Library Reference Number: 136
Murphy's Law
It was a winter's night in West Germany and the weather was right nasty - low cloud, poor visibility and no end in sight. Wildenrath - like all the other Clutch bases that night, was colour state yellow (very poor) and the only airfield which we could legally use as a diversion was a US base a long way off in the Eilfel where a full instrument approach procedure requiring let-down charts and thousands of gallons of fuel were needed.
The mission was hardly demanding - medium-level intercept training for my pilot who was in the middle of his squadron conversion training. He was a young first tourist. The crew of the other (target) aircraft were also both first tourists although they were operational crews having been through the conversion programme. Both pilots sported instrument ratings with decision heights as high as a small mountain (not good for getting back in poor weather!) Guess who was the authorising officer!
As we out-briefed, the Squadron boss casually walked past and asked if we had our tooth brushes with us!
Thanks, boss! Are you sure you want us to go?'
Yes, we need the hours!'
At this time in my illustrious career, I had a few hours under my belt and was aware that accidents were frequently caused by a number of small separate events which, in isolation, were probably of little consequence but when added together, created the circumstances for a major nasty. If it takes, say, 10 lumps of the proverbial to bring about an accident, I felt I had about 4 in my pocket already!
We took off into the murky night sky with our number two streaming 3 seconds behind us. As we climbed - our strobe light bouncing off the murk, the secondary Attitude system (AJB-7) in our aircraft failed for no apparent reason (lump 5!).
This wasn't catastrophic as we still had the primary inertial system plus there was an independent steam-driven machine somewhere down near the pilot's knees. The AJB-7 failure, however, was enough for me to make the decision to abandon the sortie. Taking into account the layers of cloud which we had just climbed through, I reasoned that the safest option was for us to join on our wingman in close formation (belt and braces) and have him lead us back to terra firma. My dilemma was where to go to. Should we set off across half of Germany to an unfamiliar US base with a protracted let-down procedure but hopefully better weather or should we go back to where we had just come from?
When I advocated joining in close formation on our wingman, my pilot made various expletive sounds then quivered and said that he hadn't done any night close formation for a long time and would prefer to stay well away from any other aircraft (lump 6!).
We popped up into a clear piece of sky and levelled off. At least we could stay here and fly visually if necessary for a while. Like somebody analysing an event in retrospect, I found myself calmly going through all the options and trying to assess the respective risk. We still had the primary attitude system plus the elastic band machine so were fit for a recovery on our own. Taking into account my pilot's concerns, a singleton recovery seemed the more opportune (euphemism for less risky) thing to do!
Murphy, however, was one step ahead of me for at that very moment, the Master caution warning light flashed and the primary attitude - the inertial system failed (lump7!). That put the Kybosh on a single recovery; there was no way we could descend through any cloud on our own. Whilst we still had the tertiary belt-driven system, it was located in such a place in the front cockpit as to positively encourage vertigo, the leans and any other disorientating tricks which the body could play. As a last resort, it had a role in life but we weren't quite there yet!
We requested updates on weather at base and at the US diversion and received reports that there were no changes.
For my part, I had no official attitude reference at all; however, I recall disabling the radar stabilisation system (if indeed it was still working) and pointing the radar towards the ground. By studying the ground returns, it was possible to determine which way we were banking. Well, it was better than nothing.
Whilst we were only too aware of Wildenrath's weather and that in the immediate area, I wondered again about going to the US diversion where the weather was still being reported as good. In the light of our new situation, I carried out another risk assessment (modern day speak) analysing the protracted piece of night close formation flying with complicated let-down procedure at the far end - it was the stuff of IRTs and would all be completely unfamiliar to the junior crew who would have to lead us there. There would still be cloud to descend through. What if we got split up on the way there, could we rely on joining back up again? This was on top of my pilot's reluctance to do any night close formation. I imagined another lump of the proverbial being added to the pot and decided to stick to close-by Wildenrath with its familiar procedures and friendly English voices.
I felt like we were playing a game of chess with Murphy (I was never very good at chess!) and I was desperate to break the trend that might lead to an accident. The flight so far reminded me of flying an exercise in the simulator where the instructor had decided it was time for the crew to carry out an ejection. Typically, he would gradually fail more and more equipment until the aircraft stopped flying and the crew had no option than to punch out.
We got the Clutch controller to update base and diversion weather for us yet again. Wildenrath was no better but no worse. The US base was cited as being reasonable. I mentally went through a whole bunch of what-ifs. What if we lost visual on our formation lead when descending through cloud close to the ground; what would we do? What if we couldn't join up? I thought each scenario through and tried to come up with solutions and options.
We had declared an emergency by this stage and announced our need to join up. As far as I recall, we were still under control of Clutch radar and hadn't been handed over to the GCI unit which would have been the better option for joining up. Our aim, however, was not to persevere with the mission but to return to base and the less changes of frequency required the better. Accordingly, we asked Clutch to help us join up. We flew about in clear air whilst the junior crew of the other aircraft carried out an intercept on us. Praise be to the youngsters, they carried out a good intercept and eventually joined on our right hand side. We handed them the lead so that we could move into close formation on them as we headed back towards Wildenrath.
As per procedures, we asked the lead aircraft to put his external lights to steady (strobes off) then to dim them. His aircraft suddenly disappeared as he turned all his external lights off. (lump number?).
We were just initiating loss of leader procedure when his lights came back on followed by a 'Sorry!' over the RT! Our hearts went back down our throats to where they usually lived!
Following instructions from the ground, we left the sanctuary of clear air where there was a faint horizon and descended into the murk. If we had to initiate lost leader now, the likelihood of losing control of the aircraft with nothing but a poorly located tertiary steam-driven attitude indicator to fly by was high.
My pilot may not have been the smoothest night formation flyer but he did a brilliant job and stuck in there like a bee to a honeypot throughout the descent and radar pattern. With a great sigh of relief, Wildenrath approach lights broke through the gloom and we landed on a runway which was as dark and wet as when we had taken off.
The story wasn't quite over yet for Murphy had been keeping another little chess trick up his sleeve in case we had elected to go to the US diversion base. Having walked into the Ops room, we discovered that the US base - you recall the one with the good weather forecast, had long since become socked in with cloud on the deck and zero visibility sometime during our mission! Why this message hadn't got to us I don't know but looking back over twenty years, it hardly matters.
I don't know how many lumps we accrued on that sortie but, as for our game of chess. I think we managed to outsmart Murphy!