by Mark Tufo
“What?” Robert asks in response.
I merely point toward the aircraft sitting to the north of us and his head turns in that direction.
“Is that a 130?” he asks, knowing full well that it is.
“Yep, and, you see that hump. That tells me it’s an HC-130,” I answer.
“Isn’t that what you flew? Are we going to take that instead?” he asks.
“It’ll add to our time en-route, but yes, let’s go check it out,” I reply.
We walk back to the vehicles and drive north along the ramp, coming to a stop by the nose of the HC-130. The red flags from the various pins and engine covers sway in the breeze. I jump out and I look toward the base operations building adjacent to the ramp near us.
Surely, there is someone around here, I think, but only the gentle summer morning embraces us.
I walk around the aircraft looking for any leaks or signs that it is not airworthy. A ground power unit sits by the left nose of the aircraft with its lines hooked up, and external fuel tanks are attached to both wings.
Finishing with a quick perusal, I walk to the crew entrance door. Opening it, the door swings slowly downward. Above me and immediately inside the entrance, a small galley sits. Farther inside, stairs lead up to the cockpit. To the right, a cargo compartment opens up with a bulkhead separating it from the cockpit. The interior is dimly lit from light streaming in from two windows set into the fuselage on either side.
Stepping off the stairs and walking to the rear of the 130, I lower the rear ramp. The sound of the motors inside stop when the ramp lowers itself to the asphalt with a clunk. Peering inside, there are large fuel tanks taking up most of the cargo area with a small aisle on the left leading to the front. A catwalk leads up and over the inside tanks. Only a little cargo space is left in the rear. Other than the fuel tanks, the cargo interior is empty.
“Wait here,” I say, stepping up on the ramp.
Ready for any action, I walk inside and up the aisle. Next to the bulkhead and over a window, a cot lies against the right fuselage with an olive drab helmet bag lying on top. Several red nylon troop seats are folded against the left fuselage. I continue forward and up the cockpit steps. Helmet bags lie on the four seats within and various consoles fill the interior. The memories jostle inside my head as I reach over and turn the DC power switch to battery and the AC to internal. Needles flicker on the instruments and I hear the gyros spinning up. Looking up to the fuel panel, all of the gauges on the main and aux fuel panels have swung over to the right indicating full. Stepping over to the fuselage tank panel, I see both tanks register full.
Very cool, I think, flipping the switches off.
Opening the helmet bags, I find a helmet and night vision goggles nestled within each one. In the side pockets, I find kneeboards, checklists, grease pens, and marking pens.
Very cool indeed! I walk back outside.
“Are we taking this one?” Robert asks as we gather by the rear ramp.
“Yeah, this one looks operational so I think so. I’ll have to take it up to make sure and acquaint myself with it again,” I answer.
“Are we going with you?” Nicole asks.
“I don’t know yet. Let’s get the stuff loaded out of the vehicles and I’ll think on it,” I respond.
I am in a bit of a quandary. It has been a while since I have taken one of these babies aloft so I don’t really want them onboard for a familiarization flight. Also, I don’t want them on the ground if someone does show up while I’m airborne and off gallivanting in one of their airplanes without even asking permission first.
We load the gear out of the Humvees and into the cargo space stacking it as best as we can. I rummage through the crew chief’s space finding several tie downs and lash the equipment down leaving out the sleeping bags and some water. Finishing with the offloading and parking the Humvees over by the base ops building, we meet by the ground power unit at the front of the 130. A set of headphones sits on the handle with a long cord coiled up next to it.
“This is a start cart. Michelle and Nic, you’ll be outside here during the start. Nic, you’ll have the headset, and when I tell you to disconnect, you pull the cart and headset cords out. Wrap them up, close the latch, wheel it around to the back, and push it in if you can. If not, Robert or I will come back after the start up,” I tell them and show them how to operate the cart.
“I guess this means we are coming with you then, huh?” Bri says.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say, not realizing until this moment that I had made a decision.
“What about the props, they are pretty close?” Michelle asks, eyeing the giant propellers close by, each blade extending outward thirteen feet.
“Not to worry, I’ll be starting the other side first. Both of you come into the cockpit afterward to let me know you are clear of the outside area,” I say.
“Robert and Bri, you’re with me,” I say and walk around the aircraft pulling the pins, intake covers, and chocks before climbing up inside and into the cockpit shutting the front door behind me.
“Robert, you are in the co-pilot seat, and, Bri, you sit in the flight engineer seat. Bri, I want you to study the fuel panel for a bit and get acquainted with it. That’s going to be your job,” I tell her, pointing to the panel mounted in the center above.
The panel itself is pretty self-explanatory with the valve switches aligning with lines marking fuel pathways. The switch either blocks the flow or aligns with it much like a maze puzzle. The switches of the electrical panel near it are marked in a similar manner.
“Robert, you’ll have the gear, flaps, and, if we need it, the radios. The gear is easy, up or down. You know three green means down with the handle down. I will call ‘gear up’ or ‘gear down’. The flaps are in ten percent increments so I will call out a percentage or ‘flaps up’ or ‘full flaps’.’” I say, showing them both how to operate the radio panels at their stations.
“Okay, Bri,” I continue, leaning back to her station, “it’s pretty self-explanatory.”
I show her how the system and switches work. “Make sure you turn the pump on first, and then, the switch allowing fuel to feed from the tank that you are switching to before closing the tank that you are switching it from. Mess that sequence up and you’ll get the chance to see just how quick I can go through an engine restart.” We practice switching tank feeds until she has performed several flawless changes including the fuselage tanks, which are located on a different panel.
I show them how to buckle in and then, I slide into my seat. We slip on the helmets and plug into the radio consoles. Bri’s is a bit loose but stays on for the most part without sliding completely over her eyes. Hearing the power cart start up outside, I reach up and switch the AC switches to external power and the DC to battery. The cockpit comes alive. The gyros spin up as I complete the preflight and before starting engine checklists. I explain to Robert and Bri what I’m doing as I go through each action.
“Nic, can you hear me?” I say through the mic.
“I hear you, Dad,” she responds.
“Okay, we’re ready to start. Once I get the first engine online, I’ll have you disconnect and then you two push the cart to the back. Make sure you don’t go past the ramp to the other side,” I say.
“Okay, Dad,” she replies.
“Is everything clear on the right?” I ask Robert. He leans forward and looks out of his windows.
“It’s clear,” he answers.
“Bri, make sure the engines are feeding out of the main tanks,” I say.
“They are, Dad,” she responds. I peek over my shoulder. All of the crossfeed switches are closed, and the boost pumps are on.
“Good job, Bri,” I say.
“Number three turning,” I say, moving the prop control lever to run, reach up to the #3 engine start button, the inboard one on the right, and depress the button.
Out of my line of sight, the propeller begins to turn. The only indication is a rise in the
instrument readings. The fuel flow gauge immediately rises. By the time the RPM reaches twenty-five percent, the turbine inlet temp gauge begins to increase, showing that ignition has occurred. I release the start button at sixty percent and monitor the gauges. The aircraft vibrates as if alive as the engine comes up to speed and a dull, deep, throaty roar is heard throughout the aircraft, which is only slightly minimized by our helmets. I bring the engine generators online and switch the electrical system to internal power.
“Okay, Nic. Disconnect. See you inside,” I say into the mic.
“Okay, Da—” I hear.
I guess she was in a rush to disconnect since the last part didn’t come through. I look down through the windows, see Nicole and Michelle pulling the cords loose from the aircraft. They disappear as they push the cart beyond my field of vision. I start engine number four in the same manner.
“Robert, go back and help them with the cart and secure it in the back.”
“Okay,” he says, disconnecting and heads into the back. “All done,” Robert says reappearing several minutes later with Nicole and Michelle in tow.
“Nic, Michelle, good job. Nic, take the NAV seat and Michelle can take the pull-down seat beside it. Robert, show them how to put on their helmets, buckle in, and plug into the radio,” I say, pointing to where they should sit.
With everyone in their seats, I tell Robert where the ramp controls are and we close the cargo ramp before I start the remaining two engines.
“Alrighty then. I haven’t blown us up yet,” I say, finishing with the ‘before taxi’ checklist and advance the throttles to start us moving. I also show Robert how to taxi with the taxi wheel rather than the rudders. Looking at the windsock, I taxi to the north runway completing the required checks along the way.
Verifying flaps at fifty percent, I maneuver out onto the runway.
This part is easy, I think, lining up with the centerline. It’s the getting down part that gets tricky.
I run the throttles smoothly up to max, ensuring that I don’t over torque them, and the 130 starts down the runway. The muted, throaty roar of the engines permeates the interior evoking memories of how much I loved rolling down the runway. Easing back on the control wheel with a hand on the throttles, the nose wheel lifts off the ground followed by the main gear a short time later. The VVI (Vertical Velocity Indicator) jumps up; we are airborne.
What an awesome feeling!!!
The events that have transpired are momentarily swept away as we leave the earthly bonds. I loved that one thing about flying, once the wheels are up, all worries leave and a peace settles inside.
“Gear up,” I call over the mic.
Robert reaches over to the gear handle and yanks it upward as I turn off the landing lights. A loud rumble and vibration courses through the aircraft as the gear are drawn upward.
“Flaps up,” I say almost immediately after, as the airspeed increases.
He reaches over and moves the flap lever up. I reset the trim as the aircraft becomes heavier, wanting to settle back with the change in configuration. We climb up to five thousand feet turning over Puget Sound in the cloudless, blue sky.
“Everyone alright?” I ask, looking back and getting thumbs up from everyone. “You can unbuckle and look around if you want.”
Nic and Michelle move over to the windows and stare out from behind the pilot seats. Bri stays in her seat being able to see the blue water of Puget Sound sliding along beneath us from her position. The Olympic Mountains rise majestically in the distance ahead. A quick glance behind through the windows and across the wing on my side shows Mount Rainier overlooking Tacoma and the Cascade Range.
“Okay, Bri, lets switch to the external tanks,” I say, looking back inside to monitor her moves. She does perfectly, turning on the external boost pumps and opening the valves before switching off the main boost pumps.
I spend the next thirty minutes flying around, getting used to the feel of the aircraft once again, and let Robert fly for a bit. His excitement and enthusiasm radiates outward. We switch to the main tanks before heading back.
“Everyone buckle up,” I say, banking back toward the field. “We’re going to see if I can remember how to land this elephant.”
Completing the checklists, I start my descent. Approaching the airfield, Robert blasts out, “Holy shit!”
“What?” I say in response with everyone sitting up a little straighter.
“I think I see a car driving below us,” he answers.
“Where?” I ask.
“In the mall parking lot,” he replies.
I bank the aircraft around so the parking lot is on my side and look down. Sure enough, there is a red car driving in the lot. It comes to a stop and a door opens as I continue to circle. Someone gets out and gazes up at us with their hand up shielding their eyes. I continue circling as I write a note on a tablet strapped to my knee.
‘McChord. You’ll see us parked on north end. Meet us there,’ it says.
“Robert, go back into the cargo area storage and see if you can find something fairly heavy. Michelle, go get two toilet paper rolls, rope, and the duct tape, and bring them up here please.”
They unbuckle and head into the back as I orbit the mall keeping the car and person in sight. They wave as I circle around. A few minutes later, Robert and Michelle return. Robert has a large wrench he found and Michelle with the items I asked for. I wrap the note inside another sheet of paper and duct tape it to the wrench. I cut off a section of rope and put it through the two rolls of toilet paper. I then tie both ends to the wrench and tape it in place. Slowing the aircraft down and trimming it up, I flip the parachute door air deflectors to the open position.
“Robert, can you keep us here while I head into the back?” I ask.
His head swivels over to me with his eyes opening wide and eyebrows raised with the rest of our little group mimicking the look.
“I think so,” he responds.
“Dad, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bri asks behind me.
“Shut up, Bri!” Robert answers instead.
“Easy,” I say.
“Okay, you have the aircraft,” I add and transfer control to him. I sit for a moment watching to make sure he does okay. “I’m going into the back and toss this out of the door. Robert, when I say that I’m ready, I want you to tell me when we’re coming to the north end of the lot.”
“Okay, Dad,” he says. I unbuckle and take my contraption to the rear parachute door unraveling a large part of the toilet paper rolls and bunching them up.
“Can you hear me?” I say, plugging into the intercom system and attaching the safety line at the left door.
“I hear you,” comes through the helmet speakers.
I swing the door open and am greeted by the rush and roar of the wind outside. I’m protected from the blast by the shield doors extending out into the slipstream. The ground looms outside, and I have an unrestricted view of the roads, buildings, and greenery below. The angle of bank is altering and the nose rising and descending.
“Easy there, buckaroo,” I say into the microphone. “Small, easy corrections. Tell me when we are approaching the north end.”
The aircraft stabilizes to a degree, and I can see where we are, but I want a verbal verification of my visual. The parking lot appears in my frame of reference as we circle again and I see the red car in the middle of the mostly empty lot.
“Coming up on the north end,” Robert says.
“Okay,” I respond and toss the wrench, complete with the bunched up toilet paper rolls, out of the door.
The slipstream immediately carries the contraption back and out of sight. Peeking my head out of the door into the chilled air, I see the toilet paper unfurl creating a white streamer as the wrench plunges toward earth.
I hope it doesn’t land on any building roofs, I think, seeing the wrench head toward the north end of the parking lot. Or hit them in the head. That would really suck.
I watch the wr
ench plummet and strike the roof of one of the few cars in the parking lot at its most northern end. The car roof caves in and glass explodes outward.
“Ouch,” I say softly, cringing slightly.
“What!” Robert’s question comes through the earphones.
“Um, nothing,” I say as I close the door and make my way back to the cockpit. Buckling in and taking control, I continue our descent to the airfield and arrive on a downwind leg.
“Gear down,” I call at mid-field. The rumble of the gear is both heard and felt in the cockpit. Approaching the turn to base, I call for ten percent flaps. On base leg, I call for fifty percent flaps and continue descending to final.
“Full flaps,” I say after rolling out on final and aligning with the centerline.
I push forward on the control wheel and trim to compensate for the increase in lift and drag. Aiming for the threshold, I make small adjustments with the throttle to keep the indicator glued to the final approach airspeed. Coming up to the threshold, I bring the nose up and the throttles back until they hit the flight idle detent. I feel the main gear touch, rocking the aircraft slightly.
Still got it, I think, lowering the nose to the runway. I always had a knack for landing the 130.
“Flaps fifty percent.” I apply power once again, doing a touch and go. We do a few more landings before I pull the throttle into reverse thrust on the final one, taxi back to the ramp, and shut down.
“We need to gather charts and flight plan,” I say. We are standing on the ramp again having left our helmets and gear inside the aircraft. “The base ops building here should have everything we need. Robert, see that truck?” I point to a fuel truck parked by the building.
“Yeah.”
“Go get it and pull it up behind the right wing. Your goal is to not hit the aircraft. I’m going into the building to get what we need.”
I pull the M-4 and vest from our gear in the cargo area and walk to the building. Robert walks alongside until he heads over to the fuel truck. A ‘Welcome to McChord AFB’ sign is posted above the double glass doors leading into the building. With the vest secured, I test the doors leading in, finding them both unlocked.
