WHEELS-UP
LANDING - MIRAGE A3-16
by
Nick Ford
At
approximately 1050hrs on the 24th October 1974, I landed
“wheels-up” at Tullamarine Airport in Mirage A3-16. I forgot
to lower my wheels which caused this accident. Since I was
the only one who could have lowered the wheels, I was fully
responsible for this accident.
I also had the dubious “honour” of becoming the first Mirage
pilot in the world to survive a “wheels-up” landing. The
RAAF had been told that several French pilots were killed
attempting to land “wheels-up” before the French made it
compulsory to eject rather than land. As a consequence,
RAAF pilots were forbidden to intentionally land “wheels-up”.
Accompanying this advice was a macabre description of the
death of these pilots – their spines were driven up into
their brains. Having survived my landing, I now doubt the
veracity of much of this French tale.
| This
diagram of the Tullamarine runways appeared in a 1974
Visual Flight Guide and is supplied courtesy of the
Civil Aviation Historical Society. The red dot shows
the approximate location where A3-16 came to rest on
Runway 34 having used only 2,300 feet of the total length
of 12,000 feet. |
The Landing:
The Board of Inquiry found that my aircraft touched down
at the 480 foot mark from the end of the runway three feet
left of the centreline (my intention was to land at the
500 foot mark on the centreline). The total landing roll
– or should I say landing “slide” – was 1820 feet.[1]
After the French tales, which talked of the Mirages slamming
into the runway, surprisingly the nose of my aircraft contacted
the ground at the 1000 foot mark in this slide showing that
the nose was in effect lowered onto the runway by me during
the landing. There was no slamming!
The aircraft came to a stop in good shape. It was resting
on its two supersonic wing tanks and an empty bomb beam
attached to the centreline of the aircraft. On vacating
the aircraft and walking around the aircraft, I found there
was a small fire (an area of a quarter of a square metre,
flames 5-7cm high) under the rocket bay tank. The rocket
bay tank was the first part of the aircraft to make contact
with the runway and in the process a fuel line had been
cracked and was dripping fuel into this small fire.
This small fire was put out by the firemen when they arrived
on the scene. I will talk a little more about the actions
of the firemen later.
The Flying Sortie:
Because Laverton’s runways were too short, all Mirage operations
(by both RAAF and GAF pilots) were flown out of Avalon airfield.
In the case of an emergency or bad weather the only suitable
alternative airfield was Tullamarine Airport. Unfortunately,
because this civilian airfield did not have a TACAN (navigation
and landing aid) or a precision radar to allow a GCA (Ground
Controlled Approach), Mirage pilots had little that could
be used to allow a safe landing at Tullamarine in bad weather.
The only available option was to use the approach radar
to line us up with the centreline of the runway and have
the air traffic controller tell us the distance out from
the threshold. Using this radar, it had been found that
an experienced controller could line us up with the centreline
of the runway plus or minus 150 metres. An inexperienced
controller’s error could be plus or minus 500 metres. Pilots
would organise their own descent and hopefully, on breaking
out of low cloud, they could correct the left/right errors
and land safely. The larger the error the harder it was
to land safely. It behove the RAAF to give the CAA air traffic
controllers as much practice at these approaches as practicable.
On this day I was authorised for a “General Flying” sortie.
There was good weather, no cloud (CAVOK), with 30-40kts
northerly winds with some gusts up to 50kts. I was told
to make one radar controlled approach to Tullamarine to
help train the approach controllers. It was suggested I
do this first before returning to the Avalon area for the
rest of the sortie.
Straight after take-off, the Avalon Tower controller passed
me to the Melbourne Approach controller who controlled me
until late finals when he passed me to the Tullamarine Tower
controller for my landing.
The Radar Control Pattern:
The pattern
we were required to fly at Tullamarine was a very large
rectangle overlaid on the runway.[1]
It was at least two times larger than our military patterns.
However, this pattern gave the controller ample time and
distance to precisely line us up with the centreline of
the runway. Since that was the primary aim, we did not complain
about the size of the pattern although it consumed a lot
of fuel – something fighter pilots are sensitive about.
In all my time at ARDU, I had never done a “straight in”
approach on runway 34.
As Avalon and our training areas were south of Tullamarine,
we would always approach from the south. If we were landing
to the south (on runway 16) we would be flown to a path
well west of the airport that was parallel with 16. This
was in effect a “downwind leg”. We were then turned east
through 90 degrees on a long “base leg” which was then used
to turn south and intercept the extended centreline about
15nm out from the threshold of 16.
Landing to the north, which was to happen on the accident
day, the pattern was more laborious as it consisted of flying
on all four legs on the large rectangle. Once again we would
be flown west of the airport, then turned east to eventually
turn south ending up well east and parallel to the runway
as a “downwind leg” for runway 34. The approach to runway
34 was complicated by the light aircraft corridor that ran
approximately east west, and from memory was approximately
six miles south of the runway.[1]
By taking us east, this path allowed us to avoid the light
aircraft corridor, allowed us to descend to 1500 feet, and
gave the controller the greatest distance, although limited,
to accurately line us up on the extended centreline of the
runway.
Unfortunately for a lot of people, this pattern was not
used on the day of the accident.
How Did This Accident Happen?
This is the most often asked question about this inexplicable
accident. Having put just a few thoughts into answering
this question during the past few decades, I find it helpful
to use a flight safety tool called the “Causation Chain
of the Accident”. Every accident has a causation chain made
of links that led to the accident. If any one of these links
had been broken the accident might not have occurred. Two
points need to be made when using a causation chain.
First, it is not to be used to attribute blame – especially
in this accident. I was the only person that could put down
the undercarriage. I failed to do so, and caused the accident
all by myself! Secondly, one of the major roles of flight
safety is to prevent more accidents. So they use the causation
chain to identify areas that can be improved which will
prevent future accidents. They do not attribute blame using
this tool.
THE CAUSATION CHAIN
On my accident, the Flight Safety people identified a causation
chain that had the following six links;
|
1
|
Inappropriate
CAA Rules for Mirage Operations. |
|
2
|
Non-standard
Landing Pattern. |
|
3
|
Non
Standard descent profile. |
|
4
|
Late
handover of the aircraft between Approach and Tower
controllers. |
|
5
|
Non
Standard “Clearance to Land”. |
|
6
|
Light
Aircraft Corridor. |
CAA Rules for Mirage Operations:
Before
discussing this causation link, two characteristics of the
Mirage need to be understood.
The Mirage was built for speed – high speed. It was a beautiful
aircraft, but it only reflected its graces when it flew over
300 knots. Below that speed the delta wing produced drag –
lots of it. This characteristic encouraged pilots to refer
to it as a “flying speed brake” when it was below 300 knots.
Below 300 knots this drag caused it to chew up fuel. Because
of this high speed design it probably had the fastest take-off
and landing speed of any operational fighter aircraft in the
world [1].
The second characteristic was the first part of a two part
system that helped prevent pilots from unintentionally landing
“wheels-up”. The upper speed limit for lowering the undercarriage
was 240 knots. The aircraft had a large flashing red undercarriage
warning light that came on once you were below 240 knots,
without the undercarriage down, and if the engine was not
at high power. In these conditions the aircraft “thought”
you wanted to land and would remind you that you had not
lowered the undercarriage. This was a fairly standard warning
light system used in most aircraft. There was no aural warning
system.
However, operating within 50 nm of Tullamarine, and below
10,000 feet, CAA required all aircraft to fly under 250 knots
to help air traffic controllers manage aircraft movements.[1]
This restriction had little effect on most military or commercial
aircraft but did have two significant impacts on Mirage operations.
The bulk of Mirage operations flying out of Avalon were
carried out within this restricted area. Consequently, Mirages
were mostly flown below 250 knots as “flying speed brakes”
using a lot of fuel which significantly reduced sortie lengths.
A speed of 300 knots would have been more appropriate as
this was the minimum drag speed.
More importantly, by flying below 250 knots the undercarriage
warning light was on most of the time and, after a very
short time of operating out of Avalon, Mirage pilots learnt
to ignore it. In my accident flight, shortly after take-off
when I cut the afterburner and pulled back power to stay
below 250 knots, the undercarriage warning light came on
and probably remained flashing for the whole of my sortie.
I don’t know for sure because, like all other Mirage pilots
operating in Melbourne, I had learnt to ignore this warning
light.
In conclusion, by requiring Mirages to fly below 250 knots
within their operating area, inadvertently the CAA had significantly
reduced the effectiveness of one of the two systems designed
to prevent wheels-up landings in Mirages.
Non-Standard Landing Pattern:
On the day of the accident, because of the strong winds,
I knew I would be landing on runway 34 and I expected to
fly clockwise on every side of the large rectangular pattern
before lining up with the extended centreline of the runway.
I was very interested in how well the radar controller executed
this last part of the flight but was facing a fairly boring
60nm trip at 240kts getting to this point. After leaving
Avalon, the Approach controller initially directed me to
the west indicating that I was to fly the standard pattern.
However, while still some way south of the standard pattern,
the controller turned me right which had me pointed at the
eastern side of the rectangular pattern. I assumed there must
be an aircraft on the west side that they wanted to avoid
and I assumed that they were taking me east to go around the
standard rectangular pattern counter clockwise instead of
clockwise. I settled down as I still had a 60nm slow trip
ahead of me. Unbeknown to me, my controller was a student
with an instructor standing behind him. This student was not
going to use the standard pattern I was expecting.
I was flying at 3,000 feet to go over the light aircraft corridor
which was perfectly normal. The first indication that something
abnormal was about to happen, came as I was approaching the
light aircraft corridor. The controller turned me left which
had me pointing at the threshold of 34. He then started the
hard work of fine tuning the direction changes to keep me
on the extended centreline.
Several things dawned on me all at the same time. First,
we were no longer going around the whole standard rectangular
pattern - he was directing me for a straight in approach.
Second, we were already at a very short distance from the
threshold of runway 34. Third, he was keeping me high to
avoid the light aircraft corridor which meant I was going
to have an exciting descent to get back to the normal glide
path at the right speed for me to be able to do a “touch
and go” landing. In summary, I went from full “ho hum” mode
of a boring 60nm trip to a “get yourself organised ASAP”
mode, if I was to have any chance of landing at Tullamarine.
My concerns started to grow when we cleared the light aircraft
corridor but he continued to hold me at 3,000 feet. As a
student, he was probably being cautious making sure he was
well clear of the light aircraft corridor before allowing
me to descend and was slow to adapt to the faster Mirage
speed.
The Flight Safety people pointed out at this stage that
every pilot uses a generic landing pattern and performs
his landing checks at the same position in this pattern
every time. For example, a Mirage pilot that “pitches out”
into the circuit will be triggered to do his landing checks
on downwind when his speed comes below 240 knots (NB. At
the same time the undercarriage warning light starts to
flash). If he is doing a straight in approach a Mirage pilot
slows down and puts the undercarriage down about 10nm point
from the runway.
This routine helps the pilot to “remember” to do these checks.
The controller, on this occasion, had bypassed both these
points. This would mean that under a high workload or with
any sort of distraction the pilot would be less likely to
remember to do his landing checks.
Non-Standard Descent Profile:
A normal descent profile for a Mirage starts at 5nm from
the threshold at an altitude of 1,500 feet. Depending on
winds this would have a Mirage descending at approximately
700 feet per minute.
However, on this day, with the delayed permission to descend,
I was already within 5nm and then was only allowed to descend
to 2,000 feet. When I was three miles from touchdown I was
allowed to descend to 1,500 feet. Shortly afterwards I was
cleared to descend and was passed over to the Tower controller
at two miles from touchdown. At different stages of this
staggered descent I was descending at rates up to 3,000
feet per minute. This would have been difficult, if not
impossible, for most other aircraft but luckily I was in
a “flying speed brake”. Although challenging, the Mirage
aerodynamics made this possible. I finally arrived on the
correct flight path at the correct speed one mile short
of the threshold.
Because of the Approach controller’s inexperience, the non-standard
approach and the Mirage’s faster speed, this student was getting
“behind the eight ball”. As a result, he transferred me to
the Tower controller at a very late stage on finals (i.e.
2nm). Unbeknown to both of us, this Tower controller was also
a student with an instructor standing beside him. This late
transfer immediately put this other student under pressure.
The Flight Safety people believed that if I had been on
a standard descent I would have realised that I was using
significantly less power to remain on the glide path. Then
I might have realised the aircraft had less drag, which
in turn would then have led me to discover my undercarriage
was still up.
However, I was on a non-standard descent profile – in fact
one that I had never seen before. Consequently, I was unable
to recognise any indications that my undercarriage was still
up.
Late Handover of the Aircraft between Approach and Tower
Controllers:
Both
the student Approach controller and the student Tower controller
were above average students. However, as all inexperienced
students are, they were cautious as they tried hard to do
the right thing, and were slightly slow in their decision
making and making their radio calls. This slowness gradually
snowballed and put them under more pressure exacerbating
their poor responses.
Through all this, my Mirage was travelling at a faster speed
than speeds they were used to, which contributed to accelerating
this snowballing effect.
For example, the student Approach controller should have
decided earlier to make a "straight in" approach which
would have allowed him to position me on the centreline,
say at 15nm (instead of 6nm). This would have eased his
workload considerably and may even have triggered me to
do my landing checks realising much earlier that I was on
a "straight in" approach.
He was slow in clearing me to descend, and then staggered
this descent, which then put him under pressure to make
a timely transfer to the Tower controller. The very late
handover to the Tower controller (2 nm out) immediately
put that controller under pressure to complete his job in
a timely manner. I was half a mile out at 100 feet about
to "go around" when I was finally given clearance
to land. This clearance would normally have been given 4-5nm
out. [1] With more time, the Tower
instructor could have corrected his student’s error of omitting
the "Check wheels" call and told me to "go
around" which would have prevented the accident with
time to spare.
As the pilot, I was "champing at the bit" to receive
a descent clearance, a transfer to the Tower, and to receive
a clearance to land. All this was delayed and was a distraction
that was not needed in this accident.
Non Standard
"Clearance to Land":
The
Mirage aircraft has a "fool proof" system to prevent
unintentional wheels-up landings. I can see you smiling
as you realise that these words were written by a fool that
beat the "fool proof" system. However, even after
my accident, I still believe it is the best system in the
world. And to back up my boast, I should point out that
I am the only "fool" to beat the system. An understanding
of the history of attempts to prevent wheels-up accidents
is needed.
First, pilots were on their own and had to remember to lower
the undercarriage – there were many unintentional wheels-up
landings. The engineers then provided both visual and then
aural warnings to the pilot when it was thought he might
have unintentionally left the undercarriage up. This reduced
the number of accidents.
Then a significant breakthrough was made when air traffic
controllers were asked to have the pilots check their wheels
before landing. On the introduction of this procedure, the
American civilian and military operators measured a significant
reduction in accidents. This was attributed to the fact
that a person outside the “environment” of the cockpit was
involved and could not be distracted by whatever was happening
in the cockpit leading to such accidents.
To produce their "fool proof" system, the Mirage
engineers introduced a third party to further enhance safety.
When a Mirage pilot is cleared to land and is asked to "Check
wheels", he does not answer on the radio – he leans
forward and presses a button on the front instrument panel.
This button is on a circuit that passes through the undercarriage
system and the radio in use with the Tower controller.
If the undercarriage is both down and locked correctly,
the pressing of the button sends out a sound (a beep) on
the radio that both the pilot and the Tower controller can
hear. The human input and its error prone behaviour is bypassed
completely. The aircraft (i.e. the third party) confirms
that the undercarriage is down and locked. Without hearing
the "beep" the Tower controller will not let the
aircraft land.
Responding to the "Check wheels" challenge becomes
a Pavlovian response for Mirage pilots - they automatically
reach out and press the button. From personal experience
of not hearing a "beep", when there is a problem,
is stunning. To hear silence instead of a "beep"
is akin to being hit in the forehead with a hammer. It really
focuses your attention.
Civilian Tower controllers did not have to say "Check
wheels" for commercial and other civilian aircraft.
In contrast, it was mandatory for all military aircraft
and they were trained to hear and respond to the Mirage’s
beep.
In my accident, the student Tower controller did not use
the challenge "Check wheels" and consequently
did not trigger my Pavlovian response. Between the both
of us I became world famous as the fool who beat the "foolproof"
system because we managed to bypass the "foolproof"
system completely.
The Tower instructor noticed the student’s error straight
away and reminded the student that for military aircraft
he had to say "Check wheels". Continuing the conversation
as he picked up his binoculars he said "But you will
see that he does have his wheels down ...". While I
was landing ever so gently on the runway this instructor
was grabbing the microphone from the student to tell me
to "go around" as my wheels were still up. I still
feel for this instructor and his student to this day. They
didn’t need the hassle that my accident caused them in the
following months.
Flight Safety pointed out the obvious that if the standard
military landing clearance had been used by the Tower controller,
it could have prevented the accident.
Light Aircraft Corridor:
Flight
Safety also pointed out that several problems could have
been avoided if the light aircraft corridor had been situated
even 2-3 miles south of its position that day. The corridor
had been there for years before Tullamarine Airport had
been built and no-one had ever considered moving it after
the airport was built.[1]
WHEN DID I REALISE?
I cannot over-emphasise how strong my conviction was that
my undercarriage was down. I also cannot understand where
that conviction came from – but it was there and it was
very strong.
When I touched down I felt and heard a high frequency vibration
which was not alarming but did tell me something was wrong.
Instead of doing a "touch and go", I knew I had
to land so I deployed my drag chute.
My thoughts were that the only parts of the aircraft that
were in contact with the runway were the main wheels so
they must be causing the vibration. So I immediately thought
I had blown both main tyres. If I had only blown one tyre
the aircraft would be pulling right or left. Because the
aircraft remained on the centreline I assumed I had blown
both tyres.
Because blown main tyres were said to cause a rapid deceleration,
I was not concerned with the above average deceleration
that was occurring. In the last few hundred feet of the
landing, the aircraft drifted off the centreline. I tried
to correct this deviation using my wheel brakes. In hindsight,
it was not surprising that they were not working too well!
I knew that blown tyres significantly degraded braking so,
once again, I was not surprised.
Three days before my accident, I landed at Avalon and during
that landing roll the nose wheel tyre gradually deflated.
It felt as if I had a square tyre and my head was being
repeatedly bashed against the canopy. So much so I was later
checked out for concussion. Because of the French tale of
wheels-up landings, everyone was telling me the landing
must have been really bad. I had difficulty convincing them
it was very smooth. If they were concerned about harsh landings
I advised them not to have a nose wheel deflate on them.
This incident might have predisposed me to assume I had
a problem with my main tyres.
When the aircraft stopped, I completed all my after landing
checks shutting down the engine that was working perfectly
well, and finished by turning off all the electrics. I thought
I better get up and make sure the ejection seat was safe
before anyone else arrived. I looked over the edge of the
cockpit and realised that God had lifted the runway up and
it was a lot closer to me than usual. Reality then started
to dawn on me.
I looked in to check the undercarriage indicator hoping
to see "three greens" and my heart sank when I
saw they weren’t there. I then realised that all the power
was off so there would be no indications. While this reasoning
was taking place, my hand subconsciously went to the undercarriage
lever. It was up, and reality blossomed.
I made the ejection seat safe and climbed out of the aircraft
to wait for the firemen who were on their way. "Reliable"
eye witnesses claimed I climbed down a ladder getting out
of the aircraft.[1] I still cruise
Bunnings fruitlessly trying to find a ladder that will fit
in a Mirage cockpit. I did not need a ladder – I just stepped
over the side of the cockpit.
I was most impressed when the first fireman raced up and
climbed into the cockpit. I thought to myself these guys
are really well trained – he must be trying to make the
ejection seat safe. As I walked up to tell him I had already
done this, I saw him with a hose pulling and pushing it
through the top loop of the ejection handle – thank God
it was safe. I asked him what he was doing.
He said he was trying to secure the hose so it would not
flap around too much when he turned on the hose to fill
the cockpit with foam. My horrified look stopped him in
his tracks, and I told him there was no need to do that
and the only small fire was down the back of the aircraft
not in the cockpit. He climbed out of the cockpit looking
totally disappointed.
His boss arrived then and announced that instead they would
fill the engine up with foam. For those that don’t know,
fire extinguisher foam destroys the metal in all jet engines.
Once again, I was horrified as I could see these guys progressively
destroying a perfectly good three million dollar aircraft.
I was becoming sensitive that I was the amateur telling
the professionals what to do. So I backed off a bit, calmed
their boss down, so he could see my logic.
I convinced him that the engine was working perfectly well
and as I had shut it down it would cool down normally. I
convinced him his highest priority was to extinguish the
fuel fire at the back of the aircraft and keep foaming any
fuel leaking out of the rocket bay. Finally, the unusually
hot bits that might cause problems were under the supersonic
tanks and the bomb beam. They then foamed these areas and
waited and watched ready to respond if needed.
Much later, the ARDU maintenance staff sincerely thanked
the fire crew for doing such a professional job and saving
the aircraft with minimum damage – diplomatically not referring
to all the gratuitous advice I had given them.[1]
THE EFFECTS OF THE FRENCH TALE
The
Tale:
I don’t doubt that the French lost aircraft and their pilots
were killed when attempting to land wheels-up, but I disagree
with their explanation. The French believed that the Mirage’s
notable high angle of attack when landing caused the aircraft
to "slam" into the runway – killing the pilot
and destroying the aircraft.
My accident showed that this explanation cannot be true.
My Mirage only suffered minor damage and I survived unhurt
– with the landing being quite pleasant! I believe the explanation
lies in the different ways the French and Australian pilots
land a Mirage.
Depending on the weight of the aircraft, the French pilots’
landing speed was approximately 150 knots and the Australian
pilots’ landing speed was approximately 170 knots. Australians
used the additional 20kts to allow them to flare the aircraft
like every other aircraft. I am told [1]
that the French land with a positive descent rate which
can be as high as 200 feet per minute. This is a similar
type of landing used by aircraft landing on aircraft carriers.
I personally think this is an abuse of the word “landing”
– it is in effect a controlled crash.
The robust undercarriage on these aircraft is the sole reason
both the pilots and the aircraft survive these "controlled
crashes". Using this technique to land without the
undercarriage is bound to kill the pilot and destroy the
aircraft. Even if the pilots landed with "only"
50 feet per minute descent, I would suggest there would
be a similar outcome. Imagine it is like dropping a ten
ton aircraft from a 15 foot high wall – it is bound to be
devastating for both aircraft and pilot.
Flying a Mirage at 150 knots is worse than flying a "speed
brake". At that speed a Mirage becomes a brick held
up with power. I cannot emphasise too strongly to non-Mirage
pilots the tremendous drag this aircraft could generate.
An example might help.
If your engine flamed out in a Sabre aircraft, the rectangular
flame-out pattern to land allowed you to land if you entered
the pattern at 3,500 feet. The Sabre will glide around this
pattern losing very little height. The Mirage does not glide
- it falls out of the sky.
The Mirage flame-out pattern is a tear drop pattern starting
over the threshold of the runway. You have to arrive over
the threshold outbound at 15,000 feet. When you are "gliding"
in a Mirage you are falling out of the sky at 8,000 feet
per minute. On turning onto finals and lowering the undercarriage
the rate of descent increases to 12,000 feet per minute.
You begin your flare to land and arrest this rate of descent
at 400 feet above the threshold.
Consequently, I do not envy French pilots trying to land
wheels up at 150 knots with any positive rate of descent.
This French tale had a surprisingly dominant effect on all
who studied my accident. Rather than accept the realities
of my accident, far too many tried to distort such realities
so it matched their preconceived views of the French tale.
Few questioned their assumption that the French tale was
correct. They spent far too much effort trying to force
elements ("square pegs") of my accident into the
"round holes" of their assumptions based on the
French tale.
THREE EXAMPLES:
The Perfect Landing:
As I had survived,
I must have been a "miracle pilot". Apparently my
landing was more than perfect. Wrong!
I carried out a normal landing that any Mirage pilot could
have achieved. I was not attempting to do something special
– this was meant to be a normal "day in the office".
Any pilot can land wheels up in a Mirage safely with minimum
damage to the aircraft – it doesn’t take a perfect landing.
A3-16 Was Not Permanently Damaged:
The
French tale had everyone looking and then imagining damage
in my aircraft that was not there. Initially, the aircraft
was written off with CAT 5 damage.
Five years later when the French tale effect had dissipated,
it was decided that the aircraft could easily be repaired
and the damage was reclassified as CAT 3. After the accident,
a faulty mensuration check had people believing the fuselage
had been bent when the aircraft "slammed" onto the
runway. They had incorrectly carried out the mensuration check
on the fuselage without the engine. A proper mensuration check,
with an engine installed, showed the fuselage was not bent.[1]
Board of Inquiry Finding:
One
of the findings of the Board of Inquiry was that I had landed
at 300 knots. Their twisted logic was as follows. If you
land a Mirage normally with wheels up, the pilot dies and
the aircraft is destroyed (The French tale). For Nick and
his Mirage to survive, Nick couldn’t have landed normally
– even though Nick told us he landed at 174knots. To avoid
the "slamming" effect, the angle of attack had
to be reduced to zero which occurs at 300 knots. Therefore,
Nick must have landed at 300kts.
This laughable finding was easily discredited by ARDU test
pilots by taking photographs of a Mirage at 300 knots which
showed the rocket bay would not touch the runway let alone
be damaged while landing at this speed. The damage to the
rocket bay could only be done by landing at the lower speed.
The Board had claimed I had flown the last 5nm at 300knots.
With an exact flight path and times provided by Tullamarine
ATC, the test pilots could show that, if that was true,
I must have flown the remainder of my flight from Avalon
at an average speed of 150kts (which was below take-off
speed!)[1]
Because I considered this finding dangerous for all Mirage
pilots if they ever decided to use this technique to intentionally
land wheels-up at 300 knots, I put in a formal Redress of
Grievance (12/A/12) to have this finding reversed. Five
years later it was reversed.
Nick Ford
8th June 2016
| Note
[1] |
I
have put this notation here for two reasons. Either
I am not sure of my memory and the facts need to be
checked, or I am relying on someone else who has told
me this. Once again it could be checked. |
|
