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#1
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Fav CAG story (was US Navy nose cone colours?)
Chimp Head? I'm dying over here.
I remember one "fly off from hell" - one of the Turkeys was hard down the whole cruise. No wait, that was nearly ALL of them... At any rate, one of them had become a picked over shell, nearly picked clean by maint piranhas, with the assumption that it would be craned off if we were ever allowed to return to port. Boss and CAG decided that the thing needed to prove it could fly, and they directed the VF squadron that owned what was left (Bureau number and a pile of parts in the general shape of an F-14A) to make that thing a "flyer", at least to get it off the boat. Pour Mil-L-23699 in the top, watch where it pours out the bottom and go find the missing fitting, etc., for two weeks solid. Electronics? "Hell, boy, its going to be a day launch with plenty of comp'ny - yarn't going to need any navigation!" So flyoff day came, and a whole lot of nervous folks waited to see the hemorraging flying ICU patient go "splash" off the cat. Lots of extra cameras on deck for that launch. Prior to engine runup, sitting on the cat as the ship pointed its nose at the Virginia coast "right over there", the pilot was given a last warning to "just fly it straight - we're lined up on Oceana!" - then the oil bowser was disconnected (quite necessary as there was still plenty dribbling out the bottom) and everyone got their cameras ready. Whoosh - down the cat track and off into air. Drifting lower, but no apparent fire...yet. The F-14, lagging far behind its mates, made a straight line run to Oceana and a nice long rest at NARF. We were all DAMN surprised that thing didn't skip its way to shore like a stone. A grape next to me asked, "I thought that thing was supposed to crash?" "Accidents happen, bud: it 'accidentally' didn't crash." I always wondered who got the short straw and flew it ashore - I bet his memories of that flyoff include some colorful language cornerning our chimpheaded friend! v/r Gordon |
#2
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"Gordon" wrote in message ... SNIP! for shortness Whoosh - down the cat track and off into air. Drifting lower, but no apparent fire...yet. The F-14, lagging far behind its mates, made a straight line run to Oceana and a nice long rest at NARF. We were all DAMN surprised that thing didn't skip its way to shore like a stone. A grape next to me asked, "I thought that thing was supposed to crash?" "Accidents happen, bud: it 'accidentally' didn't crash." I always wondered who got the short straw and flew it ashore - I bet his memories of that flyoff include some colorful language cornerning our chimpheaded friend! v/r Gordon The lucky guy is usually the Squadron Maintenance Officer or the Assistance Maintenance Officer. One of the perks of the job. }:-( A little off the subject , but I learned that it was best to rotate the hanger queens every 30 days or less. This made it harder for the higher ups to tell that you had a hanger queen, kept the readiness numbers up and the exception numbers down. Of course everyone knew what you were doing, but it also help keep the CO off you A$$ so you could get some work done. Where it really got rough were for the guys with a detachment, and didn't have enough aircraft for a hanger queen. A good MaintO was never the last person to fly an aircraft. :-) Red Rider |
#3
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snip latest
I just unplugged from the ICS and waited in back until the dust settled and snuck down below, real quick. Valor and descretion and all that - sure - I understand. One of the shortest flights I'd had in the hummer, including a few airborne aborts, as we went straight into Oceana -- where we had a birdstrike on landing and blew a tire on rollout, in the middle of the active runway, of course .... "Four fingers of tequila in a dirty glass. Stat." and then my fiance left me cooling my heels as she thought I was coming in w/the ship up in Norfolk :/ Man do I appreciate cell phones today... Could do like my pal Mikoyan and I and just use PRC-90s to discuss our next inport plans as our ships passed...? No, wait.. as I recall, that didn't turn out too well.... Of course I didn't learn my lesson and continued as Stunt Mole for the reminder of a colorful career (umm, try an E-2C DACM vs. an F-16 at Key West and night traps in a Whale, in back) No sir, I will not. As Winnie used to say, "NEVAH!" I have one bad long memory that starred a Whale and you couldn't even get me in one for a tour. I have to admit, it sounds as if you were every bit as much the flight hog as I was in the Seasnakes. 660 SH-2F hours and 28 H-3 flight hours in one year - I couldn't believe the Navy paid me to ride in the doorway of heloes, sorta like a drunk being hired as a professional liquor taster. In fact, in same cases, it was EXACTLY like that. I only miss it on days that end in the letter "Y". v/r Gordon ====(A+C==== USN SAR Aircrew "Got anything on your radar, SENSO?" "Nothing but my forehead, sir." |
#4
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The lucky guy is usually the Squadron Maintenance Officer or the Assistance
Maintenance Officer. One of the perks of the job. ouch. A little off the subject , but I learned that it was best to rotate the hanger queens every 30 days or less. This made it harder for the higher ups to tell that you had a hanger queen, kept the readiness numbers up and the exception numbers down. I had less trouble with aircraft in this category than the often volitile "just back from rework" birds. I trust a bunch of overworked homesick 20 year olds a lot more than the contractor guys -- I had several attempts against my life made by aircraft in this second category. Still, I guess everyone looks at hangar queens the same way - "I wonder what they missed...?" Where it really got rough were for the guys with a detachment, and didn't have enough aircraft for a hanger queen. Agree - on H-2s, we had nine maintainers plus four pilots and a Chief, responsible for every concievable evolution. None of the H-2 squadrons had the luxury of a hangar queen, primarily because if we were down for maint, the ship's whole "air wing" was down, often bringing visits from the CO or OPS boss, trying to get the repairs expedited. Nothing like personalized service - if we lost an engine, the ship was often trying to get us a replacement practically before we landed. Perks of carrying the mail, Miss America, etc. out to other ships; our skipper wanted that "damn'd H-tooo" in the air at all times. Worked out great for us! v/r Gordon |
#5
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(Gordon) wrote in message
Could do like my pal Mikoyan and I and just use PRC-90s to discuss our next inport plans as our ships passed...? No, wait.. as I recall, that didn't turn out too well.... C'mon buddy, let's be a little more specific. It turned out well in that the PRC-90's worked as advertised. We were able to have an approximately 2 minute conversation (via 282.8 (didn't want to tell the whole world listening in on 243.0)) where we learned that you would return to land two days ahead of me. About the time fear and common sense kicked in (and we ceased comms) is about the time our respective Det Chiefs got ahold of us. THEN it didn't turn out too well..... Mike (Mikoyan) AW HSL-33 '83 - '86 |
#6
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I had less trouble with aircraft in this category than the often volitile
"just back from rework" birds. I trust a bunch of overworked homesick 20 year olds a lot more than the contractor guys -- I had several attempts against my life made by aircraft in this second category. Ditto that. Dave Cohen's and my little 1973 episode (a cat-stroke induced loose VDI in a KA-6D cockpit - Hello!) was the direct result of the "great" QC work by the Charger Blue weenies on the beach at Cubi. PAR = "Paint And Return" (Originally: "Progressive Aircraft Rework"). g Owl sends. -- Mike Kanze "I never hated a man enough to give his diamonds back." - Zsa Zsa Gabor "Gordon" wrote in message ... [rest snipped] |
#7
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I'd been flying about 24 years - all fighters - when I and my student
had to eject from an F4E - fuel starvation. The bird had 3000 pounds left and a big wad of rolled up typhoon tape (charred, but found in the wreckage) blocked the transfer port between #2 and #1 fuselage fuel cells. Another instance of McD's uninspired design - the fuel probe and low level float is in cell 2 so neither worked as cell 2 stayed full while #1 ran dry. Someone at Hill AFB IRAN had left the thing in there fifteen (15!) months prior when they were doing a modification. Of course they denied everything and said it must have happened after they OK'd the airplane. But since getting into the fuselage cells requires opening up the fuselage (no access panels at all) we all said 'yeah, right!' Walt BJ |
#8
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Walt, that mirrors my experiences with those dang PAR nightmares. I know I've
posted this before, but here is my old story about the H-2 from hell - Copyright Zero Five -- For training in the SeaSprite helicopter, I was assigned to a Replacement Training squadron called the Archangels at Naval Air Station North Island. This unit had a compliment of 8-10 tired old helicopters, at least one of which assembled from the pieces of two destroyed airframes. Every aircraft assumes at least some personality, either good, bad, or just odd. In given instances, aircraft will either rise to the occasion, or let you down - but the outcome was usually blamed on the lifeless aluminum kite as if it actually breathed or erred. I used to wonder what possessed one bird, while I felt perfectly safe flying in another. Sometimes, there was just no question. The radio callsign for Archangel helicopters was "Copyright", and each helo had a corresponding side number from 00 to 14, with gaps in the series of numbers. Aircraft 00 was called 'Double Nuts', but the rest of them went by Copyright Zero One, Zero Two, etc. I had no problems with any of the squadron's beat up old hacks, with the exception of Copyright Zero Five. Our heloes were old (well, older than myself at any rate), and after a tour with a Sea-Duty squadron, they return to the States for extensive rework. Unfortunately, to those of us who fly in them, it often appears that 'extensive rework' is limited to three layers of thick paint, hiding a multitude of evils. We actually had to dig through paint to find the rivets that had been entirely concealed during such repairs. We eyed all 'reworked' birds with a suspicious glare. Zero Five came to us after an extended tour with a squadron stationed in Barbers Point, Hawaii. It had made several cruises aboard Destroyers and Frigates from Pearl Harbor and was long overdue when it finally returned to San Diego. It showed up in the Archangel hangar looking like a 50-year old hooker with several hundred pounds of paint substituting for makeup. After two acceptance flights, the helicopter was released for duty and rolled out to the Flight Line. We were the Hot Seat Crew for that first flight: the other crew comes in early, preflights, and then flies 2.5 hours before turning it over to us. When they return, we slide into their seats while the helo idles with its rotors spinning overhead. The only real look a Hot Seat Crew gets is at the aircraft's discrepancy book which contains any problems noted within the last ten flights. Everyone else in the entire Navy waited until after the crew briefing to check the book -- I didn't, because that book told me what equipment was working and what wasn't. It seemed silly to me to brief for a submarine-hunt or Radar flight when the Maintenance department had removed that gear for repair, but it was a common, wasteful practice. Zero Five's book was ominous, even closed. At least twice as thick as the other discrepancy books, many of the gripes were the dangerous repeat variety. From behind, the approaching pilot asked my opinion of our "Trusty Steed". "Sir, this thing is a Steel Grave!", which was probably the wrong thing to say to the Squadron Maint Officer. Judging by the ass chewing, you would think my unfortunate reply had included a reference to his mother. After a rather dry crew brief (lots of glaring), we stood widely apart on the Flight Line, waiting for the familiar smoking dot on the horizon. Many other squadron aircraft were noisily coming and going and we waited our turn in silence. Of the 30-odd helicopters on the line, half were running their engines, adding to the din. Right on schedule at 1120, Zero Five arrived over the airfield. The MO gave me a dagger look, and strapped on his helmet. However, instead of landing in front of the Squadron, the helicopter slowly motored down to the end of Runway One Eight, losing altitude and smoking more than usual. At the far end of the runway other folks were also waiting for Zero Five's arrival. They waited in fire trucks and rescue equipment. For a moment, the aging helo held its hover, then gingerly landed amidst the Crash Crew. I popped the snaps on my helmet, and whistled my way back to the hangar. Due to unusual circumstances, Zero Five had completed what was intended to be an aerial maneuver by slamming into the ground at one of our practice airfields. Autorotations* normally end at 40'; sometimes, we go ahead and land lightly. This time, the chopper fell the last 40 feet and bounced back ten feet in the air! NOT good. The crew made a cursory inspection and somehow decided it was safe to fly back home! Amazing to me. The tailwheel had been jammed several feet up inside the helo's butt and the entire fuselage looked like a warped washboard. Many of the electronics were permanently wrecked and repairs were needed almost throughout the airframe. Soooo, no flying for us that day. I must say, I felt it was more than a coincidence that, months later, my next acceptance flight was for Copyright Zero Five... after it returned from 'extensive rework'! * Autorotation - the act of disconnecting the engines from the rotors to allow a falling helicopter to spin its rotors enough to act as an air-brake. It works, actually. We defined it as "a method of keeping a pilot's hands and feet occupied as he plummets to his death". postscript: This airframe was later destroyed without fatalities. As a short aside, the pilot involved was Ensign Mark Cooper. During primary flight training at Pensacola, he trashed another helicopter, bad enough to twist the rotor head off the TH-57. While we were stationed together, he totaled two cars and eventually crashed an H-2 into the sea during a night takeoff. He killed himself and his co-pilot, Lt Glenn Miller. By sheer luck, the crewman awoke in the desintegrating wreckage and managed to swim free. 8/17/84 That lucky crewman, AW2 Scott Montgomery, retired recently as a Senior Chief Petty Officer after a long and interesting career. v/r Gordon ====(A+C==== USN SAR Aircrew "Got anything on your radar, SENSO?" "Nothing but my forehead, sir." |
#9
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at least one of which assembled from the pieces of two destroyed airframes.
How difficult was it to "assign" a BuNo to such a hybrid? We actually had to dig through paint to find the rivets that had been entirely concealed during such repairs. If the paint is what's holding it together, why bother? g Owl sends. -- Mike Kanze "I never hated a man enough to give his diamonds back." - Zsa Zsa Gabor "Gordon" wrote in message ... Walt, that mirrors my experiences with those dang PAR nightmares. I know I've posted this before, but here is my old story about the H-2 from hell - Copyright Zero Five -- For training in the SeaSprite helicopter, I was assigned to a Replacement Training squadron called the Archangels at Naval Air Station North Island. This unit had a compliment of 8-10 tired old helicopters, at least one of which assembled from the pieces of two destroyed airframes. Every aircraft assumes at least some personality, either good, bad, or just odd. In given instances, aircraft will either rise to the occasion, or let you down - but the outcome was usually blamed on the lifeless aluminum kite as if it actually breathed or erred. I used to wonder what possessed one bird, while I felt perfectly safe flying in another. Sometimes, there was just no question. The radio callsign for Archangel helicopters was "Copyright", and each helo had a corresponding side number from 00 to 14, with gaps in the series of numbers. Aircraft 00 was called 'Double Nuts', but the rest of them went by Copyright Zero One, Zero Two, etc. I had no problems with any of the squadron's beat up old hacks, with the exception of Copyright Zero Five. Our heloes were old (well, older than myself at any rate), and after a tour with a Sea-Duty squadron, they return to the States for extensive rework. Unfortunately, to those of us who fly in them, it often appears that 'extensive rework' is limited to three layers of thick paint, hiding a multitude of evils. We actually had to dig through paint to find the rivets that had been entirely concealed during such repairs. We eyed all 'reworked' birds with a suspicious glare. Zero Five came to us after an extended tour with a squadron stationed in Barbers Point, Hawaii. It had made several cruises aboard Destroyers and Frigates from Pearl Harbor and was long overdue when it finally returned to San Diego. It showed up in the Archangel hangar looking like a 50-year old hooker with several hundred pounds of paint substituting for makeup. After two acceptance flights, the helicopter was released for duty and rolled out to the Flight Line. We were the Hot Seat Crew for that first flight: the other crew comes in early, preflights, and then flies 2.5 hours before turning it over to us. When they return, we slide into their seats while the helo idles with its rotors spinning overhead. The only real look a Hot Seat Crew gets is at the aircraft's discrepancy book which contains any problems noted within the last ten flights. Everyone else in the entire Navy waited until after the crew briefing to check the ook -- I didn't, because that book told me what equipment was working and what wasn't. It seemed silly to me to brief for a submarine-hunt or Radar flight when the Maintenance department had removed that gear for repair, but it was a common, wasteful practice. Zero Five's book was ominous, even closed. At least twice as thick as the other discrepancy books, many of the gripes were the dangerous repeat variety. From behind, the approaching pilot asked my opinion of our "Trusty Steed". "Sir, this thing is a Steel Grave!", which was probably the wrong thing to say to the Squadron Maint Officer. Judging by the ass chewing, you would think my unfortunate reply had included a reference to his mother. After a rather dry crew brief (lots of glaring), we stood widely apart on the Flight Line, waiting for the familiar smoking dot on the horizon. Many other squadron aircraft were noisily coming and going and we waited our turn in silence. Of the 30-odd helicopters on the line, half were running their engines, adding to the din. Right on schedule at 1120, Zero Five arrived over the airfield. The MO gave me a dagger look, and strapped on his helmet. However, instead of landing in front of the Squadron, the helicopter slowly motored down to the end of Runway One Eight, losing altitude and smoking more than usual. At the far end of the runway other folks were also waiting for Zero Five's arrival. They waited in fire trucks and rescue equipment. For a moment, the aging helo held its hover, then gingerly landed amidst the Crash Crew. I popped the snaps on my helmet, and whistled my way back to the hangar. Due to unusual circumstances, Zero Five had completed what was intended to be an aerial maneuver by slamming into the ground at one of our practice airfields. Autorotations* normally end at 40'; sometimes, we go ahead and land lightly. This time, the chopper fell the last 40 feet and bounced back ten feet in the air! NOT good. The crew made a cursory inspection and somehow decided it was safe to fly back home! Amazing to me. The tailwheel had been jammed several feet up inside the helo's butt and the entire fuselage looked like a warped washboard. Many of the electronics were permanently wrecked and repairs were needed almost throughout the airframe. Soooo, no flying for us that day. I must say, I felt it was more than a coincidence that, months later, my next acceptance flight was for Copyright Zero Five... after it returned from 'extensive rework'! * Autorotation - the act of disconnecting the engines from the rotors to allow a falling helicopter to spin its rotors enough to act as an air-brake. It works, actually. We defined it as "a method of keeping a pilot's hands and feet occupied as he plummets to his death". postscript: This airframe was later destroyed without fatalities. As a short aside, the pilot involved was Ensign Mark Cooper. During primary flight training at Pensacola, he trashed another helicopter, bad enough to twist the rotor head off the TH-57. While we were stationed together, he totaled two cars and eventually crashed an H-2 into the sea during a night takeoff. He killed himself and his co-pilot, Lt Glenn Miller. By sheer luck, the crewman awoke in the desintegrating wreckage and managed to swim free. 8/17/84 That lucky crewman, AW2 Scott Montgomery, retired recently as a Senior Chief Petty Officer after a long and interesting career. v/r Gordon ====(A+C==== USN SAR Aircrew "Got anything on your radar, SENSO?" "Nothing but my forehead, sir." |
#10
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at least one of which assembled from the pieces of two destroyed airframes. How difficult was it to "assign" a BuNo to such a hybrid? In both the H-3 and H-2 instances that I am aware of this happening, one of the two aircraft was listed as substantially damaged, the other CAT A, so the CAT A aircraft ceased to exist (so I was told). At one time, I guess there were a lot of half-destroyed H-2s laying around (gee, imagine that), so the Kaman guys in the unused HSL hangar... well, honestly, I haven't a clue HOW such a mating occurs. Under the light of a full moon, during a three weekend payday cycle, the witches of Kaman gather cackle We actually had to dig through paint to find the rivets that had been entirely concealed during such repairs. If the paint is what's holding it together, why bother? g Call it professional curiosity. v/r Gordon |
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