Gramps from yesteryear.

By a Hair

During preflight of his F4D Skyray prior to launch from a big attack carrier, the "Ford" pilot noted that his plane had no zero-delay lanyard for use in the ejection system. He sent the plane captain off to get one for him. After some delay, the plane captain returned with the lanyard. Now securely fastened in, the pilot fired up, completed all checks and taxied forward for the catapult shot.

The cat shot felt completely normal. All engine instruments checked out OK and no warning lights were on in the cockpit. As he cleared the bow and pulled the gear handle up, almost immediately he felt a terrific explosion and saw through the rear view mirror that he was on fire!

At the same time, he had a definite loss of thrust and almost all cockpit warning lights began flashing, including the fire warning light. Someone yelled on the air, "Fire, fire. You're on fire!" The pilot figured he was only at 100 feet now and was slow, so he eased back on the stick. He had to get the bird in a nose-high, ascending position before ejection.

By now, he was closely followed by a huge orange fireball. The F4D was definitely climbing, so he reached up and pulled the curtain. The ejection was normal. He remembered tumbling in the air and seeing the flaming plane moving away from him. Knowing the altitude at ejection couldn't have been much over 200 feet, he spent an agonizing moment waiting anxiously for the parachute to fully open. Suddenly, he felt the opening snap. His feet came together abruptly just as he hit the water, feet first at a sharp angle.

Somewhat dazed and realizing he was underwater, he immediately pulled the C[O.sub.2] bottles on his Mae West. Popping to the surface he pulled off his oxygen mask, which he had retained, found himself coughing up blood and having a hard time breathing, but afloat and alive.

Right then, the rescue helo showed up overhead, Johnny-on-the-spot, and dropped its rescue swimmer into the water. After some really sharp work on the part of both the crewman and the helo pilot, the "Ford" pilot was safely hoisted and returned to the CVA he had left a few long minutes ago. The zero-delay lanyard he had demanded on preflight had definitely saved his life.

Grampaw Pettibone says:

Singe my old gray whiskers, 'cause this lad had a real close one! 'Course the only reason he's a livin,' breathin,' kickin' and complainin' aviator today is because he knew his survival equipment and its capabilities. When the chips were down, he went through the whole routine just as though he was in an old rockin' chair, instead of riding an about-to-blow bomb. Cool!

It takes a real pro to send your plane captain off for the missing piece of gear you want and may need when the flight deck crew is hollerin' at you to "get on with it."

Every piece of survival equipment was born after great travail and much bloodshed. Use it! Remember, the life you save will be your own!

Final Descent

An F/A-18D pilot, a certified air combat tactics instructor, and his weapon systems operator (WSO), an experienced aviator but relatively new to the Hornet community, were scheduled for a multiflight, multiday cross country with another F/A-18 that included instrument and one-versus-one training hops to help regain proficiency. In the month prior, the two fliers had been away from the cockpit for more than three weeks and had also missed a two-week, intensive air-to-air training exercise. However, they flew the required sorties the week before the cross country to reestablish currency minimums.

On the first day, they flew an instrument flight only, due to adverse weather. On the second day, two flights were flown: an instrument flight and a two-versus-two air intercept flight the crew arranged with F/A-18s from another squadron. There were no adverse high-G effects during this air intercept mission despite the lengthy layoff from high-G flight by the pilot and WSO.

On the third day, the crew was to fly a two-versus-two air intercept flight but mechanical problems prompted a change to a one-versus-one sortie. The aircraft flew the briefed mandatory G warm-up maneuver, pulling about four to six Gs, before commencing the one-versus-one mission. The flight leader elected to omit the first two, more benign set-ups of the one-versus-one mission. They then set up for the more aggressive maneuvers. The aircraft were positioned 1.5 miles from each other, line abreast, Airspeed was 400 knots, altitude 18,000 feet. The Hornets turned 30 degrees away from each other, then turned back after achieving five miles of separation.

Both aircraft descended 6,000 feet. Just prior to the merge, which began at 12,000 feet, the wingman pilot transmitted, "Left to left," to indicate the type of merge pass he expected. This was the last transmission from the aircraft. At this point, both aircraft were traveling toward each other at 500 knots with the wingman slightly higher. At the merge, the wingman commenced a hard 135-degree angle of bank descending left turn. The pilot of the lead aircraft pulled up into a steep climb and decelerated to achieve a better turning airspeed. After six seconds, the wingman's hard turn eased and the aircraft continued downward in a slight left banking turn until it struck the water. The pilot and WSO were killed, the aircraft destroyed.

Grampaw Pettibone says:

A sad, sad spiral into the deep. Gramps can only conclude the aviators' G tolerance wasn't up to par for this maneuvering engagement. High-G flight comes with the territory for strike fighter aircrews, and these fliers most likely suffered loss of consciousness due to high Gs (GLOC). With the easing of the steep turn, the F/A-18D continued a final plunge into the sea, absent of any evidence of an attempt to recover from the dive. The accident board believed the G tolerance of the pilot and WSO was impaired due to little recent high-G exposure, rendering them more susceptible to GLOC. This is a serious point to ponder.