Issue 99: August 1994

We had the RAAF 707 performing engine out manoeuvres in October 1991 at an altitude about half of what it more appropriately should have been. Last year we lost a perfectly serviceable Canadair RJ whilst performing aft loaded low speed manoeuvres at low altitude where the crew were unable to regain control soon enough before running out of airspace and most recently the saddest of them all, the tragic loss of an A330 with seven people on board at Toulouse.

The official Airbus press statement says it all. You read it and as a pilot, or even a knowledgeable passenger, see what you think: “Immediately after takeoff, the following planned manoeuvres were performed by the crew in six seconds: capture of an exceptionally high angle of climb of 28° (though this actually went to 33°, Ed) in order to deliberately achieve minimum speed (by comparison a commercial airliner is normally limited to an angle of 18°); engagement of the autopilot; simulation of an engine failure (in this case the left engine) by bringing it to idle, and cutting off the related hydraulic circuit. The combination of the simulated engine failure and the high aircraft attitude induced a loss of lateral control, which occurred at an altitude of 1300ft. This altitude was insufficient to enable the crew, who had regained control of the aircraft, to avoid impact with the ground. At this stage of our analysis there is no evidence of a need to proceed with a modification of the autopilot before this test has been reproduced in less marginal conditions.”

Less marginal conditions. This is a very big aeroplane, the largest widebody twinjet in commercial service today. Why fly a minimum airspeed high alpha (angle of attack) manoeuvre at extreme low altitude within the confines of what is a busy urban airport. Toulouse is hardly Arizona, it is a large city by any standard and it is extremely fortuitous that the aircraft in fact impacted within the confines of the airfield. But why, oh why, fly these types of missions at zilch altitude time and again. Seven men, seven families and seven parents have the right to ask that simple, sane and logical question as they mourn the loss of their loved ones. We grieve for them, and the Canadair and the RAAF crews too, we do every time we read yet another crash report that should most probably have never happened in the first place. Why, oh why, oh why?

When I did stall training in a humble 152 it was quite rightly called ‘upper airwork’. Though this did seem rather comical at the time, in view of the performance of the little Cessna, it did reinforce upon me the simple fact of life that if anything was going to kill you in the air it would most likely be impact with the ground. That quite rightly seemed logical enough and so I, and my fellow trainees, would always ensure that even when practising something as humble as a stall we did it at least at 4000ft AGL. So when I read of incredibly experienced pilots performing what are extremely marginal manoeuvres (where the aircraft is literally hanging in the sky with little reserves available, right in the corner of the envelope) at what to me are extremely low altitudes, where there is absolutely no way out if something goes wrong, then I sit back and wonder why.

I appreciate that some of these manoeuvres have to be at fairly low altitudes in order to simulate the required atmospheric conditions likely to prevail at the time when something like this might occur in operational service. If so, then why not fly them at a safe altitude in a climate where the air temperature/density etc are similar at a higher altitude as they would be at Toulouse in mid summer at zilch feet? Surely this is not impossible to do. Sadly it is all history now and another seven talented souls join those thousands who have paid the ultimate price before them. Our sympathies and condolences go out to their families and friends. Let’s hope that their passing will have not been in vain and that it will bring a change of thinking to only those who can initiate change – the pilots themselves.

Hello, Is Anybody There?

Haven’t heard much about Hawker de Havilland in this, or any other aviation magazine lately have you? Have we black banned them? Definitely not. We are simply now unable to talk with anybody at the company without it seems the written permission of either the Pope or the President of the United States!

Am I being trite? Well maybe, but the fact remains that since the company was taken over by the BTR Nylex group two years ago there has been a blanket warning to all personnel that they are strictly banned from speaking to the media without prior consent. Even then, whatever transpires as news has to be vetted with said management. An impossible task that means that whenever good intentioned HdH employees do speak with us discreetly we cannot even acknowledge the conversation or quote them. A ridiculous situation considering that (a) HdH is Australia’s largest aerospace company and (b) that they have much good work in progress that is desperately crying out for some positive media exposure.

For instance, HdH’s Parafield-based Australian Aviation College goes from strength to strength, the McDonnell Douglas Helicopters MDX Explorer, with heavy design and structure input from HdH is soon to enter service, and its ongoing airframe, systems and engine support work Australia wide is doing well with both the ADF and civil operators yet we cannot report on any of this except via ferreting through secondary sources. There must be other achievements but we wouldn’t know any more would we?

Can somebody in senior management perhaps realise that the media are not all villains, that there are professional industry journals out there amongst the daily headline getters and that perhaps it’s time to begin to reap the rewards of a professional and well thought out public awareness campaign. We may live in hope as eternal optimists, but from experience we won’t hold our breath.