Tuesday, May 30, 1995
23 May, 1995
8 May 1995
Just back from a great mission - Big Drop II - the largest combined air drop since World War II. We had 69 airplanes putting 3000 paratroopers and assorted equipment on three drops zones in the space of an hour. It actually took about 2-1/2 hours, but that included race-tracking to get the people off who didn’t make it out the door on time during the first pass. In our case, we had one guy who didn’t go out by the time I called “Red Light.”
It was quite the deal - four days duration for one flying mission, but paid for an incredible six days. Thursday and Friday were active duty pay days; Saturday and Sunday as our normal UTA days, so the government actually saved money even though we were getting paid twice just to get crew rest.
Since we were a personnel drop, we didn’t have to be down there (Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina) until Friday night. Another airplane from Pittsburgh went down earlier in the day to load up a 38,000 pound road grader - those are scary loads - if anything goes wrong during the extraction, and a load hangs up in the plane on the way out, you’re done for - the center of gravity of the plane is shot and you’ll have six or seven huge parachutes fully inflated behind you, doing their very best to drag the load and whatever’s attached to it (your plane!) out of the sky. I’ll take 55 paratroopers, Thank you!
The orders and our ROE (rules of engagement), stated proper flow control in and out of Pope was critical, so everyone was to meet a specific time of arrival (TOA) and would be graded on touchdown time at Pope.
This was a challenge I was particularly looking forward to. At the Airlift Rodeo, we were graded on our TOA and due to various breakdowns, (not mine) being 20 seconds late we lost 80 points on it (We came in 2nd place by something like 2 points!) and it had been bugging me ever since because I was sure we could do better than that, and I wanted a chance to do it again to prove to myself I was as good at this stuff as I think I am.
So… I got a low level chart of the local area around Pope, got an approach plate of the ILS course, and coordinated with the pilots (Ben Knox and Fabulous Frank Falsone) on the air speeds we would fly on the approach. Then I drew up a route back from the base using time and distance marks for those airspeeds, which gave me a visual reference all the way down to landing - so if we crossed a road, I could immediately tell if we were ahead or behind time. Coupling that to the SCNS (self-contained navigation system) makes it a breeze, Frank calls it “airshow timing.”
Anyhow, we killed our time high level into the Raleigh VORTAC, then headed out on our low-level route into the base, getting cleared for the visual approach. It worked like a charm! Between the chart and the SCNS, we knew exactly where we were and how fast fly, and we touched down less than a second late. It was beautiful! I felt like a million bucks because I knew if I’d had a decent pilot at the Rodeo, those points would’ve been mine!
The mission we were taking part in was a 25-ship formation – the first 10 airplanes, dropping various types of heavy equipment followed by our formation - 15 planes - dropping 55 paratroopers each. There were also two other formations:a 12-ship of C-130s dropping personnel and CDS, And 13 C-141s dropping personnel.
The drops were to three different drops zones, all situated next to each other. The drops were scheduled over a period of an hour spaced out to allow ample deconfliction between formations. I’m not sure why they staggered the IPs and drop zones the way they did, because it caused things to be strung out. We all flew the same route with the C-141’s coming in right before the IP and then using their speed to pull away. It would’ve made much more sense to have separate routes with individual IP’s to separate drop zones with separate approaches and escapes. The problem could be that lateral spacing between formations would be insufficient for safety considerations, but if airplanes can land on separate runways in IFR conditions, we should be able to find the correct drop zones. One way would be to stagger TOT’s. The two outside formations at one time with the center coming in immediately following. 18 seconds spacing it would be easy to put 3000 troops and equipment on the zone in 15 minutes. What an awesome site that would be! (But I was not the planner, and have no idea what their constraints might be).
The brief for the formation was pretty unique; reminded me of the pictures I’ve seen of World War II and Vietnam large mission briefs - The room was packed with so many crews not everyone could sit down. The Active Duty guys from Pope AFB briefed and led the formation. It made me a little jealous, but I guess that’s how it would be in the big one, at least for the first couple of months till everyone realized we (Guard and Reserves) knew what we were doing.
My plane was the number two plane in the sixth element, or #17 out of 25 aircraft (each element is a three-ship formation). For this mission each element lead was an AWADS (Adverse Weather Air Delivery System) bird, which means the navigator has the ability to aim with radar and direct the airplane to the CARP (computed air release point). Much like using the radar to drop bombs like I did in the B-52.
In the end, I was impressed by the accuracy of the AWADS birds (the feedback was that the drops went right down centerline).
The brief was a little lackadaisical for a group of people who are mostly from off station and did familiar with the local procedures. We spent a lot of time interrupting and asking for clarification. I think it would’ve been smoother if it had been flown to strange drop zones because then nothing would’ve been taken for granted.
As with any large formation, the key factor is getting everyone talking and listening on the correct frequency at the same time; and just like any large formation, that is exactly where we had our huge problems.
Check in was a nightmare. It took at least four tries on every radio to check-in in sequence. It was almost comical; just trying to get people to key the mic, and count off in order was an exercise in futility. As the Mission Commander commented later, “I’m surprised you all are college graduates!”
The other goat rope occurred during the SKE checks. We’ve had this equipment for years now, and every time you get more than two planes together it is harder than hell to get everyone up and reading everybody else. (SKE, or Station-Keeping Equipment, is the radio equipment that everyone synchs to, so everyone else can see them in bad weather, and allows us to fly large formations in poor or marginal weather and at night. But everyone has to be connected and synchronized for it work).
Of course, no one checks that stuff out until you’re ready for taxi and time-limited for fixes. The two formations did their SKE checks, and naturally somebody could not see the leader. One out of 25 airplanes. so we switch frequencies, and though that person was now on the scope, three other people went blind. So we switch frequencies again! Some people came up, different ones went down. This continued all through the taxi, then the leader’s SKE went totally tits-up, so he dropped out of the formation and took a visual spot at the end of the formation (Amazingly <thankfully!>, the visibility was unlimited, so if all else failed, we could press on and fly visual).
Taxiing out, we were trying to fix the SKE equipment all the while the first formation was taking off - we were all on interplane chattering away through a 10-ship take off. I’m sure it was distracting for them.
Our formation takeoff was a continuation of the SKE nightmare. Once we were airborne, at 15 second intervals, things naturally went to hell as the SKE scopes went blank. We spent the next 10 minutes switching frequencies and moving the Master around the formation, trying to get everyone “tied on.” If there had been any weather at all, it would’ve been impossible to fly that formation as we flew it. I tuned my radar to station keeping, so I had the guy out in front of us and was able to give the pilots position updates when our SKE equipment went blank. Not much can happen if everyone stays calm and flies the same air speeds, but if someone goes astray and does something unplanned, it could really get hairy quickly – my radar helps keeps that from happening.
Once the SKE was straightened out, the mission was very uneventful. The Lead got early, and stayed early, though with a large formation you can’t do much with airspeeds. If you slow down too much, the guys in the back just the fall out of the sky.
We were a minute and a half early to the target but right on center line. I assume the drops went well – I timed off lead, andtried to hold my “red light” call to the last possible second. Supposedly 40 guys, of the 800 or so we dropped, landed off the drop zone, but often that’s the guys who keep going after the “red light” call, which signifies the end of the safe drop time.
Unfortunately, the rules of engagement for the exercise were, if any plane had more than six jumpers left on board, or if the entire formation had more than 30 left, we would go around the one hour and 15 minute route again for a second drop.
Our plane had one guy left on board. Everyone held their breath as the Check-in calls came over the airplane: “81, no alibis,” “82, one alibi,” “83 negative allbis,” “84 two alibis,” “85, Negative.” “86, Negative.” “87, four alibis,” “88 (us), one alibi,”“89 negative on the alibis,” “9-0, two alibis,” “91, seven alibis,” “93, 27 alibis.…” WTF??? Dobbins had left an entire stick of jumpers on board! You could feel the deflation in the cockpit as reality hit, and we knew that we were going to go around the entire route again.
The second trip around was smooth; the jitters were gone because after the first route we were veterans of this formation flying. About 20 minutes into the second route, the Dobbins airplane developed engine trouble. (How convenient!) They broke out of formation, and headed home for an early landing. We continued the elephant walk… kept the formation together and eventually dropped all the remaining jumpers, then gratefully took ATC’s vectors to a quick, 30-minute return to Pope.
From the cockpit the approach looked amazing! We had seven planes in front of us, and seven behind us so we were able to see the big line of light stretched out up to meet us like a stairway down to the runway. At approximately 25-second spacing, three airplanes were on the runway at any given time, either taxiing off, halfway down the runway, or in the flare. When we turned off the runway and looked back up final approach, we could see the stair steps of planes reaching back into the night.
The rest of the weekend was pretty routine. We deplaned, debriefed, and found our way back to the hotel. It was 5 AM. Frank Falsone, Ben Knox, Henry Uyeda and I found a Waffle House and got some breakfast, and then Ben and I went and sat in the hot tub to unwind.
I got up at noon and went running (4 miles!) and then went with the crew over to the big aircrew party back out at the base.
After that, it was more hot tub time and hanging out until time to go home Sunday morning.
All in all, not a bad way to earn six days’ pay.
