Higher ranking officers within the structure of a tactical fighter bomber unit would always make every effort to maintain their flying proficiency in the primary mission aircraft assigned to the wing. Their requirement to oversee the military base and assure its fine tuned operation, security considerations, operational readiness of the assigned aircrews and aircraft, personnel matters, and unit cohesion took up most of their time. But they were rated pilots and needed to continue to fly when the time allowed, for personal and professional reasons. In short these Colonels and command officers wanted to continue to be “one of the boys”. In 1962 at RAF Lakenheath in the United Kingdom in the 48th Tactical Fighter Wing, with its three Squadrons of North American F-100D aircraft, that was also the case.
All military pilots are required by firm regulations to fly a certain number of hours to maintain flight status which, in addition to the strong desire to remain active as an aviator, meant also that one was entitled to an additional monetary stipend to their monthly paycheck. Within that minimum hourly flight requirement, it was necessary that certain categories of flying be fulfilled. That included a minimum numbers of hours flying in instrument conditions, whether in actual weather conditions or flying under a hood that kept the pilot from any outside visual reference, where aircraft control was restricted to reference to the instrumentation within the cockpit. The requirements, within a six months time frame, also dictated a certain number of night flight hours, along with six actual instrument approaches where navigational aids were utilized to orient the aircraft to a safe recovery.
On the evening of April 16, 1963 Colonel Allen Rankin and I were to undertake a night time departure from RAF Lakenheath, England, the home base of the 48th Tactical Fighter Wing, with a planned night round robin cross country to Spangdahlem Air Base in West Germany as our turn point with a return to Lakenheath. Our intent was to fulfill some of the flight minimums described above and to keep Colonel Rankin current in the F-100 aircraft. Colonel Rankin was, at the time, the Vice Commander of the 48th Wing and was a highly respected officer who had a great rapport with his troops. It was an unwritten procedure that officers with the rank of Colonel or any General would fly with another line pilot with the understanding that the demand of their other responsibilities would not allow them to be as fully cognizant of standard procedures or as proficient as those that flew on a daily basis. Also understood was that flight safety would be enhanced by a two man crew.
There was a two place version of the F-100 Century series fighter, the F-100F, which was identical in almost every respect to the single seat models, the F-100C and F-100D, except that it had an enlarged cockpit that enabled two pilots to sit in tandem. Instrumentation within each seat was similar and the rear had a sliding hood that could be pulled completely over the pilot and who could therefore fly the aircraft as if in actual weather conditions. Each squadron had two of the dual place F-100F aircraft available for use. Hooded instrumentation flight was essential to maintain the capability to maintain instrument flight proficiency. Flying within a solid cloud environment was considered the best of all situations for maintaining proficiency but those conditions were not always available, especially when most jet aircraft flying is accomplished at high altitude above most of the cloud conditions.
Colonel Rankin and I completed our flight planning and made a departure from the England base just after sunset. Our route was eastbound over the English Channel north of the white cliffs of Dover, over a bit of northern France, then crossing Belgium over-flying Brussels, and entering West Germany on a direct route to Spangdahlem. I occupied the front seat with the Colonel in the rear getting both night flight time and some hooded instrument practice. As an F-100 instructor pilot, the responsibilities of pilot-in-command were mine. Contrary to most military chain of command situations, when two pilots were in one aircraft it was not automatic that the senior was in charge. Flight experience and proficiency were of more concern as to who was in command of the aircraft. In any case it had been my responsibility to sign the flight plan and therefore was the designated command pilot.
As we neared Spangdahlem on an uneventful flight in mostly clear air conditions, the plan was to fly a practice instrument approach and letdown to the airfield, make a low approach, and return to home base. But as we letdown from our cruise altitude of 32,000 feet to 20,000 feet where the instrument approach would begin, I noticed a problem. The oil pressure gauge normal reading of 35 psi was beginning to decrease. The green arc on the dial from 20 to 40 psi was the safe operating range for oil pressure for the engine. All engines with moving functions, of necessity, must have continuous lubrication of those keys parts or bad things will happen. The drop off was slow but constant and once the needle on the gauge fell below 20 psi, I knew ill feelings would be most evident both within the minds of the two pilots aboard and with the functioning of the engine. I pointed out the oil pressure drop off to Colonel Rankin, who had also noticed the malfunction. With full concurrence of the Colonel, I took control of the aircraft, broke off the planned instrument approach and gave complete attention towards the recovery of the aircraft at Spangdahlem as soon as practical.
In all of my jet flying experience up till then a major point of training was the maneuvering of the aircraft in what is termed a simulated flame out landing or SFO, a 360 degree circling approach from a safe altitude. Conditions now dictated the employment of this maneuver to assure we could recover even if the engine quit running. The only abnormal indication was the slow drop off of the oil pressure. Had the oil pressure gauge been lying to us and was nothing but a faulty instrument, it was highly unlikely we would be observing a slow decrease in pressure as was evident. There was no doubt – the gauge was to be believed and the name of the game was to get quickly on the ground. The simulated flame out procedure for the F-100 called for a high key point of 10,000 feet directly over the intended touch down point, followed by a circular pattern hitting a low key point of 5,000 feet abeam the intended landing some two miles removed. After this 180 degree turn the next key point was at a wide base leg at the 270 degree point, at an altitude of 2,500 feet. From that point gear was lowered and flaps as necessary to make a touchdown of between 180 and 155 knots airspeed depending on the fuel load.
As we neared the high key point at an idle power setting with a 220 knot speed established the constant slow decrease of the needle passed the 20 psi point and kept on with its slow but steady descent. The concern of the two occupants was ever increasing. The night was dark but the runway lights were on bright as I had requested from the control tower. There were some lower clouds that would briefly obscure our vision, but fortunately not for any extended time. I had practiced this SFO maneuver on many occasions, but never at night over a strange airfield. Colonel Rankin and I were of the same mind set – we simply wanted to get this airframe on the runway before the oil pressure gauge dropped to the zero setting. It was a strained feeling, observing the slow drop of the needle which seemed to be in parallel with our drop in altitude.
The throttle had not been moved from the idle position since establishment of the high key point in the SFO but as the landing was made I brought it to a cut off or stop cock position. The runway felt good as the touchdown was accomplished at 170 knots (196 miles per hour). As the roll out was made the oil pressure gauge read two psi – any oil pressure remaining at that point was unknown. We only knew we had gotten on the ground prior to the engine locking up from a lack of lubrication and were relieved to have done so.
The maintenance personnel at Spangdahlem quickly got on the problem and advised us that a main bearing seal had failed, there was no engine damage, and repair could be accomplished. Colonel Rankin and I spent two nights in the Visiting Officers Quarters and on the second day got back in our repaired F-100F and flew back to RAF Lakenheath. The Colonel went back to the business of the Vice-Commander of the base and the Captain to the duties of a squadron fighter pilot during the Cold War, equally thankful for the successful conclusion of the mission.
Wings Over Cumberland 