CHIEF WARRANT OFFICER 2 BRANDON L. KNIEST
A Company, 224th Military Intelligence Battalion (Aerial Exploitation)
Hunter Army Airfield
Fort Stewart, Georgia
On my second operational deployment to Central America, another pilot in command (PC) and I were conducting a local area orientation (LAO) flight in conjunction with an intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) mission flight. We were flying the MC-12S Enhanced Medium Altitude Reconnaissance Surveillance System (EMARSS) fixed-wing aircraft with a dual-PC cockpit. In the back of the aircraft, we had two crewmembers serving as aerial sensor operators (ASO) who were also facilitating both the LAO and ISR mission profiles. Our Central America detachment had just begun a personnel handover. I arrived in-country earlier in the week, and this was my second LAO flight with the PC, who was operational for the past several months.
Being previously deployed to this location myself, the first LAO the day before was uneventful. Most of the flight was spent discussing procedures with the new ASO to make sure he was fully prepared when the retiring crew went home. The other pilot and I quizzed each other on aircraft systems, and I also reacquainted myself with hearing air traffic control (ATC) calls in both English and Spanish. This was the last day of LAOs and I expected the flight to go much like the day prior.
We conducted our mission brief before the flight as normal. We then received the ISR tasking and discussed where and how we would enter our mission profile. The ASOs briefed which sensors would be operational and our target characteristics. After everything was completed, we reviewed our 175-1 weather brief, commonly referred to as the “Dash 1.”
Previously, I had flown down there in the winter months, and the weather was beautiful. Occasionally, we had volcanic ash and low ceilings to consider, but there was rarely a day that wasn’t clear blue. Now I was there during the summer months, and the tropical climate was producing a lot of convective activity. On this day, we had thunderstorms to the north, which were not a factor, and there was expected convective activity shortly after our scheduled landing time in the vicinity of the airfield. We called the weather briefers to get an update and brought up our concerns; however, they verified there were no expected hazards during our period or flight route.
As expected, the flight was going as the day before. Halfway through the mission, though, clouds began to build in the working area. We were established in a 5 nautical mile (nm) orbit around a target at flight level (FL) 230. The other pilot and I were monitoring our onboard weather radar and had communication with our tactical operations center (TOC) for weather updates. At this point, the clouds seemed to be non-precipitation-forming altostratus with no need for concern.
About this time, I transferred the radios to the other pilot, used one of the pilot relief bags to relieve myself and then returned to my seat. As the mission continued, the clouds on the eastern half of our orbit built and began to affect our collection capabilities. I requested the airspace to shift 5 nm to the west, which was granted, and we didn’t have any other issues during the collection phase of the mission.
On our way back to the airfield, the convective activity was developing sooner than briefed. Our weather radar was picking up several returns, which looked to have the potential to build into unfavorable conditions. We discussed this as a crew, and nothing seemed too concerning as we planned to be on the ground well before anything became unsafe.
As we proceeded back to the airport, we requested the instrument landing system (ILS) approach, and ATC assigned vectors. This particular airport during this time of day was busy with many types of traffic — commercial, general aviation, helicopters and military aircraft — all trying to make it back in before the weather hit the airfield. To accommodate all this traffic, we were on vectors longer than we wanted, but we were patient. We descended to FL 190 and were in the clouds flying 100 percent instruments. The other PC and I were fairly experienced instrument pilots so that wasn’t concerning. However, the radar was picking up returns that raised an eyebrow.
We had finally been cleared for the approach and continued our descent, but depicted right over the initial approach fix on our weather radar was a small red blob, which wasn’t there a second ago. I motioned to it on the multifunctional display and asked the other pilot, since he’d been operating in this area for a while, if he was concerned. He responded, “Oh that? Don’t worry about that little guy. It’s just heavy precipitation. We will be in and right back out of it.” To me, this was a reasonable response. I’d experienced this kind of weather at home station and while deployed at other locations. The radar picks up rain and sometimes depicts it as red on the display, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it is a thunderstorm.
We arrived at the initial approach fix and my partner seemed to be correct. We were going through heavy rain, but other than that, everything seemed fine. As we dialed in our minimums and finalized the approach checklist, the entire aircraft violently jolted down and immediately back up. It felt as if we hit a pothole in the sky. Clipboards and water bottles ended up on the center pedestal and the floor. One of the ASOs did not have his seat belt tightened, which caused him to raise so far out of his seat that his head hit the cabin ceiling. Our 60-pound survival kit went from one side of the aircraft to the other. Even worse, the electronic logbook case wasn’t secured before the flight and landed right on top of the relief bag I used earlier, which caused it to explode all over the aft of the cabin. Then, just like that, it was over. We broke out of the clouds 30 seconds later, no more rain, and continued the approach visually. We landed the aircraft and assessed the damage. Other than the mess that needed to be cleaned up in the back, and a shook-up ASO, everything was fine.
Lessons learned
We learned a few lessons from this event. It’s easy for us in the fixed-wing community to get into a groove. What I mean by this is that sometimes the missions don’t change very often and you start to do the same thing over and over. In this case, although the same mission profile had been flown for a while, the weather was transitioning from one season to the next. One indication in the cockpit, although visually the same, meant something very different due to the season. It’s important to talk about those seasonal weather briefs and how the local weather characteristics change. I propose incorporating a regional and seasonal weather brief given by the Air Force specific to your operation whenever an organization makes a movement to a new area. Even if you have already been there before, it’s important because different weather phenomena happen during different times of the year.
Lastly, this was a reminder to take care of all the little things that could have second- and third-order effects. As a PC, make sure everything that is supposed to be secured is secured. If it’s not, address it accordingly so it isn’t an issue with other crews. We brief seat belts before every flight. Now, especially when I fly with a new crew, I tell this story to back up the importance of having them securely fastened. Both things, although small, could have had a much larger impact if the situation was more severe. Remember, always look out for the little guy!