Recently I went on a CRM course, which now stands for Crew Resource Management rather than Cockpit Resource Management. There were three captains, two first officers and two flight engineers on the course. It was by far the best course I've been on, even though there were only two crash videos. It lasted two days and I wasn't bored once. The funny thing about CRM is that the people who need it most are the ones who don't believe in it. For some, CRM stands for Captain's Right, Mate. Take Gary, for instance. He's one of our most experienced captains, ex fast-jet from the RAF, ex Laker DC10 captain. Trying to make him see the advantages of a CRM course is like trying to convince an atheist to become a Jehovah's Witness. He's from the old school where the captain is always right and the first officer is there to do the paperwork. Gary sat through the course with a faint sneer on his face. I'm not saying he's a bad captain, in fact he's probably one of our best.

"It's all psychobabble gobbledygook", he informed us knowingly during a coffee break. No doubt some of it is. But surely understanding biorythms, stress, the effects of diet on performance, the disturbed sleep patterns, bring some benefits?

"A beer or two before bed is all you need", Gary says.

"Alcohol disturbs REM sleep, Gary."

"I thought REM were a band", he says. "My son went to one of their concerts." He sips his coffee, looking round the coffee shop. "These shrinks have never been in an aircraft in their lives", he continues, "I mean, the CAA think we shouldn't fly more than three consecutive nights. We all know that's complete bollocks. You never get adjusted to a regular sleep pattern."

"What about democracy in the cockpit?"

"Of, course, the captain discusses things with the other crew members, time permitting. Goes without saying. Then he does what he thinks is best. He's the one with the experience. It's his ass on the line" Terry, a young first officer, snorts his disgust at this heresy on the new religion. He's a bit cocky, and looks on older captains as relics of bygone dark ages where the first officer carried the captain's bags and called him Sir. Though Gary would never let anyone call him sir. He expected his crew to keep pace with him on weekends away, force-marching them to distant pubs where they would drink copious amounts of local ale.

"What if the captain makes what is obviously the wrong decision? If the first officer knows he's wrong?"

"There's always the fire axe", Gary says, and we all laugh. It's time to go back to class. Gary and myself smoke a last cigarette, down our coffee, and follow the others into the little room. There's a projector set up, and evidently the next subject is stress. It's one subject Gary does not have a problem with.

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