Swooping and Diving

Milford Trek.
South Island
New Zealand
Photo by JoAnn Sturman









W.R. Priskna
fliesinyoureyes.com

A pilot who says he has never been frightened in an airplane is, I'm afraid, lying.
— Louise Thaden

I had another bright idea. If only I could convince Lt. Wayne to go along with it. How far could we fly a Huey helicopter and return to base without running out of gas? It wouldn't count to fly in circles within the local area and then make a final short flight back to base. No, it had to be one way outbound and the same way inbound without any last minute diversion to burn off extra fuel.

You'll never become a good helicopter pilot if you don't take chances. The standard Air Force take offs and landings interspersed by cruising at least 500 feet above the ground will not prepare an aviator for situations where airman ship makes the difference between life and death. A helicopter pilot graduates from flight training with less than 200 hours of flight experience; most of which are spent with an instructor, allowing little time to experiment and make independent decisions. A recent graduate possesses adequate mechanical skills but is short on judgment and understanding the limitations of the aircraft.

When I arrived at the squadron as a newly graduated helicopter pilot, Lt. Harley Wayne was assigned to look after me. He had been flying for a couple years, including an overseas tour in the Far East, and believed in the “swooping and diving” approach to aviation. Once out of sight of the air force base, the helicopter should be flown like a bird – up, down, sideways, forward, backwards, fast, slow, high, low, straight, and serpentine over every conceivable piece of terrain. He liked to say, “This is the only way when you get into the cockpit you'll feel like you strap the helicopter on your back. It will become a part of you, if you let it.”

I was an average pilot in flight school, but after a year of flying with Lt. Wayne and other like minded pilots, my abilities increased considerably. We flew aggressively, but other than Lt. Johnson's crash when he hit power lines in New Mexico (See Cover Up from “Tales of the Blue” Feb 26, 2010), I cannot recall any major accident during my four years with the unit.

A UH-1 Huey is powered by a jet turbine engine and without extra tanks holds 1550 pounds of JP4 fuel. It burns approximately 600 pounds or 90 gallons of fuel per hour for routine missions, although this requirement increases with aircraft weight and maneuvers which require more thrust – hovering and takeoffs. Conversely, flying at a consistent altitude at 80-90 knots airspeed enhances fuel economy. Most missions were restricted to two hours to insure an adequate fuel reserve, so it was rare to fly more than 120 miles from base unless we refueled at another airport.

To escape the Arizona summer heat I camped occasionally in the White Mountains of Central Arizona, passing through Show Low, a small town along the way. At 160 air miles from Tucson it was probably the limit at which a Huey could fly and return to base. I made my case to Harley:

“The round trip is 320 miles. If we fly for maximum fuel efficiency, the aircraft will burn about 450 pounds of fuel per hour which should allow us to fly for 350 miles – a 30 mile cushion.”

“To be on the safe side, W.R., we'll turn back towards base when the fuel indicator reads 5/8 of a tank. The instrument is not precise, so if things get tight, we'll be using inexact information. I know you want to see Show Low from the air, but if we have to land in the desert because we run out of gas both you and I will be grounded.”

We departed base early in the morning on a day when winds were predicted to be calm over the entire flight route. Our fuel efficiency proved to be better than expected since the helicopter's rotor system was trimmed perfectly and there was little turbulence. We arrived at Show Low with 5/8 of a tank and immediately turned around to return to base.

Thirty minutes later our progress slowed significantly as we encountered unanticipated head winds. The margin of safety narrowed as we tried flying at different altitudes and airspeeds to try to gain an advantage. As we approached the Santa Catalina Mountains north of Tucson, the low fuel light illuminated. We continued west through Redding Pass where we picked up a slight tail wind. It was less than ten minutes home, and the low fuel light had been blinking for what seemed to be hours, as the fuel gage indicator pegged on zero.

Final approach to the helipad required flying over residential Tucson, although the flight corridor passed close to empty spaces where a helicopter could autorotate in an emergency. We either had to land in the desert now or risk a flame out. “We've come this far, W.R., and we only need two or three minutes to get to base. We can make an emergency autorotation if necessary. Let's land at the base.”

What a relief when we safely landed at the helipad with the fuel gage at zero but not so much as a shutter from the engine! We hovered 30 seconds to our parking spot on the flight line and shut down the engine. Sgt. Russell, the crew chief was there to meet us. “Good morning, gentlemen. Did you land in the desert and take a nap? You have been gone for three and a half hours.”
“Don't ask, Russ. I have to go clean my underpants now.”

Later that morning Sgt. Russell took us aside, “I just refueled the bird with 1510 pounds of JP4. There were only five gallons left in the tank.” It was too close for comfort, but five gallons made the difference between a story with a happy ending and an unpleasant confrontation with our commander and a desk job in North Dakota.

Just remember, if you crash because of weather, your funeral will be held on a sunny day.— Layton A. Bennett