1
Damn, I'm Gonna Crash! on Sat Dec 12, 2009 8:27 pm
I was a young sailor, in the United States Navy and stationed at Chase Field, Beeville, Texas. I had originally been trained in operation of Link Trainer Flight Simulators but was in the process of changing my rate to Air Traffic Controller. I was assigned to the Control Tower at Navy Chase Field. Chase Field was an advanced pilot training field where we trained student Naval Aviators in gunnery, acrobatics, High Performance Jets and Evasive Manuevers. Indeed, after completing training at Chase, the NAVCADS were given commissions as Naval Officers and their "Wings of Gold". I often flew in the Jets with the Instructors. It was a great thrill for me to experience the realm of fighter pilot flight. My primary job while in the jets was to help watch out for airliners while we were doing acrobatic flight. In 1956, we didn't have the Military Operating Areas and Restricted Areas as they are to segregate aircraft, today. With these exciting experiences, I knew I had to become a pilot.
I had obtained a position at Travland Airport, which was the local civil aviation field serving Beeville. We had two grass runways. One was 1800 feet and the other was 2700 feet long. My job was to "tend" the airport, gas up transient aircraft, and any other odd job that needed attention. I took all my earnings out in flight time and was working toward my Private Pilot License. My instructor was Mr. Ellsworth. "Arny was a retired Navy Pilot and had obtained a civil service job on the base. My primary training was done in an Aeronca 7AC Champion. Yep, it was a taildragger, and I am glad I had the experience of flying it for my first aircraft.
Training went well. One day we had made a few touch and goes and "Arny" told me to make a full stop and pull off to the side of the runway. I did. He then informed me that I was going to make my first solo flight. Many thoughts went through my mind. Was I ready to fly alone? What if something happens? He assured me that I was ready and got out of the aircraft. He told me to take it around the pattern twice and make two full stop landings.
Now I forgot to mention that I was only about 20 yrs old and weighed 160 lbs. Arny weighed in at about 260 lbs. He didn't tell me that the aircraft would fly differently when it was considerably lighter.
My takeoff was excellent, by the book, except that I used very little runway getting airborne. I reached Pattern altitude very quickly and started my left turn onto the downwind leg. Leveling at 800 ft agl, i noticed that my airspeed built right up to cruise speed of 80 MPH. At the base leg position, I pulled on the carbuerator heat, and reduced power to idle, slowed to 60 mph and started my turn to base. Everything looked good. I cleared the engine with a little burst of power as I turned onto the final and continued my glide. As I came over the end of the runway, I flared slightly. I touched down on the main gear and immediately bounced up a bit. I was used to making a "full stall" landing by bringing the tail down and holding the attitude for a smooth touchdown. But I couldn't get the tail down. I was used to having 260 lbs behind me. I began to "porpoise" down the runway and was rapidly losing control. Just as I was about to go off the edge, I said to myself, "Damn, I'm gonna crash." I knew I had to make a "waveoff" (Navy Term). Full Power, carbuerator heat off, slight back pressure on the stick and I was airborne again. Good Decision, Jim, I said to myself, maybe out loud.
I climbed back to pattern altitude and turned downwind again. I now had time to think about what had gone wrong. I realized that I had carried just a tad extra speed, and didn't give the plane time to bleed it off before I tried to touch down. I knew what to do. I came in for a nearly perfect landing this time. I taxied over to the side of the runway and picked up my instructor. We went through what had happened together.
He took me into the office and cut off the tail of my shirt and pinned it on the wall. And then signed me off as "safe to solo."
I had obtained a position at Travland Airport, which was the local civil aviation field serving Beeville. We had two grass runways. One was 1800 feet and the other was 2700 feet long. My job was to "tend" the airport, gas up transient aircraft, and any other odd job that needed attention. I took all my earnings out in flight time and was working toward my Private Pilot License. My instructor was Mr. Ellsworth. "Arny was a retired Navy Pilot and had obtained a civil service job on the base. My primary training was done in an Aeronca 7AC Champion. Yep, it was a taildragger, and I am glad I had the experience of flying it for my first aircraft.
Training went well. One day we had made a few touch and goes and "Arny" told me to make a full stop and pull off to the side of the runway. I did. He then informed me that I was going to make my first solo flight. Many thoughts went through my mind. Was I ready to fly alone? What if something happens? He assured me that I was ready and got out of the aircraft. He told me to take it around the pattern twice and make two full stop landings.
Now I forgot to mention that I was only about 20 yrs old and weighed 160 lbs. Arny weighed in at about 260 lbs. He didn't tell me that the aircraft would fly differently when it was considerably lighter.
My takeoff was excellent, by the book, except that I used very little runway getting airborne. I reached Pattern altitude very quickly and started my left turn onto the downwind leg. Leveling at 800 ft agl, i noticed that my airspeed built right up to cruise speed of 80 MPH. At the base leg position, I pulled on the carbuerator heat, and reduced power to idle, slowed to 60 mph and started my turn to base. Everything looked good. I cleared the engine with a little burst of power as I turned onto the final and continued my glide. As I came over the end of the runway, I flared slightly. I touched down on the main gear and immediately bounced up a bit. I was used to making a "full stall" landing by bringing the tail down and holding the attitude for a smooth touchdown. But I couldn't get the tail down. I was used to having 260 lbs behind me. I began to "porpoise" down the runway and was rapidly losing control. Just as I was about to go off the edge, I said to myself, "Damn, I'm gonna crash." I knew I had to make a "waveoff" (Navy Term). Full Power, carbuerator heat off, slight back pressure on the stick and I was airborne again. Good Decision, Jim, I said to myself, maybe out loud.
I climbed back to pattern altitude and turned downwind again. I now had time to think about what had gone wrong. I realized that I had carried just a tad extra speed, and didn't give the plane time to bleed it off before I tried to touch down. I knew what to do. I came in for a nearly perfect landing this time. I taxied over to the side of the runway and picked up my instructor. We went through what had happened together.
He took me into the office and cut off the tail of my shirt and pinned it on the wall. And then signed me off as "safe to solo."
