EMERGENCY LANDING
Pictures and report by Tom Carlson of Class 57-U <silverfox_44@yahoo.com>
 -- BEFORE -- |
 -- AFTER -- |
(Before)
Someone
snapped
my picture with T-28 565, pulling chocks for someone
else.
(After) Ironically, it's the
same aircraft that I bellied in, probably a few days later.
Although 565 was
returned to the line after repairs were made, I don't think it was
before we
graduated, so I'm quite sure that this is really a "before and
after". Thought you might find the pictures and report
interesting.
* * * * * * * *
We didn’t normally fly on Saturday, but this was
one of those rare times when we did. (I guess we were a little behind).
After
an early morning dual ride, Max, the dispatcher assigned me 565 for a
solo
trip. It was January 19th, four days after my 21st birthday.
All
went well until just about the first clearing turn which coincided with
the
first power reduction. As I brought the prop control back to climb
power, the
reduction gear in the nose case of the engine failed and broke the
casting. All the oil exited the sump and came out through the
cowl flaps
and other openings, flaming as it passed the exhaust stacks. It
scared
the daylights out of me. Any attempt to sound “cool” on the radio
failed
miserably. I don’t know which was the higher pitch, my voice or
the sound
of the engine at take-off power, running away from the now disconnected
prop. I
decided that I had to get busy if I wanted to make it to Momma K's for
the
evening meal. The emergency canopy opening feature failed.
Thank
God for that! I was really too low for a successful
bail-out. When
the canopy didn't open I started looking for options. Off my left
side I
could see the runway that I had just departed. Out the front I
couldn't
see much of anything due to the coating of oil on the windscreen.
I
thought I could at least make it back to the infield where I knew there
were no
pine trees. I set up the 105 knot glide and hoped for the
best. I
didn't attempt to lower the gear since I had no hydraulics and I needed
all the
distance I could get, preferably from a clean airplane.
I was able to make it back to the runway and
touched down just about the 800 foot mark. As the fuselage
settled onto
the runway, the prop hit the concrete and was flung up into the air,
coming
down and making a hole in the cowling in front of the windshield and
chopped a
hole in the right wing as it departed. At the same time, the
canopy
slammed to the emergency open position, since the handle had been
actuated to
that position. I guess it was a little out of adjustment.
Again, I
am thankful for that since an open canopy would have altered the
glide,
and perhaps allowed flames to enter the cockpit.
I jumped out of the cockpit with my seat pack
still strapped on and made tracks. My classmates who witnessed it
were
still laughing forty years later as they described my
sprint. Johnny
Edmundson drew a cartoon of Pogo, the possum, wearing a seat pack,
running like
crazy, shouting "Mr. Martin! Mr. Martin!. That cartoon is
in
the 57-U class book.
At the evening meal at Momma K's, I had to stand
up in a chair with a napkin on my head, flapping my arms, admitting to
a “hard
landing”’ and proclaiming that I was a "Proud member of class 57-U"
565 was returned to service after some yeoman
work by the maintenance people. My logbook shows that I flew four days
later,
after the usual trip to medical and the debriefings that normally
follow such
an incident. In that logbook, the January 19th entries
show
1:23 dual and :03 solo.
That's about all there is to it. I'm still
attributing the success of the whole thing to some extraordinary luck,
some
excellent instructors and perhaps some intervention from
above. With
a total of about 80 hours at the time, skill and experience were
definitely low
in the order of attributes. A half century and some 20,000 flying
hours
later, it remains one of the memorable moments of a career aloft.