Highlights of 20+ Years in the U.S. Navy
Part 3: Pilot Error
CDR Davis
As a sequel to the recent article, "Don't Go Near the Water", AOPA Member, Norm Davis, has submitted some of his many experiences in his 20-year career as a US Navy pilot. Following his tour of duty with VX6, flying in the Antarctic, he received orders to join Attack Squadron 65 (VA 65), via Aviation Electronics Officer School at Memphis, Tennessee, and the Group (RAG) Squadron VA 42 at NAS Oceana, Virginia, flying the AD6 Skyraider. A RAG squadron is one dedicated to refreshing pilots in fleet operational aircraft after they have been on duty elsewhere. This ensures that squadrons at sea always have fully trained and ready pilots. Norm continues:
By Norm Davis, CDR USN
During the next three years I was Maintenance Officer and the squadron participated in two nine-month deployments to the Mediterranean aboard the aircraft carrier, USS Intrepid (CVA 11). This carrier is now a floating museum in New York Harbor.
Squadron policy for integrating new pilots was to assign them as "spare" pilot for their first launch. Aircraft would be launched as sections (two planes), one after the other. In order to ensure that two aircraft would be launched, a third would be manned, to be launched in the event that one went down.
Assigning a new pilot as a spare pilot provided him with flight deck experience without necessarily requiring that he launch. He would then be assigned later as a "go" pilot. I was assigned as a spare for the skipper and his wingman. The wingman's aircraft went down mechanically and I found myself taxiing forward to launch. After the launch, the skipper's radio went out and he passed the lead to me. We flew around for the next one and a half hours or so and then returned to the ship. Since the skipper's radio was out, I had to lead into the break and set him up for an approach - dropping him off on the ball and going around to trap behind him.
On another occasion, I spared for a night flight. My aircraft was down and I reported it as such. I then heard one of the other pilots come up on the radio and report his aircraft "up", but the pilot "down" (he had suddenly become nauseous). Of course, he never mentioned that he had been up all night playing cards. There was a pregnant pause over the radio, followed by the order for me to man the other aircraft - while the launch was underway.
A primary mission was long-range low-level attack. The Cold War was in full bloom. Krushchev was banging his shoe on the table at the U.N, exploding 50 megaton bombs in the atmosphere and threatening to "bury the West." We were part of the front line to meet the threat. We each had targets assigned deep in Russia as part of an integrated response (SlOP) which included ballistic missiles, submarine launched missiles, and USAF strategic air command (SAC). This required planning to fly for long hours at low level to avoid radar and deliver a nuclear weapon on military targets. To practice, we would fly low level all over the Mediterranean countries, often launching before dawn and landing after dark.
On one such mission, I flew from the carrier to Italy, north through the mountains to the border with Switzerland, south down the west coast of Italy to cross over west to the island volcano, Stromboli, south to Mount Aetna, and east to my target at Reggio de Calabria, an old WWII airstrip which was then a race track.
I then performed a practice loft maneuver - no bomb - recovering from the maneuver to escape back towards the south slope of Mount Aetna, and then flying the length of Sicily's south coast to cross north to Palermo and return to the carrier in the Med. This flight took 11.4 hours, during which the greatest height reached above the ground was during the loft maneuver - 1800 feet. It was mid-winter, and to ensure survival in event of ditching, we wore rubber "poopy suits."
One real problem that we had to solve was how to relieve oneself in flight. The aircraft had a hose, like a surgical hose, with a small funnel at the top. The hose was vented to the underside of the fuselage. This was called a "relief tube". The poopy suit had a small trapdoor with access through a roll-up tube about four inches across and 14 inches long. It was necessary, when feeling the urge, to unroll the tube, reach in to find the right part of anatomy - quite reduced in size after hours of flying, I might say - feed it into the folds of tube, and then pee into the funnel; all the while flying the aircraft! This was so difficult to do, that most of us would be very careful with our diet before such flights to avoid having to use the tube. On the flight just described, I just had to use the tube. I was so relieved at my success that, after recovering aboard ship I wrote a letter to Annette starting with the statement, "Honey, today I truly became a man!"
I mentioned the loft maneuver. It was a half Cuban-8 started from a run-in at 100 feet AGL towards the target. At a predetermined identification point (the IP) short of the target, a pull-up into a loop was initiated. Four G's were maintained in the pull and, at a steep nose up position the LABS (Loft Automatic Bombing System) would automatically release the bomb on a 45 degree trajectory, towards the target. The pull would be completed into a half loop, i. e. through to the inverted position and down through 45 degrees nose down, at which time a roll upright would be accomplished so as to finish in a dive away from the target down to ground level again and away. This maneuver was designed to set the aircraft at maximum distance away from the bomb burst - thus improving survivability. This procedure was aptly called "the Idiot Loop", and it did have its dangers.
One fatal problem that would occur was a presumed stall and spin, especially during roll recovery to wings level after the half-loop. Some pilots were killed flying this maneuver during initial training and the accidents were attributed to "poor pilot technique". Prior to our first deployment to the Med., all pilots in our squadron had to become proficient in the technique. We would fly to a target area south of Virginia Beach called Stumpy Point. It was a target set up in tidal waters. Stumps, or posts were arrayed in a bullseye pattern and run-in IPs were marked by posts.
I was in a section of two aircraft scheduled to practice there one day. We each made a series of runs and lofts with small blue practice bombs, which had 10- gauge shells in them to mark the spot with smoke when they hit. On my final maneuver, I commenced rolling wings level on the recovery, but the stick became stuck and remained with full left aileron. I did about two and a half complete rolls on the way down.
An AD "Skyraider"
The AD has an aileron boost system that increases stick-throw effectiveness by four times. The boost is hydraulic with a double-action cylinder. If it becomes contaminated with dirt, it can seize. To remedy this, there is a boost release T-handle on the left-hand console. To pull the T-handle, one must reach over with the right hand and pull the handle, across the cockpit. Then the stick forces multiply by four. I decided this was not a very practical thing to do while rolling and heading straight for the tidewater. So my only recourse was to put both feet up on the instrument panel and, using my knees for leverage, attempt to force the stick to neutral.
There was no time for fear, in fact, I remember feeling extremely calm and determined. The thought did flash through my mind that it was so easy to die and I wished I could comfort Annette with that thought.
The attempt worked, the stick released and I was able to level the wings and stay in the air. I did leave a big "pancake" in the water, however, according to my wingman who had been observing. Then - my knees started to shake. I didn't dare attempt to turn.
I then pulled the T-handle and flew very carefully, with long shallow turns, back to Oceana NAS.
After a long straight-in approach, I landed safely and taxied back to the hangar. The hydraulic boost mechanism was dismantled and some scoring was found in the cylinder, from a minute grain of sand or metal. A flight safety dispatch was sent to all other squadrons, relating the incident to earlier unexplained "spin outs" from Idiot Loops. All squadrons were directed to dismantle and inspect their hydraulic cylinders. A few were found with contamination, and, most importantly, there were no more accidents during the Idiot Loop that were attributed to "pilot error."