After The Ejection

Flying Safety, Nov, 2001 by Kurt Saladana

You're standing on the ground looking at two plumes of black smoke about a mile to the south and asking yourself: "What the hell just happened?'"

A few minutes ago you were in the "phone booth' with an F-16. The 1 v 1 dissimilar air combat mission started out as a Beyond Visual Range engagement, but with positive Visual Identification required. Of course, the fight quickly turned into a close-in, turning, knife-fight-tactically a mistake, but a lot of fun to fly. You briefed face-to-face and adhered to all regulations and rules of engagement. Or at least you thought you did. You lost sight when you both went into the vertical and called "Blind!" but heard "Continue" in response. You remember a loud bang just before your aircraft departed controlled flight and started coming apart. You don't actually member pulling the ejections or performing any of the actions required for the parachute landing fall (PLF), but you're standing up, 'a little shaken but not really feeling any pain. The rote training must have worked as advertised.

You begin to become more alert, sort of like when you were in college and drifted off in class, then suddenly regained focus. The emergency radio is in your hand and you're not sure how it got there, but you begin to transmit, first to the F-16 you fighting and then in the blind. There isn't any response-you were the last mission on the schedule, so there probably isn't anyone else on the ranges.

The two smoke plumes and lack of comm with the F-16 lead you to believe it also crashed, so you scan the horizon looking for the other pilot. You don't see anyone, but he could be masked behind terrain, hurt or unconscious. Okay, what do you do now?

"First Steps"

In a combat situation, you would grab your hit-and-run kit and employ escape and evasion training while setting yourself up for combat rescue. But what do you do in peacetime? Some actions are obvious. If you are in imminent danger (for example, the crashed aircraft started a brush fire that is sweeping toward you), do whatever is required to save your skin. If you are standing in driving rain or blowing snow, try to find (or make) shelter. If immediate danger is not a factor, the best plan is to stay where you are, drink some water and spend a little time thinking about your situation and what you really need to do next.

Reviewing ejections that have occurred over the past five years, it is apparent that stopping and thinking is not a common post-PLF action. There are several reasons for this. The first, and probably most significant, is shock. In all likelihood, the person who ejected was flying along fat, dumb and happy, enjoying a perfectly normal flight during a perfectly normal day just before an emergency necessitated ejection. Being thrown suddenly from your aircraft at up to 12 Gs and hitting the ground only minutes or seconds later is, at the least, disorienting. Short-term memory loss is not unusual for the period from just prior to ejection through the PEF. Next, there is a natural tendency for the pilot to waste brain-bytes by second-guessing actions taken leading up to ejection: Did I do everything correctly? Did I miss something? Did I do something wrong?

Another reason for not taking time to properly assess the situation has to do with the type of people who fly ejection seat-equipped aircraft and the training these people receive. A person flying a high performance aircraft is one of only a few selected from a large number. To qualify to get into the cockpit, the person had to demonstrate ability, aptitude and attitude suitable for flying combat missions. Invariably, this means the person is, dynamic, at least in the flying-related aspects of his or her life. Because we "train like we fight," our ejection training stresses combat survival more than peacetime risk management. While preserving life and preventing further injury are the bottom line in either case, the considerations are significantly different. On a peacetime training mission you aren't worried about evading an enemy.

"What Next?"

So, what should you do after your PLF if there is no immediate danger and the weather is tolerable? The answer is simple, and one that student pilots hear on a daily basis--slow down, think about the situation and use common sense. This is an unnatural course of action. Chances are, if you just ejected your system is pumped full of adrenaline and you body demands action. Your training reinforces this Unfortunately, taking unnecessary action is probably the worst option available.

If you just ejected, you probably suffered some form of injury, and you will be experiencing some degree of shock. This shock, and the adrenaline in your system, can easily mask serious injury. You could have damaged your spine or internal organs, but feel on ill effects. If this is the case, moving around unnecessarily is going to expose you to the risk of further injury. In a "worst case scenario" this could mean a hangman's fracture--a complete fracture of one of the uppermost vertebrae through which passes all of the wiring for your central nervous system--and the chance of suffering permanent spinal damage. To be blunt, moving around unnecessarily after ejecting and before being examined by qualified medical personnel could result in you spending the rest of your life in a Wheelchair. A more common ejection-related injury is the fracture of the vertebrae of the lower back. This may not leave you a paraplegic, but it could leave you with a life filled with chronic pain and restricted motion. (Kiss flying a bang-seat aircraft. lifting, up your kids or breaking 100 on the links goodbye! And, even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to fly a helicopter.)