More Than Lucky
By Mark Farenbaugh
Major George Smith was sleeping soundly when the phone rang. As the Operations officer of the only Air Defense Squadron located on Oahu, Hawaii, it was still a rare moment when he would be awakened in the middle of the night.
“Sir, sorry to wake you, but we have a problem,” said Captain Mason King, Flight Commander on duty at the 24-hour Operations Center.
“No problem,” Smith’s untuned voice answered, “What’s up?”
Time: 01:00 Saturday morning.
Date: May 1993
“Sir, there’s an emergency aircraft en route to Hawaii declaring that he has insufficient fuel to make it to the airport,” continued Mason, “He is reporting a distance of 600 miles from the islands,” and while Major Smith’s mind started absorbing the scenario, King finished reporting,
“ It’s a twin engine ferry flight. Reported speed of 210 knots. They calculate that they won’t make it to Waikiki, but don’t know exactly when they will run out of fuel. There are three souls onboard. Altitude is eleven thousand feet, due to lack of cabin pressure. They are trying to save fuel by shutting down systems.”
“When do you estimate they will be within radar range?” George asked, knowing that the long-range radar providing the air picture would only see out 250 miles and that the aircraft was reporting its position using a High Frequency (HF) radio due to the distance and that it would be pure luck that the signal was clear and readable.
George’s mind started calculating how long before the radar would pick up the aircraft’s transponder. A couple of hours he thought.
“We should be able to detect the aircraft in about 2 hours,” confirmed Captain King.
“Okay, please brief the fighter squadron that we would like to use unarmed aircraft, not the alert birds.”
The fighter squadron located on the military side of Honolulu International has an operational commitment to have two, F-15s armed with air-to-air missiles ready to launch in order to destroy incoming enemy aircraft. While on alert status, they can be airborne within 5 minutes. Once they are called into action, the control tower directs all airborne civilian aircraft into holding patterns while ground control stops all taxiing aircraft as the F-15’s are given priority to taxi onto the runway and take off in the direction needed. Usually the skies are so crowded with tourist traffic, the fighters simply go vertical as soon as they lift off.
“Yes, sir.”
“Call the C-130 guys on Kawai to see if their airplane is ready with water survival gear. I think they have inflatable watercraft and line buoys they can drop.”
“Yes, sir, already have.”
“Good. Have you also called the Coast Guard?” Their docks were at least 5 hours from any possible crash site.
“Yes, sir. They will depart before daylight depending on what happens.”
“Okay, good. Please call me when you’re talking to the emergency aircraft. I want you and me to agree on when to send the fighters.”
“Sir,” King was following a checklist and needed to ask, “do you want me to wake up the commander?”
“No, not until we know more. We can handle this part. I’ll give him a full status report, once we have all aircraft in the air.” George had the rescue script in his head and didn’t want to double the phone calls in the middle of a rescue operation.
George hung up and easily fell back to sleep. After a couple of hours, the phone rang again, and he started the rescue operation.
Time: 03:15
“Sir, we are talking to the emergency aircraft. Three souls onboard. The calculate they will run out of fuel at about 60 miles from the shore.”
“How’s the weather and sea state?” asked Major Smith.
“Clear skies. Winds calm. Sea state not even level 1,” responded Captain King, “We are lucky.”
“So is the crew,” the Major returned.
“Are the Guard F-15s ready to fly?”
“Yes, sir. The F-15 pilots have filed ‘open’ flight plans and can launch when we need them.”
“C-130?”
“They are nearly ready. Their flight plan is filed, the aircraft is fueled, and the crew is going through their start-engine checklist. They are standing by our order and can launch within the next fifteen minutes.”
“That’s good.” George looked at his watch and thought, “Many resources would be sent out into the dark skies to try to save the few who made mistakes.”
Time: 03:40.
“Mason, where is the plane now?”
“About two hundred miles out.”
“I think we should give the F-15’s a long intercept to maximize their situation awareness. It’s pitch black out there. You agree?”
“Yes sir.”
George gave his next operational order. “Please launch the F-15’s with an expedited climb to Angels-15 (15,000 feet) and call when they have contact with the 7700.”
The international rules of flight reserve the transponder frequency of 7700 to indicate an emergency. It’s not used lightly.
“When the F-15’s are level, make sure they know to do a ‘stern’ intercept.” A ‘stern’ intercept meant they would approach at an angle that would have a hard and final turn to arrive right behind the distressed aircraft. It would keep the pilot of the emergency aircraft from getting distracted.
“Launch the C-130 as well, at a good vector for intercept. Keep it at 4 thousand feet.” He continued, “Mason, sorry for slightly micromanaging this, but I don’t want you to get into trouble like I did the last time we scrambled fighters.”
A few weeks earlier, Major Smith sent the alert birds out of Honolulu with their afterburners blasting in order to get to a China Air flight that had declared emergency. An engine was out and the plane was turning back to Honolulu at 36,000 feet. The roar of two F-15’s on afterburners caught the attention of both the press and the generals at Hickham Air Force Base. Everyone on the golf course saw the two F-15’s roaring upward as well.
The political and military opinions all rolled down hill to Major Smith’s commanding officer.
Smith figured that if it’s the same fuel and the same mechanic, there could be another engine out. A four-engine transport doesn’t fly well on two engines, especially when full of fuel and cargo. He wasn’t about to lose sleep over it.
But Major Smith’s boss was furious that Smith had expended the two, armed alert birds on a civilian airplane, leaving the islands defenseless from the enemy.
Captain King remembered the same scramble to intercept the emergency China Air flight and how much the unit commander was stressed over the alert bird use to escort it back to the island. He didn’t resist the Major’s effort to hold the operational responsibility.
Time: 04:00
The phone rang again.
“Sir, the emergency aircraft is descending out of ten, to below five thousand feet. They think they will run out of fuel in the next thirty minutes.” Captain King kept his calm, then continued, “We are going to lose comm with the fighters once they intercept the aircraft and descend with them to a low altitude.”
“Why don’t you split the flight?” Major Smith prompted, “And keep one of them high while the other goes low.”
“That’s the problem,” King answered, “The flight lead won’t split the flight. He says his wingman, LK04, is too inexperienced to do this kind of low altitude intercept in a pitch black night and has to stay with him.”
“No way,” responded Smith, “They sent a beginner? Okay, tell them to maintain radar contact with the emergency aircraft. Launch the alert birds, heading 050 degrees, 7,000 feet, Buster departure (full afterburner).”
“Sir?”
“Do it.” Said Major Smith, “And tell me when they have radar contact with the emergency aircraft and the other F-15’s. I’ll hold.”
Time: 04:15
“Okay, sir,” reported King, “the alert birds are airborne, LK01 and LK02 are twenty miles out from Honolulu and sixty miles from the emergency aircraft. They are approaching at Mach 1 and will use a shooter-eyeball technique to get eyes on the emergency aircraft lights as soon as possible.”
“Good. When the alert birds take control of the intercept, send LK03 and 04 to seven thousand feet and on a heading to intercept the C-130. Use them to escort the C-130 to the emergency aircraft.”
“I’m a little late, but will take a moment to brief the commander,” grimaced Major Smith.
Time: 04:30
Major Smith knew the commander was going out on Friday nights with his other commander buddies to their favorite watering hole and would most probably retire to his quarters after a few shots of expensive single malt scotch. George figured that if he was lucky, the colonel would be in a deep sleep and not even answer his phone.
Major Smith was lucky that morning.
Time: 05:00
The phone rang again.
“Sir, we split the alert birds to maintain comms. LK02 is up at 15,000 and LK01 is trying to stay within the area of the emergency aircraft. The C-130 was escorted to the emergency aircraft and is instructing the crew how to do an under-power, controlled crash in the water.”
“Where are the other birds?”
“At 10,000 feet circling the area.”
“What are the fighter aircraft fuel states?”
“Sir, LK01 and LK02, the alert birds, have the least amount of fuel by about 3,000 pounds due to maintaining a low altitude and the expedited afterburner take off.”
“Figher pilots love speed,” George thought, “and they stayed in afterburner past Mach one.”
“Okay, send the alert birds home. Have the others orbit above the C-130 and keep us aware of what’s happening. Once the emergency aircraft hits the water, the C-130 will drop a buoy line and eventually the raft. It has a beacon on it that you should be able to see on your radar scopes in the command center.”
Time: 05:20
The phone rings
“Sir, no shit, the three guys made a successful water ditch and made it into the raft. They are safe, without any injuries. In a couple of hours, the Coast Guard cutter will arrive to pick them up.”
“Great.”
“Sir, what did the commander say?”
“Not much,” smiled George.
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