Marc Liebman's Blog, page 31

Joys of Drooping

In a helicopter, drooping is a term that refers to a slowing of rotor rpm below what is considered normal. In the Navy, we used percents, but in some helicopters, the actual rpm is used. But either way, the concept of drooping is the same. For the sake of discussion, and as a Naval Aviator, percentages will be used in this post.

So, if the rpm under “normal” operations is is 102% and the rpm decays for whatever reason, to 96%, then the pilots have “drooped” 6%. Normal operating rpm is determined by the manufacturer and is usually the ideal rotor rpm where the most lift is generated. Go much above the normal range requires more power, increases wear and tear on the rotor system and generates less lift. Go much below, and lift drops off, abeit slowly.

Why is this important? When back in the bad old days when helicopters didn’t have the surplus power they have now, to get off the ground, we had to pull up the collective, watch the rpm drop and hopefully, at some point, the helicopter would lift off before the rpm got to some bottom limit.

In the H-3, the magic number was 94% because that was 2% above the speed when the generators would drop off the line. At 88%, the hydraulic pumps would stop pumping and at that point, nothing mattered anymore because the helicopter was now uncontrollable and soon, you would be dead.

I flew four models of the H-2, the single engine A/B, both the UH-2C, the HH-2C and the HH-2D. All had the same main rotor system. The HH-2C and HH-2D had four bladed tail rotors while the A/B and UH-2C had tail rotors with only three blades. The A/B and the UH-2C also had the same transmission while the one in the HH-2C/D was an upgraded unit.

In another post on the site, I describe the difference in flying the different models. Simply put,  with only one engine in the A/B, one barely had enough power to turn the rotorblades. In the C, you had twice as much power feeding the same transmission and could easily over torque the transmission. Too much torque and the main shaft in the transmission could fail and the main rotor blades would depart the helicopter and ruin your day. The other problem was that at high power settings, we could run out tail rotor authority and the helicopter would rotate around its vertical axis. The HH models fixed those problems.

In the twin engine H-2s, drooping never happened. In the earlier single engine A and Bs, drooping was a way of life.

I started our flying the A and B models and the first thing I learned was that we would take off, depending on the density altitude with much less than fuel. According to my NATOPS manual (Navy’s version of the pilot’s operating manual) you could load 1,883 pounds (277 gallons) of jet fuel into the internal fuel cells. And, the helicopter could carry an addtional 780 pounds (115 gallons) in external tanks.  Never did I ever take off in an A/B with external tanks. Most of the time, we launched with the forward, a.k.a. the sump tank full which mean we had about 700 pounds (103 gallons) on board. A short roll forward got us past 15 knots, into translational lift and the helicopter was airborne.

Hovering with 700 pounds of fuel on a hot, humid day at sea was another story. To hover, we routinely dumped fuel down to about 400 pounds. Even then, the rotor rpm would drop from 100% to 98% or even as low as 96%. No big deal. Once whomever or whatever you were picking up was on board, simply dump the nose, get back into translational lift and away we went.

Since my introduction to the H-2A/B was in the summer and by the ocean, the weather was always hot and humid. On the pilot’s or HAC’s collective, there was an rpm switch which enabled the pilot to beep up the engine speed to force the engine to develop more power. This had its limits and drooping was routine. As a brand new co-pilot, I watched several HAC’s calmly let the rotor rpm droop to 92%!

I’ve talked to many Army UH-1 Huey pilots who flew in Vietnam and asked them about drooping. They laughed and said they drooped, banged their skids along the runway trying to get into translational lift.

Today, in the H-60 series helicopters flown by the Navy, drooping is considered a bad thing. My view is that teaching pilot how to use drooping to expand the performance envelop is important. The technique gives pilots confidence that the helicopter flies quite well at less than optimum rpm. This is important to know if one engine has failed, and the helicopter is heavy and is flying at either high altitude or hot and humid conditions or some combination.

To an old guy helicopter pilot, to droop or not to droop is a matter of perspective.

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Humidity, High Temperatures, Altitude and Helicopters Are a Bad Mix

Let’s start with the basics. Helicopters are designed to be operated close to the ground that is at or near sea level. If you don’t believe me, go spend a few hours with the pilot operating handbooks of any particular U.S. built helicopter.

While you are poring over the charts and tables, take a gander at the helicopter’s performance numbers when the temperature is above 90oF and 70% humidity. Add in a modest amount of altitude and a helicopter that could hover at maximum gross weight at sea level, can’t hover at all at 5,000.

Allow me to explain. As one goes higher in the atmosphere, the air gets thinner and there is less oxygen. If you every skied or hiked or walked around at 10,000, you’ll know what I mean.

Here’s how the lack of density or to use the aviation term, density altitude affects a helicopter. Heat and humidity make the air less dense which translates to less power and less lift. So, since the air thins as one gains altitude, by definition to get the same amount of liftat 5,000 or 10,000 feet a helicopter enjoys at sea level, requires more power. However, if you study the charts long enough, you’ll notice that very quickly altitude reduces helicopter ability to fly and more importantly, its ability to hover.

The helicopter pilot faces a double whammy in hot and high operations. His engines are generating less power and the rotor blades are creating less lift. Combine high temperatures and high altitude and very quickly, a very capable machine becomes a slug.

The solution is more blade area and lots of excess power. The two U.S. helicopters that seem to excel at high altitudes are the H-47 and the H-53E. Why, lots of blades – the twin rotor H-47 has six large blades and powerful engines. The H-53E has three engines and six blades. The 53E’s replacement, the H-53K will have bigger engines still and seven main rotor blades.

I’ve flown the H-2C/D as high as 6,000 feet around the mountains of Vermont where there are several peaks that get close to 5,000 feet. At that altitude, the controls were becoming sloppy and we were limited to a maximum true airspeed of 90 knots.

The H-3 models I’ve flown (A/G/Ds) in the mountains as high as 9,000 feet, we were limited to 80 knots true air speed. The controls were really sloppy and hovering with much more than 1,000 pounds of fuel with two pilots and two air crewmen and a modicum of search and rescue load of equipment was out of the question. To pick someone up, we needed a clear field so we could do a rolling takeoff!

In the HH-60H, at 9,000 feet we could make 100 knots, but the controls were really sloppy. You could move the cyclic in a six inch circle and nothing happened. Like the H-3, hovering to pick someone up with more than half fuel could be a problem. Landing was preferred, particularly if there was some ground along which we could make a rolling take-off.

So, think about the guys flying in Afghanistan. They’re operating where it is hot during the summer and they’re flying at 12,000 – 14,000 feet all the time. They’re operating in a wartime environment dodging surface-to-air missiles, RPGs and bullets. This takes skill and practice flying the helicopter at the absolute limits of its performance envelope. My hat is off to these guys.

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HIFR Decisions

One of the joys of flying helicopters over the ocean is that one’s flight time can be extended indefinitely. Well not indefinitely becasue at some point one has to land, shut down and grease the main and tail rotors. You can pick up food via the hoist and we had relief tubes. For Number 2, there was a different process that we shan’t get into for the faint of heart.

The only thing that one can’t do while flying or hovering is grease the tail and main rotors. Theoretically,  one could land an H-3 in the water, shut down the rotors and ask a crew member grease the rotor head and then shimmy out the tail pylon and grease the tail rotor. This is not recommended for many reasons. The H-3 like many helicopters are top heavy and with the rotors turning, one can easily keep it upright. Shut them down and there is a high likelihood that the machine will capsize. If it does, one will get to spend time in a raft, assuming one got it out!

How much fuel that was on board the helicopter was the primary limiting factor. In the Navy, jet fuel is called JP-5 and each gallon weighs 6.8 pounds.

The H-3 carried 4,500 pounds (662 gallons) of the stuff. Some models could carry two external tanks on the forward ordnance stations that added another 750 pounds (110 gallons) of fuel. There were even SH-3Ds that had an extra internal “donut tank” around the hole through which the sonar dome passed that held another 1,000 pounds (147 gallons).*

Theoretically, in a D model, we could take off with 6,500 pounds of fuel internally and another 1,500 pounds externally for a grand total of 8,000 pounds. With this amount of fuel, the SH-3D could fly about eight hours!

As a practical matter, we normally took off with 4,500 pounds which was good enough for 4.5 hours, light off to engine flame out. I’ve flown an A and a G with the external tanks full and sometimes in the D’s we took off with 6,000 pounds or about six hours of fuel.

In flight at 90 – 110 knots, the rule of thumb number for fuel consumption was about 1,000 pounds an hour. In a forty foot hover with about 3,500 pounds of fuel on board, the two engines burned about 1,400 pounds per hour. Yeah, yeah, I know temperature and humidity have a lot to do with the actual fuel burn rates but more about that in another note of From the HAC’s Seat.

Often we would be asked to extend our time on station or fly somewhere that would require more fuel we had on board. When we were asked to stay out longer, we would take on fuel from a destroyer someplace in the vicinity of where we were or enroute to the new location.

Landing a helicopter on a the helo deck of a destroyer or cruiser usually means the captain has to turn the ship so the wind was either coming over the helo deck 30 degrees from the port or starboard side. This is easier asked than done in a tactical situation.

If we were chasing a submarine, the destroyer had its towed array out and this wasn’t possible because turning would change his sensor picture. How and why is well beyond the scope of this post.

And, because we’d “up dome” at the last possible minute, we’d often arrive at our potential source of fuel with the low fuel warning lights staring us in the face. The yellow light suggested we had at most 20 minutes of fuel left. FYI, the fuel totalizer systems, a.k.a. the gas gauges in both the H-2 and H-3 weren’t accurate at low fuel levels and the low fuel lights were a separate system. One cross checked the two and believed the lower number in terms of flight time.

The process of refueling from a non-aviation ship, i.e. a destroyer or supply ship without landing in the U.S. Navy is called HIFR. The acronym stands for Helicopter Inflight Refueling and most, if not all Allied navies it. I’ve taken on fuel from Australian, British, Canadian, Japanese, Dutch and Norwegian ships.

To HIFR, the helicopter lowers the hook at the end of the hoist and a sailor connects hose nozzle. The hose is pulled on board the helicopter as it slides off to a position about 20 feet from the side of the ship and about 40 feet off the water. In essence, the helicopter is flying formation with the ship at anywhere from just a few knots to 10 – 15 or more.

With the nozzle on board, the aircrewman takes a fuel sample in a large glass jar. If the fuel is clean, he then connects the hose nozzle to the receptacle and signals the ship to start pumping. If all goes right, in about five to 10 minutes, the helicopter has full internal tanks. The crewman disconnects the nozzle from the receptacle and the pilot flying slides back over the helo deck and the hose is lowered via the hoist.

Day or night, HIFR’ng is a relatively routine procedure. The pucker factor increases when the fuel sample wasn’t clean.

The first step was to take a second sample. If you arrived with the low fuel warning lights burning brightly, time was of the essence. Just to get into a hover, pick up the hose and take a sample takes five to seven minutes. If, the low fuel lights tell you that you only have 20 minutes of gas left, the pucker factor in the cockpit is rising with each passing minute. If one has to ditch, one wants to do it with the engines running!

It now is decision time. One choice, take on the “bad” gas and hope the debris doesn’t clog the helicopter’s fuel filters and shut down the engines which will force the helicopter to ditch. Choice two, ditch now before running out of fuel.

All the environmentalists will cringe when they read this. When we had “bad” samples, the air crewman would hold the nozzle over the side of the helicopter and squeeze the handle and pump out fuel for 20 – 30 seconds before he took a second sample. If it was clean, great. If not, we’re back to the decision as to whether or not we should take on bad fuel.

So why was there a chance of bad fuel? Well back in the old days when U.S. Navy ships burned a heavy black oil known as Navy Distillate #2, JP-5 was stored in separate tanks. And one of the oddities about JP-5 is that algae develops in the fuel when it is stored in a dark place and not mixed frequently. Bridge watches were briefed to stir the JP-5 tanks periodically. If a ship didn’t do this for a few days, the algae began to grow. After a week, there’s algae in the fuel. To clean the algae out, the ship has to empty the tank and flush it out with chemicals that kill the algae.

However, the younger generation has benefited because all the non-nuclear ships now use JP-5 as fuel. So what we take on from a ship during HIFR is the same fuel the ship burns and they keep it stirred. Problem solved.

As an HAC, I’ve HIFR’d hundreds of times. Ninety-nine percent of the time the fuel was clean. When the sample is bad, usually it is at night and in bad weather when we were really low on fuel. Looking back at those times, bad fuel samples and low fuel states just added to the fun and excitement.

* Data is taken from my SH-3D NATOPS dated 15 October 1974 with changes up to #41 and from my  SH-3A/G/HH-3A/UH-3A NATOPS dated 1 July 1974 with changes up to number 65.

 

 

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Whaddaya Mean No F%&g Ice!!!

If you flown much, then you’ve encountered airframe ice. Everyone does at some time in their flying careers. Some of us more than once. While those who fly jets, either as corporate, airline or military pilots, airframe icing is something one can quickly climb above. However, those of us who fly piston engined airplanes and helicopters, airframe ice can  a real problem.

Back when this story takes place in the late 1950s, weather forecasting wasn’t as accurate as it is today. We didn’t have satellites that could photograph the earth so we could track warm and cold fronts, hurricanes and typhoons.

This is another one of those stories from my father’s aviation career. We were living in St. John, Newfoundland which is on the east coast of the island. As I would find out later in my flying career, the meteorological conditions conducive to airframe ice forming are prevalent for about half the year.

I’m willing to bet that many of us have similar icing stories, but this is one I witnessed at age 11ish.

Here’s the link to the ANA Grandpaw Pettibone site where the story was first published. http://gpsana.org/?p=2755

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Flying One’s First Love

My father started in the U.S. Army Air Corps flight training program in 1940. Before that, he went through a CPT course to see if he was qualified. Throughout the course, he wanted to fly fighters and at the time, the P-38 Lightning was the hottest thing on the drawing boards. This was the machine he wanted to fly.

Unfortunately, the airplane had some problems during development which delayed production almost a year and a half. So, what did the Air Corps do with a group of pilots who were supposed to fly the P-38 and were already multi-engine trained? They sent them to A-20, B-25 and B-26 squadrons.

Fast forward to after the invasion of North Africa. My dad is in the 34th Bomb Squadron and P-38s were based on the same airfield and he desperately wanted to fly one. He managed to get a couple of hops in a P-38F and this is the story of his first one.

Again, the link will take you directly to the story as published on the ANA Grandpaw Pettibone chapter’s web site. Have fun reading… http://gpsana.org/?p=2742

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We’re Going Where?

This story is from World War II. Early in the war to support the invasion of North Africa, the U.S. Army Air Corps had to fly planes to Africa. The route for medium bombers such as the Martin B-26 Marauder was to fly south from the United States to the eastern tip of Brazil. Then, after a day or two, they’d launch to a small, 35 square mile island called Ascension, 1,400 nautical miles away at the extreme end of their range with extra fuel tanks. My father, Sy Liebman, a brand new co-pilot, was on the first group of airplanes that made this trek. At the time, they didn’t have GPS, inertial navigation systems, accurate charts on winds and they were flying an unproven airplane.

Every time my dad told me this story, I’d get chills up and down my back. Later, after I was a designated Naval Aviator and had some experience, I still wondered about launching on a flight in which when one reached where you thought Ascension should be and didn’t see the island, you had 50 minutes of gas left.

This appeared in the ANA Grandpaw Pettibone’s website. If you’re a pilot, reading this story should make you think and admire the guys who did this. I certainly do and it has nothing to do with one of them being my dad. Here’s the link – http://gpsana.org/?p=2738

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Pigeons to Rota

Pigeons in Naval Aviation parlance is bearing and distance to a place on this planet given by a radar controller either on a ship or airplane to another aircraft. So, if you were to receive a radio transmission that said, “Firebreather One Six, pigeons to Rota are 092 at 72 ,” you as the pilot would know that to go to Rota (Naval Air Station Rota, Spain) from your current position, you would fly a heading of 092 and after 72 miles of flying, you’d be there.

Well, here’s a story about that and as most Naval Aviators know, sometimes the pigeons are wrong. And, oh BTW, the H-2 in the photo was one of the helicopters in our detachment. Thanks to the Grandpaw Pettibone chapter of ANA, here’s the link to the story. http://gpsana.org/?p=2570

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Five Facts About JPJ You Probably Didn’t Know

John Paul Jones (JPJ) is one of the most storied naval officers of the 18th Century. He uttered the words “I have not yet begun to fight” in the battle in which his ship, Bonnehomme Richard outfought the Royal Navy’s Serapis on September 23rd, 1779.

Jones was also captain of Ranger when the frigate captured H.M.S. Drake on April 24th, 1777. Under his command, Ranger raided the Scottish town of Whitehaven which was a wake-up call to the British who realized that the rebels were not afraid to bring the war to English soil.

The often overused phrase “in harm’s way,” was written by JPJ in November 1778. Jones wrote the words in a letter to a friend in the French Government. JPJ was expressing his frustration because the French were slow in giving him a ship to command. The exact words are, “I wish to have no connection with a ship that does not sail fast; for I intend to go in harm’s way.” A few months later, he took Bonnehomme Richard to sea and the rest is history.

There is much more about JPJ that most don’t know. Here are just five:

Number 1. Before he joined the Continental Navy, Jones was accused of murder twice. The first was when he was master (and captain) of the merchant ship John, he had a man accused of mutiny flogged in 1770. The man later died from yellow fever but his wealthy family wanted Jones tried for murder.

The second time was when he was commander of the armed merchant ship Betsy. A dispute over pay with a crewmember by the name of Blackton became ugly and the men began fighting with swords. Blackton died and his family wanted Jones tried in an Admiralty Court in Scotland where they had influence. Although exonerated, fearing for his life, Jones fled to Fredricksburg, VA in 1774 leaving a considerable fortune behind.

Number 2. Why did Jones flee to Fredricksburg? His older brother settled there and had a plantation. When Jones arrived, his brother was dead and Jones sold the plantation. With an arrest warrant out from the Blackton affair, John Paul changed his name to John Paul Jones and moved to Philadelphia in 1775 where he offered his services to the Continental Congress.

Number 3. Fast forward to 1780. Jones is without a command and the Continental Congress is building America, a 74 gun ship of the line. Jones is assigned to supervise the final phases of its construction and then take ship of the line to sea. The Continental Congress decides to give America to the French to replace Magnifique which ran aground in Boston harbor leaving Jones without a command.

Number 4. The American Revolution ends and the Continental Congress dissolves the Continental Navy. Jones, while not broke, does not have an income. Catherine the Great of Russia offers him a commission and he serves from1787 – 1792. Jones retires from the Russian Navy and is living in Paris when in June 1792, he is appointed the U.S. Consul to Algiers, one of the Barbary states. Unfortunately, Jones dies of kidney failure and is buried in Paris.

Number five. In 1905, after years of searching, JPJ’s mummified remains are found in Paris and President Theodore Roosevelt asks the French government to allow the U.S. to bring Jones’ remains to the U.S. Today, they are enshrined in a tomb at the U.S. Naval Academy.

African Americans in the British and Continental Armies

The first African American who died for our freedom was Crispus Attucks, who was killed in 1770 at the Boston Massacre. This event was a precursor to the American Revolution which is where the rich history of African American serving in the U.S. military begins.

During the American Revolution, between 200,000 and 250,000 citizens in the Thirteen Colonies joined the Continental Army. This is very close to 10% of the 2.4 million individuals living in the colonies at the time. And of those who served, 9,000 were African-Americans, a.k.a. Black Patriots.

The reality is that the Continental Army rarely had more than 45,000 men at any one time because enlistments were typically for a year and death in combat, disease and desertion continually thinned the ranks. About four per cent of the soldiers in George Washington’s army were former slaves who averaged 4.5 years of service under the standard enlistment terms. This is two times the length of the average white soldier.

Twice the British used proclamations (see earlier post on August 30th, 2020 – Proclamations With Unintended Results) to try to entice slaves to flee their masters and join the British Army. Depending on the source, as many as 20,000 and made their way to the British held enclaves – New York, Savannah (after December 1778); Charleston (after May 1780) – and the British colony of Florida.

Those African-Americans who were inducted into the British Army were assigned to units called Black Pioneers. These men were organized into companies of 70 – 80 men and given construction, street cleaning and garbage collection tasks. Later in the war, because the British Army needed men, it started allowing former slaves to serve in line infantry units.

This is totally different than the Continental Army’s practice under George Washington. Throughout the war, former slaves served with honor and distinction side by side with whites in line infantry and artillery units.

What is interesting to note is that George Washington, a plantation and slave owner, wrote to a fellow Virginian and slave owner Colonel William Lee III in 1775 that “success would come to whichever side could arm the black men the fastest.” In 1776, the Second Continental Congress authorized the Continental Army to enlist and re-enlist any African-Americans who wished to serve.

In Rhode Island, the state raised the 1st Rhode Island Regiment which was a small unit never had more than about 225 men and only 140 were African-American. They fought with distinction and oddly enough, was the only segregated unit in the Continental Army. There is a monument to their heroism in Yorktown Heights, NY.

So what happened to the Black Loyalists who sided with the British. The British kept their word and the majority were evacuated. In July 1781, the British moved about 5,000 from Savannah to Jamaica, Bahamas, and other British held islands in the Caribbean. In December 1782, another group of 5,000 from Charleston were taken to the same destinations. Oddly enough, the same Loyalists who left Georgia and South Carolina bought plantations on those British Islands enslaved many of these former slaves.

Another large group of about 3,000 were moved to Halifax, Nova Scotia, 500 were taken to West Florida and a fourth group of about 200 were brought to England. Almost half of those brought to Canada decided to return to Africa and started Freetown in what is now Sierra Leone.

“Admiral” Benedict Arnold

Most Americans know Benedict Arnold as the traitor. Many may know him as the general who helped win at the battle of Saratoga. Fewer know his exploits as general leading an expedition to seize Quebec City in 1775. And, unless one is a reader of Naval History’s October 2020 issue, you probably don’t know Arnold, the naval officer.

The British saw 104 mile long Lake Champlain as the highway into upstate New York and the Hudson River. British generals believed that if they controlled the lake and the river, they could cleave Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Rhode Island from the other rebellious colonies and subjugate them. Then they could take on the Mid-Atlantic colonies – Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey and Virginia before pacifying Georgia, North and South Carolina.

The Americans saw Lake Champlain as the gateway to taking Canada. A two pronged invasion in the summer of 1775 via Lake Champlain Continental Army General Richard Montgomery took Montreal. He then moved up the St. Lawrence River to Quebec City where he met Arnold’s force that had marched north through the Maine woods from the Atlantic coast. The small British garrison in Quebec City under Major General Guy Carleton, disease (smallpox) and Mother Nature (Canadian winter) combined to defeat the Americans.

Arnold led the battered remnants back to Fort Ticonderoga. As they retreated and endured the bitter cold, they burned any boats they did not use.

Carleton planned to invade New York with a 13,000 man army, about a third of which were German mercenaries. Boats were designed and partially built before they were transported to Montreal and then down the Richelieu River to St. Johns where 600 shipwrights brought from England assembled Carleton’s fleet.

At the southern end of the lake, Arnold was also busy building a fleet. Other than wood to build the ships, he was short of everything – money, cannon, powder and most important, ship wrights. Yet, he used his knowledge of ships gained before the revolution to build a small fleet suited to the men under his command who were mostly soldiers, not experienced sailors. This dictated his ship design, training and tactics.

By the fall of 1776, the British started south. If he couldn’t defeat the British, Arnold’s had to delay their invasion until the following spring.

The running fight known as the Battle of Valcour Island took place on Lake Champlain. Arnold’s “navy” was heavily outnumbered and out gunned as they fought a delaying action. As their boats were disabled, they were beached and burned.

In one sense, the British were victorious. Arnold’s navy was no more but the Continental Army still held Fort Ticonderoga at the southern end of the lake which meant the British couldn’t pass. Rather than attempting a winter siege, Carleton decided to wait until the spring of 1777 to attack Fort Ticonderoga and invade New York.

During the winter, the British appointed Major General John Burgoyne, not Carleton was selected to lead the invasion of New York in the spring of 1777 that culminated in his defeat at Saratoga in October 1777.

Except for Saratoga, Arnold’s role in all three campaigns has been often overlooked and overshadowed by his treason. His leadership, energy and tactical acumen made him one of the most effective generals in the Continental Army. What started him down to the road to treason was the lack of recognition and his unhappiness that General Gates was given the credit for winning at Saratoga when in fact, Arnold’s initiative and leadership carried the day.