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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

A Modest Proposal

The fuss over the...umm, unavailability of services from the KDCA tower one evening last week seems to continue unabated. Oh, what to do? At present we appear to be headed toward assigning two controllers on the midnight shift whose primary responsibility will be to keep each other awake while nothing else happens for hours.

A look at the data for KDCA for last night (courtesy of FlightAware.com) is presumably typical, and revelatory. From 11:30 PM to 6:30 AM local time, there were a grand total of four arrivals:

AWI3650 CRJ2 KCMH Wed 06:23 EDT
AAL1900 B738 KDFW Wed 01:00 EDT
AAL1012 B738 KMIA Wed 00:33 EDT
AWI3789 CRJ2 KPHL Wed 00:16 EDT
DAL1438 A320 KATL Wed 00:16 EDT
AAL532  B738 KORD Tue 23:41 EDT
UAL628  A320 KORD Tue 23:36 EDT
Of course, with the curfew in effect there were no departures during that period. We have two valuable FAA employees in the tower to manage four airplanes. This makes no sense at all.

The solution is simple. Close the tower from midnight to 06:00 AM local time! It's not like they're doing anything useful. The control tower's job is to ensure sequencing and separation on the runway when traffic levels rise to a point where alternate means of separation are not acceptable. When the airport is busy, local control from the tower is essential. When the airport is deathly quiet, the tower is absolutely unnecessary.

I "grew up" in aviation flying into and out of Sikorsky Memorial Airport (KBDR) in Stratford, CT. KBDR is a towered airport and the tower is closed from 0300Z until 1130Z the next morning. Arriving aircraft are handled by New York Approach, and released to the Common Traffic Advisory Frequency (CTAF) where they announce their positions and intentions. It all works; nothing unusual about it.

Sarah and her friends at Potomac Consolidated TRACON (PCT, aka "Potomac Approach") are entirely capable of keeping KDCA out of trouble in the wee hours of the morning. PCT will clear one airplane at a time into the airport, and put any succeeding aircraft into a hold until the landing aircraft cancels IFR or reports itself on the ground. No problem!

From the pilot's perspective, operating into a non-towered airport in a low traffic environment is straightforward. In fact, as long as the situation is normal and expected, it may be safer than a towered field with a single sleepy controller.

To sum up:

  • The tower's only function is to provide separation on the runway.
  • In periods of very low traffic, TRACON is equipped to discharge that responsibility.
  • The pilots just won't care.
  • Ergo, closing the KDCA tower from 2400 to 0600 local time is perfectly reasonable.
"But, wait!" (someone cries), "What about SECURITY!!"

Oh, come on. Think about it. The control tower has no meaningful role to play in the security aspects of the DC airspace. By the time an aircraft is told to "contact tower", there is no security issue. The integrity of the SFRA, the FRZ and the several Prohibited areas are in the hands of Potomac Approach. And they deal with that nonsense as well as any organization could.

So, Scott, how about it? Would a recommendation to close the KDCA tower in the wee hours fly?

Sunday, March 27, 2011

A Belated Happy Birthday

In the previous post, I ought to have noted that the flight I was describing occurred on an auspicious anniversary. Exactly 34 years earlier, on 18 March 1977, Cessna production test pilot Jim Ballard took off from Wichita's Mid-Continent Airport for a 1.3 hour flight in a brand new 182. It was N631S's maiden flight.

For an airplane of a certain age, I think 31 Sierra is holding up rather well!


The weather forecast for tomorrow morning looks good for a flight from KVKX up to KBDR in Connecticut, departing about 12Z. The Terminal Area Forecasts look like this:

 
KDCA 271723Z 2718/2818 35008KT P6SM FEW050 BKN080 
     FM272100 32007KT P6SM SCT060 
     FM280000 VRB04KT P6SM SCT060 SCT250 
     FM280600 35008KT P6SM SCT150 BKN250 
     FM281600 32008G15KT P6SM SCT150
        
KBDR 271722Z 2718/2818 30012G18KT P6SM FEW250 
     FM272300 31009KT P6SM FEW250 
     FM281200 32012G18KT P6SM FEW250 
     FM281700 32014G22KT P6SM FEW250
The high clouds will make low temperatures aloft irrelevant and the gusty breezes at KBDR won't be too far off the centerline of Runway 29. FltPlan.com is telling me to expect 1 hour + 54 minutes en route.

...and from the "nobody-asked-me-but..." department: You have to wonder what it is that the non-flying public thinks control towers are for! After last week's admittedly unfortunate "sleepy controller" incident at KDCA, many of the press reports seemed amazed that two commercial flights were able somehow to land without "help" from the tower. And today's Detroit News published an article under this breathless headline: Some Michigan airports leave towers unmanned overnight. Amazing!

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Friday's flight from KBDR to KVKX was not a great example of the joy of aviation. For the first couple of hours of the 2.8 hour trip N631S and I got to experience strong headwinds and fairly continuous light turbulence. Nothing nasty, just tedious and uncomfortable.

The wind field forecast by XM Weather on the Garmin GPSmap 396 for 9,000 feet (left) showed about 50 knots pretty much right on the nose. At our assigned altitude of 8,000 feet it was a bit better, but I was still getting a ground speed about 45 knots less than N631S's true airspeed.

A few minutes after snapping that screenshot this conversation occurred on New York Approach's frequency:

FlightStar 36: Approach, FlightStar 36 would like to descend to 6,000 to get out of this scattered layer. It's pretty bumpy in here.
Approach: FlightStar 36, descend and maintain 6,000.
FlightStar 36: FlightStar 36, down to 6,000. Thanks.
N631S: Approach, Skylane 631 Sierra.
Approach: 631 Sierra, go ahead.
N631S: Any chance of 31 Sierra getting 6,000 too?
Approach: Noooo. Not 'til you get down near Solberg. Will that be what you're looking for?
N631S: Actually, 31 Sierra would like direct LANNA and a descent to 6,000 as soon as those will work for you.
Approach: Well, you can go direct LANNA from there. Join Victor 30 and I'll get lower for you when I can.
N631S: 31 Sierra direct LANNA. Thank you sir.

The early turn to the south toward LANNA intersection pointed me toward lower wind speeds, and after only about 10 miles Approach gave me a descent to 7,000 feet and a few miles later to 6,000 feet. At that altitude the ride was a bit better and I picked up 8 or 10 knots ground speed.


Later as we approached Potomac Airfield from the east shortly before sunset, the combination of sun glare and haze made visibility a real challenge. The final controller had descended me to 2,000 feet and turned me toward the airport, asking that I report the field in sight. I did so, and received clearance for the visual approach to KVKX with the usual option to cancel IFR in the air then, or to wait until I was on the ground.

Now, I just about always cancel in the air. But this time I didn't - not right away. If any of my friends from the Mt. Vernon Sector of PCT are reading this, I'd like to offer a few words of explanation.

When I reported the field in sight, I wasn't fibbing. I could see prominent features that I know are associated with the airport. But with the challenging visibility I didn't feel certain that I'd be able to keep the field in sight. Landing was not, as they say, assured so I chose to stay in the system.

But as I descended below the floor of the Class Bravo airspace, to about 1,400 feet, I passed below the base of the haze layer. In seconds, visibility about doubled. I went back over to Approach frequency and cancelled IFR.

And that's the answer, if you were thinking, "What the %#!! is he doing?"


When I left Connecticut on Friday I thought the weather forecast for Monday looked quite promising for a return flight. As of now (Sunday afternoon) it isn't so hot. A fast moving low pressure system will be sweeping across the northeast early on the first full day of spring, bringing clouds, light rain and low freezing levels. So I'll be with AmTrak tomorrow morning and will be happy when we finally get back to consistently warm weather aloft.



Thursday, March 17, 2011

Henry 3/15/1995 - 3/16/2011

Henry, a bichon frisé of unusual coloration, went West last evening. He was 16 years old. At the end, he left us peacefully, held in the arms of someone he loved and trusted.

Henry owed his non-standard fur color to a quirk of genetics but he had a full measure of the haughty attitude common to his breed. In his prime, he considered it to be his job to provide security services and intruder alerts for the Van Haste household and he pursued these tasks with zeal.

He had a long life by the standards of his species and it was full of canine satisfactions. His last years were of good quality and his final illness lasted just a few days. Henry is survived by his "pack", Rich, Pat and Frank, who are left now with a treasury of memories and a feeling of something missing from our lives that will persist for some time.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Warming of the Sky

'Tis the season. We who fly in the Northeast look forward each year to the time, in the progression of the seasons, when the normal IFR altitudes - from 5,000 feet MSL to 9,000 feet MSL - are, on a more than occasional basis, above freezing.

The clip at left is the NAM forecast for 00Z20110319 (a.k.a. 8 PM Friday the 18th). The cold front is draped across southern Connecticut and, I expect, showers and clouds can be expected. A month ago, contemplating a Friday afternoon departure from KBDR, I'd have already been making AMTRAK reservations.
But here, at left, is the evidence of the changing season. Dare we hope, the advent of Spring? It shows the locations of the isotherms at about 9,000 feet MSL at 00Z - the same time as the clip above.

As I'll be departing a few hours before the depicted time, I conclude that I'll be able to get up to 8,000 feet (in the shmoo or not, I don't care), where ATC wants me for the routing west from KBDR to Sparta thence Allentown thence Lancaster and ultimately home. I anticipate a nice IFR departure from Connecticut and then progressively improving conditions as I make my way to the south toward the DC area. And, if I can get wheels up early enough, perhaps a landing at KVKX before the fall night.

The coming of Spring is an aviator's delight!

Friday, March 11, 2011

Book Review: "Boyd: The Fighter Pilot Who Changed the Art of War" by Robert Coram

John R. Boyd was a genius. He was also profane, obnoxious, arrogant, uncouth, insensitive and monomaniacal. He repeatedly developed revolutionary insights that were transformative in their fields. He also put his wife and children through sheer hell.

He wore the uniform of the United States Air Force for twenty-four years and became, in some ways, the Air Force's worst nightmare. But he is most honored - almost venerated - by the United States Marine Corps. It is difficult to understand Boyd's work in all of its complexity and interdependency, and it is virtually impossible to understand the man. But in Boyd: The Fighter Pilot Who Changed the Art of War, Robert Coram makes a worthy effort and the result is a book that is essential for anyone seeking to understand the modern US military.

John Boyd was born in 1927 and grew up in Erie, PA, in a single parent home. His father died when John was very young, leaving his mother with very limited resources to care for five children including one with major health issues.

After high school he enlisted in the Army, and then attended the University of Iowa where he majored in economics and participated in the ROTC program. Upon graduation he entered the Air Force and was trained as a pilot. He went to Korea where he flew the F-86 Sabre for a few combat missions but he never had the chance there to engage the enemy in air-to-air combat.

But all agreed that John Boyd excelled as a fighter pilot. In the 1950's, USAF fighter squadrons sent their best pilots to the Fighter Weapons School (FWS) at Nellis AFB in Nevada. John Boyd went to FWS and found himself in his element.

After honing the skills of the best pilots, FWS would retain the best of the best as instructor pilots. John Boyd stayed at Nellis to instruct and soon the legend of "Forty-Second Boyd" was born. The legend began, as the author tells it, because many of the students arriving at Nellis were already quite impressed with themselves. It is an occasional pedagogic necessity to demonstrate to a student that he really isn't as good as he thinks he is. Boyd did it with flair.

The North American F-100 Super Sabre was an unforgiving airplane. John Boyd loved it. He loved pushing it into corners of its performance envelope that no sensible pilot sought out. He could make the "Hun" dance. He would bet any pilot $20 that he could let him set up at his six o'clock position within gun range, and that within 40 seconds of "Fight's on!", he'd have their positions reversed.

He never lost the bet.

While he was instructing at FWS and "pushing the envelope" in the F-100, Boyd was continually refining his understanding of aerial combat. He used his experiences in simulated air combat with the students to refine his theories and used his theoretical concepts to bring his techniques to the highest levels. When it was time for him to move on, he knew he'd have to write a manual on air-to-air tactics.

The author describes how Boyd, working on his own time, created his manual and then forced it, at considerable risk to his career, on an establishment that wanted only to shelve it. His Aerial Attack Study became a fighter pilot's bible. After its initial grudging acceptance of his work, the USAF finally realized its value and awarded him the Legion of Merit in recognition of the "first instance in the history of fighter aviation in which tactics have been reduced to an objective state." His commendation said that he was "undisputed master in the area of aerial combat."

The Aerial Attack Study was the sort of achievement that crowns a career. John Boyd was just getting started.

Boyd desperately wanted to make rigorous analyses of the combat capabilities of fighter aircraft. And he wanted those analyses to be mathematically bullet-proof and credible. To those ends, he needed further education in engineering so he manipulated the Air Force system to get it. He went to Georgia Tech for a second bachelor's degree, this time in Industrial Engineering. The author follows Boyd through this process, observing that he kept a focus on aircraft performance throughout his engineering course work. He was looking for a breakthrough in understanding and he found it in thermodynamics class.

Thermo came hard to Boyd...it's hard for most people. But when insight came on the interplay of energy and entropy in closed systems, it brought with it the tools he needed for his second major achievement. He called it "Energy-Maneuverability Theory."

Fighter pilots have always known that the "high ground" in aerial combat lay in having speed and/or altitude advantages over your opponent. John Boyd reduced that instinctive knowledge to rigorous mathematical formulae, derivable for any aircraft in any energy state, and most critically, to an ability to chart the comparative capabilities of any pair of aircraft. He gave pilots the tools needed to understand what parts of their airplane's performance envelope were advantageous against a likely adversary, and what portions were disadvantageous...or even suicidal.

Below, as an example, is an E-M diagram for a Mig-21. It is a simple matter to overlay upon it a comparable diagram for an F-4E Phantom II. From this, the F-4 driver can understand how to best engage an enemy flying the Mig-21. With this work, John Boyd saved lives.

Boyd took his early E-M work back to Eglin AFB and proceeded to plot the performance envelopes of every fighter aircraft in the USAF inventory, as well as those of adversary aircraft. He did this "off the side of his desk," as it was not an authorized project. It required immense amounts of computer time. John Boyd stole the data processing hours.

Author Robert Coram describes well, how word of Boyd's E-M work trickled through USAF networks until the General who ran Tactical Air Command (TAC) heard of it and asked to be "briefed." As it happens, the Briefing is an art form in the military and John Boyd was a master of the art. The TAC commander's staff gave him 20 minutes...and the briefing wound up consuming nearly two days. The TAC boss, Gen. Walt Sweeney, was convinced, and that led to then-Maj. John Boyd's ideas being heard throughout the Air Force.

These events occurred in the mid-1960's, as the Air Force's activities in Southeast Asia were heating up. F-4's and F-105's were encountering Mig-19's and Mig-21's and the outcomes were not gratifying. Boyd was summoned to the Pentagon where he used his E-M diagrams to show that those big, fast, unwieldy airplanes were dog meat in a turning fight with the more agile Mig's. It would be only a matter of time before John R. Boyd would be at the Pentagon, working the problem. It remained unclear whether the Air Force could deal with that.

The author chronicles an eventful decade, from the mid-1960's to 1975 when Boyd was instrumental in transforming the nature of the Air Force. With remarkable bureaucratic in-fighting skill backed up by technical credibility (derived from E-M analyses) he transformed the F-X program. That design, which began as a bloated, unwieldy multi-role F-111 successor, became the F-15 Eagle, the world's best air superiority fighter for three decades. Then, disillusioned by the "gold plating" of the F-15 design, he energized a "Lightweight Fighter" program that began as a bootleg design "study" and ultimately produced the F-16 Fighting Falcon. Along the way, his office produced the data that terminated the B-1A bomber program and provided critical support to the A-10 close support aircraft - another successful airplane the Air Force did not want.

Of course, John Boyd did not work alone. He had the ability to attract and inspire other crusaders. Boyd, it would seem, did not have friends. He had apostles; followers who referred to themselves as "the Acolytes". To enter Boyd's inner circle was a nearly spiritual act, a conversion. Men such as Pierre Sprey, Chuck Spinney and Col. Mike Wyly were powers in their own rights, but they orbited about John Boyd.

At the mid-point of this turbulent decade, Boyd left the Pentagon for a one year combat assignment. The war in Southeast Asia was still hot and he was assigned to Nakhon Phanom Royal Thai AFB (also known as NKP or occasionally, "Naked Fanny"). NKP was on the "dark" side of the war, home to special ops units, Combat Search and Rescue squadrons, Forward Air Controllers and classified Intelligence and Electronic Warfare groups.

Boyd came to NKP as Vice Commander of the project responsible for "bugging" the Ho Chi Minh trail. Later, he became NKP's Base Commander (the "landlord" for all resident units). Coram tells how he excelled in each role, garnering superb evaluations from his superiors.

While at NKP, Col. Boyd never missed an opportunity to travel to bases where the F-4 Phantom drivers worked, to brief them on the E-M data for their aircraft as compared to their likely adversaries, especially the Mig-21. A number of F-4 pilots owed their lives to these briefings.

John Boyd had a great deal of time to think while he was at NKP a half-world away from the Pentagon (and his family). Much of his thinking focused on ideation, creativity and theories of problem-solving. He formulated ideas that would provide the intellectual basis for the final act of his professional life. He began to see that destruction was a pre-requisite for creation.

Boyd returned to the Pentagon after his tour at NKP ended. He evaluated the B-1A program (fatally), and monitored the Lightweight Fighter program's prototype competitive fly-off that pitted the General Dynamics YF-16 against the Northrop YF-17. All of Boyd's E-M data and analysis seemed to indicate a close win for the YF-16.

He was right...the YF-16 won. But he was wrong...it wasn't close. Nowhere near it. The fighter pilots who flew both airplanes loved the YF-16 and considered it vastly superior to the YF-17. E-M theory did not account for this. The difference, it emerged, lay in the YF-16's agility, its quickness. It could transition from one maneuver to the next much faster than any other airplane. Boyd called these transitions "fast transients." He filed this away with his thinking on Creation and Destruction, for future use.

On 25 June 1975 the Secretary of the Air Force presented the service's most prestigious scientific award, the Harold Brown Award, to Col. John R. Boyd, acknowledging the role of E-M theory in the design of both the F-15 and the F-16. E-M gave the Air Force the means to "forge a superior fighter force in the decades ahead."

On 31 August 1975, after 24 years of service, Col. John R. Boyd retired. It was time for the third phase.

Almost a year to the day after his retirement, Boyd released
Destruction and Creation. An extraordinarily dense eight-or-so pages, it weaves concepts from Gödel and Heisenberg with the Second Law of Thermodynamics to offer a theoretical underpinning for the analysis/synthesis sequence of creativity. The paper is the only formal written document John Boyd ever created aside from Air Force technical publications. It is the starting point for all of his subsequent work.

With the issuance of "Creation and Destruction," Boyd set about understanding the "fast transients" phenomenon in its context. He went back to his beginnings, to the F-86 Sabre in Korea. It was easy to argue that the Mig-15 was the better airplane. E-M analysis suggested that they were closely matched. So why did the Sabre rack up a 14:1 kill ratio? Were our pilots really that much better? Boyd focused on the fact that the F-86 had hydraulically actuated flight controls while the Mig relied on cables and bell cranks. As a result, the Sabre could be flown with a much higher maneuvering tempo. It was agile, it was quick, and it was deadly. The Sabre pilot was quickly one or two steps ahead of the Mig pilot. He was operating inside the Mig pilot's time scale. (Sadly, 15 years later in the case of the F-4 and F-105 vs. the Mig-21, the situation was reversed.)

Boyd looked for other historic examples where operational tempo was decisive. He found Heinz Guderian's blitzkrieg attacks in 1940 and the Israeli commandos' raid at Entebbe to be instructive. He absorbed and built on Sun Tzu's Art of War and he read and found fault with Clausewitz.

He distilled all of this into a masterful briefing he called Patterns of Conflict.

The briefing, Boyd's Meisterstück, introduces us to the concept of the OODA Loop. This is John Boyd's best known legacy and it is, unfortunately, often mis-interpreted. OODA is an acronym for "Observe - Orient - Decide - Act." Every operator must cycle through an OODA loop, and the victor will be the one who can function inside the time-scale of his opponent's OODA loop. Many conclude that you have to be faster than your opponent. That is simplistic. In fact, Boyd teaches that you must be more "intellectually agile" than your adversary. (N.B.: The present writer's recent reading of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant's Personal Memoirs gave the distinct impression that Grant "got it", a century before John Boyd codified it.)

Boyd had expanded his world-view to include ground warfare. This did not particularly interest the Air Force, as every academic study of the theories of warfare concluded that air power was subordinate to and properly in the service of ground forces. Boyd was in need of a new audience. He got one.

In 1980, Lt. Col. Mike Wyly invited Col. John Boyd to brief his class at the USMC's Amphibious Warfare School in Quantico, VA. And the rest, as they say, is history. Author Coram describes how Boyd's theories of warfare propagated from this starting point, enveloping the Marine Corps and penetrating the Army. A decade later when Gulf War I was fought, John Boyd's ideas were dominant. Describing how the coalition forces had completely befuddled the Iraqi army, Marine BGen. Richard Neal said "We kind of got inside his decision cycle."

John Boyd had won his war.

Col. John R. Boyd, USAF (Ret'd) succumbed to cancer and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery. At his memorial service on 20 March 1997 the Air force was under-represented. The Marines were present in force. A Marine Colonel placed the Eagle, Globe and Anchor next to the urn containing John Boyd's ashes. That, a remarkable act in the context of Corps tradition, says it all.

How do you sum up John Boyd? Author Robert Coram quotes his advice to a junior officer - one of the very, very few quotable passages that he ever produced - as follows:

"Tiger, one day you will come to a fork in the road. And you're going to have to make a decision about which direction you want to go. If you go that way you can be somebody. You will have to make compromises and you will have to turn your back on your friends. But you will be a member of the club and you will get promoted and you will get good assignments. Or you can go that way and you can do something - something for your country and for your Air Force and for yourself. If you decide you want to do something, you may not get promoted and you may not get the good assignments and you certainly will not be a favorite of your superiors. But you won't have to compromise yourself. You will be true to your friends and to yourself. And your work might make a difference.

To be somebody or to do something. In life there is often a roll call. That's when you will have to make a decision. To be or to do. Which way will you go?"

Col. John R. Boyd chose to do something and we are eternally in his debt.

Here is a video recording of John Boyd doing Q&A at the end of a brief. The video is of poor quality but the audio is good. The aggregate length of the four videos is 32:23.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Under the Weather

Both of us; me and N631S, actually. For me it's been a couple of days of "flu-like symptoms" (much better now, thanks for asking). For the airplane, it's been a bit of an electrical problem.

Last Friday the nice folks at Three Wing Flying Services at KBDR hooked up the pre-heater in a timely manner and when I got to the airplane everything was warm and set to start. On reflection, perhaps the rate at which the starter turned the prop was a bit anemic but the TCM O-470U engine always wants to run so we were soon on our way toward home in the DC area.

The flight was long (2.8 hours) but uneventful. The very strong headwinds from the west-southwest caused a ground-speed penalty but no other problems. ATC did its usual sterling job and the landing at KVKX was routine. I taxied to the gas pumps and shut down.

After topping off the tanks, I hopped back in to taxi around to the hangar and was quite surprised when the engine would not start. After two attempts during which the starter couldn't get the engine over top dead-center I checked the voltmeter. It said 9.7. That isn't enough. Fortunately there was another pilot on the field (often on Friday evening I'm the only one there) and he helped me to pull N631S clear of the gas pumps and back onto the adjacent grass.

Sunday morning I returned to KVKX and in about 15 minutes found someone with a jumper cable having the appropriate Cessna-style connector; he was also happy to help me get the airplane started. After fully briefing what we were about to do (propellers are DANGEROUS!), we hooked up the airplane via the external power connector to the car and got the engine started. My friend disconnected the cable and I taxied to the hangar and shut down. First problem solved.

Then I drove the short distance to Hyde Field (W32), to see if Dan Fragassi of Clinton Aero Maintenance was in his shop - he seems to nearly always be there. (Regular visitors here may recall having been introduced (in this post) to Dan back in July of last year when he fixed a brake problem on N631S. I recommend him highly.)

He was there, I described for him the symptoms, and he said he'd get over to KVKX by Tuesday to have a look. So I went home and came down with the flu.

Tuesday Dan called to tell me that it appeared to be time for a new alternator. He had tightened the alternator belt, bypassed the voltage regulator and still got just 13 volts from unit - not the 14.3 to 14.5 that would be normal. The output was sufficient to operate the equipment but not enough to push electrons back into the battery, especially given the losses due to the rather long cable run from the engine compartment back to the battery box aft of the luggage compartment.

I told Dan to go ahead and get N631S a rebuilt alternator (he says about $315.00 plus labor). He expects to have it installed by Saturday, so if weather allows, a Monday morning flight to Connecticut can be in the cards.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Book Review: "In My Sights: The Memoir of a P-40 Ace" by James B. Morehead

A while ago I read the memoir of another WWII aviator, a man widely regarded as one of the great heroic pilots of that war. He is indisputably a superb pilot, a ferocious warrior and a hero. I'm glad to have read his story, but I came away from his book unsettled.

My problem with that book was that the prose is too good. Too polished, too artful, too cool. The stories are true without any doubt but the voice in which they're told seems too much that of the skilled co-author (who the cover says the book was written "with") and not enough the voice of the man who put his life on the line in those war-torn skies.

Out of immense respect, I refrained from writing a review that would have been less than positive. I have no such problem with Col. Jim Morehead's "In My Sights."

The author grew up the hard way on a depression-era Oklahoma farm and escaped to the Army Air Corps' Air Cadet program. He was commissioned in 1940 and assigned to fly fighters - specifically the Curtiss P-40 Warhawk. Because he was recovering from injuries sustained in an accident, he missed his unit's transfer to the Philippines - and hence probable capture and likely death. Instead, he wound up flying his P-40 with the 17th Pursuit Squadron (Provisional) on Java in the Dutch East Indies.

In the darkest days of the Pacific war, early 1942, the ragtag 17th fought with unbelievable bravery to slow the Japanese juggernaut. They bought time needed to organize the defense of Australia, and for many of Jim's buddies the price was their lives.

"Whereas youth is normally optimistic about fate, forever feeling that if bad things happen, they will never happen to me, now there was a reversal. Unlike any combat circumstance I was ever exposed to, it switched. The attitude changed to: "I am a goner, the next one lost will be me, I know it will be me." Many times I heard "We're just flying tow targets. We are all on suicide missions!" Such conclusions were only logical. Anyone's arithmetic can figure out how many missions you are likely to last if ten go out and only five come back. Where an alert shack normally is boisterous with laughter and wisecracks, silent anxiety was the mood in those days."

But while Jim Morehead did not love or trust the P-40's that took him in harm's way, he did have a sense the airplane's merits:

"Bad as the P-40 ... and the P-39 were, through God's deliverence they were planes a greenhorn could survive in if he was extremely alert and made the proper moves in time."
Through luck and native talent and a desperate understanding of how to exploit the obsolescent Curtiss fighter's few virtues, Jim Morehead survived long enough to build skill and experience.

The war in the Pacific was crueler than the war in Europe, with quarter neither asked nor given. It does not require too close a reading to discern that Jim Morehead's hatred for the Japanese enemy burned with a white-hot fury, and that more than a half-century later the embers of that fury still emit an angry glow:

"I had seen the movie The Rape of China just before Pearl Harbor. I had seen, read of, and heard of the details of Pearl Harbor. We heard the firsthand accounts of the murderous Japanese forces from our personal friends who had been exposed to them.

I was eager to employ my own skills against the brutal forces who conducted themselves like animals."

The young P-40 pilots did their best to survive and learn. Their efforts were not enough to keep the Japanese from taking Java, and the survivors retreated to Australia. But that was their last retreat. The "end of the beginning" may have come on 25 April 1942 when the author, leading a flight of four veteran P-40 pilots, participated in a pivotal air action against a force of Japanese fighters and bombers. His description of the battle is gripping and his summary of the result is satisfying:

"It seems we shot down eight bombers and three fighters. ... This seems to have been the first smashing victory over the Japanese air forces and the Zero, and over the Japanese armed forces. It demonstrated that the awe was not so awesome - that they could be defeated even by a bunch of gringo greenhorns.

For my action I received a Distinguished Service Cross, the second such medal awarded (to me)."

This action, widely reported in the press back home, was soon followed by the Battle of the Coral Sea and the Battle of Midway. The Japanese Empire had reached its high-water mark. Its focus shifted away from Australia to the Solomon Islands and after Guadalcanal, the long bloody retrenchment began.

After a time spent training newly arrived pilots to survive in combat in the Pacific, Jim Morehead was sent back home for a well-earned respite:

"I was placed on thirty days leave after returning from the Southwest Pacific theater. I returned home the local hero as a result of earning two Distinguished Service Crosses, the Silver Star, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, the personal commendation of General Marshall, and the attention of the national networks and newspapers. What was more interesting was that I seemed to be a hero among the female population."

After his leave was up, Morehead (now a Major) became a squadron commander in a state-side replacement training group. And he met a new love - the Lockheed P-38 Lightning. As skeptical as he was of the Curtiss P-40, he was equally enthusiastic about the big Lockheed twin.

"Other pilots who flew P-51's felt the P-51 was superior. ... I have several hundred hours in a P-51, and I would choose to fly a P-38 in a dogfight between the two, any day."

After a year on the home front, he went to Europe to command a P-38 squadron in Foggia, Italy. Later, he became Group Operations Officer. He and his compatriots flew in intensive combat against the Luftwaffe and he recounts many stories of valor and of tragedy. The part of the book covering the author's time in the European Theater is a tale well told, yet may feel anti-climactic when compared with the time in Java.

After the war, the author made the transition to jet fighters. He tells of flying P-80's and F-86's and of combat missions in Korea in F-84's.

Col. Jim Morehead retired from the U.S. Air Force in the 1960's and embarked on a successful career in real estate development. Today, at 94 years of age, he resides in Petaluma, CA. The city recently proclaimed February 2nd, 2011 as "Col. James B. Morehead Day."

Update: Col. James B. Morehead has Gone West, on 11 March 2012 at age 95.

Monday, February 7, 2011

It's Always Something

The weather was promising for a flight this morning from Potomac Airfield (KVKX) back to Bridgeport (KBDR). Cold, but promising. So, having filed my IFR flight plan last evening, I got up fairly early and headed over to the airport.

When I arrived (about 0645 local time) the air temperature was 29F. The field was quiet; I had the place to myself. I drove around the hangar row to N631S's home and dug out the keys. Then I discovered that the key wouldn't go into the lock. The lock, it seemed, was frozen.

The hangar door is secured with a long-hasp Master padlock and during the damp weekend some moisture had gotten into the body of the lock. An awkward situation! I needed a way to apply heat to the lock. (As I'm a non-smoker, I didn't have either matches or a lighter. Where's Dad's Zippo when you need it?)

I walked down to the FBO office to seek inspiration and wandered over to the storage closet where the cleaning supplies are kept. Hmm...vacuum cleaner. Flexible hose. Hose can convey heat but where to get heat? Aha! Car exhaust! So I carried the vacuum cleaner hose back to the hangar, put one end over the outlet of the car's exhaust pipe and started the engine. A few minutes of holding the open end of the hose directly under the frozen lock did the deed. A bit of water dripped out and the key slid into place and turned. N631S was free!

The subsequent flight was uneventful and quick, with a tailwind of about 15 knots. I followed the old rule, "Fly fast in a headwind, slow in a tailwind." At 7,000 feet the wide-open throttle gave me 21 inches of manifold pressure and I pulled the RPM down to 2,150 and leaned the fuel flow to 9.6 GPH. I had about 145 knots ground speed yielding more than 15 nautical miles per gallon (17.3 statute MPG).

At left, a Cathay Boeing 777, just off KJFK Runway 31L and crossing ahead of me and 1,000 feet below. Traffic of that size is easy to spot!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Recommended Reading

May I beg your indulgence as I suggest a couple of recent essays that I've found thought provoking?

First, appearing at the Slate on-line magazine web site, is an article by the novelist Neal Stephenson, noted for such works as Cryptonomicon (marvelous!) and Anathem (merely quite good).

The piece, Space Stasis: What the strange persistence of rockets can teach us about innovation, explores the phenomena of path dependence and lock-in as they affect technological progress.

Path dependence refers to the way in which certain environmental factors, each in itself perhaps improbable, are nonetheless essential for a technology to have evolved to its present state. The phenomenon of lock-in is related. It refers to historical factors acting to impose rigid constraints on current implementations of a technology. One familiar illustration is the thesis that purports to show how the modern standard railroad gage is derived from the track width of Roman chariot wheels.

Stephenson's essay will give you a new way to think about space transportation issues, and a new perspective on the evolutionary potential of any incumbent technology. (For example, how have path dependence and lock-in affected transport-category aircraft?) I commend it to you. And after you've read it, you probably ought to read The Fountains of Paradise by the late Sir Arthur C. Clarke for a counterpoint.


The second essay I'd like to recommend appears as a guest post at Jim Fallows' blog. It's called Three Dimensional Visionaries and is written by Dr. Bruce J. Holmes, a retired NASA strategist (focused on the first "A", aeronautics) and current advocate for advancing aeronautical technologies.

In the piece, Dr. Holmes looks as far back as the time of Thomas Jefferson to discern the role of our national administrations in formulating strategic visions for what he calls the "mobility mandate" in our country. He notes that some administrations have been visionary while others have been caretakers - and he makes a passionate case for the need to return to visionary thinking. A part of his argument refers to the need to break out of the present state of technical path dependence and lock-in by empowering industry to exploit paradigm-shifting technologies.

Bruce Holmes' essay is a fine complement to Neal Stephenson's. Together they help to define an aspect of our problem and to illuminate a possible way forward.

Please read them both.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

A Break in the Weather

January was thoroughly unpleasant, and unproductive from an aviation viewpoint. N631S and I flew from the DC area to Connecticut on 3 January and then the airplane stayed parked for four weeks. One of the consequences of this hiatus was that my IFR currency lapsed. I no longer could claim the required six instrument approaches in the preceding six months. But with the weather looking good for this Friday (4 February) I needed to remedy the situation.
As mentioned in this post, the friendly folks at Volo Aviation had pulled N631S in out of the storm for the most recent weather event. I asked Andrew Post, a great young CFII at Three Wing Flying Services, to meet me there for an evening flight for which I had three objectives. First and foremost, to get me current so I could fly IFR legally the next day. Next, to shake off some of the cobwebs that would have accumulated on my flying during a four week layoff. And finally, to assure myself that N631S had come through the down period none the worse for wear.

With the cooperation of New York Approach we flew the RNAV 36 at Oxford (KOXC) and the RNAV 29 back at KBDR to a full stop. Mission accomplished in 0.8 hour. I was a little ragged on the first approach but the second was better. N631S performed superbly. Andrew was a delight to fly with and I expect I'll do so again. On landing we taxied to the Three Wing ramp and the line staff plugged in the Tanis heater to keep N631S warm overnight.

There was dominating high-pressure, and clear skies over most of the northeast yesterday so I anticipated an easy flight but a long one. The winds opposing the westbound parts of the flight would be impressive. FltPlan.com was telling me to expect 2:42 en route. That proved to be almost exactly correct.

The graphic below, from the FlightAware.com site, traces speed and altitude for the flight. You can see that during climb (at the left of the figure) speed over the ground drops to about 40 knots. N631S and I were climbing at an indicated airspeed of 90 knots. For much of the flight the ground speed hovered around 100 knots while true airspeed was about 140 knots.

But the flight, while long, was enjoyable. Flight visibility was excellent. At one point, soon after crossing the Hudson, I looked off to the south and could see the runways at Teterboro (KTEB) and Newark (KEWR) clearly. I asked the Garmin GNS-530 how far away KEWR was and it said 27.5 nautical miles. Soon (around 2130Z) a very nice sunset presented itself over Pennsylvania. (The bright spot on the ground in the picture above left is a ski area southwest of Allentown.) Darkness flowed over the landscape and the lights on the ground provided cheery company.

N631S and I were handed off by New York to Allentown and then to Harrisburg Approach and finally to Potomac Consolidated TRACON (PCT). Usually Harrisburg asks me to descend to 6,000 feet but in this case I was still at 8,000. The first Potomac controller issued the expected route change ("After Baltimore, direct Nottingham, thence direct to destination") and soon after, the expected altitude change. But with a twist:

PCT: "Skylane 31 Sierra, descend and maintain 6,000."
Me: "31 Sierra, down to six."
PCT: "Let's make it pilot's discretion descend to 6,000."
Me: "OK, PD down to 6...I believe I'll stay at 8 for a while."

This was a bit different. The controller had told me that he'd like me to descend to 6,000 feet but was leaving the timing of that descent up to me. I knew that they wanted me at 6,000 feet over Baltimore but the situation was ambiguous. When in doubt, request clarification:

Me: "Approach, Skylane 31 Sierra, when do you need me at 6?"
PCT: "31 Sierra, tell you what, cross 10 miles northwest of Baltimore at 6,000."
Me: "OK, 31 Sierra will cross 10 northwest of Baltimore at 6."

Woo-hoo! A crossing restriction! That was the first one of those I'd gotten in the 900 odd hours flown since getting my Instrument Rating. Just like the Big Guys!

Of course, if that restriction was issued to Cap'n Dave and Fi-Fi (the Electric Jet), he'd just punch a few buttons on his FMS and the computers would handle everything. I, however, needed to figure out when to start down to ensure I'd be at the specified altitude crossing the specified fix.

The GNS-530 has a vertical navigation (VNAV) function, but I don't normally use it and wasn't sure that it could deal with a descent over distance that involves a change in ground-speed. And this wasn't the time to pull out the manual.

My customary procedure for en route descents is to pitch the airplane down and accelerate to the top of the green arc (for the Skylane, 142 knots indicated airspeed (KIAS)). Soon thereafter, the descent rate settles down to about 500 feet per minute. I needed to lose 2,000 feet of altitude so that would take four minutes. The question was, how many miles would I cover in those four minutes?

The top of the green arc was about 15 knots faster than my current indicated airspeed, and the GNS-530 said that my ground-speed was 128 knots. So in the descent, my ground-speed ought to rise to about 143 knots. That's about 2-1/3 nautical miles per minute. Four minutes would eat up a bit over nine miles. A glance at the GPS display told me I was 35 miles from Baltimore. So, I could motor on at 8,000 until I was 20 miles out, then initiate the descent and level off at 6,000 feet just prior to the 10 mile mark.

Well I wasn't about to cut it that close. I waited until I was 25 miles out and called approach:

Me: "Approach, Skylane 631 Sierra out of 8 for 6."
PCT: "31 Sierra, roger."

The descent scenario played out exactly as expected. N631S and I leveled off at 6,000 feet just about 16 miles from BAL. Simple but satisfying.

To provide a nice ending for the evening, my friend Sarah was my final controller as I approached KVKX. I introduced you to Sarah in the post describing my recent visit to PCT. We exchanged pleasantries (without cluttering up the frequency) and I do not think I embarrassed myself. And, by the way, the lady gives good vectors!

The landing was uneventful, and occurred well before the arrival of today's rain event (returns from which are visible to the south in the FlightAware.com image above). As I type this N631S is snug in the hangar at Potomac Airfield. The break in the winter weather has been most welcome; it was really good to get into the air again.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

A Nice Surprise

Last evening after work I went over to KBDR to check on N631S and to see what would be needed to liberate the airplane from the aftermath of the recent winter weather. It was rather a shock to walk onto the apron and find that the airplane was gone. As in, not where I left it. Gee, it was there last Friday...

I thought first that perhaps the folks at Three Wing, from whom I rent the tiedown, had moved it to another location but it wasn't anywhere on their ramp, nor in either of their hangars. Then a thought occurred to me. I walked down the line to Volo Aviation's big hangar and looked in the window. There, snug and warm in a corner among the Gulfstreams and Lears, sat N631S!

Although I rent my tiedown from Three Wing, it is actually closer to Volo's ramp. When the storm was approaching they pulled the big iron inside and, according to their line person, "We couldn't see leaving you out there in the weather so we pulled yours in too."

Now, I am not a customer of Volo Aviation. They didn't need to trouble themselves about N631S. There's been no hint that they want to be compensated. They were just being good neighbors on the airport. So, herewith, a warm "Thanks, guys!" to the staff and management of Volo's KBDR operation. I owe ya' one.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

1943 Howard DGA-15

This morning I stopped off at KBDR to check up on N631S. While there I visited my friends at Three Wing Flying Services and saw this beautiful machine in their hangar for some avionics work.

The aircraft is a 1943 Howard DGA-15 powered by a 450 horsepower Pratt & Whitney R-985 radial engine. The engine's crankcase is painted the same yellow as the aircraft and the push-rod tubes are chrome plated. Very nice. At the age of 67 the old girl is looking good.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Aviation Trivia of the Day

Attention is invited to an addition to the list of blogs maintained in the sidebar: Aviation Trivia of the Day. It is curated by J.P. Santiago who describes himself as, among other worthy things, an "Aviation Über Geek."

The blog is a compendium of delightful arcana and obscurities from the world of aviation. I expect it to be a substantial time-sink for me as I spelunk through its archives. If you, too, are an "aviation geek", I believe that you'll enjoy repeated visits.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

(More) (Further) Thoughts on the ELT

Back in June of last year I discussed here an order promulgated by the FCC that would, with effect 60 days after publication in the Federal Register:

"...prohibit further certification, manufacture, importation, sale or use of 121.5 MHz ELTs."

This order caused a kerfuffle in the GA community, since the withdrawal of "approval" from 121.5 MHz ELT's would effectively place any aircraft using them in violation of 14CFR91 Subpart C Section 91.207.

Now, half a year later, the FCC has thought better of the whole thing. The Commission has issued a stay of the portion of its earlier order relating to 121.5 MHz ELT's.

The Commission carefully points out that:

"The FCC coordinated the Third Report and Order with NTIA (National Telecommunications and Information Administration) in November 2009. NTIA provided the draft version of the Third Report and Order to those agencies that participate in the IRAC (Interdepartment Radio Advisory Committee), including the FAA. The FAA raised no issues or objections to the portion pertaining to 121.5 MHz ELTs." (Emphasis added)

Of course, upon release of the Order, the FAA moved out smartly in pursuit of the horse that was now well out of the barn:

"On July 14, 2010, the (NTIA) forwarded to the Commission a request from the FAA that the Commission not implement this rule amendment. The FAA believes that the current supply of 406 MHz ELTs is not sufficient to replace all existing 121.5 MHz ELTs in the short term, so, given that most General Aviation aircraft are required to carry ELTs, a prohibition on 121.5 MHz ELTs would effectively ground most such aircraft. The FAA further asserts that 121.5 MHz ELTs can continue to provide a beneficial means of locating missing aircraft even without satellite monitoring of frequency 121.5 MHz, because the frequency is still monitored by the search and rescue community, including the Civil Air Patrol. It also is concerned about the cost of equipping aircraft with 406 MHz ELTs."

After a suitable period of bureaucratic soul-searching, the Commission has now stated that:

"Under these circumstances, we believe it would be in the public interest to further consider what actions the Commission should take in light of the termination of satellite monitoring of frequency 121.5 MHz, with the benefit of an augmented record. Toward that end, we will stay that portion of the Third Report and Order prohibiting the certification, manufacture, importation, sale or use of 121.5 MHz ELTs. No action will be taken regarding 121.5 MHz ELTs until further notice, following an additional opportunity for interested parties to comment."

Y'all can relax now. Let us hope with fervor that the now-ever-vigilant FAA can (via the IRAC and the NTIA) keep the FCC from doing anything rash with regard to ELT's.