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T-Tail-Tall-Tail:
Alaska Gas
Dick Reichelt
August, 1964. I'm back stateside from a rollicking
3-year tour in Wiesbaden,
Germany and going to Tinker AFB. With orders in
hand, the question was; "What's
a C-141?" I had been flying KC97 tankers for 5 years
and then a cargo 97 in
Europe for 3 years. C-141's here I come. I was a
15-year veteran with 8000
hours accumulated. Had always had a cockpit job, but
hadn't had to learn a new
aircraft in 8 years much less a 1st line AF Jet
beauty. Ground school started
in earnest but it would be 40-60 days before getting
into the seat and flying
this awesome airplane. Ground school was not my cup
of tea. I passed all the
tests but my hair was falling out from all the book
learning. I was impressed,
kindled, and invigorated. I took pictures and
wandered the flight line in my
spare time. .
One day I went to nearby Guthrie airport and met a
congenial farmer with a J-3
cub. I have no idea why I impressed him or why he
took a liking to me but he
offered the J-3 for my use. "Anytime it's here, take
'er up and enjoy
yourself." Wow! But as it turned out the J-3 was too
unreliable. It was always
quitting and required dead sticking. If I was
gliding in all the time, I might
as well go to the sailplane school I noticed at
Guthrie. The sailplane
nationals had been held there the year before. They
had nice equipment so I
went for the 10-hour training for the license. At
least I was in a cockpit
again. Off I went in a Schwietzer 2-23. I soloed to
a less expensive 1-26 fully
acrobatic single place. What a sport! I was a
natural at this powerless stuff.
Now I could wait for the flight portion of C-141
training.
Fast forward to 1968. With 1000 hours in the C-141 I
was now stationed at
McGuire AFB in NJ. One fine day I was flying a trip
to Elmendorf AFB Alaska. No
additional crew members (ACM's) were aboard, just
the standard basic crew. Six
of us in the same "boat". This, the first leg out,
we watched the sun go down
as we went over Duluth, then cut up into the wilds
of Canada.
The hours passed and I became alert for my very
existence! My being. The
landing! I loooooved making the landing. I got to do
all of them if the copilot
wasn't qualified. I wasn't stingy, mind you. If they
were qualified, we split
the legs. As a "landing" pilot, I considered snow
covered or wet runways to be
"good" because you could "grease" in a landing. The
C-141 didn't have any
landing quirks or stopping problems so my romance
with her continued. These
"roll-ons" were my nirvana.
We always started our descent over Gulcana, 150 mi
out of Elmendorf. My second
fantasy was believing I could "sneak" the airplane
down so that no one aboard
would even know we were descending for a landing
until the noisy flaps came
down. Outboards were slowly retarded, then the
inboards. Even though no one
EVER came to the cockpit after landing and said,
"Ha, you really sneaked us
down…." Where did I develop the rules for
that silly game?
Landing weather at Elmendorf was poor, 1/2 mile and
fog. Been there. Done that.
Down we came. We always filed Eilson as the
alternate as a matter of
expediency. Never had to use it. Never missed an
approach with the 141's super
flight director system.
Down we come. What a gorgeous clear night
descending. We are cutting into the
black starlit sky, colorful northern lights
shimmering and moving. You'd swear
you could hear them go "swish". Everything was
normal. We were in the clear
over what looked like a thick cottony pillow of low
altitude fog. Gear and
flaps down, we came flying down final. We could see
a glow but no rabbit, no
strobes - nothing. One half mile reported. Okay here
we go, poof into the
schmootz!
Copilot called out "100 above minimums!"
"MINIMUMS!" "What do you mean minimums? There is no
runway! Crew! Going
around". I poured the coals to the 141; positive
rate, gear up. The 141 gave me
what she had and we popped back up and out.
On downwind. Now the big question. Do we try that
again? It was answered by a
few things. First the radio said, visibility ZERO.
Field's closed. GO AWAY.
Next, the engineer said "AC/Engineer: We're down to
15,000 lbs fuel."
I said, "15,000 lbs! We can't make Eilson on that!"
The radio said "What are your intentions?" That
1,2,3 sequence saw my flying
career pass in front of my eyes. I had three fears:
jet plane high altitude
"upset"; being the first C-141 to have to jettison
cargo; and running out of
gas (O.O.G.).
Of course as a pilot, I don't like surprises. What
had happened to our fuel?
I'd made this trip before. Same fuel, similar load
and no problems.
But…I had never made an approach and missed
it. Reg. 55-1: fuel reserves
were predicated on coming to Anchorage at altitude
and staying at altitude and
departing for your alternate at altitude. We had
spent our fuel on the
drag-it-all-in approach.
We climbed up to 20,000 feet where fuel economy was
best.
"AC/Engineer: 10,000 lbs fuel." Sacre' bleu!
(Canadian North Woods talk for "Oh
Shit!"). We were advised that the closest runway was
at King Salmon, 300 miles
to the west, clear and 15.
"Navigator/AC, need an ETA to King Salmon."
"AC/Nav: 30 minutes".
"AC/Engineer: 8000 lbs".
"AC/Nav: the winds are on our nose. New ETA is 34
minutes".
The whole crew congregated in the cockpit. Parkas
were being donned. The
engineers were putting on extra socks. Everyone was
preparing for the worst.
I'm pulling the power back just enough to fly,
throwing "long-range" cruise
numbers and ETAs out the window.
"AC/Nav: 23 minutes to King Salmon".
About then Center says "Anchorage International. is
open, 1/2 mile". Decision
time! Suddenly, King Salmon beacon flashes and
flashes again. Hallelujah!
"No thanks, Center. We're going to King Salmon". I
had declared an emergency so
everyone was paying attention to us.
Now, not only did I have upset, jettison cargo, run
out of gas on my mind, but
added a new one. It became personal. Would I earn
the title of, "first pilot to
crash-land a 141 in the artic"?
"King Salmon tower please turn the runway lights to
bright." My memory now
clouds a bit remembering how far out I started down
from 20,000 feet. I do
remember I pulled the engines to idle and made like
an excellent glider pilot.
Thank you Lord for the nudge to get sailplane
experience. ETA and fuel were no
longer as important as was gliding to the runway,
and that's what we did. Short
final, flaps 1/4 Gear down. Flaps 1/2, and very
short final. Full flaps and
swish - smooth. Spoiler, reverse - taxing off.
"AC/Engineer:2800 lbs".
That was the second experience in my career that my
feet played the rudder
pedal "mambo". God was our ACM that night and the
Starlifter did its part.
Notes: If the weather at King Salmon had not been
clear, or an instrument approach
required, we would not have been able to land
safely. A major Air Carrier opted
for the approach into Anchorage that was offered to
us. They missed the
approach and went around, proceeding to their
alternate.
Passing over that route we flew on subsequent trips,
revealed fearsome, rocky
terrain below.
09/07/2004
Richard (Dick) Reichelt richreichelt@msn.com