[BITList] Amazing Luck!

[John Feltham]

> Look at the pictures . . . then . . . read the story.

>
>
>
>
>
>  So much for the thought of a boring refueling mission!
>
>  Lieutenant Keith Gallagher's Account:
>  On my 26th birthday, I was blindsided by a piece of bad luck the  
> size of Texas that should have killed me. Luckily, it was followed  
> immediately by a whole slew of miracles that allowed me to be around  
> for my 27th! Not even Murphy of Murphy's Law could have conceived of  
> such a bizarre accident!
>
> On the open sea, a third of the way through our cruise, we had the  
> duties on an overhead tanker, making circles in the sky. Although  
> the pattern can be pretty boring, we were alert and maintaining a  
> good lookout doctrine because our air wing had a midair collision  
> less than a week before, and we did not want to have a repeat.
>
> We felt we were ready for 'any' emergency: fire warning lights,  
> hydraulic failures and fuel transfer problems. Bring 'em on!  We  
> were ready for them. After all, how much trouble can two airplanes  
> get into . . while overhead the ship?
>
> After my third fuel update call, we decided that the left outboard  
> drop tank was going to require a little help in order to transfer.   
> NATOPS recommends applying positive and negative G to force the  
> faulty valve open. As the pilot pulled the stick back, I wondered  
> how many times we would have to 'porpoise' the nose of the plane  
> before the valve opened. As he moved the stick forward, I felt the  
> familiar sensation of negative "G" . . and then something strange  
> happened: my head bumped the canopy.
>
> For a brief moment, I thought that I had failed to tighten my lap  
> belts, but I knew that wasn't true. Before I could complete that  
> thought, there was a loud bang, followed by wind, noise,  
> disorientation and more wind, wind, wind!! Confusion reigned in my  
> mind as I was forced back against my seat, head against the  
> headrest, arms out behind me, the wind roaring in my head, pounding  
> against my body. "Did the canopy blow off? Did I eject? Did my  
> windscreen implode?" All of these questions occurred to me amidst  
> the pandemonium in my mind and over my body.
>
> These questions were quickly answered, and replaced by a thousand  
> more, as I looked down and saw a sight that I will never forget: the  
> top of the canopy, close enough to touch, and down through the  
> canopy I could see the top of my pilot's helmet. It took a few  
> moments for this image to sink into my suddenly overloaded brain.  
> This was worse than I ever could have imagined - I was sitting on  
> top of a flying A-6!
>
> Pain, confusion, panic, fear and denial surged through my brain and  
> body as a new development occurred to me: I COULDN'T BREATHE !  My  
> helmet and mask had ripped off my head, and without them, the full  
> force of the wind was hitting me square in the face. It was like  
> trying to drink from a high pressure fire hose. I couldn't seem to  
> get a breath of air amidst the wind. My arms were dragging along  
> behind me until I managed to pull both of them into my chest and  
> hold them there.
>
> I tried to think for a second as I continued my attempts to breathe.  
> For some reason, it never occurred to me that my pilot would be  
> trying to land. I just never thought about it. I finally decided  
> that the thing that I could do was eject.  I grabbed the lower  
> handle with both hands and pulled. It wouldn't budge. With panic  
> induced strength I tried again, but to no avail. The handle wasn't  
> going to move. I attempted to reach the upper ejection handle, but  
> the wind prevented me from getting a hand on it.
>
> As a matter of fact, all that I could do was hold my arms into my  
> chest. If either of them slid out into the wind stream, they  
> immediately flailed out behind me, and that was definitely not good.  
> The wind had become physically and emotionally overwhelming. It  
> pounded against my face and body like a huge wall of water that  
> wouldn't stop. The roaring in my ears confused me . . wind pressure  
> in my mouth prevented me from breathing, and the pounding on my eyes  
> kept me from seeing. Time had lost all meaning.. For all I knew, I  
> could have been sitting there for seconds or for hours. And I was  
> suffocating, and I couldn't seem to get a breath.
>
> As I felt myself blacking out, I wish I could say that my last  
> thoughts were of my wife, but all I said was, "I don't want to die."
>
> Then someone turned on the lights . . I had a funny view of the  
> front end of an A-6 . . with jagged plexiglas where my half of the  
> canopy was supposed to be. Looking down from the top of the jet, I  
> was surprised to find the plane had stopped on the flight deck with  
> about 100 people staring up at me. (I guess expecting to see the  
> pearly gates and some dead relatives.)
>
> My first thought was that we had never taken off . . that something  
> had happened before the catapult. Then everything came flooding back  
> into my brain, the wind, the noise and the confusion. As my pilot  
> then spoke to me and the medical people swarmed all over me, I  
> realized that I was alive.
>
> Then, I found out how lucky I was. My parachute became entangled in  
> the horizontal stabilizer tight enough to act as a shoulder harness  
> for the landing wire trap . . but not tight enough to bind the  
> flight controls on the tail. If this had not happened, I would have  
> been tossed forward into the jagged plexiglas during the trap.
>
> There are many other things that happened . . or didn't . . that  
> allowed me to survive this mishap. . just inches away from disaster.  
> These little things, and a level headed pilot who reacted quickly  
> and correctly, are the reasons that I am alive and flying today.
>
> Lieutenant Mark Baden's [pilot] account of the incident:
>
> As we finished the brief, my BN (bombardier navigator - Keith  
> Gallagher) told me that it was his birthday and that our recovery  
> would be his 100th trap on the boat. To top it off, we were assigned  
> to my airplane.
>
> As we taxied out of the chocks, I was still feeling a little uneasy  
> about all the recent mishaps that had been happening lately. To make  
> myself feel better, I went through the 'soft catapult shot or engine  
> failure on takeoff' emergency procedures . . touching each switch or  
> lever as I went over the steps. "At least if something happens right  
> off the bat, I'll be ready," I thought.
>
> The first few minutes of the hop were busy. Concentrating on the  
> fuel package-check and consolidation, as well as trying to keep  
> track of my initial re-fueling customers, dispelled my uneasiness.
>
> As we approached the mission's mid-cycle, we kept ourselves occupied  
> with fuel quantity checks. We were particularly keeping a close eye  
> on one drop tank that had quit transferring with about 1,000 pounds  
> of fuel remaining inside. I had tried going to override on its  
> pressurization, but that didn't seem to work. My BN and I discussed  
> the problem and we decided it was probably a stuck float valve.  
> Perhaps some positive then negative G's would fix it.
>
> We were at 8,000 feet, seven miles abeam the ship, heading aft. I  
> clicked the auto altitude hold to OFF, then added some power to  
> allow us a little more G [to play with].
>
> At 230 knots I pulled the stick back and got the plane five degrees  
> nose up. Then, I pushed the stick forward. I got about half a  
> negative G, just enough to float me in the seat. I heard a sharp  
> bang and felt the cockpit instantly depressurize. The roar of the  
> wind followed. I instinctively ducked and looked up expecting the  
> canopy to be partly open.  Instead of seeing a two or three inch  
> gap, the canopy bow was flush with the front of the windscreen. My  
> scan continued right. Instead of meeting my BN's questioning  
> glance . . I saw a pair of legs at my eye level.
>
> The right side of the canopy was shattered. I followed the legs up  
> and saw the rest of my BN's body out in the windblast. I watched as  
> his head snapped down . . then back up, and his helmet and oxygen  
> mask vanished. They didn't seem to fly off . . they just disappeared.
>
> My mind went into fast forward. "What the hell happened ?" I  
> wondered. " I hope he gets ejected all the way out. What am I going  
> to do now? I NEED TO SLOW DOWN ! " I jerked the throttles to idle  
> and started the speed brakes out. Without stopping, I reached up, de- 
> isolated, and threw the landing flap lever to down position. I  
> reached over and grabbed for the IFF selector switch and twisted it  
> to EMERGENCY.  And I was screaming to myself: "Slow down! Slow  
> down!"  I glanced up at the airspeed indicator and gave another pull  
> back on the throttles and [max'd] the speed brakes switch. The  
> airspeed was decreasing through 200 knots. The whole time I was  
> doing everything else, I had been staring back over my shoulder at  
> my bombardier.  I felt a strange combination of fear, helplessness  
> and revulsion as I watched his body slam around in the windblast.
>
> After his helmet flew off, his face now looked like the people who  
> get sucked out into zero atmosphere in some of the more graphic  
> movies.  He fought for his life as his eye lids were blasted open,  
> his cheeks and lips were puffed out to an impossible size, and the  
> tendons in his neck looked like they were about to bust through his  
> skin .
>
> Now at 200 knots, I saw his arms pulled up in front of his face and  
> he was clawing behind his head. For a moment, I thought he was going  
> to manage to pull his ejection handle and get clear of the plane.  I  
> was mentally cheering for him.
>
> His arms got yanked down by the blast, and I cursed as I changed my  
> radio selector switch to button 1 and said : "Mayday, Mayday, this  
> is 515. My BN has partially ejected. I need an emergency pull- 
> forward!" The reply was an immediate, "Roger. Switch to button  
> six."  I switched frequencies and said [or maybe yelled], "Boss (Air  
> Officer), this is 515. My BN has partially ejected. I need an  
> emergency pull-forward!"
>
> In an effort to get slower, I slapped the gear handle down and  
> turned all my fuel dump valves on. The 'Boss' came back in his ever- 
> calm voice and said, "Bring it on in.."
>
> As I watched, the indexers move from on-speed to a green chevron as  
> I worked the nose to keep the plane as slow as possible and still  
> keep it flying. The plane was holding at around 160 knots airspeed  
> and slowly descending.  My BN's legs were kicking, which gave me  
> some comfort; he was not dead. But, watching his head and body  
> jerked around in the windblast . . being literally beaten to  
> death . . made me ill. I had been arcing [the aircraft] back and  
> forth around in my descent and was still at seven miles when the  
> Boss came up and asked if the BN was still with the aircraft. I  
> think that I caused a few cases of nausea on deck when I said, "Only  
> his legs are still inside the cockpit." It made sense to me, but  
> more than a few people who were listening had visions of two legs  
> and lots of blood and no body.  But, the Boss understood what I'd  
> meant.
>
> As I turned in astern, I called the Boss and told him I was six  
> miles behind the boat. I asked how the deck was coming. He asked if  
> I was setting myself up for a straight-in. I told him "Yes." He told  
> me to continue.
>
> It was then I noticed that my BN had quit kicking. A chill shot  
> through my body as I looked back at him [and I saw] what I saw  
> scared me even more.  His head was now turned left and was laying on  
> his shoulder. His face was starting to turn grey. Maybe he'd broken  
> his neck and was now dead? Bringing back a body that was a friend  
> [only minutes before] was not a good thought. After that I forced  
> myself to not to look at him.
>
> About four miles behind the boat, the front windscreen started to  
> fog up.  I cranked the defog all the way and was getting ready to  
> wipe off the glass when it finally started clearing. Then, I saw the  
> boat making a hard left turn. I made some disparaging remarks about  
> the guys on the bridge as I rolled [into a bank] to chase the boat's  
> centerline.
>
> I heard CAG paddles [landing signal officer] came up on the radio.  
> He told the Captain that he would accept the current deck winds and  
> that he needed to steady up the course. My tension eased slightly as  
> I saw 'mother' begin to leave her wake in a straight line.
>
> Coming in for landing I was now driving it in level at about 300  
> feet. I had been in a slight descent and wasn't willing to add  
> enough power to climb back up to a normal altitude for fear I would  
> have to accelerate and do more physical damage to my already  
> battered BN.
>
> I watched the ball move up to red and then move slowly up towards  
> the center. Paddles called for some rudder and told me not to go  
> high. My scan went immediately to the # 1 [landing] wire. I had no  
> intention of passing up any "perfectly good wires." I touched down  
> short of the number one wire and I sucked the throttles to idle.
>
> The plastic canopy shards in front of the BN's chest looked like a  
> butcher knife collection. I was very concerned that the deceleration  
> of catching the [arresting] wire was going to throw him into that  
> jagged edge.  I cringed when I didn't immediately feel the tug of  
> the wire. I pulled the stick into my lap as paddles was calling for  
> it. So I got the nose gear off the deck and felt the hook catch a  
> wire. I breathed a sigh of relief. Testing the spool-up  
> [acceleration] time of a pair of J-52s engines as I rolled off the  
> [far] end of the angled deck was not the way I wanted to end an  
> already bad 'hop'.
>
> As soon as I stopped, I set the parking brake and a yellow shirt  
> gave me the signal to kill # 2 engine. Immediately after that, I  
> heard a call over the radio that I was chocked. I killed # 1 and  
> began unstrapping.
>
> As soon as I was free of my seat (I somehow remembered to 'safe' the  
> ejection seat) I reached over and 'safed' the BN's lower ejection  
> handle, undid his lower Koch harness fittings and reached up to try  
> to safety his upper ejection handle.
>
> As I was crawling up, I saw that his upper handle was already  
> 'safed.'  I started to release his upper Koch fittings, but decided  
> they were holding him in and I didn't want him to fall against the  
> razor-sharp plexiglas on his side. So I got back on my side of the  
> cockpit, held his left arm and hand, and waited for the medical  
> people to arrive. I realized he still was alive when he said, "Am I  
> on the flight deck?" A wave of indescribable relief washed over me  
> as I talked to him while the crash crew worked to truss him up and  
> ease him out of his seat.
>
> Once he was clear of the plane, they towed me out of the landing  
> area and parked me. By hand, a plane captain bumped my canopy open  
> far enough that I could squeeze out.  Without looking back at the  
> plane, I headed straight for medical.
>
> Later, I found that ignorance can be bliss. I didn't know two things  
> while I was flying.  First, the BN's parachute had deployed and  
> wrapped itself around the tail section of the plane. Then, the BN's  
> seat timing release mechanism had fired and released the BN from his  
> seat. The only things keeping him in the plane were his parachute  
> risers that were holding him against the back of the seat.
>
> [abridged from an article taken from crew interviews]





ooroo

If you don't hear the knock of opportunity - build a door.

Anon.



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