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The January Issue. Volume 2 Issue 7 New Format Chapter 01 Landings - Competition Results

Chapter 02 Punch Out - a True Story Chapter 03 Pilot’s Lounge Float Planes

Chapter 04 SAM Hunter Killer

Chapter 05 F105D Thunderchief.

Chapter 06 Feature Rob Skinkis Manchester.

Chapter 07 Matthew Ottosen’s AV-8B Harrier.

Chapter 08 Lockwood’s Sky Cam.

Chapter 09 Ricardo’s Sky Cam II at FAKR.

Chapter 10 An Amphibious Sky Cam.

Chapter 11 Tail Piece.

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The editor has gone into fine-art renditions and photographs, colour and black and white, printed, and framed. The whole library of images is avial-able for printing. So, place your orders.

The Aviation Photographers Journal

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le Cirque Volant Cover January 2009

COVER

VOLUME 2 ISSUE 7 January 2009

Copyright Images

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(NOTE: you can click on any URL appearing within the issue to go direct to the sites mentioned)

Off Flickr® The Pilot’s Lounge Group LCV competition LANDINGS

Landings - a Pilot's Lounge Innitiative in conjuction with le Cirque Volant.

Scores are in, winner selected.

Top marks - Joe stremph for B-17G "Sentimental Journey" 95 out of 100Technical - 75% - exposure, lighting, sharpnessVision - 97% - what makes the image fit the subjectImage - 93% - cropping, presentation, impact

Followed by Chris the pilot guy’s civil/private landing. 91 out of 100Technical - 80% - exposure, lighting, sharpnessVision - 88% - what makes the image fit the subjectImage - 94% - cropping, presentation, impact

and second runner up John 2000L "JC;s SNJ Landing at Boulder colorado 90 out of 100Technical - 90% - exposure, lighting, sharpnessVision - 93% - what makes the image fit the subjectImage - 88% - cropping, presentation, impact

I was difficult but the judges fought tooth and nail for their selection and left it to a cold calculating computer to do the scores.

Congrats to the winner(s) and the members.

All Rights Reserved Images are Copyright respective artists.

Note : Smaller Images are enlarged to maximum

@Callum123

@BioArt

Dramatic - Judges most viewedImage is Copyright

@Hibris9

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@mvonraesfeld

@JustPlane Photography

@Naemick

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@Dfndr13

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@amisbk196

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@JKaisers

Chris the pilot guy's civil/private landing. Score 91 out of 100

2000L "JC;s SNJ Landing at Boulder ColoradoScore 90 out of 100

2nd Runner Up

1st Runner Up

WINNER Joe stremph for B-17G “Sentimental Journey”Score 95 out of 100

Special Mention

Copyright

Copyright

The strike mission began going bad for the Navy lieutenant when the plane ahead of his A-7 Corsair II came off-target with hung ordnance and he started getting “that old feeling.” Sure enough, he soon found himself quietly drifting down through thick clouds into Laos.

More than 30 years after the event, some memories have become

fuzzy while others remain crystal clear. The one recollection that remains vivid and foremost in my mind is the bravery and dedica-tion of the men who risked their lives to save me. Consequently, this is their sea story as well as mine.

Snuggled Up For The Night

As a second-tour pilot with Attack Squadron (VA) 97 in the USS Constellation (CVA-64), I felt like a seasoned combat veteran—but not invincible. I can remember writing to my wife and describing the eerie beauty of flak and tracers against the sky on night mis-sions and the paradox of doing something that had become “rou-tine” despite the inherent danger.

Well, maybe I felt a little invincible. But any of those feelings came to an abrupt end on 3 April 1970.

I was sec-tion leader of a two-plane A-7A Corsair II mission. For the uninitiated, the A-7 was a single-seat, subsonic light attack jet, not a fighter. The vintage “A” model was underpowered but (fortunately) well armored. It could carry a reasonable bomb load. Our usual ordnance was ten 500-pound MK-82 bombs. On this particular mission, however,

A-7 Punch Out over LaosBy Harry Hoffman

http://tailspinstales.blogspot.com

our task was to “seed” a supply route in Laos and the ordnance was designed not to explode on impact but rather to act as proximity mines that detonated only when vehicles passed nearby. Our radio call sign was War Ace.

I recall that it was a clear day at the target itself, but the weather had been overcast en route to the site. The threat of enemy MiG aircraft had long since been neutralized, and there were no reported SAM (sur-face-to-air missile) batteries in that operating area. Overall, it seemed like a fairly routine and low-threat mission. The only thing we had to worry about was the ever-present AAA (antiaircraft artillery) threat, consisting of 37- and 57-mm batteries.

During the Vietnam War, Navy and Air Force strikes were accom-plished on such a routine and predictable basis we used to joke that the enemy probably knew our flight schedule better than we did. Often as we approached a target and checked in with the for-ward air controller (FAC), we would find ourselves queued up like

commercial airliners waiting for an approach to an airport in bad weather. Such was the case on this particular mission.

Belly Shot

Our FAC informed us that the flight ahead of us was about to make final runs on target and we should position ourselves to commence

attack as soon as they were clear. Usual procedure in this case was to orbit off-target at a slightly higher altitude, ready to roll in when instruct-ed. Standard tactics were conservative: roll-in at 12,000 feet, release at 6,000 to 8,000 feet, and “jink” pulling off the target. My wingman and I were ready. At this stage in the war, most of us just want-ed to get on-target and then off as quickly as possible and get home to the carrier-no he-roics, no unreasonable risks.

A7 Corsair II

As we orbited the target, I spotted the last aircraft of the preceding mission just about to roll in on his final run. The FAC had marked the road segment with smoke and told us where he wanted our first drops, in this case two mines per run. I mentally picked a point

about 180 degrees opposite the last roll-in point of the preceding flight, and we set ourselves up to do our own roll-in as soon as cleared. That’s when things began to go wrong.

Any naval aviator will prob-ably tell you that timing is everything. My Corsair was perched just right to roll in at the time and place I wanted when the preceding aircraft came off-target with hung (no release) ordnance. Without skipping a beat, the FAC radi-oed us to make another orbit and roll in on the tail of the previous aircraft, which was beginning another run to jet-tison his ordnance on-target. The problem with doing this is that it gives ground gunners a better chance to zero in on targets. With yet another flight stacked up behind us, the FAC was trying to move things along. Although I was beginning to get “that old feel-ing,” I complied.

As soon as the hung-ordnance bird jettisoned his load, I was called in “hot”-right on his tail from 12,000 feet. This is the point where

things seemingly began to happen in slow motion, a phenomenon many others in similar situations have experienced. At about 8,000 feet during the run, I felt a thump, sort of like encountering another aircraft’s jet wash. In retrospect, I’m amazed at how efficient the mind becomes when you know you’re in trouble. I made some very quick decisions in a very short time.

Still in the run, I looked instinctively to my right. From the A-7 cockpit you can see most of the outboard wing surface. Mine had the same appear-ance as the back side of a tin can after target practice. Not a good sign. The adrenalin was beginning to flow, but my thought processes took on a crystal clarity that I wish to this day I could summon on demand.

I keyed the mike button and said, “I think I took a hit—aborting.” Almost simultaneously, I reached out and

punched the control-panel button to jettison all ordnance. I experi-enced another thump as the ordnance released and then a feeling of relief as I realized the aircraft was still flying and controllable. I’m sure my low pullout off-target had some of the defenders ducking for cover. I was already pointed east toward the Gulf of Tonkin. The FAC acknowledged the situation and offered stand-by assist-ance as needed.

Checklists were whirring around in my brain. But unlike during our squadron safety quizzes, they were now as vivid as black print in my mind. Focused on my cockpit gauges, I heard the FAC clear my wingman to drop all his ordnance, and he was quickly on his way to join up. Hydraulic pressure was beginning to fluctuate. Another checklist: ISO(lation) hydraulics selected, minimum control move-ments, etc. The aircraft was still flying, and I began to get a hopeful feeling. It didn’t last long.

During the Vi-etnam War, the U.S. Air Force had airborne search and rescue (SAR) assistance moni-toring all strike frequencies. To my relief, only moments after heading off-target, the radio crackled with a

reassuring Air Force voice offering assistance and tracking: “War Ace, what are your intentions?”

By then my wingman had joined up and was looking me over. He

confirmed my worst fears: I had holes in my wing and the fuse-lage underside and was streaming some vapor. I decided my best bet was to head for Da Nang. I relayed this to the airborne SAR. Within minutes they let me know Da Nang was alerted, standing by with local SAR, and could foam the runway if needed.

Things were looking better, but just west of the Laotian border and the Ashau Valley, my luck ran out. With a shudder, the engine seized, electric power (with gauges and radio) went out, and the controls began to stiffen. I popped out my ram air turbine in a vain attempt to gain backup power and controls, but nothing happened. My Corsair was still straight and level, but I knew it was going down.

We had been flying toward Da Nang at about 15,000 feet. There was an overcast with tops around 9,000 feet as far as the eye could see, obscuring the ground. And then the aircraft began a slow roll to the left.

Again I was in a slow-motion world; decision processing had vivid clarity. I decided I didn’t want the situation to progress to me rid-ing an uncontrolled aircraft into the overcast below. If I was going to eject, it seemed a better option to do it while reasonably straight and level. I had just enough time to look out to my right and give a lame wave goodbye to my wingman as my aircraft continued to roll. I learned later that he got the message and radioed to the airborne SAR, “It looks like he’s going to punch out.”

I pulled the face curtain, and as you can imagine, the wild ride in a McDonnell-Douglas Escapac II ejection seat is at least as spectacu-lar as a Disneyland E-ticket ride. The seat worked as advertised. The memory is as one might expect: chaos, cold air, pain, G-forces, noise, and then zap—the reassuring but traumatic opening shock of the chute. The transition from all of this to a “peaceful” down-ward drift in a quiet, vast, open space is a memory that’s etched in my brain. Another is the bizarre sight of the aircraft canopy spiraling slowly away from me toward the cloud tops far beneath my feet.

Then came one of those rare moments that seem almost ab-surd in retrospect: I distinctly remember declaring out loud to no one in particular but my-self: “Jesus Christ, what the f--- am I doing here?”

I vaguely recall pulling out the PRC-90 radio from my survival vest on the descent, contacting my wingman on guard (emergency) frequency, and telling him I was okay, but I couldn’t swear to this. The PRC-90 was to become my most valuable piece of survival gear in the whole subsequent adventure.

The most unnerving part of the descent was the trip through the 9,000-foot overcast. It was like drifting through a bowl of milk-total whiteout and disorientation. My main disadvantage was not knowing what was below me or when I was going to hit it. The chute oscillations from the cloud turbulence were no fun, either.

The answer to the above question came too quickly for me to react. As it turned out, the bottoms of the overcast were only about 100 to 200 feet above the ground. Still oscillating, I hit on a hillside, facing up the hill. There was only a split second between breaking

out of the clouds and impact. From my perspective at the time, it seemed like I had landed verti-cally on level ground. Not so. I hit at an angle and immediately tumbled backward down the hill, landing on my fanny with an impact that apparently bestowed a compression fracture on my lower vertebrae (in retrospect, this might have occurred during ejection). Years later this would be worth free Purple Heart li-

cense plates from the state of Nevada and back pain on cold winter days.

Looking around, I saw that the top of the hill disappeared into the cloud bottoms. I was relieved not to find an immediate enemy presence, and the cloud cover probably helped by obscuring my descent from the bad guys. I got out of my chute and hid it beneath

the dark underside of my survival raft, which had broken out of the seat pan. I decided to head for high ground, but the terrain was thick tropical brush that made movement agonizingly slow, particu-larly with back pain.

The trip up the hillside was exhausting, and I probably only managed to get about 100 yards from where I hit the ground. I picked the thickest foliage I could find and settled in. It was late in the afternoon and dusk was approaching. With the volume as low as possible, I contacted my wingman on the PRC-90. He let me know that SAR was on its way and he had to depart. That was a very lonely time.

Soon after dusk, the radio crackled. Captain David Wray, USAF, flying “Covey 251” (presumably an OV-10) announced his pres-ence as the on-scene SAR coordinator. He had some good news and some bad news. The good news was that he was there and had a fix on my position. The bad news was that HH-3 Jolly Green Gi-ant helicopters would not be flying my SAR mission because the

area I was in was considered “too hot.” That did not help my para-noia at all.

Covey 251 assured me he would be overhead for several hours and was working on “Plan B.” Meanwhile, he advised radio silence. By this time it was getting very dark.

About an hour later, Covey 251 chirped up again with more good and bad news. First the bad: I would be spending the night in the jungle. The good news was that the Army was sending in rescue helos at first light. With assurances from Covey that he or his relief would be somewhere nearby overhead for most of the night, I settled in for the dura-tion.

One of the points made during jungle environmental survival training (JEST) was that in an evasion situation, the best bet

was to stay put and be perfectly still, much like a rabbit avoid-ing its stalker. That turned out to be some of the best advice I ever received.

I won’t recount the minute-by-minute paranoia of spending a night in Laos under the obvious circumstances, but suffice it to say it

was no fun. Sounds and sensations became magnified. In the dark-ness, I could feel things crawling on various parts of my body, but I didn’t want to know what they were. Dewdrops falling off leaves and landing on other leaves sounded like footsteps right by my head. I did a lot of thinking and bargained with God with a lot of promises if only He would get me out of there alive.

Not all of this was paranoia. Since landing, I could hear occasional distant explosions and rifle cracks. I just hoped no one knew where I was. They didn’t, but they did try to find out. Several times dur-

ing the night I heard the nearby sound of voices and an occasional burst of weapons fire. From JEST training I knew that the ene-my didn’t have the luxury of flashlights, so this was a technique designed to make the evader panic and break cover. I had no de-sire to become a hero or a martyr. The thought of a final shoot-out with my trusty .38 police special seemed like a poor option.

Dawn brought another crackle on the PRC-90. Covey 251 told me three Army UH-1 Huey helicopters from the 101st Airborne Division out of Hue/Phu Bai were on the way. The weather was still low overcast, and Covey told me to start making my way to a clearing about 100 yards from my position. There was no sign of enemy activity in the area. Things were beginning to look better.

Within 20 minutes or so, the first radio call from the UH-1s came over the PRC-90. The flight estimated they were five min-utes out. What I didn’t know at the time was that the lead helo in the flight was the only one with a working homing beacon to zero in on my PRC-90. Another problem was that his attitude gyro wasn’t working. He had to fly under the 200-foot overcast using nothing but treetops for attitude reference—all the while with two trusting UH-1 wingmen tucked in close to his side. I still thank my lucky stars for the courage and determination of these guys.

I was poised at the edge of the clearing when I heard the first sounds of helo rotors. The lead UH-1 advised that his homing instruments were becoming erratic, so he requested “steers” from me using his rotor sounds. I gave him reciprocal bearings from my survival compass as best I could. I don’t have to tell you the absolute joy of seeing that first helicopter come into view from the other side of the clearing. I called my visual contact and popped my orange smoke flare. In another 30 seconds they were hovering above the clearing.

A new problem quickly became apparent: The “clearing” was not totally clear. Very tall bamboo plants populated the entire area, preventing the helos from landing. The lead chopper hovered overhead, and I could clearly see the crew. Next they dropped a rope with two D rings on the end. I learned later that the usual mission of these helicopters was extracting Special Forces from operating areas by hooking them up to this rig and dangling them underneath until they reached a safe area. That’s what they were expecting to do with me.

I just stood there like an idiot with a stupid look on my face, try-ing to figure out the rig. The helicopters had no time for this. The crew waved me off, retracted the rope, and again things began to look bleak.

Realizing they were dealing with a clueless Navy pilot, the lead Huey’s crewmen exercised the next option. With blades swirling, it descended, chopping off the tops of bamboo plants. When it was low enough, out the side door came a rope ladder. This I knew what to do with, but deciding I was too dim-witted to know my next move, one crewman began to descend the ladder to assist. I met him midway up and literally crawled over him on my way into the chopper. I sprawled onto the helo bay floor, and we sped away to Hue/Phu Bai.

I learned after the fact that by the time we were exiting the scene, the helos had attracted some enemy activity on the periphery of the clearing. A Huey gunner described it as a “Mexican standoff.” The bad guy raised and pointed his weapon but never opened fire. The gunner returned the courtesy, and we were gone.

After the usual flight-surgeon check at Hue/Phu Bai and a restless night’s sleep in the “Q,” I was returned to the Constellation via carrier onboard delivery. In my scrap heap I still have a copy of a bill made up by the 101st Airborne for $2,557,946 (one each, A-7A aircraft) and $2,343 for flight time (3 UH-1s and one OV-10).

True to my promise to these brave men whom I will never forget, I rooted for Army during the second half of the next Army-Navy game.

Dr. Hoffman graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1965. After flying 225 combat missions in Vietnam, he attended medical school, graduating in 1974, and served as a flight surgeon and re-search test pilot. After completing his Navy service in 1982 with the rank of commander, Dr. Hoffman practiced medicine in the pub-lic sector until 1986, when he entered the U.S. Air Force Medical Corps. Three years later he retired from the Air Force as a lieuten-ant colonel. He later practiced occupational medicine in California before passing away on 11 May 2004

Off Flickr®Pilot’s Lounge Group As-signmentFloat Planes

SAM Hunter-Killer MissionBy Gary Barnhill

http://tailspinstales.blogspot.com

The head of our local FAA Flight Standards District Office (FSDO) is a pilot's pilot, a Marine Aviatior, and a gentleman in every respect. Occassionally he sends along items I might not have seen otherwise. He writes:

This story exists in several forms. It was immortalized by Col Jack Broughton in his landmark book about F-105 Operations called "Thud Ridge". The incredible odds facing the F-105 missions over North Vietnam and the Navy missions over North Vietnam are still marginalized by the general distaste for the Vietnam war. Someday someone will examine the military history sur-rounding this amazing aviation warfighting, and these true heroes will receive their due.

An interesting sidelight is the emerging conflict between the old TAC and SAC personnel. At the time SAC personnel controlled the Air Force, while TAC personnel fought the war. This was the LeMay era, when subordinates did not speak out of turn. Many frontline fighter pilots lost careers in the battle to create realistic training to prepare new pilots for the rigors of tactical avia-tion up north.

TAC pilots did have one spot of comraderie with SAC pilots. They all loved the tanker guys who were almost always there to help a thirsty bird home. One of the most striking passages in Broughton's narrative is his description of an F-105 flaming out due to fuel starvation while plugged into a tanker. The tank-ers would enter a gentle dive and allow the F-105 to accomplish a restart while accepting fuel.

Jerry PendzickManager, San Diego FSDO

During an F-105D combat tour out of Takhli, Thailand in 1965, Russian SAM (SA-2 Surface to Air Missiles) begun to appear in North Vietnam. Previously, we had driven over our targets unmolested at 18,000 feet to begin a dive bomb attack. The newly arrived SAM's canceled out our high altitude sanctuary and forced pilots down low, where anti-aircraft fire was intense.

We begged permission to take out the proliferating SAMs before they got to us. Request denied. Prez Lyndon Johnson feared it might hurt the Russians' feelings since they provided the SAMs to North Viet Nam.

One day our base commander, a colonel who did not fly combat missions, bravely announced: "We" are going after the SAM’s. Captain Mike Cooper, showing more guts than tact, called out from the back of the room, "What's this 'we' crap, Colonel, are you going along in the F105F two-seater. Getting shot at everyday tends to loosen up one's military decorum.

Navy LtCmdr Powers landed his A4E at Takhli carrying his own 500 lb bombs. Powers was the XO of the USS Oriskany's VA-164 squadron. The Navy had sent their very best. Powers knew this was a big time White House directed mission, and dangerous.

SAM Hunter-Killer Mission

Takhli scheduled two outstanding Flight Commanders. Mike Cooper would lead a flight of four Thuds from the 334th TFS, with mates: Jim Butler, John Stell and Lee Adams. Gayle Williams would lead four from the 562nd: Gary Barnhill and two others whose names escape me. Each Thud would carry 8x750 lb. bombs. This was in the days before "smart" and "dumb" bombs.

This joint Navy/Air Force mission briefing was more like a focus group. Powers wanted to fly across the target level at 50 feet and skip bomb it. We preferred to dive bomb, using a pop-up from the deck to create a dive bomb run. That made it tougher for the ground gunners to track us. No sweat, since Power's would be first across the target and out of the way, his flat pass would not conflict with our dive-bombing.

These were called "Dooms Day missions", because invariably someone got shot down from the heavy defenses around Hanoi. Did guys shy away from these missions? Are you kidding? Your best friend would lie, cheat and screw you to get your slot on a Dooms Day mission.

SAM Hunter-Killer Mission

Power's plane had a magic black box, well, what passed for magic, circa 1965. Actually it was similar to the old coffee grinder ADF (Direction Finder). A needle would point in the general direction of a SAM site, when and if the SAM was in the SEARCH mode. Operator skill required.

We launched, joined up, refueled and headed North only to find a solid over-cast at the let down point. It was a No-Go. Or was it? Power's pulled the Thuds into a tight nine-ship "V" formation and descended into cloud. No one would have criticized him one bit if he canceled for weather and returned to base. He pressed on.

Nearing the target, we finally broke out of cloud and went to the deck. No longer a "formation", now just a gaggle of bomb-laden Thuds strung out in loose single file. At one point, there were hills on both sides and overcast above making a sort of tunnel. I got slung into cloud during a turn and im-

mediately punched the nose down desperately hoping for valley beneath and not hillside. I remember thinking; I'm NOT going to miss this (mission) for anything. I flew so low over a guy driving a farm tractor that he leapt to the ground. He was doin' about two knots, we were doin' 550. When they are shooting at you: Low is good...Fast is good.

My plane was hit by small arms fire causing some yellow caution lights to glow, as we screamed low level towards the target.

The Thud was well built. Once, when all Thuds were grounded do to several inexplicably blowing up, someone suggested giving them to the Army for use as tank crushers. Taxi a Thud over a tank and collapse the gear...crushing the tank. Another joke suggested painting Thuds yellow and using them for ground power units. Rumor was: Republic was going to make the Thud out of cement, but they found out steel was heavier.

SAM Hunter-Killer Mission

We didn't know the SAM's exact location, but hoped the Navy's magic black box could point the way. We were the goats, tethered to lure the lion out into the open for the kill. Until that day, it was a big deal when just one or two SAMs were launched. Now they were firing SAMs like artillery. Fifteen is the number I remember. It's what they mean by: "All Hell's Broken Loose".

Powers calmly transmitted; "I've got 'em on my nose...starting my run". He flew directly over the target at tree top level and was literally disintegrated by withering ground fire.

My turn. I lit the burner and popped up to about 7500 feet, Power's emergency locater beacon screeching in my headset. As the nose came up, I clearly re-member saying aloud to myself, "Oh crap, I don't want to do this".

During that brief dive bomb run, which seemed an eternity, there was a sharp knocking sound, like a fist on a door; it was enemy ground fire hitting the plane. I instinctively shouted into my oxygen mask: "Stop It. Stop It".

Years later, a VA shrink would explain that utterance was related to the trauma of a severe belt whipping when I was ten. Got my feet wet in the snow on the way home from school. My Dad held me tightly by the wrist beat my buns and legs with a leather belt. Shrink said I had no evidence at age 10, or on the bomb run that either event was survivable. In both cases, my mind thought I would die. It both cases, I pleaded hopelessly: "Stop It. Stop It".

The anti-aircraft hits caused multiple red and yellow emergency lights to blink incessantly, I transmitted my intention to get to the water off Haiphong before ejecting. Radio chatter was understandably chaotic. Each Thud pilot was indi-vidually living his own Hell, jinking violently to get away from the unrelent-ing ground fire.

SAM Hunter-Killer Mission

Alone and doing 810 knots on the deck (that's right, Buddy, 810 knots) I slowly overtook a Navy F-8 Crusader as if passing a car on the freeway. We exchanged gentle pathetic waves as if to say: "Oh, Hi there, don't know you, but hope you're having a nice day?" I swear it was the most surreal moment of my life.

Still on the deck, but now over the safety of Gulf of Tonkin water, a sort of euphoric invincibility set in. If I ejected over the water, the Navy would surely pick me up.

But the fire warning light had gone out, so I strafed a couple of boats capable of capturing downed pilots. The Vulcan fired six thousand rounds a minute. That's one round of 20 millimeter every 37 inches, literally a stream of lead. It sounded more like a Hoover than a machine gun.

Decided there was no reason to jump out if this bird was still running. Did that last month and it scared the crap out of me. On the radio now, with precious little fuel remaining I was begging for a tanker. Made radio contact with a KC-135 somewhere in cy-berspace. Following a terse debate challenging HIS priorities, we got together

with barely any fuel reading on my gauge.

Made it back to Takhli. Gear, flap and flight control problems but landed in one piece.

Had hits all over the plane, except the extremely vulnerable underbelly engine area. It required 4,000 man-hours of work just to ferry it somewhere else for repair.

I pleaded with the base commander to award Pow-er's the Air Force Cross. He didn't like the idea. Reminded me that the Navy had their own Navy Cross and handled their own decorations. I pushed my point as if we were equals. Don't you get it; the USS Oriskany lost their top guy while USAF gets a big headline back home. Power's brilliant leadership was why the mission succeeded! Give the NAVY guy the AIR FORCE CROSS! The colonel wasn't a fighter pilot. He didn't get it.

General George Simler flew in from headquar-ters to have a beer with the guys on the mis-sion. Sitting at the sorry-no-ice-today, O'Club bar, Simler and I were hangar flying like two young cadets. He was that kind of General.

I passionately pitched Simler on awarding the Air Force Cross to Powers. He loved it, instant-ly. Turned and said dismissively to the Base Commander: "take care of that, Colonel".

Navy LtCmdr Powers received the Navy Cross. Posthumously.

SAM Hunter-Killer Mission

A decoration awarded that day could have described any of the pilots on the mission: Thunderchiefs...Hunter-Killer mission...against Surface to Air Mis-siles...deep within hostile territory...low level high speed run...encounter withering ground fire...pressed the attack...dropped bombs in heart of target complex...remarkable mission...overwhelming odds...skill...aggressiveness...

Another pilot who was on that missioin wrote to Jerry:

An old man who served in WWII told his grandson, "I was never a hero, but I served with many who were." That's how I feel. The most remarkable char-acters in my life were the heroes I was honored to fly with in 1965. They didn't all come home. Nam was not a very glamorous or patriotic war, but every fighter pilot I knew put his life on the line as if it were.

F-105D "Thunderchief"

New features to the F-105D included a higher thrust J-75-P-19W engine with water injection, a cockpit with a vertical instrument panel, a bad weather navi-gation system, attack equipment, and integrated instruments. The last Ds off the line could refuel from either the flying boom or hose drogue type tanker.

Configuration of the D cockpit was finalized by a Mockup Board on 11 De-cember.

Republic requested new production schedules. The contractor claimed that the F-105D, although similar in appearance to the F-105B would be differ-ent enough to make it difficult to use the B production line, even with many modifications. The higher gross weight of the new model series would require stronger main gear, wheels, and brakes. The F-105D's improved engine would necessitate changes in the fuselage and intake ducts. Fabrication time, Repub-lic stated, would be raised from 144 to 214 workdays.

General Operationl Requirement (GOR) 49, as revised 22 November 1958, was amended. The amendment required that the F-105 be capable of deliver-ing at least two of the air to surface missiles specified in GOR 166 of October 1957.

Production of an increased number of F 1051)s was programmed at the ex-pense of the two place F 105E. The Air Force hoped that cancellation of the high cost F 105E and replacement by the cheaper F 105D, on a one for one basis, also would enable Republic to speed production.

Despite the efforts expanded on the aircraft and its components, the F-105B was still not fully proven when the first F-105D was accepted by the Air Force. The engineering changes made on the F-105B under Project Optimize and the subsequent Prove Out testing of the MA-8 fire control system were

F105D Thunderchief

but one example of the difficulties experienced with the new components and their integration into the weapon system. Other modifications were ei-ther established or proposed for both the production completed F-105Bs and the incoming F-105Ds. To avoid a variety of aircraft configurations, the Air Force decided to process these modifications as a single package. The first production black box aircraft, received at Eglin AFB on October 27, 1960, upon evaluation proved to be adequate and the F-105D's operational capability in all visual and blind bombing was recognized. The black box modification of all F-105 aircraft was confirmed in November. Republic's lack of experience in delivering aircraft with the modification affected production sched-ules and delayed various phases of the F-105D flight testing program.

During tests, the F-105D en-countered problems similar to those that had plagued the F-105B. Category I flight tests were delayed because of difficulties with the J-7b engine and speed restrictions placed on the aircraft. Cat-egory II testing, scheduled to start in May 1960, did not begin until 26 Decem-ber because of the black box modification and other production slippages. The F-105D's airframe and engine had undergone evaluation either on the F-105B or during the D model's Category I tests. This let the Air Force cut short the

delayed Category II tests that centered on the instrument display as well as the fire control and navigation systems. Conducted by the 335th TFS at Eglin AFB, these tests ended on 31 October 1961. Category III flight tests were also reduced and conducted by the 335th but took place at Seymour Johnson AFB, which became the collecting point for all specialized test equipment and spare parts prior to TAC acceptance of the first F-105D. Most of the support prob-lems encountered during the Category III testing of the F-105B were elimi-nated.

TAC's 4th Fighter Wing was first to receive the aircraft. F-105Ds began reaching USAFE's 36th Tactical Fighter Wing in May 1961. Deliv-eries to PACAF started in October 1962. Between 1961 and 1967, the F-105D was grounded a number of times, after experiencing various operational problems, including the failure of the fuselage frame, chafing and flight control deficien-cies, engine failures, fuel leaks, and malfunctions of the fuel venting systems.

All F-105Ds were grounded for in-spection after the aircraft's main fu-selage frame failed during a routine laboratory fatigue test at Wright-Patterson AFB. Ensuing tests confirmed that the frame retained considerable strength after cracking. Republic had suitable adapters and

tools to do the corrective work required.

In June 1962, following two major accidents at Nellis AFB, all F-105B and D aircraft were grounded for correction of chafing and flight control deficien-

F105D Thunderchief

cies. The project, referred to as Look Alike and started in July, was expected to be done quickly, but continuous operational difficulties caused it soon to grow into an extensive, $51 million modification program. The 2 year spanned modifications, grouped under Look Alike, were accomplished in two phases, the first of which was completed in November 1962 by the Air Force with the assistance of several technicians from Republic. The second phase, extended to include a dual in-flight refueling capability for the last 20 F-1051s pro-duced, was done entirely by Republic and did not end until mid 1964.

Despite the successful completion of Look Alike, the efficiency of the F105-Ds had not peaked. At the time production ended in early 1964, they experi-enced a series of accidents due to engine failures, fuel leaks, and malfunctions of the fuel venting systems. This in turn added a shortage of J-75 engines to the similar problems hampering F-105D operations from 1964 through 1968.

F-105Ds, flying from Korat AB, began striking carefully selected targets north of the 17th parallel in early 1965. While participating in tactical air strikes over South Vietnam, in 1966 and subsequent years, they carried out more strikes against the North than any other USAF aircraft. Operating against ever stiffening defenses, the F-105Ds also led in SEA battle losses. The steady loss of F 105 aircraft to enemy action, accidents, and normal attrition necessitated urgent repairs, cannibalization of the more badly damaged aircraft, and deple-tion of USAFE and TAC inventories. TAC's resources for training and support of the combat effort were also reduced.

The F-105Ds were repeatedly modified to meet changing SEA combat require-ments. They were equipped with armor plates, backup flight control systems, X band beacons, new radar altimeters and ASG 19 gun bombsights. Primarily designed to carry nuclear bombs, their conventional bombing capability was increased. The pilot ejection seat of all F-105 aircraft was improved as were the refueling probes of the early F-105Ds. Modifications, first impeded by sparse funds often were delayed by technical difficulties. A most important

and complex modification (putting ECM pods on the aircraft's wings) began in 1966 and consumed several years. Another crucial modification, started in 1966 and hindered by numerous problems, would give 30 F-105Ds improved visual bombing accuracy, a more precise navigation system, and a better blind bombing capability. An overriding problem was the poor reliability and rising cost of the AN/ARN-85 LORAN system first considered. This problem per-sisted until new testing began at Eglin AFB in September, 1969. The T-Stick II/Loran prototype aircraft was then equipped with the AN/ARN 92 (produced by International Telephone and Telegraph) and successfully flight tested. Still, modification of the 30 aircraft was not completed until late July, 1971.

As war losses foretold its gradual removal, the F-105 was increasingly praised for its payload, range, and exceptional speed at low altitudes. It was praised as the "hardest worker" of the Vietnam War by pilots who regretted that the planes were not being replaced. Loaded with twelve 750 1b bombs, the F-105D was faster than any other available USAF aircraft flying under the same conditions.

There were no other configurations. Production of a reconnaissance version of the F-105, after progressing through a February 1954 mockup inspection, was cancelled on 20 July 1956. Amendment No. 2 to the revised GOR of Novem-ber 1957, published on 7 December 1960, reinstated as well as enlarged the project by calling for a reconnaissance version of the F-105 model series D. The new reconnaissance aircraft, while retaining the strike capability of the F-105D, would be equipped with a pod containing side looking radar, infrared sensors and a variety of cameras. In flight development of films and ejection of film casettes were included in the specific. operational requirements issued in December 1960. Revival of the project, however, was of short duration. One year later, on 23 December the new RP-105 contract was terminated in favor of a reconnaissance version of the F-4C Phantom II, soon to be produced by the McDonnell Aircraft Corporation. SOR 49-2 was cancelled on 30 April 1962, its requirements being transferred to SOR 196, issued for the RF-4C in the spring of 1962.

The Air Force accepted 17 F-105Ds in FY 60, 149 in FY 61, 171 in FY 62, 198 in FY 63, and 75 in FY 64.

F105D Thunderchief

The F-105Ds began to see action in Southeast Asia 1 year later. Ensuing battle losses were considerable, and reopening of the production line was considered in mid 1967. The project, however, did not materialize. The Flyaway Cost Per Production Aircraft was $2.14 million-airframe, $1,472,145; engine (installed), $244,412; elec-tronics, $19,346; armament, $167,621; ordnance, $19,346. Phasing out of remaining F l05Ds (roughly one fourth of some 600 productions) took shape in November 1970, when two ANG units were alerted to their impending conversion. F-105Ds began reaching the 184th Tactical Fighter Training Group, McConnell AFB, and the 192d Tactical Fighter Group (TFG), Byrd Field, Va., in Janu-ary 1971. Conversion of a third ANG unit, the 113th TFG, Andrews AFB, Md., swiftly followed. By mid 1973 USAF active rolls showed 6 F-105Ds left-two were used for special tests, the other four for training. As war losses foretold its gradual removal, the F-105 was increasingly praised for its payload, range, and exceptional speed at low altitudes. It was praised as the "hardest worker" of the Vietnam War by pilots who regretted that the planes were not being replaced.

Loaded with twelve 750-1b bombs, the F-105D was faster than any other available USAF aircraft flying under the same conditions.

F105D Thunderchief

Feature - Manchester, UK.Rob Skinkis

Editor

Thanks for your response to the start of my aviation blog from Manchester, England. This was begun to allow me to directly upload images to the lo-cal aviation society “The Aviation Society” (TAS’s Blog @ wordpress.com) which has only just started; but I also decided to begin putting images on my own blog.

I have been an aviation (and other subjects) photographer for many years and have a large collection of slides and digital images, and regularly have mate-rial published in hard copy magazines in England.

Rob SkinkisLancashire,ENGLAND Editors Note : Utilised the Low Resolution images for publication to show the amazing pictures of commercial aircraft seen by Rob Skinkis at Manchester (MAN). Check out the Aviation Society blog on Wordpress©

PH-EZB Emb190 KLM MAN 17.01.09These are now appearing on City Hopper routes throughout Europe.

G-WWBB A33.2 BMI MAN 05.01.09and G-WWBMSoon to be no more at Manchester, as intercontinental routes are to be centred on LHR.

All Rights Reserved - Rob Skinkis©

5Y-KYE B73.8W Kenyan Airways MAN 14.01.09Diverted from LHR due to flow control delays. On delivery to Kenya.

AP-BEU A31.3 PIA MAN 06.01.09Now operating on their routes to Islam-abad rather than their B777s.“Gateway to the East” c/s

D-AHXE B73.7W Hapag Lloyd MAN 05.01.09Departing RW 05L. With a blue winglet from its previous c/s

Feature - Manchester, UK.Rob Skinkis

McDonnell Douglas AV-8B Harrier II

All Rights Reserved Matthew Ottosen ©2009Editor’s Pick off Flickr®

Just In - AirCam

Images Copyright http://www.aircam.comLockwood©

By Todd Wood

Did you ever wonder what the blue and white logo for BMW cars and mo-torcycles represents. Until a few weeks ago it was something I occasionally wondered about while sitting at a red light beside one of these vehicles. Co-incidentally, the Bavarian colors and how their were used for the Bavarian Motor Works logo ties in to Bill Leftwich’s lifelong passion.He greeted me at the front gate of a grass airstrip, off Highway 204, on his 1972 BMW motorcycle. Again, the question enters my mind as I look at the logo on the side of his bike. Soon I would have the answer to my question.It was and still is the highlight of his life. Prior to beginning his career with Gulfstream, Leftwich built an experimental twin engine aircraft and flew it over Africa.Pooler resident Bill Leftwich grew up in an airline family, traveling the world in his early youth as his father was a pilot for Pan Am’s Latin American divi-sion out of Miami.In 1960, at the age of 13, Bill moved to Frankfurt, Germany where his Father began flying the Inter German Service for Pan Am. After graduating from Frankfurt American High School in 1965, Bill made his way back to the States to attend Miami-Dade Junior College. After college, he joined the United States Coast Guard, and after four years of service, he used the GI Bill to go back to school. This time, he attended a technical school where he obtained an Airframe and Powerplant license at the National Aviation Academy in St. Petersburg, Florida.Bill’s interest in airplanes and flight was born into him. As a young boy, Bill remembers building model airplanes, but eventually the desire to fly an air-craft, like his father, propelled him into a lifelong career working with, flying and building aircraft.In 1980, he was hired by Eastern Airlines as an A&P mechanic. It was his dream job, and he thought he would work there for the rest of his life. How-ever, after 12 years on the job, Eastern Airlines announced that they would be

shutting down, so Leftwich began looking for work.He already had his pilot’s license, but could not afford his own airplane. However, his desire to soar above earth would lead him on the most exciting adventure of his life. While at Eastern Airlines, Bill became involved in fabri-cating and flying ultra light aircraft.He built his first ultra light aircraft, a three-quarter replica of a Piper Cub, out of spare parts. It weighed 350 pounds empty, had one seat, and topped out at 60 miles per hour on 30 horsepower.During this time, Bill met Phil Lockwood, the owner of an aviation supply business in Sebring, FL. Soon thereafter, Bill went to work for Lockwood, the same person that had sold him most of his parts he had needed to build his first aircraft.Lockwood was already building and flying ultralight type planes for Jen & Des Bartlett, a husband and wife who lived in Namibia - two of the best known photographers for National Geographic in all of Africa.When photojournalist Nick Nichols needed a plane to do a story about the Ndoki rain forest in the Congo for National Geographic, the Bartletts recom-mended Lockwood for the job of designing and building a very light twin engine plane to be used as an aerial photography platform.The first twin-engine Air Cam, used for the Ndoki story, was perfect for fly-ing over the jungle - it was a safe and reliable plane. When he got back to the states, Lockwood decided to go into production and sell the Air Cam as an experimental kit.Bill helped to design the production Air Cam, and eventually built over 20 planes for customers all around the world. It changed his life forever. Bill not only would see Africa for the first time, but he would get to experience seeing Africa in a way very few people had ever seen.Bill wrote an article featured in the May 2008 issue for Gulfstream’s newslet-ter about his first trip to Africa where he first flew the Air Cam.Entitled, The Lion Sleeps Tonight, Leftwich wrote about his initial flight that took him down the Vaal River. It was the first time he actually got to see South Africa from five hundred feet up, and he was amazed at how modern the cities actually were. He explained, in the article, that it was much like flying over an American city. He flew low over sparsely populated villages and watched as children ran excitedly into the streets to follow them. They waved at everyone

The Aircam from “The pooler®”http://www.thepooler.com

they saw and it was probably the first time the villagers had ever waved back to an airplane flying overhead.He took several people for air rides where they observed many of Africa’s most exotic wildlife and harsh terrain. It was an experience like no other, both for Bill and for many of his passengers who had never flown before. He returned two years later with another aircraft, built at Lockwood Aviation, and he is equally excited about his return to Africa next month where he will fly the same Twin Cam once again.Bill has lived in Pooler for two years, after moving to the area to be closer to his son and his family. Bill’s son, Brian, also followed in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps. He too flies ultra light aircraft and is employed by Gulfstream.In his spare time, Bill enjoys rebuilding and riding BMW motorcycles. “Do you see the logo,” says Leftwich - pointing to his bike, parked in a hanger at Hodges Airfield.My curiosity stirs eagerly as Bill begins to first tell me how BMW got its start. “During World War I, BMW built aircraft engines for war planes,” said Left-wich. “The blue and white logo represents a spinning plane propeller. When the armistice was signed, they could no longer make engines for war weapons, so they took the technology and started making engines for motorcycles. Then, around 1925, they made the first BMW motorcycle - long before they ever made the BMW car.”Leftwich, a witty and humorous man, likes it when someone in a BMW pulls up beside him, on his bike, in traffic. “They always say - I never knew BMW made motorcycles, and my response is - I never knew they made cars,” he joked.When he’s not busy building experimental aircraft, or joking with BMW car owners, Leftwich occupies his time with the local Experimental Aircraft Asso-ciation (EAA). While in Sebring, he was a member of Highlands County EEA Chapter where he became an EAA Technical Counselor and Flight Advisor.When he moved to Pooler he joined the local EAA Chapter and also volun-teers as a technical counselor and flight advisor for all EAA chapters in South-east Georgia.

He wouldn’t give details, but Leftwich is working on a project that will be one of the most unique recreational crafts ever thought of.

Official Titles:William S. Leftwich A&P mechanic with IA (inspection authorization) EAA Technical Counselor EAA Flight Advisor AB-DAR (Amateur Built - Desig-nated Airworthiness Representative for the FAA)

Phil Lockwood, president and CEO of Lockwood Aviation Supply, says that faster airplanes are for transportation, but ultralight planes are pure fun!

After graduating from the Florida Institute of Technology in Melbourne with a bachelor of science in Air Commerce and Flight technology and a four year business degree, Lockwood first did sales and demo flights for Maxair. He was later promoted to director of marketing and sales, but left in 1988 when the company assumed new management.

He began traveling to countries such as Taiwan, Spain and South Africa, where he flew as a bush pilot and worked as a consultant to help establish airparks. Before long, some of these overseas companies wanted Lockwood to supply them with U.S. manufactured gauges and ultralight products.

Lockwood began ordering these items and shipping them overseas, and so in 1989 Lockwood Aviation Supplywas born. The company, located at Sebring Regional Airport in Florida, is now the largest service center for Rotax Air-craft engines in North America and a major source for all types of Light Sport Aircraft parts and accessories.

The AirCam

Lockwood designed and built the AirCam, an innovative twin-engine design ultra light, for a special National Geographic research project about the Ndoki Rain forest in northern Congo. Equipped with cameras, it was the perfect fly-ing machine to get a close-up look at the forest without trekking through the insect infested growth.

Limited landing options in the rainforests made the second engine vital as an extra layer of protection in the remote, harsh area. If the plane went down and there were injuries, the crew probably would not make it out. Lockwood and still photographer Nick Nichols flew daily over the thick Ndoki rainforest in central Africa searching for wildlife to photo-graph. It took a year to complete the 43-page article.

After traveling to Ndoki twice, Lockwood decided that since the airplane flew so well and was so enjoyable, other people would want one just for fun – and he was correct. He super-vised the development and production of the AirCam as a fast build kit plane while serving as president of Leza Lockwood Corp. in Sebring. He later sold his interest in the company and focused his energies on his aviation supply company.

John Moody Award

The U.S. Ultralight Association recently awarded Phil Lock-wood the John Moody Award for his accomplishments in ultralight aviation over the last 26 years. The award is the highest and most prestigious award honoring the history and development of ultralight sport aviation. The award is pre-sented annually to a living individual or organization that has made significant contributions or advancements of enduring value in the sport of ultralight aviation in the United States.

Lockwood has more than 2,500 hours accumulated in more than 100 different types of aircraft, and according to the U.S. Ultralight Association, Lockwood has become one of the most sought after speakers on the ultralight seminar circuit.

Ricardo’s AirCam II at FAKR. Gulfstream’s Chief Engineer bolts the aircraft together. Pilot sits in the rear, cameraman in the front. Unrestricted views, cruise at 75MPH and a twin-rating.

Gulfstream’s Chief Engineer sets up the Rotax Motors.

Cameraman Cockpit

Material and Images from an EAA Sport Aviation publication.All Rights Reserved. Copyright EAA Sport Aviation©

As I lumber up to EAAer John Shaw’s AirCam, a giant yellow beast of a two-seater, I wonder what it is about am-phibious floats that make even a Piper Cub look larger than life. I strap myself into its four-point harness designed tosecure the rear passenger to a simplyupholstered bucket seat and arrangemy headset cords. Here I go again, Ithink, as I take up the military-styleGentex helmet with integrated activenoise-reduction headset and glareshield. This is ostensibly to keep thehordes of Everglades’ mosquitoes outof my eyes. It’s up to me to keep themout of my teeth. John demonstrateshow to snap and tighten my chinstrap, then turns to take care of busi-ness up front. He flips the oversized airline-style, rubber-sheathed switches, pushes the throttles forward and turns the fuelshut-off knobs, and with the push ofa button the two Rotax 912S power-plants mounted above my head purrto life. At approximately 4000 rpm,the engines each produce 100 hp while burning just 3 gallons per hour each. This gives roughly 200 hp to lift the AirCam on amphibious compositefloats. The aircraft’s empty weight is just less than 1,600 pounds; maximumgross weight is 2,100 pounds. At maxi-mum gross, that puts John’s AirCam just under the empty weight of a stock Cirrus SR20, with the same

horsepower to pull it into the air. Unlike most aircraft retrofitted with amphibious floats, John’s floatplane has horsepower to spare. Better yet, horsepower is divvied up into twoequal and independent power sources placed as close to the aircraft’s centerline as possible, affording him the best possible single-engine performance in the case of an engine-out situ-ation. It’s not the prettiest bird on the block;even with its canary yellow paint, it comes off gangly and, well, really, really tall for something with Dacron wings and a tandem open cockpit. But the AirCam is a homebuilt airplane that John (EAA 249489), a retired airline pilot, fell in love with on sight. As we bump down the taxiway at Wellington Aero Club’s turf strip, I am thankful for the accu-mulator struts attached to the extra large 10-inch retractable nose wheels on the floats thatabsorb the brunt of the rough ride. After a few brief run-up checks, we roll out to Runway 33 and announce our departure. With just a nudge of John’s left hand, the hummers above myhead crescendo to a raucous whine. Soon we’re at 50 knots and rotating off the ground. The AirCam’s big, rectangular wings cush-ion the burbles right out of the mid-morning south Florida thermal action. John retracts the gear, and I watch as the lights on his panel cycle from green to blue. He points to the float tips, where manual indicators there do the same, and finally to the dual parabolic

mirrors mounted on the struts, where, with a glance, he can confirm his main gear is up. He reduces power to 4000 rpm, and we level at 1,000feet. Moving along at about 70 knots, he offers the controls to me. With a full set of basic instruments (including a Garmin 295) in front of me and a decent forward view over John’s shoulder, it’s a cinch flying the docile, nicely balanced AirCam from the rear. I can see ahead of us, through my own cus-tom windscreen, and I also can see a goodly portion of the frontseater’s full instrument flight rulesmain panel, which includes a Garmin 496, a Sigma Tek electric attitude gyro, and a 2-inch Becker AR 4201 transponder, as well as the controls for the PS Engineering PM501 inter-com. The aircraft’s oversize tail, reachingnearly 8 feet high on these Clamar floats, easily compensates for the additional yaw-ing, pendulum-like effect that is often a characteristic of floatadapted aircraft. The airplane’s large ailerons and elevator (all with additional stiffening for the seaplane appli-cation) give the AirCam handling qualities akin to a big bore Cessna high-wing aircraft. Electric elevator trim takes out the challenge of handling the machine, which at first glance comes across as an ultralight Drifter on heavy steroids. I find myself able to use fin-gertip pressures on the stick to coax N40EEright, left, up, or down at will. With the wind in my face and the sea of grass that is the eastern gate to the Everglades National Park below, I feel

John chose Calmar floats for his AirCam. Since they were the first installation of these floats on this type of aircraft, Clamar owner Clair Sceli came down to Florida with technical advisor Tim Smith to help with the installation.

The front panel is fully equipped for flying in IFR conditions, and includes a Garmin 496, a Sigma Tek electric atti-tude gyro, and a 2-inch Becker AR 4201 transponder.

like I am a pterodactyl cruising for its next meal. On John’s com-mand, I ease the beast down to 300 feet near a drainage pond that he pointed out as our water-landing site. Now he takes over. I watch as he runs through his waterlanding checklist with airline pilot preci-sion. He confirms the landing gear is up (blue light, blue manual indicators on the float tips, and in the parabolic mirrors angled to reflect the position of the main gear). We clear the area and swing around onto final approach. With the deftness of a swan, John sets N40EE gracefully onto the glassy containment pond. As we putter downwind, John tells me that N40EE is not the first AirCam he’s built. “I discovered the AirCam when my neighbor got into one and convinced me to go to the factory with him to take a demo ride. This was in the mid 1990s, just after Phil Lockwood came back from do-ing his National Geographic bit in the Congo, which is what the air-plane was originally designed for,” he explains. “I loved it. I loved the safety of it, and the performance. I wasn’t looking for a traveling machine; I was looking for an airplane I could have fun in. I got serial No. 10.” John built that AirCam with his buddy Sal Arena, in Sebring, Florida, and flew it for a number of years. When he decided to create an AirCam on floats in 2003, he wanted the advantages of an upgraded AirCam fuselage. “I wanted to beef it up for the

floats from day one,” he recalls. The second aircraft, N40EE, was finished in 2004, constructed completely in John’s Wellington Aero Club hangar.Not content with even a late-model stock AirCam, John studied the kit and made adjustments where he felt he needed to. The result was an airplane that won best metal amphibian at the 2007 Sun ‘n Fun Fly-In at Lakeland, Florida. “I sanded off and filled all of the Avex and Cherry Max rivets, to give the airplane a smoother look,” says John. He also wrapped the leading edge spar of the AirCam’s wings with a foam rubber lip, which smoothed it, too, hiding the rib bolts that typically protrude from the Dacron sleeves that tightly wrap the wings. The roomy baggage area, which also holds the battery, is enclosed with a hatch that is secured with button latches made for Boeing 727 and 737 aircraft. The fiberglass nose cone comes off with a couple of camlock screws, revealing easy access to all of the pilot’s instrumentation and the GPS antenna, mounted on its own bracket. John used color-coded milspec wiring neatly bundled to make servic-ing his avionics and instruments child’s play. The stock throttle quadrant wasn’t to his liking, so he and Sal designed a streamlined box that would accommo-date fuel shut-off valves—another upgrade. Red fuel lights in the panel back up the position of the knobs, making it difficult for a pilot to attempt a takeoff with the valves in the “off” position. John and Sal also hid the throttle and fuel cables in aluminum tubing that runs the length of the cockpit area, blending nicely with the gray interior. Exterior cabling and tubing is either concealed in speed fairings or blends in with the shiny gray paint thatmatches the speed cuffs and fairings’ anodized alu-minum look. The engine valve covers were repainted yellow to match the airplane (stock Rotax is green), and the dual Warp Drive threebladed composite props with tough nickel leading edges are capped off by pol-ished aluminum spinners. All that and a great paint job are just the surface accoutrements, though. “I wanted a stiffer airplane for the floats, so we chose an O-24 thickness aluminum for the fuselage skin on each side and doubled up all the potential attach points for the floats that

Specifications for AirCam N40EEBuilder: John Shaw, Wellington Aero Club, Florida(Specifications are at gross weight, at mean sealevel, with no wind except where specified.)Engines: Two 100-hp Rotax 912SGross Weight: 1,680 pounds on wheels,2,100 pounds on floatsEmpty Weight: 1,186 pounds on wheels,1,519 pounds on floatsUseful Load: 494 pounds on wheels, 581pounds on floatsStall Speed: 39 mphCruise Speed: 50 to 100 mphVNE (never exceed speed): 110 mphRate of Climb: 1,000 fpmSingle Engine: 150 fpmFuel Capacity: 29 gallonsFuel Burn: 6 gphRange: 315 miles at 70 mphEndurance: 4.5 hoursLanding Roll: 300 feet on land, 100-300feet on waterTakeoff Roll: 500-800 feet on land, 5-8seconds on waterDimensionsWingspan: 36 feetLength: 27 feetHeight: Vertical stabilizer 8 feet 4 inches onwheels, approximately 12 feet on floats (varieswith installation)Width: Center section, 7 feetGear width: 8 feet 6 inches (float widthvaries with installation)Lockwood Aircraft Corporation1 Lockwood LaneSebring, FL 33870863-655-4242 info@lockwood-aviation.comwww.lockwoodaircraft.comClamar Model 2200 Float SpecificationsLength: 16 feet 4 inchesWidth:-Tail: 20 inches-Mid: 29 inches-Nose: 19.5 inchesHeight: 23.5 inches (highest point)Compartments: Six, all accessible with6-inch spin-off covers or baggage doorsMain baggage compartment: 11- by21.75-inch openingWheels:-Mains: 5.00-5 with 15-inch tires, 6.00-5onrequest-Azusalite Nose: 4.00-5, full 10-inch wheel,4.5 inches wideClamar Floats15099 Sixteen Mile RoadR.R. #2, Denfield, ONCanada N0M 1P0519-225-2399info@clamarfloats.comwww.ClamarFloats.com

I knew were coming,” says John. Thatalso played into the decision to stiffenthe ailerons and elevators and double up the attachments there, too. Even with all that beefing up, the finished airplane weighed in at less than 1,160 pounds empty, leaving a useful load of 524 pounds. Plenty for two passengers and 29 gallons of fuel. After flying the airplane on wheels for nearly two years, John finally found what he thinks are the perfect floatsfor his airplane. The Clamar amphibious floats are the brain-child of Clair Sceli, who manufactures them near London, Ontario, Canada. The floats are constructed from an epoxy vacuum- bagging process that uses infusion with a Corcell base foam and carbon fiber, which results in an exceptionallytight, strong, and light float (8 percent to 12 percent lighter than comparable aluminum floats). The floats added 300 pounds to his AirCam, so John went back to the experimental drawing board and re-certificated his aircraft to a higher use-ful load of 2,100 pounds, preserving his fuel and payloadcapabilities. All Clamar floats include a Kevlar sister keelson in the step area, as well as 3- and 4-inch gussets lengthwiseand around the bulkheads, near the points where the spreader bars attach. The amphibious 2200 floats that John chose use an Oildyne 108 series electric hydraulic pump set at 500 psi to hold the wheels up for water landings or, with the flip of a switch, move the wheels down and hold them slightly over center against a rubber backstop that also absorbs the bumps. The oversized 10-inch nose wheels and 15-inch mains are ideal for John’s grass-field operations. “These floats are tight,” he says, pointing out that the only water he’s ever seen inside the six bulkheads—just a few drops—came in from an inspection port that had not been sealed properly. Fitting the

floats was a challenge made easier by the Florida arrival ofClamar owner Clair Sceli. “Since we were the first AirCam installation, Clair was kind enough to come down here with Tim Smith, his technical advisor, to lend us a hand and their expertise,” recalls John. Every float installation is a little dif-ferent, and this is especially the case when it comes to custom homebuilts such as the AirCam. As with many things in experimental aviation, the first installation was not the charm.“You’re basically asking the airplane to be a boat when it’s on the water, and you’re asking the floats to fly in the air,” says John. “It requires a bit of ingenuity to make the necessary compromises and come out with something that does both jobs well.” On the first go around, the float team mounted the fuselage a few inches too far forward on the floats and expe-rienced a tendency for the floats to submarine because of the position of the center of floatation. They quickly rectified the situation by shifting the fuselage back about 4 inches on thefloats and spreading the floats about 10 inches farther apart. “We had to cut all new struts and spreader bars,” says John, “but it worked.” The airplane was far more stable on the wa-ter and on the land, and its handling characteristics, on water especially, were tamed. Once they’d wrestled with stability and center of flotation issues, they de-installed the floats for a third time and beefed up the attaching hardware before thefinal installation. All this sounds like a lot of work, and it was, but it was work made easier by the correct tools. John and his friends built a homemade gantry crane inside his hangar that allowed him to lift the entire airplane in one piece into theair for each float fitting. He maintains that he can have the airplane back on wheels in a matter of a couple of hoursbecause the gantry makes it so simple. As we maneuver in the

With the wind in my face and the sea of grass that is the eastern gate to the Ever-glades National Park below, I feel like I am a pterodac-tyl cruising for its next meal.

drainage pond, it’s easy to see that the floats are sitting right on their sweet spot now. Water handling, even without waterrudders, is positive. John left them off as a nod to simplicity. Again, the big AirCam tail sitting up in the slipstream of the twin propellers makes maneuvering on top of the water easy. John demonstrates step taxis and plow taxis, takeoffs, and a few landings. The Clamar’s sweet spot is at a natural pitchattitude and plenty fat for a novice to find, exhibiting no undue tendencies toward porpoising or submarining. “Ah, our friends,” chuckles John, as we dillydally in a drainage canal inside 8- to 10-foot walls of water grasses. From every direction, I suddenly notice beady black eyes studying our lanky yellow craft from the waterline. Alligators—at least a dozen—are curiously closing in on us. It definitely feels like time to move on. John hits the power and the gators sub-merge. Within five seconds, we’re off the water and rising above the undulating grasses, heading east, back to the rela-tive comforts of civilization. Looking down at the deceptively pastoral grasslands, ponds, and canals below, I quickly under-stand the charm of the two Rotax engines, especially when it only takes one of the engines to keep the airplane in flight until you can find a safe and accessible landing site. The first landing site we come to, of course, is Wellington. John runs the pre-landing checklist for terra firma and positions the gear handle down. There is no perceptible center of gravity change as I watch his panel lights cycle from blue to green while thefloat-tip manual indicators move to match the lights. Finally, I look in the mirrors and see those big 15-inchers down and locked. As we float in the morning sky over ranches and turf onto final, I notice that our flare height is nearly that of a Ces-sna 206 on floats. Lucky for me, the shock absorbers in the mains and the nose gear make even my first attempt at a land-ing presentable. More than likely it is the responsiveness ofthe twin Rotaxes whirring back to life above and behind me when I nudge the throttles in the flare that saves me. I’m lik-ing this two-engine thing more and more. Back on the ground we taxi up to John’s hangar. He pirouettes the machine ith a combination of differential thrust and braking to shut it downnext to my noticeably diminutive Kitfox IV. Now it’s my turn to laugh. These two yellow airplanes, sitting side-byside, were both borne of the homebuilt revolution that kept generalaviation afloat in this country during the toughest years, between 1986 and 1996, when no factories were pumping out light aircraft (at least not in the United States). The two

aircraft have a lot in common, I tell John. They were built byprofessional pilots looking for an aircraft that is good for just one thing—pure, unadulterated flying fun. John pops off his Gentex helmet and turns to me, but he doesn’t need to talk. the sparkle in his eye and an ear-to-ear grin tell me all I need to know.

Within five seconds, we’re off the water and rising above the undulating grasses, heading east back to the relative comforts of civilization.

The AirCamThe twin-engine, open-cockpit Lockwood AirCam came into existence to serve a need. Phil Lockwood had been flying a Maxair Drifter for National Geographic Society (NGS) photographers Des and Jen Bartlett in Southwest Africa, but NGS had a new mission. It wanted Phil to fly photographer Nick Nichols over the Ndoki Rain Forest in the Republic of the Congo. That was May of 1993. While Phil was enthused about the opportunity, he wasn’t enamored with the idea of flying a single-engine airplane over a forest of 300-foot trees with no alterna-tive landing sites. He needed a twin-engine airplane. Ini-tially, Phil thought he’d simply enlarge the dimensions of the Drifter, but that didn’t work. Once he started beefing up the airframe to handle two Rotax 582 engines (now the aircraft comes with twin 912 or 912S engines), the need for larger wings and tail surfaces became appar-ent. Thus, the AirCam was born. Six months later, the first AirCam was shipped to Africa. (Read the story of the Ndoki flying experience, “Air Cam Adventure in the Congo,” in the August 1995 issue of EAA Sport Avia-tion.) In 1994, Phil displayed a second AirCam at the Sun ’n Fun Fly-In in Lakeland, Florida. Cubanborn flying en-thusiast Antonio Leza took it for a flight and offered to go into partnership with Phil to produce the grasshop-per-like machine. A few years later, Antonio purchased the full rights to the design while Phil concentrated on developing Lockwood Aviation Supply and Lockwood Engine Repair. Earlier this year, Phil purchased the de-sign rights and production tooling from Antonio. The AirCam has come full circle. Phil is in the process of re-establishing an AirCam kit production line. He’ll also reintroduce the Drifter later this year.—Mary Jones.

DC-3 DC-4 Flickr® Group catches up with over 200 Members

Latest Editor’s Selecton

Copyright Robert G. Henderson

Dakota KN353 G-AMYJYorkshire Air Museum

Opb Florida Air Transport;Douglas C-54G Skymaster (DC-4)OPF1/10/09

DC4.N406WA

Copyright @Airliners (Brian)©

Germany, Rheinland-Pfalz, Speyer, Technik Museum Speyer, Air Inter (an Air France sub-sidiary company), Douglas DC3 Dakota. The workhorse par excellence -designed in 1935 and some DC3 s are still in the revenue earning business. In a way this Air Inter one is too.

©Christophe RAMOS

Photographe amateur depuis une petite vingtaine d'années, j'adore parcourir les campagnes et saisir l'instant quand il se présente, amateur de vielles pierres, le sud de la France est aussi mon domaine d'inspiration...Amoureux des Avions egalement, je puise ma source auprés des Aeroports...

In the rays of the setting sun... Ronald Hogenboom©

Competition On the left is a photograph - photographer unknown - of a DC-3 in Black & White. The image was taken in the 40’s in the USA and there is no photographer credited with the work. The print is being sold off a website as a lithograph, bordered and framed. This image has been used many times in the past and the editor has found it in the James Gilbert “The Great Planes” book, as well as in the folders of Microsoft®Flight Simulator 9 and 10.

The challenge to the eDIGImag® le Cirque Volant readers and subscribers is to simulate this picture, as close as pos-sible, and all entries will be judged by the picture editors.

All submissions should be ported to :

lecirquevolant@gmail.com

with the Subject header being “DC-3 Image Contest”.

Attached your image as a low resolution JPG with a hori-zontal dimension of 2000 pixels and a DPI of 72.

Do this before the end of Febuary 2009. Judging takes place soon there after and the winning image will be featured in Opening Gambit in the March 2009 issue of le Cirque Volant, along with the runners up in the Out Takes pages.

Prize ? the editors of eDIGImag® will arrange a 1Gb card for your digital camera, anywhere in the world.

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Copyright Andrew Schofield - SAAF DC-3 Turbine seen in Cape Town, South Africa

Pretty Close

Tail Piece

Tom Harnish© - Bug Masher from Flickr® Group ‘The Great Planes”

Steve Crane©

I'm fortysomething, a pro-grammer by trade and having spent most of my adult life behind a computer, my body shows it. I do like to go walk-ing down by the beach, with my camera of course, and when I can overcome my lazi-ness I even ride my bicycle.

@Rover75 ! / Andy Leonard©

I Can usually be seen with a Canon 40 or 20D round my neck.I'm just getting into Photography after buying a Fuji S7000 in April 2005. Norwich, UK

http://aglimages.co.uk/

Tail Piece

220E2554 Spanhoe 08Spanhoe 2008 “Operation Market Garden” Living History weekend.@ Maximum ‘Gee’ / paul bellamy©

Avid aviation fan, currently suffering from achronic illness wich prevents me from gettingout with my camera anywhere near as muchas i would like, and seriously restricts my movements when i do, so most of my shots have to be taken from 'ac-cesible' locations.

Tail Piece

@mountlaurelphotographer / Steve Walter©Mount Laurel, New Jersey, USA

Chester County Airport; Coatesville, PA, July 24, 2008