# A Four Engine Primary Trainer



## MIflyer (Aug 7, 2020)

_Just got this in an e-mail_

STUPIDLY I THOUGHT I WAS A 'HOT PILOT... Til A Real Professional Showed Me Up.... And He Saved Our XXX
It happened in Germany in 1965 in a C-124. I was a new brand-new USAF co-pilot.... therefore I thought I knew, everything there was to know.... about zooming around with airplanes.

And I was frustrated by left-seaters.... like my Aircraft Commander. He was one of those by-the-numbers types, no class, no imagination. And no "feel" for really zipping around. A pilot who knows that he's the real deal needs only to be in tune with that airplane neath the hands and feet.

So what if your flight altitude is a little bit off. So what if the glideslope indicator is showing that you're off a few hairs from from a picture-perfect relationship with its indices. If it feels okay 'round your bones '.... hey man.... just do it.

Every time he let me make an approach, even in VFR conditions, he demanded perfection. Not the slightest deviation would he allow. "If you can't stick those needles like they've been painted on those dials.... when there's no threat to deal with.... you surely will not be able do it when a pucker factor situation occurs," he told me.
Then told me again.
And again.

When this Command Pilot shot an instrument approach with his own hands, I critically stared at the gauges. And it looked as though each of his instrument readings.... were frozen on their dials. But this man had no pizazz and class. I comment to myself.

Then IT happened.... during a routine flight from the Azores.... to Germany. The weather was supposed to be good. We'd loaded 45,000 pounds of gas. Along with crew and cargo.... sending the C-124 Globemaster's overall weight up to only 180,000 pounds. Hey.... we were 5,000 pounds BELOW max gross! We could fool around and sight see a little bit... maybe buzz around some old castles. It would be an easy, routine flight. And we'd be soon be sitting at the O'Club.... drinking that fine German beer.

Halfway to Europe's mainland, the weather below began turning.... absolutely sour for eye-ball type landings.
As I continued getting weather updates.... they got worse. As we entered France, our destination's visibility and landing ceiling fell to zero/zero. On the other hand, we had not just ONE.... but a couple of landing alternatives.
Then zip.... zip.... and both of the alternatives degraded to zero/zero. Then.... ALL weather minimums on France's longest runways were violated by low scud and heavy fog.

On the other hand, this low goop had moved in. So eventually it was going to move on out. Betting it might improve, we eased back to less gas-guzzling power settings, reduced RPMs, and circled around in a circular holding pattern over a nav beacon.

Things disimproved. Big time.... our timing was not good.

Somewhere.... a fighter pilot declared an emergency with minimum fuel. He shot two landing approaches. But he saw nothing at all.... even when he [ most likely ] violated IFR minimums to search a bit lower. After a third try, his single engine fighter flamed out.... so he punched out to use his parachute.

My left seater then decided we would try a precision radar approach in the current goop. Although the landing surface below.... was intensely obscured. As the sun began setting to add significant threat. And I started to sweat a little.... and my pulse picked up. Things around the airplane got dimmer, so I turned on the instrument lights. Then glancing out toward the right wing tip, I could NOT even make out its bright navigation light. And I could barely make out a dull glow from our red hot exhaust stacks. And as we further reduced power and RPM's to maximum endurance.... even that friendly exhaust glow vanished.

The left seater asked the engineer where we stood on fuel? The flight engineer answered: " I don't know, Sir. But.... my readings are so LOW.... the book says our current readings are NOT reliable." Next to him, our navigator's eyes be came huge.?

Why's that? We did NOT carry any parachutes on regularly scheduled MAC flights. So we could NOT merely parachute out as that fighter pilot had just done. Somehow, we had to safely land 'Old Shaky.' Or auger in.

The pilot asked me to find out which nearby fighter base had the widest runway. As I looked it up, he declared an emergency. Then turned in the direction of the wide runway I'd just found.

The pilot began our emergency landing briefing: "This will be for real. There WILL NOT BE A MISSED APPROACH ! We are going to land right.... NOW. We will use this base's Instrument Landing System.? But are also going to listen to the Precision Radar guy.... to keep us honest...."

"Co-pilot, don't give me full flaps.... I say again. Give me just 20 degrees of flap. That will make our deck angle almost level.... giving us less of a nose up move.... during landing flare."

Why hadn't I thought of that? Now where were my cocky feelings? And my perception of classy opinions?

The emergency briefing continued: "I'm going to lock my eyes on the gauges. And you must be ready to take over to finish this landing.... but ONLY if you see the runway. I do not want to be caught trying to transition to visual.... one second before touchdown." Hey.... he's even involving me in his plans. The man's not that rigid after all.

"Now. On the way down final, I want you to call out each 100 feet of descent to this runway. But when we get down to 100 feet above the runway, I want you to switch over to the radar altimeter for more precise numbers. Then start calling off every 25 feet. At the same time, I want you to watch and keep me honest on airspeed.

"Engineer.... listen up. When we touch down, I am going to shut down all engines' fuel mixtures with the master shut off. When that happens.... I need you to cut off all the magneto switches.... to kill ignition on all engines.

"Are there any questions? None? Okay let's go! "

All of a sudden, this numbers robot.... was making lots of sense. It looks like he IS the professional. And I need to know more about flying airplanes....

To reduce gasoline usage, we made a tailored turn.... then the ground radar guys directed us to the outer marker for the wide runway. We flew over the outer marker, then turned toward the runway. And during the next half a mile, I carefully called out each item on the checklist.... wheels down and locked.... flaps 20 degrees.... the ILS course deviation indicator seemed painted in place. And the glide slope marker began an almost hydraulically smooth trip down.

The pilot asked for a slight power reduction. As the flight nose lowered slightly, all flight instruments, except for the altimeter slowly... seemed acid-etched on their dials.

It was amazing! It was gorgeous!

This man indeed had a feel for that enormous bird.... airplane! As his brain touched each relevant problem, 135,000 pounds of 'Old Shaky' responded instantly to the quality of his thinking.

"Five hundred feet" I called out. Then "400 feet.... 300 feet.... MATS minimums at 200 feet..100 feet," Now I'm using the radar altimeter.... "nothing visual while showing 75 feet.... now 50 feet with nothing.... 25 feet and still nothing. Airspeed = 100 knots."

The airplane's bulbous nose rotated upward a couple of degrees.... diminishing forward speed to begin a landing flare. Nothing. The pilot then casually but clearly said: "Hang on, we're landing".... showing 90 knots.... and easing down through 10 feet. "HERE WE GO !"

Without taking his eyes off the instruments, his right hand reached up and shut down all of the fuel mixtures. While ordering the engineer to cut all the engines' magnetos to reduce chances of fire.

I could barely feel anything. It was one of the smoothest and best landings I have ever experienced.... a massive parasite drag must have started the tires spinning. And during that magnificent moment.... I couldn't even tell if we were on the runway.... except I saw runway lights.... blurring by.

"Copilot, verify hydraulic booster is on for brakes and for steering." I complied saying: "Hydraulic boost pump on.... pressure is up."

The brakes were applied slowly---none of us wanted to broad-side skid this huge beast.... inside the thick cloud lying on the runway.

I glanced left. The pilot was still flying on instruments.... and precisely steering us down the runway through the thick 'goop'. "Airspeed, 50 knots". We might make it yet. "Airspeed, 25 knots." We're going make it unless we drop into a ravine.... off the end.

I now hear a strange set of sounds.... the whirl of gyros winding down, the buzz of the inverters clicking off. And a low frequency thumping inside my chest. The thumping was.... my heart pounding. Understandably.... there was total silence from each human in that cavernous cockpit. The airplane was standing still.

Forever a competent professional, the left-seater said: "Now read the After-landing Checklist. And turn off all those electric motors, radar. And turn off all unnecessary radios off before we kill our batteries."

"Copilot, radio the Tower that we've arrived. And have them send a 'follow me' truck.... because I can't even see the edge of this runway."

The Tower guys didn't believe we were sitting out there. They'd gone outside.... but they couldn't hear or see a thing. We assured them we were sitting out there.... somewhere on their runway's localizer centerline. And we parked.... straight ahead.

We waited about 20 minutes for the 'follow me' truck. And we paused to allow adrenalin-charged hearts to ease down from our throats.

Then I felt something bump into us. It felt like our nose wheels had just run over taxiway bump. But we weren't moving. I asked the loadmaster to check to see what happened. He dropped open the heavy belly door and it struck something and made a loud, metallic bang.

He came on the interphone: "Sir, you'll never believe this. In this fog, the 'follow-me' truck guy couldn't see us. So he ran smack into our nose tire, truck bounced off and nothing's hurt on our airplane."

The pilot then told Tower that we were going to park right where it was.

I climbed down to assist ' buttoning up '.... I was startled to see Old Shakey's nose tires parked on each side of the now closed runway's centerline. We had not even needed to use that wide runway.

Our total damage was a dent in the 'follow me' truck's hood. And the driver's down-cast embarrassment.... knowing everyone on base would know about his folly before he'd slid into his bed.

And I finally began to understand. Being a great pilot isn't all 'seat-of-the-pants flying' and glory. It's professional self-discipline, cunning analysis and a dedicated life-time of precise flying.

Like that Command Pilot said: " If you can't stick the gauges when everything's fine, how can you possibly do it when your back's up against an unforgiving wall?"

Charles Svoboda

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## vikingBerserker (Aug 7, 2020)

That was a good read, thanks for posting!

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## rochie (Aug 7, 2020)

Fantastic


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## Dash119 (Aug 7, 2020)

A great cautionary tale for all new pilots.


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## tlott01 (Aug 13, 2020)

Hold yourself to the highest standards and you will not be disappointed when it really counts.


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## Gnomey (Aug 13, 2020)

Excellent!


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## MIflyer (Aug 13, 2020)

I recall reading Earnest K Gann's description of he, as a co-pilot, flying on instruments when his captain, a man of vast experience, began lighting matches and holding them up between his face and the instrument panel. He was later thankful for that special training.


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