A Single-Engine O-2
submitted by: Alva Leon Matheson
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Bob Reid (Nail 210) was working the not-so-high-tech starlight scope, trying to keep everything in sight as I jinked hard to stay out of the AAA, to get a mark down for the fighters, avoid the errant fast-mover and kill the trucks.
Some more Tac Air was checking in, and I was getting ready to give them a target briefing when I saw a drop in the fuel pressure for the rear engine. Thinking that the aux tank was about to run dry, I changed tanks and hit the boost pump switch and waited to feel the comforting kick in the butt as the engine coughed, caught and accelerated. Instead, I got the screaming whine of a runaway prop. I instinctively pulled the nose of the plane up to slow the prop before the engine came unglued. Bob pulled the ‘scope in, looked at me inquisitively and asked, “What’s going on? Let’s get those A-7’s on target. We have lots of “movers” down there.”
“Forget those movers. We’ve got serious problems right here.”
No sooner had those words left my mouth, than the rear engine quit. I switched tanks again and hit the starter. Nothing. A A A was going off all over the place now. The gunners had heard the sound of the airplane change and they knew they had a wounded duck. Now, the intensity of the AAA stepped up several notches. Airspeed was bleeding off rapidly and I lowered the nose of the plane, jettisoned the ordinance, went through the emergency procedures for the engine failure and called ABCCC to declare an emergency.
I turned toward NKP and asked ABCCC for the weather at Quang Tri, more for backup than with the intent of going there. I tried to get the plane to settle in to level flight at the dash-one’s recommended best single engine airspeed of 84 knots. More AAA flashed by!
The plane wouldn’t maintain altitude at that airspeed; instead it had a 500 foot per minute rate of descent. In fact, level flight wasn’t possible at any airspeed above a stall.
“Nail 68, we have the weather at QT”, ABCCC called.
My hands were full. I was trying to maneuver the aircraft without stalling, watch out for the AAA, and talk to people, all at the same time (I had relayed my predicament to an IP in another O-2 to get his advice). Bob was throwing out everything he could get his hands on, while trying to help me.
“Go, Moonbeam, (that was the call sign for the night Airborne Command and Control Center).
“Roger, QT is reporting six miles visibility in light fog.”
At the time I was on the 110 degree radial for 110 miles off of Channel 89 at NKP. That was going to be a long, slow flight home over some very high karst. QT was only 60 miles away and I “only” had to get over the mountains separating Laos and Vietnam. It would all be down hill after that. On top of that the Lam Son 719 operation (the South Vietnamese “invasion” of Laos) had just commenced and I had to go only 10 miles to be over friendlies if we had to bail out.
We were still losing altitude, about 700 feet per minute now. I asked the other O-2 for suggestions. Some one suggested that I throw out all extraneous material that was in the cockpit, which had already been done. Someone else suggested throwing out anything we could pull out of the radio rack, and someone else said throw out your right-seater. (Bob Reed, Nail 210, had over 250 jumps with the AFA’s jump team).
I looked at Bob and he said “Not only No, but Hell NO.”
I started making a turn back around to the east and Quang Tri. Bob, normally well composed, came unglued.
“What the Hell are you doing? Where are you going? Look at that AAA!!!!”
I told him that we could not maintain altitude, and that we only had to go a short distance to be over friendlies if we headed towards QT. If we kept going west towards NKP it was a LONG way to a bailout over friendlies! He didn’t like it, but he didn’t raise anymore of a fuss. I continued my turn back to the east and the waiting gunners!
Triple A here we come!
I can still see the gunners giving each other “high fives” when they heard us coming back. They were loaded and ready. Bright red and yellow flashes were all over the place. Several times 37 mm shells exploded close enough that we could see glowing shrapnel passing over the cockpit.
Slowly, the AAA receded. Now the problem was the mountains that we had to get over. Bob was hunkered down using the dim light that his Sanyo rechargeable flashlight put out to search for the minimum safe altitudes printed on the map. Bob kept reading off numbers that I had seen on the altimeter a while back, but there was no way we were going to get back up there. With a couple peaks showing elevations higher than our altitude, we had to detour farther, and farther south. Now I was watching the oil temperature on the front engine. It was edging higher in the yellow and I remember Bob asking, “Are those your knees or is that the engine knocking?”
We made it over the mountains, and a great sense of relief flooded both of us. I contacted Hue/Phu Bai approach and asked for vectors to the final approach at QT for a surveillance approach. We were given the requested vectors, and with a declared emergency all traffic was cleared out of our way. As we began a descent toward QT we were much less worried about the front engine, and the options we had if it seized due to overheating. All thoughts were now on the approach, landing and beer!
As we descended and got into the fog, it became obvious that the report of six miles in light fog had obviously changed. I asked Hue/ Phu Bai for the weather conditions at QT. The controller’s reply was less than reassuring.
“QT is now reporting three miles visibility, and it is deteriorating”.
The field was expected to go IFR shortly. We continued being vectored but noted that we now had less than three miles visibility, and actually it was worse than that in places. No problem, I thought; we’ll get the surveillance approach, and back it up with the TACAN approach. All that sense of relief disappeared when RAPCON called,
“Nail 68, be advised that Hue radar is down. Resume your own navigation”.
That sound you heard was me, swallowing hard. I headed for the TACAN and began the approach. The only back up now was the Non- Directional Beacon (NDB).
Looking straight down, Bob said he could see some lights from the city, but looking straight ahead, we couldn’t see much. I was descending slowly to the Minimum Decent Altitude (MDA) knowing that a go- around was going to be marginal, and that gaining much altitude was going to be difficult, if not impossible. Performance on just the front engine isn’t the O-2’s strong suit.
Nearing the end of our approach, I swapped the little bit of altitude that I had for some airspeed and hit the MDA. We talked briefly about whether we would go for the beach and ditch if we couldn’t maneuver back around for another approach.
Quang Tri was going below minimums, and I wasn’t sure that we had enough fuel to make DaNang, especially considering that its weather was also deteriorating. In the seconds we had left before attempting a missed approached, I thought briefly about the 110 miles I could have flown to a well-lighted, fog-free runway at NKP. Bob said in a voice much calmer than I thought he was, “I think I see the runway lights.”
That might have been true at NKP or some other place where they had good lighting, but I don’t think he saw those lights on QT’s runway. However, that was good enough for me. I said, “MDA be damned”, and started descending.
Bob reported the runway in sight, and I never thought shielded runway lights could look so good. We were badly (hardly) lined up, but there was no way I could circle to land. I banked hard, which also bled off the excess airspeed, and smacked the plane on the wet PSP runway.
All we had left to do was stop, but the PSP was slippery and wet. It was all in the braking action now. I thought that it would be an inglorious end to a great “Save” if we slid off of the end of the runway!!
We went sailing down the runway, stopping just short of the end of the runway, and turned off onto the taxiway. It was hard to see to taxi in the fog, but there was a follow-me vehicle waiting. Once again the flood of relief came over us as we were led to our parking spot.
We had just concluded the one thing that all pilots just out of pilot training feared the most: Making a night, single-engine, weather penetration into a strange field. However, the number of take-offs and the number of landings came out equal on that night, and you cannot beat that.
The fog persisted for a couple days, so it was a while before we were able to get back to NKP. Upon returning, it seemed like all Hell broke loose. I heard “well-dones”, and “Attaboys” from everyone! But then the second-guessing began. The biggest question was, “Why did you go to Quang Tri instead of coming back here!”
I was told to report to everyone from my flight leader to the wing commander.
It seems that someone at TUOC, looking at the map when I first declared the emergency, had noticed that the 110 degree radial from Channel 89 lies along a valley that leads all the way from Tchepone to NKP. Flying that radial, I could have descended to an altitude that would have allowed me to cruise to NKP without worrying about the high-rising karst along the way. (I understand that the valley was designated the emergency egress route from the Tchepone area after my emergency).
However, unless we had known about that valley BEFORE we lost our engine, and BEFORE we flew through all the A A A to head for Quang Tri there was no way that I would have turned back around to fly through that triple A again. One can only be lucky for so long.
I reported to the wing commander (don’t remember who it was at the time). After he listened to my description of the emergency, he said that, “Forever, the people sitting in the security of an office, without the pressure of the emergency, and with the benefit of hindsight will always make perfect decisions. There are always options, and some options may be better than others, but as long as everything turns out O.K., all the decisions that are made are the right ones.”
Left unsaid was the obvious thought, “Otherwise, they will hang your ass.”
Some time later, all of my decisions made that night were vindicated. I was presented with the PACAF Able Aeronaut Award (PACAF’s flight safety award) for making it back with the Oscar Deuce.
I considered it to be an award to be proud of! ...and, I was there to receive it!