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As Army aviators, we strive to prepare ourselves for any emergency situation we may encounter. Much time is spent in the aircraft practicing emergencies to the extent regulations allow. We study Chapters 5 and 9 of our operator’s manuals and spend hours in our respective simulators practicing emergency procedures and scenarios. Many of us reach a level of confidence that makes us think we can handle just about anything. Combine that confidence with the good fortune of never experiencing a serious emergency, and your guard may slip a little.

Flight simulators are great tools for emergency procedures and mission training. After a while, however, the simulator can become routine — if you let it. In the back of your mind, you know you can’t get physically hurt. How many dual-engine or tail rotor failures have you performed in the “box” and walked away? Do you treat emergencies in the simulator with the same intensity you would in the aircraft? It’s too bad a flight simulator can’t give you that shot of adrenaline when an actual emergency occurs. That extra jolt adds another aspect to your decision-making process. Here’s my story.

The mission was a day, live-fire exercise in support of U.S. Air Force A-10s conducting graduate instructor pilot training for their Joint Air Attack Team (JAAT) phase. The original plan called for two sorties of two Apaches, each providing attack helicopter support against an armored column and surface-to-air missile threats. Our aircraft was scheduled to be part of the first sortie, but due to maintenance problems, we were unable to make the first turn.

Maintenance repaired the aircraft, and we joined the second flight to get some valid training. The mission brief had been conducted earlier in the day. Since we were originally scheduled for the first mission, we hadn’t put emphasis on the second mission portion of the brief. My commander and I thought this wouldn’t be a problem because it was a day mission and we had already flown parts of the range earlier in the week. We completed the brief with the second flight, ran up and departed on time as Chalk 3.

Because of his previous JAAT experience, my commander was the air mission commander. We were armed with white phosphorus rockets but no 30 mm ammunition.

As we entered the range, we received a call from the Air Force instructor that we were shifting engagement areas and targets due to range issues. I thought, “There just went a large part of pre-mission planning.” We received the updated mission data and pressed on. It was a longer flight than originally planned, so fuel management was critical.

When we arrived at our firing position, the radios were already busy and the A-10s were ready. We talked to the ground forward air controller and simulated artillery to expedite getting set in our firing position. The AMC in the front seat received a situation report, and we began to run the mission. Because of the sense of urgency, I didn’t take the time to do a proper assessment of our firing position (maneuvering altitude, fly-away plan, etc.) and brief the AMC because I was too focused on acquiring targets, looking for the A-10s and trying to help him. The A-10s made their runs as we engaged our targets, covering their egress.

About 10 minutes into the engagement, I heard two loud reports at the rear of the aircraft and thought I felt a vibration in the flight controls. I started to ask the AMC if he had heard the noise when he cut me off. He shouted, “That’s us, that’s us!” I guess he heard the same thing. I immediately nosed the aircraft over to establish forward flight. I then asked myself, “Where am I going?” Here comes the adrenaline. We had two Apaches firing rockets on our right, A-10s to our front ingressing and egressing from the left and right, and our firing position was backed up against some tall hills behind us and immediately to our left. We still had no idea what was wrong with our aircraft.

I quickly decided I was going to land. I let my AMC know of my intentions, picked a landing spot off the nose of the aircraft and shot a quick approach. However, our airspeed was too fast for the approach. On top of that, I had hastily misread the terrain. We landed firmly at about a 45-degree angle to down-sloping terrain running left to right. After a considerable amount of ground run, I was able to bring the aircraft to a stop. The postflight inspection revealed no damage, and maintenance was unable to find or duplicate what had happened. It had to have been luck because skill or precision wasn’t what got us on the ground safely.

Lessons learned
As we headed back to the airfield, I replayed in my mind what had happened, my actions and what I could have or should have done to minimize the risks to the hazards we encountered. The list was long. The most important point was I allowed the mission changes, compressed timeline, sense of urgency and other distractions to prioritize my adherence to procedures and standards. The whole sequence of events could’ve been a lot less intense if I had stuck to the standards, regardless the situation.

Like I said before — we were lucky. No one was injured (physically) and the aircraft was OK. I got another chance. My boss and I are still flying, and I always try to apply what I learned that day. The scenarios in the “box” are no longer routine or repetitive. Simulators are unpredictable but realistically challenging. You’re definitely going to get a shot of adrenaline with in-flight last-minute changes; but that’s OK, I really don’t need another one.