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Whenever a pilot “slips the surly bonds of earth and dances the sky on laughter silvered wings,” there are sounds they NEVER want to hear. Case in point, I was leading a four-ship of F-16 Vipers on a range ride out of MacDill AFB (MCF) one day when I heard such a sound. You may ask what the sound was and why I didn’t want to hear it. I’ll tell you.
“Top Dawg” (my callsign) flight was manned with instructor pilots (IP) in #1 (me) and #3 with students in Vipers #s 2 and 4. As briefed, we launched and headed to and entered one of our low-level training routes to fly tactical formation (below) at 500 feet AGL and 480 knots. This was training our students in low-altitude ops and to put the flight in the best position to spot any “Bandits” who might be hunting for us and also the best position to counter their ill intent.
Our low-level route dropped us off at the gunnery range at Avon Park in central Florida, which lies about 45 miles northwest of Lake Okeechobee. Once on the range, and under the watchful eye of the range control officer, we dropped our six BDU-33 training bombs one at a time and made a number of strafing passes firing our M61A1 six-barrel, 20MM Gatling gun. We didn’t destroy anything and there were no bad guys shooting at us, it was just the chance to improve our bombing and strafing skills. All went well as we employed our weapons; we then ‘safed ’em up’ and rejoined to ‘fingertip’ formation to head home. Fingertip formation allows ATC to handle four aircraft as a single entity.
While heading west to MacDill at 4,500’ MSL and 300 KIAS, we conducted a ‘battle-damage’ check of our Vipers. This routine check is done any time you’ve employed weapons, but especially in combat situations. One pilot is directed to drop below and pass close behind the other planes in the flight to make sure there were no ‘hung bombs’ (i.e., they didn’t release) and there was no damage from enemy fire, ricocheting bullets, or ‘frag’ damage from the bombs we had dropped. When that pilot reported everything was OK, another pilot was directed to give his airplane the once-over.
If there were problems with an aircraft, you might have to declare an emergency. Hung bombs would require that you fly a hung bomb approach, which would avoid overflying populated areas as the bomb might release at an inopportune time. Damage to your aircraft might require a controllability check as it might affect your aircraft control or a change in your landing configuration (e.g., a no-flap landing when flaps are damaged).
So, as briefed, I directed #2 to make the battle-damage check on #’s 1, 3, and 4. After getting his report that we were all OK, I directed #4 to check #2, and his report was the same.
I then directed the flight to complete their ‘Approach to field’ check as well as an ‘Ops Check’. In their response, each flight member reported their fuel remaining, which let me know we could fit into the traffic pattern at MacDill without having to get special handling based on a low fuel state.
As we neared MacDill, I maintained 300 knots as I let down to 1,500 AGL, which is the pattern airspeed and altitude at MacDill. Although pointed toward Sun City, which sits a dozen miles southeast of MacDill, I was not going to overfly it; we always skirted its northern edge so as to not annoy our senior citizens. That’s when I heard the sound I never wanted to hear while airborne!
When flying commercially, have you ever listened to those planes equipped with high-bypass, turbofan engines as they shut down after parking? As the pilot moves the throttle(s) to cutoff, you hear something like “PTEWWWWWWWWWWWWW; that’s exactly what I heard, just like what I heard every time I shut down my F-16 after parking it in the chocks!
I immediately felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and quickly turned my attention to the engine instruments. I also turned my airplane so it was pointed directly towards Tampa Bay as I thought I might be employing my ejection seat in a few seconds.
The engine instruments all appeared normal—recall that an F-16 has only one engine—so I didn’t have to look at much to see that it was still running. However, continuing my scan down to the Caution Light Panel, I noted the needle in the quarter-sized gauge for the B-hydraulic system was swinging wildly back and forth; it then dropped to zero! When it did, the MASTER Caution Light illuminated and ‘Bitchin’ Betty’, the aural warning system*, sounded off with “WARNING! WARNING!” to let me know something bad had happened! NO KIDDING!!!! This was NOT good, but at least my engine was still running!!!!
Fortunately, the System-A and -B hydraulic systems were independently powered and my Viper’s flight controls were powered by both systems, so I could continue to control of my jet. However, I faced some significant problems with my System-B hydraulics inoperative; I couldn’t lower the landing gear normally and the wheel brakes, nosewheel steering, and anti-skid protection were inoperative.
Although System-B was D-E-A-D, there were backups for some of what I had lost. I could literally ‘blow down’ the gear using bottled nitrogen under 3,000 PSI of pressure; all I had to do was lower the gear handle and then pull the Alternate Gear Handle, a T-shaped handle on the left auxiliary console. For braking after landing, I had a reservoir of hydraulic pressure, but it provided a single application that is supposed to be one smooth motion (i.e., no pumping). With no backup for the anti-skid protection, my brake application definitely had to be smoooooth, i.e., NO STOMPING! Finally, there was no backup for the nosewheel steering!
After going through all of this in my mind, which took approximately 1.5 seconds, I declared an emergency with the MacDill tower. I also cleared the two students to break away and head straight to the base and get on the ground ASAP; I didn’t want to close the runway with them still in the air. I directed the IP in #3 to ‘chase’ me, which meant he would be alongside to observe that my gear ‘blew down’, to back me up on the checklist, and to make sure I didn’t get ‘behind the aircraft’ as I handled this emergency. If I indeed closed the runway, #3 could divert to nearby Tampa International (TPA).
The Operations Group commander, a full colonel and my immediate boss, came up on the tower frequency and advised that he was driving his staff car to the approach end of the runway to watch my landing. He also reminded me to land on the left side of the runway as an F-16 with System-B failure would always drift to the right after touching down. I had already thought of that as I went through all the ‘Cautions’ and ‘Warnings’ associated with this emergency in the F-16 flight manual. By the way, it was reassuring to hear his calm voice.
He also told me that, upon landing, I was to stop straight ahead on the runway and, with the engine still running, let the ground crew put the gear pins in place. He added that I was to not taxi clear of the runway; with no nosewheel steering, and my back-up braking depleted, he didn’t want me in the grass! Finally, he directed me to remain in the cockpit until the ground crew gave me the shut-down signal. At that time, they were going to hook up a tow bar to pull me off the runway and, once clear of the runway, I could then climb down from the cockpit.
I lined up for a straight-in approach about three miles from MacDill’s runway 04 and lowered the gear handle. I then pulled the Alternate Gear Handle and felt the gear drop into position. With the ‘three green’ on my instrument panel and the chase pilot telling me that the gear was down and locked, I radioed “Top Dawg Lead, Gear Check, Full Stop”. Tower immediately cleared me to land.
Although the MacDill runway is 500 feet wide, we only utilized the middle 300 feet of that span and, with the propensity of the Viper to drift right under this situation, I planned to touch down as far to the left as I could while staying inside the 300 foot ‘clear’ area we used. With a 12,000-foot-long runway, I wasn’t too worried about getting my Viper stopped, but I did want to stay on the pavement!
Touching down on-speed and on the numbers, I aero braked and then lowered the aircraft nose-gear gently to the ground and began my slow, smoooooth, one-time application of the brakes. The airplane definitely drifted to the right but, by the time I got it stopped with about 8,000 feet of runway in front of me, I was about 50 feet right of the centerline.
The ground crew quickly rolled up to my idling jet, installed the gear pins, and gave me the signal to shut down, which I did. They then hooked up a towbar to my nose-gear and pulled me onto the first available taxiway and, once stopped, signaled that I could raise the canopy. After they set a boarding ladder on the canopy rail, I unstrapped from my ejection seat, and climbed down. The boss waved me over to his car and told me to get in. He added, “Nice landing!” – I reckon he was right, I walked away from it and the airplane flew again!
Upon investigation of this incident, it was found that the engine-driven shaft powering the B-System hydraulics had sheared. I was greatly relieved that the designers had provided me with an independent System-A hydraulics so I could continue to fly my Viper. I was also glad that I had backups to configure the aircraft for landing and to get it stopped. After this incident, the only time I ever heard ‘the sound I didn’t want to hear’ again was when I was parked in the chocks and intentionally shut down the engine!
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In the story I submitted, the asterisk behind ‘Bitchin Betty’ is there, but the note associated with that asterisk was left out of the article. Here it is for your reading (and listening) pleasure…
* You can meet Boeing’s FA-18 ‘Bitchin’ Betty’ at this website (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yx7-yvXf6f8). When ‘Betty’ in the F-16 was ‘Bitchin’ she was telling you there was something you should look at (e.g., the beans on the stove have started boiling) she would say, in a mild tone, “Caution, Caution”. When the matter was critical (e.g., the turkey in the oven is on fire!) she spoke in a very urgent tone saying, “WARNING! WARNING!”
Backups, redundancy, independent systems are great! And some wonder why aircraft, especially military, are so expensive.
I’ll never forget my IP telling me, “Saving the plane ain’t worth your life. If you’re in an emergency situation and you can’t get her on deck safely, pull the (ejection) handle and give her back to the taxpayers. We’ve got plenty of other jets you can fly the next day, but we can’t replace you.” The “redundancy” I most appreciated in the F/A-18 was having two motors. The F/A-18 had back-up systems (hydraulics, gear, brakes, etc.) very similar to those noted in this story, but in my 20-year career flying F/A-18’s, on several occasions I’ve had an engine failure or I’ve had to shut a motor down in response to an emergency. Had I been flying an F-16, I would have become a “glider”. Without a suitable landing site within glide distance, the pilot ejects and the F-16 becomes the proverbial “Lawn Dart”. And, as noted by RichR below, it’s great to have a tailhook that is stressed to make a short-field arrested landing. In the Navy and Marine Corps, when flying from the boat, we have to catch a wire in a 120′ square box on a “runway” that is constantly moving. The “available runway” after touchdown is about 450′. ;-)
Super article! Well written and articulated,just like your emergency landing! Thankyou for putting this out. Great lessons learned.
Didn’t envy the F-16 “off roading” performance…it was nice to have a Grumman product with a tailhook rated for approach end E-28 gear with the option to go around and try again if hook skipped.
I considered taking the approach-end barrier and the departure-end barrier was available to me as well. However, with a 500 foot wide runway (we only utilized the center 300 feet, but I was not afraid of using that extra 100 feet on either side) and I was sure my back-up brakes would work. Had they not worked, I would have made my full-stop landing a touch-and-go and come back with the hook down!
Outstanding Job. Thank you for your service and your pilot skills. Great story.
My parents live in Sun City and are happy to have jets inbound to McDill come over anytime you’d like. My grandparents moved there in 1966 and felt the same way!
Allen, I once volunteered to speak to a group of Sun City residents touring MacDill. They were a very warm and receptive audience. When one lady asked why we had to fly by their homes, I explained how we entered the traffic pattern at MacDill and that involved skirting the edge of Sun City. I then asked if they noticed the white star on our jets when they had earlier been escorted around one in our hangars. She replied, “Yes, I saw that.” I reminded her that our enemies (especially the Russians and Cubans) have red stars on their jets and the sound they hear from us flying nearby is the ‘sound of freedom’. I got a round of applause for that comment! I was stationed at MacDill from late 1984 to mid 1989, so I may have been talking with some from your family!
What was it about the F-16 that would cause it to drift to the right in those circumstances?
Jeff, This was over 45 years ago and, seriously, I don’t recall! Perhaps someone at G/D the airplane designer/manufacturer (now Lock/Mart) could tell you, but I can’t. However, before this happened to me one of my pilots landed with a frozen engine (a buzzard went up the intake and the impact broke the oil seals in the engine, so it ran out of oil and seized!) and he made a successful dead-stick landing — the Air Force Chief of Staff personally flew into MacDill and presented him with a Distinguished Flying Cross for saving the jet and for not parking it in some taxpayer’s in north Tampa. He actually had the presence of mind to turn on his HUD video when this happened so the accident investigation team had some material with which to work and, as he slowed to a halt ON THE RUNWAY!, you could see the airplane drifting to the right. I wasn’t severe, but one always knew to land as far to the left as practical when faced with this problem.
Thanks, Dale. I wondered if it was something in the design of the landing gear that gave it that tendency or perhaps something aerodynamic in the airframe. I recall reading an article by Joe Bill Dryden in “Code One” magazine a long time ago about how some limits (and limitations) were simply due to funding. One example he gave was the maximum allowable crosswind for landing. He said he was sure it could be set higher than the official limit based on his experience, but the Air Force didn’t think it would happen enough with no other choice to land there then, so they didn’t fund the flight tests that could raise the limit. Maybe they also thought the drifting-to-the-right problem wouldn’t happen often enough and spent the funds on something else. I’m sure someone experiencing the drift or at least faced with trying to negate it would think once was more than often enough. :-)
Jeff, I also flew the T-38 Talon and when landing both it and the F-16 in a crosswind, you held the ‘crab’ through your touchdown and the jet would straighten out upon touchdown! Hence a limit for the stress on the landing gear/tires. Made for some interesting approaches, but as an IP in the backseat of both aircraft, it gave you a good look down the runway and, when shooting a no-flap in the T-38, that view helped your judgment on flaring to land at 145 knots when landing with less than a thousand pounds of JP-4 (plus one additional knot for each 100 pounds over 1000 remaining)!