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Cleared Hot"Page 268 We had a tendency to fly in left turns during the strike control portion of flight, because in the O-2A, the FAC sat on the left side of the cockpit. When there was someone in the right seat, it was even more likely we’d be in left turns because of vision restriction to the right. I out-briefed the fighters as I turned to the right away from the target. My CTIP, Major Blair, said, “Let’s go back and take another look.” As I turned back to the left we were hit. It felt like the plane hit a large air pocket, or a very concentrated puff of air that pushed up on the back end of the plane. There was not much sound with the hit. Kind of a “woomp.” The aircraft immediately went into a slow flat left spin. I switched to Guard frequency and called “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!” Then I went into that slow motion world often experienced in a survival situation – the Air Force later gave it a name – temporal distortion, or TD. I had been in TD once before while spinning out in my 1968 Mustang on a new, rain-slicked road, and three times since in other aircraft incidents. I looked over at Maj. Blair and saw that we both were desperately trying to recover the aircraft. It was not responding and the spinning was becoming faster and faster. We were pointing downward, straight at the ground. I looked forward and could see exactly where we would crash. We were still about 3,500 to 4,000 feet up, but going straight down fast. The emergency procedure called for at this point was to remove the right hand door of the aircraft and jump out. My part in that procedure, when there were two people on board, was to reach behind the right seat passenger and unlock the door with my right hand. The right seat passenger was briefed to pull a foot-long red lever by his right knee rearward about six inches to remove the door’s hinge pins. Then he was supposed to hit the door with his shoulder to send it flying. I unbuckled my seat belt, while George, that’s what I call him now, pulled on the lever and pushed the door out. I remember reaching to start to undo his seat belt, but his own hand beat me to it. I can remember the whining or screaming of the plane as it gained airspeed. I can remember George going out and hearing a “thunk” sound. I dove out and down to avoid the wing strut. I was outside the airplane and free-falling. I reached immediately for my ripcord and pulled. In my slow motion, temporally distorted mind, nothing was happening. I pulled some more, and then, using both hands, I pulled again. I remember the ripcord coming out about two feet. The Life Support parachute people said it couldn’t be done, but I definitely remember about two feet of cable in my hand. I felt the “whuump” of my chute opening. My TD ended with the opening of the chute. I looked up quickly to check the canopy, and I remember hearing the plane crash while I was looking up. I looked down and watched George’s chute fully open and then collapse just as fast as you’re reading this sentence. I watched him land 15 feet to the left of the crashed and burning O-2A. I then realized there were rifles shooting, and it was probably at me. I tried to swing in my chute because I still had about 1,000 feet to go. I swung for all I was worth. I don’t know if it really worked, but I wasn’t hit, so I guess it did. I later decided that George had briefly knocked himself out when his head hit the wing strut while diving out of the aircraft. He thought it hard to believe, but afterwards, when I told him about his chute opening and immediately closing from my vantage point, he had to concur. Peter Condonpetercondon@icunet.com.auBook Coordinator |