The C-130 time machine
I came back to the US a few weeks ago and the first stage of my journey consisted of taking a mighty C-130 Hercules from my corner of the imperial frontier to the very wealthy G-rated country to the south. We all showed for the flight 8 hours or more before it arrived as the Air Force wants us to and we waited and waited and waited and then waited some more and then they delayed the flight for a few more hours. Finally they took us to the ramp at 1300 hours and we waited for only 1/2 hour until the Herc landed and taxied to the ramp. It was 115 degrees.
The airplane pulled up and parked downwind instead of facing into the wind. They hustled us out there and had us wait in line behind the airplane. We didn't wait long because the exhaust of the 4 engines was stopped on the ramp by the wind right where they had us standing. People say how hot it can be here but this was really hot-"I'm worried my skin will blister" hot. I thought, "should I stay here and show everybody what a man I am or should I get the hell out before I scorch?" I decided I'm old so I can wimp out safely and turned to move and joined a crowd because everybody else thought of a good reason to wimp out too. The Air Force loadmasters frowned at us.
Then we got on board. Another guy told me you should be at the very head of the line or the very back of the line so you don't have to sit folded in a strained fetal position between people, packs and rifles. I got in the very back and had some leg room. What I gained in leg room I lost in seat room and I spent the flight tipped over, first this way, then that way. Next time I'll try the front of the line.
As our 1 and 1/2 hour flight went on for 7 hours, I thought to myself if I was ever a condemned prisoner and told I had only a very few hours to live; I would spend those hours hours flying in a loaded C-130. The time would go on and on and I would have lived enough and be ready to go.
We do have the option of riding a commercial airliner to and from the G-rated rich country to the south to our frontier corner. But there are factors to be weighed. The commercial airliner is much more comfortable but it doesn't have any missile warning systems or flares, so I would have to worry whether they paid off the bad guys not to shoot at them this month. On the other hand, the C-130's were made during the Vietnam war so I always wonder whether the wings will choose my flight to fall off. Of course if I take the airliner I know the pilots will be experienced and in the Herc I might have 2nd Lt. two months out of flight school as a pilot but then if I take the airliner I still have to get from the frontier capitol to my base via military air which would involve taking maybe...a C-130 made in 1970. What to do, what to do?
The airplane pulled up and parked downwind instead of facing into the wind. They hustled us out there and had us wait in line behind the airplane. We didn't wait long because the exhaust of the 4 engines was stopped on the ramp by the wind right where they had us standing. People say how hot it can be here but this was really hot-"I'm worried my skin will blister" hot. I thought, "should I stay here and show everybody what a man I am or should I get the hell out before I scorch?" I decided I'm old so I can wimp out safely and turned to move and joined a crowd because everybody else thought of a good reason to wimp out too. The Air Force loadmasters frowned at us.
Then we got on board. Another guy told me you should be at the very head of the line or the very back of the line so you don't have to sit folded in a strained fetal position between people, packs and rifles. I got in the very back and had some leg room. What I gained in leg room I lost in seat room and I spent the flight tipped over, first this way, then that way. Next time I'll try the front of the line.
As our 1 and 1/2 hour flight went on for 7 hours, I thought to myself if I was ever a condemned prisoner and told I had only a very few hours to live; I would spend those hours hours flying in a loaded C-130. The time would go on and on and I would have lived enough and be ready to go.
We do have the option of riding a commercial airliner to and from the G-rated rich country to the south to our frontier corner. But there are factors to be weighed. The commercial airliner is much more comfortable but it doesn't have any missile warning systems or flares, so I would have to worry whether they paid off the bad guys not to shoot at them this month. On the other hand, the C-130's were made during the Vietnam war so I always wonder whether the wings will choose my flight to fall off. Of course if I take the airliner I know the pilots will be experienced and in the Herc I might have 2nd Lt. two months out of flight school as a pilot but then if I take the airliner I still have to get from the frontier capitol to my base via military air which would involve taking maybe...a C-130 made in 1970. What to do, what to do?
posted by Carl at 11:51 AM
4 Comments:
do the wings really fall off?
they do. look on youtube for a video of a C-130A that was firefighting if you want to see what it looks like.
none have fallen of the USAF Hercs yet but those airplanes are all near 40 years old and have been hard used. i think about it every time i get on one of those things.
Thanks Carl.. now I have something else to worry about when I board one of those beasts. Normally I just worry about the "rapid decent" and banking they do on the final approach. I usually wonder if the plane can really take the pressure and is that LT going to face plant me into the ground. --Wes (Becoming more nervous about flying everytime I read your blog.)
Wes: I didn't tell about the time I was in the C-130 waiting to go north when the flight crew accidentally broadcast their intercom chatter on the PA for a few minutes. There was a new pilot who was receiving "instruction" from an IP. It consisted of abusive comments designed to show how much more the IP knew than the other guy, the "boy, are you stupid!" school of pedagogy.
Just what we needed for a middle of the night flight to a poorly lit runway, pilots who would have felt better fist fighting on the ramp.
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