All right you dirty rat

11 right you dirty rats, it's time to stop procrastinating and putting us off. That's right, I'm talking to you and your friends. First it was the old "Thanksgiving's Coming" excuse. Then the equally overused "But-I-Haven't-Even-Started-My-ChristmasShopping" dodge. But now it's January, the income tax deadline doesn't come for three months and you're out of excuses!

Whad'ya mean-what am I talking about? Why it's the world famous 1984 MAC Flying Safety Writing Contest, of course. In case you hadn't noticed, the 1984 contest has been in full swing for two months already and the number of early entries can be counted on the toes of one small foot. C'mon now, I know there are mobs of you out there waiting for the last minute to write your prizewinning entries. So what's keeping ya? Remember, the contest closes on 31 March and my recently paroled associate is busily engraving plaques and desk sets for you winners. (Disregard any pictures

of

Washington, Lincoln or Jackson which might accidentally appear on the plates.)

Hey! I'll make it easy for you. If you'll send me an entry, be it a story or a poem, I'll send you your very own C. R. Terror T-shirt by return mail. (Trust me!) What's more, I'll also provide you with a free one-year's paid subscription to this esteemed publication. All this just for entering, sending your masterpiece to us and following the rules!

The only catch (and there's always one) is that your story or poem must contain an aviation safety or mishap prevention message. So dust off your typewriter, move that stack of unread PME/SKT/PFE books aside and put your story to paper. Then edit, edit again and mail it off to our eagerly awaiting and carefully screened panel of totally unbiased judges.

If you fail to heed this friendly advice, my pals Lefty and Knuckles will be forced to meet with you and make you an offer you can't refuse!

The 1984 MAC Flying Safety Writing Contest is conducted according to MACR 900-3 and these rules. All entries must be original, unpublished and postmarked no later than 31 March 1984. Stories must be between 1,000 and 3,000 words long (about 6 to 14 double-spaced typed pages); poetry should be about 75 to 100 lines. Entries must contain an aviation safety/mishap prevention message. Manuscripts must be double-space typed and submitted in two copies. Identify entries by title only and attach a cover sheet showing the author's name, address, duty phone number and unit. Also, the cover sheet should contain a brief autobiography.

The contest is open to anyone. Entries qualifying under the

above rules earn their author a free C.R. Terror T-shirt (so indicate your size) and a free 1-year subscription to The MAC Flyer. However, contest prizes (desk sets and plaques) may only be awarded to military members and civilian employees of the Department of the Air Force or Air Reserve Forces. Other entrants may be selected for Honorable Mention in a Special Category. All winning stories will be published in The MAC Flyer. Entries should be addressed to:

Safety Writing Contest

HQ MAC/IGFE

Scott AFB, IL 62225

January 1984

22 22

013 XL

3

Whether he was falling asleep at home or trying to doze in the loft of his C-141, those moments between wakefulness and sleep found him in a twilight world where he'd remained a first lieutenant imprisoned in the T-37 runway supervisory unit at Sheppard AFB watching his Vietnamese student stall, crash and die.

was guiltless

for

The imprisonment Nguyen had learned well. He was the "top stick" in his class and his checkride scores were higher than anyone's. Nevertheless, Nguyen was the one who forgot to raise his gear when he pulled up for an emergency closed pattern. Nguyen was the one who became so distracted when his air conditioner failed to full hot that he let his airspeed bleed off to V-stall. And Nguyen, who'd been graded excellent in stall recoveries, was the one who failed to ease forward on the stick, add full power and fly his plane out of the stall.

Jim Tanner lay in the loft trying to sleep. Through his ear plugs he heard the rushing of the air conditioning packs and felt the dry heat blanketing his tired body. After 2 more hours of rest he'd have to get up. The first pilot and copilot on his augmented crew could take care of things until they were an hour out of Diego. He closed his eyes, letting the noisy darkness dissolve, and once again the silver T-37 climbed slowly toward the Texas

sun.

"Major, it's time to get up." The scanner pulled at his right foot. Still rubbing his eyes, he climbed into the right seat. 1st Lt. Bob Newton, the first pilot, would get this approach and landing.

As Bob flew the descent, Jim watched approvingly and handled the radios. "Diego Tower, MAC 60174 is 50 DME."

"Roger, MAC 174. Diego altimeter twoniner-niner-four. Winds 310° at 6 knots. Continue inbound, we have a Navy P-3 taking runway 30 for departure to the northwest. Should be no factor." The Starlifter continued its descent, leveling off at 2,500 feet, the approach check completed.

Then the tower called, "MAC 174, say position."

"Diego, MAC 174 is 10 miles east."

"MAC 174, the P-3 is experiencing some difficulty on the runway. Request you remain 10 east and we'll keep you advised."

"Roger, Diego. MAC 174 copies. We'll hold on the 100° radial between 10 and 20 DME at 2,500 feet. When do you expect the runway to be clear?"

Tower's response was slow. The C-141 had completed its outbound turn before Diego answered, "MAC 174, the P-3 crew tells us they should be clear in a few minutes."

On interphone now, Jim asked the engineer for fuel on board. "Twenty-three thousand," came the response. All was quiet as the crew reflected on the unlikely possibility of not being able to land at their remote island destination. Jim broke the silence on interphone, "Well, folks, this is why we carry 1 plus 15 holding fuel for an island, but I still don't like it."

The Starlifter reached 20 DME and turned inbound. Jim engaged the autopilot and turned on the altitude hold. Then the master caution light blinked on, the annunciator panel flashing "cargo smoke."

Now the tone on the interphone was anything but reflective. Jim started with the loadmaster, "We've got a cargo smoke light. Do you see anything?"

"Yes, sir," came the answer. "There's a bit of light smoke or something way in the back. I'm heading back to check."

Jim assumed control of the airplane and told the other pilots to run some fire bottles to the back of the cabin "just in case." Then sniffing the air, he began to notice a faint burning odor. "Crew, everyone on oxygen!"

Only Jim and the engineer remained up front as they ran through the Dash One procedures. Jim twisted the turn control knob and began turning back to the east. In the rear the rest of the crew dug into the aft most pallet following the smoke to its source. The deeper they dug, the more intense the smoke became. Jim turned in his seat and looked over his left shoulder through the open flight deck door as some thin wisps of smoke drifted past the galley to the flight deck. He noticed his airspeed was a bit high, so he pulled off some power. What he didn't notice was that the altitude hold disengaged. He also didn't hear the almost imperceptible click as the autopilot disconnected.

The loadmaster's voice came over the interphone. "Whatever is smoking in here seems to get worse when we bank. Maybe it's a liquid. Can we stay wings level for a while to keep it from sloshing?"