NAME WITHHELD BY REQUEST
I’ve thought a lot about the Rotak CH‑47D crash during a firefighting mission near North Fork, Idaho. Having spent a lot of time on Chinooks, the more I reflect on the incident and my personal experience, the more I see a lesson that applies to every aircrew member whether Army or civilian. The crash did not stem from catastrophic mechanical failure or extreme weather. It grew out of something small and ordinary — something every one of us has seen in a cockpit at some point, especially in today’s ever-expanding environment. That is exactly why it matters.
When I first read about the incident, I tried to picture the crew’s environment and the hazards they faced. They were flying a demanding firefighting mission characterized by low altitude, heavy workload, high heat and constant maneuvering. Anyone who has flown in those conditions knows how quickly the cockpit becomes a high-pressure space. You are managing power, terrain, radios, mission demands and the aircraft itself. In that kind of environment, even a minor distraction can snowball into a major hazard. The CH-47 is a massive aircraft, which is one of the many reasons crew chiefs like me are required on the Army side. Distractions are everywhere. That is where the tablet comes in.
Investigators reported that an unsecured iPad slid under the co-pilot’s pedal during a maneuver. When I imagine that moment, I see the aircraft transitioning after a water drop, the crew adjusting power and attitude, and then suddenly the pedal refusing to move. The Chinook reacts immediately, yawing hard, and the crew has only seconds to respond. With the pedal jammed, they cannot counter the motion. At that altitude and in that environment, recovery becomes nearly impossible.
Looking into this event, I see both human error and how unforgiving the world of aviation can be. A 1-pound object can overpower a multi-ton aircraft when it interferes with the controls. A moment of inattention can erase decades of experience, and a hazard that seems trivial on the ground can become lethal in the air.
As I thought more about the mishap, I realized how many times I have seen loose items in cockpits — pens, gloves, checklists, water bottles, phones and tablets. Most of the time nothing happens. Most of the time we are aware of it and correct it on the spot. But "most of the time" is not good enough in aviation. The Rotak crash shows what happens when the wrong item moves at the wrong moment.
From a safety standpoint, the hazards in this mishap are clear. The combination of unsecured equipment in the cockpit and a high-workload environment left the crew with little margin for error. When rapid maneuvering caused the tablet to shift, their low altitude severely reduced their ability to troubleshoot the resulting control jam.
To prevent these conditions from repeating, we must reinforce several critical lessons. First, we must secure everything, every time. If an item is not tied down, stowed or clipped in, it is an active hazard. Second, we must treat seemingly small hazards with the same seriousness as major ones because the smallest items often cause the most catastrophic problems. Third, a simple 10-second cockpit sweep before entering high-risk phases of flight can break a fatal chain of events before it starts. Finally, crew members must speak up when something feels off. Crew coordination only works when everyone actively participates — a responsibility I am intimately familiar with.
What makes this accident so impactful is its relatability. Every aviator has dealt with cockpit clutter. Every crew member has flown a mission where the workload felt overwhelming, and every one of us has had a moment where we thought, "I will secure that later." The Rotak crash shows why "later" is not good enough.
I do not speculate to place blame. I do it because I want everyone — present and future — to understand how a small hazard can grow into a fatal mishap. When I look at this accident through the lens of Army aviation safety, including Army Regulation 385-10, Department of the Army Pamphlet 385-10, and the -10s and checklists, the message is simple: discipline in the small things protects us from the big things. There is no room for complacency.
The Rotak crew was experienced, capable and respected. Their loss reminds us that aviation does not forgive oversights, even unintentional ones. If we honor them by tightening our own habits — securing our gear, enforcing cockpit discipline and treating every loose item as a potential threat — then their story becomes more than a tragedy. It becomes a lasting lesson for the aviation community.