only let down procedure available is VMC below FL160 (16,000ft) to 6,000ft
Descent below the LSALT of FL160 had to be made in VMC as you say. What advantages accrue from specifying the VMC descent to be made in the stipulated sector overhead McMurdo? Assuming the descent was made in the sector and did not go below 6,000 what weather parameters ruled operations from that point on? 7,000 foot overcast permissible? At no time were the operations immune from whiteout, the point of impact would just be 4,500 feet higher, that’s all. It matters not in the scheme of things (to my mind) where the descent is made if being made in VMC conditions. And there is no evidence that the aircraft was in anything but VMC from FL160 right up to the point of collision. The argument that the other aircraft had gin clear conditions is moot, VMC is VMC, you either are or you aren’t. The only problem being the crews had no business to be tooling around in VMC due to a complete lack of both experience and training. Had the flights continued in the manner in which they were being conducted it was just a matter of time before some one stubbed their toe. And it would not have been the crews fault, however much the apologists for management duck and weave.
the simulator exercise started from about 50 nautical miles north on the direct Cape Hallett McMurdo NDB track which passed over the top of Mount Erebus at 16,000ft before letting down
Not according to Captain Simpson, who said the simulator was never placed in a position 50 miles north as claimed by Captain Johnson. If that were the case I’m sure Collins would have questioned it as it did not tally with his understanding of tracking down the sound. You train how you’re going to fight, and fight as you’ve trained. When applying Prof. Reason’s Swiss Cheese model to this accident there are so many holes as to lead one to believe that insufficient cheese remains to sustain one mouse for one day.
I leave it to Arthur Marcel who teaches at the Queensland University of Technology in Brisbane and is interested in systems analysis to have the final word (seems he has read Prof. Reason, and perhaps David Beaty as well who wrote “it is only recently that very dubious management malpractices are being identified and their contribution to accidents given sufficient weight. For though the pilot’s actions are at the tip of the iceberg of responsibility, many other people have had a hand in it – faceless people in aircraft design and manufacture, in computer technology and software, in maintenance, in flying control, in accounts departments and in the corridors of power. But the pilot is available and identifiable”).
Perhaps, though, the paradigms for determining who is in command, who is in direct control and who is responsible, are changing. The levels of complexity of modern transportation systems are such that the notion of the sole commander and his executive crew, all powerful and totally responsible for the safety of the ship, a notion developed over many millennia of maritime (and more lately of aerial) navigation, is not as relevant as it used to be. We now live in an era of transportation systems in which many minds are involved in the operation of any particular vehicle, and the safe delivery of that vehicle to any particular destination can be seen as the product of systematic co-operation by a team of decision makers. There has to be trust at all levels for such systems to function properly. The pilots of modern aircraft have to place their trust in the organisation behind them for the system to work. The crew of November Zulu Papa were let down by a system they not only had little option other than to trust, but one which they were given every conceivable reason to trust. In the paraphrased words of the Royal Commissioner, 'The cause of this accident was programming an aircraft to fly directly at a mountain and not telling the crew.' Certainly, the pilots of November Zulu Papa were directed into a very subtle trap and, even though it was they who took that sixth and final step, it's difficult to blame them for it.
Some whiteout yarns
One of my SDOs had been a PBY Catalina pilot in Patrol Squadron Six (VP-6 CG) at Bluie West One (BW-1), that frigid, fog-bound, wind-driven outpost in Greenland responsible for ant-sub patrols, SAR, and other missions in that part of the North Atlantic. Among the many stories this SDO told was a fantastic one of a pilot landing on the Greenland ice cap. It seems this pilot and his PBY crew were flying on instruments in thick clouds and falling snow. As the pilot concentrated on the gauges, he noticed something moving out of the corner of his eye. And when he glanced out the window, there standing in the snow was his crew chief ... waving his arms and giving the “cut engines” signal! They had unintentionally landed on the ice cap! It seems they had flown onto a very gradually rising slope in white-out conditions, and the snow was so soft and featureless they did not even feel it when the “Cat” touched down and slid to a stop.
Many years ago an Air Force PBY flying out of (I believe) Elmendorf AFB in Alaska found itself in a white out in a mountainous area. The pilot was familiar with the various peaks and their respective altitude. Knowing where he was when he entered the whiteout he began to climb with the intention of flying over the mountain range. He was several minutes into the climb when the aircraft lurched. The airspeed dropped to zero and his rate of climb indicated no climb and no dive. His altimeter also stopped indicating an increase in climb. His first thought was his pitot sensing or his static port had frozen over. He turned on the pitot heat with no effect. It seems that the P Boat intersected the rising surface of the mountain at a very slight angular difference and became stuck in the snow
I was at CGAS Savannah aboard Hunter AFB, then home of the 63rd Troop Carrier Wing (Heavy). The 63rd was operating C-124 Globemasters at the time. While one of their planes was operating in Antarctica, and flying in white-out conditions, the observer in the after station noticed the props were starting to kick up snow! Imagine the panic on the flight deck when the observer yelled, PULL UP! ... PULL UP!” on the ICS!