C-130

There is a low rumble somewhere in the distance.  It is unmistakable if you’ve spent most of your adult life around it.  It doesn’t increase, nor does it decrease.  It is just there in the background.  It is the sound of a C-130 bringing its four Allison turboprop engines to life in preparation for a flight.  Somewhere in the world, as you read this, there will be a C-130 starting engines.  Some crew will be preparing for their mission.

The C-130 has been in continuous production since 1955, and in that time the aircraft that was originally built to provide the US Army with tactical airlift has been adapted for almost any mission you can imagine.

They have been used to snatch men from the ground with a system called sky hook, they have caught satellites falling from the heavens with the All American system, they have flown low, dragging a hook to have cargo pulled out of them to support Kah San, or they have had their cargo pulled from them with extraction parachutes.

The aircraft has landed on an aircraft carrier, and Antarctic.  It has been equipped with rockets powerful enough to lift it off the ground in 300 feet when it weighted 175,000 pounds or stop in in the same distance.   Some have been modified to be the most accurate and deadly close air support platform known, and are in continuous demand when special operations teams need help.  Others have been equipped with special radars allowing them to fly 250 feet above the ground on nights so dark and weather so thick you can’t see the hand in front of your face.  Other's search for survivors, or refuel other aircraft needing fuel to complete their mission.

It has sniffed the air looking for radiation, and it has dropped the biggest conventional bombs ever made.  But perhaps it is best known as being the first aircraft sent to help with disaster relief.  It has dropped food to starving people on every continent and it has brought medical teams to victims of floods, earthquakes, tsunami’s, droughts, and civil wars.

It has fought wild fires, and feed starving cattle cut off by blizzards.   When villages are isolated by weather the C-130 and its crews find ways to get to wherever they need to be.

When Lockheed built the C-130 they gave it a name, I doubt anyone appreciated how appropriate it would be.  Hercules, the Roman and Greek hero known for his strength and perseverance, I think the C-130 has certainly lived up to his legends. 

Things You Probably Shouldn’t Do While Flying Air Force Airplanes

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.

I Want Them to Get Off Here!

It was a dark fall night in North Carolina.  We were practicing a fairly standard airfield assault operation.  Since the Army was in charge it always worked exactly the same way.  Everyone took off out of Pope AFB, flew around for about 30 minutes and then went into a holding pattern about 8 miles north of the airfield.  The first plane in was flown by a guy named “Trash.”  He was supposed to be holding at 1500’ with the second aircraft holding 500’ above him and then eight more C-130’s stacked at 500’ intervals straight up.  The second crew was commanded by a guy named “Macho.”  It takes about 3 1/2  minutes for the plane to transit those last 8 miles as it starts at 180 knots and then slows to the 100(ish) knots at landing.

The plan was the first two MC-130 aircraft would land, offload a runway security team and then next eight C-130’s would bring in an assault force to go do their army thing.

At the time Trash was supposed to leave holding the crew was distracted and didn’t leave.  A minute later Macho departed on his way in.  Trash saw Macho leave and realized they were all screwed up so he pulled out and went screaming as fast as he could below Macho trying to get into the runway on time.

I had planned this mission so I knew exactly what was supposed to happen.  I was standing next to the Army Major General as we looked to the North for the infrared landing lights to come on.  We would generally turn on the lights about a minute out.  I kept switching from the night vision goggles to my watch when the lights didn’t come on as expected.

After about 30 seconds of nervousness, the lights flash on and then about 15 seconds later we see the airplane land.  I realize something is amiss because lights and landing are too close together and he is about 30 seconds late on landing (well outside the 15-second standard).  As I watch things get really crazy from that point on.

Our tactic called for the aircrew to open the back door and lower the ramp to horizontal as the aircraft slowed past 50 knots.  This keyed the Army Rangers to start the engines on their quad runners and motorcycles.  When the aircraft comes to a complete stop the ramp goes the rest of the way down, and off they go to their assigned positions.

As I am watching, all the sudden the back of the airplane explodes in a shower of sparks and people start coming out of the aircraft while it is still moving at 50 knots.  The motorcycles come out and tumble down the runway, the quad runner comes out and does a 360-degree turn, people are just tumbling off the aircraft as it slows.

Finally, the plane comes to a stop in front of the General and me; one solitary Ranger jumps off, looks around, and runs off into the darkness.  Looking back along the runway we can see people moving off the runway as #2 prepares to land.

The General was from Tennessee and had a deep rich drawl.  What he said next was, I think, the greatest understatement ever made directly to me.  He turned and said “Welllll, that was about the most impressive offload I’ve ever seen, but Major, I want them all to get off here!  At that, he points his finger at the end of the runway, as he turns and leaves.

The Hercules raises its ramp and taxis to its assigned parking space to await the time to fly back.  While there they check for damage and report the ramp is pretty torn up, but there doesn’t appear to be any fluids leaking.  I think they flew back to Pope but I’m a little fuzzy on that part.  There was about $50,000 in damage and we may have had to bring in the maintenance team before we flew it.

At debrief, Trash explained they thought they had another minute in holding when Macho left, the Navigators had miscalculated the departure time.  On landing the loadmaster was scrambling to make sure he was ready as soon as they stopped, but in his hast, he put the ramp all the way to the ground, and once the Rangers started moving he couldn’t pull it back up.  I was a planner then, and when this crew arrived they had told me they would take over since they were the first team and would have to check all my work.  They had changed the run in time and I could only smile inside.  

Tinian

North of Guam, where America's day starts,  are the Marianna's.  One of the islands is Tinian.  It is most famous as the launch point for the Enola Gay and Bockscar.  In 1985(ish) I learned an important Physics lesson although I was just a bystander.

For the record, two aircraft cannot occupy the same space at the same time.  I think it all has to do with the density of atoms, or the time-space continuum, or crappy command and control.

We were practicing a night airfield seizure, like Entebbe, but we had a much bigger force.  There were helicopters, and about eight C-130s scheduled to land at North Field.  It was a clear calm night and everything should have been pretty straightforward except...

When the first helo arrived at the airfield and opened the door to lower the "Fast Rope" one of the combat controllers actually beat it the ground. He fell at least 50 feet on and into the coral runway.  Needless to say, he wasn't having a good night.  The helicopter landed the medics and then went to the approach end of the runway to wait for him to be stabilized for evacuation.

Meanwhile, on the C-130 command and control net, the Colonel unaware of this problem, decided to tell the C-130's to land early.  So they start in from their holding point.  We are doing all this in complete darkness using night vision goggles.  As the first 130 starts to flare for his landing he catches a glint off the rotor blades of the helicopter.  He firewalls the throttles to go around, but the momentum of the plane carries it down into the rotor blades of the Blackhawk, knocking it over and shredding the left main landing gear on the 130.

Once the "knock it off" call was made we started sorting out the pieces.  Another helicopter brought in a medical team to evacuate the army guys shaken up in the crash, and the combat controller who's shattered arm had been extracted from the coral runway.  As the MC-130 crew sorted out their problems, we decided not to foam the runway at Anderson and they came in and landed, keeping the left gear off the ground as long as they could. When they set it down they ground looped about 90 degrees.  I think the Rangers in the back were very grateful to be on firm land.

For those who may not be very familiar with military training, I would offer this one thought.  What we do in training has to be tough and is by its nature risky because war is very unforgiving.  We were all very fortunate that evening not to lose a lot of soldiers and airman.

Have a happy New Year.

Bovine Course Control

When I was a lot younger, flying C-130’s in West Texas we used to practice our tactical navigation by flying low-level routes around Abilene.   There were about four routes, varying in length from 40 minutes to an hour and a half.  Every day Monday to Friday anywhere from 4 to 16 aircraft would take off and fly the route, eventually ending up back at the base where we would drop our practice loads.  We had morning, afternoon and, occasionally, evening flights.

Now lest you think we must have disturbed a lot of people, let me assure you these flights were over vast open rangeland.  Our checkpoints were road intersections, bridges, or some such permanent landmark, and for the most part, the only things underneath us were oil wells and cows.  My job was to guide the aircraft, to make sure we arrived at each checkpoint on time so that we would successfully reach the drop zone.  Since all of West Texas looked pretty-much flat and brown, this could be a challenge if the winds were different then you expected or you missed a checkpoint.  I learned early on the cows were my friends.  If I was on-course the cattle were familiar with the noise of the aircraft passing over.  They would continue to graze, eat, poop or do whatever else cattle do in West Texas.  If we were not on course the cattle would be startled and start running in all directions.  When that happened we knew we were off-course and needed to change direction.  Those who figured this out were successful.  The ones who didn’t would be asked to find a new line of work.

It has dawned on me this is really a metaphor of life and politics.  I will be interested to see if those who survived reelection will have noticed the voters running around in all directions and realize they need to change course?