"Jim…I've got a problem"
With the cool metal handle of the throttle seated firmly against the palm of my left hand, I slowly force it to the stop. The aircraft accelerates as the engine obeys my command for full power. Tightening my grip on the control stick, I pull the aircraft into a vertical maneuver looking left as the wing moves to a perpendicular angle against the horizon. Glancing back at the large round indicator in the center of my instrument panel, I wait for the airspeed pointer to register zero. When the aircraft no longer has any forward momentum, I "kick" left rudder to force the nose back over toward the ground. Pulling the throttle back to idle, I am now pointed straight down watching the trees get bigger in my windscreen as I am reclaimed by earth's gravitational grip. Drawing the control stick back and hard to the right, I change my vertical decent into a tight spiraling dive. As I feel the g-forces push me deeper into the seat I level the aircraft and marvel at the exhilaration that flight brings to my soul.
Again, I pull the nose up, ever so slightly, and then slam the stick over hard to the right. As soon as the plane starts to roll I feel a sickening SNAP and the control stick goes loose in my hand.
***
It was one of the prettiest days I have seen here in a long time. The Georgia summer haze had given way to a curtain of beautiful blue sky that filtered brilliant warm sunlight across the area. Visibility was clear and unlimited with light northern winds. It was the perfect day to fly.
I opened the hangar door and pulled my plane out into the afternoon sun. It's not a very big plane. In fact it's quite small. I do not sit inside a nice quiet cabin. I sit in an open cockpit getting the full burst of noise, wind and bugs that come blasting through the prop. My airplane wasn't intended for speed, distance or to serve a noble purpose. Due to the grim necessities of war, it was designed over ninety years ago to simply attack and destroy enemy aircraft. But I built mine four years ago, and solely for fun.
Of WWI design, it does not have any of the luxuries of modern day aircraft. It simply has an engine to move it, wings to lift it, and a stick to guide it. It doesn't have the aluminum skin that most aircraft have. Both the wings and fuselage are covered with a thin layer of cloth that is simply used to provide lift and save weight. While flying this plane the pilot is exposed to all of nature's elements and is protected by a surrounding fabric that hardly amounts to a simple tee-shirt.
I perform my pre-flight inspection with a little less vigor than I used to. After 300 plus hours of trouble free flight I have gotten a little lax on my inspections. Items that used to be visually scrutinized now tend to get a mere glance. Complacency and human factors are just a reality of life, at least in my life, and if the mistakes we make don't kill us… Well, you know the rest.
My pre-flight starts at the forward left side of the aircraft as I check the wing mount bolts for presence and security. Moving toward the wing tip, I run my hand along the cool leading edge of the wing, feeling the thin layer of silver painted cloth for any damage as I go. I stop briefly at the wing cables to look for broken strands and loose mounts. I then check my ailerons, the small flap looking structures on the wing that provide a roll control to the airplane. They are connected to the control stick and as I move the stick left and right the plane will roll in the desired direction.
As I move down the fuselage and tail I check for torn fabric as well as loose and worn attachments for the elevator and rudder. The elevator is also controlled by the stick, and as is fitting to its name, directs the up and down motion of my aircraft as I move it forward or aft. Once I complete the left side of the plane the process is repeated for the right.
Sitting inside the plane my preflight inspection continues with the instruments and controls. I set the required instruments and move the control stick in all directions checking for freedom of movement and proper deflection of the elevator and ailerons. The control stick is mounted to a long torque rod that sits under my seat. It is attached by two heavy brackets and being that I never imagined that the control stick could fail, I don't visually check the brackets.
Once satisfied that the plane is in sound mechanical order, I slip on my leather flying helmet and goggles looking much like Snoopy does before he takes to the air atop his trusty fighting doghouse. I then fastened my safety harness, plug in my radio headset and prime the engine with fuel. I flip on the two ignition switches and clear the prop for starting. Reaching to the throttle with my left hand and thumbing the starter switch with my right, the engine comes to life belching and coughing smoke as it clears to an idle. Soon I am racing down the runway doomed to a fate of fear and uncertainty.
***
I couldn't hear the break because of the wind noise rushing around me, but I can certainly feel it. The plane started its roll to the right and then abruptly stopped. The stick, usually hard to move with the load of wind pressure streaming across the ailerons, was now as limp as the proverbial dish rag. The aircraft is stuck in a slight right roll and will not respond. I have just suffered a pilot's worst nightmare. I've lost control of my airplane.
I shove the stick as far right as I can until it is pressing hard against my inner thigh. The aircraft refuses to respond. I instinctively move it left and, at a certain point along the way, the stick finds resistance and the plane banks to the left. With some excitement I move the stick right, and again, the airplane does not respond. I am now in a left hand turn and can not level the airplane. I can maintain altitude but I have no directional control.
I keyed the mike switch and said. "Jim, I've got a problem."
"What's wrong?" He quickly answers.
"I just lost my ailerons."
"No way."
"Yeah, it won't roll right."
"Can you fly it back?"
"I don't' know. I'm working on it."
Jim is my wingman. We often fly together. Whenever I am airborne it's a sure bet that Jim is flying somewhere nearby.
I was performing my maneuvers while waiting for Jim arrive. We were planning to fly in formation to another airstrip and I was simply enjoying myself while I waited for him to catch up. But enjoyment was quickly leaving my system.
I was now locked in an uncontrolled left hand turn and couldn't get a handle on the situation. Wonder, laced with adrenalin and fear, was consuming my thoughts. I was looking over the airplane wondering why it balked at my commands. The airplane was still flying, although without roll control, but I had a little time to consider my options.
Bending forward against my shoulder harness, I could look down between my legs and see where the stick was attached to the torque tube. The torque tube transfers movement of the stick to cables that actuate the ailerons and I could see that one of the brackets holding it on was completely broken in half. Where I was moving the stick from side to side, subconsciously hoping for a favorable response, I instantly froze in movement. By moving the stick I was bending the other bracket, effectively destroying the only one I had left. If I lost the other bracket I would completely lose the airplane.
Armed with this new information, some new concerns arise. I am now in danger of losing the whole stick itself which will result in a total loss of elevator control. It will take somewhere near a nanosecond for the plane to go violently out of control.
I knew I couldn't move the stick by hand but I had to somehow move the torque tube to the right in order to level the wings.
I slowly pull my feet off the rudder pedals and try to force the torque tube by pushing on it with my foot. The plane quickly starts to skid across the sky, much like a car does on a rain slick road.
Being that this aircraft was originally built for dog fighting, it was designed with absolutely no inherent stability. The less stability an aircraft possesses, the more agile it is in flight. My plane happens to be incredibly agile and terribly unstable. Typically speaking, most airplanes can be trimmed to fly "hands off". This means that trim tabs on the control surfaces can be adjusted so that the plane will maintain a level flight attitude unless upset by an outside force. Weather and turbulence are good examples of outside forces. My airplane is completely incapable of flying itself in even the calmest of weather conditions. When I let go of my controls and pull my feet off the pedals, the plane will be out of control in mere seconds.
Returning my feet to the rudder pedals, I quickly correct the skid. My only option is to reach down below the seat and push the torque tube over by hand. I loosen my shoulder straps and slip them off my shoulders. I then reach as far down as I can and, with great effort, am able to just touch the torque rod. While pushing with all my might, the plane slowly responds and moves to a wings level attitude. I have just bought myself more time to think.
"Can you make it back?" Jim asked.
Although I don't look to see, I know Jim is just off my wing.
"I think so. I need to try a right turn, am I clear?"
"Clear right." Jim announces.
By bending down so far into the cockpit, in an effort to push the torque rod under my seat, I can no longer see left or right and can barely see forward over the instrument panel. Looking down I can see where the bracket has broken through the elevator attach hole. The bolt holding the elevator is working back and forth in the stick producing a bending and twisting movement on the one remaining bracket. I grab the bolt and bracket with my left hand, trying in vain to stabilize the whole broken mess.
The plane starts its bank to the right.
I am heading away from the airport and I need to make a 270 degree right turn to position myself for the best possible approach. At this I'll be set in a base leg that is roughly two miles from the airport. I will only need to make one more 90 degree left turn to line up on the runway. I am a little nervous about making banked turns because I have no control in the bank. If any wind gusts, or turbulence pushes me into too hard of a bank, I will not have the strength to level the airplane.
I have also lost some elevator authority due to the twisting motion on the stick. If the nose gets too low, the stick will probably twist off the mount and fail to raise the nose. My mind is racing to try and stay two steps ahead of the airplane. I do have a backup plan but, to me, it is as risky as my current situation.
Mounted in the airplane is a ballistic recovery system. It's actually a parachute that is attached to the whole airplane and when activated, and if successfully deployed, will float an aircraft and pilot softly to the ground. Problem is, once the system is deployed there is no going back if things don't work like they should. At this moment I have some control and I have decided to try and land the plane.
I am level and sit up briefly to look left toward the runway. Although it is only two miles away, it appears to be in another universe; an almost unobtainable goal. I'm trying to gage my left turn so I don't over or undershoot the turn. I do not want to be chasing the airplane back and forth along the approach. I would prefer it to be locked in on a nice long smooth decent to landing.
Slowly I push left rudder and skid the plane into a flat turn without banking the wings. If I can keep the wings level in the skid, I will not have to fight the uncontrolled bank to the left. Wind is poring around the windscreen in the skid. My head is buffeting back and forth as it takes the full force of the prop blast. Bending down once again to guard the broken stick, I relax pressure on the rudder and bring the plane back to straight flight. The runway is dead ahead and I am lined up pretty close to the center line.
While peeking over the left side of the instrument panel, and just able to view the runway below, I reach up and reduce engine power with the throttle. I want to maintain a slow decent rate but at a higher than normal airspeed. The slower the airplane is flying the more back pressure I have on the stick. I can tell that the elevator is already sluggish and too weak to handle much more pressure. I continue in toward the runway.
The airplane is now getting too slow and I need to add power. Guarding the lower stick with my left hand and stabilizing the upper stick in the crook of my right arm, I use my right hand to adjust the throttle on the left side of the plane. This ridiculous emergency procedure was not in any of my flight lessons and my instructor would probably pass out it if he could see what I was doing.
The plane started to pitch up and down and I quickly grabbed the stick to smooth it back out. The stick would not handle any hard oscillations.
I was now down to the point of no return. Passing through 100 feet of altitude I knew that I wouldn't have time to pull the chute if things went south. Thankfully, there was little wind and it was blowing straight down the runway. I knew I couldn't handle any crosswind. The required cross control of the aircraft for crosswind landings just wasn't possible and landing in a sideways slip in this airplane is asking for trouble.
The only turbulence I should have would be just off the end of the runway, blowing up and over the trees. Knowing this, I keep the plane high over the trees to minimize the turbulence. At the expected moment the plane makes a subtle bump to the left and then to the right. I grip the torque rod and try in vain to stop the roll. She is now a little off line but I have no choice. I am committed to the landing and I push as hard as I can on the torque rod to put her back on the level. The ground is coming fast.
Jim's voice breaks the noise around me. "You're looking good."
I do not return with comment but welcome the information. He has been my eyes since this little problem started. I am consumed with my dilemma and no longer look for traffic in the air or on the ground. He will warn me and anyone else in the area if the need arises.
The plane is level and I'm still moving fast. At thirty feet I start to round off the descent and slow the plane. I need to be as low as possible before I pull the power. I would prefer to "fly" it to the ground before pulling the power but I do not have enough runway left for that. When I opted for a high flight over the trees I had to give up some of the runway. I must hope that the stick will hold as I pull it back for the flare.
I'm now just off the ground and I promptly sit up straight and roll the throttle back toward idle. The airplane quickly gives up speed and started to settle to the ground. I pull back on the stick to keep the nose up but it simply twists in my hand. The airplane doesn't flare like I would like but instead hits the ground hard on the main gear. She bounces back into the air and I am now chasing the bounce back and forth with a near useless stick. Dancing on the rudder pedals to keep the plane straight I wait until the plane stops bouncing or until something breaks. In a short time she settles down and rolls to a stop. We are still dirty side down and in one piece. I feel good! With the weight of the situation off my mind I actually find myself laughing. It was surely nervous laughter but laughing none the less.
The Aftermath
I taxied to the hangar and shut the plane down. I slowly removed my helmet and with my head laid back, looking straight up into the sky, let calmness flow back into my body. After a brief moment in thought, I started to secure the cockpit. While performing my normal post flight tasks I noticed my right hand was shaking uncontrollably. I remember looking at it curiously, as if it were someone else's hand. I never felt like I was panicked and didn't feel that an uncontrollable shake was warranted now. It was a little disturbing. I was certainly concerned for my wellbeing, but because I had time to assess the situation and tinker with the plane, my mind simply focused on a solution. These shakes should not have been happening.
I quickly crawled out of the plane and said to Jim. "I need to get airborne and work out some jitters. You mind if I ride with you?"
"Not at all." He said.
I think he was already prepping the plane.
From the back seat of Jim's plane I flew the entire flight. Enjoyment and exhilaration returned with a simple push of the throttle. Jim calls it aero therapy…and therapy it is. He once said that he was trying to explain the joys of flight to someone who hadn't flown before. They didn't seem to understand why he had such passion for flight. He claimed it was like describing the gift of sight to a person who has been blind since birth. You can describe the beauty of sight but they will never experience true beauty, until they can see. Well put.
After watching my hand bounce around like I had a bad case of delirium tremors, I decided that I needed to get back on the horse as soon as possible. Although I never felt like this would get into my head and extinguish my flame for flight, I didn't want to give it the chance. Flying with Jim calmed the nerves and cured any cerebral imbalance I might develop.
When I think about this day I can't help but marvel at my good fortune. The winds being straight down the runway are in no way a common occurrence at this airport. If the stick had broken in the dive instead of at a moment when I was straight and level the outcome would have been much different. The fact that it happened not far from the airport and at a location that required only two turns was also a plus. I found that the other bracket was also cracked and there is no telling how long it would have held together.
It seems that I usually have to struggle though just about any situation to win, but this time all the stars were aligned and seas were parted to assure a positive end. Although my plane is just a single seat, I believe I had a co-pilot that day, one that controlled much more than just my aircraft.
