War Story No. 2

One of the courses we go through during our extensive training at Undergraduate Pilot Training (UPT) is called Physiological Training. This training deals with how your body reacts to the environment in which we fly airplanes and the things that can happen while flying airplanes. One specific portion of the training deals with the effect of altitude on your body and the problem with the thinning atmosphere as you climb to higher altitudes. This effect is called Hypoxia or oxygen depletion. The end result of oxygen depletion is that eventually your lights go out because your brain is not getting the oxygen it needs. Not a good thing if you are the lone person flying the aircraft. Hypoxia is a high altitude kind of thing which normally occurs well above 10,000 feet. We got a lot of training in the altitude chamber dealing with Hypoxia and your own individual symptoms from Hypoxia. One of the common symptoms is a tingling sensation (kind of what you get when you leg, arm, or other body part goes to sleep) and one that all of us have probably experienced at some point. We were taught to constantly be aware of it and watch for our symptoms. One of my classmates did this with a vengeance while we were in training. Let’s just call him Roger to prevent any blatant incrimination from my part.Hypoxia can sometimes be caused by a malfunctioning oxygen system which includes a mask malfunction. Usually a result of the system not putting out the correct amount of oxygen for the specific altitude you are flying. This oxygen is mixed with ambient cockpit air to make the correct oxygen mix. Again, something that would normally occur above 10,000 feet because our system did not even start mixing oxygen into cockpit air until above 8,000 feet. A fix we do to correct the lack of oxygen is to increase flow, use the emergency oxygen system, or to just rely on ambient air by removing our oxygen mask. That is the setup. Here is the story.One day Roger was flying solo (by himself) when I was getting ground instruction from my Instructor Pilot (IP). We did not get a lot of solo time so it was fun to be the guy responsible for completing successful flight without adult supervision. It was even more fun to not get the famous UNSAT grade for any mission. UNSAT meant you failed the mission and was not a good thing to do because it impacted your class standing which effected your aircraft assignment following pilot training. We also called it “Pinking the Ride.” Don’t ask me where that came from. My IP was also scheduled to be the Squadron Supervisor who is the guy in charge of flying operations and because of that had to be located at the SUP’s (supervisor’s) desk. He was there because all the radios were located there, as well as, other methods of communicating with the outside world. Other people who assigned aircraft, monitored flights, ensured things were legal and such were located here also. You might call it kind of a Command Post thing specific to the squadron. Since I was getting my ground instruction from my IP I likewise had to be down in the area with him. This put me in hearing range of everything that was going on in the world of T-38 training at Williams. I was a man in the know. Now to the story. I shit you not - this is the way I heard it verbatim. I still remember Roger calling the SUP, my IP, and saying that he was having trouble with his oxygen system. When I say calling it is not exactly what I meant. Roger was screaming at the SUP in sheer terror over the radio as if he was facing imminent death within a matter of seconds. Naturally my IP, Butch, nearly jumped out of his skin thinking that he was about to have a major aircraft accident and fatality on his hands. Butch, after what seemed like hours, finally managed to get Roger to respond and slow down his rate of speaking so that he could be better understood. When asked for the specifics of the emergency Roger responded that he was having difficulty with his oxygen system, was having trouble breathing, seemed his mask was malfunctioning and was afraid that he was blacking out from Hypoxia. This Roger did in an extensive diatribe that seemed to go on forever and forever and in great detail. If you would have been there you would have been caught up in the sheer terror that the rest of us were at the time. The suspense was terrible and the air was filled with the electricity of fear. Fear for Roger, fear for his wife, family and for my IP who would be responsible for the loss of a student. No one else, and me specifically, could figure out how to help poor Roger. What question to ask? How can we give him help? What guidance should we give him? What might we possibly do to rescue Roger from this dire emergency? Then without skipping a beat Butch asked him a long list of questions to help refine the issue. I was in awe of how professional Butch was handling this. How knowledgeable and all-knowing my IP was. I thought to myself that I want to be like this man with all my heart. He was my Idol. I was not worthy to be around him. Then Butch asked the final question which made me want to be even more like him. Butch said “where are you at now” meaning what area in the training areas was he in. Roger responded immediately without skipping a beat. Roger said “I am in the pattern.” Within seconds of saying this we all glanced at each other and began to break out in uncontrollable laughter. What an idiot. If he was in the local traffic pattern that meant that he was flying around about 2,000 feet up. The only way you could get Hypoxia here was to hold his breath and tape his nose and other orifices shut. My idol then keeping his professional image (after he nearly passed out from laughing so hard); just matter-of-factly said “Roger - I suggest if you are having trouble breathing then please remove your oxygen mask.” Roger responded that he would. Butch said “ call me back in a couple of minutes so we can see if this fixes your oxygen problem.” Roger responded affirmatively. Naturally by removing his malfunctioning mask Roger began to breathe normally and would not have any issues flying around in the pattern. Roger was asked a few minutes later if he was ok. He said yes. Butch then suggested that he not declare an emergency and that he make his next landing a full-stop. No need to perform a straight-in landing just a normal overhead. And oh-by-the-way stop in after you get down and see him. Roger arrived in the Squadron within 30 minutes and reported in a military manner to Butch. Butch was holding back all the sarcasm he could when he told Roger to make sure he graded his grade sheet UNSAT for the sheer stupidity of thinking he was experiencing an oxygen problem and not being smart enough to remove the mask that was causing the problem. To this day I remember saying to myself that I never want to be such an idiot pilot. Specifically not to advertise to the world over my radios that I am the one who left the building without my clue bag. Thus I, like many before me, learned the prayer we pilots often say before doing something with the potential to show our lack of capabilities to the world. That prayer is “Dear God, please don’t let me F***-up.” After all, it’s all about looking good in the shower! Amen.

This entry was posted on 6. December 2009 at 17:40 and is filed under War Stories, Airplanes, Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.

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