40 Years ago, this week
Thread Starter
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 370
Likes: 18
From: Oman
40 Years ago, this week
Chapter 1.
A Lesson
20th October 1984
D Flight 22 (Search and Rescue) Squadron. Leconfield (East Yorkshire)
“ We’ve got a job”! Bob the operations clerk shouted through to the crewroom as he hit the “Scramble” bell on the desk. A loud clanging started up in the hangar and people began running to their tasks preparing the helicopter.
I jumped to my feet, rushed through to the ops room and started clambering in to my immersion suit as Bob gave us the rough details of the incident. A fishing boat out of Grimsby, the “Viscaria", had suffered engine failure some hours ago and was under tow from another fishing boat. They were about 100 miles offshore. The weather was deteriorating quickly and the vessel was taking on water and threatened to go under. There were three fishermen on board.
When I say the weather was deteriorating, I mean it was bloody awful! A deep depression had just crossed over England, giving gale force winds and howling rain. It had moved away eastwards, into the North Sea, just where our fishing vessels were struggling westwards, directly into the gale.
I grabbed my helmet and lifejacket, donning them as I went down the stairs which led to the helicopter pan. The Houchin external power supply was already connected and running as I clambered up the side of the big Wessex and removed the pitot cover just outside the cockpit side window. I swung my leg in, reaching for the straps of the backpack dinghy which was my backrest, at the same time flicking on the battery switch and fuel pumps, then hitting the start button to get the first engine going. The cockpit had been prepared by me for a quick start at the beginning of the shift. I monitored the gauges jumping in to life as I continued to strap in. First engine running, hydraulics and electrics good so I gave the signal to unplug the Houchin, checked the rotor brake pressure again, then set about getting the second engine going. When it was at a steady idle I squeezed forward on the speed select to apply some torque before releasing the rotor brake and accelerated the engine to achieve full speed on the rotors. There was a switch to operate to get both engines driving the rotors, after pulling the port engine to idle. This took the engine from driving the accessories to driving the transmission and, when complete, the port engine was accelerated to match the starboard. Ready to go!
My crewmates had clambered on board after the rotors were running, acknowledging the “thumbs up” from me before walking under the rotor disc. With me that day were winch operator Master Navigator “Uncle” Ron Dedmen and winchman Master Air Loadmaster Eric Ainslie. Ron was the last non-commissioned navigator flying on front-line operations, having joined the RAF during WW2! There was not a more experienced winch operator on Search and Rescue. He joined me in the cockpit. Eric was also a very senior loadmaster, a wiry Geordie with a dry sense of humour. I couldn’t have asked for a better crew.
A quick check that the winch was working correctly, then it was time to lift. Eric was checking for any other aircraft around, giving me “Clear above and behind” as I squeezed up on the collective lever in my left hand, pushing the left pedal to counteract the torque swing to the right, then as we broke ground easing the nose forward to fly away. As we cleared the shelter of our parking spot in the lee of the hangar, we plunged into the gale force wind blowing from the west. Ron had given me an initial heading and I banked steeply to the left, leveling out on that track. The wind was behind us and, pulling full power, our airspeed was 110 knots, with a groundspeed closer to 160 knots due to the strong wind! I checked in with Humberside Radar. “No traffic". Nobody else was daft enough to be airborne that morning…...
En route we discussed our options. With the strong westerly wind it was possible to continue on to Holland! The trouble was that I had no charts or frequencies for Dutch airspace. Plus, the bad weather was heading in that direction and could make life difficult. The other option was to land on one of the gas production rigs in the “Rough" field and refuel before battling on towards Grimsby hospital landing site. Either option gave us about 20 minutes to winch up the survivors. The wind had now picked up and was blowing 70 knots, storm force 11 equal to hurricane strength one! I decided that we would refuel on the rig, if all went to plan. Ron was navigating using the three Decca decoders in the cockpit and transposing the information onto a special map
After about 35 minutes we spotted the stricken boat. I was surprised to see that the tow line was about 400 metres long, but of course it made sense. The waves were now huge, I had never seen anything like it! From trough to crest was at least 40 feet and the howling wind was blowing spindrift from the crests, which occasionally were breaking, swamping the “Viscaria”. If she hadn’t been under tow she would definitely have breached and gone under.
I came to a high hover alongside the boat so we could assess the winching options. Ron had flipped the cockpit seat up and disappeared down into the cabin. There was a small clear area on the stern where the three fishermen were huddled, hanging on as their vessel continued its roller coaster ride. That was our target area.
Eric prepared to be winched down into that hell. He was so concerned at the conditions that he opted to wear a backpack one-man dinghy, despite the hindrance it might be to his movement. It was the only time I knew a winchman to wear one.
The first thing to do was to lower a “ Hi-Line” to the deck. Basically, this was a weighted rope attached to the winch hook which would help the survivors guide Eric onto the deck next to them and allow a bit of leeway in the winching operation. It had instructions for them NOT to lash it to any part of the boat but to keep ahold of it in their hands. It took a few attempts to get it to them, with the wind blowing so strongly it was trailing behind, even with the weights. Ron’s steady monotone voice never changed in pitch as he directed me towards the target. I was concentrating harder than I had ever concentrated before. I had a knot in my stomach as I followed Ron’s instructions and kept station with this bucking bronco of a trawler. Success! They had the Hi-Line!
Eric attached himself to the winch, Ron checked him over. Then he was out of the door, dangling on the wire and swinging in the wind. Again, we moved closer to the boat, Ron’s voice as steady as a rock, me with a lump in my throat fighting to keep the big helicopter in the right position. I had sight of the front of the boat as we moved in, the masts were swinging wildly below me. The fishermen helped guide Eric towards them, Ron picked the perfect moment and placed Eric next to them. Relieved for a second, I moved back and left when told to, then watched as Eric prepared the first two survivors to be lifted, having taken two strops down with him. I glanced up and forward, which was a mistake, as all I could see were rank after rank of massive waves, stretching to the horizon! Ron directed us back to the overhead position and said “ up gently” when Eric gave him the thumbs up. Again, I moved back and left as Ron winched in the first two. When they got to the door Ron busied himself with seating them and strapping them in as I continued to look down on the Viscaria, now with just Eric and the skipper on board. As I watched, she was pulled up another monstrous wave by the tow line. This time, as she approached the crest, the wave broke over the top of her, completely submerging Eric and the skipper. I thought she was finished but no! She appeared on the other side, surfing down into the trough. Eric looked up at me and, grinning, started banging his chest as if to restart his heart! I just thought “ mad bastard”! Ron was now ready and we moved back for the final lift of Eric and the skipper. The manoeuvering seemed more difficult, or maybe I was tiring, but we got there and with another “up gently” I moved up and away from the boat with a sense of profound relief. Ron had to deal with a swing on the wire as he winched up the two blokes. Eventually they were at the door, then on board. “Winching complete, door closed”. We had done it and Eric hadn’t needed to use his dinghy!
I set course for the rig noting the much slower groundspeed. It was only about 50 miles away but it was going to take us an hour to get there. I closed my cockpit window and could smell the cigarette smoke drifting up from the cabin. Although it was not official policy, we carried an “ Emergency” packet in the First Aid kit for survivors and it was always appreciated.
Landing on the rig helipad was fine, even with the gusting wind. At least it was stationary and it was only us moving about! It was too windy to stop the rotors so the deck crew gave us a “hot" refuel. The galley staff had sent up some cakes and hot tea which were very welcome. Refuel complete we prepared to leave for Grimsby hospital landing site. I was about to learn a practical lesson on helicopter theory of flight.
As a helicopter starts to move forward from the hover and increase speed the “clean" air entering the rotor disc from above helps the blades to turn and actually reduces the power needed to maintain height. However, moving increases the drag through the air, increasing the power required to maintain height. At a certain airspeed one cancels out the other and gives the minimum power needed to maintain height. This is the “Minimum Drag Speed", different for each helicopter; for the Wessex it was 65 knots. As I lifted from the pad we were already doing 55-60kts. I eased the nose forward, as I’d done hundreds of times before, expecting to fly up and away. But as soon as we started moving I reached the minimum drag speed and the Old Bird needed a lot more power just to maintain height! We started sinking and my only option was to overtorque to 3500lbs, squeezing the nose further forward as I did so. We cleared the deck but I reckon that the tail rotor missed it by inches. I had been flying the Wessex for six years now and had a good knowledge of how much fuselage was attached behind me. Had the tail rotor hit, we would have been spinning down into those waves or blown into the rig legs. But we made it! With hindsight and the wisdom of experience, I should have lifted vertically to at least 50ft before moving forwards. Lesson learned.
We continued on towards Grimsby hospital landing site, the wind had dropped to force 7 or 8 by now. The full welcoming committee was waiting, Fire Service, Police, Ambulance and Coastguard. Word had got out and I believe some family members were there also. I kept the rotors running as Eric escorted the survivors out of the cabin and under the disc. He gave me a “thumbs up" to return and I reciprocated. Job done, we lifted and returned to Leconfield where the blokes swarmed over the aircraft, getting it ready as soon as possible for any new missions coming in. Shift change was at lunchtime so we were soon handing over to the incoming crew, who wanted all the details of what we had been up to! Then cycled off home, still to be available if a second crew was required.
What had brought me to a job like this?
Up Gently: The Life and Times of a Helicopter Pilot https://amzn.eu/d/6uNiwdT
A Lesson
20th October 1984
D Flight 22 (Search and Rescue) Squadron. Leconfield (East Yorkshire)
“ We’ve got a job”! Bob the operations clerk shouted through to the crewroom as he hit the “Scramble” bell on the desk. A loud clanging started up in the hangar and people began running to their tasks preparing the helicopter.
I jumped to my feet, rushed through to the ops room and started clambering in to my immersion suit as Bob gave us the rough details of the incident. A fishing boat out of Grimsby, the “Viscaria", had suffered engine failure some hours ago and was under tow from another fishing boat. They were about 100 miles offshore. The weather was deteriorating quickly and the vessel was taking on water and threatened to go under. There were three fishermen on board.
When I say the weather was deteriorating, I mean it was bloody awful! A deep depression had just crossed over England, giving gale force winds and howling rain. It had moved away eastwards, into the North Sea, just where our fishing vessels were struggling westwards, directly into the gale.
I grabbed my helmet and lifejacket, donning them as I went down the stairs which led to the helicopter pan. The Houchin external power supply was already connected and running as I clambered up the side of the big Wessex and removed the pitot cover just outside the cockpit side window. I swung my leg in, reaching for the straps of the backpack dinghy which was my backrest, at the same time flicking on the battery switch and fuel pumps, then hitting the start button to get the first engine going. The cockpit had been prepared by me for a quick start at the beginning of the shift. I monitored the gauges jumping in to life as I continued to strap in. First engine running, hydraulics and electrics good so I gave the signal to unplug the Houchin, checked the rotor brake pressure again, then set about getting the second engine going. When it was at a steady idle I squeezed forward on the speed select to apply some torque before releasing the rotor brake and accelerated the engine to achieve full speed on the rotors. There was a switch to operate to get both engines driving the rotors, after pulling the port engine to idle. This took the engine from driving the accessories to driving the transmission and, when complete, the port engine was accelerated to match the starboard. Ready to go!
My crewmates had clambered on board after the rotors were running, acknowledging the “thumbs up” from me before walking under the rotor disc. With me that day were winch operator Master Navigator “Uncle” Ron Dedmen and winchman Master Air Loadmaster Eric Ainslie. Ron was the last non-commissioned navigator flying on front-line operations, having joined the RAF during WW2! There was not a more experienced winch operator on Search and Rescue. He joined me in the cockpit. Eric was also a very senior loadmaster, a wiry Geordie with a dry sense of humour. I couldn’t have asked for a better crew.
A quick check that the winch was working correctly, then it was time to lift. Eric was checking for any other aircraft around, giving me “Clear above and behind” as I squeezed up on the collective lever in my left hand, pushing the left pedal to counteract the torque swing to the right, then as we broke ground easing the nose forward to fly away. As we cleared the shelter of our parking spot in the lee of the hangar, we plunged into the gale force wind blowing from the west. Ron had given me an initial heading and I banked steeply to the left, leveling out on that track. The wind was behind us and, pulling full power, our airspeed was 110 knots, with a groundspeed closer to 160 knots due to the strong wind! I checked in with Humberside Radar. “No traffic". Nobody else was daft enough to be airborne that morning…...
En route we discussed our options. With the strong westerly wind it was possible to continue on to Holland! The trouble was that I had no charts or frequencies for Dutch airspace. Plus, the bad weather was heading in that direction and could make life difficult. The other option was to land on one of the gas production rigs in the “Rough" field and refuel before battling on towards Grimsby hospital landing site. Either option gave us about 20 minutes to winch up the survivors. The wind had now picked up and was blowing 70 knots, storm force 11 equal to hurricane strength one! I decided that we would refuel on the rig, if all went to plan. Ron was navigating using the three Decca decoders in the cockpit and transposing the information onto a special map
After about 35 minutes we spotted the stricken boat. I was surprised to see that the tow line was about 400 metres long, but of course it made sense. The waves were now huge, I had never seen anything like it! From trough to crest was at least 40 feet and the howling wind was blowing spindrift from the crests, which occasionally were breaking, swamping the “Viscaria”. If she hadn’t been under tow she would definitely have breached and gone under.
I came to a high hover alongside the boat so we could assess the winching options. Ron had flipped the cockpit seat up and disappeared down into the cabin. There was a small clear area on the stern where the three fishermen were huddled, hanging on as their vessel continued its roller coaster ride. That was our target area.
Eric prepared to be winched down into that hell. He was so concerned at the conditions that he opted to wear a backpack one-man dinghy, despite the hindrance it might be to his movement. It was the only time I knew a winchman to wear one.
The first thing to do was to lower a “ Hi-Line” to the deck. Basically, this was a weighted rope attached to the winch hook which would help the survivors guide Eric onto the deck next to them and allow a bit of leeway in the winching operation. It had instructions for them NOT to lash it to any part of the boat but to keep ahold of it in their hands. It took a few attempts to get it to them, with the wind blowing so strongly it was trailing behind, even with the weights. Ron’s steady monotone voice never changed in pitch as he directed me towards the target. I was concentrating harder than I had ever concentrated before. I had a knot in my stomach as I followed Ron’s instructions and kept station with this bucking bronco of a trawler. Success! They had the Hi-Line!
Eric attached himself to the winch, Ron checked him over. Then he was out of the door, dangling on the wire and swinging in the wind. Again, we moved closer to the boat, Ron’s voice as steady as a rock, me with a lump in my throat fighting to keep the big helicopter in the right position. I had sight of the front of the boat as we moved in, the masts were swinging wildly below me. The fishermen helped guide Eric towards them, Ron picked the perfect moment and placed Eric next to them. Relieved for a second, I moved back and left when told to, then watched as Eric prepared the first two survivors to be lifted, having taken two strops down with him. I glanced up and forward, which was a mistake, as all I could see were rank after rank of massive waves, stretching to the horizon! Ron directed us back to the overhead position and said “ up gently” when Eric gave him the thumbs up. Again, I moved back and left as Ron winched in the first two. When they got to the door Ron busied himself with seating them and strapping them in as I continued to look down on the Viscaria, now with just Eric and the skipper on board. As I watched, she was pulled up another monstrous wave by the tow line. This time, as she approached the crest, the wave broke over the top of her, completely submerging Eric and the skipper. I thought she was finished but no! She appeared on the other side, surfing down into the trough. Eric looked up at me and, grinning, started banging his chest as if to restart his heart! I just thought “ mad bastard”! Ron was now ready and we moved back for the final lift of Eric and the skipper. The manoeuvering seemed more difficult, or maybe I was tiring, but we got there and with another “up gently” I moved up and away from the boat with a sense of profound relief. Ron had to deal with a swing on the wire as he winched up the two blokes. Eventually they were at the door, then on board. “Winching complete, door closed”. We had done it and Eric hadn’t needed to use his dinghy!
I set course for the rig noting the much slower groundspeed. It was only about 50 miles away but it was going to take us an hour to get there. I closed my cockpit window and could smell the cigarette smoke drifting up from the cabin. Although it was not official policy, we carried an “ Emergency” packet in the First Aid kit for survivors and it was always appreciated.
Landing on the rig helipad was fine, even with the gusting wind. At least it was stationary and it was only us moving about! It was too windy to stop the rotors so the deck crew gave us a “hot" refuel. The galley staff had sent up some cakes and hot tea which were very welcome. Refuel complete we prepared to leave for Grimsby hospital landing site. I was about to learn a practical lesson on helicopter theory of flight.
As a helicopter starts to move forward from the hover and increase speed the “clean" air entering the rotor disc from above helps the blades to turn and actually reduces the power needed to maintain height. However, moving increases the drag through the air, increasing the power required to maintain height. At a certain airspeed one cancels out the other and gives the minimum power needed to maintain height. This is the “Minimum Drag Speed", different for each helicopter; for the Wessex it was 65 knots. As I lifted from the pad we were already doing 55-60kts. I eased the nose forward, as I’d done hundreds of times before, expecting to fly up and away. But as soon as we started moving I reached the minimum drag speed and the Old Bird needed a lot more power just to maintain height! We started sinking and my only option was to overtorque to 3500lbs, squeezing the nose further forward as I did so. We cleared the deck but I reckon that the tail rotor missed it by inches. I had been flying the Wessex for six years now and had a good knowledge of how much fuselage was attached behind me. Had the tail rotor hit, we would have been spinning down into those waves or blown into the rig legs. But we made it! With hindsight and the wisdom of experience, I should have lifted vertically to at least 50ft before moving forwards. Lesson learned.
We continued on towards Grimsby hospital landing site, the wind had dropped to force 7 or 8 by now. The full welcoming committee was waiting, Fire Service, Police, Ambulance and Coastguard. Word had got out and I believe some family members were there also. I kept the rotors running as Eric escorted the survivors out of the cabin and under the disc. He gave me a “thumbs up" to return and I reciprocated. Job done, we lifted and returned to Leconfield where the blokes swarmed over the aircraft, getting it ready as soon as possible for any new missions coming in. Shift change was at lunchtime so we were soon handing over to the incoming crew, who wanted all the details of what we had been up to! Then cycled off home, still to be available if a second crew was required.
What had brought me to a job like this?
Up Gently: The Life and Times of a Helicopter Pilot https://amzn.eu/d/6uNiwdT
Last edited by whoateallthepies; 23rd October 2024 at 09:46.
