Gus and I Share the Feeling - Brief Article

I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid, and I vividly remember watching the TV coverage of their triumphant return after each mission. Now I have something in common with one of the astronauts -- Gus Grissom, my hero and unknowing mentor--and it's not just the Tang I drank.

I was relieved the day the Navy helicopter community decided to take the emergency flotation bags off the H-60s, probably more than any other helo pilot. Numerous maintenance and aircrewmen have accidentally, and embarrassingly, inflated the float bags in hangars or out on the flight line, but I have the distinction of being the only H-60 pilot to have inflated them in flight, intentionally or otherwise. Yes, that's right, while airborne.

There I was, flying low over the Caribbean Sea, a fairly new HAC enjoying an easy, laid-back, and short underway period aboard an FFG as part of the mighty Orange Forces going up against the Ike battle group. Our main airborne mission was to target the high-value units for our ship so we could simulate an over-the-horizon Harpoon shot. The flying was great, and the exercises were challenging, with very little stress for us, because we were supposed to lose anyway.

One early evening, we had magnificently infiltrated the battle group (I could tell you how, but it's classified) while they were transiting the Virgin Passage, and we had just radioed the positions of all the ships when it started getting dark. We had been using our stabilized binoculars. Earlier, I had commented to my crew about the awkwardness of the neck strap. It was hard to set the binoculars down for a second without getting the strap caught on something.

Since it was getting dark, I decided to put the binoculars away. They were sitting on the center console, and when I picked them up, there was a loud bang like a shotgun, followed by a loud, airy, whooshing sound. For about three seconds, I had no idea of what was going on; I was terrified. We were at about 500 feet and 90 knots.

Instinctively, I took the controls, and the aircraft shook from the vibrations. I then realized we were still flying, and the vibrations decreased. I let the copilot take the controls and tried to figure out what had just happened. I looked out the window and could just make out the outline of the port float bag, violently banging up and down on the side of the aircraft. The emergency flotation bags had inflated! Holy cow, I knew that this one was definitely not in the PCL! Time to do some of that HAC stuff.

I told the copilot to slow down, and as we got below 50 knots, the float bags stopped banging so violently; at least they stopped scaring the heck out of us. We discussed the situation as a crew, and, as we weren't far from our ship, we asked them to set emergency flight quarters. They asked why, but I did not want to tell them it was because of the two big balloons sticking off the sides of the aircraft.

What would my OinC say when we got back? How would I explain this one? We eventually told the LSO what was going on so he could understand that we were not in immediate danger of going in the water--at least, we didn't think so. When we got to our ship, they weren't ready for us to land, so we had to orbit a mile aft of the ship while they got set up. Each time we came around into the relative wind, in a right turn, the left float bag started banging around like it was going to rip off the aircraft. What would happen if it ripped off? It was made of Kevlar and could go up into the main or tail rotors.

Finally, they gave us a green deck, and we came in for a landing. As we got below 30 knots, the float bags finally settled out and stopped banging around. As we came across the deck, my OinC only said one thing, "My helo has the mumps!" Unfortunately, we were then down for night and IMC flight for the rest of the cruise because we had lost our port and starboard position lights, which were on the float-bag covers that blew off as the float bags inflated. But the good news is that we brought both the crew and helo back safely. I learned a valuable lesson on that one: If something is not right, don't ignore it; fix it. I should have taken that neck strap off earlier in the day, and it would not have had a chance to ruin my night.

Now you know why Gus Grissom is my hero; and by the way, I believe Gus said it best: "It just blew!"

LCdr. Wolfe flies with HSL-48.

COPYRIGHT 2000 U.S. Naval Safety Center
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