BAILOUT!: FROM HITTING THE SILK TO PULLING THE HANDLE

Flight Journal, Feb 2004 by Tillman, Barrett

Perhaps the most horrifying parachuting ordeal ever recorded was that of Lt. Sam Logan of Marine Fighting Squadron 112, who was shot down in a dogfight over the Solomon Islands in June 1943. Logan abandoned his burning Corsair at about 18,000 feet (a remarkably consistent altitude) but pulled the ripcord too soon. Dangling in midair, he attracted a murderous Zero pilot who made repeated firing passes, trying to kill the Marine in midair. Out of ammunition, the Japanese resorted to butchery.

As Logan desperately yanked on the risers, trying to spill enough air to increase his descent, the Zeke bored in close-too close to miss. Parts of Logan's feet were sliced off by the propeller. Trying to ignore the incredible pain, Logan continued tugging on the lines as the Zero banked around for another pass.

Providentially, a New Zealand P-40 arrived to chase off the Zero. Logan was rescued, and once rehabilitated, he was able to fly again.

Peacetime perils

One typical problem inherent in a manual bailout occurred over the Chesapeake Bay in 1952, when Marine Lt. Col. Marion Carl conducted a spin test on the single-engine AF-2S Guardian. Carl forced the big Grumman into a right-hand stall at 11,000 feet. He let the spin progress to two turns and then initiated recovery procedures. On the second turn, the nose came level with the horizon. "I was in a flat spin and knew I had real trouble," Carl explained.

"I tried the standard remedies: neutral controls, full power, stick forward, everything-no good. I rode it through several turns; I had to get out of that airplane."

The Guardian had side-by-side seating with the pilot on the left; however, the centrifugal force of the starboard spin prevented Carl from bailing out his side. "I had to crawl across the empty seat and try the far side. But the force of the spin made this take too much time. The water was rushing up to meet me, as the dizzying spin held me inside. I was trapped.

"I pulled myself across the cockpit into the swirling slipstream across the starboard wing. Somehow I avoided snagging my parachute on anything, and as soon as I reached the wing, I pulled my D-ring. There wasn't one second to spare."

Circling overhead, two more Navy test pilots saw the AF-2 impact the water. With no visible chute, they concluded that Marion Carl-triple ace and survivor of Midway, Guadalcanal and the upper Solomons-was dead.

In fact, Carl's parachute deployed at the last possible second. He didn't even swing once in his harness but splashed down close beside the Grumman. He concluded, "Had I been on land, I would have broken both legs."

Manual bailouts remain the only option for many military aircraft well into the jet age. In 1973, Ensign Louis "Seadog" Fodor was on a combination ferry/navigation training mission from Guam to the Philippines. He was one of three navigators, including an instructor and another student, aboard an EA-3B Skywarrior. Long story short: despite Fodor's warnings, the senior instructor and the pilot ran the "Whale" out of fuel somewhere east of Japan. Finding a Japanese ship, the crew made a manual bailout via the A-3's escape hatch. Three good parachutes blossomed over the Pacific expanse. Seadog Fodor kept falling.