CHIEF WARRANT OFFICER 3 JAMES MCLAIN

The B-17 bomber was closing fast as I made a swift right turn to evade the heavy iron climbing toward my airplane. It happened when I was on a very routine mission flying a Cessna 182 as a law enforcement pilot.

The flight was a surveillance and photo mission for another state agency that occasionally used our aviation services. I’d flown on these types of missions in the past and had only one passenger, who served as the observer and photographer. He was a nervous flyer who would talk nonstop from taxi to landing. As an accommodating pilot, I would let him gab — even though he was really distracting and talked over air traffic control, oblivious to any conversation other than his own.

The mission went well and I turned the airplane toward my home airfield. The day was spectacular with light winds and clear skies. I called the tower controlling the airspace and informed the controller I was ready to clear to the north. The controller answered and sent me on my way.

When I was 10 miles from my home field, I called the tower for landing clearance. The controller responded and cleared me into the airspace with instructions to enter the left downwind for Runway 20. I acknowledged the instructions as my passenger simultaneously described how he was going to work on his boat over the weekend.

At about 8 miles, I started a gradual decent to the field. As I finished scanning my instrument panel, I looked out and observed a B-17 bomber climbing into my flight path. I think my brain blinked for a second because I had never before seen a B-17 flying directly at me. So with a quick evasive maneuver, I turned to the right and kept the bomber in my sight until it lumbered past me, oblivious that they had just passed my airplane.

As I turned my airplane away from danger, I immediately analyzed what had just happened. How did a B-17 bomber get within 500 feet of my airplane without a call from the tower? How did I not hear the tower clear the bomber for takeoff? I knew the bomber was giving rides at my airfield and missed the call.

When I scanned my radio panel I immediately knew what led to this dangerous situation. The tower frequency I thought I had been talking on was loaded in the stand-by position. The active frequency was still tuned to the last tower I had been working during the mission. Since the last tower was only about 25 miles from my home field, my call to the wrong tower was loud and clear.

The other consequence of having the wrong frequency tuned was missing the departure of the B-17 that had just careened past my airplane. To recover, I quickly called the tower from where I had departed and canceled my request for landing, followed by a request to clear the airspace. Once I cleaned up that mess, I called my home tower and calmly requested clearance for landing. The rest of the flight went as advertised.

When I reviewed the flight, I identified the links that almost completed an accident chain that day.

   1. The controller working at the tower where I flew the mission also worked at my home field on a regular basis. So when I erroneously called the wrong tower, his familiar voice did not alert me to my mistake.

   2. I fly department aircraft single pilot, so I am used to a quiet cockpit. My talkative passenger decimated the quiet cockpit on this flight.

   3. My home airport and the mission airport both have Runway 2 and 20 as the primary runways. Both airports were using 20 on the mission day. When I was cleared to enter the pattern for Runway 20 by the wrong tower, I was given what I expected at my home field.

The ideal weather conditions helped me see the B-17 and break this accident chain. Lessons learned on this flight taught me to focus on situational awareness on all flights. This especially applies to “routine” flights that can lull a pilot into a complacent wasteland. And, when converging with a B-17, always give the right of way!