"Level it!" came a scream from the back seat of my , however, there was no need for it - I was already pulling the control lever with all my might!
Our 25-ton bomber, fueled to capacity, had a treacherous 40-degree nose tilt and shook violently as its wings cut through the airstream in an attempt to obey impossible commands.
At that moment, when we left the lower boundary of the cloud, through my Head Up Display (visualization system of flight parameters on the windshield), I saw even rows of fields on the ground: I felt uneasy.
The thing was bad.
A Ground Proximity Warning (GPW) warning sounded.
"WOOP, WOOP! – PULL UP, PULL UP!”
“7,6,5 – Tim, 400 feet left,” shouted the weapons system control officer (WSO).
We both knew that we were outside the parameters of the ejection system.
How did I get into such trouble?
Let's stop.
Yes, sometimes you just need to stop.
And, in fact, it may not be so easy, especially if you have been doing something for a long time and it has become a familiar routine for you.
For many of us, these can be bad habits such as smoking, drinking alcohol, gambling - things that have become the norm of life, but in no way benefit.
For others, it might be work habits—things you do over time that have become the rules of the job.
Although, sometimes things can be much worse.
Not so long ago, I learned about a plane crash, which shocked my colleagues so much that it gave rise to a discussion that sometimes the so-called. "accidents" should be
classified as something more deliberate.
“Accident is an unfortunate incident occurring suddenly and unintentionally, usually resulting in injury or damage.” – Oxford English Dictionary
It was a 2014 accident in which a Gulfstream IV business jet crashed in Bedford, Massachusetts after an experienced crew attempted to take off with the gust lock engaged. The locking mechanism is a device that locks the controls to prevent wind damage while the aircraft is parked. The takeoff was aborted at a late stage and the plane skidded off the runway, broke apart and caught fire, killing all on board.
The accident summary report concluded that before takeoff the crew did not attempt to check the controls: they tried to take off with the locking mechanism engaged and, realizing this, attempted to abort the takeoff, but it was too late.
Contributing factors included the crew's habit of ignoring checklists. In fact, five checklists were not met: such ignorance was standard practice within this organization.
If the checklist had been carried out, the locking mechanism would have been disengaged before the engine was started. In addition, an audit of the governing bodies would be carried out.
For professional aviators, however, it is clear that the report implies that what is in theory called "Deviance Normalization" was the cause of the crash.
The term was first used by sociologist Diane Vaughan in her book on the Challenger shuttle crash, The Challenger Launch Decision: Risky Technology, Culture, and Deviance at NASA. ).
“The social normalization of deviance means that people within the organization become so accustomed to deviant behavior that they do not consider it deviant despite the fact that they grossly violate elementary safety rules” - Diane Vaughan
The longer this situation takes place in the organization, the more familiar it is for the staff. Outsiders will consider this situation abnormal, but inside the organization it is a daily practice.
In some organizations, due to their large size, the described trend may be asymptomatic, even more ingrained.
In 2003, Diane Vaughan received an invitation to join the Challenger investigation panel and was able to clearly demonstrate that NASA had not learned from the previous shuttle accident, using the same degree of acceptable risk and shifting towards the normalization of risky operations.
“When we delved into the data, it became clear that the managers did not break any rules, but rather obeyed all the requirements of NASA. After analysis, I realized that these rules were somehow “not like that” - they differed from the usual order. People obeyed the need to meet the schedule, adjusting the rules on how to make risky decisions accordingly ”- Diane Vaughan on NASA internal errors.
NASA staff formed the rules , obeying its own estimates, which slowly degraded as the degree of urgency of the shuttle launch increased - we know how this happens.
As in the Gulfstream incident, the normalization of deviation often leads to a deterioration in the professional qualities of employees, which, in turn, leads to a slow and gradual degradation of safety culture.
I felt this keenly during my tenure as chief inspector of the largest air force in the Royal Air Force (RAF).
Due to the fact that many of my senior instructors left the squadron at the end of their tour of duty, we were tempted to qualify less experienced colleagues for more complex flight phases - much earlier than in the past.
And this led us to a dead end.
If we didn't qualify the young instructors, we would have to place an additional burden on the more experienced guys, increasing the risk of accidents due to their fatigue. But, if we were to hurry up with the qualification of young instructors, then such a risk would still increase - due to their inexperience.
There was no win-win.
Fortunately, there were external organizations we could turn to for help, such as the Central Flying School of the Royal Air Force, as well as psychologists from the Center for Aviation Medicine: in our case, a compromise was found.
However, sometimes it is too late.
In 2011, two of my friends, while members of the Red Arrows aerobatic team, died in crashes. Due to my extensive experience in piloting the Hawk T1 (the aircraft that the aerobatic team flies), I was ordered to join the commission of inquiry as a subspecialist, assisting in the writing of the final report.
The incident I was investigating - , in which, while trying to land after completing the program in Bournemouth, my friend died. Although the causes of the crash were mostly medical, our report pointed to many areas in which the aerobatic team suffered from "normalization of deviance."
As you can see, "normalization of deviance" is found not only in large organizations, but also in small, cohesive units, such as aerobatic teams or parts of special operations forces.
This happens because it is very difficult for people from outside to get the appropriate experience and knowledge in order to realize the “normality” of what is happening inside such a group.
I was talking to a member of a team that was tasked with evaluating the flying standards of RAF units the other day, and he told me that while testing a Red Arrows pilot, he found himself upside down 100 feet above the Scampton airfield runway in battle formation with two planes a couple of feet away.
How was he supposed to assess the normality of what was happening?
He couldn't and had to use his own experience along with the advice of the team members.
I once knew a flight commander who believed that his people were above outside opinions and that only he himself should evaluate and regulate their actions.
He was wrong.
In truth, sometimes evaluation should come partly from within the unit itself, but overriding external regulation and oversight is unacceptable.
Think of the 2008 global financial crisis, when many banks collapsed simply because they were not subject to external regulation, because they were able to convince the authorities that they themselves were able to regulate their activities.
Look at it like you're telling your friend that he's developing a bad habit.
Each of us would welcome such advice, even if we did not like it.
So, “normalization of deviance” is also found in individuals.
Take, for example, alcohol or drug addiction. As soon as you start using tobacco or alcohol, they quickly become the norm - in extreme cases, a person no longer remembers another "normality".
Sometimes this leads to the fact that those who follow this path do frankly stupid things.
Like me, for example, when I crashed his Tornado GR4 in Belgium in the mid-2000s.
Being a self-confident front-line pilot, I was sent to northern Europe to participate in international flight exercises. We had two aircraft and the agreement between the crew members was such that we do not change them - if any of the machines fails, then its crew is on the ground all the time until the aircraft is put into operation.
It was a good deal.
Until our plane broke down.
We performed very well during the exercises. Acting as a pair of bombers, we hit all our targets and were not shot down by the "Red" aircraft, which pretended to be enemies. It got to the point that at the beginning of the second week a targeted hunt began for us: the enemy wanted to boast that he shot down the planes of all participating countries.
However, in the second week only one Tornado was able to get off the ground, and it was not my plane.
Our plane had a problem with the landing gear or landing gear - it did not close; the chassis was not removed.
Aircraft technicians found significant and irreparable wear on the mechanical lock in the retracted position. Theoretically, it should have clicked at 0g, which meant that when cleaning
landing gear we had to lower the plane nose down.
I talked to my weapons system officer and we decided to give it a try.
We changed into flight uniforms and at a time when all the planes were in over
Northern Germany, took to the air to test the theory of our technique.
We raised the plane to 5000 feet, lowered the nose to 40 degrees, reached 0g and gave the command to retract the landing gear. It takes about 10 seconds to fold the mechanism, the maximum allowable speed of the aircraft when it is folded is 235 knots, which, as we realized, turned out to be insufficient - with a nose tilt of 30 degrees, we were very close to overspeeding.
We looked at the Flight Reference Cards and realized that we would have to reach 250 knots, which is the Never Exceed limit.
In a normal situation, the development of such a speed requires special approval, but then we felt the urgency and felt that we could justify ourselves.
We measured several parameters and were pleased that, with due care, we could continue to take part in the exercises.
After discussing our plan with the engineers and comrades from the second crew, we decided that everything was quite reasonable.
Until the next morning came.
The clouds covered heights from 4000 to 20000 feet - our room for maneuver was limited. If we succeed, we continue the sortie, if not, we need to burn 5 tons of fuel before landing.
We took off in the afterburner, then at an altitude of 200 knots I raised the nose up to 40 degrees, retracted the flaps and right before the edge of the cloud pushed the control lever away from me.
I then grabbed the landing gear control lever and moved it to the retract position.
"Come on, come on!" - I thought, while the nose of a 25-ton aircraft slowly fell over the horizon.
I switched the engine to low speed mode. At low speed, the big plane didn't maneuver well, and if the nose had dropped too low, it wouldn't have had time to level off before we hit the ground.
*Clunk,Clunk*
The landing gear was in the retracted position, and I switched the engines to full power and raised the nose to climb. There was plenty of time: we didn't even go below 2000 feet.
The plan worked.
For several sorties, we performed this procedure. Moreover, we managed to convince the dispatch service that what we are doing is normal.
However, people around suspected that something was wrong: they began to ask questions, like, for example, an American guy - an F-16 pilot, who also participated in the exercises:
“Guys, what the hell are you doing, for crazy maneuvers with a roller coaster on takeoff?” he asked one evening after a few beers.
"The landing gear does not retract while there is an overload," I replied.
“Oh, I get it — it just looks unusual for such a large aircraft, especially considering the amount of fuel on board,” he said.
I just smiled sheepishly.
The next few sorties were also quiet, and "roller coaster maneuvers" became our normal practice when taking off from the airfield.
I was told that the program director wanted to see me and, since I was sure that our conversation would be about our take-off stunts, I did my best to avoid him.
On the last day of our exercise, the weather was worse than in all two weeks, but we really wanted to return home, not wanting to be stuck in Belgium for another weekend.
At our morning briefing, we were told that the cloud base was at 1000 feet, lower than ever before. This meant that we had to be extremely careful when retracting the landing gear.
We took to the air and remained at low altitude. At 200 knots I pulled the nose up with all my might, but could only reach 30 degrees before we entered the cloud: that was something new.
I started to lower the nose, leaving the engine on afterburner in order to reach the required 0g.
"Chassis, come on!" I heard my WSO's voice shortly after "1200 feet Tim".
The nose was lowered by 20 degrees.
"Let's!" I screamed.
Things were going rough.
"Level in," came a shout from the backseat.
When we got out of the cloud, the nose of the car was lowered by 40 degrees and I realized that our affairs were sad.
There wasn't enough power—the plane's nose was rising too slowly to level off before we hit the ground.
The GPW warning sounded.
"WOOP, WOOP - PULL UP, PULL UP!"
“7, 6, 5 – 400 feet left, Tim!” shouted my WSO.
The plane was shaking despite the commands of the controls: it simply did not have enough flight qualities in order to get out of the dive.
Silence reigned in the cabin. The situation was worsened by the fact that, due to the high rate of descent, we did not have the opportunity to eject.
I fully extended the flaps and slats in order to increase the lift of the wing.
Its sudden increase led to the fact that the speed of the nose of the aircraft towards the horizon slightly increased.
The situation has improved.
I eventually managed to level the plane at 200-300 feet above the ground and slowly lifted the car back into the clouds.
The landing gear never retracted. A long and silent journey home awaited us.
I was an experienced pilot, just in the range where my overconfidence could lead to my death. The longer we performed the maneuver, the more confident we became.
We convinced ourselves that breaking the rules was good for the exercise and that what we were doing was important.
But in doing so, I almost crashed a £50 million military plane.
My actions to reach 0g in order to retract the landing gear after takeoff were a violation of the rules, but they became familiar to us - I actually believed that I was doing everything right.
I was wrong.
We were lucky that day, but as with my "normalization of deviance", there were early warning signs in the examples given:
- The Red Arrows aerobatic team had crashes in 2008 and 2010 with the loss of two aircraft. The squadron had its own unique way of piloting, as well as a level of training that is extremely difficult for an outsider to assess.
- NASA lost the Space Shuttle Challenger in 1986 due to negligence and continued to operate with a vicious culture of risk until the disaster of the Space Shuttle Columbia during its return to Earth in 2003.
- Everyone knows that jet pilots start their journey with a full bag of luck, while starting to fill an empty bag of experience - most of the accidents happen at around 700 hours of flying time. When I nearly crashed in Belgium, I had 650 hours.
"The trick is to fill the bag of experience before you empty the bag of luck."
Before you try to change the world, look back where you started.
Is it reasonable?
Have you deviated from what was normal for you?
I say "for you" because we are all different. We all have our own understanding, our own standards, but, in truth, we often deviate from them.
So not all at once.
Level up before you collapse.
Maybe you should focus on smoking cessation before you buy a £50 a month gym membership? Or stop eating chips and chocolate before you are fully committed to losing weight?
Do you know why, when you fly on a plane on vacation, they tell you to put on your own oxygen mask first, and then help the others?
Because if you don't help yourself, you can't help anyone.
Take time for yourself - it's not easy, but it's worth it.
When preparing for takeoff, I always check to see if the controls are obeying me, if anyone else is landing (so that he does not land on my head) and if the runway ahead is clear.
I also check if the correct flaps are engaged and if the ejection system is cocked.
I make sure that I obeyed the elementary rules of flight safety before undertaking it.
In this case, for example, if a bird gets into my engine and blows off the compressor blade on takeoff, I will give myself the best chance of coping with the situation.
Ask yourself “what is stopping me from becoming who I want to be?”
And then you can concentrate on getting back to the basics of "you."
Link to original post -
From the translator
The original article contains a number of technical terms related to the process of piloting aircraft, mixed, in addition, with military jargon. For me, as a person who is not familiar with this topic, it was sometimes difficult to find the correct wording for translation (I tried no matter what =). If you find a technical inaccuracy in my text, please write me a message!
Source: habr.com