Fly Boy ?????

From: artkramr

No kiddiing. We had 30 seconds before the B-26 dove for the the bottom.

Here's a description of a 310th B-25 ditching episode on what was expected to
be a milk run over an airfield the krauts were just constructing:

Joey spent most of the sightseeing tour in the gun turret bubble. Corrie
looked out the waist gun window for E-boats, fighters, sharks. He was just
beginning to relax when Ed called over the intercom, "Over the target in
fifteen. Sam, check the bomb bay after we get off the target to be sure a bomb
hasn't hung up." He looked out the window and watched the coast approach. They
hit the IP and turned for the bomb run.
Suddenly the plane began to shudder. Ack-ack was coming from all directions;
black puffs surrounded the plane. Corrie could actually see the red center of
the explosions and *hear* them they were so close. Shrapnel was banging
through the airplane. He thought, "My God, we can't make it through this!" As
he looked back, the first bombs were beginning to explode as they hit the
ground. The plane's track through the sky was marked with the black puffs of
88mm.
As they cleared the airfield, the ground fire stopped as suddenly as it had
started. Ed was pouring on the coal and the crew could feel the old girl
accelerate as they banked off in a dive to pick up speed and get the hell out
of there. The other five planes in our box were right with us in the turn and
dive, the pilots maintaining perfect station.
It was time to relax for a boring trip home. Corrie returned to the radio
compartment, turned on the transmitter, let down the trail wire antenna.
In the engineer's compartment behind the cockpit, Sam was not relaxing. The
port engine was rough and hadn't responded well to the advanced throttle
setting. Oil pressure was normal. When he made a visual check, he noticed oil
dribbling from it. Sam leaned into the pilot's compartment and told Ed,
"There's considerable oil streaming from the left engine. Want me to call
Corrie and ask him for an escort plane?
Ed glanced over at the leaking engine briefly and said, "These old babies will
fly half way round the world on one engine. We'll make it OK.
"Bull ****," Sam thought to himself, but said nothing. He and Charlie, the
co-pilot, glanced at each other and Charlie slipped his parachute over his Mae
West. Ed looked at him, hit the intercom button. "Corrie, we have an oil leak
in the port engine; get on the key and send SOS and position reports for a Cat
every five minutes. Bob, keep Corrie up-to-speed on position."
"About fifty miles off target, Bob cut in on the intercom."
"Roger."
Corrie turned the transmitter to the key and began sending SOSes but could tell
by his headset noise that he wasn't putting out a signal. He kept sending.
Soon he could hear radio traffic. He tuned the set, turned up the volume and
in the clear hammered the key: "SOS. Ed's plane on single engine sixty miles
off target." He listened. The channel was almost clear. "Mayday, mayday, Ed's
plane on single engine, sixty miles off target."
Finally a response came in, from a British unit, who politely asked who "Ed"
was. But at least the Corrie knew their plight was known to someone.
Up front, Charlie suggested opening the cowls on both engines for maximum
cooling and Sam agreed. Charlie referred to their B-25 as an "old tub,"
wondering how far she would get, and Ed responded that "she is a good
single-engine plane and we can throw out a lot of crap. Call Corrie and Joey
and have them throw out everything they can lift. We'll make it home. We have
to. I have a comic book I haven't read yet."
Outside there was brilliant Mediterranean sun, the sea very smooth, little
apparent wind. Ed cut power to the bad engine and hit the feather button. The
propeller did not feather. Instead, it windmilled and sent heavy vibrations
through the plane. Ed yelled to Charlie, "Help me hold the controls!" The
plane was about 500 feet high and wracked by violent shuddering. There was real
danger an engine or wing might tear loose.
"Prepare to ditch!" Ed yelled. "Charlie, call Joey and Corrie!" Ed gave the
thumbs down to Sam and Bob (who had crawled up into the engineer's
compartment).
The vibrations increased in intensity as the plane neared the sea. "Aren't you
cutting power?" Charlie yelled at Ed. "No! Pull the escape hatch after we
hit!"
Both pilots were forcing full right rudder and watching the sea rushing toward
them. No one remembered to close the cowl flaps. Ed cut the right engine just
as the plane slammed into the water, tail low. There was a thunderous noise
and the nose plunged under the surface. Water smashed into the compartment
with incredible force. Then there was sudden, absolute silence. The plane was
tilted at about a 30 degree angle down, with those forward all well below
water. Charlie recovered first and pulled the overhead escape hatch. Ed went
out first, followed by Charlie. Sam's Mae West snagged something, trapping him
and Bob stayed under to help him clear it, boosted him out of the hatch and
then followed.
When Charlie called to tell Joey and Corrie to dump everything they could, Joey
stripped the two fifties out of the turret, Corrie tossed the IFF and all other
radio equipment except the transceiver; he kept using the key. Joey even
tossed the life raft through the hatch. Corrie reached a hand out too late to
stop him, but still shouted, "Hey, we're going to be needing that!" He kept
sending but was unable to reach 310th ground station; they were probably too
low.
When the plane began to shudder, Corrie told Joey to sit with his back to the
bomb bay bulkhead and protect his head with his parachute. Corrie reeled in
the trailing wire antenna, shut off the tranceiver and joined Joey. They were
already in position when Charlie called "Prepare to ditch." Joey muttered, "No
kidding, buster."
When the plane hit they experienced first one crash, a short glide, and then a
second, harder smash. No one up front had noticed anything but one solid smash.
Then all was silence except for the sound of water dripping and waves lapping
against the side of the plane.
Corrie reached above the radio compartment and pulled on the life raft release.
It did not move. He called Joey to help but despite the efforts of both, it
would not budge.
Water began to fill the compartment through the lower escape hatch. Joey, who
announced at this juncture that he couldn't swim, refused to dive through it
and get out. Corrie dove through, swam to the surface, and climbed to the top
of the fuselage to release the raft using the exterior handle. Sam climbed up
to help. The handle wouldn't budge, then snapped off clean.
As the rear compartment filled with water, Joey inflated his Mae West, thus
trapping himself completely. Hearing his cries for help, Bob dove under the
plane, up through the escape hatch, deflated his vest and steered him back out
the escape hatch.
The crew gathered and swam away from the plane. About two minutes had passed.
They watched the tail slowly elevate to the vertical then slide with scarcely a
ripple under the waves.
The crew was alone on the wide, wide sea, no life raft, the one guy who
couldn't swim with a deflated life vest. Ed had a bad cut across the bridge of
his nose and forehead.
Moral sank fast, until Charlie quipped, "Anyone got a knife. I don't want Ed
to be the only one to get a Purple Heart!"
Each Mae West had a dye packet. After floating in silence for some minutes,
Bob said, "I think I'll open a dye packet. When he tried to tear it off, his
vest ripped and everyone could hear the air hiss out. The vest was ruined.
It was at this point that Charlie thought to asked Corrie if he had made
contact with a Cat and Corrie answered no, only with some Brit. There was no
further conversation. Just the sound of waves lapping.
After an hour, the sound of engines were heard. A flight of B-25s passed to
the north. They continued unwaveringly.
Then engines again, another flight, almost directly overhead.
Everyone--carefully--remove his dye packet and spilled it into the sea, then
began splashing wildly as the planes thundered overhead. They passed by, then
one peeled off and circled the crew, who all yelled their heads off. The B-25
waggled its wings before flying off. A few minutes later a flight of P-47s
appeared and took station over the crew. After about half an hour from low out
of the West a PBY lumbered into view, circled and landed with matronly aplomb,
taxied up to the crew. The blue navy duds of the crewman who leaned out the
bubbled and one-armedly hoisted each of them aboard looked beautiful. The Cat
trundled into the air while the crew sipped Navy coffee and dripped sea water.
Three hours after ditching they were back on dry land. Forty hours later they
were flying another mission.



Chris Mark

"Steven P. McNicoll" wrote:

I would think the operator would have better information on the ditching
behavior than would the manufacturer.

Glad to see you finally coming around Steven. There's no substitute
for experience but when I asked you how many hours you have in
a certain type your non sequitur response was "irrelevant."

"Mike Marron" wrote in message
...

Glad to see you finally coming around Steven. There's no substitute
for experience but when I asked you how many hours you have in
a certain type your non sequitur response was "irrelevant."


Your message makes no sense whatsoever.

"Steven P. McNicoll" wrote:
"Mike Marron" wrote:

Glad to see you finally coming around Steven. There's no substitute
for experience but when I asked you how many hours you have in
a certain type your non sequitur response was "irrelevant."

Your message makes no sense whatsoever.

You must have a short memory:

I said:

"Please post your number of hours logged in experimental trikes
right here --____________"

You responded:

"Zero, and irrelevant."

In any event, now that you've acknowledged the priceless value of
experience, when it comes to ditching an Avenger I would agree with
you and give the nod to those whom have actual experience successfully
ditching the airplane in real world situations over what the book
says.

Of course, like many things in aviation it's not quite as cut and
dried as that and perhaps a combination of the book technique
and my fellow squadron mate's technique would be best. But having
ditched an aircraft myself, I still can't say for sure if I'd use the
same technique again in the event I find myself in the same situation
once again.

"Mike Marron" wrote in message
...
"Steven P. McNicoll" wrote:
"Mike Marron" wrote:

Glad to see you finally coming around Steven. There's no substitute
for experience but when I asked you how many hours you have in
a certain type your non sequitur response was "irrelevant."

Your message makes no sense whatsoever.

You must have a short memory:

Non-sequitur.

"Mike Marron" wrote in message
...

You must have a short memory:


I have an excellent memory.



I said:

"Please post your number of hours logged in experimental trikes
right here --____________"

You responded:

"Zero, and irrelevant."

In any event, now that you've acknowledged the priceless value of
experience, when it comes to ditching an Avenger I would agree with
you and give the nod to those whom have actual experience successfully
ditching the airplane in real world situations over what the book
says.

Of course, like many things in aviation it's not quite as cut and
dried as that and perhaps a combination of the book technique
and my fellow squadron mate's technique would be best. But having
ditched an aircraft myself, I still can't say for sure if I'd use the
same technique again in the event I find myself in the same situation
once again.


Different issue. Experience ditching an Avenger obviously provides one with
knowledge of the ditching characteristics of an Avenger. But logging hours
in experimental trikes does not provide one with knowledge of the FARs, as
you so ably demonstrated with your messages last month.

"Steven P. McNicoll" wrote:

Different issue.

But same principle relating to the importance of experience.

Experience ditching an Avenger obviously provides one with
knowledge of the ditching characteristics of an Avenger.

Er um, exactly what I said.

But logging hours in experimental trikes does not provide one
with knowledge of the FARs, as you so ably demonstrated with
your messages last month.

Like I said Stevie, you're living in the land of Oz and are more full
of **** than a brontasaurus with no ass if you think that you, with
your basic VFR-only private pilot's license (?) and paltry amount of
experience is in the same ball park with ANY CFII or A&P mechanic
(not just me). Reality check!

What, do you think my ultralight trike came out of its shipping crate
with an N-number magically stuck on it just for me? Somebody had to
educate the feds about these newfangled, tailless flying machines
because like you, they didn't have the first clue even what a "trike"
is...much less how to go about N-numbering one!

And then somebody had to know how to properly fill out FAA Forms
8130-6, and -12, have them notorized and send them off to Oklahoma
City. Same goes for AC Form 8050-3, -1 which had to be signed and
dated as evidence that I have complied with the registration
requirements per FAR Part 47.

And who do you suppose had to enclose 3-view drawings complete
w/photos of the A/C as required by FAR section 21.193? The Great Oz?

And who do you think weighed the A/C to make sure it was within CG
limits and sent a copy of that information to the feds in Oklahoma
City as well? Santa Claus?

What about the all the required placards and markings, who do you
s'pose plastered them all over the A/C? Mrs. Claus? Santa's reindeer?
Perhaps one of Santa's elves?

Only AFTER all these items were done could I even begin to think about
logging hours in my experimental trike as you said above. Hell, you
didn't even know that experimental trikes EXISTED....much less that I
happened to be one of the handful of pilots whose not only
knowledgable enough with the FAR's, but motivated enough to take
a common ultralight and register it as an experimental so as allow me
to operate it just like I would operate a Cessna 210.

Perhaps it's time that you grow up and give credit where credit's due
Steve. Just because you've wasted all these years arguing on Usenet
about whether or not the Wrights were the first to achieve powered
flight or Yeager was the first through the mythical "sound barrier,"
some of us have actually been busy building and flying and
accomplishing things. You're a talker, not a doer.

BTW, how many experimental A/C have YOU built and N-numbered
Steve? Anyone, even my 9-year old nephew, can simply copy and paste
the FAR's off the web like you did while attempting to show how
knowledgable you *think* you are.

"Mike Marron" wrote in message
news

But same principle relating to the importance of experience.


Nope.



Like I said Stevie, you're living in the land of Oz and are more full
of **** than a brontasaurus with no ass if you think that you, with
your basic VFR-only private pilot's license (?) and paltry amount of
experience is in the same ball park with ANY CFII or A&P mechanic
(not just me). Reality check!


You have demonstrated a poor knowledge of the FARs, the inability to think
logically, a huge ego, and a lack of maturity. You know nothing of my
knowledge and experience level.

"Mike Marron" wrote in message
...
"Steven P. McNicoll" wrote:

I would think the operator would have better information on the ditching
behavior than would the manufacturer.

Glad to see you finally coming around Steven. There's no substitute
for experience but when I asked you how many hours you have in
a certain type your non sequitur response was "irrelevant."

Lune.

"Tarver Engineering" wrote:
"Mike Marron" wrote:
"Steven P. McNicoll" wrote:

I would think the operator would have better information on the ditching
behavior than would the manufacturer.

Glad to see you finally coming around Steven. There's no substitute
for experience but when I asked you how many hours you have in
a certain type your non sequitur response was "irrelevant."

Lune.

All great men are dying, and I am rather sick myself.

(BTW, you misspelled "loon")