Near Misses

We were doing night field carrier landings at NAS Oceana, VA, where because of noise complaints from housing residents, the landing area had been offset far down the active runway leaving only 2,000 feet to its end. Nearly all landings were touch-and-go, so supposedly this was not a concern. Even full stop landings in the TBM could have been accomplished safely. After landing and then taking off, my engine quit at about 30 feet in the air with full flying speed. I landed in dead silence and attempted to stop in 500 feet of remaining runway. The left tire failed from braking, and after the plane went past the runway end into mud, drag of the left wheel started a ground loop. Dragging the left wingtip, the plane nosed over until each blade of the wind milling propeller struck mud.

Each F2H-2 familiarization flight required cards with various maneuvers, each card calling for a step up in altitude to 40,000 feet. After that there would be practice in shutting down one engine and then restarting it below the 20,000 foot limit. On about my seventh flight, I had leveled at 40,000. While I was reviewing my card, the aircraft drifted to 42,000. I instinctively gave a sudden push to the control stick as I would have done in the sluggish TBM. The result was immediate flame-out of both engines accompanied by total silence and a depressurized cockpit. After a nervous experience gliding to 15,000 feet, my first air starts ever were successful.

A problem arose when my F2H tail hook would not extend. I was given the choice of landing into the barriers and barricade, or diverting to Japan. I chose Japan, even though we were not close. The next decision was whether to invest half of my remaining fuel to climb to an economical cruising altitude, or stay low, keep more fuel, but burn it faster. I chose climb, a wise decision as I found Honshu overcast with me on top at40,000 feet. This being an unplanned flight, I followed the low frequency ADF toward MCAS Iwakuni. Fuel was 400 pounds and it appeared I was still several minutes out when the ADF needle began to swing. I concluded I was lost with no navigation radio. Suddenly a break in the overcast occurred and below was the airfield. I was in the huge cone of radio silence, having arrived early probably because of a tail wind. It was a 2.2 hour flight. A loose rivet had backed out under the hook.

The test flight of our first F9F-7 out of a grand inspection/repair scheme was assigned to me. I took the plane up to altitude, noted a slight low exhaust gas temperature and landed. I held the brakes and accelerated the engine to check the temperature. At 92% RPM, the engine vibrated violently. I shut it down, exited, and found holes in the fuselage where pieces of the fractured compressor impeller had penetrated. If I had needed a wave off, the engine would have exploded in mid-air as power was added at an altitude too low to eject.

There I was, upside down at 10,000 feet at the top of an unsuccessful loop in a FG-1D Corsair. A vicious stall put me into an inverted spin. Recalling the non-syllabus SNJ experience from my over eager C-stage primary instructor, I recognized the situation and started recovery. But the FG was not as tame as the SNJ, so I exited the inverted spin into a normal spin, and then had to recover from that. I survived another Corsair scare on a landing approach. When close to the runway, fortunately on the right, I eased back on the stick to clear workers. At the threshold the plane began to settle. As one might do in a Grumman, I popped on 30” of manifold pressure (of 54” available). The result was a sudden left 45 degree bank. Right aileron was ineffective. I righted the plane by chopping the power and kicking full right rudder, but the maneuver translated me to the left side of the runway. During the process, I was aimed directly at a P2V taxiing alongside the runway whose pilots were upset enough to call the tower in protest.

Being temporarily in a proficiency flying status, I found a crew for a SNB ski trip from Memphis to Denver for night and actual instrument training. We stopped at NAS Hutchinson, KS, and left the next morning with temperature 15 degrees F. We climbed at the usual 500 foot per minute rate into a low overcast intending to cruise above a forecast 6,000 foot top. By the time we were halfway up, we were accumulating clear ice at a phenomenal rate. The wing de-icing boots were ineffective and there was no protection on the tail. The aircraft slowed to 90 knots. I descended using climb power and declared an emergency. We were vectored to a safe landing while still holding climb power. Every surface was ice covered including five inch thick blocks on the nose and on the ADF fairing.

On a routine F3H day carrier landing, my hook engaged Number 3 wire on the FDR’s angled deck. The F4D right behind me caught Number 2 which broke. The Marine Major went off the angle too fast to stop and too slow to fly. I watched the water impact. The pilot did not survive. My hook had missed that wire by perhaps six inches, a near miss for certain.