Crusader..........Cold Cat Shot



Got this from P.D.Harman a squadron mate vintage 55-56. 
 
  Hoppy  . Seeing the cold cat story reminds me of this one.  I don't know if I
  shared it with you or not.  Capt. Hank Smith, a friend of mine who lives 
  in Monterey, was the first F8 driver to survive a cold cat.  Here is his
  story, which is a lot like the one you just sent.  Enjoy.  Harvey
 
  Subject: F8 Cold Cat Story
 
  Hiya Tom,
  Here is the "sea story" you all asked me to tell last night at our reunion--
  hope you enjoy it--- it is a nice story to be able to tell in the "first
  person".
 
  Here is the story of my "F8 Cold Cat" story.  I have used this accident in
  many ways to different audiences to underline the importance of knowing the
  emergency procedures for which there is not time to refer to your NATOPS or
  procedural manuals.  It was very useful when I taught Human Factors topics
  in the School of Aviation Safety at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey.
  Especially so because while I frequently went over my emergency ditching
  procedures and demonstrated that I knew them cold, I tried to abbreviate
  them as much as possible and  left out the last part which was to inflate my Mae
  West which was a major mistake ( what Mark 3 C?).   In conversations I had
  with my roomie ( Pat Crahan) after CAP ( Combat Air Patrol) missions he
  would mention how boring these flights were because all we did was fly in a race
  track pattern about 200 miles from the carrier.  I thought they were exciting
  because the piloting requirements were so little I could practice my
  emergency procedures and these got me all juiced up.  He said something to
  the effect that I must be some kind of masochist.
  While I was told at the time that I was the first guy to get out alive from
  an F8 cold cat shot and I have never had this part of the accident
  challenged, I hope someone will speak up if this is not true.  The date was
  28 July, 1959 aboard USS Midway, off the coast of California during a missile
  shoot exercise.
  During our brief in the ready room I was assigned an F8 with a Bureau Number
  of 145390 ( I don't remember the side number).   Apparently I arrived five
  minutes early to man my airplane because the squadron mate who I was to
  replace on the "ready" ( Harry Sarajian) was pissed.   All of us were trying
  to get as much flight time as possible and five minutes could be crucial when
  a launch signal was given.  I had to climb up on the side of the ship and bang on 
  the canopy to get Harry to get out.
  It was shortly after getting all strapped in that we did in fact receive the
  order to launch the F8's.   After getting all hooked up to the Sponson
  Catapult ( the single cat on the angle deck) I gave the cat officer the
  customary salute to indicate that I was ready to go.  He dropped his hand
  and away I went.  However, about halfway down the track, I heard a loud
  explosion under the nose gear, similar to a 20 MM canon going off.   
  Instantly my head came forward and my body slammed into the shoulder straps from 
  the change in acceleration.  My speed was about 110 knots and I needed about 155 knots
  to fly.   I immediately pulled back the power, got on the brakes and tried to
  nose gear steer it up the axial deck, ( thinking I could get it stopped
  before going over the side).  However, when the catapult shuttle went out
  from underneath the F8 it broke my hydraulic lines and thus made my nose gear
  steering inoperable.  In addition it was clear to me that my braking was
   ineffective on the steel deck ( plat photos show smoke coming from my tires).
  Therefore I jammed the throttle back on planning to get burner and become
  airborne with what deck I had left ( hope springs eternal doesn't it !!!!.)
  As I glanced at the engine RPM gauge, it became apparent that since it was
  just spinning past 70 percent and I needed 87 1/2 percent before the burner
  would light, I was going to get wet!!!!  After I had completed going over my
  emergency ditching procedures I still had about 25 feet of deck left before
  I would reach the edge.  At that point I remember relaxing somewhat because
  there was nothing more I could do "until the bubbles stopped".   ( Our 
water ditching training was adamant about waiting until the plane stopped before
  trying to unbuckle and get out of the seat).  As I left the edge of the deck
  I had enough elevator control to keep the nose about 30 degrees nose down.
  I didn't want to go straight in because the plane would go too deep but I also
  didn't want to hit flat because I was afraid it might break my back (163
  foot drop?).  I remember the ride from the edge of the deck to the water as
  being very pleasant and quiet as I watched guys along the cat walk looking
  at me as I passed them and the gun turrets on the side of the ship.  When I hit
  the water all hell broke loose!!!  The airplane literally exploded.  The
  wings came off, the engine blew turbine blades up onto the flight deck and
  the front of the canopy broke.  All I remember seeing at that point was the
  pure white water coming into the cockpit so forcefully that it pulled my
  oxygen mask to oneside as it forced water down my throat even though my mask
  was securely fastened to my helmet with hardeman fittings.  With both hands
  I reached up and pulled the mask back into place so it would act as a 
barrier to the tremendous water pressure.  The water pressure was so great it 
was like a firehose being directed right into my face and the cockpit was filled
  immediately with water.  During this time it also seemed like the airplane
  was being rolled around.  I waited for what seemed like a long time for the
  bubbles to stop.  Then it started to get dark and I was afraid I wouldn't be
  able to make it to the surface before I ran out of air, so I pulled the
  ejection seat face curtain 3 times.  Nothing.  I then realized I was going
  to have to get out of the airplane manually so I pulled the "T" handle near the
  sunscreen which  sheared the rear canopy hinges and blew the canopy up about
  6 inches from a  2600 psi bottle of nitrogen.  I  pulled my umbilical cords
  (oxygen, g-suit, and radio chords) with my left hand, squeezed my ditching
  handle with my right hand, and chinned myself with both hands on the canopy
  bow to free myself from the airplane.  I breaststroke my way up to the
  surface of the water and noticed that the carrier was  now about a 1 1/2
  miles away from me.  At this point I was gasping for air and because I had
  so much weight mass (parachute, seat pack with raft and other supplies, boots,
  torso harness, g-suite, helmet, oxygen regulator, mask, 38 pistol in holster,
  belt of 38 ammunition, flight suit, survival vest with 10 pounds of
  equipment, and my uninflated Mae West.  Every wave that came by engulfed me
  because my mass was so great that I couldn't ride up with it.  It is
  important to note that I never remembered to inflate my Mae West.
  Everytime I went over my emergency ditching procedure I left out this part because I
  thought that any dip shit who was in the water would naturally think to
  inflate his Mae West !!!  But I was in what is sometimes referred as
  cognitive overload.   It was all I could do to keep my head above water
  after each wave went by !!!!   Fortunately it wasn't necessary to attract the helo
  and in a short time they appeared over head.  They lowered the horse collar
  down slowly and I had to hold my head under water to maintain a position
  correct for hoisting.   Man was that ever a chore !!!  Gasping for air
  whenever I could and then finally holding my head underwater while they took
  the slack out of the cable and hoisted me up.  When I finally got inside the
  door of the helo, the crewman couldn't believe all the gear I had on me and
  kept saying all the way back to the carrier "Jesus Christ you're a strong
  swimmer-- Jesus Christ you're a strong swimmer" !!!!!!   finally,
  I said You'd swim too !!!
  After the traditional shot of brandy and return to the ready room still
  soaking wet I went over to Harry Sarajian and said " Harry, I'll never take
  your airplane again!!"   Larry Renner, our schedules officer said I told him
  I heard the screws of the ship go by as I sank with the airplane.  (some
  studies have shown that aircraft sink at about 7 knots)
  About 2 to 4 days after the cat shot the tips of my fingers turned black and
  blue.  Previous to this accident I had always thought I was somewhat of a
  wuss but the manner in which I reached for the various handles and ripping
  out my umbilical chords by their roots apparently suggests otherwise---
  especially when the chips are down.  You may not be familiar with the way in
  which the liquid oxygen hose is secured to the left console of the F8 but it
  takes two hands--- one to lift the cap, which also serves to keep the hose
  'connected to the console once the spring loaded cap is released, and one to
  push the end of the hose into the hole.  It also takes this same coordinated
  effort to release the hose.  However, in my situation I pulled the whole
  dammed thing out by its roots-- an unbelievable amount of strength----with
  only my LEFT HAND !!!!  Thinking back on this I can hardly believe that it
  could be done without first lifting the spring loaded cap---even if you used
  both hands much less just your left.  It is amazing what we can do when the
  adrenaline starts to flow
 
  Two days later they shot me off again and this time it worked as advertised.
  But just to emphasize what a tremendous effect this cold cat shot had on me,
  every time after that when I saluted the cat officer my whole body was in
  shaking convulsions all the way down to my feet on the rudder pedals !!!
  The only way I could calm myself down after that  was to tell myself that it
  was going to happen again on  this shot and get ready.  You did it before
  and your can do it again!!!  Part of the reason for  my concern was the fact
  that the problem was not fixed.  It was a manufacturing defect in the swegged claw
  of the catapult pennant.  After my accident they reduced the number of uses
  of the pennant from unlimited to 100.  About 2 months later another F8 on
  the Hancock had the same thing happen and they reduced the number of uses to 50.
  Then about a month after that another F8 on the Hancock had a cold cat
  caused by a bad pennant and they reduced it to 10 !!!! So it might be
  understandable
  why my body turned into a shaking blob on every cat shot for the rest of our
  cruise-  ( 8 1/2 months).
 
  As a funny footnote-- About the middle of our Far East Cruise, the catapults
  themselves went down and no one could fly from the ship.  Out X.O. who was a
  test pilot school grad and looking for ways to distinguish himself, took out
  his slide rule ( no calculators in those days) and said to the skipper during
  an All pilots Meeting (APM) , that it was possible to deck launch the F8
  without the catapults if we only had half a fuel load and  40 kts. of wind
  over the deck.  Needless to say I was shitting bricks because I was sure they
  would launch one of the most experienced water landing Junior Officers 
  (JO'S) first.  You can't begin to imagine my relief when our brash maintenance
  officer said in a loud voice," OK XO, here is the plan, we'll launch the
  Skipper first and when he goes into the water we'll launch you and when you
  go into the water, I'll be next in command and we'll shut this whole fuckin thing down".
 
  A few years later I ran into one our fantastic plane captains while attending
  grad school.  Naturally it was great to see him and as we recalled the cold
  cat He told me that as the ship passed where I splashed into the water he
  could see me in the cockpit struggling with all the stuff that I had to do
  to get out.  He said the water all around the F8 was red and he thought at the
  time that it was my blood.  ( it actually was the red hydraulic fluid from
  the breakup of the plane).  It was really moving to me as he recounted his
  memory of the accident because tears came to his eyes as he told me his
  story.  Our closeness in the squadron was one of the things that I will
  cherish all the rest of my life and his reaction to my accident was
  testimony to just one aspect of that.
  It is interesting that the fighter pilot spirit permeated the whole squadron
  and I have never been in any organization which worked harder or with as
  much dedication and attention to detail as that group.  What a privilege and
  honor to have served with such an incredible group.  Changed my whole life !!!!!
  
  Hank