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T-Tail-Tall-Tail:
Hot Stuff, Hot Landing,
Hot Brakes, Hot Collar
Spring 1967
Dick Reichelt
Some of you remember, after flying around with her
strapped to your butt,
you and the C-141 were one. You and it could do
anything asked of you. My
fantasy mind worked overtime once in a while. Your
landings are great, you
consider passenger comfort, you take care of your
crew, and you sit there
staring out at the world.
Just suppose you were called on to be the first one
to land the 141 on ...
an aircraft carrier -- the USS Forrestal. Well, sure we
can do it! Imagine talking
to the skipper.
"Air force to skipper - what are your winds down there?"
"Forrestal To AF -- 25 kts."
"AF to skipper, can you give us 35kt hull speed?"
"Forrestal To AF -- We'll try sir."
"OK nav, help me out on this, We'll be coming in at
stall + ten for an 80kt
touchdown minus the 25 kits of wind, minus 35kts
ship speed into the wind. Our
touchdown will be at 20kts deck speed. Full flaps,
auto spoilers, full reverse
open, we'll tell 'em to hang onto their hats! Plop.
Success! Tie us down."
Wakeup, with the sun in your eyes ... you dozed off.
Well in the beginning it wasn't like that. After the
flight check and route
checks, my east coast squadron sent you out with
another new Aircraft
commander, two greenies on their first solo trip
I drew a fellow that trained at the same time as I
did and was ready also, Very
personable and with a boyish grin I met Capt. K. and
off we went to Europe. I
think it was Lajes, Frankfort, Athens. Outbound,
swapping legs as we went.
Set to leave Athens K's leg, our request for 120,000
lbs was denied. 'Can't
have it you guys, you're taking 8 pallets out of
here and picking up cargo from
Iraklion, figure out your landing weight limit and
that's all the fuel you get.
Uhg! We studied that somewhere. Back into the book,
we were gonna be heavy no
matter how little fuel we put on. We figured a fuel
load, filed for the very
short flight to the island.
Off we went, the intrepid K at the controls. Short
flight, blue skies, hot day,
and down we come, 8000 foot runway dead ahead. Good
approach early on,. Short
final-not good, we are going too fast and too high.
There are some temple ruins, columns and statues
near the end of the runway
sitting on a cliff rising 50-60 ft. out of the
swirling, splashing surf. That
was too much for K because he slowed the descent and
ballooned high above the
end of the runway and proceeded to fly down (read:
over) the strip at 50 feet.
"one thousand, two thousand", I'm co-pilot counting
the freakin' markers going
by. "K! Land this mother! Three thousand, 4
thousand, 4 ½, K!"
Boomp, we're down, spoilers, reverse, brakes,
BRAKES! Four feet STANDING on 4
brake pedals. I'm certain the engineer and navs were
dragging something of
their own too!
The great 141 STOPS! Engines still in reverse open
are snorting, popping, and
belching. blowing sand ,straw ,and corruption across
the windows. OUT of
reverse, lookout front. Oh my God, we have stopped a
mere 10 feet from the 60
foot drop to the sea. Thank you Jesus!
Hard left turn and taxi in. Then I have my first
introduction to the two footed
rudder pedal mambo. My footwork would have made Fred
Astare delighted. The
cockpit is quiet. We deplane. We're not done. Back
to the book, to figure out
whether the thermal plugs in the wheels are gonna
blow. The book says stay
away, sit on your hands for two hours, and did we
say stay away?
Three hours later, my turn and off we go into the
wild blue yonder, same
wheels, same tires, Thanks again StarLifter. You did
OK.
Heading home.
Sadly, whether this incident had any bearing on it
or not, K., poor guy, got
passed over for promotion (2nd time) and
finished his 20 years at a
reduced rank. I wished him well.
09/01/2004
Richard (Dick) Reichelt richreichelt@msn.com