Bush's choice of silk or ditch. I would rather ditch than bale,

--cut--

I agree...we flew a lot of hours over the Atlantic, both North
and South and not a few over the Pacific as well, most of it
below 1000 feet

In P-3s, slamming along in the whiteout "somewhere" down close to the water...
or eating saltspray in the doorway of an H-2. Folks thought I was brain dead
to ask for H-2s, supposedly little killers, but my experiences in P-3s led me
to believe that in extremis, I had some control of my fate in a helo. While on
maritime patrol in a big Orion, I felt that I was one of the obliterati if we
ever crashed.

One doesn't want to imagine trying
to survive down there in a 40-50 knot gale with a continuous
expanse of whitecaps from horizon to horizon in all directions.

Or trying to do it alone, which is what happens if the crew bails out and gets
separated.


I'm sure that you can easily agree Gordon. shudder

frickin a. I'm picturing the Sea of Ohkotsk at the moment - always just a few
feet away, waiting with its cold embrace.

They had been planting a field of sonobuoys (about mid Atlantic)
when one stuck in it's chute halfway out. It went just far enough
to uncover the vanes which, being dragged along at ~170 Knots
spun at a great rate till the bolt holding the hub on wore off
and the vanes spun up into the a/c belly, slashed through the
skin and cut off a torque tube used to control the elevators.

Gotta love those rotochutes. We launched buoys horizontally, out of a box
pinned to the fuselage floor against the back of our seats - with a CAD (16
little gunpowder charges each the size of your fist) about a foot behind our
backs. BA-A-M - thick smell of cordite. Look out the window of my station and
see a 3-foot cylinder packed with sensitive sonar equipment falling away toward
the water 200 feet below. But wait - this one doesn't have the familiar white
parachute,
its OH CRAP, ITS ONE OF THOSE POSSESSED THINGS! We are flying along with a
"friend", a well-wound up rotochute sonobuoy (SSQ-36 if you're interested) that
had caught some bizarre lift and, buzzing like a hornet, it shot past below us
at an angle that made it look as if it was trying to clip our tail.

mutters "You've killed us, you arrogant ass!"

"What, SENSO?"

"Nothing sir. Buoy in the water, up and sweet."

This caused no end of concern to the cockpit crew who all had
suggestions ranging from "Putter in the water" to "head West"
(home) to "head for Lajes" (closest land) and several other
wildassed suggestions.

That was my job on the crew. In a Star Trek universe, I would be the guy
killed before the opening credits.

Anyway, it was decided to head (gently) for Lajes (good l o n g runway, plus
good wx etc). The crew experimented with flaps and power to replace the
function of the elevators (cautiously). Anyway they had a nearly uneventful
landing at the Azores.
(albeit with quite tired sphincters)

doubtless.

My point is that only the crew involved has enough facts to make
the decision required about the best course to take. That's why
the buck stops at the Crew Captain's seat. It certainly doesn't
preclude the rest of the crew making suggestions nor him using
(or not) any/all of them (CRM) but the FINAL decision must be his
alone.

My advice was not usually taken. LOL "Aim for the bridge of that carrier
if we can't make it back to our own ship, but don't just GIVE the Soviets our
helo!" [Two helmeted face turn to face me, as if I was an alien or
something...?]

G