Air Safety — Press-on-itis

One pleasant morning, instead of flying a gunnery exercise, I was detailed to fly up to our base at Tocumwal to attend to some routine matters and pick up a young wireless navigator (I say “young” because he was only 19 – and I had almost reached the ripe old age of 21!) who was to crew with one of the other Vengeance pilots in our flight. From East Sale to Tocumwal is a bit more than 160nm (295km), much of it across the rugged Southern Alps, with Mount Buller, rising to nearly 6000 feet, right on track. The weather was clear, the mountain scenery magnificent, the Vengeance’s big 14 cylinder Wright Cyclone radial performed faultlessly, and the one hour flight proved very pleasant indeed. At this stage I had logged about 500 hours in single engined aircraft, more than half of it in Vultee Vengeances, so I felt quite comfortable in this type of aeroplane. Having completed all my business at the Tocumwal base and shown the new navigator how to settle himself into the rear seat of the Vengeance, we took off at 1700 hours to fly back to East Sale. Although I didn’t yet know it, things were already starting to go wrong. Because the weather had been so good during the morning flight up, I had somewhat rashly decided that a route forecast would be unnecessary for the trip back. The day was still perfectly clear at Tocumwal and we fully expected to be downing an ale in the mess at East Sale by 1820 hours. Having climbed on track to the planned cruising altitude of 8000 feet, I adjusted revs, boost and mixture, and we settled down for a pleasant late afternoon view of the Victorian Alps. We were both wearing light gear and this altitude provided a welcome change from the dust and flies at Tocumwal. But by the time we had passed over Benalla on our south easterly heading, big cumulus clouds were looming up ahead over the mountains. I began climbing, intending to either fly “on top”, or through the “canyons” between the clouds. On reaching 14,000 feet over Mansfield however, it was obvious that this plan would not work. The cloud tops appeared to be well over 20,000 feet — and I could see no way between them! Turning back to Tocumwal would of course have been the prudent thing to do. But it would have been inconvenient — and I was determined to be at East Sale for dinner in the mess! The answer looked simple enough – I would just continue into cloud on instruments.

Actually it didn’t look all that daunting. My plan now was to continue on course, letting down to 10,000 feet, and maintain this altitude until five minutes past our ETA for East Sale on the coast. Then, if we were still in cloud, I would let down straight ahead over Bass Strait. After finally breaking out, it would then be a simple matter to turn around and fly north again to the coast, an area which I knew very well. Apart from the fact that we were both feeling very cold, conditions seemed normal enough at first. But a short time later we flew into severe turbulence and freezing temperatures. Because the Vengeance was a very stable and robust machine, with wings built to withstand 12g in the dive bombing role it was designed for, the turbulence itself was not particularly alarming. The aircraft type’s 14.6m (48ft) wingspan and seven tonne weight made it, at that time, the RAAF’s biggest single engine aeroplane, and it gave one great feeling of security, no matter how violent the turbulence was. In a masochistic sort of way I think I was even enjoying the experience! But all at once the situation changed. The airspeed and rate-of-climb needles flickered, then assumed meaningless positions — and I became decidedly uneasy. Then the altimeter began to unwind alarmingly rapidly, with the hiss of air around and over the cockpit canopy (familiar from dive bombing exercises) indicating very high speed. We were suddenly and obviously in deep trouble — probably in a spiral dive! Panic was beginning to overwhelm me when I stole a glance outside the cockpit – and the penny dropped. The wings were covered with clear ice, and the pitot head was encased in it too! Praying it was not too late, I frantically switched on the pitot heat. Exactly how long it took to take effect I cannot recall, but just as suddenly as they had become unserviceable, the instruments began to register again — that pitot heat worked mercifully fast. But the airspeed was reading over 400mph (350knots/650km/h) and the rate of descent was “off the clock”! “Get the wings level on the artificial horizon — then pull out of the dive!” This much was almost instinctive from my instrument training. But when I had achieved this, still in cloud of course, the altimeter was reading less than 7000 feet – and we had lost more than that amount of height while out of control! It was much too close for comfort — Mount Buller (5922 feet) was probably not all that far away. On course again at 8000 feet, but with the violent turbulence unabated, I did my best to regain some measure of composure. But when you are shivering with cold and have just given yourself a king sized fright, it’s not all that straightforward! However, ETA East Sale plus five minutes eventually arrived. We were still in cloud, so I began to let down, heading out over Bass Strait. The worst of the turbulence was over now and the temperature was also gradually becoming more tolerable. Not long to go now! My confidence was rebuilding. But in due course only 1000 feet was showing on the altimeter — and we were still in cloud! By this time I had been on instruments continuously for more than 30 minutes, and I was becoming quite anxious for some sight of the ocean. Finally, at 800 feet, we broke out in heavy rain, and with a great sense of relief I smartly turned back towards the north. When the coastline had not appeared ahead after a further 10 minutes, my confidence began to evaporate again. Was the compass unserviceable? Were we still heading out to sea — to an inevitable watery grave? I passed a note back to the young “nav” in the back seat, asking him what his compass read. He was already showing “signs of stress” as a result of this rather dramatic first ride in a Vengeance, and my query didn’t improve things for him. But he passed back a message indicating a heading similar to that on my compass. This was reassuring. But what had happened to Australia?

Five minutes later we emerged from the rain into a reasonably clear sky — and ahead in the distance lay what looked like Lakes Entrance. Making a positive identification soon afterwards, I turned west for RAAF East Sale. We landed there just before last light, having taken almost two hours for what should have been a 75 minute trip. As I parked the Vengeance on the tarmac and shut down, there was still some ice clinging to the aircraft. But the control tower was unmanned — and there was no one else to notice. Flying at East Sale had in fact ceased in mid afternoon — because of the wild weather of course! And because our departure signal from Tocumwal had inexplicably failed to get through, we were not even expected! I didn’t get to the mess for dinner after all that evening. I just sat in my room for a couple of hours, pondering on our safe deliverance from disaster — and the extent of my folly. Firstly, my failure to check the weather before departing; then, pressing on — only because it was more desirable to spend the night comfortably at East Sale in my own bed than to endure the minor hassles of bunking down somewhere else. And finally, forgetting to switch on the pitot heat when flying in icing conditions. But the major sin of course was pressing on. As it turned out, we had flown blind through a line of severe thunderstorms, with all their related hazards. Full marks to the Vultee Aircraft Corporation for building an aeroplane stout enough to survive the tremendous buffeting through several successive cumulo nimbus clouds! One small afterthought — despite my folly, I probably survived because of my regular voluntary sessions in the Link Trainer — keeping in practice for instrument flying certainly paid off in this instance. So if you want to be an “old” pilot, treat the weather with the respect it deserves. These days I still maintain my interest in aviation — but mainly through flying radio controlled models. There, if I make a mistake, I can always walk away from the prang!