If all four quit

[Kip Powick]

While going through the P3 FRS, newly winged aviators have always asked

the question: "Has a P-3 ever lost all four engines at the same time."The

answer was always: "No, it will never happen." Well as Murphy's Law applies,

it can - and we did.

While on deployment and after performing an anti-submarine warfare

mission with the USS Constellation (CV-64) battle group, which was located

200 miles east of Oman, VP-47 combat aircrew nine was returning to Masirah,

Oman.The flight station crew was composed of LCDR Mark Radice, a lieutenant

commander and a former P-3 FRS instructor who had just checked into the

squadron 19 days earlier for his second tour; AE 1 Richard White, the flight

engineer; and me, a senior lieutenant in the squadron with about 273

aircraft commander hours.

Little did we know that we were about to experience the beginning of

what would eventually be one of the worst P-3 mishap ever. We had just

restarted the number one engine, which was loitered on station to conserve

fuel, and climbed up to an altitude of 16,000 feet for our transit home. At about 130 miles east of the island of Masirah, Oman,the flight engineer noticed that the number one prop pump warning light onthe number four engine was illuminated. I directed the flight engineer toincrease the number four power lever, which was the first step of ouremergency procedure, and it also ensured that we have a good blade angle.

We then pulled out our NATOPS flight manual commonly referred to as the

"Big Blue Sleeping Pill," and read through the remaining steps of our

procedure. Having a prop pump light in itself was not a big worry, but it

could eventually lead to bigger problems. Approaching 80 miles east of

Masirah, the situation worsened. The second prop pump light on the number

four engine illuminated and the prop began to overspeed. The crew went

through the overspeed procedures, and we determined that the prop was pitch

locked. This malfunction does not occur on a regular basis in the P-3 Orion,

so needless to say, the flight crew's concern and heart rate increased as to

what would happen to the prop when we fuel chopped the engine during our

descent to land. We flew back to the airfield at 16,000 feet and executed a

slow, spiraling descent to maintain our number four engines rpm at 100

percent. Not knowing what would happen when we fuel chopped the number four

engine, the flight station went through the descent, approach and three

engine landing considerations checklists.

Approaching 6,000 feet and nearing the engine's limit power setting, we

decided to circle the field one last time, extend out for a good downwind

leg and fuel chop the engine in anticipation for our landing. Unfortunately,

we would not get to land at the airfield. Passing 5,600 feet, we heard and felt a tremendous explosion. Myco-pilot, who was in the right seat, looked out and saw a huge cloud ofblack smoke. To his utter dismay, when the smoke cleared, he saw the numberfour prop missing and the reduction gear box on fire.

LCDR Radice called out to shut down the number four engine and discharge

the fire extinguisher. I was in the left seat, so I was unable to see what

was going on. Trusting his judgment, I concurred with the decision to shut

the engine down. The flight engineer shut down the engine and discharged the

fire extinguisher. LCDR Radice looked out at the engine and the fire was

still raging. AE1 White then discharged the second fire bottle.

Unfortunately, the fire kept burning. AE 1 White then called out that the

number three engine's rpm was winding down. LCDR Radice looked out at the

number three prop and called out that the prop are looked bad.

It made sense that during the explosion, the number four engine probably

took out the number three engine. We then called out to shut down the number

three engine. While the flight engineer was pulling the number three

emergency shutdown handle, I simultaneously advanced the number one and

number two engine power levers.

Expecting to hear or feel a pitch change in the prop and not getting

one, you can imagine my reaction when I looked out and saw both props barely

rotating. Upon seeing this, I looked back inside the flight station to let the

rest of the crew in on the secret, but AE1 White beat me to it and called

flameout on number one and two engines.

All of the sudden the flight station went dark due to a total electrical

power loss. Shaking my head with dismay, "saying you've got to be kidding

me," we directed AEI White to pull the hydraulic boost handles and start the

auxiliary power unit in order to get electrical power back. At this time we

were gust locked, which is the same as when your car's steering column locks

up and you can't move it. To say the least, it was not a good feeling.

After the boost handles were pulled, the flight engineer made several

attempts to start the APU, but it kept flaming out. At this point things

were really looking bad for VP-47's crew. When the boost handles were

pulled, the aircraft should have switched from a hydraulic to a mechanical

advantage. For some reason, this didn't occur and we were unable to control

the aircraft. The aircraft rolled right into a 45-50 degree angle of bank

and our airspeed bled off from 260 to 210 knots.

On the flight station we thought that the aircraft was going to stall

and roll inverted. What a horrible gut wrenching feeling it was to think

that this was going to be the end for everyone. I was their aircraft

commander and I as responsible for their well-being. I could not get control

of the aircraft and we did not have time to put on our parachutes to

bailout.

Even if we would have had time to don our parachutes, the main cabin

door was facing the sky, which made bailing out impossible. Up to this

point, the entire evolution from engine explosion had taken about 45

seconds. With my heart pounding from being afraid and wanting to save the

rest of the crew, I said a quick prayer. My prayers were answered. The

control column went boost out and unlocked. Finally at about 2,500 feet, we

were able to control the aircraft. We leveled the wings, then continued in a

left hand turn to acquire the airfield.

When I saw the airfield 90 degrees off of our left wing, we were at

2,000 feet and 6-7 miles away from land. A harsh reality set in -- we were

going to have to ditch the aircraft. Having never heard of or seen NATOPS

procedures for a no engine, no-flap, boost-out ditch, the we had to use gut

instinct. We knew that if we flew too fast, it would be hard to pull the

nose up upon water entry. If we flew to slow, the aircraft would stall soon

after leveling off above the water.

We maintained our airspeed between 175-180 knots, which gave us a 1,000

fpm rate of descent. At about 1,200 feet, we told the rest of the crew to prepare for

immediate ditching. At 200 feet approaching water entry, both LCDR Radice

and I started pulling back on the yoke. The nose came up nicely. The two biggest items necessary to perform a successful ditch is tomaintain wings level and have a shallow rate of descent. At first, we were able to keep our wings level and get our rate of descent to about 300 feet per minute. At 80 feet, the right wing started rolling as we slowed down.

LCDR Radice recognized the p! roblem, called for left full yoke and the

right wing came back up. Upon water entry, we were wings level, had a 200

feet per minute rate of descent and were right at 135 knots. After several

skips across the water and fighting to keep the nose of the aircraft up, the

plane finally came to rest. A P-3 ditch can best be described as being

similar to a log ride at an amusement park, but with more of a kick in the

pants.

The amazement of still being alive with the Orion still afloat caught me

off guard, but there was little time for celebration. The water traversed

through the tube of the aircraft and shot into the flight station like

someone pointing a fire hose at us. My co-pilot and flight engineer

evacuated the aircraft through the overhead escape hatch. I evacuated the

aircraft through the side escape hatch located immediately behind the pilot

seat on the left side.

After jumping into the water, I soon realized that the plane was still

drifting like a boat does without power. To my chagrin, the number two prop

was coming right for me and was going to plow right over me. All that 1

could do was to paddle backwards as fast as I could to avoid the prop,

putting my hands on the prop to push me out of its way. Fortunately, the

aircraft came to a stop and I was able to swim to the leading edge of the

wing between the number one and number two engines.

I called out to LCDR Radice to see if the whole crew made it out of the

aircraft. I was covered from head to toe with aircraft fuel and my eyes were

on fire. My flight gloves were slippery from the fuel and this made it

difficult to climb on top of the wing. After three tries, I was finally able

to climb on top of the wing and reach the my TACCO and in-flight technician.

The rest of the crew evacuated out the starboard side escape hatch and

entered their life rafts. My in-flight tech nician was pulling the ring to inflate the life raft, but the blasted thing! would not inflate.

A pilot friend of mine and his crew were waiting to take off to pick up

an admiral in Bahrain when we hit the water. Shortly after we got into

the life rafts, my buddy flew over and the crew let out a big yell. Once

things finally settled down, the crew looked each other over and checked for

injuries. To my surprise, not a single crew member was injured. The only person

with a problem was me.

Up to this point I had controlled my temper quite well, but this was too

much. After a few choice words directed to the life raft, the only option

left was to inflate our life vests and swim around to the other side.

Realizing our predicament, the crew in the other life rafts began to

paddle around the rear of the aircraft in order to meet us. The three of

us joined the other crew members and climbed into the rafts. I had fuel

in my eyes and they were burning like crazy. My sensor one operator carried

a little water bottle in his life vest. He pulled out the water bottle and

began to pour it in my eyes to flush out the fuel.

While he was taking care of me, my TACCO and second pilot were trying to

contact the other P-3 crew on our PRC-90 radios to let them know of our

status. This day was true to form, because my TACCO went through three radios

before he found one that worked. On the fourth radio, he was finally able to

talk to the other crew to let them know that we were fine. We were in the rafts for only 10 minutes before the SAR helicopter arrived. The rescue was uneventful. The helicopter took seven crew members on the first trip and four crew members on the second trip.

A month later, a barge and crane raised the aircraft and we discovered

that the number four prop had thrown a blade. The imbalance of only three

blades caused the engine to explode. The prop blade was thrown from right to

left and cut through the body of the aircraft, severing 35 of 44 engine and

flight control ca! bles. Fo ur of the cables cut went to the four engines.

The cutting action caused a pulling action which shut down all four engine

simultaneously. The hydraulic boost handle cables were cut and the APU fuel

line was cut. The nine intact cables were two aileron cables, two elevator

cables, two elevator trim tab cables and two rudder trim tab cables. The

co-pilot's main flight control cable was cut.

VP-47's crew nine flew under a lucky cloud that day. For so many things

to So wrong and everything to work out perfectly was a total surprise to me.

I have never questioned the reason we were spared, but I am glad that we

were.