It's nice to be able to study terrain maps and prepare to go into a place. I've never had that luxury. Often we didn't know where we were going when we took off; we would be given a rought direction and some lat long coordinates enroute. We didn't know where we'd be recovering to, either. Studying terrain wouldn't help. The arena was far too big, and the targets far too general to prepare, and the visibility far too low to worry about it.
I'm not a fatalist, nor do I have a bad attitude. Some of my more recent work has been in an industry that has lost up to 10% of it's people on an annual basis, and could be considered by some to be high risk. Generally when an accident occurs, it's not survivable. Therefore, we train and prepare and fly such that we do all we can to avoid an accident.
However, when you're in an airplane that's not very maneuverable, that's 50 years old and spares and new parts haven't been built for 49 of those years, and you're in a tight canyon in moderate to severe turbulence in near zero visibility, with a climb capability on all engines of 100 fpm, with flames 100-200' above your working altitude, maneuvering at 200' or less, with objects flying around in there on fire the size of 2X4's and even the size of trees, in close proximity to a number of other aircraft...there are a number of factors that are outside your control.
You concentrate on what you can deal with, and do NOT worry about what you can't. There is only one way to make such an operation safe; stay on the ground. When it's one's livliehood, one doesn't sit on the ground. One is pilot, firefighter, crewchief, mechanic, navigator, and engineer, using a crew of 2 in an airplane designed to be flown by a crew of 11.
I'm far from fatalistic. However, the above is one of a number of different assignments I've had which do involve risk, much of which cannot be changed or taken away. Some has been over fire, some over water. Some over the desert, most in the mountains. Much of it has been low level. I learned to fly formation UNDER powerlines as part of learning to fly ag, and was employed in that capacity; it was my first job after high school and I started it at age 18.
Fatalistic believing that there is nothing you can do. Realistic is having been in the business and having buried enough friends and competitors to know there are times that there is nothing you can do. Realistic is knowing when those times are, and knowing enough about what you're doing to know that you needn't dwell on those times.
It's nice to always have an out. There are jobs that don't permit an out, where you are quite simply out of luck if something goes wrong. I have enough experience in those jobs to understand that, and to know that there are more important tasks to concentrate on at such times than contemplating the potential disasters that might befall me. Simply put, I do my job, and do it the best I can. Once I have done all I can, I needn't fear.
Yes, I've spent time in the water in gear, training in egress, training in survival. I've spent time in the hills in the summer and winter training in survival, and in the desert. I've spent time doing the same thing in the rainforest, and other places. I carry gear, I plan ahead.
You want fatalistic? The aircraft I flew into the fires, above, was old. Every flammable fluid and ignition source in the aircraft, safe the engine oil tanks, was in the cockpit with me. The single source of all the system hydraulics was in a tank behind me. The fuel came in from the wings, entered the boost pumps, and went back out to the wings. The boost pump boxes sat atop the inverters; a leak and there would be a fire. Every accumulator in the airplane was right behind us in the cockpit. The fuel gages were made of glass, were sight gages, and were in the cockpit. Beneath us was the APU; a 54 year old 2 cylinder ranger engine; it was directly beneath our seats. In the cockpit was a large janitrol heater, fed with avgas, in the floor, out in the open; it tended to catch fire from time to time. The wings on that airplane had a history of leakage. We did much better than the services which had them before; we didn't have nearly the problems because we took better care of the equipment, but it still wasn't unheard of to have the bomb bay fill with avgas.
Every compressed gas, every flammable fluid, every source of ignition, right there with us in the cockpit. Our egress was right in front of the #2 and #3 propellers. Historically,when those airplanes did go in, it was invariably in the conditions previously indicated. Fatalistic is knowing that eveyrbody has died. Fatalistic might even be knowing that since 1969, 135% of the tanker pilots have died. That's everybody and a third of those that started. One individual survived a P-2 wreck for almost a day, three years ago, but died on scene. (He was wearing green nomex, which made him hard to find at the wreck site, and was unable to be located prior to his death). Fatalistic is throwing one's hands in the air and stating with apathy, "oh well, I guess I'm next."
I'm not fatalistic. I'm realistic. I know the risks, and I fly such that I attempt to mitigate them. I carried a full complement of spares on board. I carried tools. I'm a fully certificated mechanic and inspector, and have had to work on the airplane in flight during malfunctions and emergencies. Being prepared means being prepared for anything, and I hardly see that as fatalistic.
However, once one has been put in the situation of making a forced landing or ditching, one knows that either it will be successful, or not. If not, then it's out of your hands. You do what you can, and if you survive, you make the best of it. If you don't, then you needn't worry because you're dead. Only your family need worry.
Should one worry about that when flying over terrain, over water, or at night? I dont' believe so. I take care of that by planning ahead where ever possible, but certainly not be worrying about it at the time. I don't spend a moment in a piston or turboprop or turbojet when not considering what to do if something goes amiss. I consider forced landing sites, alternatives, and the effects of control and systems failures. Any good pilot does. However, to say that because one doesn't worry or fear the possibility of powerplant, systems, or structural failure is fatalistic, or naive, is misplaced. I am not naive, fatalistic, or misplaced.
I'll close what should have gone without saying, by adding that I don't contemplate forced landings and ditchings based on theoritical knowledge, or a simulator, or a dunk tank. I base it on actual experience. I have landed airplanes on several occasions without power due to failures. I have had 10 failures in single engine airplanes, and a host of failures in multis. I have experienced them in piston powered aircraft, turboprop powered aircraft, and have yet to experience anything highly significant in a turbojet (aside from minor system failures and a firelight). Dealing with such situations is not new, nor exciting to me. It is par for the course, and if one is prepared for the eventuality, then one need not panic at the first sign of trouble.
Part of being a professional aviator is planning such that the emergency situation be comes a matter of routine or at the worst, abnormality. I am not fatalistic, but there are far worse things than dying, and far worse things than dying in an airplane.
I'm not a fatalist, nor do I have a bad attitude. Some of my more recent work has been in an industry that has lost up to 10% of it's people on an annual basis, and could be considered by some to be high risk. Generally when an accident occurs, it's not survivable. Therefore, we train and prepare and fly such that we do all we can to avoid an accident.
However, when you're in an airplane that's not very maneuverable, that's 50 years old and spares and new parts haven't been built for 49 of those years, and you're in a tight canyon in moderate to severe turbulence in near zero visibility, with a climb capability on all engines of 100 fpm, with flames 100-200' above your working altitude, maneuvering at 200' or less, with objects flying around in there on fire the size of 2X4's and even the size of trees, in close proximity to a number of other aircraft...there are a number of factors that are outside your control.
You concentrate on what you can deal with, and do NOT worry about what you can't. There is only one way to make such an operation safe; stay on the ground. When it's one's livliehood, one doesn't sit on the ground. One is pilot, firefighter, crewchief, mechanic, navigator, and engineer, using a crew of 2 in an airplane designed to be flown by a crew of 11.
I'm far from fatalistic. However, the above is one of a number of different assignments I've had which do involve risk, much of which cannot be changed or taken away. Some has been over fire, some over water. Some over the desert, most in the mountains. Much of it has been low level. I learned to fly formation UNDER powerlines as part of learning to fly ag, and was employed in that capacity; it was my first job after high school and I started it at age 18.
Fatalistic believing that there is nothing you can do. Realistic is having been in the business and having buried enough friends and competitors to know there are times that there is nothing you can do. Realistic is knowing when those times are, and knowing enough about what you're doing to know that you needn't dwell on those times.
It's nice to always have an out. There are jobs that don't permit an out, where you are quite simply out of luck if something goes wrong. I have enough experience in those jobs to understand that, and to know that there are more important tasks to concentrate on at such times than contemplating the potential disasters that might befall me. Simply put, I do my job, and do it the best I can. Once I have done all I can, I needn't fear.
Yes, I've spent time in the water in gear, training in egress, training in survival. I've spent time in the hills in the summer and winter training in survival, and in the desert. I've spent time doing the same thing in the rainforest, and other places. I carry gear, I plan ahead.
You want fatalistic? The aircraft I flew into the fires, above, was old. Every flammable fluid and ignition source in the aircraft, safe the engine oil tanks, was in the cockpit with me. The single source of all the system hydraulics was in a tank behind me. The fuel came in from the wings, entered the boost pumps, and went back out to the wings. The boost pump boxes sat atop the inverters; a leak and there would be a fire. Every accumulator in the airplane was right behind us in the cockpit. The fuel gages were made of glass, were sight gages, and were in the cockpit. Beneath us was the APU; a 54 year old 2 cylinder ranger engine; it was directly beneath our seats. In the cockpit was a large janitrol heater, fed with avgas, in the floor, out in the open; it tended to catch fire from time to time. The wings on that airplane had a history of leakage. We did much better than the services which had them before; we didn't have nearly the problems because we took better care of the equipment, but it still wasn't unheard of to have the bomb bay fill with avgas.
Every compressed gas, every flammable fluid, every source of ignition, right there with us in the cockpit. Our egress was right in front of the #2 and #3 propellers. Historically,when those airplanes did go in, it was invariably in the conditions previously indicated. Fatalistic is knowing that eveyrbody has died. Fatalistic might even be knowing that since 1969, 135% of the tanker pilots have died. That's everybody and a third of those that started. One individual survived a P-2 wreck for almost a day, three years ago, but died on scene. (He was wearing green nomex, which made him hard to find at the wreck site, and was unable to be located prior to his death). Fatalistic is throwing one's hands in the air and stating with apathy, "oh well, I guess I'm next."
I'm not fatalistic. I'm realistic. I know the risks, and I fly such that I attempt to mitigate them. I carried a full complement of spares on board. I carried tools. I'm a fully certificated mechanic and inspector, and have had to work on the airplane in flight during malfunctions and emergencies. Being prepared means being prepared for anything, and I hardly see that as fatalistic.
However, once one has been put in the situation of making a forced landing or ditching, one knows that either it will be successful, or not. If not, then it's out of your hands. You do what you can, and if you survive, you make the best of it. If you don't, then you needn't worry because you're dead. Only your family need worry.
Should one worry about that when flying over terrain, over water, or at night? I dont' believe so. I take care of that by planning ahead where ever possible, but certainly not be worrying about it at the time. I don't spend a moment in a piston or turboprop or turbojet when not considering what to do if something goes amiss. I consider forced landing sites, alternatives, and the effects of control and systems failures. Any good pilot does. However, to say that because one doesn't worry or fear the possibility of powerplant, systems, or structural failure is fatalistic, or naive, is misplaced. I am not naive, fatalistic, or misplaced.
I'll close what should have gone without saying, by adding that I don't contemplate forced landings and ditchings based on theoritical knowledge, or a simulator, or a dunk tank. I base it on actual experience. I have landed airplanes on several occasions without power due to failures. I have had 10 failures in single engine airplanes, and a host of failures in multis. I have experienced them in piston powered aircraft, turboprop powered aircraft, and have yet to experience anything highly significant in a turbojet (aside from minor system failures and a firelight). Dealing with such situations is not new, nor exciting to me. It is par for the course, and if one is prepared for the eventuality, then one need not panic at the first sign of trouble.
Part of being a professional aviator is planning such that the emergency situation be comes a matter of routine or at the worst, abnormality. I am not fatalistic, but there are far worse things than dying, and far worse things than dying in an airplane.
