My closest call to an actual crash landing was at the Tri Cities Airport that serves the Johnson City - Bristol - Kingsport, Tennessee area. In February, of the mid-50s, a Navy SNB, a small twin-engine aircraft crashed in the vicinity of the airport while attempting to land in a snowstorm. The aircraft was not located for several days. Our Civil Air Patrol unit flew every day trying to locate it. On one trip out, I joined up with a helicopter to search one particular mountain range, with the helicopter searching one side and me and my spotter searching the other side.
We were just north of Bristol, Tennessee and about 20-25 miles from the airport when I got into a light misty-like rain shower. Within seconds the front wrap-around windshield was covered with ice - I suddenly had no forward visibility!! I could see the ground out of the left and right windows as these windows were located under the wings and the freezing rain could not reach them.
As soon as the front windshield had started freezing I had turned and headed towards the airport. Without the ability to see out front, locating the airport was a little difficult. It seemed forever! I would have to fly in the general direction of the airport and periodically do a circle so I could see the airport out of the side windows. I finally arrived over the airport. The radio we had installed in the plane was always having trouble. On this particular day, as I recall, I could transmit but I could not receive. Not having radio communications with the control tower simply heightened my concerns, and my anxiety!
I called the airport control tower on the radio and told them of my radio problems and if they received my transmission to give me a light with their light gun (A large flashlight-like apparatus they had in the tower to communicate with non-radio aircraft. A green light meant you were cleared to land, a red light meant hold your position or you were not cleared to land!). I looked to the tower and they gave me a flashing green - cleared to land!
I told the tower of my predicament. I informed them that I had no forward visibility and ice was beginning to build up on the leading edges of the wings. Again, I received a green light indicating that they had received my radio transmission. The ice on the wings gave me new concerns. Ice can add a lot of weight on an airplane in a hurry. Things were beginning to get out of hand and the situation was beginning to look pretty bad!
My partner, the spotter in the back seat, was getting a little anxious. I didn’t know him. He had been in the hanger when I was getting ready to leave that morning and had asked if he could ride along to help me with the search. I, of course, readily accepted his offer since I badly needed another set of eyes to help locate the missing airplane and its passengers. I remember him being a very nice young man.
I had a plan. Hopefully, it would work. I wasn’t scared. A little nervous, perhaps. But, I was confident and I think that was what got me through that little ordeal. First, I would extend quite a ways out, that is, I would fly out several miles from the airport in order to have plenty of time to get lined up with the runway and to get my descent rate just right.
Second, the ice added weight, which meant I would have a higher landing stall speed. If the plane’s normal stall speed (Speed that the plane would quit flying and start falling.) was 50 miles per hour, with the ice it would probably be a speed of 60 to 70 miles per hour when it stalled.
Third, since I had no forward visibility, I would do what they called a power-on landing, that is I would give it a little throttle and fly the airplane down over the runway by looking out the side windows. Normally, on these airplanes you would close the throttle (cut all power) after you crossed the end of the runway and let the plane “float” onto the ground. On most of the small aircraft of those years, you could look out of the side windows and see the main landing gear and its wheels. My plan was when I had the wheels about three to five feet off the runway I would chop the power, start holding the airplane off the ground until it loses its flying speed and let it settle onto the runway and then taxi to the hanger like nothing ever happened. It was a darn good plan, I thought!
I flew the plane out about five miles to line it up with the runway. Since I had learned to fly at that airport, I knew the surrounding terrain pretty well so I didn’t have a lot of problems arriving over the end of the runway but things were not going well.
My well thought out plan was beginning to come apart! I had kept too much power on and badly overshot the end of the runway. Tri City Airport had two runways and they crossed in the middle, sort of like an “X”. I saw the intersection of the runways go by. That meant that I had already used up half of the runway and I was still 40 to 50 feet off the ground.
I was running out of runway fast!
Things began to happen fast. You don’t have time to think, only time to react. A split-second decision was made to try to get it on the ground with the remaining runway and not run off the end of the runway.
I was looking out the left side window. I saw the intersection go by. I still couldn’t see through the front windshield at all - there was absolutely no forward visibility. I had no references to fly by except the side windows and that didn’t help much. Shortly after the intersection went by I managed to bring the airplane a little closer to the ground. I thought! I’m looking out the side window, looking down at the wheel, and looking past it to the runway trying to judge how far the wheel is above the runway. It appeared to be about 5 feet. I could only guess at how much runway I had left. It wasn’t much, I thought. It’s now or never.
I pulled back on the throttle and cut off all power. At the same time, I pulled back slightly on the stick as the plane, without engine power, started to lose flying speed. I wanted it to slowly stall and settle gently onto the runway. When the stall finally came, I could tell from my flying experiences, as limited as they were, that I was more than five feet above the ground. I must have been twenty-five feet!
When a plane stalls (runs out of flying speed) the nose with the heavy engine out front drops first. To recover from a stall, you apply FULL THROTTLE. Stalls at higher altitudes are a lot of fun. You pull back on the throttle a little and then pull back on the stick and when it runs out of flying speed, the nose will drop rather quickly. To recover, you let the nose drop to just below the horizon, apply full throttle, apply back pressure on the stick and you’re back to flying straight and level. BUT, you’ve lost two hundred feet! It takes two hundred feet to do a stall recovery. I’ve got about twenty feet! It’s looking a lot like crash time!
When the plane stalls and starts to fall, I know I’m to high and I start a stall recovery - I apply full power - the throttle is wide open. If I don’t catch it, it is going to fall nose first into the runway. The full throttle doesn’t completely catch it, there’s not enough altitude, but it does break the fall. Instead of the plane coming down nose first into the runway, the full throttle let it hit the runway at a steep angle, and the wheels hit instead of the nose.
I’ve got a mess! I hit the runway with a steep nose-down attitude and with full throttle. You can imagine what happens next. The plane bounces off its rubber tires and back into the air. Suddenly the nose is pointing towards the sky. I don’t want to go in that direction, so I pull the power back off, the plane falls again.
It falls back onto the runway. I’m still moving along at a pretty good clip. There’s still too much flying speed. Another split second decision! The plane is so out of shape, just let me get it back into the air and do this landing again and do it right this time. I apply full throttle one more time in an attempt to get it airborne. I have to get it back into the air. I still can’t see out front but I know I’m out of runway!
I have full power on and I’m pulling back on the stick. You’re supposed to fly, baby, com’on, I was screaming! Apparently, while looking out the side window and trying to see where I was on the runway and how much runway I had left, I applied right rudder, which turned the airplane to the right. I am now off the runway and headed across the grass and away from the runway and there is three inches of snow on the ground and the throttle is wide open. The plane flies about ten feet and falls back to the ground, bounces and flies another ten feet and falls back to the ground. I know there are trees in the direction I’m heading. I need to get her into the air and fast!
The plane bounces and skips a few more times. She’s not going to fly, I finally conclude, before I hit the trees. I chopped the power and turned the plane hard to the left to miss the trees that I believed was out in front of me. The left wing tip hit the ground, tore a big hole in it, and the plane spun around and around in the snow and finally came to a rest just like someone had parked it out there in the snow.
I remember a lot about that little incident, but two things really stand out. One, the young man in the back seat was slapping me on the back yelling “good job, good job!” and the second thing that stands out in my mind, is I looked up to the tower and they were giving me the clear to taxi light! I complied. I gave it a little gas and taxied through the snow and across the field and back onto the runway and onto the taxiway and back to the hanger.
It was a frightening experience and one that I shall never forget! I certainly didn’t realize it then, but I do today - I walked away from that landing only because God was my co-pilot!
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