Mike[_7_]
September 21st 07, 02:43 PM
from http://www.onemarinesview.com/one_marines_view/2007/09/f18-night-carri.html
F18 NIGHT CARRIER EMERGENCY
Hey, I felt the need to share with you all the exciting night I had on
the 23rd. It has nothing to do with me wanting to talk about me. It
has everything to do with sharing what will no doubt become a better
story as the years go by.
So, there I was... Manned up a hot seat for the 2030 launch about 500
miles north of Hawaii (insert visions of many Mai-Tais here). Spotted
just forward of the navigation pole and eventually taxied off toward
the island where I do a 180 and get spotted to be the first one off
cat I (insert foreboding music here). There's another Hornet from our
sister squadron parked ass over the track about a quarter of the way
down the cat. Eventually he gets a move on and they lower my launch
bar and start the launch cycle.
All systems are go on the run-up and after waiting the requisite 5-
seconds or so to make sure my flight controls are good to go (there 's
a lot to be said for good old cables and pulleys), I turn on my
lights. As is my habit, I shift my eyes to the catwalk and watch the
deck edge dude, and as he starts his routine of looking left then
right, I put my head back. As the cat fires, I stage the blowers and
am along for the ride.
Just prior to the end of the stroke there's a huge flash and a
simultaneous boom and my world is in turmoil. My little pink body is
doing 145 knots or so and is 100 feet above the Black Pacific. And
there it stays - except for the airspeed, which decreases to 140
knots. The throttles aren't going any farther forward despite my
Schwarzzenegerian efforts to make them do so.
>From out of the ether I hear a voice say one word: "Jettison. " Roger
that! A nanosecond later, my two drops and single MER - about 4500
pounds in all - are Black Pacific bound. The airplane leapt up a bit,
but not enough.
I'm now about a mile in front of the boat at 160 feet and fluctuating
from 135 to 140 knots. The next command out of the ether is another
one-worder: "Eject! "
I'm still flying so I respond, "Not yet, I've still got it. "
Finally, at 4 miles, I take a peek at my engine instruments and notice
my left engine doesn't match the right (funny how quick glimpses at
instruments get burned into your brain). The left rpm is at 48% even
though I'm still doing the Ah-Nold thing. I bring it back to mil.
About now I get another "Eject! " call.
"Nope, still flying. "
Deputy CAG (Carrier Air Group) was watching and the further I got from
the boat, the lower I looked. About 5 miles, I asked tower to please
get the helo headed my way as I truly thought I was going to be
shelling out. At this point I thought it would probably be a good idea
to start dumping some gas. As my hand reached down for the dump switch
I actually remembered that we have a NATOPS prohibition regarding
dumping while in burner. After a second or two I decided, "hell with
that" and turned them on. I was later told I had a 60 foot roman
candle going.
At 7 miles I eventually started a (very slight) climb. A little
breathing room. CATCC chimes in with a downwind heading and I'm like:
"Ooh. Good idea, " and throw down my hook. Eventually I get headed
downwind at 900 feet and ask for a rep. While waiting I shut down the
left engine. In short order I hear "Fuzz's" voice.
I tell him the following: "OK Fuzz, my gear's up, my left motor's off
and I'm only able to stay level with min blower. Every time I pull it
to mil I start about a hundred feet per minute down."
I continue trucking downwind trying to stay level and keep dumping. I
think I must have been in blower for about fifteen minutes. At ten
miles or so I'm down to 5000 pounds of gas and start a turn back
toward the ship. Don't intend to land, but don't want to ge t too far
away, either. Of course, as soon I as I start in an angle of bank, I
start dropping like a stone so I end up doing a 5 mile circle around
the ship. Meanwhile, Fuzz is reading me the single engine rate-of-
climb numbers from the PCL based on temperature, etc. It doesn't take
us long to figure out that things aren't adding up. So why the hell do
I need blower to stay level!?
By this time I'm talking to Fuzz, (CATCC), Deputy CAG (turning on the
flight deck) and CAG who's on the bridge with the Captain. We decide
that the thing to do is climb to three thousand feet and dirty up. I
get headed downwind, go full burner on my remaining motor and
eventually make it to 2000 feet before leveling out below a scattered
layer of puffies. There's a half a moon above which was really, really
cool. Start a turn back toward the ship, and when I get pointed in the
right direction, I throw the gear down and pull the throttle out of
AB. Remember that flash/boom! that started this little tale? Repeat it
here. Holy ****! I jam it back into AB and after three or four huge
compressor stalls and accompanying decelleration, the right motor
comes back.
This next part is great. You know those stories about guys who dead-
stick crippled airplanes away from orphanages and puppy stores and
stuff and get all this great media attention? Well, at this point I'm
looking at the picket ship at my 11 o'clock at about two miles and I
say on departure freq to no one in particular, "You need to have the
picket ship hang a left right now. I think I'm gonna be outta here in
a second. " I said it very calmly but with meaning. The LSO's said
that the picket immediately started pitching out of the fight. Ha! I
scored major points with the heavies afterwards for this. Anyway, it's
funny how your mind works in these situations.
OK, so I'm dirty and I get it back level and pass a couple miles up
the starboard side of the ship. I'm still in minimum blower and my
fuel state is now about 2500 pounds. Hmmm. I hadn't really thought
about running out of gas. I muster up the nads to pull it out of
blower again and sure enough... flash, BOOM! Damn!
I leave it in military and it seems to settle out. Eventually, I
discover that even the tiniest throttle movements cause the flash/boom
thing to happen so I'm trying to be as smooth as I can. I'm downwind a
couple miles when CAG comes up and says "Oyster, we're going to rig
the barricade. "
Remember, CAG's up on the bridge watching me fly around doing blower
donuts in the sky and he's thinking I'm gonna run outta JP-5 too. By
now I've told everyone who's listening that there a better than
average chance that I'm going to be ejecting - the helo bubbas, god
bless 'em, have been following me around this entire time.
I continue downwind and again, sounding more calm than I probably was,
call paddles. "Paddles, you up? "
"Go ahead" replies "Max, " one of our CAG LSO's.
"Max, I probably know most of it but you wanna shoot me the barricade
brief? " (Insert long pause here). After the fact, Max told me they
went from expecting me to eject to me asking for the barricade brief
in about a minute and he was hyper-ventilating. He was awesome on the
radio though, just the kind of voice you'd want to hear in this
situation. He gives me the brief and at nine miles I say, "If I turn
now, will it be up when I get there? I don't want to have to go around
again. "
"It's going up now Oyster, go ahead and turn. "
"Turning in, say final bearing. "
"Zero-six-three" replies the voice in CATCC. (Another number I
remember - go figure).
OK, we're on a four degree glide slope and I'm at 800 feet or so. I
intercept glide slope at about a mile and three quarters and pull
power. Flash/ boom! Add power out of fear. Going high. Pull power.
Flash/boom! Add power out of fear. Going higher. (Flashback to LSO
school.... All right class, today's lecture will be on the single
engine barricade approach. Remember, the one place you really, REALLY
don't want to be is high. Are there any questions? ) The PLAT video is
most excellent as each series of flash/booms shows up nicely along
with the appropriate reflections on the water. "Flats, " our other CAG
paddles is backing up and as I start to set up a higher than desired
sink rate he hits the "Eat At Joe's" lights. Very timely too. [note:
wave-off lights - a guts-ball decision]
I stroke AB and cross the flight deck with my right hand on the stick
and my left thinking about the little yellow and black handle between
my legs. No worries. I cleared that sucker by at least ten feet. By
the way my state at the ball call was 1.1. As I slowly climb out I
say, again to no one in particular, "I can do this. "
Max and Flats heard this and told me later it made them feel much
better about my state of mind. I'm in blower still and CAG says, "Turn
downwind. " Again, good idea. After I get turned around he says,
"Oyster, this is gonna be your last look, so turn in again as soon as
you're comfortable. " I lose about 200 feet in the turn and like a
total dumb**** I look out as I get on centerline and that night thing
about feeling high gets me and I descend further to 400 feet. I got
kinda ****ed at myself then as I realized I would now be intercepting
the four degree glide slope in the middle.
No **** fellas, flash/boom every several seconds all the way down.
Last look at my gas was 600-and-some pounds at a mile and a half.
"Where am I on the glideslope Max? " I ask ask and hear a calm, "Roger
Ball. "
I know I'm low because the ILS is waaay up there and I call "Clara. "
Can't remember what the response was b ut by now the ball's shooting
up from the depths. I start flying it and before I get a chance to
spot the deck. I hear "Cut, cut, cut! " I'm really glad I was a
paddles for so long because my mind said to me, "Do what he says,
Oyster, " and I pulled it back to idle. The reason I mention this is
that I felt like I was a LONG FRIGGEN WAYS OUT THERE - if you know
what I mean (my hook hit 11 paces from the ramp, as I discovered
during FOD walkdown today).
The rest is pretty tame. I hit the deck, skipped the one, the two, and
snagged the three and rolled into the barricade about a foot right of
centerline. Once stopped my vocal chords involuntarily yelled
"Victory! " on button 2 (the 14 guys who were listening in marshal
said it was pretty cool. After the fact I wish I had done the Austin
Powers' "Yeah Baby! " thing. ) The lights came up and off to my right
there must have been a ga-zillion cranials. Paddles said that with my
shutdown you could hear a huge cheer across the flight deck. I open
the canopy and start putting my **** in my helmet bag and the first
guy I see is our Flight Deck Chief, huge guy named Chief Richards and
he gives me the coolest look and then two thumbs up. I will remember
it forever. Especially since I'm the Maintenance Officer. I climb down
and people are gathering around patting me on the back when one of the
boat's crusty yellow-shirt chiefs interrupts and says, "Gentlemen,
great job but fourteen of your good buddies are still up there and we
need to get them aboard. " Again, priceless.
So there you have it fellas. Here I sit with my little pink body in a
ready room chair on the same tub I did my first cruise in 10 years
and 7 months ago. And I thought it was exciting back then!
P. S. You're probably wondering what made my motors **** themselves
and I almost forgot to tell you. Remember the scene with the
foreboding music? When they taxied that last Hornet - the one that was
over the cat track - they forgot to remove a section or two of the cat
seal. The [flight mishap] board's not finished yet, but it's a done
deal. As the shuttle came back it removed the cat seal which went down
both motors during the stroke. During the wave off, one of the LSO's
saw "about thirty feet" of black rubber hanging off the left side of
the airplane. The whole left side, including inside the intake is
basically black where the rubber was beating on it in the breeze. The
right motor, the one that kept running, has 340 major hits to all
stages. The compressor section is trashed and best of all, it had two
pieces of the cat seal -one about 2 feet and the other about 4 feet
long, sticking out of the first stage and into the intake. God Bless
General Electric!
P. P.S. By the way, the data showed that I was fat - had 380 pounds of
gas when I shut down. Again, remember this n umber as in ten years it
will surely be claiming, FUMES MAN, FUMES I TELL YOU!
Oyster out... - - - - This is a good story that describes what most of
us don't see/hear about from those out there on the pointy tip of the
spear. Sleep well at night because the good guys are out there keeping
things safe for us here at home. EarthLink Revolves Around You.
F18 NIGHT CARRIER EMERGENCY
Hey, I felt the need to share with you all the exciting night I had on
the 23rd. It has nothing to do with me wanting to talk about me. It
has everything to do with sharing what will no doubt become a better
story as the years go by.
So, there I was... Manned up a hot seat for the 2030 launch about 500
miles north of Hawaii (insert visions of many Mai-Tais here). Spotted
just forward of the navigation pole and eventually taxied off toward
the island where I do a 180 and get spotted to be the first one off
cat I (insert foreboding music here). There's another Hornet from our
sister squadron parked ass over the track about a quarter of the way
down the cat. Eventually he gets a move on and they lower my launch
bar and start the launch cycle.
All systems are go on the run-up and after waiting the requisite 5-
seconds or so to make sure my flight controls are good to go (there 's
a lot to be said for good old cables and pulleys), I turn on my
lights. As is my habit, I shift my eyes to the catwalk and watch the
deck edge dude, and as he starts his routine of looking left then
right, I put my head back. As the cat fires, I stage the blowers and
am along for the ride.
Just prior to the end of the stroke there's a huge flash and a
simultaneous boom and my world is in turmoil. My little pink body is
doing 145 knots or so and is 100 feet above the Black Pacific. And
there it stays - except for the airspeed, which decreases to 140
knots. The throttles aren't going any farther forward despite my
Schwarzzenegerian efforts to make them do so.
>From out of the ether I hear a voice say one word: "Jettison. " Roger
that! A nanosecond later, my two drops and single MER - about 4500
pounds in all - are Black Pacific bound. The airplane leapt up a bit,
but not enough.
I'm now about a mile in front of the boat at 160 feet and fluctuating
from 135 to 140 knots. The next command out of the ether is another
one-worder: "Eject! "
I'm still flying so I respond, "Not yet, I've still got it. "
Finally, at 4 miles, I take a peek at my engine instruments and notice
my left engine doesn't match the right (funny how quick glimpses at
instruments get burned into your brain). The left rpm is at 48% even
though I'm still doing the Ah-Nold thing. I bring it back to mil.
About now I get another "Eject! " call.
"Nope, still flying. "
Deputy CAG (Carrier Air Group) was watching and the further I got from
the boat, the lower I looked. About 5 miles, I asked tower to please
get the helo headed my way as I truly thought I was going to be
shelling out. At this point I thought it would probably be a good idea
to start dumping some gas. As my hand reached down for the dump switch
I actually remembered that we have a NATOPS prohibition regarding
dumping while in burner. After a second or two I decided, "hell with
that" and turned them on. I was later told I had a 60 foot roman
candle going.
At 7 miles I eventually started a (very slight) climb. A little
breathing room. CATCC chimes in with a downwind heading and I'm like:
"Ooh. Good idea, " and throw down my hook. Eventually I get headed
downwind at 900 feet and ask for a rep. While waiting I shut down the
left engine. In short order I hear "Fuzz's" voice.
I tell him the following: "OK Fuzz, my gear's up, my left motor's off
and I'm only able to stay level with min blower. Every time I pull it
to mil I start about a hundred feet per minute down."
I continue trucking downwind trying to stay level and keep dumping. I
think I must have been in blower for about fifteen minutes. At ten
miles or so I'm down to 5000 pounds of gas and start a turn back
toward the ship. Don't intend to land, but don't want to ge t too far
away, either. Of course, as soon I as I start in an angle of bank, I
start dropping like a stone so I end up doing a 5 mile circle around
the ship. Meanwhile, Fuzz is reading me the single engine rate-of-
climb numbers from the PCL based on temperature, etc. It doesn't take
us long to figure out that things aren't adding up. So why the hell do
I need blower to stay level!?
By this time I'm talking to Fuzz, (CATCC), Deputy CAG (turning on the
flight deck) and CAG who's on the bridge with the Captain. We decide
that the thing to do is climb to three thousand feet and dirty up. I
get headed downwind, go full burner on my remaining motor and
eventually make it to 2000 feet before leveling out below a scattered
layer of puffies. There's a half a moon above which was really, really
cool. Start a turn back toward the ship, and when I get pointed in the
right direction, I throw the gear down and pull the throttle out of
AB. Remember that flash/boom! that started this little tale? Repeat it
here. Holy ****! I jam it back into AB and after three or four huge
compressor stalls and accompanying decelleration, the right motor
comes back.
This next part is great. You know those stories about guys who dead-
stick crippled airplanes away from orphanages and puppy stores and
stuff and get all this great media attention? Well, at this point I'm
looking at the picket ship at my 11 o'clock at about two miles and I
say on departure freq to no one in particular, "You need to have the
picket ship hang a left right now. I think I'm gonna be outta here in
a second. " I said it very calmly but with meaning. The LSO's said
that the picket immediately started pitching out of the fight. Ha! I
scored major points with the heavies afterwards for this. Anyway, it's
funny how your mind works in these situations.
OK, so I'm dirty and I get it back level and pass a couple miles up
the starboard side of the ship. I'm still in minimum blower and my
fuel state is now about 2500 pounds. Hmmm. I hadn't really thought
about running out of gas. I muster up the nads to pull it out of
blower again and sure enough... flash, BOOM! Damn!
I leave it in military and it seems to settle out. Eventually, I
discover that even the tiniest throttle movements cause the flash/boom
thing to happen so I'm trying to be as smooth as I can. I'm downwind a
couple miles when CAG comes up and says "Oyster, we're going to rig
the barricade. "
Remember, CAG's up on the bridge watching me fly around doing blower
donuts in the sky and he's thinking I'm gonna run outta JP-5 too. By
now I've told everyone who's listening that there a better than
average chance that I'm going to be ejecting - the helo bubbas, god
bless 'em, have been following me around this entire time.
I continue downwind and again, sounding more calm than I probably was,
call paddles. "Paddles, you up? "
"Go ahead" replies "Max, " one of our CAG LSO's.
"Max, I probably know most of it but you wanna shoot me the barricade
brief? " (Insert long pause here). After the fact, Max told me they
went from expecting me to eject to me asking for the barricade brief
in about a minute and he was hyper-ventilating. He was awesome on the
radio though, just the kind of voice you'd want to hear in this
situation. He gives me the brief and at nine miles I say, "If I turn
now, will it be up when I get there? I don't want to have to go around
again. "
"It's going up now Oyster, go ahead and turn. "
"Turning in, say final bearing. "
"Zero-six-three" replies the voice in CATCC. (Another number I
remember - go figure).
OK, we're on a four degree glide slope and I'm at 800 feet or so. I
intercept glide slope at about a mile and three quarters and pull
power. Flash/ boom! Add power out of fear. Going high. Pull power.
Flash/boom! Add power out of fear. Going higher. (Flashback to LSO
school.... All right class, today's lecture will be on the single
engine barricade approach. Remember, the one place you really, REALLY
don't want to be is high. Are there any questions? ) The PLAT video is
most excellent as each series of flash/booms shows up nicely along
with the appropriate reflections on the water. "Flats, " our other CAG
paddles is backing up and as I start to set up a higher than desired
sink rate he hits the "Eat At Joe's" lights. Very timely too. [note:
wave-off lights - a guts-ball decision]
I stroke AB and cross the flight deck with my right hand on the stick
and my left thinking about the little yellow and black handle between
my legs. No worries. I cleared that sucker by at least ten feet. By
the way my state at the ball call was 1.1. As I slowly climb out I
say, again to no one in particular, "I can do this. "
Max and Flats heard this and told me later it made them feel much
better about my state of mind. I'm in blower still and CAG says, "Turn
downwind. " Again, good idea. After I get turned around he says,
"Oyster, this is gonna be your last look, so turn in again as soon as
you're comfortable. " I lose about 200 feet in the turn and like a
total dumb**** I look out as I get on centerline and that night thing
about feeling high gets me and I descend further to 400 feet. I got
kinda ****ed at myself then as I realized I would now be intercepting
the four degree glide slope in the middle.
No **** fellas, flash/boom every several seconds all the way down.
Last look at my gas was 600-and-some pounds at a mile and a half.
"Where am I on the glideslope Max? " I ask ask and hear a calm, "Roger
Ball. "
I know I'm low because the ILS is waaay up there and I call "Clara. "
Can't remember what the response was b ut by now the ball's shooting
up from the depths. I start flying it and before I get a chance to
spot the deck. I hear "Cut, cut, cut! " I'm really glad I was a
paddles for so long because my mind said to me, "Do what he says,
Oyster, " and I pulled it back to idle. The reason I mention this is
that I felt like I was a LONG FRIGGEN WAYS OUT THERE - if you know
what I mean (my hook hit 11 paces from the ramp, as I discovered
during FOD walkdown today).
The rest is pretty tame. I hit the deck, skipped the one, the two, and
snagged the three and rolled into the barricade about a foot right of
centerline. Once stopped my vocal chords involuntarily yelled
"Victory! " on button 2 (the 14 guys who were listening in marshal
said it was pretty cool. After the fact I wish I had done the Austin
Powers' "Yeah Baby! " thing. ) The lights came up and off to my right
there must have been a ga-zillion cranials. Paddles said that with my
shutdown you could hear a huge cheer across the flight deck. I open
the canopy and start putting my **** in my helmet bag and the first
guy I see is our Flight Deck Chief, huge guy named Chief Richards and
he gives me the coolest look and then two thumbs up. I will remember
it forever. Especially since I'm the Maintenance Officer. I climb down
and people are gathering around patting me on the back when one of the
boat's crusty yellow-shirt chiefs interrupts and says, "Gentlemen,
great job but fourteen of your good buddies are still up there and we
need to get them aboard. " Again, priceless.
So there you have it fellas. Here I sit with my little pink body in a
ready room chair on the same tub I did my first cruise in 10 years
and 7 months ago. And I thought it was exciting back then!
P. S. You're probably wondering what made my motors **** themselves
and I almost forgot to tell you. Remember the scene with the
foreboding music? When they taxied that last Hornet - the one that was
over the cat track - they forgot to remove a section or two of the cat
seal. The [flight mishap] board's not finished yet, but it's a done
deal. As the shuttle came back it removed the cat seal which went down
both motors during the stroke. During the wave off, one of the LSO's
saw "about thirty feet" of black rubber hanging off the left side of
the airplane. The whole left side, including inside the intake is
basically black where the rubber was beating on it in the breeze. The
right motor, the one that kept running, has 340 major hits to all
stages. The compressor section is trashed and best of all, it had two
pieces of the cat seal -one about 2 feet and the other about 4 feet
long, sticking out of the first stage and into the intake. God Bless
General Electric!
P. P.S. By the way, the data showed that I was fat - had 380 pounds of
gas when I shut down. Again, remember this n umber as in ten years it
will surely be claiming, FUMES MAN, FUMES I TELL YOU!
Oyster out... - - - - This is a good story that describes what most of
us don't see/hear about from those out there on the pointy tip of the
spear. Sleep well at night because the good guys are out there keeping
things safe for us here at home. EarthLink Revolves Around You.