First for Real IFR flight as PIC

PIC = Pilot In Command
I struggled in flight school with instrument training and almost didn't make it to graduation because of my poor instrument flying skills.

They say graduating from flight school is really only just your ticket to learn. I'd have to agree. Korea was a great place to exponentially increase your learning as a pilot. I was told that those who got assigned state side (in the Continental U.S.) were lucky to get 200 flight hours a year. I managed to get a total of 500 hours my 1st year in Korea. So, the opportunity to learn was certainly there.

Army Aviation is designed to have an all weather capability. We are required by Army Regulations to file and fly IFR unless doing so would hinder or prevent the mission from being accomplished. North of Seoul, where I was stationed, there is no IFR structure, so 99.9% of all of our flying in Korea was VFR. I'm probably one of the rare few Army pilots who managed to get some actual IFR time while stationed in Korea. Harry told me about getting socked in on the top of a mountain east of Seoul. He called ATC and got himself an IFR clearance and then did an ITO off the mountain, so all weather capability can come in handy when you are where you can utilize it. It can also be dangerous if you are not steeped in the "right stuff".

An ITO is an Instrument Takeoff where the pilot departs the ground and establishes flight solely by reference to the aircraft flight instruments without outside reference.

If you are skilled in the ITO technique, you can depart in zero, zero conditions. The wisdom of this is debated because of the previously mentioned "good idea to always have an out". What if... you have to return for landing shortly after takeoff due to a chip light or something? You usually need a little bit more than zero, zero to land safely. Harry was good to go because clear weather wasn't far off and there were no instrument approaches back to the mountain he was on.

After my 1st year in Korea I was pretty comfortable in the aircraft as far as VFR flying goes. Every Army aviator has to complete an annual instrument checkride to remain on flight status. Even though I did not get any additional instrument flying exposure during my 1st year in Korea having the extra 500 hours in the aircraft did make me more comfortable, and my annual instrument checkride went well. That helped my instrument flying confidence a little.


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Soon after passing my instrument checkride I was given a mission to an Air Force Base at the far southern part of South Korea at Gwangju. There was plenty of IFR route structure south of Seoul. I was excited. I would get to practice my instrument flying.

I planned my mission the night before with great detail and was ready.

When I woke up the next morning the weather was absolutely terrible. It was a beautiful day for a good, competent, skilled instrument flyer, which I wasn't. I remembered the warning my last instrument IP gave me when I passed my final instrument checkride in flight school, "Take those clouds seriously. They are nothing to play around in." So, I told myself, "I guess we'll go VFR or Special VFR everywhere today. So much for all that planning."


My copilot that day was a black Lieutenant T.C. Newman. He was a good pilot, but he was green like I had been upon arrival in Korea, fresh out of flight school.

Regardless of flying experience or ability you had to have at least 3 months of flying experience in Korea before you were made a PIC (Pilot in Command). T.C. had not yet hit the 3 month mark.

All the men I flew with when I was green took good care of me and groomed me to excel in Korea, but all the flying we did was VFR. I did not have the opportunity to build any quality experience with seasoned guys in the IFR realm of flight. I did have plenty of marginal VFR flying experience. This mission would be covering plenty of territory, especially once I got south of Kunsun, that I had no experience flying in VFR or otherwise.

T.C. and I did our preflight and soon departed Uijeongbu for Osan AFB to pickup our PAX which were a few American Army Officers and a Korean General.

We crept into Osan on a special VFR clearance picked up our PAX and departed on a special VFR clearance heading for Kunsan AFB.

We made it into Kunsan with a special VFR clearance also. At Kunsan we refueled. One of the American Officers tried to talk me into using the weather as an excuse to RON (Remain Over Night). He mentioned something about knowing a WAF at Kunsan. My work ethic caused me to decline and press on to complete our current mission.

We departed Kunsan on a special VFR clearance in route to Kwangju AFB.

I had been into Kunsan before, but everything south of Kunsan was new territory for me. As mentioned in previous marginal weather flying posts I talked about how familiarity of your AO (Area Operations) helps. Besides being new territory to me, I could feel the weather getting worse. Besides simply getting worse it was quickly going to the point where VFR flight would no longer be possible. I had all of my instrument flight preparations with me, but I had no confidence in my ability to pull off the flying part. I had to do something though, because soon the weather would force us on the ground.

I wondered how T.C. did in instruments, so I asked, "T.C. how'd you do in instruments?"

He came back with, "I did good."

That's all the vetting he had for my next decision, "Kunsan departure control. Tomahawk 1234 requesting IFR to Kwangju."

Departure control replied, "Tomahawk 1234 Roger. Climb to and maintain 8,000 feet."

I pulled pitch to climb and we soon entered the soup. I worked on getting my crosscheck to lock in. I wallowed 30 degrees left then 30 degrees right. My crosscheck wasn't coming in. Besides that Kunsan gave us instructions involving equipment we didn't have, e.g. DME etc.

I'd respond, "Tomahawk 1234, negative DME"

Finally they told us to just track to the Kwangju NDB.

After struggling to get my instrument crosscheck to lock in without success, I decided to give T.C. the controls to see what he could do.

I said, "T.C. you have the controls."

T.C. responded as he took the controls, "Roger. I have the controls."

Fortunately TC's instrument skills were better than mine. He wallowed a little bit initially, but not as bad as I did. Before he smoothed out his crosscheck I thought to myself, "Oh boy, ROWBEAR , what kind of trouble did you get yourself into now. Come on T.C. lock it in!" And he did. His crosscheck smoothed out nicely. If it hadn't, this decision of mine might not have turned out good.

I let T.C. fly a little longer before I decided to give it another try. Finally I said, "Okay T.C. I have the controls."

He visually affirmed I had them before releasing them and saying, "Roger. You have the controls."

My crosscheck locked in! Thank God! I smoothed out. After remaining on the controls long enough to make sure it was real and to feel comfortable. I handed the controls back to T.C. When he received them smooth, he remained smooth.

One of the American Officers in the back who was also an aviator told me later instruments can be a little rusty sometimes. He also said that as we climbed through 7,000 feet a big sucker hole opened up, and the Korean General unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up, and pointed to the ground as if to say, we should land.

With the flight experience I have and the things I've seen, when someone learns I'm a pilot and invites me to go flying with them, I'm not too keen on the idea especially if I don't have access to the controls and familiarity with the aircraft. I can only imagine what it felt like in the back of that aircraft when we pulled up into the clouds and started wallowing 30 degrees left and right as we climbed.

Once T.C. and I both smoothed out, the rest of the flight was fun and uneventful. We were still at a pretty high altitude when T.C. caught sight of the Kwangju airfield and told the controller, "Airfield in sight". I would have preferred practicing the approach to a lower altitude. But, we made it.

The American Officers invited us to join them at the club, but I declined since I knew tomorrow would also be a big day knowing the smarter thing to do would be to get a good night's rest.

One of the American Army Officers told us the next day that the Air Force Officers in the club wanted to know where the junior fly boys were that flew that helicopter in there in that kind of weather.

I would have only one more for real IFR flying experience in Korea that is another story in another way. The instrument flying all went well with this other story and my copilot and I were both glad to get home due to the instrument option.

One of my buddies in Korea later went to the Instrument Examiner school at Fort Rucker while I was instructing Contact, Tactics, NOE, Nighthawk, and NVG. He talked me into being his student pilot. That ended in disaster. Fortunately not a crashing disaster.

I wouldn't become truly comfortable and competent with instrument flight until I became a contract instrument instructor pilot back at Fort Rucker. I'm sure that job experience helped me to survive the IIMC experience I had in the post: 178 seconds to live.

In my post: Marathon HEMS Shift I mentioned the July 2010 issue of Popular Mechanics article "Why Medical Helicopters Keep Crashing". This article offers solutions. It is a long and complicated subject. There are detractors and "devil's advocates" on all sides of the issue even what I think would be the optimum best improvement to increase HEMS safety. And, that would be an apprenticeship portal company possibly government subsidized that operates dual pilot, all weather, with no autopilots that all pilots interested in moving into the Helicopter Air Ambulance sector of flying would have to pass through to become certified for single pilot HEMS operations. Like the 3 months minimum time in country to become a PIC, these men or women would need a certain amount of time and exposure to different flight experiences while flying with experienced pilots that have already been there and done that before getting signed off as able to be a qualified HEMS pilot. But then in this world we are often faced with "the way it is" and "the way it ought to be". Rarely do the two coincide.

There you have it! Another Tall Tale I'm grateful to have survived.

Ciao...

Korean Soldiers are Tough!

The air mobile training we did mostly involved Korean troops.  I remember flying American troops a couple of times.  The Americans were large, heavy, and slow loading and unloading.  It was tough getting a Huey off the ground with a full load of Americans onboard.  The Koreans on the other hand were small, light, and fast.  The aircraft usually came off the ground quite easy.

The Koreans, especially the Tiger Brigade,  also had a tough reputation from their service in Vietnam.  It was said they would build large bonfires at night while no one else dared,  and the Vietcong did not mess with them.  If the Vietcong did mess with the Korean Tiger Brigade, they soon learned to regret it.

On this particular lift I was flying with CW2 Foster Oats. Foster was a Cobra pilot and was a Cav Trooper in Vietnam. Although our unit was not Cav, Foster still wore his Cav hat quite often. He was a good man. Since he was a Cobra pilot I didn't fly with him much. This might have been the only time I flew with him, but this was quite memorable because of what I'm about to share. Foster is second from the left helping me hold the cow in the picture.
Foster and I were in the chalk four position of a flight of five. I was sitting in the left seat.

Our LZ was a saddle. A saddle consists of two hill tops and the dip between the two. The lead aircraft landed on the top of the hill on the left. Chalk two hovered against the slope descending left to right. Chalk three landed in the trough between the two hill tops. Chalk four, Foster and I hovered against the slope descending right to left. The trail aircraft landed on top of the hill on the right.

It was Foster's turn on the controls and I was sitting in the left seat, as Foster hovered against the slope, while I sat watching the Korean soldiers jump out of the aircraft. The right side of the aircraft was close to the ground, so those soldiers had an easy, short jump from the aircraft to the ground. The soldiers exiting the aircraft on the left side had every bit of ten feet of air to pass through before they contacted the ground.

I remember sitting in the left seat watching them jump out. Besides their weapons, they each carried forty pound packs on their backs. They would exit the aircraft and scream toward the ground. When their feet would hit, their knees would buckle and then they would rapidly head off into the bushes. I sat there watching and thinking, "Dang! I'm glad I don't have to do that."

At that time we were taking a shortcut in the interest of expediency. Each seat had individual seatbelts. Allowing the soldiers to use the individual seatbelts proved slow. In Vietnam the use of seatbelts was rare to nonexistent so I was told. Often the birds didn't even have any seats in them. The soldiers simply sat on the floor. Our rear cabin seats were setup as a bench facing the door. Five soldiers sat on each side. Our crewchief sat in a forward facing seat just behind and between the pilot and copilot's seats. The crewchief assisted with loading and unloading. Some of them were known to toss slow moving troops out the door. Our shortcut involved using a single cargo strap on each side of the aircraft to secure all five troops on each side.

When we came in for a landing the crewchief would undo one end of the cargo strap so the troops could disembark. While probably not near as safe as individual seatbelts, the cargo strap was more than they did in Vietnam, and proved faster than allowing individual troops to deal with their own individual seatbelt.

I sat there watching each troop disembark in turn when the last one jumped out. The crewchief shouted, "we're clear". Foster began to pull pitch to take off from the slope we were hovering against. I watched the last troop's feet scream for the ground. When they were only one foot above they were snatched out from under him. He crashed down on his back with eyes wide open.

I was temporarily nonplussed. The troops feet were hung up in the end of the cargo strap. The strap had stretched tight with only a foot to go. As Foster started to lift the soldier off the ground, the crewchief shouted for us to wait because one was hung up. Foster smoothly and cooly backed the aircraft up and down as the crewchief wrestled to pull the tangled strap loose.

I watched the soldier again glad it wasn't me. A trickle of blood came out from the side of his mouth. His eyes were still wide open. Finally the crewchief was successful in getting the strap loose. The Korean soldier climbed to his feet and hurried off into the bushes to join his buddies. The crewchief informed us that we were clear again, and Foster then completed a smooth takeoff.

This flight probably wouldn't have been memorable if the soldier had not gotten hung up.

Ciao!

ps  Regarding speed. One of the Vietnam vets told me about a resupply mission in Vietnam where the vietcong had the helipad zero'd in with mortars.  The aircraft would fly in, flare over the pad as the crewchiefs tossed stuff out the door during the flare, then quickly roll forward and pull pitch for departure.  As the Huey barely cleared the pad, a couple of mortars would strike behind them.

A Discussion of Abby Sunderland's Attempt to Sail Around the World

Prologue

I sometimes participate in an anonymous Helicopter forum that is sometimes hard hitting, sometimes puerile, sometimes informative, and often entertaining. If anyone gets an inclination to participate, it is important to read: The Rules of Engagement (ROE) first.

The Abby Sunderland story of her attempt to circumnavigate the world in a sailboat has interested me. Even though it is a JUSTHELICOPTERS forum occasionally other topics show their face, and a discussion of Abby's attempt found its way there. The below post by Popeye while attacking Abby's father pretty hard seems to provide to my sailing illiterate mind cogent arguments regarding the sailing aspects of Abby's attempt.

I provided a followup response to Popeye's post, and I present both here.

PLEASE NOTE: Anyone who posts anonymously on the JH forum is NOT truly anonymous.

Also, JUSTHELICOPTERS provides a lot more than the forums and is a good resource for anyone interested in knowing more about the helicopter industry.

The Real Sunderland Reality Author: Popeye Date: 6/14/2010 10:54:33 PM

Abby Sunderland was rushed out the gate in an ill prepared attempt to get an obscure record. She had to stop at Cabo for major upgrades on her boat. There were 2 auto pilots on the boat and the electrical demand exceeded the ability of the wind generators and solar panels to supply power. This was in California and Mexico, not the overcast Atlantic or Souther Ocean where you might not see the sun for days. Bad omen and signs of total incompetence before even leaving the Americas.
Abby continued to have problems with the 2 auto pilots for most of her trip. She stated in her blog that she had no wind-vane steering because her boat went too fast. This of-course is nonsense. I have sailed boats with twice the hull speed of her boat that used the system. Zak Sunderland, her brother in his circumnavigation and Jessica Watson in her record breaking circumnavigation had wind-vanes installed. I can only guess she was parroting the misinformation her father gave her. Monitor wind-vanes do not require electricity to run and are the preferred safety navigation system for most epic adventurers.

When both navigation systems inevitably failed Abby stopped in Cape town to replace them. Her Father flew down to help. As well as replacing the navigation system he helped with repairs. Rather than wait for a cradle at the boat yard to hoist the boat out to repair a scratch in the hull, they did the most boneheaded and dangerous repair you can do on a sailboat. They tied a rope to the top of the mast and using leverage pulled the boat over to expose the hull (photos on Abby's blog Thursday May 13). I have seen masts snap when this has been tried and the fact that her mast later broke might not be coincidental.That action creates enormous stress on the mast and deck fittings. It is something you do on hobby-cats and small sailboats, not on a 40 foot boat if there are any alternatives. Again, incompetence, rushing and ignorance setting her up for failure.

The builder of her boat, Marty Still, warned them not to continue as it was the wrong time of year for the southern Ocean in that type of boat with such an inexperienced sailor. Her father let her go anyway.

The claims of Abby being an experienced sailor are put to rest in her own words and actions. In her blog on June 2 I was horrified to read on that she went on deck in a storm at night without her foul weather safety gear. She stated she didn't have time to put it on. Sailing 101 tells you otherwise. It took her days to get dry and warm again.

The photo of her boat de-masted are a pictorial record of her inexperience. You can see the trailing mast and sails in the water. A mast can and does puncture the hull of the boat if it is allowed to dangle from the boat after going overboard and bash against the hull. An experienced sailor would cut it free to eliminate the danger of sinking the boat. She either (a) didn't know to do that (b) was not equipped with the necessary tools (c) didn't have the strength. Any answer is reason to believe she shouldn't have been out there in those conditions. I think she was so controlled from shore by her team that when the mast went down and she lost contact and was left to her own devices her inexperience showed.

Two Sat phones and two auto pilots do not make you safe if you do not have the fundamental survival skills. Her father put her life in jeopardy when he allowed her to continue from Cape Town into the Southern Ocean at the most dangerous time of year. Her boat was knocked down twice, Jessica Watson had her boat knocked down 7 times in her record breaking circumnavigation. The difference is Jessica boat was more suited to the task, was better prepared and she is a vastly more experienced sailor than Abby and was through the southern Ocean before Abby got to Cape Town.

Abby did a great job and was lucky to round the two capes in relatively mild conditions(Jessica had 5 knockdowns before she entered the Indian Ocean). I would have applauded her efforts if common sense prevailed and she stayed in cape-town and continued when the weather was better.

Her father equates this with letting a 16 year old drive a car. But you don't let a 16 year old drive a car on ice, at night with no headlights and bald tires. That's the equivalent conditions he put Abby in.

The difference between the balloon boy's attention seeking Dad and Abby's Father is that Balloon Boys dad did not actually risk the life of his kid in an attempt at fame and fortune.

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My Response to Above Author: Interested in learning Date: 6/15/2010 12:35:59 AM


"The difference between the balloon boy's attention seeking Dad and Abby's Father is that Balloon Boys dad did not actually risk the life of his kid in an attempt at fame and fortune."

Good post Popeye! You obviously appear to know more about sailing than any of the other posts I've read on this subject. You make good sound cogent points in your post regarding sailing and I accept them.

I've been sailing, but the extent of my sailing experience could be compared to someone having a couple of rides on a helicopter. By no means could that person be considered a helicopter pilot after a couple of rides. Neither am I a sailor.

I do see a difference in the ballon boy's dad and Abby's dad though other than the one you pointed out above. The ballon boy's dad fraudulently called 911 when his son didn't really need any help and he knew it.

Abby really needed help.

So how culpable is her dad? By your post, it is pretty clear to me now that he is the type of individual whose glass is half full. If you're half the sailor your post indicates you are, and if you are also a seasoned helicopter pilot then we both know that glass half full attitude can get you seriously hurt or killed in both sailing and flying helicopters.
The last I heard, stupidity is not a crime. Stupidity can extract an extreme cost. Fortunately Abby dodged the ultimate cost here.

This is a good analogy you made: "Her father equates this with letting a 16 year old drive a car. But you don't let a 16 year old drive a car on ice, at night with no headlights and bald tires. That's the equivalent conditions he put Abby in." Kinda like trying to do a Blackhawk job in a Bell 47. Not smart. I don't know that the extremes are that extreme because I don't have the experience to judge, so to me it seems more like trying to accomplish in a Huey something a Blackhawk is way more suitable for like carrying a full squad.

From your post it looks like Abby's dad could use a lot more experience. I have to ask myself, "was he malicious in what he did? Or just unknowingly stupid?" Both can get you in serious trouble, one deserves the consequences way more than the other. Though both may suffer the same.

Our aircraft require an air worthiness certificate. We also require a checkout before we are allowed to do certain things. It appears in the sailing world anyone is free to do whatever they wish. Maybe not a good idea where the underage is concerned. How hard would it be for the coastguard to give a stamp of approval or a denial in a situation like this?

I'm curious; if Abby did have a suitable boat properly equipped for solo circumnavigation of the world, if the boat was properly handled (thinking of the inappropriate mast technique to inspect the hull), and finally if Abby demonstrated that she had the necessary nautical skill to include the judgment not to sail into hostile waters at the wrong time of the year, would you say it is okay for a 16 year old to attempt what she did?

You also said, "The builder of her boat, Marty Still, warned them not to continue as it was the wrong time of year for the southern Ocean in that type of boat with such an inexperienced sailor. Her father let her go anyway." It appears that was sound advice. We are often faced with conflicting views. Usually it takes a good strong consensus to sway us. (I've flown in weather in the military I wouldn't consider flying in, in EMS.) Even then you may see a contrarian. I remember years ago in IQD on a rainy night all the instructors except for one chose to stand down. I was one of the instructors that stayed on the ground with the herd. The IP that flew told me later that he wasn't afraid of just rain. There was no thunderstorm activity and it was a good experience for his students. That was an eyeopener for me. It is nice to have the experience, knowledge, and skills to go against the herd "wisely". It is also better to err on the side of safety when you know you don't know. May God help those who don't know they don't know which looks like what happened here. That doesn't mean He will, but for Abby I'm grateful He did.

IMO that was a good post you made Popeye. I appreciate you taking the time to express yourself. You've given me a better understanding and insight into what took place. Thanks.

BTW I was one of the main advocates for Abby and her parents down below. I'm still for her and am still inclined to give her parents the benefit of the doubt though you've shed some light on a lot. The light shed still makes me curious, how is it in the sailing world that someone can attempt to pull something like this without more oversight? Can you say, "Hello Captain Ron".

Once again, thanks for the time you took to make the post you did.

Ciao...

Marginal Weather Flying ~ Just for Grins

It's not really a good idea to do any marginal weather flying just for grins. I've learned that if something is going to go wrong, it will most likely go wrong when you are doing something you have no business doing.

The weather wasn't really marginal this day. It was actually pretty good. I wasn't in Korea either. I was flying offshore for PHI at South Timbalier 151.

I flew a 206B Bell Jet Ranger like the aircraft on the left in the picture below coming in for a landing at the end of the working day.


Though the weather was good the humidity conditions were such that when the oil men needing transport climbed onboard the inside windscreen immediately fogged up. I kept a rag near my collective where my left hand could easily grab it and wipe the wind screen clean when necessary.

I was working my tail off keeping the windscreen clean that day and getting tired of it when the thought hit me that there was nothing to bump into out there. I could see fine out of my side window and it was more than sufficient for what I had to do. So, the thought continued, "I should just takeoff and leave the windscreen obscured." After all it wasn't going to hurt anything, and so I did.

The oil man that had the pleasure of sitting in the front with me, looked at the obscured windscreen as I pulled pitch and lifted from the rig; he then looked at me all calm and peaceful without a care in the world; then he looked at the rag I had previously been wearing out. He grabbed the rag and started wiping furiously saying, "I don't know how you can see anything out here!"

I just looked at him and smiled. I didn't have to clean another windscreen that day. Life was good...

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The above was short so I'll add another quick brief one from offshore...

I got a call to head to the beach and pick someone up. Soon after a fellow pilot buddy called and said he had a man on his rig that needed to go to the beach. He wanted to know if I could take him. It was no problem, so I agreed.

PHI had an altitude limit of 6,000 feet. Most of the pilots stayed between 300 feet and 1,000 feet never going any higher. Prior to landing on my buddy's rig I called weather to check winds aloft. All the way up at 6,000 I had a good tail wind that would get me to the beach pretty quick, so I made up my mind that I'd be heading way up there to take advantage of the tail wind after picking up the man on my buddy's rig.

The passenger climbed in. I pulled pitch and took off. Since I was heading to 6,000 I just left the pitch pulled in so I'd keep climbing to where I wanted to go.

In short order we went through 1,000 feet the highest altitude most oil men ever experienced in little birds. We kept climbing. The oil man didn't say anything until I climbed through 2,000 feet, then he looked at me with a puzzled look and said, "Where're you going?"

I looked at him and smiled with a questioning response, "To the moon?"

He said, "I, I, I believe you!".

It was still a good flight. Staying 1,000 feet or lower you never had to worry about yourself or your passengers needing to clear their ears to adjust to the pressure changes climbing to and descending from higher altitude causes. Also, it seemed a lot of oil men got scared up high. This passenger didn't complain and he also didn't seem to have any problems with his ears. He was obviously glad to have a short ride to the beach onboard a helicopter instead of a long ride on a boat, in spite of a pilot he didn't know that flew higher than most.

Clearing your ears would more likely be a problem if you were dealing with a cold. It is recommended that you not fly with a cold.

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My wife often refers to me as "one more Dave". The two above were short, so I think I'll add one more that I was told.

It took place in the days before PHI pilots wore company uniforms. A seasoned pilot did a workover at a base where the oil men didn't know him. This pilot got together with the dispatcher to pull a PJ (practical joke) on the oil men. Since he was dressed like the oil men and looked like the oil men since PHI didn't have any company uniforms back then, he told the dispatcher, "My bird is ready. I'm going to go hangout in the lounge like I'm an oil man. After a little bit, go tell all the men the bird is ready and the pilot will soon be there as you point them in the right direction to go load."

Base dispatchers often assisted with loading.

The dispatcher went and relayed the message after a reasonable amount of time. The pilot joined the crowd and headed to the aircraft with them like he was one of the boys. When they got there, he climbed in the back as if he belonged with them.

There they sat patiently waiting for the pilot that was supposed to show up soon. Of course he wasn't never going to show since he was already there. After a bit and no longer patient one of the men started bad mouthing the pilot.

The pilot who was in the back joined in with the bad mouthing saying, "Yea, if that sorry SOB doesn't hurry up and show up soon I'm going to have to climb up front and fly this thing my own self."

A different oil man said, "Ah, you can't do that!"

The pilot said, "Well we'll just have to see." He then climbed out of the back and hopped into the pilot's seat. He noticeably looked around the cockpit until he spied the operators flight manual. He pulled the book out and thumbed through the pages until he found the section covering starting procedures. Then he started slowing going through the procedures awkwardly looking around for the required switch or whatnot. Saying out loud what he was looking for as he searched, "Battery switch?" His finger would go from switch to switch until he found the right one. Then with a happy exclamation he'd say, "Ah Battery Switch on!" as he flipped it. Then he'd go to the next item.

The oil men sat in the back obviously thinking, "yea right, this fool thinks he's going to fly this thing. It'd be a miracle if he even managed to get it started.

Finally the pilot read out, "Starter switch?" His search began. When he found it, he pressed the button, pulled the trigger, or did whatever was necessary for the helicopter he was in.

The turbine engine started to scream:

All the oil men bailed out with due haste when that happened.

The pilot completed a successful crank then he pulled his ID out and held it out the window shouting above the roar of the turbine, "I'm your pilot, I'm your pilot. It's okay, Come on and get back on" as he also tried to wave them back aboard.

The oilmen just stood there on the ramp shaking their heads no. The pilot had to finally shut down and call another pilot that he knew that one of the oilmen also knew to vouch for him before they would climb aboard again.

Shortly after that stunt, PHI pilots had uniforms.

Well, there's enough tall tales for today. I hope you enjoyed...

Ciao!

Marginal Weather Flying ~ No Out

Soon after the flight described in Marginal Weather Flying ~ Smooth Sailing I had a very similar mission to the same area, and I once again had to pickup a ROK Navigator at the same airfield near Hwacheon. My co-pilot on this flight was the company's Executive Officer: CPT. Rice. The XO is second in command to the CO.

There was weather covering the area again. It was different from the other time though. The Buffer Zone was still clear, but the entry to the route we took to the airfield previously was blocked off. Farther to the west was clear and there was a small connecting valley that would take us to the rice paddy route to the airstrip if the weather would allow us to make it through flying nap of the earth.

The green arrow on the Google Map below points out the connecting valley.


View Larger Map

Entry to the valley looked good. There was weather above it capping its top, but there appeared to be adequate maneuvering room through the valley below the weather to transition through, so we pressed on.

This was a different situation from the one previously described. This valley was tight, narrow, and rugged. There were no convenient rice paddies available to land on should the need arise. We were considerably below the tops of the peaks. Should the weather close off on us while in the valley executing IIMC procedures could prove quite difficult due to the close proximity of the rugged terrain. Attempting to land could be just as difficult due to the rugged nature of the valley floor. And, there was no room inside the tight valley to safely execute a 180 degree turn to return to better weather conditions should our route through the valley become impassable.

I have mentioned previously that flying is an exercise in stacking the deck in your favor. Here I had chosen a tough hand to play and I did not do a very good job of stacking the deck. I really had "no out" should the weather decide not to cooperate. An out is simply an available alternative course of action should the chosen one prove unworkable. It is a very good thing to have whenever you go flying. You always want to be asking yourself, "What if?"

Harry Reasoner wrote a classic piece titled: "Helicopter Pilots are Different". Reasoner's depiction portrays the attitude of the right stuff for a helicopter pilot. When I entered the valley I was in "the glass is half full" mode. That way of thinking can get you killed if you are a helicopter pilot, e.g. optimistically telling yourself, "The weather's getting better!" When it is really getting worse can cause you to encounter a cumulous granite. "Cumulous Granite?" Yea, that's a cloud that is not all soft and forgiving, but is rock hard and deadly because of the mountain it obscures.

Halfway through the narrow valley the weather started to close in on us. I had no out. The deck was not properly stacked. It could have easily been all over with for myself and CPT. Rice right then. I focused and maintained my poker face and did what I could which probably included a little bit of silent praying even though I had still not been born again. For a brief moment I only had ground reference through one narrow opening through the weather. If that had closed off we would have been IIMC in a very poor spot to have that happen. My pucker factor cranked up a few notches. Captain Rice never knew.

The weather did open back up through that one tough spot and the rest of the flight was inconsequential. After making it through the valley Captain Rice said, "Wow! Probably couldn't have done that with anyone else." I just smiled thinking, "If only he really knew just how close that was he wouldn't be so impressed." It was a good lesson for me. I would be more careful to better evaluate what I was about to put myself through in the future.

Except for my first for real IFR flying experience which I have yet to tell, I've always done a much better job of stacking the deck and insuring I had an alternative out available for all my subsequent marginal weather flying situations. Whenever your pucker factor begins to crank up it usually means that it is time to exercise an available alternative option. If you press on in the face of an increasing pucker factor you're more likely to encounter disaster. If you have other options available to you, experiencing an increasing pucker factor is usually a good indicator that you should do something else besides your present course of action. That's playing your cards. And, always insuring that you have other options available to you would be considered stacking the deck in your favor.

If you fly, fly safe!

Ciao...

Marginal Weather Flying ~ Smooth Sailing

Korea is known as "The Land of the Morning Calm" where ground fog is often found over bodies of water until the sun manages to burn it off.
As a pilot I was treated to some remarkably beautiful sights involving ground fog especially on early morning flights. I remember once watching a valley full of ground fog overflowing a low spot in a ridge and cascading down like a waterfall into the lower realms of the adjacent valley that was clear.

Another time there was a huge clear cavern through the fog that led to the headquarters of a Korean General I had to pickup for the days mission. It was like flying into a long horizontal cave. Like a cave that gets darker the deeper you penetrate it, the weather got poorer the farther back and closer to the pickup spot we got. The weather allowed us access in and out though.


The Korean Peninsula is divided North from South by the DMZ (DeMilitarizedZone) which is roughly located along the 38 parallel.

Korean DMZ

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Immediately south of the DMZ is a thin strip of land approximately 5 miles wide called the Buffer Zone that requires extensive training to be cleared to fly inside of it as a PIC (Pilot In Command). I became a BZ pilot and later a BZ check pilot that trained others to be cleared to fly the buffer zone.

The Korean Buffer Zone is divided into 7 sectors. We trained aggressively in zones 1 through 4. Any flight in zones 5 through 7 required picking up a ROK Navigator before entering the buffer zone. This was more a formality than anything else. Harry told me that my own personal map navigation better be up to speed whenever I was required to pickup a Korean Navigator because totally relying on the Korean with the lag in our inefficient language communications could get you in serious trouble.

If it was obvious an aircraft was going to overfly the DMZ, the South would fire warning shots in an attempt to warn the pilot away. The North would not shoot at you until you realized your error and turned around in an attempt to get back to the right (south) side of the line. When the North Koreans shot at you they intended to shoot you down.

One of the men I trained in the BZ later returned to Korea for another tour as a Chinook pilot. During that tour he was involved in the recovery of an OH-58 that had been shot down.

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On this particular day I had a mission into buffer zone sector 5 north of Chuncheon. We were scheduled to pickup our ROK Navigator at a small Korean airstrip just to the northwest of Hwacheon. We flew relatively high to the Chuncheon Valley. The Pukhan River connected Chuncheon with Hwacheon. It is a pretty large body of water. When we cleared last ridge obstructing our view of the Chuncheon Valley we were greeted by a large expanse of ground fog.

The area to the north of Hwacheon inside the buffer zone where we needed to go was totally clear, but the Korean airstrip where we needed to pickup our ROK navigator was also covered by ground fog.

It was also clear just to the south of the buffer zone where we needed to go. If I could get into the valley that the airstrip was in we could comfortably follow the rice paddies to the airfield.

In the satellite view below showing the "Ridge Point of Crossing" you can see two valleys. The valley on the west was fog enshrouded. The valley on the east was clear. As luck would have it the airstrip we needed to get to for our navigator pickup was in the valley on the west.

Ridge Point of Crossing

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We descended into the valley on the east very near the green arrow showing the low area on the dividing ridge. The fog was not hugging the ridge tightly and we were able to easily hop the ridge and make it into the bottom of the western valley.

Once in the western valley we air taxied following rice paddies all the way to the airstrip where our ROK navigator was. It was easy and safe traveling to the airstrip over the rice paddies in a helicopter. We flew about 15 feet above the rice paddies at a comfortable airspeed that allowed us to easily see and avoid any obstacles. Also if any aircraft problems tried to beset us it would be an easy matter to simply land in one of the rice paddies. This was a comfortable and fun flight. There was no pucker factor involved. (Pucker Factor is a measure of the stress in any situation. A high pucker factor means high stress.)

AIR TAXI- Used to describe a helicopter/VTOL aircraft movement conducted above the surface but normally not above 100 feet AGL. The aircraft may proceed either via hover taxi or flight at speeds more than 20 knots. The pilot is solely responsible for selecting a safe airspeed/altitude for the operation being conducted.

ROK Navigator Airstrip P/U Point

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Once we arrived at the airstrip, I landed on the grass beside it. We could make out the outline of the buildings housing the Koreans through the fog. Pretty soon our ROK navigator came out with his helmet bag and personal maps. He double timed to just outside our rotor disc before he stopped. Then he put his gear down and simply shook his head indicating that he was not going to get onboard with us obviously because of the weather.

I had a full bird colonel onboard as one of my pax. He saw first hand what I had done to get to the airfield and knew everything was safe and cool, so he volunteered to get out and try to talk the Korean into going with us.

The colonel returned without the Korean shortly after trying to convince him. The colonel said, "He's not listening to me."

I said, "Well I'll get out and give it a try."

The colonel said, "I don't think he will listen, but go ahead and try."

I love languages. Unfortunately I'm only fluent in English. It seems conversations always gravitate to the easiest language to communicate in and so many people know English that it takes a real effort to practice other languages. I knew a little Korean. Most americans seem to focus on learning the expletives. Those didn't interest me. I really wanted to learn to communicate properly in the other language, so I practiced and the older Koreans obliged me and helped me.

When I got to our navigator I flashed him a friendly southern boy smile and told him hello in Korean, "ad-je-shee, ahn-nyong-ha-se-yo."

Then I pointed up the valley from where we came and said, "Cho-gi (There) jo-seum-ni-da (good)!" I followed that with, "ee-di-wa-ka-sip-se-yo (Come on with us)" and nodded with a smile. He nodded back, picked up his stuff and climbed on board with us.

It was a good flight. We air taxied back up the rice paddies and jumped the ridge again at the same spot we previously used. Back in the clear air we then we got out clearance to enter the buffer zone and we proceeded to checkout the things we needed to.

The flight took enough time to allow the sun to melt off the ground fog we had to deal with earlier and we returned the navigator back to his airfield without having to deal with anymore fog. It wasn't quite as fun as picking him up, but I'm sure he had some tales to tell when he got back to his buddies who thought he'd never climb on board with those crazy americans who flew to their fog shrouded airfield.

It was a fun day...

Ciao!

Marathon HEMS Shift

I've been wanting to write another Tall Tale all day, but I've been foggy headed until now that it is almost midnight. I could and maybe should go to bed and hope tomorrow will be a better day, but I finally have the "can do" along with the "want to", so I think I'll strike while the iron is hot.

The July 2010 issue of Popular Mechanics found on the magazine stands now has an article starting on page 80 about "Why Medical Helicopters Keep Crashing" titled "Critical Condition" and referred to as unacceptable risk, a Popular Mechanics Investigation. I won't bother critiquing the article here and only brought it to your attention for those that may be interested in checking it out.

I first got involved in medical helicopter flying in the very early nineties. When I was working seismic and utility in the very early eighties 60 minutes ran a show featuring medical helicopter pilots who commonly did 72 hour shifts. The pilots were complaining about being tired all the time. My seismic mechanic referred to them as being a bunch of wusses. When I finally arrived on the HEMS scene 24 hour shifts were the norm, and it took 3 pilots to staff a base. When I finished in 2006 due to being medically grounded 12 hour shifts were the norm, and it took 4 pilots to staff a base. This tall tale is about the 3 pilot, 24 hour shift days.

Adequate crew rest is an important aspect of aviation safety. I've always taken it seriously and while I was flying I dearly protected my opportunity to get adequate rest, just ask my wife. Now that I'm no longer flying it is not nearly as big a deal any more, just ask my wife.

The 24 hour shifts worked around a 9 day cycle. I've heard it also called a Kelly Shift, and the link describes it best like this: Very popular with fire departments and emergency services agencies, the Kelly shift schedule uses three teams (i.e. platoons) and three shifts to provide 24/7 coverage. It consists of a 9-day cycle where each team works one 24-hour shift, followed by 24 hours off duty, works another 24-hour shift, followed by 24 hours off duty, then works a final 24-hour shift, followed by 4 consecutive days off duty. You can replace three teams with three pilots for the HEMS "Kelly Shift" situation.

Pilots working a Kelly Shift are required to have 8 consecutive hours of uninterrupted rest during their 24 hour shift. Uninterrupted rest was simply considered non-flying time. The 24 hour shift is divided into 3 eight hour periods, which set up several possibilities.

Possibility #1: The pilot reports for duty and does not do any flying in the first 8 hours. He or she is now good to complete the full 24 hours.

Possibility #2: The pilot flies in the first 8 hours. The pilot manages to not get any calls during the second 8 hours and subsequently has his or her 8 consecutive hours of uninterrupted rest, so he or she is now good to complete the full 24 hours and can accept flights in the last 8 hours.

Possibility #3: The pilot flies in the 1st 8 hours and in the 2nd 8 hours. He is now considered timed out and his relief pilot is called in 8 hours early without any extra pay back in those days. This pilot will now pull a 32 hour shift if the work load will allow him to get the required amount of uninterrupted rest. If he successfully pulls the full 32 hours the base is now back on track. As far as having to work an extra 8 hours with out pay... Well, the explained it in this manner: "you come in 8 hours early sometimes and you also get to go home 8 hours early sometimes, so by the law of averages it all balances out."

NOTE: a simple 30 minute flight bridging the 1st 8 hours and the second 8 hours legally times a pilot out so that they have to be relieved before the last 8 hours even if that is all the flying they do.

I had a 3 hour commute to the base I worked out of back in those days. A lot of pilots liked to call their relief pilot whenever it became apparent that it was likely they would time out as a courtesy to give them a heads up. Because of my three hour commute this practice didn't work too good for me. I always had my bag packed and ready to go before lying down to sleep. And, I always went to bed early enough so that I would awake with enough adequate rest even if I had to arrive 8 hours early.

I told the pilot I worked opposite to never to call me just to give me a heads up. I told him to just inform dispatch to call me three hours before I had to be there. This normally worked out well for me as long as "Murphy" didn't try to throw any flies in the ointment.

Our normal crew change was at 5pm or 1700 hours for the base this story revolves around. If the other pilot timed out crew change would be at 9am or 0900 hours. That meant I would get a 6am wakeup call so I could arrive 8 hours early without pay to cover a timeout situation.

The marathon HEMS shift I was about to do would be my first shift back after having 4 days off. I had been a little under the weather during this 4 days off, so I decided to go to bed at 9pm which would have given me a full 9 hours of sleep should the 6am wakeup call come because of a timeout situation.

After climbing in bed, I quickly fell sound asleep. It was one of the soundest sleeps I can remember. I was still quite soundly asleep when I heard the ringing of the phone penetrating my deep slumber pulling me back to the conscious world. My brain was already telling me that the other pilot had timed out. Adrenaline was preparing me for my 3 hour commute.

I answered the phone, "Hello".

Sure enough it was the other pilot, "Dave, this is Murphy."

I said, "Murphy? You timed out?"

He said, "No. I haven't timed out yet, but I've just got that feeling that I will and wanted to give you a heads up."

"Okay. Thanks. If you do time out, just tell dispatch to call me at 6.", I said.

He said, "Okay, bye".

I then looked at the clock. It was 11pm. I had been asleep for exactly 2 hours. For the entire rest of the night I lay on my bed staring at the clock. Sleep would not visit me again for a long, long time. It did not matter how much I wanted to sleep, it did not return.

Finally at 4am with only two hours left before I had to get up it was obvious that I was not going to get any more sleep, so I called dispatch to see if Murphy had indeed timed out. He did. I told dispatch that if he should call to ask them to give me a wakeup call to tell him I was already awake. Then I went ahead and got up. I had a nice shower. I then got a good breakfast and Jo awoke and we spent some quality time visiting before I had to leave.

I surprisingly felt pretty good during my 3 hour commute, and relieved Murphy the timeout king at the appropriate time. For some reason working opposite to Murphy things never did seem to balance out in the timing out department. After Murphy left I took care of my necessary duties to insure the aircraft was ready should we get a call.

I lay down and tried to get a nap in. Sleep wouldn't come. I went to bed early that night. Sleep wouldn't come. The flight phone didn't ring until just after 1am. I still had not slept, but I was now good to carry the shift all the way to the normal 5pm shift change time.

You could also timeout if you managed to get a solid 8 hours of flight time. I would come close, but not close enough to prevent me from finishing the shift at 5pm. I ended up flying a whole lot more than the little bit that timed Murphy out because he managed to fly a little in his 1st 8 hours and his 2nd 8 hours, but the way the rules were written I was good to go.

The Army put us through field problems where sleep was scarce and the men who flew in Vietnam did some crazy long hours when the situation required it.

The book "Chickenhawk" by Robert Mason is considered one of the best books describing the flying in Vietnam. I have no first hand experience over there, but Mason describes being so tired that they were bouncing the aircraft in on landings and just laughing about it. I read the book long ago and it might be time to give it another go. I've never got to where I couldn't land steady because of a lack of sleep. The biggest problem with an excessive lack of sleep is the effect it has on a person's judgment skills. When I'm foggy headed, my judgment skills are pretty poor and seem far worse than what I experienced during the marathon shift told here.

I never did get any sleep during that whole shift. We even had a PR (Public Relations) flight scheduled super close to shift change time. By then my eyes were so bloodshot I was embarrassed to take my sun glasses off. After being up all day the day before shift then only getting 2 sound hours of sleep before I was unnecessarily awakened, I was then out flying after being up for 42 straight hours by the end of my shift, but at least I had my 8 hours of uninterrupted rest.

In the helicopter industry "Uncle Sam" has long been considered the tooth fairy because he cranked out so many of us during the Vietnam Era that we are a dime a dozen. Bob Suggs the original owner of PHI once said he could drag up all the pilots he needs from the gutters of Bourbon Street. My salary when I first started EMS flying was less than 20K a year. When I became medically grounded in 2006 it was only 52K a year. It has been fun though for the most part and has provided a plethora of Tall Tales.

Well, I'm glad I managed to crank another tall tale out. Did I tell you how nice it is to have a clear head?

Ciao!

_{The actual other pilot's name has been changed to Murphy in honor of "Murphy's Law".}