Afghan Air Angst
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Editor's Note: This feature was forward to us anonymously from the frontlines of Afghanistan. We can not verify authorship or authenticity, but it sound's damn real — some of the fun experienced by one U.S. Navy Hornet pilot....
Here is his after-burner tale:
Thought y'all might get a kick out of a recent experience of mine. I'll chop this for an 'Approach' article. Thinking the bits about the hot Air Force chicks is probably gonna have to come out. I'll leave in all the trash talkin' though.
In case anyone asks, flying around in an F18 without a canopy is bad for the skin. Twenty thousand feet over Afghanistan in an open-air McDonnell Douglas Cabriolet is just a bad, bad place. Air's real dry up there; causes the skin to dry out. That and the wind chill of course.
0130 launch: Fifth and final planned tanker rendezvous. (25K MSL guessing 280-285 knots). Had 13.0 onboard but wanted to run my wingman back through because he only had 10.0 or so with an hour and a half to recovery. Sun was not up (0600) but it was bright enough. My goggles and goggle bracket were both stowed. Tanker had finished consolidating a half hour before and had four recievers (including myself) immediately afterwards. I was the fifth guy to tank. The boom operator recycled the hose between me and number four (dash two of the oncoming Marine section). The boom operator called "clear" before I tanked. Tanking appeared normal to me. Air was smooth. Hose cut loose and I pulled the power back and picked up the nose in order to try and "ride the wave."
Refueling probe did not feel too much stress based on vibrations I felt in the cockpit. Hose seperated about seven feet up from the basket. KC10 take-up reel on the refueling hose didn't do it's job. Didn't take up. After some wailing and flailing the KC10 and I disconnected but I still had part of it with me. The basket and seven feet of hose. The hose had a ten pound fitting on it that was quickly revealed when the wind stripped off the rubber sheath from the hose. Once revealed it proceeded to beating the living shit out of my airplane. "This is gonna be bad, this is gonna be real bad," I thought. I was right. After twenty sufficiently violent whacks the canopy gave up the ghost. I never thought about what a shattering canopy would sound like. Up until then, of course. I figured since it's made of plastic it shouldn't sound like glass. Wrong. Sounded just like when you go flying through a plate glass window. Of course, all the glass went out vice in. Cockpit went from eight grand to ambient in about a heart beat, which was a pretty small unit of time right then.
Don't know exactly where the KC10 went. Last I saw him he was turning for the sout west, spewing gas in the air and spewing words over the radio. "Bossman" had no time for little 'ole me. One of his Air Force brethren was experienced in discomfort. Had to yell at him to get his attention.
At first (before I put the top down) I thought I could make it home. "Okay, it's 650 away, I got 13.5....probably have to go pretty slow and kinda low. And that hunk o' shit on my nose can't be doing much for my gas mileage. This should warrant a ready deck. Yeah, one or two passes before they have to barricade me. And I ain't boltered yet so..."
Descended about three thousand feet and decelerated to about 260 by the time the canopy blew. Then the glass shattered.
"Okay, Jacobabad it is. My boarding rate at a 10,000 foot airstrip is even better."
Went down to about nineteen K and put out the speedbrake. Fitting was still beating up the jet while passing through 240 knots. At about 230 the beatings stopped and I started down, maintaining airspeed. Flight controls and engines appeared fine. Ball was a little out of center but that was it. Didn't have to turn to put JBAD on the nose. It was straight ahead.
Nav system told me it was 260 NM away. My body told me it was pretty damn cold up there. The KC10 remains were still trying to get at my head so I started descending and decelerating (opposing states so I'm not sure I did either one that efficiently). Leveled off at twelve thousand. I stopped getting beat up, the fitting just hung in the slipstream by my canopy bow, at 230 knots. So there I was...Eight thousand feet above Afghanistan at 230 knots. "You know, If a guy really wanted to get shot by a MANPAD he'd fly a profile alot like what I'm doing right now." Oh well. It's at times like this when you just make a decision and go with it. If you pull it off then it was, "...outstanding airmanship, and in keeping with the highest tradition of the United States Naval Service..." If you don't pull it off, if you get bagged, well...maybe they'll name a safety award or the new Base Gym after you.
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By Navy Captain - Jetsetters Magazine Correspondent - at www.jetsettersmagazine.com
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