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Iced up with a Vengeance

Old 18th Jul 2017, 13:40
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Iced up with a Vengeance

It is a typical Melbourne cold and windy night as I pen this and the following story selected from my treasured collection of Mac Job’s Aviation Safety Digest magazines (No. 105) is perhaps a timely reminder of the danger of ice accretion in cloud over the Victorian Alps at this time of the year. Except in this story it happened in December. The aircraft was a Vultee Vengeance single engine dive-bomber and the year was 1944.
See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vultee...ralian_service.

Here is the story as relayed to the editor of Aviation Safety Digest, who entitled it From one of our readers – a valid message from the past.

“Although I am not a licensed pilot and fly only occasionally with a friend, I still have an enthusiasm for aeroplanes and read Aviation Safety Digest with great interest. The regular occurrence of accidents caused by pilots pressing on in marginal weather seems as prevalent today as when I was a pilot in the RAAF from 1942 to 1946. Perhaps an account of my own lack of caution in 1944 may give you an opportunity to repeat the lesson once again with a different slant – even if it is 35 years after the event.

On the morning of 11 December 1944 I flew an RAAF Vengeance from East Sale to Tocumwal. It is about 290 km and the track lies across the rugged Southern Alps with Mount Buller reaching up to about 5500 feet. The weather was fine and the flight took about an hour.
At the time I had logged about 500 hours in single-engine aircraft, with over half those hours on Vengeances which I had been flying continuously for more than a year, including a spell in a dive bomber squadron. I mention this only to indicate that I felt quite comfortable in the aeroplane.

I took off on the return flight from Tocumwal at 1700 hours without getting a route weather forecast. It had been fine all the way that morning, it was clear now at Tocumwal, so why waste time when I could see my way and looking forward to downing an ale in the mess at East Sale by 1820 hours.

I climbed to the planned cruising altitude of 8000 feet, adjusted revs, boost and mixture and settled down for a pleasant late afternoon view of the Alps. Just past Benalla clouds loomed ahead, so I began climbing with the aim of either flying over them or through the canyons between the tops. At 14,000 feet over Mansfield it was obvious that this plan would not work. The cloud tops seemed to be over 20,000 feet and the choice was to return to Tocumwal or proceed into cloud on instruments.

I chose the latter course. Lining up my gyro compass with the magnetic compass and checking all the blind flying instruments, I entered cloud. My intention was to continue on course, let down to 10,000 feet, fly five minutes past my ETA, then if still in cloud to let down straight ahead over Bass Strait. It would then be a simple matter to turn and fly north to the coast, which I knew very well in that area.
Not long after entering cloud, severe turbulence and freezing conditions were encountered. This in itself was not particularly alarming, since the Vengeance was a very stable and robust machine with wings built to withstand about 12g. Perhaps in Spartan sort of way, I was even enjoying the experience.

Suddenly the situation changed. The airspeed and rate of climb needles flickered and assumed meaningless positions, and I became decidedly uneasy. The altimeter began to unwind and the familiar hiss of air passing the canopy indicated high speed. The aircraft must be in a spiral dive but what the hell should I do? Glancing quickly outside, the penny dropped. The wings were covered in clear ice and the pitot head was encased with it too. I switched on the pitot heat and prayed it was not too late.

Just as suddenly as they had gone unserviceable the instruments registered again. The pitot heat had worked mercifully fast. The airspeed was over 350 knots and the rate of descent was `off the clock`. First, get the wings level on the artificial horizon, then pull out of the dive. When this was achieved the altimeter read well under 7000 feet and Mount Buller was probably not far away.
Stabilised again on course at 8000 feet in continuing turbulence, I waited for ETA plus five minutes and began to let down. At this time I had been on instruments for about 30 minutes, and with 1000 feet showing on the altimeter, was still in cloud and looking anxiously for the ocean. At 800 feet I broke out in heavy rain and smartly turned to the north. After 10 minutes, when no coastline appeared, my confidence was evaporating. Was the compass astray? Maybe I was heading out to sea. I asked my rear seat passenger what his compass read - the same as mine. Okay, but what had happened to Australia?

Five minutes later we emerged from the rain into reasonably clear skies and ahead lay what looked like Lakes Entrance. Making a positive identification, I turned west for Sale. We landed there just before last light, having taken almost two hours for the trip. The aircraft still had a coating of ice when I parked it on the tarmac. The control tower was unmanned as flying at the base had terminated by mid-afternoon. Because no departure signal had got through from Tocumwal, they were not even expecting us.

It was a very chastened young man who sat in his room that night and pondered the extent of his folly. Firstly, no check on the weather. Then pressing on because it was more desirable to spend the night at home than to endure the minor hassles of bunking down elsewhere. And finally, failing to switch on the pitot heat in icing conditions.

Pressing on was the major sin because, as it turned out we had flown blind through a line of thunderstorms with all their related hazards. Full marks to the Vultee Aircraft Corporation for building such a stout aeroplane which survived the tremendous buffeting of several cumulo-nimbus clouds.
One small afterthought. Despite my folly, I survived probably because of regular sessions on the ground in the Link Trainer. If you fly must IFR, it pays to keep in practice. But if you want to be an old pilot, it is better to treat the weather with the respect it deserves.
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Old 19th Jul 2017, 00:06
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Thank you Centaurus, as timely today as it was in 1944, in spite of GPS, ADSB, cabin heaters, and glass cockpits. The weather never changes, it is always waiting.
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Old 19th Jul 2017, 01:35
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ADF Serials Message Board -> Dakota A65-50 Crashed Cowombat 1954
This time a RAAF Dakota caught in similar weather and similar area except this time it didn't make it out of trouble
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