Did you ever have a "moment" when flying
My worst moment in 45 yrs of rotary flying was probably in Belize when flying in a Puma at 1000ft and 130 kts over the jungle, the best part of one set of tail rotor blade pockets decided to part company with the stainless leading edge. The vibration was incredible. Stuck it down in a swamp. Inspection showed the backend would have probably detached 30 seconds later, with the inevitable tent peg result. The 'cure ' was a 'tap test' to check other blades after every flight. Cured by introducing carbon fibre blades some time later.
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: Often in Jersey, but mainly in the past.
Age: 79
Posts: 7,808
Received 135 Likes
on
63 Posts
No problem, JEM60 ... calling your friendly local Military unit for radar service is what we ALL want!
Waddington Zone frequency was solid with you guys back in the 80s ... everyone then knows who is where, instead of avoiding unknown traffic all the time. I used to get my radar trainees in at the weekend, to learn about high-intensity low-speed traffic. Having a dozen on frequency was not uncommon.
Waddington Zone frequency was solid with you guys back in the 80s ... everyone then knows who is where, instead of avoiding unknown traffic all the time. I used to get my radar trainees in at the weekend, to learn about high-intensity low-speed traffic. Having a dozen on frequency was not uncommon.
So many moments I cannot count.
Shadows flashing over the cockpit during multiple combat training with a slipstream bump! Adversaries trying to join you in your own cockpit. Being dragged around in large formations in dodgy weather etc etc. Which is why I keep to the golf course now, even that is not safe!!!!
Shadows flashing over the cockpit during multiple combat training with a slipstream bump! Adversaries trying to join you in your own cockpit. Being dragged around in large formations in dodgy weather etc etc. Which is why I keep to the golf course now, even that is not safe!!!!
Not sheer terror, and entirely self-induced, but there I was...
In a T-34, sightseeing in central California, with a friend in back. 8000 feet or so high and a couple of miles off the Big Sur coast on a gorgeous day. The plane was in the old Navy "yellow terror" bright yellow paint scheme. Looking down down the right wing while doing a steep turn, I couldn't help but notice how picturesque the yellow wing looked against the sparkling Pacific far below. Still looking at the wing, I started marveling how such a surface can interact with the invisible air in such a manner as to allow us to travel through the sky:
"What a miracle! Held aloft by forces we can't see — free to enjoy this astonishing perspective. But what if that's not really how it works? What if it's really faith that holds us in the air? Implausible perhaps, but that would mean that doubt could ruin the miracle. I hope I don't doubt. Oh no, I doubted!"
The resulting flash of panic lasted long enough to make me yank the plane level again before accepting that, no, it probably is that aerodynamic thing after all.
"What a miracle! Held aloft by forces we can't see — free to enjoy this astonishing perspective. But what if that's not really how it works? What if it's really faith that holds us in the air? Implausible perhaps, but that would mean that doubt could ruin the miracle. I hope I don't doubt. Oh no, I doubted!"
The resulting flash of panic lasted long enough to make me yank the plane level again before accepting that, no, it probably is that aerodynamic thing after all.
Thread Starter
I am a wealth of second hand military stories if nothing else, and as the OP I feel justified in sharing a story in a similar vein but for a different service - to whit, the United States Navy.
One of my American relatives was the reactor officer on a boomer back in the 1980s, I forget which one but I do recall him telling me she was later placed into service as a tethered training vessel for trainee nukes, and he was refused access to her during a subsequent stint as a civilian contractor even though he was her reactor officer for many years and also taught at the US Navy's nuke school (his Admiral Rickover story is the stuff of legend and worthy of a thread in its own right, but I digress, so on with the "moment" story.)
He had only recently qualified as an OOD watchkeeper, and as the youngest and most junior officer so qualified he pulled the worst duty shift - the early morning hours, but for that time he had full command of the ship. They were crawling along at 4 knots or so when the sonar room whistled him up with a passive contact dead ahead, a minute later when he asked if there was any change in target bearing the sonar operator replied that there was not - it wasn't crossing, it was coming straight at them. He couldn't give their position away with active sonar to warn what was now known to be another sub, if he dived or planed up he could just as easily hit them as if he stayed on depth. So he changed nothing and summoned the captain from his cabin. Just as the captain rushed into the con wearing nothing but his underwear the entire submarine lurched violently to one side, they never knew how close what was later identified as a Soviet hunter killer came to them, but it was very close - he told me he had nightmares for a long time after that, knowing how close he came to what would have been the worst submarine disaster in history. Apparently Soviet submariners who reached the end of their patrol routinely headed for port, wives, girlfriends, and vodka (in that order) at flank speed as stealth was no longer a concern at that point and they just wanted to get home.
I'm sure that this and a thousand more cold war stories just like it will never be made public, but there it is. Today he works in nuclear safety having reached the top of his game, but he very nearly didn't....
One of my American relatives was the reactor officer on a boomer back in the 1980s, I forget which one but I do recall him telling me she was later placed into service as a tethered training vessel for trainee nukes, and he was refused access to her during a subsequent stint as a civilian contractor even though he was her reactor officer for many years and also taught at the US Navy's nuke school (his Admiral Rickover story is the stuff of legend and worthy of a thread in its own right, but I digress, so on with the "moment" story.)
He had only recently qualified as an OOD watchkeeper, and as the youngest and most junior officer so qualified he pulled the worst duty shift - the early morning hours, but for that time he had full command of the ship. They were crawling along at 4 knots or so when the sonar room whistled him up with a passive contact dead ahead, a minute later when he asked if there was any change in target bearing the sonar operator replied that there was not - it wasn't crossing, it was coming straight at them. He couldn't give their position away with active sonar to warn what was now known to be another sub, if he dived or planed up he could just as easily hit them as if he stayed on depth. So he changed nothing and summoned the captain from his cabin. Just as the captain rushed into the con wearing nothing but his underwear the entire submarine lurched violently to one side, they never knew how close what was later identified as a Soviet hunter killer came to them, but it was very close - he told me he had nightmares for a long time after that, knowing how close he came to what would have been the worst submarine disaster in history. Apparently Soviet submariners who reached the end of their patrol routinely headed for port, wives, girlfriends, and vodka (in that order) at flank speed as stealth was no longer a concern at that point and they just wanted to get home.
I'm sure that this and a thousand more cold war stories just like it will never be made public, but there it is. Today he works in nuclear safety having reached the top of his game, but he very nearly didn't....
A quick diversion for an interview with Admiral Rickover:
https://vimeo.com/56270169#t=NaNs
https://vimeo.com/56270169#t=NaNs
I've had a number of flights as a pilot when I wished I was on the ground and not in the air, but they all occurred in light aircraft and involved landings in winds / crosswinds which were out of limits (they were OK when I took off - honest). However the closest to death I ever came to in a military aircraft happened during a Boscombe airdrop trial. A new system for dropping RIBs required that the extractor parachute should lower the platform slow enough that it didn't get damaged as it hit the water. The PT were fed up with repairing the previous system.
The designer of the new system, with eyes on foreign sales, had decided to use the American G12 parachute both for the load and in a reefed form as the extractor. The first time we dropped the system the G12 extractor decided to de-reef itself with the result that the boat exited the Herc at warp speed and when it separated from the platform the RIB went UP with the bow out of sight hidden by the Herc's tail, I thought it had taken the duck's bill with it, it hadn't.
As boat drops were an expensive logistic nightmare it was decided that an MSP could be adapted so that development work could continue closer to Boscombe. Reassured by the parachute manufacturer that the de-reefing couldn't happen again we head off to Larkhill for the drop. Watching the extractor leave the aircraft it was almost in slow motion that I saw the reefing fail yet again. What wasn't slow motion was the exit speed of the MSP which was so fast that it did the magician's table cloth trick by exiting whilst leaving the recovery parachutes hanging in the air still in the cabin. With the G12 (sky anchor) extractor parachute still attached to the MSP now well clear of the aircraft the recovery parachutes landed on the cabin floor and stayed there whilst paying out the risers and when they came taught the snatch was such that parachute bags shot over the ramp leaving the parachute canopy behind. The tangle of parachute rigging lines and canopies slowly rolled down the ramp and finally off. Leaving me arguing with the Loadie over what we had just seen.
Being a Boscombe trial there were many cameras fitted to the Herc covering the drop and it was the following day when we sat down to view the film, shot at high speed so we viewed the action in slow motion, that we realised just how close to disaster we had been. If any of that nylon from the recovery parachutes had snagged on the roller floor........... I still shiver when I show people that film.
The designer of the new system, with eyes on foreign sales, had decided to use the American G12 parachute both for the load and in a reefed form as the extractor. The first time we dropped the system the G12 extractor decided to de-reef itself with the result that the boat exited the Herc at warp speed and when it separated from the platform the RIB went UP with the bow out of sight hidden by the Herc's tail, I thought it had taken the duck's bill with it, it hadn't.
As boat drops were an expensive logistic nightmare it was decided that an MSP could be adapted so that development work could continue closer to Boscombe. Reassured by the parachute manufacturer that the de-reefing couldn't happen again we head off to Larkhill for the drop. Watching the extractor leave the aircraft it was almost in slow motion that I saw the reefing fail yet again. What wasn't slow motion was the exit speed of the MSP which was so fast that it did the magician's table cloth trick by exiting whilst leaving the recovery parachutes hanging in the air still in the cabin. With the G12 (sky anchor) extractor parachute still attached to the MSP now well clear of the aircraft the recovery parachutes landed on the cabin floor and stayed there whilst paying out the risers and when they came taught the snatch was such that parachute bags shot over the ramp leaving the parachute canopy behind. The tangle of parachute rigging lines and canopies slowly rolled down the ramp and finally off. Leaving me arguing with the Loadie over what we had just seen.
Being a Boscombe trial there were many cameras fitted to the Herc covering the drop and it was the following day when we sat down to view the film, shot at high speed so we viewed the action in slow motion, that we realised just how close to disaster we had been. If any of that nylon from the recovery parachutes had snagged on the roller floor........... I still shiver when I show people that film.
BFTS at CF in the 80s. About 40 hours in on the JP3 and during my amazing aero routine on a solo GH trip I got in to an inverted spin; don't ask me how. I finally recovered at about 2,500 ft; again, don't ask me how. It was a couple of weeks after Bill had banged out near Flamingo Land and I was more scared of the bollocking for losing a jet rather than the thought I might end up in a smouldering pyre. 19 and stupid.
VX,
I seem to recall that the RIB almost did for Mrs Thatcher as she witnessed a drop in Studland Bay. The system was a classic case of overcomplication IMHO.
I have related in the Hercules thread the tale of our high level ULLA maldrop.
That was 'interesting' !
The big worry on the heavy drop trips was that for some reason the platform would not leave the a/c but the Type 66s would de-reef as they were deployed outside the a/c. The stuff of nightmares.
I seem to recall that the RIB almost did for Mrs Thatcher as she witnessed a drop in Studland Bay. The system was a classic case of overcomplication IMHO.
I have related in the Hercules thread the tale of our high level ULLA maldrop.
That was 'interesting' !
The big worry on the heavy drop trips was that for some reason the platform would not leave the a/c but the Type 66s would de-reef as they were deployed outside the a/c. The stuff of nightmares.
the RIB almost did for Mrs Thatcher
And it was the platform and not the RIB that landed on Maggie's boat, probably another reason why the PT were keen that the platform had a slower rate of descent.
Tell me a pilot who hasn't!.
My first occurred first time solo out of circuit in a Cherokee from OATS at Kidlington in 1968 on a Special Flying Award. Only maps issued were 1/2 Mil. I floated up and off toward the NE enjoying the view up to at about 4500 ft, then suddenly, as it was a bit hazy , couldn't see anything on the ground that related to the map. Never minding, I turned SW and headed back.
The only problem was that I then found myself blundering above what turned out to be 8/8 low stratus and thus out of site of the ground. Having no instrument training whatsoever , and not wishing to stray too far, I put the beast into a 15 degree left bank turn on the AH, slightly nose down. and throttled back a bit to a trimmed descent through my first experience of Instrument flying (ever) and in cloud. Round and round we went ,down and down we went: Then at about 1500 ft suddenly broke out of cloud ( Phew!). Immediately I knew where I was ; Beckley Radio mast!, Since I had just had a very good close look at one of its guy wires.
I slunk back to the inevitable debrief with my Ex RAF Hurricane ,Swift etc. instructor. I relayed honestly what had happened, which apart from a few exclamations of ,"And then you did ?, WHAT !", was comparatively gentle. I think he could see how much I had frightened myself.
I was extremely lucky.(On that occasion).
My first occurred first time solo out of circuit in a Cherokee from OATS at Kidlington in 1968 on a Special Flying Award. Only maps issued were 1/2 Mil. I floated up and off toward the NE enjoying the view up to at about 4500 ft, then suddenly, as it was a bit hazy , couldn't see anything on the ground that related to the map. Never minding, I turned SW and headed back.
The only problem was that I then found myself blundering above what turned out to be 8/8 low stratus and thus out of site of the ground. Having no instrument training whatsoever , and not wishing to stray too far, I put the beast into a 15 degree left bank turn on the AH, slightly nose down. and throttled back a bit to a trimmed descent through my first experience of Instrument flying (ever) and in cloud. Round and round we went ,down and down we went: Then at about 1500 ft suddenly broke out of cloud ( Phew!). Immediately I knew where I was ; Beckley Radio mast!, Since I had just had a very good close look at one of its guy wires.
I slunk back to the inevitable debrief with my Ex RAF Hurricane ,Swift etc. instructor. I relayed honestly what had happened, which apart from a few exclamations of ,"And then you did ?, WHAT !", was comparatively gentle. I think he could see how much I had frightened myself.
I was extremely lucky.(On that occasion).
Last edited by Haraka; 3rd Mar 2017 at 11:19.
Join Date: Nov 2010
Location: M4 Corridor
Posts: 561
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
The Maggie Incident. It has been laid at my door that I tried to sink the P.M. that day but it was one T*** D****** who released the Atlantic 22 near the P.M.'s boat. The huge orange painted metal cradle the RIB sat in nearly struck the side of her vessel after it separated from RIB.
I did think one day that I was the instigator of my own demise when we dropped the Muirhill earth mover on a HSP platform. On my "green on" the loadie said "extractor released" then nothing. An eternity later the chutes deployed and the 40,000 lb bulldozer sat obstinately where it was. The Herc pitched up and the ASI unwound from it's dangerously slow airspeed to just above brisk taxying speed. The pilot had the yoke forward against the instrument panel and the co-pilot had advanced the throttles to the same position. Then like suddenly being unconstipated the load went from nought to 125kts out the back in a cloud of detritus. The nose pitched down, I left the floor and the 4 Allisons were determined to put us in a small hole in Salisbury plain. We were also unconstipated and swore that if they wanted this thing in Europe they should send it by Fred Olsen.
I did think one day that I was the instigator of my own demise when we dropped the Muirhill earth mover on a HSP platform. On my "green on" the loadie said "extractor released" then nothing. An eternity later the chutes deployed and the 40,000 lb bulldozer sat obstinately where it was. The Herc pitched up and the ASI unwound from it's dangerously slow airspeed to just above brisk taxying speed. The pilot had the yoke forward against the instrument panel and the co-pilot had advanced the throttles to the same position. Then like suddenly being unconstipated the load went from nought to 125kts out the back in a cloud of detritus. The nose pitched down, I left the floor and the 4 Allisons were determined to put us in a small hole in Salisbury plain. We were also unconstipated and swore that if they wanted this thing in Europe they should send it by Fred Olsen.
Doug,
if you were dropping the Muirhill it would have been a seven parachute set of 66's. Having dropped something similar it was not unknown for a rig with that number of main chutes to leave the a/c a little later than advertised. I was told that this was due to the large chutes fighting for position in a fairly restricted area. They usually got things sorted out BEFORE the de-reefing mechanism kicked in. In your case it sounds almost like they were starting to de-reef with the load still firmly in place !
if you were dropping the Muirhill it would have been a seven parachute set of 66's. Having dropped something similar it was not unknown for a rig with that number of main chutes to leave the a/c a little later than advertised. I was told that this was due to the large chutes fighting for position in a fairly restricted area. They usually got things sorted out BEFORE the de-reefing mechanism kicked in. In your case it sounds almost like they were starting to de-reef with the load still firmly in place !
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Basil, with you on the near air miss, Russian May rolled in to us at 400 ft. He pushed, we pulled. As you say, over before your sphincter operates. The operator kept the camera running and the Russian copilot had his hand up.
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
JEM60, my wg cdr ops was in a 16 ship Javelin formation when they met a 24 ship Hunter formation. Quick as a flash the Hunter leader called You Break Left, we'll break right.
Thread Starter
By PM request, here is my (his) Admiral Rickover story. I'm a straight shooter, and my relative is a straight shooter - so for me this dit is gospel, but please make up your own mind (I actually have 2 stories, but this is my pick of them).
Back in those days Rickover would testify to Congress that he had personally interviewed every reactor officer in the fleet, and could therefore personally attest to their competence. It is perhaps worth noting that the US Navy has a record of reactor safety that is pretty much unparalleled. For the purposes of this story let's call my relative Dave, as it also happens to be his name.
Came the day for Dave's interview with Rickover as a very young, and prospective, reactor officer. Rickover simply asked him about his schooling and education, focusing on which college he went to, and that was that, Dave got a straight pass. He walked out wondering what all the fuss had been about, this had been a breeze - it was to be the second guy who caught Rickover's attention. Rickover started out by asking him if he was married and he replied that he was not, but that he was engaged to be married, "well I don't agree with my reactor officers being married, what if I told you that your appointment was contingent on you breaking off your engagement?" the young officer replied that he would break off the engagement, hoping that it would satisfy Rickover, but apparently it didn't. Rickover paused for a moment and then handed the phone to the candidate - "Call her now" he said, and the young officer did just that, calling his fiancee at work and telling her that the engagement was over. On putting the phone down with a sobbing girl on the other end Rickover turned to him and said:
"Any man who would treat a young woman in that way has no place as a reactor officer in one of my boats, now GET OUT !"
True story.
"Mildly" Eccentric Stardriver
OK, I'm ex military, so I can be on this site, but this is a civil story. It was a very bad weekend for icing conditions in the north of England. A Shorts 3-60 came down in a field just short of East Midlands through icing. 48 hours later, another Shorts (me) got airborne from Leeds for Belfast. When the machine stopped climbing, despite still having T/O power set, we initiated an emergency diversion to Manchester. I sat there, watching the airspeed decay and realising that at the same time the stall speed was increasing due to the spoiling of the aerodynamics. At some point these speeds were going to coincide. We crossed the threshold at Manchester with the throttles firewalled. I suffered alopecia nervosa for several months afterwards.