13 March 1928

Aviation, , , , , , , , ,
Eileen Vollick

13 March 1928: At Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, Miss Eileen M. Vollick passed her flight test in a Curtiss JN-4 Canuck, and was issued license number 77. She was the first woman licensed as a pilot in Canada.

The following is an article written by Eileen Vollick, prior to her death in 1968 (photographs are from various other sources):

Owen Sound Sun Times

How I became Canada’s first licensed woman pilot
EILEEN M. VOLLICK
Wednesday, August 6, 2008 10:38:00 EDT AM

“Opportunity” was calling in a thousand forms, in a new and thrilling and expanding industry- viz-commercial aviation, and I felt the urge to fly, to become a pioneer and blaze the trail for the women of my country.

Early in March, 1927, Jack V. Elliot, pioneer of commercial aviation in Canada, opened his school and clubhouse at a place called Ghent’s Crossing, overlooking Hamilton Bay. The story of that flying school and clubhouse, the first of its kind in the Dominion, will be handed down to posterity, not only on account of its pioneer proprietor, but for the reason that in the pages of Canadian Aeronautical history will be found the names of young men and incidentally one woman, whose vocations were founded on faith and the future destiny of aviation in our country’s commercial life.

A Curtiss JN-4 Canuck at the Elliott Air Service hangar, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. (National Aviation Museum)
A Curtiss JN-4 Canuck at the Elliott Air Service hangar, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. (National Aviation Museum)

My home at that time was on the Beach, and from my bedroom window I could see the activities going at the aerodrome, the cutting down of trees, the dumping of load after load of cinders, to make the track or runway, the building of the hangars, and finally the installing of the planes. Each day as I drove my car past the aerodrome a small still voice whispered “Go ahead, brave the lion in his den and make known your proposition to him.”

I proposed to learn to fly, and fearful of being turned down or laughed at (women had not then entered into this man’s game in Canada.) I hesitated, wondering how much courage or talent was required to fly an airplane. I have never been afraid to go after anything I wanted and to stay until I got it, so, as “the whispering voices”ne day I ventured into the proprietor’s den, and asked him: — “Can a girl learn to fly.” He simply smiled, thinking doubtless I was looking for a thrill, but I soon convinced him I was in earnest, and later I met the Controller of Civil Aviation, Flt. Lieut. A. T. Cowley of Ottawa, who advised me to write the Government for permission to learn to fly commercially, no woman in Canada had previously made such application, and Mr. Elliot was doubtful of my success. However, on June 14th, 1927, I was advised from Ottawa that the matter had been fully considered and in future certificates would be granted to women providing they passed the necessary tests and had reached the age of 19 years, and though it was through my efforts women were admitted into the flying game at Ottawa, had I not been first, some other enterprising girl would have paved the way to put Canadian women on a par with other countries.

I was only 18 years old at that time and could not qualify but with the official benediction over my head I made arrangements with Mr. Elliot and became an ardent disciple of his school.

Eileen M. Vollick with W. Fleming in a Jack Elliott Air Service airplane at Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, ca. 1927–28. (Canada Aviation Museum)

The instruction planes at the Elliot Air Service have a dual control and by means of specially constructed earphones on the helmet the pilot gives his instructions to the student flyer.

My first flight in the air was an epoch of my life never to be forgotten, no matter what I may achieve in the future the exhilaration of that flight will linger when all others are merely an event.

The pilot who took me aloft thought he would either frighten me or find out how much courage I possessed, for though it is against the rules to “stunt” with a passenger, it is of great value for a student and a necessary adjunctive. By “stunts” I mean “spins,” “loops,” “zooms,” all very thrilling and decidedly the acid test for a new flyer, and I got mine for half an hour, satisfying my instructor as to my flying ability.

Eileen Vollick (Canada Aviation and Space Museum)

DESCRIPTION OF MISS VOLLICK’S FIRST FLIGHT

“As I sat in the cockpit I felt quite at home, fear never entered my head and when I saw the earth recede as the winged monster roared and soared skyward, and the familiar scenes below became a vast panorama of checker- boarded fields, neatly arranged toy houses, and silvery threads of streams, the pure joy of it, gave me a thrill which is known only to the air-man who wings his way among the fleecy clouds. Perhaps the most trying sensation of a flight comes at the close, when the plane glides rapidly earthward and one feels that familiar “elevator” feeling but even that sensitiveness passes away after a few flights. A spin or a loop, though significantly spectacular from below, is a simple stunt to the aeronaut and easy to accomplish. In flying the most important factors are “taking off” and “landing.” Anyone can fly straight and keep towards the horizon, but rising from the ground and returning, is a different matter. These two factors are important tests when the government inspector examines a pilot for his or her license.”

Aviation always had a fascination for me even before I realized what a great thing had been accomplished when a motor driven vehicle could be propelled at great speed through the air, and when I actually became an active member in the field my enthusiasm knew no bounds.

I would like to write here, that, when I entered the school of aeronauts I mixed exclusively with men, no other girl or woman attended the lectures, entered the hangars or worked around the planes but myself, and from the first day when I became a student with the cadets, to the time I received my pilot’s license on March 13, 1928, there was not a man amongst them who failed to remember my sex, nor one who spoke a disrespectful word to me, yet at the same time I was one of them, joined in their discussions, donned overalls and often looked more grimy and greasy than the rest. Truly the air-men are gentlemen. Their ambitions were my ambitions, their success was my success, and each one was as eager as the other to help me in any difficulty, I had confidence in them which was never misplaced, and in the years to come when aeronautics are intelligently understood and acknowledged by the world at large, and I am only one amongst thousands of my sex who are trained flyers, my thoughts will revert to the days when I was a student flyer, and I can say then, with all my heart, “happy days, loyal friends.”

I must mention my first instructor Pilot Earl Jellison, under whose guidance I stored away knowledge which later proved invaluable. Writing from Vancouver where he was stationed Pilot Jellison sent congratulations on my success and wrote as follows: “I was very pleased with your ability last summer, and I think you know something of the confidence I had in you when you walked out on the wing to do your famous ‘parachute jump’ into Hamilton Bay.” This incident happened soon after I started to fly, and it takes a great deal of confidence to walk the wing of an airplane and jump into space, especially when the controls are in the hands of a strange pilot, but I felt no fear and evidently he felt none. A flyer must never make acquaintance with “fear” if he or she wants to become a successful pilot. I have never felt afraid, flying high or low, over land or water, and though I began my flying lessons in summer it was off the ice on Hamilton Bay that I took my solo flight, and passed the government tests. As a proof that my sense of “fear” is small, when I took the parachute jump from the wing of the plane into the waters of Hamilton Bay, from an altitude of 2,800 feet, it was a record, being the first Canadian girl to leap from a plane into water. Parachute work, however, was not my ambition. I wanted to fly.

The first Curtiss JN-4 Canuck built by Canadian Aeroplanes Limited, 1917. (Canada Aviation Museum)
The first Curtiss JN-4 Canuck built by Canadian Aeroplanes Limited, 1917. (Canada Aviation Museum)

The summer months passed too quickly. October came, and flying days were drawing to a close at the airport. Soon, the family of cadets would move from the Beach to the city . . . The first week of the New Year saw me down at the winter quarters, situated at the extreme end of Hamilton Bay, in the north section of the city. And I began the most strenuous hard work I have done during the nineteen years of my life.

The oracle of “early morning flying” is an open sesame if the student-flyer wants to become a real success, and after several flights off the ice on Hamilton Bay, I made arrangements with my instructor Pilot Richard Turner, to fly as early as possible.

This necessitated some of the mechanical crew being down at the airport long before the sun rose in the horizon to fuel the plane and warm up the motor ready for flight. It is said that an aviator or aviatrix must be ready at all times day or night whenever a call comes, and this creed is thoroughly instilled into the minds of each student. So up in the morning early, long before the streets were warmed I left my cozy cot, drove my faithful old Ford down to the airport, donned a flying-suit and with the tang of ice and frost upon pilot, plane and student, we rose from the hardened ground, and winged our way over the icy Bay, across the cold waters of Lake Ontario, back to the city, then after “landing” and “rising” several times, we flew back to port, full of early morning pep, which the sluggard abed can never fully comprehend. Once more aboard my car and back home to breakfast. Eight a. m. found me on my way to the Hamilton Cotton Co., where I was textile analyst and an assistant designer.

Flying is, and always will be, my uppermost thought, yet I never neglected my duties at the office, and when Alan V. Young, President of the Cotton Co. gave me leave of absence to try my examination tests, the time off had been well earned.

Flying in the air is not the only qualification for a pilot, he or she must have a theoretical as well as a mechanical knowledge of aircraft. Lectures for students are given three times weekly at night and students must attend regularly or lose some important part of their training. I never missed a lecture, in fact when the Aero-Club of Hamilton started their lectures at the Technical School, I made a point to attend both. I was out for knowledge on aircraft. Performance is the supreme test, and the time was drawing close when I had to prove my worth or fall down in my tracks. I was ready for a cross-country flight, which is one of the government requirements. Tuesday, February 28th, was a bright, clear, cold day, ideal flying weather, and I was bound on a glorious adventure, my cross-country test flight. Accompanied by Pilot R. Turner, we left Hamilton early in the morning, arrived at St. Thomas; landed safely at McManus Field, refuelled the plane and took off for Hamilton, completing the round trip in 2 hours and 25 minutes. After more landings, a lesson or two on the use of skiis . . . and the eventful day finished.

The government inspector had arrived and the cadets waited anxiously. Before a license can be issued, the pilot must make four landings, from a height of 1,500 feet, within 150 feet of a spot designated on the ground, one landing from 5,000 feet with the motor shut off, five figure 8 (eight) turns between two designated marks, and a 175-miles cross-country flight. The day previous to the tests I had the extreme pleasure of taking Captain G. B. Holmes, Government Inspector, for a flight, and he gave me great credit for the able manner in which I handled the plane. On March 13, 1928, (lucky day for me) along with ten other cadets of the Elliot Flying School, I successfully passed the Government Civil Aviation examination, making three three-point landings on the ice with skiis, in place of wheels, to the utmost satisfaction of Captain Holmes, and the hearty congratulations of my instructors, and fellow students.

They give credit, these loyal air-men, for having an iron nerve, and skill of an old war time pilot, “nerve” is a natural gift from God. “Skill,” I owe to my instructors, I have had three of whom I cannot speak too highly, Pilots Earl Jellison, Lennard Tripp, and Richard Turner whose invaluable assiduous instruction and help, enabled me to earn the proud title of “Canada’s First Licensed Woman Pilot” and made my dreams come true.

—http://www.owensoundsuntimes.com/2008/08/06/how-i-became-canadas-first-licensed-woman-pilot

An original 1917 Curtiss JN-4C Canuck
An original 1917 Curtiss JN-4C Canuck. (Unattributed)

Mary Eileen Vane Riley ¹ was born 2 August 1908 at Wiarton, Ontario, Dominion of Canada. She was the daughter of James Henry Riley, a laborer, and Marie Baynes Riley. Mr. Riley was killed in an accident in 1911. Mrs. Riley then married George Vollick. Miss Riley was known by her stepfather’s family name. She would have three step-siblings.

Eileen Vollick attended St. Patrick’s High School in Hamilton, Ontario, then worked as a materials analyst for the Hamilton Cotton Company.

Miss Vollick was 5 feet, 0 inches (1.52 meters) tall with brown hair and eyes, and a medium complexion.

On 28 September 1929, Miss Vollick married James Hopkin, a steamfitter who had been born in Scotland. The Hopkins moved to Elmhurst, Long Island, New York. They would have two daughters, Eileen and Audrey.

Eileen Vollick, as she is best known, died in 1968. She was buried at the Woodlawn Cemetery, Bronx, New York.

¹ Also known as Reilly. She used that version of the surname on an immigration document as she entered the United States the day following her marriage. She also stated that she was unaccompanied; marked “S.”, indicating that she was single (unmarried); and listed her new husband as a “friend” whom she planned to visit in Elmhurst, Long Island, New York.

© 2019, Bryan R. Swopes

12 March 2009

Aviation, , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Cougar Helicopters Inc. Sikorsky S-92A C-GZCH (Transport Canada)

12 March 2009: Cougar Helicopters, Inc., Flight 91 (Cougar 91), a Sikorsky S-92A helicopter, departed St. John’s International Airport (CYYT), Newfoundland, enroute to the Hibernia oil platform (the largest offshore oil platform) located 315 kilometers (196 miles) to the southeast in the Jeanne d’Arc Basin of the Grand Banks. The helicopter departed at 9:17 a.m. and climbed to its enroute cruise altitude of 9,000 feet (2,743 meters), leveling off at 9:32 a.m.

The aircraft was under the command of Captain Matthew William Davis, with First Officer Timothy Ross Lanouette. There were sixteen passengers. All on board were wearing full immersion suits.

Captain Davis had 5,997 hours of flight experience accumulated over 20 years as a professional helicopter pilot. He held a Canadian Airline Transport Pilot License with a Rotorcraft rating and was type-rated in the S-92A. He had 1,067 hours in type.

First Officer Lanouette had flown a total of 2,854 hours during 23 years with the Canadian Forces, and the 11 months he had worked for Cougar Helicopters. He also held a Canadian Airline Transport License with Rotorcraft rating. He was type-rated in the S-92A, and had 97 hours in type.

The Hibernia oil drilling and production platform, located at N. 46° 45′ 1.57″, W. 48° 46′ 58.54″, in 80 meters (262 feet) depth of water.

At 9:45:05, the crew received a series of indications of falling oil pressure in the transmission (also referred to as the main gear box, or MGB). Within 1 second, the amber CAUTION light was replaced by a red WARNING light and and audible “GEARBOX PRESSURE. . . GEARBOX PRESSURE. . .” warning. Within the next 20 seconds, the transmission oil pressure dropped from the normal range of 45–70 pounds per square inch (310.3–482.6 kilopascals) to less than 5 p.s.i. (34.5 kPa) This constituted an in-flight emergency which required that the crew land or ditch the helicopter immediately.

For the helicopter crew, ditching at sea must always be considered a life-and-death situation. At the time of the emergency, the surface weather along the route of flight was estimated as wind from the south-southeast at 22 knots (11.3 meters per second) (Beaufort Scale 6) and waves of 2.5 meters (8.2 feet) with a period of 7 seconds (Sea State 5). The water temperature was 0 °C (32 °F.). There were significant questions as to the survival chances of those on board Cougar 91.

Bristow Helicopters’ AS 332L Super Puma G-TIGK afloat in Sea State 5 conditions in the North Sea. (Air Accidents Investigation Branch)

Instead of proceeding with ditching, though, at 9:45:27, Captain Davis called Gander Area Control Center and declared an emergency:

“Gander Center, Cougar 91, mayday. Sir, we have a main gearbox oil pressure problem, request immediate clearance back to takeoff.”

The request was approved by air traffic control and Cougar 91 turned back toward St. John’s, approximately 54 nautical miles (62 miles/100 kilometers) away. Captain Davis began a descent from 9,000 feet (2,743 meters) at 9:45:31. The helicopter’s turn toward St. John’s was completed at 9:45:47.

At 9:45:58, Captain Davis told First Officer Lanouette that he was initiating a descent to the water and had Lanouette begin the emergency procedures check list.

Cockpit of a Sikorsky S-92A during a night flight over Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. (Ahmed Hader via Wikipedia)

A few minutes later, Captain Davis called Gander ACC, “I’m going to the nearest terra firma I can get. Whatever I see first, if it’s Cape Spear or a parking lot. We’ve lost all gearbox pressure at this time.”

Finishing the emergency check list, First Officer Lanouette informed Captain Davis that they were in a LAND IMMEDIATELY condition. Davis replied that he was going to level off at 1,000 feet (305 meters). At 9:51:50 the pilot increased collective pitch to stop the descent. Engine torque increased and Cougar 91 leveled off at 800 feet (244 meters).

The flight crew suspected that the low oil pressure warnings were actually a sensor problem. Their previous training had suggested that any imminent problem with the transmission would be preceded by noises and vibrations, which they had not experienced. Also, because the oil temperature indication had not increased, they suspected that the transmission had not actually lost oil at all.

At 9:55:15, power to the helicopter’s flight recorder was cut off, indicating that something had occurred. There is every indication of a tail rotor drive failure. The helicopter’s main rotor r.p.m. increased from 103% Nr to 107% Nr. Ten seconds later, 9:55:25, the helicopter yawed to the right. The pilots lowered the collective, and moved the cyclic left and added left anti-torque pedal. At 9:55:36, the first officer called Gander, saying that they were ditching. At 9:55:37, Cougar 91 rolled right and the rate of right yaw increased to nearly 4° per second. At 9:55:44, the yaw rate increased to 20° per second.

At 9:55:47, both engines were shut down.

Descending through 600 feet (183 meters), the helicopter’s airspeed was 90 knots (167 kilometers per hour). Rotor r.p.m. fluctuated between 105% and 95% as the pilots raised and lowered the collective. The S-92 appeared to be in a stable autorotation descending through 425 feet (130 meters) at 75 knots (139 kilometers per hour) with 98% Nr. It then rolled to the right, reaching a bank  angle of 57°. The main rotor accelerated back to 105%. Passing through 400 feet (122 meters) the collective was raised and the main rotor r.p.m. began to droop. The helicopter was traveling downwind at this time, with an estimated 32 knot (60 kilometers per hour) tailwind. The aircraft went through a series of extreme pitch, roll and yaw changes as the flight crew fought for control.

At 09:55:54, the crew began an autorotative flare at 220 feet (67 meters). The Sikorsky S-92A descended through 90 feet (27 meters) with a rate of descent of at least 2,300 feet per minute (11.7 meters per second), possibly much greater, and an airspeed of 66 knots (122 kilometers per hour). The main rotor was decelerating through 81% Nr. The helicopter was in a 16° nose-up attitude with a 9° left bank.

Cougar 91 hit the water at 9:56 a.m. The force of the impact was so great that the fuselage structure failed. The forward section, including the cockpit, broke off, as did the tail boom. The cabin section rolled over to the left and the aircraft sank immediately. The location was N. 47° 26′ 4.17″, W. 51° 56′ 42.53″.

A Cougar Helicopters, Inc. Sikorsky S-92, C-GSCH, configured for search-and-rescue operations. (Sikorsky, a Lockheed Martin Company)

Of the 18 persons on board Cougar 91, only one passenger—who had been seated on the right side of the passenger cabin, just forward of center, Seat 3D—survived. All others were found still strapped in their seats. They had received major lower limb fractures, spinal injuries, etc., and drowned. The survivor was rescued by Cougar Rescue 61, a company S-92A helicopter specially configured for search and rescue operations. He had been in the freezing water for approximately 1 hour, 20 minutes.

Wreckage of Cougar 91 was recovered from the sea floor at a depth of approximately 550 feet (168 meters) and returned to St. John’s for analysis.

Examination of the the helicopter’s rotor blades showed that the main rotor was turning slowly at impact, and that the tail rotor was not turning at all.

Recovered wreckage of Cougar Helicopters’ Sikorsky S-92A C-GZCH. (Transport Canada)

The investigation revealed that two of three studs attaching the transmission oil filter bowl to the transmission housing had fractured from over-stressed fatigue fractures. This allowed the transmission oil to rapidly drain. This had occurred previously with another Sikorsky S-92A, VH-LOH, which made and emergency landing in Western Australia, 2 July 2008. Sikorsky determined that the original titanium studs should be replaced with steel studs and made changes to the Aircraft Maintenance Manual procedures.

The bevel gears of the transmission’s tail rotor drive pinion were completely stripped away, as a result of frictional heating of the transmission operating without oil, and resulted in a complete loss of tail rotor drive.

During the investigation, it was determined that Cougar Helicopters had not properly followed the mandatory procedures required by the Aircraft Maintenance Manual, which were intended to discover damaged studs prior to failure.

The flight crew misunderstood the aircraft systems, which led them to misdiagnose the problem. A factor was their previous training regarding transmission noise and vibration.

The flight crew had significant trouble controlling the helicopter following the tail rotor failure. Shutting down the engines prior to lowering the collective resulted in a significant loss of rotor r.p.m. As the aircraft pitched, rolled and yawed, they were unable to turn the helicopter into the wind. They began their autorotative flare at too high an altitude with too low airspeed, which resulted in a nearly vertical impact. Because of the very low main rotor r.p.m., the impact forces were high enough to destroy the helicopter.

Sikorsky S-92. (Sikorsky, a Lockheed Martin Company)

Cougar 91 was a Sikorsky S-92A, registered C-GZCH (c/n 92-0048). The company had named the helicopter The Jeanne d’Arc Breeze. It had been completed by Sikorsky in 2006 at the Coatesville, Pennsylvania, plant, and was initially registered in the United States as N71143. The helicopter had accumulated a total of 2,194.3 flight hours (TTAF) since new, and 1,773 cycles.

The Sikorsky S-92A is a twin-engine, medium lift transport helicopter with a single main rotor and tail rotor. The tricycle landing gear is retractable. The S-92 is a development of the Sikorsky S-70 Blackhawk military utility helicopter. It is operated by a flight crew of two, and can carry nineteen passengers.

The helicopter has an overall length of 68 feet, 6 inches (20.879 meters) with rotors turning. The fuselage is 56 feet, 2 inches (17.120 meters) long, and has a maximum width across the sponsons of 12 feet, 9 inches (3.886 meters). The overall height is 17 feet, 11 inches (5.461 meters). The S-92A has an empty weight of 15,575 pounds (7,065 kilograms) and Maximum Takeoff Weight (MTOW) of 26,500 pounds (12,020 kilograms).

Sikorsky S-92 three-way illustration with dimensions (Sikorsky, a Lockheed Martin Company)

The S-92A has a four-bladed, fully-articulated main rotor with a diameter of 56 feet, 4 inches (17.170 meters). The main rotor turns counter-clockwise, as seen from above. (The advancing blade is on the helicopter’s right side.) The blade tips are swept aft 30° and have 20° anhedral. The four-bladed tail rotor has a diameter of 11 feet, 0 inches (3.353 meters) and is mounted on the right side of the tail rotor pylon in tractor configuration. It is canted 30° to the left, allowing it to generate left as well as anti-torque thrust. The tail rotor turns clockwise as seen from the helicopter’s left. (The advancing blade is below the axis of rotation.)

Power is supplied by two General Electric CT7-8A turboshaft engines rated at 2,740 shaft horsepower, each. This is a single-spool, front-drive, free-turbine engine with a 5-stage axial-flow, 1-stage centrifugal-flow compressor section, and a 2-stage gas generator turbine and 2-stage free power turbine. The engine is equipped with a Full-Authority Digital Engine Control (FADEC) system. The CT7-8A is 4 feet, 0.8 inches (1.240 meters) long, 2 feet, 2.0 inches (0.660 meters) wide and 2 feet, 1.0 inches (0.635 meters) high. It weighs 542.0 pounds (245.8 kilograms).

The CT7-8A has a Maximum Continuous Power rating of 1,523 shaft horsepower at 44,660 r.p.m., Ng (22,200 r.p.m., Np). The Takeoff Power rating is 1,879 shaft horsepower for Take-off (5-minute limit). For emergency situations, the engine can produce 2,043 shaft horsepower at 46,340 r.p.m., Ng, for 30 seconds (One Engine Inoperative, or OEI).

The Sikorsky S-92A has a maximum continuous cruise speed of 151 knots (280 kilometers per hour). Its maximum speed, VNE, is 165 knots (306 kilometers per hour). The service ceiling is 15,000 feet (4,572 meters). It can hover in ground effect (HIGE) at 9,200 feet (2,804 meters), and out of ground effect (HOGE) at 6,700 feet (2,042 meters). With one engine inoperative, the helicopter’s service ceiling is 5,500 feet (1,676 meters). The maximum range, with 30-minute fuel reserve, is 480 nautical miles (889 kilometers).

Sikorsky S-92. (Sikorsky, a Lockheed Martin Company)

The S-92A is certified for Category A operations, meaning that, if one engine fails during takeoff, it can either return to the takeoff point or continue to fly away on the remaining engine.

Depending on installed equipment, the S-92A can make an emergency ditching in up to Sea State 5 or 6. (Sea State 5, is defined as “rough” with wave heights from 2.5–4.0 meters, Sea State 6 is 4–6 meters, and “very rough”.)

More than 300 Sikorsky S-92s have been built in both civil and military variants since 1998. It remains in production, and has been selected as the next U.S. presidential helicopter, currently designated as VH-92A.

Sikorsky VH-92A

© 2019 Bryan R. Swopes

12 March 1969

Aviation, , , ,
Lockheed AH-56A Cheyenne (Lockheed Martin)

12 March 1969: At 11:56 a.m., a prototype Lockheed AH-56 Cheyenne compound helicopter, serial number 66-8828 (manufacturer’s serial number 1003), was destroyed during a test flight off the coast of Southern California. The test pilot, David A. Beil, was killed.

The Los Angeles Times reported:

Pilot Killed in Crash of Experimental Helicopter

CARPINTERIA — An experimental helicopter under test for the Army caught fire, exploded and crashed in the sea half a mile off the community of Santa Claus, two miles north of here, Wednesday.

The pilot, identified as David Beil, 32, of Thousand Oaks by a spokesman for Lockheed-California Co., which was testing the aircraft, was killed.

Lockheed-California described the helicopter as an AH-56A Cheyenne, a rotary-winged craft with a short fixed wing and two rotors.

It was a two-place ship but only the pilot was aboard as it flew along the coast, simulating low-level military attack, with a chase plane close behind.

Witnesses on the beach said the aircraft suddenly began to trail a plume of smoke and that flames appeared. They heard an explosion, and one of them, Jack Hamm, said:

“The tail rotor separated and fell, and the whole aircraft was falling apart, I saw no survivors.”

The fuselage apparently sank, but searchers recovered some wreckage and portions of a body. Part of a helmet stenciled with Beil’s name was washed up on the beach.

An engineering test pilot for Lockheed, Beil was a veteran of the war in Vietnam, the spokesman said.

The helicopter took off from the company’s test facility at the Ventura County Airport in Oxnard. It had been making flights over the coast for about two months.

—Los Angeles Times, Thursday, 13 March 1969, Part II, Page 8, Columns 1–2

A prototype Lockheed AH-56A Cheyenne compound helicopter, just northwest of Ventura County Airport (now, Oxnard Airport, OXR), Oxnard, California, circa 1969. (Lockheed Martin)

A U.S. Army investigation found that while flying at a speed of 190 knots the helicopter’s main rotor blades began oscillating up to 3 feet vertically at the tips, and struck both the tail boom and the cockpit. In a 7 October 1969 article, the Los Angeles Times wrote:

“When the blades dipped that low, they sliced through the fuselage both ahead of and behind the blade pylon. When they sliced through the fuselage forward of the pylon on which they were mounted, they struck the body of pilot Beil, the report indicated.“

David A. Beil had been copilot of Dawdling Dromedary, a U.S. Navy Sikorsky SH-3A Sea King which flew from the aircraft carrier USS Hornet (CVS-12) at San Diego, California, to the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt (CVA-42) at Mayport, Florida, non-stop, 6 March 1965. (See TDiA, 6 March 1965)

A Lockheed AH-56A Cheyenne firing rockets during flight testing. (U.S. Army)

The Lockheed AH-56A Cheyenne was a two-place, single-engine, compound helicopter, developed by the Lockheed-California Company for the United States Army. Ten prototypes were built at Lockheed’s plant at Van Nuys Airport (VNY). It had a four-bladed rigid main rotor, a stub wing, a four-bladed tail rotor and a three-bladed pusher propeller.

The Cheyenne is 54 feet, 8 inches (16.662 meters) long, and 13 feet, 8.5 inches (4.178 meters) high. The main rotor has a diameter of 51 feet, 3 inches (15.621 meters). The prototype empty weight is 12,215 pounds (5,540.6 kilograms), and maximum takeoff weight is 25,880 pounds (11,739 kilograms).

© 2022, Bryan R. Swopes

12 March 1967

Aviation, , , , , , , , , , , ,

McDonnell F-4D Phantom II 66-7554. (Boeing)
McDonnell F-4D-30-MC Phantom II 66-7533, the 2,000th Phantom. (Boeing)

12 March 1967: McDonnell Aircraft Corporation, St. Louis, Missouri, delivered the 2,000th F-4 Phantom II to the United States Air Force. F-4D-30-MC 66-7533, c/n 2062, was assigned to the 40th Tactical Fighter Squadron, 33rd Tactical Fighter Wing, at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida.

On 26 May 1967, the personnel and equipment of the 40th TFS were transferred to the 8th Fighter Wing based in Thailand. The aircraft were deployed across the Pacific Ocean, 26–28 May, with flights to Hickam Air Force Base, Honolulu, Hawaii; Anderson Air Force Base, Guam; and Ubon-Rachitani Royal Thai Air Force Base, Thailand. On 25 July 1967, an additional twenty F-4Ds arrived at Ubon RTAFB, having been transferred from the 4th TFS. 66-7533 was included in this later group of Phantoms.¹

On 19 September 1967, the 2,000th Phantom II was being flown by Major Lloyd Warren Boothby and 1st Lieutenant George H. McKinney, Jr., of the 435th Tactical Fighter Squadron. Following a Rolling Thunder attack on railroad sidings at Trung Quang, about 10 miles (16.1 kilometers) north of Phúc Yên, 66-7533 was hit in the right wing by a 57 mm anti-aircraft cannon shell. The airplane was badly damaged but “Boots” Boothby fought to keep it under control for as long as possible. Finally, he and McKinney were forced to eject, having come within about 35 miles (56.3 kilometers) of their base.

At the time of its loss, 66-7533 had accumulated 155 flight hours on its airframe (TTAF).

Distinguished Flying Cross

For their airmanship in trying to save their airplane, Major Boothby and Lieutenant McKinney were each awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, which was presented to them by President Lyndon B. Johnson, 23 December 1967, in a pre-dawn ceremony at Korat Royal Thai Air Force Base.

Lieutenant McKinney is quoted in USAF F-4 Phantom II MiG Killer 1965–1968:

“In the hail of AAA over the target seven miles north of Hanoi on that day was a ‘Golden BB’ which opened a three-foot hole in the Phantom II’s right wing, froze the right spoiler full up, immediately drained two of the three hydraulic systems and generally turned the day to crap! I mumbled an egress heading (and a few dozen prayers) while ‘Boots’ used every increment of incredible aviation instincts, honed by countless hours at the edge of the envelope, to keep the F-4 airborne and headed away from the ‘Hanoi Hilton.’ Doing so required full manual depression of the left rudder pedal, and holding the stick within one inch of the left limit of travel.

“Despite the physical exertion, coupled with the precise touch necessary to remain airborne as the Black River receded behind the crippled Phantom II and rescue became at least a possibility, ‘Boots” managed to announce to the world on ‘Guard’ channel that they had so many warning lights lit up that it ‘looks like we’ve won a free game at the arcade.’ “

—USAF F-4 Phantom II MiG Killer 1965–1968, by Peter E. Davies, Osprey Publishing, 2004, at Page 75.

[A number of sources state that Lt. McKinney did not survive the ejection, but this is incorrect. Both pilots were rescued by helicopter. McKinney went on to earn credit for 2.5 kills as a Weapons System Officer, and returned for another combat tour as an F-4 aircraft commander.]

Boothby
Lieutenant Colonel Lloyd Warren Boothby, United States Air Force

WASHINGTON (AFPN) — I’d hate to see an epitaph on a fighter pilot’s tombstone that says, “I told you I needed training”. . . How do you train for the most dangerous game in the world by being as safe as possible? When you don’t let a guy train because it’s dangerous, you’re saying, “Go fight those lions with your bare hands in that arena, because we can’t teach you to learn how to use a spear. If we do, you might cut your finger while you’re learning.” And that’s just about the same as murder. —Lt. Col. Lloyd “Boots” Boothby, April 17, 1931, to Nov. 26, 2006

That quote may seem a little extreme, but Colonel Boothby was referring to the Air Force’s urgent need to improve fighter tactics training, balanced against safety, but not at the expense of effectiveness.

Colonel Boothby, who passed away Nov. 26, was an experienced combat pilot and an academic instructor in the 57th Fighter Weapons Wing in the early 1970s. He looked at the Air Force’s declining kill ratio from Korea to Vietnam which was 2.4 to 1 in Vietnam compared to 8 to 1 in the Korean War. He led the effort to fix it. This involved several key steps, starting with a thorough analysis of the engagements over Vietnam.

Colonel Boothby led a series of studies at the Tactical Fighter Weapons Center, which were part of Project Red Baron, examining each of the war’s air-to-air battles. While the subsequent reports noted many accomplishments and even more lessons learned, they highlighted several significant trends. The colonel’s team discovered that pilots of multi-role fighters tended to have such a diverse range of missions that they seldom had a chance to master air combat tactics. They also noted pilots who were shot down rarely saw the enemy aircraft or even knew they were being engaged.

Additionally, few U.S. pilots, before flying into combat, had any experience against the equipment, tactics or capabilities of the enemy’s smaller, highly maneuverable fighters.

In short, the Red Baron Reports called for “realistic training (that) can only be gained through study of, and actual engagements with, possessed enemy aircraft or realistic substitutes.”

Based on this report and Colonel Boothby’s persuasiveness to get himself and Capt. Roger Wells access to an intelligence organization’s restricted collection of Soviet equipment, training manuals and technical data, they developed the dissimilar air combat training, or DACT, program to meet the Tactical Air Command’s initiative of “Readiness through Realism.”

Under the DACT program, Air Force officials had some T-38s painted with Soviet-style paint schemes and flew them based on adopted Soviet tactics.

Northrop F-5E Tiger II 74-01561 of the 64th Fighter Weapons Squadron, 57th Fighter Weapons Wing, in October 1976. (U.S. Air Force)

Because of his combat experience, academic instructor background, and involvement in Project Red Baron and in developing the DACT program, Colonel Boothby served as the first aggressor squadron’s commander when the 64th Fighter Weapons Squadron activated Oct. 15, 1972.

As an instructor, Colonel Boothby proved himself an effective teacher who relished the attention of his captive audience. Ever-animated and quick with a joke or “fighter” story to make a point, he told the pilots he was instructing what they needed to know to succeed. These qualities ensured his students’ attention remained spellbound and eager.

One former student recalled one of the colonel’s more popular attention steps. In typical fighter pilot stance, using his hands to represent a dogfight, he would spray lighter fluid from his mouth across his right hand (palming a lighter at the time) and literally flame the left hand and wristwatch bogie. He generally walked away with a few singed hairs on his hand, but his students received a magnificent visual demonstration of the seriousness of air combat.

Such object lessons ensured this charismatic instructor’s students learned and retained the knowledge they might need to save their lives one day.

Upon learning of Colonel Boothby’s death recently, Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. T. Michael Moseley noted:

“He. . . had an impact on how we do business and how we think about this air combat work. Folks out there like [Colonel Richard] Moody Suter and Boots Boothby have left a true legacy. I know one Texas public school-educated, land grant college graduate, F-15 weapons officer, Fighter Weapons Instructor Course instructor and ex-57th Wing commander who has certainly benefited from folks like this.”

—Ellery Wallwork, Air Force History Office, 5 December 2006

Fred Straile (at far right) with the 2,000th Phantom, F-4D 66-7533. (Fred C. Straile Collection)

Colonel Lloyd Warren Boothby passed away 26 November 2006, and Lieutenant Colonel George H. McKinney, Jr., 28 May, 2019.

¹ Mr. F.C. Straile informed me that he crewed McDonnell F-4D Phantom II 66-7533 with the 4th Tactical Fighter Squadron at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, and transferred along with it to the 435th TFS at Ubon RTAFB. Thanks, Mr. Straile!

© 2017, Bryan R. Swopes

12 March 1955

Aviation, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Jean Boulet (1920–2011)
Chief Test Pilot Jean Boulet (1920–2011)

12 March 1955:  Société nationale des constructions aéronautiques du Sud-Est (SNCASE) Chief Test Pilot Jean Boulet and Flight Test Engineer Henri Petit made the first flight of the SE.3130 Alouette II prototype, F-WHHE, at Buc Airfield, near Paris, France.

Powered by a Societé Anonyme Turboméca Artouste II B1 turboshaft engine, the Alouette II was the first gas turbine powered helicopter to enter series production. SNCASE would become Aérospatiale, later, Eurocopter, and is now Airbus Helicopters.

SNCASE SE.3130 Alouette II No. 01 prototype, F-WHHF, with test pilot Jean Boulet and Henri Petit, 12 March 1955. (Eurocopter)
SNCASE SE.3130 Alouette II No. 01 prototype, F-WHHE, with test pilot Jean Boulet and Henri Petit, 12 March 1955. (Airbus Helicopters)

The Alouette II is a 5-place light helicopter operated by a single pilot. The fuselage is 31 feet, 8.5 inches (9.665 meters) long. The landing skids have a width of 6 feet, 10 inches (2.083 meters). With rotors turning, the overall length of the Alouette II is 39 feet, 6.5 inches (12.052 meters). Its height is 9 feet, 0.25 inches (2.750 meters) to the top of the main rotor mast. (Optional wide-track skids, or installation of an Alouette III three-blade tail rotor will change dimensions slightly.)

The three-bladed fully-articulated main rotor has a diameter of 33 feet, 5.5 inches (10.198 meters). It turns clockwise, as seen from above. (The advancing blade is on the left side of the helicopter.) Normal main rotor speed, NR, is 350–360 r.p.m. In autorotation, the allowable range is 280–420 r.p.m. The two-blade anti-torque rotor is 5 feet, 11.5 inches (1.816 meters) in diameter and turns clockwise, as seen from the helicopter’s left side. (The advancing blade is below the axis of rotation.) The tail rotor turns at 2,020 r.p.m.

The SE.3130 has an empty weight of 1,934 pounds (877 kilograms), depending on installed equipment, and minimum operating weight of 2,050 pounds (930 kilograms). The maximum permissible weight is 3,300 pounds (1,497 kilograms).

SNCASE SE.3130 No. 01, F-WHHE. (Airbus Helicopters)

The prototype was powered by one Turboméca Artouste II B1 turboshaft engine. The Artouste II B1 is a single-shaft turboshaft engine with a single-stage centrifugal flow compressor section and a three-stage axial-flow turbine. The turbine drives both the compressor and an output drive shaft through reduction gearbox. As installed in the Alouette II, the engine was certified for operation at 33,000–34,000 r.p.m (N1), with transient overspeeds to 35,000 r.p.m. It is capable of producing 400 shaft horsepower, but was derated to 360 shaft horsepower at 5,780 r.p.m. (N2) for installation in the Alouette II.

SE.3130 Alouette II three-view illustration with dimensions. (SNCASE)

The helicopter has an economical cruise speed of 92 knots (106 miles per hour/170 kilometers per hour) at 33,000 r.p.m., and a maximum speed (VNE) of 105 knots (121 miles per hour/194 kilometers per hour) at Sea Level, which decreases with altitude. Sideward or rearward flight (or operation in tailwinds or crosswinds) is limited to 18 knots (20 miles per hour/33 kilometers per hour).

The Allouette II is limited to a maximum operating altitude of 14,800 feet (4,511 meters). At 1,350 kilograms (2,976 pounds) the Alouette II has a hover ceiling in ground effect, HIGE, of 3,400 meters (11,155 feet) and hover ceiling out of ground effect of 1,900 meters (6,234 feet). At 1,500 kilograms the Alouette II’s HIGE is 2,000 meters (6,560 feet) and HOGE is 600 meters (1,968 feet).

The SE.3130 Alouette was in production from 1956 until 1975. It was marketed in the United States by the Republic Aviation Corporation’s Helicopter Division. More than 1,300 of these helicopters were built.

Jean Boulet hovers the prototype SE.3130 Alouette II, F-WHHF, 12 March 1955. (Eurocopter)
Jean Boulet hovers the prototype SNCASE SE.3130 No. 01, F-WHHE. (Airbus Helicopters)

Jean Ernest Boulet was born 16 November 1920, in Brunoy, southeast of Paris, France. He was the son of Charles-Aimé Boulet, an electrical engineer, and Marie-Renée Berruel Boulet.

He graduated from Ecole Polytechnique in 1940 and the Ecole Nationale Supérieure de l’aéronautique In 1942. (One of his classmates was André Edouard Turcat, who would also become one of France’s greatest test pilots.)

Following his graduation, Boulet joined the Armée de l’Air (French Air Force)and was commissioned a sous-lieutenant. He took his first flight lesson in October. After the surrender of France in the Nazi invaders, Boulet’s military career slowed. He applied to l’Ecole Nationale Supérieure de l’Aéronautique in Toulouse for post-graduate aeronautical engineering. He completed a master’s degree in 1943.

During this time, Boulet joined two brothers with La Resistance savoyarde, fighting against the German invaders as well as French collaborators.

In 1943, Jean Boulet married Mlle Josette Rouquet. They had two sons, Jean-Pierre and Olivier.

In February 1945, Sous-lieutenant Boulet was sent to the United States for training as a pilot. After basic and advanced flight training, Boulet began training as a fighter pilot, completing the course in a Republic P-47D Thunderbolt. He was then sent back to France along with the other successful students.

On 1 February 1947 Jean Boulet joined Société nationale des constructions aéronautiques du Sud-Est (SNCASE) as an engineer and test pilot. He returned to the United States to transition to helicopters. Initially, Boulet and another SNCASE pilot were sent to Helicopter Air Transport at Camden Central Airport,  Camden, New Jersey, for transition training in the Sikorsky S-51. An over-enthusiastic instructor attempted to demonstrate the Sikorsky to Boulet, but lost control and crashed. Fortunately, neither pilot was injured. Boulet decided to go to Bell Aircraft at Niagara Falls, New York, where he trained on the Bell Model 47. He was awarded a helicopter pilot certificate by the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration, 23 February 1948.

Test pilot Jean Boulet (center), with Mme. Boulet and the world-record-setting Alouette II.

As a test pilot Boulet made the first flight in every helicopter produced by SNCASE, which would become Sud-Aviation and later, Aérospatiale (then, Eurocopter, and now, Airbus Helicopters).

While flying a SE 530 Mistral fighter, 23 January 1953, Boulet entered an unrecoverable spin and became the first French pilot to escape from an aircraft by ejection seat during an actual emergency. He was awarded the Médaille de l’Aéronautique.

Jean Boulet was appointed Chevalier de la légion d’honneur in 1956, and in 1973, promoted to Officier de la Légion d’honneur.

Jean Boulet had more than 9,000 flight hours, with over 8,000 hours in helicopters. He set 24 Fédération Aéronautique Internationale world records for speed, distance and altitude. Four of these are current.

Jean Boulet wrote L’Histoire de l’Helicoptere: Racontée par ses Pionniers 1907–1956, published in 1982 by Éditions France-Empire, 13, Rue Le Sueuer, 75116 Paris.

Jean Ernest Boulet died at Aix-en-Provence, in southern France, 15 February 2011, at the age of 90 years.

© 2019, Bryan R. Swopes