SHARM L. KUCH
U.S. Army Aviation Special Operations Command
Simmons Army Airfield
Fort Bragg, North Carolina

I looked outside the cockpit and thought, “This isn't right!” The reflections from my red anti-collision beacons had the clouds spinning in opposite directions. But how could that be? Maybe it was my brain that was spinning.

I had loaded six Soldiers into my Pilatus Porter aircraft as we prepared to take off at night under instrument meteorological conditions. My mission was to transport the Soldiers from one airport to another. We received our instrument flight rules clearance, departed and, after our initial turn to our on-course heading, entered IMC. It became immediately obvious we needed to turn off the white strobe light that was flashing brightly against the clouds. That’s when the interesting part started.

Our aircraft was equipped with both strobe lights and rotating beacons for its anti-collision light system. The rotating beacons are single, red lens-covered assemblies with one being mounted on the top of the airplane and the other on the bottom of the fuselage. Being identical assemblies, both beacons rotate clockwise. However, when viewing the beacon lights, the one mounted on the bottom of the aircraft rotates in the opposite direction of the other.

So here I was, performing the normal instrument flight cross check in a dark cockpit, when, out of my peripheral vision, I saw one red light reflecting off the clouds traveling from right to left and the other red light traveling from left to right. Talk about having to fight the tumbling gyros in my head. My workload and concentration went up exponentially.

My co-pilot didn't notice it and I was very reluctant to turn off our last anti-collision lights and proceed with just our position lights. We were under radar coverage and instrument flight rules, which meant there was very little danger of a collision with another aircraft. For the next 30 minutes, I fought the tumbling gyros until our vectored descent for the instrument approach. As soon as we broke out of the clouds into night visual meteorological conditions, my head instantly cleared up and all was well.

We landed, dropped off the Soldiers, taxied back to the runway, picked up our IFR clearance and departed for the return flight to the originating airfield. Upon completion of the mission, the co-pilot and I reviewed the light situation and how we could have better communicated during the flight. We discussed how turning the rotating beacon off was not a big deal in that situation. I also brought up the flight during our next pilot academics training day and, after telling my story, a few gray beards chimed in, "Heck yeah, turn off that light!" Our standardization pilot also reemphasized the safest course of action was to turn off the beacon to prevent vertigo and spatial disorientation. We had a good laugh at my expense.

When you read Army Regulation 95-1, paragraph 2-12b, it states, “Anti-collision lights will be on when aircraft engines are operating except when conditions may cause vertigo or other hazards to safety.” I've known that for years, studied it for my annual proficiency and readiness test and often discussed it during safety day and pilot training meetings. As I sat there, I thought, “So this is what that paragraph means!”

Until that night, I didn’t know how this looked in flight and it caught me off guard. Now that I have seen it, I understand why the warnings in the ARs aren’t just words to study. They’re words to live by.