The longest delay

Approach, July-August, 2005 by Stephen Allum

I had completed the best possible JO tour with the VS-24 Scouts: two combat cruises filled with moonless, overcast night traps, unforgettable port-call memories, and other squadron functions to reminisce on later in life. However, my last encounter with the "War Hoover" was anything but enjoyable.

It was late July 2003, and I was scheduled to fly with a good friend--call sign "Mr. Gadget" for this article. Our typical "routine, good deal" flight was scheduled to last only a couple of hours, and then return to NAS Jacksonville. What could go wrong? It was morning and VFR. We were two senior JOs with plenty of S-3 experience, and squadron NATOPS instructors. The first part of the flight went as planned, with no problems or surprises. Then we encountered the dangerous part of the flight: the airnav home.

When we reached our final cruising altitude of FL190, the No. 1 bleed-leak light came on. This light means an over-temperature condition in excess of 127 degrees Celsius in the vicinity of an applicable bleed line. This condition generally is caused by a broken or cracked line, seal or fire in the environmental-control system (ECS) compartment. We secured the No. 1 bleed-air switch according to NATOPS. But, the second we closed the No. 1 bleed-air system, the No. 2 bleed-leak and APU bleed-leak lights illuminated, while smoke entered the cockpit. We continued with the remaining immediate-action items of donning our O2 masks and securing the No. 2 bleed-air switch.

While watching the clock, waiting for the lights to extinguish and smoke to clear, I remembered this warning in NATOPS: "Simultaneous illumination of the No. 1 and No. 2 bleed-leak lights may indicate an ECS compartment fire. In this event, the crew should be alert for secondary indications that would confirm a fire, such as smoke or fumes in the cockpit." Mr. Gadget reached for his PCL, and then the fun really began.

Waiting for at least one of the three bleed-leak lights to extinguish, the No. 1 hyd-level light illuminated (which meant less than two gallons of fluid remained in the No. 1 system). Smoke continued to fill the cockpit, so Mr. Gadget and I began to perform more boldface procedures for smoke or fumes removal, including securing the air conditioning, opening the auxiliary vent, and dumping cabin pressure. The results were limited, and the smoke remained. We had reached a four-minute wait in the PCL on the bleed-leak procedure for the lights to extinguish.

Then I made the call I thought I never would have to say, "Atlanta center ... Scout 7 ... declaring an emergency ... we've got some bleed problems and smoke in the cockpit."

I moved the transponder dial to "EMER," and Mr. Gadget dialed in 7700. Then the master-caution panel illuminated the cockpit with more "attention-getting" lights, including: wing unlock, speedbrake caution, trailing-edge flaps locked, and the transition light in the landing-gear handle (handle still in the up position).

While looking down at the master-caution panel--I was reminded of Chevy Chase's house in "Christmas Vacation"--I knew we were in serious trouble. I saw the ECS-fire light. Center did an outstanding job vectoring and descending us to our nearest divert and satisfying all our requests, but, unfortunately, the situation only got worse.

While in the descent to a lower altitude, we saw the No. 2 hydraulic gauge decrease to zero, followed shortly by more stick pressure on the controls to maintain straight and level. I performed the aircraft-failure-to-respond-to-control-inputs boldface. But, more smoke began to enter the cockpit, and the jet went uncommanded into its emergency-flight-control system (EFCS). The EFCS is an automatic changeover that takes place when total hydraulic pressure drops below 800 psi. It is completely mechanical and, with the aid of the independent trim system, is like driving your car with no power steering.

This was not our day. I told the warrior sitting beside me, "We're in EFCS, and I'm securing the hydraulic servos."

The jet still was controllable, but we avoided big angle of banks and high airspeeds. Center assisted us with a long straight-in, so we could lose altitude without using speedbrakes, maintain control, and finish required checks for emergency extension of gear and flaps. As if we weren't busy enough, our navigation and several instrument displays quit working; then, our radios and ICS went silent. Mr. Gadget yelled me a vector to our intended point of landing (with his hand-held GPS on his knee), but we didn't make it.

A few moments later, the smoke became extremely thick in the cockpit, and then the nightmare occurred. The control stick lost all stiffness and went completely limp in all directions, while the aircraft remained in straight and level flight. The stick had no inputs to any of the flight controls.

You have got to be kidding me! I looked up and saw that the hydraulic servos remained in the off position and that we were passing 10,000 feet. We had a failure of the flight controls while flying in EFCS? Where is that EP in the PCL? What else could we do to extinguish this fire and save the aircraft?