One upon a time in a far away land a young group of men took off from Karachi, Pakistan headed for Incirlik, Turkey, a distance of about 2300 nautical miles, or about 8 to 9 hours flying time. We were flying airways, at night, in the part of the world where, at the time, not much was happening.
As we flew over Iran there were long legs were you couldn’t talk with ground controllers and there was no one else in the air. About three hours into the flight the aircraft commander decided he was going to take a nap and crawled up into the bunk the C-130 has. (I’ve looked for a picture of this arrangement, but apparently it isn’t interesting enough for anyone to have posted it.) The bunk is about two feet from the top of the aircraft and like a sleeper car on a train it offers just enough room to crawl in and sleep, if you can put the noise of the aircraft in the background. The head of the bunk folds out of the way when not in use, and if you stick some publications in the crack it can be angled up to create a more comfortable arrangement.
This left the copilot in one seat and I climbed into the other since the navigation was on airways and we needed to have both pilot seats occupied. After about 30 minutes we got a little bored with the steady drone of the aircraft and started looking for something we could do to make the flight a little bit more interesting. We were flying across Iran at about FL 250 (about 25,000 feet) and thought it might be fun to see how high we could get the C-130E. We didn’t have a lot of cargo so a quick check of the books indicated we might be able to make FL 330. For us in the old C-130 that is nose bleed territory. We talked with Tehran control and they approved our climb. They did ask us to confirm what type of aircraft we were in but after that we were good to go.
We pitched the plane up to best climb speed and started on up. We made FL290 without any problem, and then up to 30. As we approached FL310 we started to run out of energy and the airspeed started slipping back. We would level out, regain our speed and try it again. Finally Tehran started asking if we were going to make 330 or not. We put them off for a few minutes and finally admitted defeat, pushed up to FL310 so we could say we were there and then got clearance to drop back to FL290.
After a little while it was time to go wake up the aircraft commander so he could relieve the copilot. I got out of the seat, and went back to wake him up. Before I did I looked down on my lunch from the Embassy in Karachi and noticed the hard-boiled egg. All my friends had told me that if you put an egg up to the sextant port you could suck it right out of the airplane. There is a huge pressure differential between the inside of a pressurized airplane and the thin atmosphere almost six miles up. The sextant port was about two feet from my sleeping Captains head, and is a small opening where we would hang the sextant for celestial navigation. It had a lever that opened a sliding trap door so we could extend the periscope portion of the sextant. So I figured before I woke him I would put the egg overboard. What none of my friends told me was how loud it would be when you put a silver dollar size hole in the airplane and cabin air rushes out.
As the egg exits the aircraft to the noise of a rapid rush of air (think about the loudest industrial vacuum cleaner you’ve ever heard), the aircraft commander bolts upright in reaction to what sounds like a huge problem. He slams his head on the ceiling (remember 2 feet from bed to ceiling?) and falls back into the bed. Ken was normally a pretty quiet and mild mannered guy. I don’t think he was very happy with me right then, at least the number of profanities he used would suggest he was just a tad upset.
After we get him calmed down, out of the bunk and he finds out we are at 29,000 feet he starts to figure out going to sleep and leaving a couple of lieutenants unsupervised was probably poor judgment on his part. The rest of the flight was kind of quiet except for an occasional “if you ever” coming out of the AC.
6 comments:
That story reminded me of two things... one, just about everything that can exit a C-130 through the sextant port has done so... a roll of toilet paper was a memorable item; and two, during my first flight across the Atlantic as a young Copilot, I had dozed off for a few minutes while in the seat. I looked across to the AC seat and noticed the AC was asleep, with the aircraft on autopilot. I then looked behind to my left and noticed the FE was asleep. And yes, I then looked behind to my right, and the Nav was out cold. After that incident, I never slept on a C-130 as a primary crewmember again.
Confession is good for the soul....do you feel better now?
I do. But watching the AC slam into the ceiling was pretty darn funny.
We had the same sextant port on the C-141. We had a vacuum hose we could attach to it to vacuum out the flight deck. They stopped doing it because the vertical stab was getting damaged by items getting sucked out. I was the only person awake on the flight deck many times. We had to plot a celestial fix every 30 minutes over water. We didn't have time to go to sleep.
We had the same sextant port on the C-141. We had a vacuum hose we could attach to it to vacuum out the flight deck. They stopped doing it because the vertical stab was getting damaged by items getting sucked out. I was the only person awake on the flight deck many times. We had to plot a celestial fix every 30 minutes over water. We didn't have time to go to sleep.
I can neither confirm or deny that on various missions between Okinawa AB and Misawa AB, my KC-135 aircrew would cheat about a mile left of course and practice the Enola Gay’s bomb run on Hiroshima. Complete with simulated release. It was in good fun. (Our flight, that is.)
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