A feat of superb airmanship

[Tee Emm]

For many years Pprune pages have contained varying opinions on degradation of manual flying skills caused by the accent on automation. I was browsing my local charity shop looking for some cheap shoes when I found a aviation book for sale for five dollars. It was a bound copies of the USAF flight safety magazine "Aerospace Safety" covering the months January 1968 to December 1969. All in perfect condition.

Each issue had a page entitled Well Done. Many of the Well Done stories were quite scary but in each case the happy ending was due to good airmanship - a term now rarely used in aviation reports. Put yourself now in the cockpit of an F105 Thunderchief fighter over North Vietnam in November 1967. The pilot was Lt Col. Rufus Dye. This from USAF Aerospace Safety:


"On 7 November 1976, Lt Col Dye, flying an F105 was a member of a 20 ship strike force assigned to attack an important target in North Vietnam. As the force was inbound to the target deep in enemy territory, a MIG-21 interceptor succeeded in breaking through the force to fire a ALKALI air-to-air missile which impacted directly on Lt Col Dye's aircraft. Lt Col Dye immediately notified his flight leader that he had been hit and , maintaining control of his critically damaged aircraft began a turn out of enemy territory under the escort of his fellow flight members.

Quickly analyzing the engine instruments and noting the performance of his aircraft, Lt Col dye determined it was still flying reasonably well and he elected to attempt recovery at the nearest airfield 200 miles distant. The other flight members inspected his aircraft and found that the missile had detonated just inside the tail, blowing away all the speed brake petals and severely damaging the horizontal and vertical stabilizers. The body of the missile had then impacted and lodged between the aft fuselage structure and the engine tailpipe, tearing large holes in both. Forced to fly at full power to maintain airspeed, Lt Col dye realized that a refueling would be required to reach his intended recovery base.

A unique problem faced him on this refueling: The loss of the hydraulic system would require a forced refueling, one in which he would have to hold the aircraft receptacle on the refueling nozzle by engine thrust since the system could not lock on to the boom -and his damaged engine was not putting out sufficient thrust to permit this. When he was in position behind the tanker, he called the tanker pilot to “toboggan”, a maneuver in which the tanker and receiver make a shallow drive with the tanker’s power pulled far back. This difficult maneuver gave Lt Col Dye the thrust advantage he needed to take on fuel required to continue the flight.

On arrival at the recovery base, Lt Col Dye knew he would have to lower his landing gear by the emergency system, that he would be without leading edge flaps, speed brakes and wheel brakes, all due to hydraulic loss, and that he would have best marginal thrust for his approach. In addition, he anticipated correctly that the damage would most likely have destroyed his drag chute. He wisely chose to extend the gear and flaps at a safe bailout altitude and proceeded to check the controllability and power capability of the aircraft. Finding these adequate, he then made a successful landing, using the emergency braking system to steer the aircraft and the tail hook for a barrier stop without further incident.

By his cool professionalism under these extremely stressing circumstances, Lt Col Dye not only effected his own safe recovery, but also saved an extremely valuable aircraft. WELL DONE.
………………………………………………………………………………….

[PENKO]

Did he write this report while he was flying his crippled jet, or afterwards? :E

[john_tullamarine]

Tee Emm - I've restored the thread as it is a good yarn and of use especially to the newer folk. Whether MIL/CIV doesn't matter at all. If you really want the thread out by all means delete it again and it will stay deleted.

I would ignore the previous post's sentiments ...

[greywings]

Well done, John. I could not agree more.

There are many great feats of airmanship, military and civil, and they are all worthy of our respect and admiration.

GW

[PLovett]

Currently reading "Redefining Airmanship by Tony Kern.

There are some amazing stories of superb airmanship detailed in the book, both military and civil as well as some horrifying examples. It is well worth the purchase price.

[itsresidualmate]

I was always inspired by the 21 year old Stirling pilot Arthur Aaron who, although mortally wounded, still guided his aircraft and crew to safety. An incredible man

Flt Sgt Arthur Aaron (http://www.leedscivictrust.org.uk/view.aspx?id=107)

[itsresidualmate]

Part of being in the Forces is that you give up certain freedoms to serve your country, one of them is the choice of which war to fight. Politicians and, by voting, the public, are the people who decide that.

[boofhead]

Take a look at the following link, particularly pictures 1,2,3 and 6 for some real present day heroes.

Plane examined for clues to cause of fatal Anchorage crash: Aviation News | adn.com (http://www.adn.com/2010/06/02/v-gallery/1305186/airplane-searched-for-clues-to.html#id=1303393&view=large_view)

[rottenray]

Wonderful thread!

Mr. Tullamarine - thanks for reviving it. Such moderation is what sets PPRuNe above the rest.

Just a comment -

News spreads quickly these days, and bad news sells ad space, so it spreads at a much faster rate.

The general public doesn't hear much about things which could have gone pear-shaped but didn't because of pilot skill, MX skill, ATC skill.

I would suggest that this thread be sticky, and be contributed to on a regular basis, to serve as a repository for the vastly under-reported successes which make commercial, military, and general aviation as safe as it is.

[24seven]

many moons ago I remember reading a story about a fighter jet that got a fuel leak (can't remember the reasons for the leak) but due to the leak he wasn't going to have enough fuel to get back to base so his wingman decided to use his aircraft to "push" the stricken aircraft home.

Not sure if this story is true or false but can anybody add any more details to the story?

[Checkboard]

It's a true story. It was also used in a JAG episode:

Pardo's Push - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pardo's_Push)

[Tee Emm]

Maybe that date was instead 1967.Quite right. It was 1967. Typing error on my part.
Another Well Done report from Aerospace Safety as follows:

Captain Ronald D. Clisby demonstrated exceptional airmanship while flying an O-1E Cessna Bird Dog aircraft over North Vietnam on two separate occasions. While attempting to locate camouflaged AA weapons on 20 May 1967, his aircraft was hit in the left wing by a 57mm AA burst. The aircraft rolled to the left and commenced a dive. Aileron control was completely lost, the left flap shot away and there was a large hole completely through the wing. Through skillful use of rudder and power, control was regained and an erratic flight started to home base. The pilot had been wounded and had to administer first aid to himself as he fought to maintain control of the aircraft.

When he reached his home destination he found heavy crosswinds on the sole runway; the crosswind far exceeded the maximum flight handbook limitation but no alternative existed. Captain Clisby skillfully manipulated rudder, power and elevators to make a safe landing.

Again when flying over North Vietnam on 5 June 1967, Captain Clisby's aircraft was hit by 57mm AA fire. He discovered his engine was on fire when smoke started coming from the area around the right rudder pedal. The smoke became blinding and, with no oxygen system, he was forced to place his face into the windstream so he could breathe and see.

A landing was made at a marginal airstrip at a Special Forces Camp. At the last moment the pilot glimpsed a barbed wire barricade across the runway which he zoomed over only to discover on touchdown that his right brake had been shot away. Although the aircraft ground looped, enough control was exercised to preclude more damage.
............................................................ .........................................................

[Tee Emm]

I would suggest that this thread be sticky, and be contributed to on a regular basis, to serve as a repository for the vastly under-reported successes which make commercial, military, and general aviation as safe as it is.U-2C flames out above 60,000 ft then forced landing through cloud.

On 15 February 1967, Captain Woodhull made a normal take off and climb to above 60,000 ft in a U2C. When at maximum altitude he made a turn towards his next checkpoint. As he rolled out of his turn he heard a loud explosion and the engine flamed out. Weather at the time was completely undercast and the closest alternate airfield over 100 miles away. ATC vectored him towards his alternate airfield. As pressurisation was lost, the canopy began to frost over and Captain Woodhull proceeded to descend solely on instruments. Although partial pressure suit inflation which occured within 30 seconds of the flameout severely limited Capt Woodhull's arm and body movements, he made periodic attempts to scrape ice off the canopy with his Weems plotter, and this allowed him small, intermittent glimpses of the weather below.

As he approached his destination airfield, it became apparent, with the solid overcast, that a visual approach could not be made. After three airstart attempts failed, Captain Woodhull requested ATC to vector him to a point approximately five miles to the west of the field where he could continue his descent in orbit and remain clear of mountains lying just to the east of the field.

With weather reported as 1500 ft scattered, 3500 ft broken to overcast with 15 miles visibility and intermittent snow showers, Captain Woodhull decided that the ceiling was high enough to allow him to break out, get the field in sight, and set up a forced landing pattern. Then the primary microphone in his pressure suit facepiece ceased to function. Prompt action in attaching the bypass chord enabled him once again to have communication with ATC.

At 18,000 ft the aircraft entered weather which stayed solid to 12,000 ft where it became layered. As Captain Woodhull continued his descent, it became apparent that he might not break out of the weather as soon as anticipated and he requested ATC to place him over the field and on a heading aligned with the runway.

Still scraping away at his canopy with his Weems plotter, Captain Woodhull finally noticed a taxiway through a small break in the clouds. Entering a high key, he completed his checklists and made his turn to low key keeping the runway in sight. On the turn to base, he once again entered clouds, which forced him to estimate his turn on to final. Breaking out of cloud once more, he had slightly overshot the runway but by anticipating this possibility he used excess airspeed to return to final approach.

A heavyweight landing was made approximately 3000 ft down the runway without the aid of the mobile controller who would normally transmit to him his height above the runway. The superior airmanship demonstrated by Captain Woodhull saved a valuable aircraft.
............................................................ ...........................................................

[john_tullamarine]

20 years or so ago I did a course on which one of the instructors was an ex-USAF U2 pilot. Amongst other interesting stories from the instructor group .. he related a tale of one U2 which, having suffered an engine problem south of Tasmania proceeded to deadstick into Avalon.

I thought that was a pretty neat sort of story.

[Cardinal]

The heroics of tanker crews during the conflict in Southeast Asia is exactly why a tanker should not have draconian flight envelope protections. Lives and aircraft were saved, sometimes far above Mmo.

[27mm]

Does anyone recall the incident which occurred to the late Neil Williams, in which the wing bolts on one side of his Zlin failed, causing the wing to start folding upwards? IIRC, he had the presence of mind to fly inverted, to minimise any further folding, then roll upright just prior to landing, saving both himself and the aircraft. A remarkable feat of airmanship and flying by any standards.

[Pugilistic Animus]

Does anyone recall the incident which occurred to the late Neil Williams, in which the wing bolts on one side of his Zlin failed, causing the wing to start folding upwards? IIRC, he had the presence of mind to fly inverted, to minimise any further folding, then roll upright just prior to landing, saving both himself and the aircraft. A remarkable feat of airmanship and flying by any standards. I do:ok:

Excellent Thread:\:ok:

[Brian Abraham]

Zlin wing Structural Failure Report
By Neil Williams - British Aerobatic Team member
1970 World Aerobatic Championships, practising at Hullavington

The weather at Hullavington was good, with 2/8 of cumulus based above 3,500ft, 1,066m. The wind was south-easterly, 5kt to 10kt and there was no turbulence.

Because there were three static balloons flying in front of ATC it was decided that we would use runway O5/23 as datum and fly on sorties over the grass parallel to that runway. This would keep us well clear of the balloons and the wind was so light that it did not pose any problems.

Two Zlins were operational that day, with three pilots. I had flown one sortie and took off on the second with full fuel tanks at 11.35 a.m. The sequence was flown twice through satisfactorily, and the aircraft was climbed for the next and final run through. Everything progressed normally until the completion of the fifth figure. which was a vertical climbing half roll, half outside loop to a vertical dive and pull out to level flight at about 1,000ft, 300m. During this pullout, as the nose came up to the level attitude, with 5g indicating. There was a loud bang and a severe jolt was felt through the airframe.

I have heard eyewitness reports in which the aircraft is said to have "staggered". That is perhaps the best way to describe the immediate sensation following the failure. At the same instant there was a sudden and very peculiar increase in slipstream noise. and I found myself leaning against the straps to the left although, as I looked left, the aircraft appeared to be flying level. I had reduced power and centralised controls instinctively at the first signs of trouble.

The reason for the sensation of being pulled to the left was very soon apparent. Although the left wing was flying more or less level, the rest of the aeroplane was rolling left around the failure point. At this stage there was some degree of control over the aircraft, which was by this time beginning to lose height. I throttled fully back to reduce speed and thereby reduce the flight loads, but this caused the nose to drop further. Dihedral was increasing steadily and the roll and yaw to the left were becoming progressively more determined. Full power was then applied in an attempt to get the nose up, but this had no effect at all on the situation. By this time the aircraft was outside the airfield and losing height fast. It was my intention to try to keep the wings as level as possible and to try to achieve a shallow flight path with the intention of arriving, if possible, right way up in the most convenient field available. It was, however, apparent that if control was being lost at that rate, it would have gone completely before reaching the ground. In fact all control was finally lost at about 300ft, 91m.

At this stage the aircraft had turned left nearly 90° from its original heading, and was banked 90° to the left (at least the fuselage was). I thought the wing had folded to about 45° but it was probably less than that, if one takes into account the fright factor. Full right aileron and rudder were being held on and the throttle was wide open as the bank reached 90° left and the nose finally dropped. The sideslip was very high, and the instinctive reaction to pull the stick back only worsened the situation. I had heard a report from Bulgaria some years ago where a top wing bolt had failed on an early mark of Zlin whilst under negative g and that the aircraft had involuntarily flick rolled right way up, whereupon the wing came back into position, and the aircraft was landed by a very frightened, but alive, pilot. I had guessed by this time that a lower wing bolt had failed and that I was faced with a similar situation, albeit inverted.

It seemed that if positive G had saved the Bulgarian, negative G might work for me. In any event, there was nothing else left to try. I centralised the rudder, rolled left and pushed, still with full throttle. The wing snapped back into position with a loud bang. which made me even more concerned for the structure. Immediately the negative G started to rise and the nose started coming up. Altitude was very low by this time and I had no instrument readings at all. For just a moment I thought I was going into the trees, but then the nose was up and the machine was climbing fast, inverted. I was just beginning to think that I might make it after all when the engine died. I checked the fuel pressure - zero. A check around the cockpit revealed the fact that the main fuel cock had been knocked off. This could possibly have been the result of the jolt which accompanied the initial failure. I think I was probably thrown around in the cockpit and may well have accidentally knocked the cock then. I selected reserve fuel and almost immediately realised that this position would take fuel from the bottom of the gravity tank, which was of course now upside down. I therefore re-selected main tank and after a few coughs the engine started and ran at full power.

Inverted circuit
I was quite low again by this time and initially started to climb straight ahead. I then turned back towards the airfield and continued the inverted climb to 1OOOft, 305m. By this time, the remainder of the team had been very quick off the mark and had alerted crash facilities. I throttled back to conserve fuel as I knew the gravity tank was only good for about 8 minutes safe inverted flight. I then turned the aircraft in steady flight and held the stick between my knees (no aileron trimmer) whilst I used both hands to tighten my shoulder harness even more. Had a parachute been carried I would have climbed as high as possible and used it.

I then considered using undercarriage and/or flaps, but rejected both. Flaps were no use to me whilst inverted, and I could not fly right way up anyway. Also if only one flap extended it would cause an immediate loss of control. The undercarriage required more thought. If I could make an inverted approach with a last minute rollout and if the aircraft arrived on its wheels damage might be minimised. However, if the gear fully or partially collapsed the aircraft might turn over. Also, and this was the biggest argument against, the Zlin undercarriage usually extends with a fairly solid thump.

I did not know exactly what damage had occurred and I was concerned in case the strain of lowering the wheels might remove the wing altogether. It was just as well that I left thewheels up, because the failure was not the wing bolt after all, but in the centre section inboard of the undercarriage leg.

I also considered four possibilities for landing, namely, inverted ditching, deliberately crashing inverted into trees to take the impact, inverted crash-landing on the airfield, or an inverted approach with a last minute rollout and hope for the best.

The last seemed to hold the best chances for survival, but I then decided to experiment to see which way was the best to rollout; if the rate of fold of the wing was sufficiently slow it might have been possible to exercise some control over what was obviously going to be a belly landing (I hoped). A rollout to the left was attempted, and the wing immediately started to fold, with the result that the inverted flight was quickly re-established. The rollout to the right was not investigated, as the left wing was obviously being weakened by these manoeuvres. Also the supply of adrenalin was getting rather low by this time.

A wide inverted circuit was made for the grass strip parallel to runway 23. As the crosswind was insignificant this afforded the best approach, clear of buildings and balloons. The threshold was crossed at 112 m.p.h., 180 k.p.h. at about 200ft, 60m with the throttle closed. Petrol and switches were left on in case it was necessary to overshoot; also the canopy was retained, since I did not want my height judgement affected by slipstream. The possibility of a jammed canopy was considered, but the hood is very light, and I felt that I could break my way out if necessary. A slow inverted flare was made and the aircraft was levelled as near to the ground as possible.

Low, low rollout
As the speed fell to 87 m.p.h., 140 k.p.h. a full aileron rollout was made to the right, and just a trace of negative G was maintained in order to hold the left wing in place. The aircraft responded well to the controls at this stage, but as it approached level flight the left wing started to fold up again. The nose was already down as a result of the slight negative G, and subsequent examination of the impact marks showed that the left wing tip touched the ground during the roll, although this could not be felt inside the aircraft. As the wing folded the aircraft hit the ground hard in a slight nose down, left bank attitude. I released the controls and concentrated on trying to roll into a ball, knees and feet pulled up and in, and head down protected by arms. I had a blurred impression of the world going past the windscreen sideways and then with a final jolt, everything stopped. I released the harness, which had done a very good job, and then found that the canopy had sprung 6in, 15cm open and jammed. I didn't bother to investigate this, as the petrol tanks had split! I gave the canopy a resounding blow and it flew open first time. I felt mildly surprised that everything was still working as I evacuated the area, and having decided that the aircraft was not going to burn, and having also collected some semblance of breath and composure, I returned to the aircraft and made all switches safe. The crash services were on the scene very quickly, which was most encouraging. Fortunately they were not required.

The aircraft was a complete write-off, but on reaching into the cockpit and checking the, seat, it was as solid as a rock, all the straps were intact, and on moving the control column, both ailerons worked in the correct sense. True, there was a failure, but it is a tribute to the Czech designers and engineers that the aircraft could be flown at all.

It was a nasty experience, but a lot can be learned from it, notably that the aileron was acting as a geared tab, as the wing folded. This resulted in the left aileron being pulled down, since the aileron rods were intact, and as the wing moved, the aileron was applied without any movement of the stick. Any attempt to apply right aileron merely worsened this situation. I could have saved myself a lot of problems by rolling left immediately the failure occurred. It seems also that the damaged wing must be towards the ground during any rolls, either in or out. The ability to fly over an airfield with crash facilities is absolutely essential. This time assistance was not required, but lives have already been saved by this.

This situation may never be repeated but if such an accident does occur again the information in this account may be useful.

I hope it will never be needed.

From Flight International - 18 June 1970

[Pugilistic Animus]

I dowell I actually can't recall the incident as I was definitely not there or here:}, but I am very aware of the incident in aviation's story:O

Brian Exactly the article I read:D

[27mm]

Many thanks, Brian, good to see the full report.

[deefer dog]

I'm old and priveledged enough to have met Neil before and after the event. His 70's book, "Aerobatics" is still a must read for anyone taking up the sport.

[Brian Abraham]

http://www.history.navy.mil/nan/backissues/2000s/2004/so/blind.pdf

"Blind and Alone Over North Korea" By Kenneth A. Schechter
I was blind, in pain, bleeding profusely and very much alone. At the controls of my A-1 Skyraider attack plane over Wongsang-ni, North Korea, I was climbing toward a solid overcast at 10,000 feet—from which there might be no return.

It was 22 March 1952 and I was just 22 years old. Earlier that day, dawn found me on the flight deck of Valley Forge (CV 45) in the Sea of Japan, warming up my Skyraider. As a pilot in Fighter Squadron 194, the Yellow Devils, I was the standby in case one of the eight planes scheduled for the morning’s flight became inoperative. When Charlie Brown’s plane lost its hydraulic system, I was launched in his place. It was my 27th bombing mission in North Korea. The targets were enemy marshaling yards, railroad tracks and other transportation infrastructure.

On the ninth of my planned 15 bomb runs, at 1,200 feet, an enemy antiaircraft shell exploded in the cockpit. Instinctively, I pulled back on the stick to gain altitude. Then I passed out. When I came to a short time later, I couldn’t see a thing. There was stinging agony in my face and throbbing in my head. I felt for my upper lip. It was almost severed from the rest of my face.

I called out over the radio through my lip mike (which miraculously still worked), “I’m blind! For God’s sake, help me!

Lieutenant (jg) Howard Thayer, in his own Skyraider nearby, heard the distress call. He saw my plane heading straight toward the heavy overcast. He knew that if I entered those clouds no one would be able to help me.

He called out, “Plane in trouble, rock your wings. Plane in trouble, rock your wings.” I did so. Then came the order, “Put your nose down! Put your nose down! Push over. I’m coming up.”

Again, I did as he said and pushed the stick forward. He climbed and flew alongside my plane and radioed, “This is Thayer. This is Thayer. Put your nose over further.”

I complied. Howie Thayer was my roommate on Valley Forge. Hearing his name and his voice gave me just the psychological boost I needed. He continued, “You’re doing all right. Pull back a little. We can level off now.”

Thayer could see that the canopy of my plane was blown away and that my face was a bleeding mess. The crimson stain on the fuselage behind the cockpit turned dark and blended with the Navy blue of the Skyraider as the blood dried. He was amazed I was still alive.

Without the canopy, the 200 mile per hour slipstream and unmuffled engine noise made sending and receiving radio transmissions exceptionally difficult. Despite these obstacles, I began to think clearly in my moments of consciousness and began to try to help myself. Imanaged to pour water from my canteen over my face. For a fleeting instant there was a sight of the instrument panel, which disappeared immediately. I was blind again.

Howard kept up a stream of conversation, “We’re headed south, Ken. We’re heading for Wonsan [a port and prime target on the Sea of Japan]. Not too long.”

The throbbing in my head was getting worse and the blood running down my throat nauseated me. I hurt, but was unable to get the morphine from my first aid kit. I radioed, “Get me down, Howie!”

“Roger. We’re approaching Wonsan. Get ready to bail out.” To which I replied, “Negative! Negative! Not going to bail out.” All too often our pilots had drowned or died of exposure after their planes had been crippled by enemy antiaircraft fire and they ditched the aircraft or bailed out into the frigid waters of the Sea of Japan. My wingman, Lieutenant Commander Tom Pugh, had been killed in just this way on our second mission. In my case, I would have had to successfully evacuate the Skyraider and enter the water blind, with the probability of a tangled parachute harness and with my rubber immersion suit pierced by shell fragments and unable to offer protection from the freezing ocean. To my mind, bailing out meant certain death.

I would not bail out. Howie understood my decision. He would get me back behind the front lines into friendly territory—or I would die in the attempt. We turned and headed south.

Thirty miles behind the front lines, on the coast, was a Marine airfield designated K-18. This was our destination. I wasn’t sure whether I could make it that far as I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Then Howard spotted a cruiser shelling enemy positions and knew that this was the bomb line. South of the bomb line was friendly territory. The instructions continued, “We’re at the bomb line, Ken. We’ll head for K-18. Hold on, Ken. Can you hear me, Ken? Will head for K-18. Over.”

“Roger. Let’s try.” It was an effort to speak.

“Can you make it, Ken?”

“Get me down, you miserable s.o.b., or you’ll have to inventory my gear!” (In case of an aviator’s death, a shipmate must inventory his personal belongings before they are shipped home—not a welcome chore. Howard and I had designated each other for this function.)

I continued to follow Thayer’s directions, but he could see that my head kept flopping down from time to time and he doubted I could make it to K-18, so he decided to get me down right away.

Immediately behind the front lines was a 2,000-foot deserted dirt airstrip named “Jersey Bounce” that the Army used for its light planes performing artillery spotting. Thayer decided to have me land there. “Ken, we’re going down. Push your nose over, drop your right wing. We’re approaching ‘Jersey Bounce.’We’ll make a 270- degree turn and set you down.”

“Roger, Howie, let’s go,” I replied. He said, “left wing down slowly, nose over easy. A little more. Put your landing gear down.”

“To hell with that!” was my instantaneous reply. I had seen this field on earlier missions and could picture it in my mind’s eye. It was rough and short and with wheels down, too many things could go wrong. It was much safer to land on my belly. “Roger, gear up,” Thayer concurred. This was one time when we wouldn’t follow the checklist.

Ahead lay the most critical part of the flight—landing, a complex maneuver requiring precision and skill. As challenging as flying wounded and blind had been up to now, a sightless landing on a tiny dirt strip would be infinitely more difficult. One slip would result in disaster.

From his plane, flying 25 feet away from mine and duplicating my maneuvers, Howard’s voice was cool and confident, but the underlying tension was palpable, “We’re heading straight. Flaps down. Hundred yards to the runway. You’re 50 feet off the ground. Pull back a little. Easy. Easy. That’s good. You’re level. You’re O.K. You’re O.K. Thirty feet off the ground. You’re O.K. You’re over the runway. Twenty feet. Kill it a little. You’re setting down. O.K. O.K. O.K. Cut!”

The shock wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. Some 45 minutes after the shell blew up in my cockpit, my plane hit the ground, lurched momentarily and skidded to a stop in one piece. A perfect landing. No fire. No pain, no strain. The best landing I ever made.

Thayer said elatedly, “You’re on the ground, Ken.” After cutting the switches, I clumsily climbed out of the cockpit. Almost immediately an Army Jeep with two men came, picked me up and took me to a shack on the edge of the field. From there, a helicopter flew me to the K-18 airfield where doctors at the field hospital started to patch me up and give me painkillers.

Thayer flew back to the carrier. I found out later that when he landed, a crowd was there to greet and congratulate him. He wondered how they knew what had happened and was told that most of our transmissions had been picked up on Valley Forge. They had recorded them and played them back for the crew that night.

Meanwhile back at the Marine airfield, the doctors felt I needed more expert medical care than they could offer, so I was transported to the Navy hospital ship Consolation (AH 15) where I underwent immediate surgery. Both of my eyes were bandaged for two weeks, during which time I wasn’t sure if I would ever see again.

But the possibility of a lifetime of blindness was a minor issue compared to just being alive. Eventually, however, I regained sight in my left eye. My career as a Navy carrier pilot was over. My life was not—because although I was blind that day over North Korea, I was not really alone. Howard Thayer had been my eyes. Together, we’d created a miracle. Today, still living on “borrowed time,” I am thankful for every moment of every day.

Epilogue
Howard Thayer made the Navy his career. In January 1961, while flying a night mission in an A-4 Skyhawk from a carrier in the Mediterranean Sea, both he and his squadron commander flew into the water while on landing approach. Their remains were never recovered. Thayer was survived by his wife and three small children.

The plane that Ken Schechter landed at “Jersey Bounce” was jacked up, given a new propeller, flown back to Valley Forge for repairs and returned to service. Ken and Howard’s story became the basis for the 1953 MGM movie, Men of the Fighting Lady. Ken was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross on the flight deck of Constellation (CV 64) at NAS North Island, Calif., on 28 June 1995. “Blind and Alone Over North Korea” was originally published in Chicken Soup for the Veteran’s Soul in May 2001.

[Spooky 2]

I had the pleasure of working with Jack Thayer, Howard Thayer's father. He was a pilot for Western Airlines and ran the small training ceter in Los Angeles. Never new the whole story about his son. Thanks for posting it. :ok:

[Centaurus]

The British test pilot Harold Penrose wrote a book called Adventure with Fate which was first published in 1984. One of the aircraft he test flew was the Westland Wyvern, in 1947. The Wyvern was a large ten ton single engine fighter with contra-rotating propellers. This extract from his book chilled me to the bone.

"I was completing the customary final circuit at Westland with the Wyvern when in a flash of time above Pete Garner's house, where I could see him and his wife in the garden, the world flicked sideways upside-down and the aircraft plunged inverted towards the sea of wedge-shaped roofs.

In that split-second the ambivalent dispassionate part of my mind even recognized the house into which the machine would crash in the next two seconds. - yet animal instinct had already pushed the control column diagonally forward and applied full rudder in the long practiced movements of opposing the roll and lifting the nose.

Shuddering on the verge of stall, the machine screwed laterally around and up, still massively rolling its ten tons past the horizontal, checked, then slowly returned to level a mere hundred feet above the roofs. Opening the throttle to gain vital speed, I glanced outside and saw that both ailerons were up at full lock, one controlled by me with the stick held hard to port, the other independently in repetition of the earlier Whirlwind and Welkin (incidents) but even more dangerously.

Tensely, I climbed to 5000 ft, willing the machine not to turn over, then successfully tried a wide turn by fractionally decreasing my sole controllable aileron, relying on lateral stability for recovery, knowing that with both ailerons up the wings had an effective wash-out that improved their ability to keep level.

Luck was with me. All went well. I radioed my predicament to Ground Control; saw the crash tender and ambulance move into position. In a five-mile curve across open country I headed back towards the west edge of the aerodrome, gambling there would be no bumps to upset that lateral balancing when low down.

Rocking slightly, the Wyvern made it, though there was an apprehensive moment as flaps and undercarriage went down and disturbed the trim, but we touched with a normal three-pointer and great relief, well aware that had the machine dived when it whirled uncontrollably inverted, the verdict would have been "error of judgement while performing aerobatics at a dangerously low altitude" instead of mechanical failure.

Inspection revealed the starboard aileron push-rod had broken at a forked socket.

[Semaphore Sam]

Col. Dye, subject pilot at start of this thread, has a fascinating history...

Purple Heart Austin War Stories - Rufus Dye, Jr. (http://www.purpleheartaustin.org/Dye.htm)

[M2dude]

Does anyone recall the incident which occurred to the late Neil Williams, in which the wing bolts on one side of his Zlin failed, causing the wing to start folding upwards? IIRC, he had the presence of mind to fly inverted, to minimise any further folding, then roll upright just prior to landing, saving both himself and the aircraft. A remarkable feat of airmanship and flying by any standards.

I remember this so well. Not long after this event, while still practising for the World Aerobatics Chapionships, he flew his Zlin into Lyneham (where I was a very young C-130 erk) and told us all about it, over a coffee in the 'A Line'crew rooom. To a man, we were all absolutely agog with his story (Neil of course was a study in total modesty), and one of our guys chirped up with 'sniff; typical ex-officer; you wouldn't have the sense to panic like any normal person'.
I can still remember the shy grin on Mr Williams' face. What an incredible aviator.:D

[derbyshire]

Doesn't the very extended glide of an A330 into (I think) the Canaries a few years ago qualify for inclusion here?

[clunckdriver]

Derbyshire, Niether the 767 out of fuel into Gimli or the Airbus into the Azores are "feats of airmanship", rather examples of use of wrong checklist/ Piss poor comand decision making/total lack of CRM/ the list goes on. Those in the know over here would rather folks read the official reports on these two foul ups rather than the media version or the PR spin of events ,may I sugest you read the other threads on this website to get a better view of the circumstances { Take no heed of our Canadian French/English spats when you do, it is ever thus}

[PPRuNe Pop]

I knew Neil very well, and his wife Lynne. They were both members of the Tiger Club at Redhill and he would be happy to fly with anyone who wanted aerobatic tuition - we flew together many times and his aeros were second to none and we did have some very good pilots at the Tiger Club, Carl Schofield, Pete Jarvis, James Black to name but a few.

He flew Zlins again in aerobatic comps for some time after the incident at Hullavington.

I remember one day when I was duty check pilot that Neil was about to fly Des St Cyrian's Sopwith Pup he had built. Neil let me know he was going north just over the ridge to put the Pup through some checks. It was about an hour later I received a call from Neil to say that he had forced landed the Pup in a rather nice field that was the sports ground of Lloyds Bank at Kingswood. I drove up there to see what help he needed - it turned out that all he needed was castor oil! As I had decided to take an engineer with me he had some with him - he must have known! Just as we were going to get Neil on his way again, a policeman in a panda car turned up and wanted to take a statement from Neil but I'm afraid we nearly went into hysterics when he asked Neil for his driving licence!! One red faced police officer quickly left the scene.

It was a VERY sad day that Neil together with Lynne and an engineer from Doug Arnold's fleet at Blackbushe were killed when they hit a mountain in a He111 just north of Valencia.

His book 'Aerobatics' is one of the best reads for any aspiring aerobatic pilot. The drawing of each maneuver by his brother gives it an edge that others have not.

[DOVES]

Excerpts from the book: "E’ il Comandante che vi parla (This is your Captain Speaking)" By Corrado Schreiber

In one of my trips to New York with the DC-7C the only very difficult and dramatic (but that could have been tragic) episode of my career happened to me. I was captain of Alitalia Flight 602 of April 21 of 1959 from Rome to Milan and to New York and I had left Milan since a few hours, to New York, skipping the stopover in Shannon because unfavourable winds were not expected to require an additional supply of fuel.
The night was calm, we were expected to arrive on time, the flight had become a quiet Atlantic navigation. I left the cockpit after the usual recommendations to the first officer and I went to lie down in bed. I was relaxing for ten minutes when I heard on the left side of the plane, two strong and deaf blows, accompanied by a dry and decisive shake . Immediately returned to the cockpit. The engine number two, namely the inner left was crazy, the speed regulator was not working anymore. The propeller was spinning much more than the engine could tolerate, and was screaming; the tone of the engine, in fact, exceeded the other three’s.
In the meantime the parameters, oil pressure and temperature, were outside the norm.
Together with an engineer (there were two on board) I decided immediately to “Feather” the engine. In doing so the propeller would become neutral to the direction of flight, the engine would stop and we returned to base, which was much closer than the destination. But when the engineer operated the electric actuator for "Feathering" the propeller, it refused to take up to neutral and continued in its mad rush. There was no applicable procedure in the "emergency check ist".
The fact that the propeller didn’t stop involved a huge risk because it created a large aerodynamic resistance and also continuing to turn, would drag all the moving gears and motor (shaft, connecting rods, pistons and accessories) to a failure. The damage would have been severe and might even ignite an inextinguishable fire on board until the cause had ceased.
The fire could also have spread to the area of fuel tanks with easy to understand consequences. Due to the uselessness of the normal emergency procedures, a sudden bright idea was needed.
The engineer cut off the oil from the engine: I hoped that without lubrication it "seized". As a matter of fact, a few minutes after, a new shake convinced us that the motor shaft had broken. A danger was averted. However, the propeller continued to turn on its own and aerodynamic imbalances were disrupting the flying order. The propeller spinner had become a burning block sparkling in the night. The radio operator, had already launched the MAY-DAY message, followed by the sentence: Unable to Maintain attitude.
I realized that the burning shaft of the propeller, sooner or later would cut off, heading, perhaps, toward the fuselage. It is not unlikely that this incident has occurred in more than a plane crash.
I was already down to fourteen thousand feet and had ordered the cab for 'decompression', so if the propeller had struck the fuselage, there was not the risk of an explosive decompression. Knowing the direction of rotation of the engine I impressed to the aircraft a left upward spiral trajectory.
Doing so I gave the propeller, in addition to the centrifugal force, another one caused by gyroscopic precession with a resultant direction that would have detach it from the engine on a course perpendicular to the wing, thus avoiding either the fuselage and the outboard engine.
The propeller, or rather the hot block, pulled away in the right way just as I had expected, and disappeared into the ocean.
The second and dangerous part of the emergency was over. In the propeller spinner place was left a small glowing crater. I decided not to discharge the fire suppressant, which I preferred to keep in case of need. I made up my mind to increase speed: the rushing wind had its effect and the crater was slowly reduced until it disappeared altogether.
I must now face the third phase: the immediate landing at the closest available airport. I decided to land in Shannon. The co-pilot and navigator did prepare the route, distance and flight time. I asked the engineer to calculate the total weight of the planned landing: about Fifty eight thousand Kilos, too many compared to the maximum allowed landing weight of fifty thousand. I had to reduce the weight by damping fuel, but I thought it was not prudent. I did not know exactly what the real damage to the airframe was and how many incandescent particles could still be around. I decided to make an overweight landing. I tried to glide gently, and then if any damage had occurred to the structure, not a big deal: this was not a bigger risk compared to the possibility of a fire.
Like, I think, it happens to all pilots in difficult situations, I made an exceptionally smooth landing. Usually, a bad landing occurs when everything appears simple and easy. Arriving to the parking there was a small crowd of people and an Air France crew. The commander wanted to board to congratulate me. The recognition that came from an unknown fellow, pleased me.
In all this hubbub, thankfully, the passengers had not realized that something was wrong; I had informed them that there was a failure on board and were heading to an alternate airport for landing. But they learned the truth only upon landing, when everything was happily resolved.
The newspapers reported the event all over Europe and I cannot deny that I liked the big appreciative titles. I was struck especially by the title of a German newspaper: "Gut gemacht, riders!" (Well done, pilot!)
It was a rare experience which confirmed, once again, the high degree of safety attained by scheduled flights. Even in a totally unexpected event, everything had gone for the best.

'The commander Corrado Schreiber was awarded with a Silver Medal for Aeronautic Valour for the conduct in this difficult emergency'

[traveller93]

And this one?

Israeli Pilot Land Saftly With One Wing - Video (http://www.metacafe.com/watch/326057/israeli_pilot_land_saftly_with_one_wing/)

Give it enough power and you can make a brick fly!!!

Fantastic!!

[Centaurus]

Doing so I gave the propeller, in addition to the centrifugal force, another one caused by gyroscopic precession with a resultant direction that would have detach it from the engine on a course perpendicular to the wing, thus avoiding either the fuselage and the outboard engine.
The propeller, or rather the hot block, pulled away in the right way just as I had expected, and disappeared into the ocean.

An almost identical situation happened to a USAF Military Air Command (MAC) Stratocruiser C-97 over the North Pacific - Honolulu to USA, in the Fifties. Runaway No 1 prop. Unable to feather. The crew "froze" the engine by cutting off the oil supply, the prop slowed and the pilot deliberately feathered the adjacent prop (No 2 engine) as he was concerned if the No 1 prop came off it would hit the No 2 prop. He then applied strong pitch (elevator) movement and the gyroscopic forces on the free spinning prop caused the prop to depart. He banked instantly hoping to make the prop fly over the fuselage. It did but took chunks of the No 2 stationary prop on the way.

[oldfac]

Tee Emm,
I am Maj. Ron Clisby USAF/Ret, and noticed your posting of a couple of experiences I had a long time ago, in N. Vietnam. The second of which was two days ago '67. About the same time frame, we lost our C.O. to a SAM Missile, when he and another FAC went north , in 2 O-1's to take out the SAM site, but the fighters ground aborted. The NVA commander, obviously knew that they couldn't break down the site and move it right away, so decided to fire two SAM's at the O-l's. The first took out Col. Holmes aircraft, and the second malfunctioned and detonated over the DMZ. The other pilot made it back and told us what happened. The NVA made the right decision, we didn't go back up there for about 5 days, and by then the site was gone.
I spent another tour in "71-'72 in the AC-130A gunships, and was an IP in them until my retirement in 1974.
It was all a long time ago, but memories, some good, some bad, never die.
I've also enjoyed Australia, flying, driving, sailing, but also too long ago. I bought a trimaran in the early '90s and our family sailed her around the world from '93 to '98. Thanks again for your post. Sincerely, Ron Clisby

[Right Way Up]

In recent times one of the most amazing efforts must be that of the DHL A300 crew in Iraq.

[Jane-DoH]

Cardinal

The heroics of tanker crews during the conflict in Southeast Asia is exactly why a tanker should not have draconian flight envelope protections. Lives and aircraft were saved, sometimes far above Mmo.

Agreed

[Tee Emm]

Tee Emm,
I am Maj. Ron Clisby USAF/Ret, and noticed your posting of a couple of experiences I had a long time ago, in N. VietnamMajor Ron Clisby,
What an amazing coincidence that you read Pprune and just happened to be the subject of the story I picked from the USAF flight safety magazine. It is a privilege to see you on Pprune and thank you for your input and confirmation of your experience.

Are you aware of the two books "Cleared Hot" which is a collection of histories by US Air Force and Allied Forward Air Controllers from the Southeast Asia War 1961-1975. They list the names of all those pilots that contributed to the two part volumes. I have read both books and I am sure there are pilots you may already know mentioned in the stories. I understand the books are available through the FAC Association at Index (http://www.fac-assoc.org) or via "CLEARED HOT" by FAC ASSOCIATION, Inc. in History (http://www.lulu.com/content/2813093)

PM me if you would like further information

[AKAAB]

OldFac - is there any chance you were the Capt Ronald Clisby flying the C-130A that landed in Da Nang on 07/07/1966 with the right main hanging by just the hydraulic lines?

My Dad, Alfred Ernest Agnew, "Ernie", flew west yesterday and I just found the National Archive information on a film that must exist of the fated landing he used to tell us about.

[OK465]

This thread is good stuff.

Puts in perspective using 'no ILS GS available' as an excuse for not being able to land an aircraft on a clear day as possibly being somewhat lame.

To add to the OP, as the F-105s were being decimated, Republic came up with what they called the 'pilot recovery system'.

A cover guarded activation switch enabled what was a relatively tiny little silver toggle switch on the right console that would electrically move the TE flaps differentially for roll control if the normal flight control system had damage. The idea being that the pilot could use the roll control and thrust to point the aircraft in a direction that would ultimately provide for an ejection in 'friendly' territory. :eek:

Republic eventually 'upgraded' this to the 'aircraft recovery system' which provided a slightly larger little silver toggle switch on the right console that not only provided roll control, but also pitch control....when you pulled the little switch aft, the nose went up as a result of both TE flaps now moving toward down and vice-versa....all electric with the TE flaps. The idea being you could actually land the aircraft with this system.

In transition training (near the end of the F-105 service life) I got the 'opportunity' to use this system at altitude....

....first time I ever flew with a side-stick and electric 'flight controls'.

I think Republic may have been somewhat optimistic. :}

[AKAAB]

I did a lengthy internet search and was able to confirm Ron Clisby flew C-130s in the same squadron as my father. Then, I found his phone number. I was hesitant to call, but as soon as he heard my last name he immediately started talking about my Dad. He confirmed he was the aircraft commander on the C-130A emergency landing in Da Nang on 07/07/1966 (there is a film in the National Archives we're trying to get a copy of.) Hearing the entire story from Ron filled in a lot of gaps about the event and he said he still had the accident report and would send me a copy. He is the only person I've ever spoken with that flew with Dad back in the day.

With my father having passed away the day before, it was very uplifting to spend a few minutes on the phone with someone that that remembers that time in his life. We were little kids living back in Okinawa and had no idea what he was really doing when he'd leave for weeks at a time.

As far as I know, Dad never flew again except one time with me in an Agusta 109 I needed to do a maintenance flight on. While cruising along over the Everglades, I handed him the controls and it was like he was still in the T-34 in Bainbridge...steady and smooth, eyes on the horizon like he had never stopped flying.

[18-Wheeler]

I have a text copy of part of a book written by Captain P G Taylor, on his trip across the Tasman Sea with Sir Charles Kingsford-Smith.
It's where they lose a prop and hence an engine, and sinking down towards the ocean. They throw everything that isn't bolted down out of the plane to stop that and find that with full power on the remaining two engines on the Fokker it'll just stay airborne. But the other outboard engine runs low on oil so he has to go outside the plane to collect oil from the dead engine then transfer it to the other outboard running engine.
It's a stunning read of huge bravery but too long to post here - so I zipped it up and it's on my site for you to download. http://www.billzilla.org/temp/southerncross.rar

[212man]

Doesn't the very extended glide of an A330 into (I think) the Canaries a few years ago qualify for inclusion here?

It was the Azores.

Probably qualifies as an act of superb flying skill. Not so sure about the airmanship that got them into that predicament, though :uhoh:

[Ex Cargo Clown]

Capt Moody?