Vertigo, A Short Story by B. E. Smith
Vertigo
A Short Story
By B.E. Smith
February 18, 2018
Bobby Smith, Lieutenant junior grade, U S Navy, woke up in his apartment on D Street in Coronado, California. He was sweating, breathing heavily with a tense notion of fear in his belly. Harriet was in the bed beside him. She noticed that he was trembling slightly. No wonder, today was the day he had been training for over the past six months, he was going to land on the carrier at night for the first time in his life.
Jim Jolin, Ltjg. USN, a graduate of Notre Dame NROTC, woke up in his bachelor apartment looking forward to his first night carrier landings.
Detachment Echo of All Weather Attack Squadron 35 met in the squadron ready room at 1530 Navy time, September 8, 1958. Lt. Yenowine was leading the briefing for the flight out to the carrier, the USS Bennington, CVA 20.
“Tonight’s the night,” George told the other four members of Detachment Echo. We’ve been practicing carrier landings on land for the last month and each one of us has made at least 100 practice landings. Tonight, however, we will be landing on a moving ship for the first time. Lcdr. Johnson and I have previous night landing experience on other cruises; for the rest of you, this will be your cherry. Don’t worry; it’s just like landing on the field except the ship is moving through the water, rolling from side to side, and pitching up and down. Oh yea, and tonight will be especially horrendous because there is a strong Pacific storm approaching the area where the ship will be operating, 40 knot winds and 30 feet waves. That will add to the excitement. But we’re Naval Aviators, that’s what we do.”
Smith started to sweat, scared out of his mind. Jolin did not care. He feared nothing. Lcdr. Johnson was ambivalent. He was not flying tonight. George and Dick were somewhat tense but calm.
“We will fly four planes out to the Bennington. Lcdr. Johnson will miss this one and I will lead the formation to the ship to start us in the landing pattern. Smith, Beishline, and Jolin will follow in order. “
“Flight briefing will start at 1730 in this ready room. I’ll give you more details on the landings and the weather at that time. Takeoff is scheduled for 1830 and we will be in the landing pattern at 1900. We will be solo in each plane and will make between four to six landings each. We will use the CAT for launch between landings.”
“Does anybody have any questions?”
“OK, no questions. Go home and get some rest, eat a light dinner and meet back here at 1730.”
Bobby Smith got into his 1956 red and white Chevrolet Bel Air and drove the two miles to his apartment. Harriet, seven months pregnant, was waiting for him with Clay, their 13-month-old son and Hannibal, the Dachshund, unaware of the tension of Bobby’s life.
“We’re scheduled for takeoff out to the Bennington at 6:30 and we’ll be flying solo tonight. The weather is terrible but so far, they have not cancelled the flight,” Bob stated.
“ I’m pretty nervous but I can do it and I will do it,” Bobby Smith told Harriet.
“I know you will. You are just as good a pilot as any of the others. Just relax and do what you have been training for for the past 2 years.”
“Thanks for your support. I need that.”
Harriet made grilled cheese sandwiches and poured Bobby a glass of milk. This will give you some nourishment. You will do just fine.”
At 5 p.m. Bob got back in his Chevrolet and drove to the squadron where he changed into his flight gear and seated himself on time in the squadron ready room. Lt. Yenowine was already there and Jim and Dick came in shortly afterwards in that order.
“Our call sign tonight is Camel Driver. I will be Camel Driver 840, Smith 841, Beish 842 and Jolin 843. We will take off on Runway 18 at 1830. Each of us will be flying solo. Rendezvous 15 miles west of San Diego Tacan at 2500 feet in order of takeoff. I will lead us out to the ship using 122.4. It should be about 75 miles west. Ship’s call sign is Alamo.”
“Weather is bad. Ceiling 500 feet or less, visibility ½ to 1 mile. High winds and heavy seas. You need to be prepared for bolters where you don’t catch a wire and have to go around for another try. If you miss one of the four wires, just apply full power and within two seconds, you will be flying again. Our modern carriers with angle deck are made for bolters, so don’t worry. Get back in the landing pattern and try again. Don’t forget your landing check list and remember to put down your landing gear and tail hook.”
“Other squadrons will also be in the landing pattern, jets, and VA 195 AD’s. Join the pattern as directed by the Air Boss, 300 feet and 98 knots.”
After the briefing, the four pilots headed for their aircraft, signed off from maintenance, went through their ground checks and started the engines. Each one called the tower for clearance to taxi,
“North Island Tower, this is Camel Driver 840, request clearance to taxi.”
“Roger, 840, Cleared to taxi, Runway 18, winds south at 15, barometric pressure 29.96.”
Each pilot got clearance to Runway 18 and the three rookies fell in line behind Lt. Yenowine, taxiing, now in the dark, to the end of Runway 18 where they would perform their final flight engine checks and call for takeoff.
“Camel Driver Flight, this is 840. I’ve got a low oil pressure reading and will have to cancel this flight.”
“Oh shit,” thought Smith, I am now the flight leader.”
“Camel Driver flight, this is 842. I’ve got a low mag check and will have to cancel also.”
“842, this is 841. Roger that. It will just be me and Jim heading out.”
“843, your engine checks ok,?”
“Roger, ready for takeoff.” 843 replied.
“North Island Tower, this is Camel Driver 841, request clearance for takeoff, VFR, flight of two.”
“Roger 841, you and your wingman cleared for take off in order. Winds 15 knots from the South. Pressure 29.96.
“Tower, this is Camel Driver, 841, rolling.”
Smith applied full power. The R3350 engine responded with 2700 horsepower driving the 14000-pound dive bomber down Runway 18. It was pitch dark except for the runway lights and Smith used his brakes at first and then his rudder to keep the plane on a straight path for takeoff.
Jolin waited 45 seconds and followed 841 down Runway 18.
When Smith was airborne, heading South, gear and flaps up, he had the bright lights of the Mexican border town, Tijuana, just in front of him giving him a good horizon to use for visual reference. When he passed 1500 feet in his climb, Smith started a right turn to a heading of 270, West.
The ocean was pitch black and it merged seamlessly with the sky which was also pitch black. Smith was still flying visual references towards the blackness where there were no references at all. Smith’s brain suddenly became confused. He did not know whether he was going straight or turning, climbing on descending. He realized that he had vertigo, having lost all spatial recognition. This was an emergency, a crisis that required him to get control of the plane within a second or two or he would die while crashing into the ocean.
Jim would probably die too as he tried to fly formation on an unstable leader in a two-plane formation.
Smith moved his controls up, then down, right, then left. His mind was blank and on the verge of panic. The more he moved the controls, the worse his brain resisted. “You’ve got to get control. Stay calm, don’t panic. Get on instruments,” he told himself.
Bob remembered his instrument flight training. This is vertigo. Stop looking outside and get on instruments. He glanced down at his attitude gyro which showed him the orientation of the plane. His nose was down, and he was turning right, harder and harder.
Smith immediately leveled his wings to stop the turn. He then pulled back on the control stick raising the nose of the aircraft just above the artificial horizon shown on the gyroscope instrument. He was now flying straight in a slight climb. Using his rate of climb indicator, he verified that he was climbing at 500 feet per minute. His air speed quickly stabilized at 140 knots, the proper climb speed. He passed through 2500 feet and his senses returned to normal. He was heading 270.
Smith looked out his canopy and saw Jolin’s plane in a nose down right turn, heading straight for the ocean.
“Jim, get on your instruments.” Smith yelled over the UHF radio.
843 leveled off and Smith could see him climbing back towards his right wing. The crisis was over.
“843, this is 841. Are you ok?”
“Roger, back in the saddle but that was quite an experience. We should have realized that turning away from the lights of Tijuana to a dark ocean would create vertigo.”
“You’ve got that right,” Smith replied. “Let’s switch to ship’s radio frequency 228.4.”
“Roger, switching now,” replied Jolin.
“Alamo, this is Camel Driver 841, flight of two, checking in for landings.”
“Roger, 841, enter the pattern at 2500 feet and hold five miles north of the ship for your turn in the pattern. Be advised we have high winds and heavy seas; be prepared for pitching and rolling deck with possible bolters.”
“Alamo, this is Camel Driver 841, roger the holding pattern and we are prepared for pitching deck—I hope.”
The two Camel Driver Skyraiders followed their navigation gear to their holding position five miles north of the ship at 2500 feet. They were in heavy clouds at that position. Jim had to stay close aboard to Smith’s right wing to be able to see him at all.
Radio chatter from planes in the landing pattern was intense. Some pilots sounded like they were on the verge of panic. Jet pilots were more frantic than the propeller pilots because they were so much more sensitive to running out of fuel. A bolter uses a lot of fuel in the wave off giving the jet pilots less flexibility than the prop pilots faced.
“Camel Driver 841, you and your wingman are cleared to enter the landing pattern at 300 feet. Please advise when you are turning downwind.”
“Roger, 841 and 843, cleared to enter the landing pattern. Will advise when turning downwind.”
Smith and Jolin descended to 300 feet on the same course as the ship was steaming.
“Alamo, this is Camel Driver 841, turning downwind.”
“Roger 841, you are cleared for landing. Report gear down and locked, tailhook down when abeam the ship.”
Smith executed his landing check list, gear down and locked, canopy open, seat belt locked, tailhook down. When he passed abeam the ship, it was on his left-hand side and barely visible even though it was less than a half mile away. “841, gear down and locked, tailhook down,” he reported to the Air Boss.
“Roger 841, report meatball.”
Smith lowered his flaps to full and set his throttle for 98 knots. The landing signal officer would not allow any deviations from the correct landing speed as he turned left into the final leg of the landing pattern. When he was about half way through the final turn, at 300 feet and 98 knots, he picked up the landing lights on the deck, a pattern of white lights outlining the runway where he would land. Four wires just forward of the stern of the ship were in place to catch the tail hook using hydraulic pressure to stop the plane in 100 feet.
“Alamo, this is 841, Meatball, 2000 pounds of fuel.”
“Roger, cleared to land.”
Smith had now acquired the meatball, a mirror image of an orange light that when lined up with two green horizontal lights on the ship’s mirror, meant that the plane was at the right elevation. Keeping the two sets of lights aligned with the meatball in the center of the mirror meant that the plane was descending on the proper glide slope which would ensure the hook engaged the third wire. If the plane was high in the glide slope, the meatball would be above the three datum lights, and the pilot had to adjust for being high. The reverse was also true.
As 841 approached the deck, Smith kept the meatball right in the center, but the Bennington was rolling and pitching due to high winds and seas.
When 841 passed over the fantail at 98 knots, the Landing Signal Officer, gave the signal to cut his engine and make the landing. Smith was on course and on speed. He pulled the throttle all the way to zero, took a slight dip downwards with his control, and caught the third wire. A nearly perfect landing, in rough seas. Bob was proud of himself.
Smith and Jolin made four landings with no bolters. They also made three cat shots.
“841 this is Alamo. Landings complete. Bingo, North Island.”
“Roger, 841 and flight leaving the landing pattern, heading to North Island.”
Smith setup a climb to 3500 feet and by the time he reached altitude, he had flown above the cloud layer where a beautiful moon and bright stars greeted him. A welcome sight. Jolin punched above the clouds and took up formation on Smith’s right wing.
“841, this is 843, I’ve got a problem, my airspeed indicator has gone out. I’ve been flying without it for the last three landings.”
“Roger, man, you’ve been landing at night in that weather without an airspeed. That’s crazy. Hang in with me and promise to fly straight this time. I’ll get you home or at least to the point where you can make a landing without an airspeed.”
“Roger, that. Thanks. That was quite an exciting night.”
Smith dialed in the San Diego Tacan– 090 degrees, 78 miles.
They flew quietly for the next 20 minutes and Smith called the North Island tower for landing.
“North Island Tower, this is Camel Driver 841, flight of two, 20 miles west for landing.”
“841, North Island, we are socked in–fog. Zero visibility at present. Suggest you divert to El Centro which is Clear and 15 miles visibility.”
“Roger, we are diverting to El Centro on a IFR flight plan.”
“843, 841, OK with you.”
“Roger, I especially don’t want to try a zero viz landing with no airspeed indicator.”
“San Diego Air Traffic Control, this is Camel Driver 841, Flight of two AD Skyraiders, request clearance IFR to El Centro.”
“Roger 841, you are cleared to El Centro, climb to and maintain 6000 feet.”
“Roger San Diego, leaving 3500 feet enroute to El Centro, maintain 6000 feet.”
“841 this is San Diego, roger, you are cleared to El Centro Tower, 238.4.”
“841 switching to El Centro tower. “
Smith and Jolin landed at El Centro, parked their planes at the maintenance hangar and got to the Bachelor Officer’s Quarters where they checked in for the night and managed to get to the bar for a beer before closing.
“That’s the scariest thing I have ever done,” Smith told Jolin as they sat at the bar.
“I agree. Especially that part at the beginning when we were both out of control. I thought we were goners.”
The next morning, the two rookies had breakfast at the BOQ and returned to the hangar. Jim’s airspeed indicator had been repaired. They got in their planes and flew back to North Island, where the fog had lifted, and the visibility was 10 miles.
Bob drove home and walked into his apartment about noon. Harriet and Clay and Hannibal were waiting.
“How did it go,” Harriet asked.
“It scared the shit out of me, but I ended up leading a two-man flight, made four night carrier landings in the worst possible weather. I was proud of myself. The fog had North Island closed when we got back.
“I told you, you could do it. Congratulations on your first night carrier landings,” Harriet replied adding to her many past comments of encouragement she had given Bob.”
“Thanks, what’s for lunch?”
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