(From the Pilot) Hey, I felt the need to share with you all the exciting night I had
on the 23rd. It has nothing to do with me wanting to talk about me. It has everything to do with sharing what will no doubt become a better
story as the years go by.So, there I was… Manned up a hot seat for the 2030 launch about 500 miles north of Hawaii (insert visions of many Mai-Tais here). Spotted just forward of the navigation pole and eventually taxied off toward the island
where I do a 180 and get spotted to be the first one off cat I (insert foreboding
music here).

There’s another Hornet from our sister squadron parked
ass over the track about a quarter of the way down the cat. Eventually he
gets a move on and they lower my launch bar and start the launch cycle.
All systems are go on the run-up and after waiting the requisite
5-seconds or so to make sure my flight controls are good to go
    (there ‘s a lot to be said for good old cables and pulleys), I turn
on my lights. As is my habit, I shift my eyes to the catwalk and watch the
deck edge dude, and as he starts his routine of looking left then right,
I put my head back. As the cat fires, I stage the blowers and am along for
the ride. Just prior to the end of the stroke there’s a huge flash and a
simultaneous boom and my world is in turmoil. My little pink body is doing 145
knots or so and is 100 feet above the Black Pacific. And there it stays –
except for the airspeed, which decreases to 140 knots. The throttles aren’t
going any farther forward despite my Schwarzzenegerian efforts to make them do
so. From out of the ether I hear a voice say one word: "Jettison."
Roger that!  A nanosecond later, my two drops and single MER – about 4500 pounds in
all – are Black Pacific bound. The airplane leapt up a bit, but not
    I’m now about a mile in front of the boat at 160 feet and
fluctuating from 135 to 140 knots. The next command out of the ether is another
one-worder: "Eject!"I’m still flying so I respond, "Not yet, I’ve still got it."
    Finally, at 4 miles, I take a peek at my engine instruments and
notice my left engine doesn’t match the right (funny how quick glimpses at
instruments get burned into your brain). The left rpm is at 48% even though I’m
still doing the Ah-Nold thing. I bring it back to mil. About now I get
another "Eject!" call.
    "Nope, still flying."
    Deputy CAG (Carrier Air Group) was watching and the further I got
from the boat, the lower I looked. About 5 miles, I asked tower to please get
the helo headed my way as I truly thought I was going to be shelling
out. At this point I thought it would probably be a good idea to start
dumping some gas. As my hand reached down for the dump switch I actually
remembered that we have a NATOPS prohibition reg arding dumping while in burner.
After a second or two I decided, "hell with that" and turned them on. I was
later told I had a 60 foot roman candle going.
    At 7 miles I eventually started a (very slight) climb. A little
breathing room. CATCC chimes in with a downwind heading and I’m like: "Ooh.
Good idea," and throw down my hook. Eventually I get headed downwind at
900 feet and ask for a rep. While waiting I shut down the left engine. In
short order I hear "Fuzz’s" voice.
    I tell him the following: "OK Fuzz, my gear’s up, my left motor’s
off and I’m only able to stay level with min blower. Every time I pull it to
mil I start about a hundred feet per minute down."
    I continue trucking downwind trying to stay level and keep dumping.
I think I must have been in blower for about fifteen minutes. At ten miles
or so I’m down to 5000 pounds of gas and start a turn back toward the ship.
Don’t intend to land, but don’t want to ge t too far away, either. Of
course, as soon I as I start in an angle of bank, I start dropping like a stone
so I end up doing a 5 mile circle around the ship. Meanwhile, Fuzz is
reading me the single engine rate-of-climb numbers from the PCL based on
    etc. It doesn’t take us long to figure out that things aren’t adding
up. So why the hell do I need blower to stay level!?
    By this time I’m talking to Fuzz, (CATCC) , Deputy CAG (turning on
the flight deck) and CAG who’s on the bridge with the Captain. We decide that
the thing to do is climb to three thousand feet and dirty up. I get headed
downwind, go full burner on my remaining motor and eventually make it to 2000
feet before leveling out below a scattered layer of puffies. There’s a
half a moon above which was really, really cool. Start a turn back toward
the ship, and when I get pointed in the right direction, I throw the gear down
and pull the throttle out of AB.
    Remember that flash/boom! that started this little tale? Repeat it
here. Holy shit! I jam it back into AB and after three or four huge
compressor stalls and accompanying decelleration, the right motor comes back.
    This next part is great. You know those stories about guys who
dead-stick crippled airplanes away from orphanages and puppy stores and stuff
and get all this great media attention? Well, at this point I’m looking at
the picket ship at my 11 o’clock at about two miles and I say on
departure freq to no one in particular, "You need to have the picket ship hang a left
right now. I think I’m gonna be outta here in a second." I said it very
calmly but with meaning. The LSO’s said that the picket immediately started
pitching out of the fight. Ha!  I scored major points with the heavies
afterwards for this. Anyway, it’s funny how your mind works in these situations.
    OK, so I’m dirty and I get it back level and pass a couple miles up
the starboard side of the ship. I’m still in minimum blower and my fuel
state is now about 2500 pounds. Hmmm. I hadn’t really thought about running
out of gas. I muster up the nads to pull it out of blower again and sure
    enough…flash, BOOM!  Damn!
    I leave it in military and it seems to settle out. Eventually, I
discover that even the tiniest throttle movements cause the flash/boom thing
to happen so I’m trying to be as smooth as I can. I’m downwind a couple
miles when CAG comes up and says "Oyster, we’re going to rig the
    Remember, CAG’s up on the bridge watching me fly around doing blower
donuts in the sky and he’s thinking I’m gonna run outta JP-5 too. By now
I’ve told everyone who’s listening that there a better than average chance
that I’m going to be ejecting – the helo bubbas, god bless ’em, have been
following me around this entire time.
    I continue downwind and again, sounding more calm than I probably
was, call paddles. "Paddles, you up?"
    "Go ahead" replies "Max," one of our CAG LSO’s.
    "Max, I probably know most of it but you wanna shoot me the
barricade brief?" (Insert long pause here). After the fact, Max told me they
went from expecting me to eject to me asking for the barricade brief in about
a minute and he was hyper-ventilating. He was awesome on the radio though,
just the kind of voice you’d want to hear in this situation. He gives me the
brief and at nine miles I say, "If I turn now, will it be up when I get
there? I don’t want to have to go around again."
    "It’s going up now Oyster, go ahead and turn."
    "Turning in, say final bearing."
    "Zero-six-three" replies the voice in CATCC. (Another number I
remember – go
    OK, we’re on a four degree glide slope and I’m at 800 feet or so. I
rcept glide slope at about a mile and three quarters and pull
power. Flash/ boom! Add power out of fear. Going high. Pull power.
Flash/boom! Add
    power out of fear. Going higher. (Flashback to LSO school….All
right class, today’s lecture will be on the single engine barricade
    Remember, the one place you really, REALLY don’t want to be is high.
Are there any questions?) The PLAT video is most excellent as each
series of flash/booms shows up nicely along with the appropriate reflections
on the water. "Flats," our other CAG
    paddles is backing up and as I start to set up a higher than desired
sink rate he hits the "Eat At Joe’s" lights. Very timely too. [note:
wave-off  lights – a guts-ball decision]
    I stroke AB and cross the flight deck with my right hand on the
stick and my left thinking about the little yellow and black handle between my
legs. No worries. I cleared that sucker by at least ten feet. By the way my
state at the ball call was 1.1. As I slowly climb out I say, again to no one
in particular, "I can do this."
    Max and Flats heard this and told me later it made them feel much
better about my state of mind. I’m in blower still and CAG says, "Turn
    Again, good idea. After I get turned around he says, "Oyster, this
is gonna be your last look, so turn in again as soon as you’re comfortable."
I lose about 200 feet in the turn and like a total dumbshit I look out as I
get on  centerline and that night thing about feeling high gets me and I
descend further to 400 feet. I got kinda pissed at myself then as I realized
I would now be intercepting the four degree glide slope in the middle.
    No shit fellas, flash/boom every several seconds all the way down.
Last look
    at my gas was 600-and-some pounds at a mile and a half. "Where am I
on the glideslope Max?" I ask ask and hear a calm, "Roger Ball."
    I know I’m low because the ILS is waaay up there and I call "Clara."
Can’t remember what the response was b ut by now the ball’s shooting up
from the depths. I start flying it and before I get a chance to spot the
deck. I hear "Cut, cut, cut!" I’m really glad I was a paddles for so long because
my mind
    said to me, "Do what he says, Oyster," and I pulled it back to idle.
    reason I mention this is that I felt like I was a LONG FRIGGEN WAYS
OUT THERE – if you know what I mean (my hook
    hit 11 paces from the ramp, as I discovered during FOD walkdown
    The rest is pretty tame. I hit the deck, skipped the one, the two,
and snagged the three and rolled into the barricade about a foot right
    centerline. Once stopped my vocal chords involuntarily yelled
"Victory!" on button 2 (the 14 guys who were listening in marshal said it was
pretty cool.
    After the fact I wish I had done the Austin Powers’ "Yeah Baby!"
thing.) The lighghts came up and off to my right there must have been a ga-zillion

    cranials. Paddles said that with my shutdown you could hear a huge
cheer across the flight deck. I open the canopy and start putting my shit
in my helmet bag and the first guy I see is our Flight Deck Chief, huge
guy named
    Chief Richards and he gives me the coolest look and then two thumbs
up. I will remember
    it forever. Especially since I’m the Maintenance Officer. I climb
down and people are gathering around patting me on the back when one of the
boat’s crusty yellow-shirt chiefs interrupts and says, "Gentlemen, great
job but fourteen of your good buddies are still up there and we need to get
them aboard." Again, priceless.
    So there you have it fellas. Here I sit with my little pink body in
a ready room chair on the same tub I did my first cruise in 10 years and 7
months ago. And I thought it was exciting back then!
    P.S. You’re probably wondering what made my motors shit themselves
and I
    almost forgot to tell you. Remember the scene with the foreboding
    When they taxied that last Hornet – the one that was over the cat
track –
    they forgot to remove a section or two of the cat seal. The [flight
    board’s not finished yet, but it’s a done deal. As the shuttle came
back it
    removed the cat seal which went down both motors during the stroke.
    the waveoff, one of the LSO’s saw "about thirty feet" of black
    hanging off the left side of the airplane. The whole left side,
    inside the intake is basically black where the rubber was beating on
it in
    the breeze. The right motor, the one that kept running, has 340
major hits
    to all stages. The compressor section is trashed and best of all, it
had two
    pieces of the cat seal -one about 2 feet and the other about 4 feet
    long, sticking out of the first stage and into the intake. God Bless
    P.P.S. By the way, the data showed that I was fat – had 380 pounds
of gas
    when I shut down. Again, remember this n umber as in ten years it
will surely
    be claiming, FUMES MAN, FUMES I TELL YOU!
    Oyster out…
    – – – –
    This is a good story that describes what most of us don’t see/hear
    from those out there on the pointy tip of the spear. Sleep well at
    because the good guys are out there keeping things safe for us here
at home.


  1. Great reading! Think of all the stories you hear of someone ‘losing control of a car’. Seems pretty insignificant and no excuses if this guy can wrangle in an F18 huh?

  2. Thanks for posting this Amazing story.
    Something that would not be told during the Nightly World News.
    Had me on the edge of my seat for sure.
    Our Pilots have Truly Amazing Skills.
    This Pilot needs more than a Pat on the back, but a Promotion in Rank!
    I could hear that Victory
    ” Top Gun ” music at the end 🙂
    Here’s to All our Military Hornet Pilot’s,The Best of The Best,
    Clear & Safe Skies Always !
    Proud to send Support their way.

  3. Man, I didn’t understand half of what this pilot said, but it was the coolest story!!! LOL about “orphanages and puppy stores”.
    Thanks for the riveting mind pictures, Maj P!

  4. Awesome story. The skill needed to be a fighter pilot is seldom understood by civilians. In the 70s I was trying to get into the AF or Naval Academy. I wanted to be a fighter pilot. Many apply, few make it. I remember being told the difference in flight training for AF pilots was about six months vs 24 for Naval Aviators. When I asked why I was told it had a lot to do with “controlled crashes” on Carriers vs a nice long runway. No, I did not have the “right stuff”, but I respect those who do. Jesus, the thought of landing on a rolling Carrier deck at night still gives me cold sweats even though I never had to. When you talk about the “best of the best” these Aviators come to mind for me. God bless our warriors and pity the fools to stupid to appreciate them.

  5. Thanks for the details, Oyster!
    Actually, about 18 months ago, I read a short version of an account that was very similar to yours (i.e. a section of the cat seal that got sucked in); so maybe that was you!
    From an ol’ Air Force dude, that was Bravo Zulu!

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