DIVE! DIVE!! Dive!!! The year was 1977. It was a night of routine night flying on Vikrant. Another Seahawk pilot was up in the air to get his night DLQ (Deck Landing Qualification). Night landing on deck is believed to be amongst the most demanding tasks that a human being can undertake. For those not familiar with the technique of deck landing in a conventional fixed wing aeroplane on Vikrant: The pilot was required to ride the meat ball Roger i.e. keep the reflection of the source light in the centre of the landing sight mirror, and also keep aligning with the yellow centre line of the angle deck, (which kept moving to the right in a crabby motion as the ship moved forward). For the Seahawk the hook on speed was 112.5 kts. Veterans and above average pilots always came in at correct speed (not me). But I used to get caught for wrong speed. If the speed was low, the MCO (Mirror Control Officer) reported higher than normal attitude. And if the speed was high, the FDEO (Flight Deck Engineering Officer) reported extra pull out of the arrester wire. At night, angle deck centre line was indicated by seven amber lights. Sometimes during bolters (intention to hook on, but hook failing to catch any wire) odd embedded centre line light was ripped out by the hook. So number of centre line lights could be less than seven. Coming in to land with four amber lights was not abnormal. Also there were ten white lights to mark the centre line of the axial deck. Coming back to 1977...., I was SDO (Squadron Duty Officer) that night. FDO (Flight Deck Officer) was standing at fly one (forward most part of the flight deck) and I was standing next to the steel framework outside ACR (Aircraft Control Room). Ground crew were crouching near by, ready to jump to action as soon as the Hawk landed. As the Hawk was coming in for another roller, I could sense some thing wrong with the approach. I could not put my finger on it, but some thing was definitely wrong as the Seahawk crossed the round down. And next moment the green navigation light of the screaming Seahawk flashed past my nose at a distance of EIGHTEEN inches. I could be wrong with my distance estimation, as I did not have measuring tape with me. It could be seventeen inches, but definitely not nineteen. Even before I could swivel my head to right, my brain was screaming, DIVE! DIVE!! DIVE!!!. (Vocal cords in any case are useless on an active flight deck) The pilot had mistakenly lined up with better illuminated axial deck centre line. I saw the starboard wing of the roaring Seahawk flash past over the FDO, who had flattened himself against the deck like a lizard. If some one had told me that our bulky FDO could dive for the deck at that lightning speed, I would have dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. But self preservation makes people do strange things. Eventually the Seahawk landed. I stepped back into ACR (Aircraft Control Room) and sat down in the nearest vacant chair. A moment later, FDO came in and sat down opposite me. We took out our India Kings and with trembling hands, lit up, and stared at each other for a long time.
Posted on: Sat, 10 May 2014 15:08:05 +0000
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