Bold action in military flying
This page is about key learning experiences from military flying and what can go wrong. It's about how to act in times of unexpected circumstances, including facing a life-threatening situation, rising to the challenge to avoid maximum tragedy or finding a way to minimise it.
These stories also speak to typical challenges in larger organisations, within strategy, culture and leadership responsibility. How to best work as a team, understand hierarchy and roles, and employing power of action to reach far better solutions?
These stories also speak to typical challenges in larger organisations, within strategy, culture and leadership responsibility. How to best work as a team, understand hierarchy and roles, and employing power of action to reach far better solutions?
The Joy and Dangers of Flying
By Steinar S. Almelid – LtCol & Senior Advisor
Having flown 15 different aircraft, I've had the experience of manoeuvring away from imminent danger in both a Westland Lynx Mk86 helicopter and a Lockheed P-3C Orion. Those two incidents potentially saved eleven human beings and two airplanes, with a material value of 1 Billion Norwegian kroner (EUD/USD 100 million).
Two events regarding C-130J transport flying is covered as well, highlighting what the outcome is when serious accidents occur, and a culture not entirely oriented towards safety is allowed to develop.
Finally, the advent of the F-16 to Norway is briefly mentioned, with early losses of aircraft and pilots due to a then unknown flight medical challenge with pulling 9 G's while leaning back 30 degrees. Glad I did it after that knowledge was out.
These stories speak to responsibility, alertness and deep knowledge of aircraft strengths and limitations, including how operating limits in 'the book' were broken to save the day. That, rather than becoming history a bit early.
Two events regarding C-130J transport flying is covered as well, highlighting what the outcome is when serious accidents occur, and a culture not entirely oriented towards safety is allowed to develop.
Finally, the advent of the F-16 to Norway is briefly mentioned, with early losses of aircraft and pilots due to a then unknown flight medical challenge with pulling 9 G's while leaning back 30 degrees. Glad I did it after that knowledge was out.
These stories speak to responsibility, alertness and deep knowledge of aircraft strengths and limitations, including how operating limits in 'the book' were broken to save the day. That, rather than becoming history a bit early.
Aircraft Accident Definitions
For stories of incidents and accidents with military aircraft, some official definitions are useful.
|
The four levels of accident classifications:
– Major accident: Loss of multiple lives, entire aircraft, or both. – Fatal accident: Loss of one life. – Minor accident: Partial damage to aircraft. – Aircraft incident: Affected or could have affected the safety of operations. Link to full definitons >> |
Stories covered:
– 333 Squadron with P-3C Orion: An aircraft incident where crashing into the Senja mountain range became a real danger by navigation error. – 335 Squadron with C-130J Hercules: One major accident and one aircraft incident. – 337 Squadron with Lynx Mk 86: An aircraft incident where the aircraft could have crashed into the ocean, without swift action exceeding operating limits – in order to save the day. |
The Three Steps of any Accident
All kinds of incidents or accidents, wether flying or driving a car, has these three elements:
- The Prelude [opptakt]: Whatever leads to the challenging situation, be it equipment failure, other people's actions or bringing ourselves into a dangerous situation.
- The Event [hendingen]: The peak of the accident/incident. Would be the crash itself, or the decision to land at the nearest suitable airport with an engine failure e.g., or deciding to continue after successfully avoiding the challenge.
- The Aftermath [etterspillet]: All events, changes made and decisions made – after the event. For flying, this will then span from flying on and reporting afterwards, to a search and rescue mission for the wreckage or hopefully, an emergency landed aircraft.
333 Squadron, P-3C Orion
In 1992 there was an incident where a costly P-3C could have crashed into the Senja mountains with a crew of nine, northeast of home base Andøya. That would have been a major accident, if not someone decided to be professionally alert when someone else who should be, was not.
As we know, a true story can easily be transformed to something else. At times it even turns upside down, easier so when some have an agenda to hold back reality. Such it is with this story as it seems, well, let's go through it.
Our exercise flight in the night was navy-oriented, as a Norwegian submarine was somewhere in the Andøya fjord and for joint training it was our job to find this silent vessel. For genuine reasons we flew at a height where the Senja mountains would be higher. As we flew northeast to southwest and then turned around, it was important to turn in time, so as the pilot on the controls from the start, I asked for two fly-to points on the coast of Senja. That would be a safe distance from the mountains.
There was no radar screen in the cockpit, just an operational one where the Tactical Coordinator (a senior navigator as lead for all operators behind the cockpit) og the Navigator could add fly-to points or a line to fly when dropping sensor buoys. That divides flight safety between pilots and navigators. With navigation aids available, as here near our home air base, there was no reason for the shown fly-to points to "drift", as they easily could on operations far away from useful nav aids. On the other hand, it was expected way out in the Barents Sea with no navigation aids available.
Though drifting shouldn't happen that night in Andsfjorden, it happened anyway and our aircraft got in danger. After two hours our fly-to points had drifted enough to where they ended up on top of the Senja mountains, rather than at the coastline. Not good.
The captain had put his seat into a leaned back position, reading the latest weather received for current and planned landing time. Again on the controls, I was at this point ready to turn right as we approached the fly-to point presumably on the coast.
Suddenly, the weapons officer called: "Mountain ahead, 12 o'clock, turn left!" Looking out (we flew on instruments), I indeed saw the top of a mountain maybe 20 secs ahead – visible thanks to the moon being out. Up to the left were clouds, though, while up to the right was just darkness – indicating a clear sky. Already adding max power for a climb, with 4 x 4600 hp, I turned right for a double measure of safety. Continuing at altitude after, our mission was completed and we landed two hours later.
Did we know that drifting caused this incidence? Nope, not at all. It was never on the table at the time, I couldn't fathom that happening right at home. The truth didn't reveal itself until now 30 years later, where the real story came to my knowledge from the squadron.
What actually happened in the cabin was like Game of Thrones, light. Highly unusual an occurrence, allowing drifting to happen despite every navigation aid available to the navigators. The highly professional 333 Squadron, not so that night. Especially not in the debrief where reality was held back, something else projected. For long, a mystery.
To conclude, thank God for the weapons officer being alert to check his radar at the right time. Now, was there something else the pilots could have done better? Yes, the Tacan distance info could have been checked as well. That would have revealed that despite being "impossible", drifting did happen.
As we know, a true story can easily be transformed to something else. At times it even turns upside down, easier so when some have an agenda to hold back reality. Such it is with this story as it seems, well, let's go through it.
Our exercise flight in the night was navy-oriented, as a Norwegian submarine was somewhere in the Andøya fjord and for joint training it was our job to find this silent vessel. For genuine reasons we flew at a height where the Senja mountains would be higher. As we flew northeast to southwest and then turned around, it was important to turn in time, so as the pilot on the controls from the start, I asked for two fly-to points on the coast of Senja. That would be a safe distance from the mountains.
There was no radar screen in the cockpit, just an operational one where the Tactical Coordinator (a senior navigator as lead for all operators behind the cockpit) og the Navigator could add fly-to points or a line to fly when dropping sensor buoys. That divides flight safety between pilots and navigators. With navigation aids available, as here near our home air base, there was no reason for the shown fly-to points to "drift", as they easily could on operations far away from useful nav aids. On the other hand, it was expected way out in the Barents Sea with no navigation aids available.
Though drifting shouldn't happen that night in Andsfjorden, it happened anyway and our aircraft got in danger. After two hours our fly-to points had drifted enough to where they ended up on top of the Senja mountains, rather than at the coastline. Not good.
The captain had put his seat into a leaned back position, reading the latest weather received for current and planned landing time. Again on the controls, I was at this point ready to turn right as we approached the fly-to point presumably on the coast.
Suddenly, the weapons officer called: "Mountain ahead, 12 o'clock, turn left!" Looking out (we flew on instruments), I indeed saw the top of a mountain maybe 20 secs ahead – visible thanks to the moon being out. Up to the left were clouds, though, while up to the right was just darkness – indicating a clear sky. Already adding max power for a climb, with 4 x 4600 hp, I turned right for a double measure of safety. Continuing at altitude after, our mission was completed and we landed two hours later.
Did we know that drifting caused this incidence? Nope, not at all. It was never on the table at the time, I couldn't fathom that happening right at home. The truth didn't reveal itself until now 30 years later, where the real story came to my knowledge from the squadron.
What actually happened in the cabin was like Game of Thrones, light. Highly unusual an occurrence, allowing drifting to happen despite every navigation aid available to the navigators. The highly professional 333 Squadron, not so that night. Especially not in the debrief where reality was held back, something else projected. For long, a mystery.
To conclude, thank God for the weapons officer being alert to check his radar at the right time. Now, was there something else the pilots could have done better? Yes, the Tacan distance info could have been checked as well. That would have revealed that despite being "impossible", drifting did happen.
335 Squadron, C-130J Hercules
The RNoAF 335 Squadron received five new C-130J transport aircraft in 2010. In 2012 there was a major accident where five people and a costly airplane perished. In 2020, two of the same aircraft had an aircraft incident. Flying as close as 44m/144ft to the terrain is too close for comfort, and outside any regulation. While media said the aircraft was 10 seconds from ground impact, 1 or 2 secs is more realistic.
The dangers of military flying, or rather, of making the wrong decisions when things are critical.
With the 2012 major accident and the 2020 incident, there are indications that the same pattern caused both: It seems warnings by the team was overruled by the most senior pilot. He/she has the power to do so, but in those two instances, whatever the real reasons, the outcome was dangerously unfortunate. Could the five lives lost in 2012 have been saved with proper safety measures invigorated? Could the 2020 drama for two aircraft and crew have been totally avoided?
Yes, they were both avoidable claimed a senior pilot at 335 Squadron in 2017. He decided to blow the whistle on what he termed leadership failure at the squadron, in not stopping unacceptable risk-taking. Operating outside regulations was too common, he said, a part of the culture. The Chief of the Air Force decided to reject his key message. That denial seems unfortunate as we now hear the similarity voiced between the 2020 aircraft incident and the 2012 major accident.
Exercising core piloting knowledge, one adds 1500' to the known max height terrain. In this case, 7000' plus 1500', being 8500'. Following IFR rules, that means selecting FL 90 (9000') or higher going easterly, or FL 100 (10,000') or higher going westerly. Thus, for this flight crew, they descended to a level 2000' too low by well-known rules for instrument flying.
Note: Articles linked are in Norwegian.
The dangers of military flying, or rather, of making the wrong decisions when things are critical.
With the 2012 major accident and the 2020 incident, there are indications that the same pattern caused both: It seems warnings by the team was overruled by the most senior pilot. He/she has the power to do so, but in those two instances, whatever the real reasons, the outcome was dangerously unfortunate. Could the five lives lost in 2012 have been saved with proper safety measures invigorated? Could the 2020 drama for two aircraft and crew have been totally avoided?
Yes, they were both avoidable claimed a senior pilot at 335 Squadron in 2017. He decided to blow the whistle on what he termed leadership failure at the squadron, in not stopping unacceptable risk-taking. Operating outside regulations was too common, he said, a part of the culture. The Chief of the Air Force decided to reject his key message. That denial seems unfortunate as we now hear the similarity voiced between the 2020 aircraft incident and the 2012 major accident.
Exercising core piloting knowledge, one adds 1500' to the known max height terrain. In this case, 7000' plus 1500', being 8500'. Following IFR rules, that means selecting FL 90 (9000') or higher going easterly, or FL 100 (10,000') or higher going westerly. Thus, for this flight crew, they descended to a level 2000' too low by well-known rules for instrument flying.
Note: Articles linked are in Norwegian.
337 Squadron, Lynx Mk 86
Reborn in 1980, 337 Squadron became the first Royal Norwegian Air Force squadron to be dedicated to coastguard missions. Delivery of six Westland Lynx Mk86 naval helicopters were synced with the delivery of three "Nordkapp" (North Cape) class of coast guard ships, having a helicopter landing deck at the rear with a hangar right in front of it.
Flight operations were often in the stormy weathers of Northern Norway and the waters beyond the coast. The coastguard vessel needed 15 kts of speed against the wind for proper stability during helo operations. Combine a storm with 15 kts added, and the wind across the deck became hurricane force. Hurricane force winds start at 63 kt, our limit for flight operations was 65 kts.
These operations were all new to the Royal Norwegian Navy, training their deck personnel to quickly and safely moor the helicopter after landing. That was after the pilot decided that the landing was safe, pushing the button to swiftly lower and grip the deck grid by the under-belly "harpoon". After connection it would pull the aircraft down with a force of 3,000 kg. Acutely fierce was the nature of these operations.
One dark night late 1984, the Nordkapp class ship was sailing due west of Bjørnøya (74.30N). Suddenly a fishing vessel sent an emergency message on 'Channel 16', a dedicated coastal radio for offshore distress, reporting a "man overboard". The aircrew was scrambled, airborne within minutes. With 20 mins flight to the search area, arrival time was at the expected survival time of 30 mins in those cold waters. There was urgency in the cockpit – hoping to locate and rescue the man in time.
As the copilot I did not react when the senior pilot instructor slowed down to a hover. I expected he had seen something that could be the man missing, enough so that braking the rules for search and rescue at night was acceptable. I agreed with that priority.
Cruising at 200 ft (60 m), all we were looking for was a head on the surface of the sea. Yet, with the windswept stormy ocean there was plenty of foam tossed away from every crest – making the ocean a carpet full of various shapes. To find the missing person in these conditions, likely dead at this time or nearly so, was like finding the famous needle in a haystack. We still gave it our level best.
I observed that we started moving backwards. If the pilot had seen an object in the water likely the man, and therefore wanted to stay with his observation, yes, maybe so. Maybe not, so if I had reacted then or just voiced my concern, perhaps we could have avoided the following overtorque. Next, I observed that we started losing height, moving backwards more than I liked; "does he really intend to maneuver like this?"
I looked over at my highly experienced colleague, expecting an acutely concentrated pilot if on top of the situation. Observing a relaxed man, I concluded it was time to take imminent action to avoid crashing into the ocean.
Yelling "I got it", as the procedure goes, I yanked the stick forward to stop the backward motion while pulling way more power than allowed – enough to save the day. I understood it would take extraordinary power to get us out of this situation, and decided to add power just shy of breakage point. Setting both engines to 140% power, rather than 110 allowed for emergency use, the descent was stopped and we started moving forward. Relief.
While this save took one brief moment to conduct, the unwrapping of that moment is deep. First was the decision that the pilot on the controls didn't have it together – for whatever the reason (see below). Further, the chosen action included deep knowledge of the breakage point of each major component (engines, gearbox and rotor-head), and what it would take to stop the descent and start climbing in this situation without the aircraft coming apart.
As soon as a positive forward climb was established, just a few seconds, I lowered power to normal. Safe and sound, we aborted the mission and returned to the ship. Landing, we knew there would be no more flight operations for the remaining days at sea. Overpowered as much as the aircraft was, our Lynx got a "RED X", a military term meaning no flight allowed until home base technical analyses would release it.
How did we end up in such a critical situation? This search & rescue mission was conducted during a strong storm in the middle of the night, and the chief pilot experienced "Leans". That's a flight medical term meaning an askew sense of horizon within. When it kicks in our sensed horizon, backward/forward as here, or left/right, is different from reality. It typically happens with no visible horizon, while simultaneously having external impressions drawing us away from keenly watching the instruments to instruct our balance system again and again what is right side up.
With all eyes on finding a man overboard, perhaps saving him from an otherwise certain death, it's easy to have the enormity of the whole situation reduce our instrument scan. Operational hazard it is called, later also happening for the Dedicated Search & Rescue 330 Squadron. In their minor mishap, the tail of the helicopter dipped into the ocean before they were able to get fully airborne again.
In the Lynx incident we lost maybe a third or half of our 200 ft (60 m) altitude, before correcting the flight vector in the direction of the ocean. Dipping our tail in these stormy waves at 74 degrees North would not have been supportive for our health.
Arriving back to the coastguard base, the Lynx was hoisted off the ship onto a semi truck. Back at our air base, no damage was found. They then shipped gearbox and vital rotor parts to the factory in Yeavilton, UK, for deeper analyses. Westland couldn't find damage to any component, either, and the book was rewritten. Emergency power limits were increased markedly from then on.
Flight operations were often in the stormy weathers of Northern Norway and the waters beyond the coast. The coastguard vessel needed 15 kts of speed against the wind for proper stability during helo operations. Combine a storm with 15 kts added, and the wind across the deck became hurricane force. Hurricane force winds start at 63 kt, our limit for flight operations was 65 kts.
These operations were all new to the Royal Norwegian Navy, training their deck personnel to quickly and safely moor the helicopter after landing. That was after the pilot decided that the landing was safe, pushing the button to swiftly lower and grip the deck grid by the under-belly "harpoon". After connection it would pull the aircraft down with a force of 3,000 kg. Acutely fierce was the nature of these operations.
One dark night late 1984, the Nordkapp class ship was sailing due west of Bjørnøya (74.30N). Suddenly a fishing vessel sent an emergency message on 'Channel 16', a dedicated coastal radio for offshore distress, reporting a "man overboard". The aircrew was scrambled, airborne within minutes. With 20 mins flight to the search area, arrival time was at the expected survival time of 30 mins in those cold waters. There was urgency in the cockpit – hoping to locate and rescue the man in time.
As the copilot I did not react when the senior pilot instructor slowed down to a hover. I expected he had seen something that could be the man missing, enough so that braking the rules for search and rescue at night was acceptable. I agreed with that priority.
Cruising at 200 ft (60 m), all we were looking for was a head on the surface of the sea. Yet, with the windswept stormy ocean there was plenty of foam tossed away from every crest – making the ocean a carpet full of various shapes. To find the missing person in these conditions, likely dead at this time or nearly so, was like finding the famous needle in a haystack. We still gave it our level best.
I observed that we started moving backwards. If the pilot had seen an object in the water likely the man, and therefore wanted to stay with his observation, yes, maybe so. Maybe not, so if I had reacted then or just voiced my concern, perhaps we could have avoided the following overtorque. Next, I observed that we started losing height, moving backwards more than I liked; "does he really intend to maneuver like this?"
I looked over at my highly experienced colleague, expecting an acutely concentrated pilot if on top of the situation. Observing a relaxed man, I concluded it was time to take imminent action to avoid crashing into the ocean.
Yelling "I got it", as the procedure goes, I yanked the stick forward to stop the backward motion while pulling way more power than allowed – enough to save the day. I understood it would take extraordinary power to get us out of this situation, and decided to add power just shy of breakage point. Setting both engines to 140% power, rather than 110 allowed for emergency use, the descent was stopped and we started moving forward. Relief.
While this save took one brief moment to conduct, the unwrapping of that moment is deep. First was the decision that the pilot on the controls didn't have it together – for whatever the reason (see below). Further, the chosen action included deep knowledge of the breakage point of each major component (engines, gearbox and rotor-head), and what it would take to stop the descent and start climbing in this situation without the aircraft coming apart.
As soon as a positive forward climb was established, just a few seconds, I lowered power to normal. Safe and sound, we aborted the mission and returned to the ship. Landing, we knew there would be no more flight operations for the remaining days at sea. Overpowered as much as the aircraft was, our Lynx got a "RED X", a military term meaning no flight allowed until home base technical analyses would release it.
How did we end up in such a critical situation? This search & rescue mission was conducted during a strong storm in the middle of the night, and the chief pilot experienced "Leans". That's a flight medical term meaning an askew sense of horizon within. When it kicks in our sensed horizon, backward/forward as here, or left/right, is different from reality. It typically happens with no visible horizon, while simultaneously having external impressions drawing us away from keenly watching the instruments to instruct our balance system again and again what is right side up.
With all eyes on finding a man overboard, perhaps saving him from an otherwise certain death, it's easy to have the enormity of the whole situation reduce our instrument scan. Operational hazard it is called, later also happening for the Dedicated Search & Rescue 330 Squadron. In their minor mishap, the tail of the helicopter dipped into the ocean before they were able to get fully airborne again.
In the Lynx incident we lost maybe a third or half of our 200 ft (60 m) altitude, before correcting the flight vector in the direction of the ocean. Dipping our tail in these stormy waves at 74 degrees North would not have been supportive for our health.
Arriving back to the coastguard base, the Lynx was hoisted off the ship onto a semi truck. Back at our air base, no damage was found. They then shipped gearbox and vital rotor parts to the factory in Yeavilton, UK, for deeper analyses. Westland couldn't find damage to any component, either, and the book was rewritten. Emergency power limits were increased markedly from then on.
Introduction of F-16 in Norway
Norway was an early buyer of the F-16, and bought 72 of the kind at a then record investment. The first landing in country was by LtCol Einar Smedsvig in 1980, he later became Chief of the Royal Norwegian Air Force.
We lost several F-16's during the first few years, where the very first one was a bird strike. A large crane broke the windshield – making the pilot eject. Other aircraft and pilots were lost due to a flight medical issue related to pulling high G's leaning back 30 degrees. It turned out that looking sideways while pulling 9 G's had the potential effect of cutting off blood to the brain. The pilot went unconscious, and by this Norway and other user countries lost many pilots and aircraft.
It took years for the flight medial community in NATO to figure out the F-16 challenge mentioned, and instruct all pilots accordingly to avoid this. In the same manner, the accidents and incidents mentioned above all have the potential to impact how future pilots are even better prepared and trained.
We lost several F-16's during the first few years, where the very first one was a bird strike. A large crane broke the windshield – making the pilot eject. Other aircraft and pilots were lost due to a flight medical issue related to pulling high G's leaning back 30 degrees. It turned out that looking sideways while pulling 9 G's had the potential effect of cutting off blood to the brain. The pilot went unconscious, and by this Norway and other user countries lost many pilots and aircraft.
It took years for the flight medial community in NATO to figure out the F-16 challenge mentioned, and instruct all pilots accordingly to avoid this. In the same manner, the accidents and incidents mentioned above all have the potential to impact how future pilots are even better prepared and trained.
Empowering Leadership
Aircraft incidents and accidents have three elements, a prelude, the event itself, and the aftermath. The intent with this page is also to add value to the discussion of decision making and leadership in general.
Change decisions in business and government are often complex and easily controversial when people's position and influence is altered. If done right, friction and resistance to change in the organization is reduced. If changes are conducted in flow with what works to uplift culture, people are inspired to perform at a higher level.
Are you ready to explore new directions? What kind of leadership and culture do you want?
Change decisions in business and government are often complex and easily controversial when people's position and influence is altered. If done right, friction and resistance to change in the organization is reduced. If changes are conducted in flow with what works to uplift culture, people are inspired to perform at a higher level.
Are you ready to explore new directions? What kind of leadership and culture do you want?
|
Andara AS
Norway – Australia – USA © 2002 - 2025 |