Snow Cloud 3
Date:
Mon Jul 7 2003
Paul Rollins wrote:
Paul Rollins wrote:
I thought you might enjoy the attached short essay
I wrote as a twenty minute exercise in a writing class. The words and memories
just flowed out as I recalled the experience. It reflects my memory of flying
into the eye of a hurricane when I was a pilot with VW-4 from
1965-67.
All the best,
Paul Rollins
VW-4 , '65-'67
All the best,
Paul Rollins
VW-4 , '65-'67
Pilot in Command
or
I in the Eye
By
Paul Rollins
We are
still 100 miles out and already the giant, Super Constellation is starting to
roll and buffet as we fly towards the eye of the massive hurricane. For me, it’s
the worst part; I tend to get airsick when I’m not actually at the controls. But
not this time; I can’t. It might look bad. The crew might doubt my ability.
Their trust must be absolute…lives are on the line.
The
Radarman barks out…”40 miles to the eye”. Tensions mount; preparations are made.
The intercom cracks as the Plane Commander reads the checklist. The 30-man crew
buckles in; gear is stowed, nervous chatter slows. I take over the left cockpit
seat now; pull on my leather gloves and secure the shoulder harness extra tight.
The adrenalin pounds through my body….my first time as Pilot-In-Command on a
low-level hurricane penetration flight.
“Cockpit
from Radar…10 miles to the eye.” I check my shoulder harness and grip the yoke
with two hands as the aircraft pounds through the turbulence. The aircraft
buffets more and more with each moment as we continue to parallel the counter
clockwise flow of the hurricane winds.
“Cockpit, 5
miles to the eye; turn left to 270 degrees; I’m losing radar signal”. “Roger” I
reply, “Control is now with the rear observer.” I bank the giant bird to heading
270….directly towards the eye of the storm. Altitude instruments are worthless
in these conditions….taped over to avoid confusion. “Roger, I have the con,”
responds the senior enlisted man seated at the bubble window at the rear of the
aircraft. “Descend a 100 feet; I’ve lost contact with the water”.
I drop the
nose slightly and descend to about 500 feet. I can see the raging waves. I call
for more power and the Flight Engineer responds. The four propeller engines roar
as we approach maximum power. Again from the rear observer, “I’ve lost contact
with the water”… comes over my headset. I drop to 400 feet. I swear I could
reach out and touch the waves. “Come left 5 degrees; wind 150 knots; 2 miles to
the eye” barks the excited observer.
Need more
power; we are losing airspeed. The engines roar as I call out… “max power.” I am
wet with sweat. All my strength now just to control the aircraft. The copilot
adds his strength to the yoke. The windshield fogs over with the heat of our
efforts. “1 mile to the eye; left 2 degrees; wind 165 knots”. 300 Feet off the
water now…. waves are white froth.
One-quarter
mile to the eye. One more surge; one more effort to wrench the yoke from my
white grip and the storm submits. We roar through the storm wall like an
escaping beast. Suddenly…. perfect calm. We’ve broken through to the eye. We are
in the eye of the storm…and we are safe…this time, at least. I reduce power and
sink heavy into my seat. I’ve done it; I’ve done it. I am a hurricane virgin no
more. I am a Navy Hurricane Hunter Pilot.
The air is
perfectly smooth and I can see for miles. I smile with satisfaction. It was a
piece of cake. Life is good.
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