Not sure what category this one falls into, but . . .
In the early 1970s, a VA-95 crew launched on a night VFR bombing mission,
lugging two MERs worth of the mighty MK-76 air-to-ground weapon against the
treacherous Commie bus hulks infesting the Plaster City target area.
Our Lizards checked in, acquired the "target" and commenced several
satisfying runs punctuated with the appropriate number of flashes, and
departed the area with all MERs empty.
However their return was greeted by a delegation of senior folks who
immediately escorted them to one of those rooms with a long green felt
covering on the table. Seems that, while they had dumped their ordnance on
the range, the "target" they'd hit was a group of campers who had sneaked
onto the range VERY close to the real target and whose campfires lay in
approximately the same general "X" pattern as the night bullseye markings.
Fortunately, no one was hurt. But there were several vehicles and camper
shells that were much the worse for wear. The whole thing officially ended
in one of those "we won't sue you for violating the law (and being stupid)
if you won't sue us for poor target recognition skills" agreements.
Epilogue: During the one-day safety standown following the Camper Attack,
Eric-The-Lizard-AI-Guy posted an additional set of recognition photos in the
ready room:
Winnebago, Leer, etc.
Owl sends.
--
Mike Kanze
"I never hated a man enough to give his diamonds back."
- Zsa Zsa Gabor
"Gordon" wrote in message
...
Everyone knows that one wipes out a career full of attaboys. What is your
favorite non-fatal "aw ****" story? I thought we could also make a thread
and
tell about the best flying each of us encountered.
On Ike in 1980, we had Whales. Either one or two of the massive things,
but
they were infrequent visitors and our flight deck crew adapted to their
periodic arrivals and departures. On one of the evolutions where the A-3
was
aboard, the poderous thing trundled over to the port bow cat and got ready
to
go, but went down for a black box. The "board guy" (never knew what they
called the man that held up the board telling both the pilot and the
catapault
crew how much that particular aircraft weighed) did his thing but the
launch
didn't happen. The director taxiied the giant clear of the cat, allowing
the
A-7 waiting behind the JBD to slide up and take its place. The A-3
cleared the
area with some difficulty (manuevering a bull in a china shop is a good
mental
picture of the situation), and all I can think of is that this unfamiliar
sight
temporarily distracted the cat crew. At any rate, the A-7, weighing
probably
about 1/3rd of that flying brontosaurus, was now sitting on a cat set to
launch
something two thirds larger than himself. The mistake was not caught and
in a
flash, literally, the A-7 was flung skyward with quite a bit more oomph
than
was necessary - in fact, it looked like it was shot out of a cannon! The
force
was enough to detach the extremely large belly pan underneath the Corsair
and
several panels came off in the slipstream. The pilot, pinned backwards in
his
seat, must have wondered what hit him, but he kept the flailing A-7 out of
the
water and made one of the quickest patterns I've seen, bringing it
straight
back around to land, approximately three to five minutes after launch.
Hitting
the deck loosened up other panels and left a trail of zeus fittings and
other
hardware bouncing down the deck. The pilot, glaring, stomped off the deck
to
find a Cat&Arresting Gear officer to have for lunch...
Now, for Bravo Zulus, I have to mention HSL-33's LCDR Steele - flying off
the
coast of San Diego, he had a rotor blade come apart, slinging parts in all
directions and creating such massive vibrations that the crewman was
nearly
knocked out by his own helmet. The copilot was thrown up and down so
heavily
that he could not maintain grasp on the controls. As the crippled H-2
fell out
of the sky, two out of the three man crew knew they were about to die.
But
LCDR John Steele, Man of Action, grabbed the 'snake by the balls and
guided it
down safely to a "Look Mom!" landing in the middle of hundreds of scantily
clad
beach-goers on Silver Strand beach. No injuries, helo intact. Try that,
only
using four out of five rotor blades! (I don't know about the other
pilots, but
Steele never had to beg for a crewman to ride with him again!) Later,
this
same magnificent aviator guided an H-46 down onto the deck of a passing
ship (I
think USS Reid?) thousands of feet below him after his Seaknight nearly
broke
in half in flight. Again, no deaths. On the pilot scale (1 being Lt.
"Iiiiii've g-g-g-got c-c-control" McDonald and 10 being Bill Dana),
Commander
Steele was up there with CDR John Gana at about an 8.5. Steele wasn't
lucky -
just very well equipped mentally for just about any emergency. My kind of
pilot!
v/r
Gordon
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