High-wire act

Flight Journal, Aug 2003 by Brodie, James H, Kriegsman, John C, Busha, James P

When a plane was ready to land, a landing trolley would be rolled aft on the cable. A nylon rectangle about 3 feet wide and 4 feet long would be dropped from it. This lariat loop would be flexible, so when the plane hooked it, it would swing back horizontally to avoid pitching the aircraft upward. Attached to the aircraft would be an overhead "pelican-type hook" that would stick up above the propeller arc by 4 feet. This contraption would be held in place by a tripod anchored to the engine-mount bolts at the firewall.

In theory, the pilot would simply fly in and catch the lariat loop. When the aircraft was securely attached to the cable, the trolley would roll down the cable and be controlled by a braking system that was anchored to the base of the structure. The brake system was set for 1/3G tension and would stop the aircraft in 300 feet or less.

For takeoff, the aircraft, equipped with an overhead hook would be raised and hung below a trolley on the runway cable. The pilot would apply full power, and the airplane would roll along the "cable runway" until it attained flying speed. The pilot would then release the aircraft from the trolley using a lanyard that would be strung down into the cockpit holding a release ring. At safe flying speed, usually in about 200 feet, the pilot would pull the handle and give it a jerk, which would instantly detach the pelican hook from the trolley. It would then fly out and away from the ship on its recon mission.

My idea was then forwarded to the Navy for evaluation. After what seemed to be three to four weeks, the Navy contacted me and said that such a "crazy idea" probably wouldn't work, so they weren't interested. I was frustrated because I knew it would work!

A short time later, on a train heading out of New Orleans, fate intervened. I found myself seated next to Lt. Cmdr. George E. Taylor. We began to talk, and I described my idea and my displeasure with the Navy. As I explained the Brodie system in detail, he said, "You're talking to the right guy. My office is in the Pentagon, and my boss is Gen. Dillon, Chief of the Transportation Corp.

As he had promised, Lt. Cmdr. Taylor arranged a meeting with Gen. Dillon, who informed me that the Transportation Corp. "was going nuts" with all the losses caused by U-boats; he had unprotected convoys and wasn't getting any help from the Navy. I smiled and, having fought my own losing battle with them, I understood the general's plight. Gen. Dillon then asked me the million-dollar question: "Are you a flier?" Although it took me only a second to respond, time stood still as I thought of my response, knowing the whole idea and premise relied on my answer. "Yeah, I fly a plane," I said very matter-of-factly. I didn't tell him it was only about two hours in a Cub-as a passenger!

I was given a budget of $10,000 and a choice of where I wanted to conduct the tests. I chose New Orleans. I was familiar with its shipyards and knew the steel fabricators, having worked in the yards before the War. The project was labeled "secret," and Gen. Dillon had me transferred to the Transportation Corp., which was assigned to develop the system. Before I left Gen. Dillon's office, he said, "Get that thing to work because I have no real authority to do this, and if this doesn't work, it's your ass and mine! Dismissed!"

Not wanting to upset my new boss, I took flying lessons on my own and obtained my permit to solo. I was given space in the military maintenance shop at the New Orleans Airport, where I made and installed a primitive hook device for the test aircraft. I was given a Taylorcraft L-2, which I taught myself to fly, and I buzzed the runway to check its flying accuracy for engaging a targeted-landing sling.

Before I climbed in that L-2 and tried to hook the loop, I wanted to be sure that the arresting system would work. I mounted a catch-hook on a Jeep. I raced up the runway in my Jeep, catching the pick-up loop and letting the brake on the cable stop me within a decided distance. It worked! If I could stop a Jeep in a short distance, I sure as hell could stop a Cub!

I was preparing the L-2 and adjusting the hook before my first flight, when an army colonel walked into the hangar and asked, "What's going on here?" I told him it was a secret project-classified-and that I could tell him no more. The colonel, not wanting to be left out, asked, "Are you flying this plane?" I said, Once in a while." He asked to see my flying permit; the jig was up. He grounded me on the spot! I immediately contacted Cmdr. Taylor in D.C. and told him of my dilemma.

I had also made contact with many Air Corps pilots in New Orleans who were awaiting orders for overseas duties. These pilots were asked whether they wanted to get some flight time to obtain flight pay. After looking at the setup and shaking their heads, they said that they would prefer to take their chances in combat than to risk their lives on this.

Within a few days, S/Sgt. Raymond A. Gregory flew into New Orleans in a shiny, new Stinson L-5-direct from his outfit, which was on maneuvers in Florida. A liaison pilot, Sgt. Gregory proved to be very skillful, and he relished the opportunity to participate. A landing rig and cable were erected on the field, and we climbed into the L-2 for the test flight. Although I was demoted to passenger, I was still exuberant about the flight.