Where's the alternate for the alternate?

Approach, Sept, 2001 by Kevin Mulligan

The flight-school instructor always warned us to beware of hops that seem benign. What was to be the most routine hop of the weekend turned out to leave us all quaking in our boots.

Four aircraft were to launch as two sections and fly an administrative leg from MCAS Beaufort to NAS Pensacola. The following day, we were to work in the warning areas off Pensacola doing 2 v 2 intercepts. When we went wheels-in-the-well, we thought we had considered every "what if" scenario.

On Friday afternoon, rain was soaking the entire East Coast, and the non-scheduled pilots headed to the club. The pilots scheduled for local hops were waiting to get cancelled, so they could go to club. The aircrews on the cross-country hops, however, were trying to find a way to get to more appealing locations. The weather from Texas to Chicago and points east was overcast. A moving weather system made it difficult to accurately forecast the sky conditions for any period of time. After two hours of watching the forecast screen, talking to the weather forecaster, and calling various alternate airfields, the destination weather improved enough to make our launch legal.

Having found a window of opportunity at NAS Pensacola, and having NAS New Orleans as a legal alternate, we launched our two sections. My aircraft was Dash 2 of the second section. My lead was working up for Top Gun and WTI. He and his WSO had both experienced a WestPac cruise. In my backseat was the XO of our squadron. I was the new guy, having been in the squadron for two months. It was my first road show, and I was looking to get my first taste of air-to-air in the mythical fleet.

Being fat on gas, we expedited our leg down to Pensacola. The lead section, led by a major, was 30 minutes ahead of us. His WSO was a member of our squadron, who had over a year in the fleet and one WestPac under his belt. Dash 2 of that section was a classmate of mine in the FRS. His WSO, a major, was also heading for Top Gun and WTI.

The games began upon their arrival at Pensacola. The lead section found the weather rapidly changing. Dash 2 went missed approach after the GCA controller brought him down too far right of course. As he went missed approach, he could see the approach lights through the fog passing under his left wingtip. His lead landed safely, and Dash 2 brought it around for another try. In the time it took him to go around the box pattern, the weather had gone to minimums. On his second attempt, again the controller brought him down too far right for a safe approach. Checking his fuel state, he diverted to New Orleans.

After shutdown, the lead's WSO called back to the squadron and advised that, if we hadn't departed yet, we should stay in Beaufort. Since we were on different discrete tactical frequencies, we had not maintained any communication between the two sections. As he spoke to the operations duty officer, the sound of our engines announced our arrival overhead Pensacola. The weather still was being reported at minimums. Lead sent me down first, trying to get me on deck.

The sun was setting in the west, casting orange and red shadows across the top of the cloud deck. The idea of shooting an approach to minimums, at night, wasn't on my top-10 list of things to do. I was determined to make this approach count and land before the sun went down. "Land this beast, go have a few beers, play a couple games of Crud, and hope for better weather tomorrow," I thought.

As I came in on my approach, the GCA controller brought me down too far right. Going missed approach, I never saw the approach lights for the runaway. I cleaned up the aircraft and went back into the CGA box pattern. Lead was having a similar experience. As I turned base leg, I heard lead go missed approach and turn downwind. Checking our fuel state, we decided we would give it one more shot and then head for New Orleans. Our weather report said conditions there were 800 and two.

Turning onto final, the final approach controller announced that the weather was now below minimums. I rogered the call but having commenced the approach, we decided to give it a try. Coming down the chute again, the controller again brought me down slightly right of course. Though he was calling me on course at my decision height, I could not see the approach lights.

However, as I went missed approach, I caught a glimpse of the rabbit lights going under my left wing. "There it is," I said.

"I see it," said the XO.

However, I had bought my missed approach, and we now were committed to New Orleans.

Lead followed my path over the ground but did not attempt the approach. He had coordinated both aircrafts' clearances to New Orleans and followed me as we climbed out and headed west. We got as high as we could, as fast as we could, pulled up FPAS (Flight Performance Advisory System), and started working the numbers. The winds aloft were faster than predicted--we had nearly 80 knots in the face. Hawking the numbers now, both crews were on a bingo profile into New Orleans. FPAS showed us landing with 2,000 pounds of gas. Since the weather was reported as 800 and two, we were not worded about having to deal with Pensacola's conditions.