An Inside Look at Jell-o's Memoir
- The Fighter Pilot Podcast
- Mar 27
- 6 min read
Jell-O's memoir, Through the Yellow Visor, is out now on Amazon! You can also get a personalized copy directly from Jell-O himself here.
As a sneak peek, you can reads the book's opening Author's Note and Preface below:
AUTHOR’S NOTE
“How realistic is Top Gun: Maverick ?”
As a former US Navy F/A-18 pilot and TOPGUN instructor, and more recently as the founder and host of the Fighter Pilot Podcast, I field this question often. And it’s a fair one.
I mean, the flying scenes are certainly real—Tom Cruise and his fellow actors logged many hours in F/A-18F Super Hornet backseats during filming. Dogfighting, nap-of-the-earth flying, and employing laser-guided bombs are all actual missions too.
But let’s be clear, Top Gun: Maverick is a movie, not a documentary, so of course liberties were taken to make the story more compelling. In real life, fighter pilots are not all cocksure egomaniacs. Rather, most
suffer the same struggles, failures, and insecurities as everyone else.
At least, I did.
You see, I was a normal kid of modest talents who, at eight years old, attended an airshow that established my life’s purpose, but it was not all smooth sailing. I faced obstacles at every step: From simply trying to find my way into the military, to surviving flight school, to the daily grind of being a fleet pilot clawing my way up the ranks. Along the way, I met a girl and started a family. Then, at the ripe old age of thirty-nine, a life-threatening condition rocked my world like you won’t believe.
This book is that story—my struggles, triumphs, and failures both on the job and in life. These pages contain the “what.” The “so what” I hope you take away is this: You don’t have to be the best, the brightest, or the most talented to chase big dreams. You just have to be persistent. You have to go after those dreams with everything you’ve got. Expect setbacks, expect to get knocked down, and when you do, get back up, learn from your mistakes, and try again. You’ll be surprised at what you can achieve.
But a few caveats before we get started: First, while I have my flight logbooks and copies of official documents for reference, I rarely kept a journal, so these pages are certain to contain mistakes, inconsistencies, and perhaps an exaggeration (or ten). Errors and omissions are mine alone, and my apologies to anyone quoted who takes exception with the way I recall dialogue.
Apologies also to the many family members, friends, and squadron mates who either did not find themselves in these pages or did so but were not named (or were named and would have preferred not to be). Deciding who and what to include proved exceedingly difficult. A second volume could easily be filled with all the stories that did not find their way into this memoir.
Further, these pages are full of potentially baffling concepts and naval aviation jargon like bolter, reflies, and fo’c’sle. I do my best to explain it all, but I shun the tired convention of spelling out acronyms with the abbreviation immediately following in parentheses. Instead, you will typically find the acronym and its explanation within a paragraph of each other. Consider it a game. When in doubt, a glossary is available toward the back.
Photographs are mine except where annotated and italics are used for all the usual applications (ship and aircraft names, book and movie titles, emphasis), plus for my inner monologue.
So that’s it. As you embark on this voyage through my life and (mis)adventures as seen through the yellow-tinted visor I wore, I hope you are informed, inspired, and even humored. Better strap in, this is one incredible ride.
PROLOGUE
0 7 F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 3
Naval Air Station Lemoore, California
I’ve been awaiting this moment forever it seems.
“Expert 51, runway three two right: line up and wait.”
This is it.
I repeat Tower’s instructions over the UHF radio to acknowledge compliance and nudge the throttles forward to take NAS Lemoore’s east parallel runway. The two-seat F/A-18 Super Hornet fighter jet responds to my inputs, mirroring my own eagerness to fly.
A quick glance right, beyond the runway’s approach end, confirms no other aircraft are attempting to land where we are about to takeoff. I don’t expect any landing traffic since Tower just cleared us, but in this
business, you survive by assuming everyone else is trying to kill you.
We’re really doing this.
The “line up and wait” clearance to hold on the runway is opportune—during the briefing an hour ago, I informed “Blomer,” the instructor pilot now sitting four feet behind me, that I might want a moment on the runway to soak it in. He was happy to oblige.
Squeezing the nosewheel steering button on the stick now, I turn the gray twenty-ton fighter to align with the two-mile-long, 200-foot- wide strip of concrete.
“Expert 51, Tower, winds two niner zero at eight, runway three two right: cleared for takeoff, change to departure.”
“Expert 51 is cleared for takeoff on three two right, switching depar ture,” I respond, adding, “we’ll be a few moments on the runway.” Most outbound flights depart without delay so I want Tower to know we will be nonstandard.
“Expert 51, no problem, have a nice flight.”
You bet I will.
I change the UHF radio to button 4 for departure and manipulate the foot pedals to steady the jet on runway centerline. I apply the brakes and come to a stop, gazing down the runway we will soon travel through the yellow visor on my flight helmet and the green symbols of the jet’s HUD, or head-up display. A wry grin spreads under my mask.
Satisfied, I ask Blomer over the intercom, “You all set?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he replies knowingly.
“Let’s do this,” I declare. “Lights.”
I flip the TAXI LIGHT switch by my left knee to ON, illuminating the forward-facing spotlight on the jet’s nosewheel. Although virtually useless in broad daylight, this practice is standard procedure in the Navy strike-fighter community.
“Camera.”
I select IFF modes 3 and C on the upfront control display so air traffic control will be able to see us once airborne. I also flick on the HUD video recorder for good measure. Most aviation mishaps occur during takeoffs and landings so I figure if anything unfortunate ever happens while I am at the controls, the recording will help exonerate me in the ensuing investigation. (Conversely, if I am likely to be found at fault, then the tapes are, ahem, sure to be destroyed in the wreckage.)
“Action.”
I scribble the current local time on my kneeboard card for later recordkeeping, then simultaneously release the brakes and advance the throttles forward to the first stops.
The Super Hornet begins rolling, building speed. A quick glance at the instruments reveals two properly functioning General Electric F414 low-bypass turbofan engines, each turning dead dinosaur juice into more than 18,000 pounds of noisy thrust.
Now.
I push the throttles past the first stops all the way to their physical limits, full afterburner. The Super Hornet wastes no time rewarding me with that familiar kick in the chest, pushing me and Blomer into our ejection seats with delicious acceleration. The only thing better is a catapult launch from the steel deck of an aircraft carrier at sea—I have performed hundreds of such launches and know I never will again.
Regardless, this is what I waited three and a half grueling, uncertain years for and, frankly, sitting here today is a miracle. The F/A-18F devours just 2,000 feet of runway before leaping into the air. I deftly raise the LDG GEAR handle to UP, move the FLAPS switch to AUTO, and thumb the weapons select switch on the control stick to the right, placing the jet into air-to-air mode. Long dormant muscle memory is returning without conscious thought. All the while, the grin beneath my mask grows yet larger.
“Departure, Expert 51 is airborne.”
I’m back.
Get the Rest of the Story... Pick up a copy of Through the Yellow Visor Today.
Forget Hollywood stereotypes—fighter pilots aren’t just fearless mavericks with sunglasses and swagger. In Through the Yellow Visor, former TOPGUN instructor Vincent “Jell-O” Aiello reveals the real world of naval aviation—where grit, resilience, and relentless training matter more than ego.
From flight school struggles to combat missions over Iraq, this memoir dives deep into the camaraderie and sacrifices behind the callsign. If you’ve ever wondered what it truly takes to earn those wings of gold, this book delivers the unfiltered truth—high-speed, high-stakes, and deeply human.
Available in print and ebook from Amazon and personalized direct from the author. Audiobook coming soon.
