Geronimo, Look Out Below

By:      Norm Goyer

The PT-22 was not the best trainer of World War II; many were destroyed in crashes due to low speed handling problems.

I have never jumped out of an airplane, came very close one time, but, I chickened out. What happened? I had recently purchased a Ryan PT-22 for $450.00, complete with two surplus parachutes. Neither the surplus primary trainer or the chutes were in pristine condition. But, they were cheap, and I was broke, as usual. I made some minor repairs to the airframe and to the Kinner 165-hp five-cylinder. It sounded like a John Deere tractor engine but seemed to run just fine. I am of the mindset that if something isn’t broke, I don’t fix it.

I had been flying a Fairchild PT-26 with a 200-hp in-line inverted six-cylinder engine and would love to spend my flying time doing leisurely loops and snap rolls over the Connecticut River in Northampton, Massachusetts. I depended on the river to keep the loops straight and I even attempted to come out of the snap rolls more or less on the same heading. A precision aerobatic pilot I was not. Uncle Sam had taught me that loused up aerobatics with a wild gyrating aircraft, seemingly out of control, were the hardest for the enemy to hit, that was me. Every time I landed one of my buddies would ask, ” What in hell was that you did over the Ox Bow?” Never could answer them truthfully so I used the old favorite, “That was a reverse whifferdill. Looked great didn’t it.” Many years later I was giving a television host from Hollywood a canyon ride in “Stormin’ Norman”, my SNJ-6 (Texan) and I managed, again, through precision sloppy flying snapped out of a loop and the big North American proceeded to teach me who was boss, and it surely wasn’t me. After taking a few seconds to figure out what the airplane was doing I recovered and landed, sure enough, “What was that maneuver——-etc etc?” \

“Oh that was my specialty, a reverse whifferdill.”

“Looked like you lost control to me?” Damn I hate passengers who know too much about flying. I later heard that my passenger had related his experiences on his daily game show. “Most exciting ride I ever had”, he said.

The author almost bailed out of the PT-22 he was flying when a section of the wing fabric ripped off. A decision was made to stay with the aircraft, fortunately it worked.

Whoops, forgot what I was talking about. Right, parachutes. Well one nice fall day I took off in the PT-22 and climbed out to 6,000 feet over the river. I had heard that the Ryan was not able to do a round loop, it was too draggy, too underpowered to motor over the top. Not with this superior pilot at the controls, I was determined to do a nice round loop and recover right through my entering slipstream and on course. I forget what the red line speed was, but I think it was in 180 to 190 mph range, so I firewalled the tractor engine, lowered the nose, and when the airspeed indicator was wavering around the red mark, I gently pulled the nose up into the start of a nice round loop. Dreamer, I made it almost to the inverted position and lift, gravity and lack of flying speed took over. I was now in a lead sled falling, not flying, but falling backwards. Still having some brain cells that were working, I kept my cool, and wiggled the controls in different directions until one combination got the nose back down and the rotation stopped. Oh wow! Look at that 220 mph. What’s that flapping noise? Whoops, one section of fabric on the starboard wing (right wing to you landlubbers) had peeled back and was draped over the aileron. My instructor’s voice came back to me, “Fly the airplane.” So I very gently brought it out of the dive and managed to keep the rest of the fabric and the wings on the airplane. I found that the Ryan would fly under control at a wide open throttle. I had enough aileron control, plus some very careful use of the rudder, to maintain a heading and altitude. It got squirrely when I slowed below 100 mph. I decided to “hit the silk”. This chute was so old it probably was silk. I unhitched and started to climb out of the cockpit. Then my few remaining brain cells starting questioning my latest dumb idea. I had never had this chute packed and recertified, it has been sitting in the open cockpit in the rain, I didn’t even know how old it is. So, I climbed back in the seat, hooked up my harness and headed for Barnes Airport, in nearby Westfield. They had an Air National Guard unit there and a wide, extra long runway. My plan was to land the airplane at 100 mph and when firmly on the wheels retard the throttle slowly until the plane was taxing. Barnes had a control tower and I had nothing, So I circled the tower, they saw the fabric flapping in the breeze, and shot me a green light. My next worry, would a tire blow, not if I flew the plane very gently onto the runway with no bounce, no swerving, just a grease job. The landing was the only thing that I did properly on that flight. It was fast, long and everything held together. The Ryan had  a strong landing gear, with a hinged forward section, that was very well sprung. After I taxied off the runway I borrowed some 100-mph tape (duct tape) and patched up the wing and flew home. My reputation was growing in Western Massachusetts, Norm’s in the sky, better wait until he lands.

The PT-22 was a committee revised version of the excellent Ryan ST-A, designed for military training. It was not an improvement.

Now does that mean I don’t trust parachutes? No, I mean follow the rules, your life will depend on the condition of the chute. Have it packed and take care of it, it is a lot more than a seat cushion. NG