In a move that could reshape naval aviation training for decades, the U.S. Navy is signaling a seismic shift in how it prepares its next generation of pilots. Negotiations are underway that may lead to the Leonardo M-346N, a modified version of an Italian advanced trainer jet, replacing the aging Boeing T-45 Goshawk as the service’s primary jet trainer.
The ramifications go far beyond just swapping aircraft. The Navy has hinted that future pilots may no longer need to qualify for carrier landings in real-world conditions—a departure from a tradition dating back to World War II. This signals not only a potential pivot in training philosophy but also a broader reassessment of the role aircraft carriers play in modern military strategy.
The choice of a new training aircraft under the Navy’s Undergraduate Jet Training System (UJTS) program will determine how young aviators are groomed for high-stakes missions in cutting-edge platforms like the F-35 Lightning II and the F/A-18 Super Hornet. And in doing so, it will reflect the Navy’s evolving views on technology, readiness, and the geopolitical landscape.
Since its introduction in 1991, the T-45 Goshawk has been a cornerstone of U.S. naval aviation training. A variant of the British Aerospace Hawk, the T-45 was customized for carrier operations, including reinforced landing gear and a tailhook. For more than 30 years, it has been the last stepping stone between classroom and combat aircraft for Navy and Marine Corps pilots.
It was built to mimic the high-pressure environment of a carrier landing, often regarded as one of the most difficult and dangerous tasks in aviation. With a maximum speed of 645 mph and a service ceiling of 42,500 feet, it offered enough performance to teach advanced air-to-air and air-to-ground combat skills.
However, age is catching up with the Goshawk. The fleet of just over 190 aircraft has suffered mechanical failures and persistent safety issues, most notably involving the aircraft’s oxygen delivery systems and engine reliability. Several incidents have forced temporary fleet-wide groundings, including as recently as March 2025, when an engine failure in Kingsville, Texas, raised new safety concerns.
More importantly, the analog roots of the T-45—despite later digital upgrades—can no longer replicate the sensor fusion, data sharing, and stealth characteristics of fifth-generation combat jets. The Navy needs more than a workhorse; it needs a digital-age coach.
The M-346N, a navalized version of Leonardo’s M-346 Master, is being touted as a forward-thinking solution to a backward-looking problem. Developed in collaboration with Textron Aviation Defense, the twin-engine jet already serves as a backbone trainer for air forces in Israel, Italy, Poland, and Singapore.
With a top speed of 660 mph, service ceiling of 45,000 feet, and two Honeywell F124 engines, the M-346N brings more power, safety redundancy, and modern avionics to the table. Its fly-by-wire control system mimics the handling characteristics of frontline fighters, and its advanced glass cockpit and mission systems are designed to simulate the workload and environment of aircraft like the F-35.
But what truly sets the M-346N apart isn’t just its design—it’s the philosophy behind it. The jet comes integrated with a comprehensive training ecosystem, including high-fidelity simulators, digital mission planning tools, and live-virtual-constructive (LVC) environments. This allows instructors and students to blend physical flights with simulated threats and complex air scenarios in real time.
This system offers an evolution in how pilots learn—not just what they fly, but how they think.
In a pivotal move, the Navy’s March 2025 Request for Information outlined a dramatic change: the next trainer will not need to land on or launch from aircraft carriers.
“Due to advancements in operational platform landing modes and in ground-based simulation, the UJTS air vehicle will only be required to conduct field carrier landing practice to wave off,” the Navy stated, signaling that real carrier decks may no longer be part of the student pilot experience.
This effectively eliminates the need for rugged landing gear and arrestor hooks on the new trainer, allowing for a lighter, simpler, and potentially less expensive aircraft.
This decision, while practical, marks a turning point. For generations, earning the right to land on a carrier was more than a test—it was a rite of passage. But as simulators become more realistic and as landing assistance technologies like Precision Landing Mode become widespread on operational jets, the Navy appears confident it can train the muscle memory and cognitive skills of carrier landings on dry land.
At first glance, this change appears to be about training. But zoom out, and it reflects a broader shift in naval warfare.
Carrier strike groups—once the undisputed symbols of American power projection—are under increasing threat from hypersonic missiles, unmanned aerial systems, and anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) strategies. Meanwhile, drones and long-range weapons offer new ways to strike targets without getting anywhere near an adversary’s shore.
By decoupling pilot training from carrier operations, the Navy may be quietly preparing for a future where the aircraft carrier is no longer the center of gravity. Training programs optimized for flexibility—like those the M-346N enables—prepare pilots for a range of platforms and scenarios, not just traditional carrier launches and recoveries.
It’s a more modular, resilient vision of warfare—one that reflects both strategic evolution and fiscal realism.
Still, for the men and women on the flight line, the change cuts deeper. Carrier landings are brutal, terrifying, and exhilarating—described by some pilots as “controlled crashes.” They are also the ultimate test of confidence and skill. Replacing them with land-based simulation is efficient, but it risks altering the very culture of naval aviation.
At training bases like NAS Meridian or NAS Kingsville, the T-45 is more than just a jet. It’s a symbol. Its rugged gear, paint schemes, and shrieking takeoffs define the look and feel of what it means to become a naval aviator.
“There’s something about knowing you’ve done it for real—on a moving, pitching deck—that no simulator can match,” said one instructor pilot, speaking on condition of anonymity.
Yet many acknowledge the logic of the shift. The T-45’s reliability issues have caused months of delays in the training pipeline, with entire classes backed up due to grounding events. In April 2024, a blade failure led to 149 jets being inspected, with only 104 returning to service weeks later. Instructors had to juggle training timelines while students waited, anxious to move forward.
Modern platforms like the M-346N promise better reliability and higher uptime—making them not just a better tool, but a more consistent one.
The trainer competition also plays out on a geopolitical chessboard.
Leonardo’s bid is supported by Textron, but it’s still a non-U.S. design—making its potential selection politically sensitive. Domestic contenders include Boeing’s T-7A Red Hawk, developed with Saab for the U.S. Air Force, and Lockheed Martin’s TF-50N, a modified version of the South Korean T-50 Golden Eagle.
Boeing offers the advantage of continuity—it already supplies the Navy’s current trainer and the Air Force’s future one. The T-7A boasts digital twin technology and rapid prototyping, but its naval variant remains in conceptual stages. Lockheed’s TF-50N leverages existing foreign partnerships and a modular design but faces similar questions about carrier suitability and readiness.
Choosing Leonardo’s M-346N would be unusual—but not without precedent. The Pentagon has previously selected foreign aircraft for roles where performance and cost aligned, like the T-6 Texan II from Switzerland’s Pilatus.
Moreover, Leonardo’s International Flight Training School in Italy is already training pilots from NATO allies including Japan, Germany, and Canada—many of whom are preparing to fly the F-35. A shared training platform could enhance interoperability and joint mission planning across the alliance.
A contract award is not expected before January 2027. But the decision will ripple across global militaries watching how the U.S. adapts to emerging technologies and evolving threats.
At stake: billions of dollars, thousands of pilot careers, and the direction of training doctrines that may be adopted by allied air forces. With global adversaries like China investing heavily in their own naval aviation and carrier pilot programs—complete with full-deck training facilities—the U.S. Navy’s pivot sends a clear signal: it believes in the promise of simulation and flexibility over tradition and brute realism.
This moment reflects a tension familiar across defense sectors—between legacy systems and digital transformation, between proven rituals and agile innovations.
The T-45 Goshawk is more than just a machine. It is woven into the identity of modern naval aviation. Replacing it is not just a procurement decision—it’s a statement about what kind of pilot the Navy wants to produce in 2030, 2040, and beyond.
Will the next generation feel the same sense of earned toughness without carrier traps? Will the smell of jet fuel and the crack of the arresting cable fade from the mythos?
Or will advanced trainers like the M-346N usher in a new kind of elite—pilots trained with unprecedented precision, shaped in digital realms, and capable of mastering threats we can barely imagine today?
