A few years back Les and I took the BK to Beaufort to the airshow, and watched a young Blue Angel pilot burn it in. We went looking for him, and landed and walked the ground where he died. It was a significant emotional event for me, and for Les too I suspect. After that happened I kept thinking about his parents - what was going through his mom's head. They were at the show and watched their son die. I thought about something Les said to me as we flew over the path his jet cleared on the way in. Les opined that Kevin rode the aircraft in to avoid letting it kill people on the ground. You may remember some time after that a Navy guy punched out of a jet out West that killed a man's family on the ground. It was ugly. It's what happens when you eject out of several ton's of metal moving at several hundred miles an hour over a populated area. So anyway, I am thinking that this mother is absolutely crushed, and has nothing to comfort her. So I wrote her a letter.
I told her, amongst other things, that Les and I decided that Kevin deliberately stayed with that jet to avoid hurting anyone.
Was it a kind sentiment or the truth?
God only knows.
We - the Meducare family - also bought Kevin's parents flowers on the first anniversary of his death. She did write me back and tell me what that letter meant to her.
Why am I telling you this? Because Jeanne just told me that during her visit to the Beaufort airshow yesterday, a Blue Angel on a golf-cart rode up to her and asked if they were Omniflight. She said yes. He went away and came back with a signed picture of the team/aircraft. It said thanks for what we do.
The favor has been returned and the faith has been kept.
pic
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Concerning a Crash
The only thing I can add about Patrick, Claxton, and Diana's crash in Georgetown is that I knew two of them, and liked them. Patrick was a retired marine, had moved to the Myrtle Beach area and bought a home, had recently had a baby, and was a "motivated troop" when it came to aggressively pursuing flight opportunities. On independant bases, all involved know that flight volume equals job security, and the conventional wisdom is that it takes 30 flights a month to stay in business. Patrick set about ensuring that Conway performed enough transports to keep the base open. He was a capable pilot, had a great sense of humor, and was very popular.
I briefed him on base manager duties when he assumed that position. As we in Charleston shared radio nets with the Conway team, we knew what they were doing, when, where, and in what weather conditions. Some of the flights they pursued caused us to "raise our eybrows" at each other in Charleston, and on one occasion one of our pilots even tried to raise a "safety" flag. But at the end of the day we tended to our business and Conway tended to theirs. I regret this now. As a guy with 10 years of experience in this business, I should have seen where things were headed and raised my voice to bring attention to the situation. The night that Patrick and his crew crashed, Charleston pilot Tim Lilley was in Greenville, stuck for weather, and monitored them leaving Charleston toward Conway. Tim called Pat on the 800 radio, advised him that he had just checked weather and seen a storm moving into their path. Tim suggested they stay at the Charleston crew quarters, since they were going to be empty all night. Pat refused and advised that they were heading home. They never made it.
The investigation on that crash is not yet complete, so no definitive answers can be given, but the initial report does state that the aircraft flew toward an area of convective activity (or words to that effect). Witnesses on the ground saw the aircraft fly overhead at low altitude just prior to the crash. The training point to emphasize here is that we never have to press on. If someone on the ground could see the aircraft, persons on the aircraft could be assumed to be able to see the ground. An off airport landing is better than pressing on into a bad situation. We as AMRM instructors want to drive this home, and we want to drive this point into medical crews as well as pilots. While the pilot should be the first to realize that a bad situation is developing, sometimes we get tunnel vision, or fixation, or suffer some other lapse. Perhaps we succumb to perceived pressure from "above" to "get er done". Regardless, someone on that aircraft needs to speak up and call a halt...
I briefed him on base manager duties when he assumed that position. As we in Charleston shared radio nets with the Conway team, we knew what they were doing, when, where, and in what weather conditions. Some of the flights they pursued caused us to "raise our eybrows" at each other in Charleston, and on one occasion one of our pilots even tried to raise a "safety" flag. But at the end of the day we tended to our business and Conway tended to theirs. I regret this now. As a guy with 10 years of experience in this business, I should have seen where things were headed and raised my voice to bring attention to the situation. The night that Patrick and his crew crashed, Charleston pilot Tim Lilley was in Greenville, stuck for weather, and monitored them leaving Charleston toward Conway. Tim called Pat on the 800 radio, advised him that he had just checked weather and seen a storm moving into their path. Tim suggested they stay at the Charleston crew quarters, since they were going to be empty all night. Pat refused and advised that they were heading home. They never made it.
The investigation on that crash is not yet complete, so no definitive answers can be given, but the initial report does state that the aircraft flew toward an area of convective activity (or words to that effect). Witnesses on the ground saw the aircraft fly overhead at low altitude just prior to the crash. The training point to emphasize here is that we never have to press on. If someone on the ground could see the aircraft, persons on the aircraft could be assumed to be able to see the ground. An off airport landing is better than pressing on into a bad situation. We as AMRM instructors want to drive this home, and we want to drive this point into medical crews as well as pilots. While the pilot should be the first to realize that a bad situation is developing, sometimes we get tunnel vision, or fixation, or suffer some other lapse. Perhaps we succumb to perceived pressure from "above" to "get er done". Regardless, someone on that aircraft needs to speak up and call a halt...
Putting a Chinook in the water, or not...
After getting signed off to instruct Amphib Two, which is what the video is showing, I had a couple of guys with me out in a river near Fort Smith/Fort Chaffee. I was having each guy do three evolutions of landing to the water with the ramp open (which is actually quite a bit different than landing on the water with the ramp up), onloading a combat rubber raiding craft or CRRC, flying a pattern, and putting the boat back in water for another go. So I had, if memory serves, Marie's husband up front and we are getting it done. As it was night, I noticed clearly the port position light was occasionally disappearing under the water, but I didn't consider the ramifications. This was a level one SA failure. As it happened we were also training crew chiefs to perform the ramp duties. Oh, and the guys in the boat were training too. (Bad call, never have more than one piece of a complex operation in training). As we were at JRTC, which was in Chaffee then, we had a generic miles gear kit installed, with a wire running up the right sponson, and into the forward compartment where, as luck would have it, an engine control box lived. The wire broke the seal on the compartment door, and allowed air to escape, which allowed water to flow in thru the open drain ports at the floor of the compartment. This was getting ready to be a problem. The first problem though was that we were too deep, and the ramp opening was too close to the water. The boat made a run for the chemlights taped to the ramp opening, and ran a soldiers head right into the ass end of the aircraft. He went swimming. The boat made a go around, and the FEI made it about half way thru explaining this when we lost comms with the back. Water got into the ICS box near the ramp. I took the controls, lifted the aircraft (now pretty heavy with a belly full of water pouring out of a hundred and something drain holes) to a 30 foot hover, and tried to get control of the situation. Then the number two engine began to decelerate with a torque split and a drop in rotor. That was the water getting into the N2 control box in the compartment on the front of the sponson. We were in a trick.
It was at that moment that a piece of training that I got in the IP course saved the day. As a younger pilot, I had been conditioned to pull the cyclic rearward after losing an engine, as this is what you do when you "get one" in the traffic pattern. My instructor in the IP course took to giving me engine failures at a OGE hover, and I got the habit of accelerating in my muscle memory. So that night, at Fort Smith, as that motor drifted downward I just stood on the beep with my thumb and moved forward thru ETL. We got pretty close to the water. I declared an emergency with the Fort Smith tower, and freaked him out when I did a run on landing with "fuel" pouring out of the aircraft all over the runway. We were done for that night.
Safe flights boys!
rf
It was at that moment that a piece of training that I got in the IP course saved the day. As a younger pilot, I had been conditioned to pull the cyclic rearward after losing an engine, as this is what you do when you "get one" in the traffic pattern. My instructor in the IP course took to giving me engine failures at a OGE hover, and I got the habit of accelerating in my muscle memory. So that night, at Fort Smith, as that motor drifted downward I just stood on the beep with my thumb and moved forward thru ETL. We got pretty close to the water. I declared an emergency with the Fort Smith tower, and freaked him out when I did a run on landing with "fuel" pouring out of the aircraft all over the runway. We were done for that night.
Safe flights boys!
rf
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Lunch Date
It is easy to forget what is going on "over there" as we all grind through these "tough economic times" and worry about the future of health care or our job or whatever.
A couple of weeks ago, I had lunch 3 other 160th Flight Leads. One currently serving, three retired. I work for EMS brand Y (as in Why did they do That?). Another fellow just took a job with Hermann in Houston. Yet another fellow is going to be a missionary in a foreign land. The active duty guy wants to work in our area when he retires, and hence keeps the communication open. So we have lunch when he is stateside.
So we are sitting there at the Macaroni Grill on a regular day when I ask him about a recent mission in which his chalk two aircraft crashed on departure from a "warm" landing zone. The gist - people were shooting and they were leaving and there was no support anywhere nearby. The zone was typically dusty as all get out, and a 47 really pumps it up. On departure chalk two crashed. Americans died. My buddy in the lead aircraft had to make a decision.
Leave or land.
He says at the lunch table, "I had to go back and look for survivors, any man here would have done the same."
I appreciate his faith but can't help wondering how I would have acted. In my nine years in the seat, I did trash one perfectly good MH-47 under fire, but never had to make a decision like that. After 12 years flying in the "real world" I am also more cynical, more jaded, more aware that it's really all about money here in the U S of A.
He flew back into that dark hell of dust and dirt and blood. They trust the the velocity vector and the acceleration cursor more now-days than we did when I did it. He landed on his system, and did the right thing. And found out the bad news.
Apparently the military isn't quite so generous with awards these days. For what he and his crew did, I would recommend the Medal. He didn't die. We'll see.
So I am sitting there and I can feel the karma flowing out across the table. I am not a big karma guy, but I don't know how else to describe it. Honor? Integrity? Do those words still matter in our country? I sit up a little straighter. I hold my head a little higher. I feel somehow - for just a few moments - elevated. I tell him that. It's the only award I have to offer.
The waitress asks, "will this be together or separate?"
A couple of weeks ago, I had lunch 3 other 160th Flight Leads. One currently serving, three retired. I work for EMS brand Y (as in Why did they do That?). Another fellow just took a job with Hermann in Houston. Yet another fellow is going to be a missionary in a foreign land. The active duty guy wants to work in our area when he retires, and hence keeps the communication open. So we have lunch when he is stateside.
So we are sitting there at the Macaroni Grill on a regular day when I ask him about a recent mission in which his chalk two aircraft crashed on departure from a "warm" landing zone. The gist - people were shooting and they were leaving and there was no support anywhere nearby. The zone was typically dusty as all get out, and a 47 really pumps it up. On departure chalk two crashed. Americans died. My buddy in the lead aircraft had to make a decision.
Leave or land.
He says at the lunch table, "I had to go back and look for survivors, any man here would have done the same."
I appreciate his faith but can't help wondering how I would have acted. In my nine years in the seat, I did trash one perfectly good MH-47 under fire, but never had to make a decision like that. After 12 years flying in the "real world" I am also more cynical, more jaded, more aware that it's really all about money here in the U S of A.
He flew back into that dark hell of dust and dirt and blood. They trust the the velocity vector and the acceleration cursor more now-days than we did when I did it. He landed on his system, and did the right thing. And found out the bad news.
Apparently the military isn't quite so generous with awards these days. For what he and his crew did, I would recommend the Medal. He didn't die. We'll see.
So I am sitting there and I can feel the karma flowing out across the table. I am not a big karma guy, but I don't know how else to describe it. Honor? Integrity? Do those words still matter in our country? I sit up a little straighter. I hold my head a little higher. I feel somehow - for just a few moments - elevated. I tell him that. It's the only award I have to offer.
The waitress asks, "will this be together or separate?"
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I wasn't flying with Oscar the day I learned how to hover. He was my primary instructor, but for some reason I was with the IP supervisor. This fellow was an old smoker, had thousands of hours, and had taught many monkeys to fly. He did not favor the technique of taking me to a big field and letting me humiliate and scare myself while gyrating wildly to and fro.
"Let's try ground taxi first" he said. "You have the controls. Use the pedals to keep the nose on the line, put in a bit of forward cyclic, increase collective just until we slide forward on the skids, just a little now!"
As I pulled up on the collective while twisting the throttle at it's end, lift and torque took over from gravity and friction and the nose ground to the right with a jerk and a horrible sound from the skids. I immediately pushed the collective back down without un-twisting the throttle and the engine revved.
"Easy now son. When you move the collective you have to compensate with throttle and pedal, all at once! Try again - and get the nose back straight on the line
Again I pulled, but this time I also pushed my left foot forward. Another grinding sound and a lurch, and we are once again looking straight down the lane. This time I don't move the collective, and I do move my feet, and we sit there quivering with enough power in to make us light but not enough to lift us off the ground.
"Okay, now ease in a bit more forward cyclic. You are doing fine."
I push the cyclic forward just a little, and with a shudder and a lurch, and a grinding sound we slide forward a few inches.
"Very nice! You just taxiied a helicopter."
My head feels as if it is swelling inside my helmet, hotspots from the suspension straps are beginning to burn my scalp, sweat is running into my eyes, and I don't think moving forward a couple of inches is much to feel good about. This is hard.
"Okay, let's do it again, only this time try and keep us sliding that way." He points down the lane. I move the controls again, we begin to slide, and this time I feel how much to move the controls so that we don't stop."
"Very good," he says. "You are taxiing. But you are wearing out my skid shoes. Nice and easy, use a little more power to get us a little lighter on our skids."
I increase collective and throttle and left pedal. The aircraft rocks forward on it's skid toes and I see his hand move toward the cyclic in my periphery. I move the cyclic slightly back and we settle back level, and move forward. The grinding sound is less pronounced. But we are still sliding metal across asphalt.
"This is better, but you are still grinding off the skid shoes. Give me just a bit more power and see what you can do."
I move the controls. The grinding all but stops. We are moving forward about as fast as I would walk, and rocking ever so slightly from corner to corner with accompanying scrapes as first the front then the rear skid ends touch. I can feel this, and without thinking I begin to move the cyclic counter to the rocking.
He says, "if you bring in just a bit more power, you won't drag the skids as much."
I add a tiny bit more power, throttle, and pedal. We move forward smoothly, a couple of inches above the ground.
"Okay, now you know how to ground taxi, and oh by the way, you are hovering!"
I immediately overcontrol and lose all coordination and drop us hard back onto the ground. I am tired already.
He laughs, says "good job" and takes the controls to demonstrate a traffic pattern. I adjust my helmet to ease the burn and try to learn.
I have hovered.
"Let's try ground taxi first" he said. "You have the controls. Use the pedals to keep the nose on the line, put in a bit of forward cyclic, increase collective just until we slide forward on the skids, just a little now!"
As I pulled up on the collective while twisting the throttle at it's end, lift and torque took over from gravity and friction and the nose ground to the right with a jerk and a horrible sound from the skids. I immediately pushed the collective back down without un-twisting the throttle and the engine revved.
"Easy now son. When you move the collective you have to compensate with throttle and pedal, all at once! Try again - and get the nose back straight on the line
Again I pulled, but this time I also pushed my left foot forward. Another grinding sound and a lurch, and we are once again looking straight down the lane. This time I don't move the collective, and I do move my feet, and we sit there quivering with enough power in to make us light but not enough to lift us off the ground.
"Okay, now ease in a bit more forward cyclic. You are doing fine."
I push the cyclic forward just a little, and with a shudder and a lurch, and a grinding sound we slide forward a few inches.
"Very nice! You just taxiied a helicopter."
My head feels as if it is swelling inside my helmet, hotspots from the suspension straps are beginning to burn my scalp, sweat is running into my eyes, and I don't think moving forward a couple of inches is much to feel good about. This is hard.
"Okay, let's do it again, only this time try and keep us sliding that way." He points down the lane. I move the controls again, we begin to slide, and this time I feel how much to move the controls so that we don't stop."
"Very good," he says. "You are taxiing. But you are wearing out my skid shoes. Nice and easy, use a little more power to get us a little lighter on our skids."
I increase collective and throttle and left pedal. The aircraft rocks forward on it's skid toes and I see his hand move toward the cyclic in my periphery. I move the cyclic slightly back and we settle back level, and move forward. The grinding sound is less pronounced. But we are still sliding metal across asphalt.
"This is better, but you are still grinding off the skid shoes. Give me just a bit more power and see what you can do."
I move the controls. The grinding all but stops. We are moving forward about as fast as I would walk, and rocking ever so slightly from corner to corner with accompanying scrapes as first the front then the rear skid ends touch. I can feel this, and without thinking I begin to move the cyclic counter to the rocking.
He says, "if you bring in just a bit more power, you won't drag the skids as much."
I add a tiny bit more power, throttle, and pedal. We move forward smoothly, a couple of inches above the ground.
"Okay, now you know how to ground taxi, and oh by the way, you are hovering!"
I immediately overcontrol and lose all coordination and drop us hard back onto the ground. I am tired already.
He laughs, says "good job" and takes the controls to demonstrate a traffic pattern. I adjust my helmet to ease the burn and try to learn.
I have hovered.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Professional Development....
Darth Tater writes;
The first step toward respect for our profession is not union organization. You're not satisfied being a professional pilot so you want to be more like a teamster? If being a professional pilot doesn't get you a table at the Ritz, what's a union card going to do for you? The path to success is through exertion, not extortion. Compulsory unionization would kill our industry.
I reply;
Darth, I get the idea that you and I disagree on union-organizing of pilots employed by companies. Thats fine by me. I think everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and if yours is different than mine, that doesn't make me smarter or dumber than you. We simply see things differently.
In this regard though, I am not referring to labor-union organization. Here is what I wrote:
I submit that the first steps toward a respected profession as helicopter pilots will be organization followed by legitimate barriers to entry into the profession; such as higher educational and experience levels.
Again, I see similarities between where our profession is today and where medicine was a hundred or so years ago. They had "medical schools" popping up everywhere willy-nilly. Some were two year, some three, some four. Curriculums varied widely. Competing philosophies fought for a place such as Naturopathy and Osteopathy (They squashed the Nats and swallowed the Osteos). It was chaos and no one was making any money. More importantly to society though - the profession wasn't living up to it's potential.
Physicians organized. State Medical Societies begot the American Medical Association, and the AMA et.al. got government to change and enforce the rules.
We could do this. I am not a member of the PHPA, yet, but that may be the avenue forward.
First we have to join forces through a professional association, then we have to decide on standards, then we have to get those standards enforced. This for the good of the profession - not the good of my wallet. It probably won't happen any time soon; as the obstacles are many.
When efforts were underway to organize physicians, it was discovered that there were three segments in the population.
First, there were those who had lucrative careers and didn't see any need for change. They didn't care to improve other's lots, and create competition for themselves.
Second, there were those who were quacks, and didn't want to elevate the work above what they could understand.
Finally, there was the third group who pushed for higher standards and were willing to work harder to live up to them.
It's like that with us. I believe our standards are set too low. I believe the wrong people are setting the standards, and I believe that the people who lose - in the long run - are the people we serve.
The first step toward respect for our profession is not union organization. You're not satisfied being a professional pilot so you want to be more like a teamster? If being a professional pilot doesn't get you a table at the Ritz, what's a union card going to do for you? The path to success is through exertion, not extortion. Compulsory unionization would kill our industry.
I reply;
Darth, I get the idea that you and I disagree on union-organizing of pilots employed by companies. Thats fine by me. I think everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and if yours is different than mine, that doesn't make me smarter or dumber than you. We simply see things differently.
In this regard though, I am not referring to labor-union organization. Here is what I wrote:
I submit that the first steps toward a respected profession as helicopter pilots will be organization followed by legitimate barriers to entry into the profession; such as higher educational and experience levels.
Again, I see similarities between where our profession is today and where medicine was a hundred or so years ago. They had "medical schools" popping up everywhere willy-nilly. Some were two year, some three, some four. Curriculums varied widely. Competing philosophies fought for a place such as Naturopathy and Osteopathy (They squashed the Nats and swallowed the Osteos). It was chaos and no one was making any money. More importantly to society though - the profession wasn't living up to it's potential.
Physicians organized. State Medical Societies begot the American Medical Association, and the AMA et.al. got government to change and enforce the rules.
We could do this. I am not a member of the PHPA, yet, but that may be the avenue forward.
First we have to join forces through a professional association, then we have to decide on standards, then we have to get those standards enforced. This for the good of the profession - not the good of my wallet. It probably won't happen any time soon; as the obstacles are many.
When efforts were underway to organize physicians, it was discovered that there were three segments in the population.
First, there were those who had lucrative careers and didn't see any need for change. They didn't care to improve other's lots, and create competition for themselves.
Second, there were those who were quacks, and didn't want to elevate the work above what they could understand.
Finally, there was the third group who pushed for higher standards and were willing to work harder to live up to them.
It's like that with us. I believe our standards are set too low. I believe the wrong people are setting the standards, and I believe that the people who lose - in the long run - are the people we serve.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Helicopter EMS Pilots Could Make Big Money
If we would respect our profession
Author: rotorflex Date: 11/11/2009 1:32:06 PM Show Orig. Msg (this window) Or In New Window
It would respect us back.
In OAH's post, he correlates medicine to aviation. It wasn't so long ago that medicine was held in pretty low esteem by the average person. The medical profession pulled itself up by it's bootstraps; and while they seem to be self-destructing now, physicians have had a great run.
Does it not strike anyone as ironic that the supposed experts on air medical transport are physicians? Their purview should cover patient care -period. Somehow they now weigh in on all aspects of a profession they know little about.
Airline pilots enjoyed a similar prestige for a few decades, but they were not able to enjoy the benefits of a "legitmate complexity" (Paul Starr's words), and could not create barriers to entry for their profession the way that physicians could. So now you can be an airline pilot with 200 hours and make $16,0000 a year. And for that you pay and strive for a long time. The conditions that lead to poor morale and poor performance within the ranks of airline pilots aren't created by them, but they take the blame for every misstep.
The physician"s "time in the sun" is coming to an end. Have you noticed the direct-to-consumer drug ads (which were not allowed by medical groups for many years) now advise you to consult "your prescriber" about said drugs; no longer do they say "your physician". Inroads are being made into the medical profession, and someday you may see a health care "professional" at your local Wal-Mart who makes $16,000 a year and gives you prescriptions for what ails you.
Flying a helicopter is a complex activity, requiring significant preparation, education, and practice. We have only ourselves to blame for the fact that we enjoy so little wealth and prestige for what we do.
It has been said that the first steps toward nationhood are a common language followed by a common currency. I submit that the first steps toward a respected profession as helicopter pilots will be organization followed by legitimate barriers to entry into the profession; such as higher educational and experience levels.
To borrow a phrase from the medical profession; "no one should come between a helicopter pilot and his passengers"
Author: rotorflex Date: 11/11/2009 1:32:06 PM Show Orig. Msg (this window) Or In New Window
It would respect us back.
In OAH's post, he correlates medicine to aviation. It wasn't so long ago that medicine was held in pretty low esteem by the average person. The medical profession pulled itself up by it's bootstraps; and while they seem to be self-destructing now, physicians have had a great run.
Does it not strike anyone as ironic that the supposed experts on air medical transport are physicians? Their purview should cover patient care -period. Somehow they now weigh in on all aspects of a profession they know little about.
Airline pilots enjoyed a similar prestige for a few decades, but they were not able to enjoy the benefits of a "legitmate complexity" (Paul Starr's words), and could not create barriers to entry for their profession the way that physicians could. So now you can be an airline pilot with 200 hours and make $16,0000 a year. And for that you pay and strive for a long time. The conditions that lead to poor morale and poor performance within the ranks of airline pilots aren't created by them, but they take the blame for every misstep.
The physician"s "time in the sun" is coming to an end. Have you noticed the direct-to-consumer drug ads (which were not allowed by medical groups for many years) now advise you to consult "your prescriber" about said drugs; no longer do they say "your physician". Inroads are being made into the medical profession, and someday you may see a health care "professional" at your local Wal-Mart who makes $16,000 a year and gives you prescriptions for what ails you.
Flying a helicopter is a complex activity, requiring significant preparation, education, and practice. We have only ourselves to blame for the fact that we enjoy so little wealth and prestige for what we do.
It has been said that the first steps toward nationhood are a common language followed by a common currency. I submit that the first steps toward a respected profession as helicopter pilots will be organization followed by legitimate barriers to entry into the profession; such as higher educational and experience levels.
To borrow a phrase from the medical profession; "no one should come between a helicopter pilot and his passengers"
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