Me and my buddy Sluggo were in NJROTC and Civil Air Patrol while in high school back in the '70s. He went to Annapolis, got his PPL and became a skydiver and scuba diver, which we shared minus the pilots license. Sluggo got certified to fly the T-34B at the NAS Atlanta flying club. He gave me a call one day and asked if I'd to go with him to Rucker then take a UH-1 to the Seafood Festival in Pensacola. Sluggo had taken some time off from his NFO schooling. Five minute later I was at NAS Atlanta. Not really, but I did go. Once clear of all the chatter with ATC he gave me the airplane and I flew for about 45 minutes, until needing to receive course changes and whatnot preparing to land. Once on the ground he let me try to taxi and the airplane began to swerve left, then right, then left again, then right then Sluggo said "I got it!" and the airplane was on the centerline again. The showoff….
I still had short hair, had not gotten fat yet, so I nonchalantly took a seat in the Huey and off we went. The helo flew no higher than a grand, the doors were wide open and I was amazed at all the sinkholes in Lower Alabama. Thank goodness I had ear plugs. That thing was LOUD. We enjoyed the festival then wop wopped back to Rucker and bid everyone goodbye and half an hour later we were off in the T-34.
While still over 'Bama, we saw a wall of dark clouds that topped way higher than we could climb. Sluggo was on the radio getting updates, and over the intercom I was told to get ready for some bad turbulence. Then we were in it, lightening, heavy rain and squirrelly winds. It was now dark, Sluggo was IFR, and I just held on. Suddenly a waterfall inundated cockpit, soaking us both and the instrument panels. We both screamed due to both the surprise and how cold the water was. Once it was over the instrument panel was dark. I leaned over to take a peek at Sluggo's. Dark, very dark. Then over the IC I hear "Can you hear me?"
Thankfully the IC was not affected. I pushed the button and said "yeah". Sluggo told me the instrument lights were done for, so he passed his huge Maglite onto the dash for me to use. I was to illuminate his instruments when he asked for it and check for ice on the tail and wings. Sluggo was on the radio again, and we were going to be diverted to Robins AFB in Warner Robins, GA, until they went below minimums. We were now committed to NAS Atlanta. As it turned out, the seals on the canopy had dry rotted.
As the dowdy little Mentor bounced along, the water sloshed around. It was malleolus deep, up to the little round bone on the ankle. That was a lot of water. I asked Sluggo if that would affect how the airplane flew, and said "So far, I can't tell anything. Let me know if you have any more depressing ideas". "No problem" I said, and tried to think of more.
There were times the airplane zoomed up, not nose first, just straight up as if on a freight elevator pushing us into the seats, then straight down and my arms would float in front of me. Lightning was everywhere, very bright bolts that lit up the inside for seconds at a time. I dutifully looked at the tail and wings and didn't see anything, then again I wasn't sure what it would look like either. So I asked Sluggo, who said "Probably just a build up on the leading edges. Great follow up to the first question"
"Thanks" I said, pleased with myself. Then I heard Sluggo start calling Dobbins tower. NAS Atlanta and Dobbins AFB, and Lockheed shared one very long, very wide runway. The tower was on the Dobbins side of the reservation. The NAS side was in the city of Smyrna, GA, and the Dobbins side was in Marietta, Ga.
The controller handed us off to the precision controller, who told Sluggo he need not reply to any more instructions. It was like a movie. Sluggo said "Keep an eye out for the runway lights". I said will do, and all I saw was dark. Dobbins was under minimums too.
Over my headset, "Hey, lower the gear for me…..and drop the flaps, I'll tell you when to stop." I acknowledge and with my left hand push the landing gear handle down and with my right hand pull the flap handle down until Sluggo tells me to stop. The GCI controller tells Sluggo to maintain glide slope, turn to such and such degrees, and the airplane responds to Sluggo's smooth control inputs. I see the throttle, mixture and prop cluster subtly move. I keep the flashlight aimed at his instrument panel.
We are descending, and outside the canopy is nothing but gray and white wisps and tendrils of cloud going past us. Then the cloud beneath begins to glow, the pulse, matching the unseen lights beneath us. Suddenly the runway is right in front of us, we are at 200 feet. I secure the flashlight, as Sluggo can see outside now. I sit back and lock my harness seconds before the wheels kiss the runway. I sigh in relief a bit too early, the little Beech is now hydroplaning. Sluggo deftly manipulates the rudder and brakes, closing the throttle, and the airplane settles down solidly as we slow.
Sluggo seems to deflate right before my eyes, like air is let out of his body. We take a right onto a taxiway as the controller praises Sluggo's airmanship. Sluggo thanks the controller and gives appreciation for his clear, calm instructions. Then in front of us is an Army reserve OV-1 Mohawk coming towards us. Sluggo pulls as far to the right as possible and stops, the Mohawk, which seems to be twice its normal size zips past us. Sluggo looks at me in the rear view mirror and says "what next?" "Maybe Godzilla" I reply.
We get to the Flying Club part of the ramp, and stop at the gas pump. We open the canopy and in the rain fill the wing tanks with fuel. I do the fueling so Sluggo can eloquently describe the failure of the canopy seals and that they will have to deal with the water still sitting on the cockpit floor. With a tow bar on the nose wheel, we muscle the orange and white little airplane to a parking place, chock and tie it down securely. Sluggo drops the form into a slot in the office door. We are the only people there, as it's after one in the morning. I offer to treat Sluggo to a gourmet Waffle House meal but he's exhausted, and demurs to head home for a hot shower and bed. We shake hands, I praise him saying he's a "damn fine stick and rudder man". We'd see each other again three months later at a skydiving boogie at Zephyr Hills Florida.
T-34B 544E, ex US Navy BuNo 140947 would be written off as a total loss on 8 June 1986 at Rome GA, crashing on takeoff. It was a Sunday, and yes, I was at Rome that day skydiving and telling everyone about my adventure in that very same airplane a year before. We heard it roar down the runway, and then we heard the smashing and crunching of metal as it crashed. The pilot was showing off by attempting to do a roll as the landing gear was retracted. No fatalities, but very bad injuries. It was like seeing an old friend die before one's eyes.
I still had short hair, had not gotten fat yet, so I nonchalantly took a seat in the Huey and off we went. The helo flew no higher than a grand, the doors were wide open and I was amazed at all the sinkholes in Lower Alabama. Thank goodness I had ear plugs. That thing was LOUD. We enjoyed the festival then wop wopped back to Rucker and bid everyone goodbye and half an hour later we were off in the T-34.
While still over 'Bama, we saw a wall of dark clouds that topped way higher than we could climb. Sluggo was on the radio getting updates, and over the intercom I was told to get ready for some bad turbulence. Then we were in it, lightening, heavy rain and squirrelly winds. It was now dark, Sluggo was IFR, and I just held on. Suddenly a waterfall inundated cockpit, soaking us both and the instrument panels. We both screamed due to both the surprise and how cold the water was. Once it was over the instrument panel was dark. I leaned over to take a peek at Sluggo's. Dark, very dark. Then over the IC I hear "Can you hear me?"
Thankfully the IC was not affected. I pushed the button and said "yeah". Sluggo told me the instrument lights were done for, so he passed his huge Maglite onto the dash for me to use. I was to illuminate his instruments when he asked for it and check for ice on the tail and wings. Sluggo was on the radio again, and we were going to be diverted to Robins AFB in Warner Robins, GA, until they went below minimums. We were now committed to NAS Atlanta. As it turned out, the seals on the canopy had dry rotted.
As the dowdy little Mentor bounced along, the water sloshed around. It was malleolus deep, up to the little round bone on the ankle. That was a lot of water. I asked Sluggo if that would affect how the airplane flew, and said "So far, I can't tell anything. Let me know if you have any more depressing ideas". "No problem" I said, and tried to think of more.
There were times the airplane zoomed up, not nose first, just straight up as if on a freight elevator pushing us into the seats, then straight down and my arms would float in front of me. Lightning was everywhere, very bright bolts that lit up the inside for seconds at a time. I dutifully looked at the tail and wings and didn't see anything, then again I wasn't sure what it would look like either. So I asked Sluggo, who said "Probably just a build up on the leading edges. Great follow up to the first question"
"Thanks" I said, pleased with myself. Then I heard Sluggo start calling Dobbins tower. NAS Atlanta and Dobbins AFB, and Lockheed shared one very long, very wide runway. The tower was on the Dobbins side of the reservation. The NAS side was in the city of Smyrna, GA, and the Dobbins side was in Marietta, Ga.
The controller handed us off to the precision controller, who told Sluggo he need not reply to any more instructions. It was like a movie. Sluggo said "Keep an eye out for the runway lights". I said will do, and all I saw was dark. Dobbins was under minimums too.
Over my headset, "Hey, lower the gear for me…..and drop the flaps, I'll tell you when to stop." I acknowledge and with my left hand push the landing gear handle down and with my right hand pull the flap handle down until Sluggo tells me to stop. The GCI controller tells Sluggo to maintain glide slope, turn to such and such degrees, and the airplane responds to Sluggo's smooth control inputs. I see the throttle, mixture and prop cluster subtly move. I keep the flashlight aimed at his instrument panel.
We are descending, and outside the canopy is nothing but gray and white wisps and tendrils of cloud going past us. Then the cloud beneath begins to glow, the pulse, matching the unseen lights beneath us. Suddenly the runway is right in front of us, we are at 200 feet. I secure the flashlight, as Sluggo can see outside now. I sit back and lock my harness seconds before the wheels kiss the runway. I sigh in relief a bit too early, the little Beech is now hydroplaning. Sluggo deftly manipulates the rudder and brakes, closing the throttle, and the airplane settles down solidly as we slow.
Sluggo seems to deflate right before my eyes, like air is let out of his body. We take a right onto a taxiway as the controller praises Sluggo's airmanship. Sluggo thanks the controller and gives appreciation for his clear, calm instructions. Then in front of us is an Army reserve OV-1 Mohawk coming towards us. Sluggo pulls as far to the right as possible and stops, the Mohawk, which seems to be twice its normal size zips past us. Sluggo looks at me in the rear view mirror and says "what next?" "Maybe Godzilla" I reply.
We get to the Flying Club part of the ramp, and stop at the gas pump. We open the canopy and in the rain fill the wing tanks with fuel. I do the fueling so Sluggo can eloquently describe the failure of the canopy seals and that they will have to deal with the water still sitting on the cockpit floor. With a tow bar on the nose wheel, we muscle the orange and white little airplane to a parking place, chock and tie it down securely. Sluggo drops the form into a slot in the office door. We are the only people there, as it's after one in the morning. I offer to treat Sluggo to a gourmet Waffle House meal but he's exhausted, and demurs to head home for a hot shower and bed. We shake hands, I praise him saying he's a "damn fine stick and rudder man". We'd see each other again three months later at a skydiving boogie at Zephyr Hills Florida.
T-34B 544E, ex US Navy BuNo 140947 would be written off as a total loss on 8 June 1986 at Rome GA, crashing on takeoff. It was a Sunday, and yes, I was at Rome that day skydiving and telling everyone about my adventure in that very same airplane a year before. We heard it roar down the runway, and then we heard the smashing and crunching of metal as it crashed. The pilot was showing off by attempting to do a roll as the landing gear was retracted. No fatalities, but very bad injuries. It was like seeing an old friend die before one's eyes.
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