Ejecting out of a fighter jet!!!

[gau8av]

Sometimes it can go horribly wrong but in this case, the airman survived.

LT Keith Gallagher is seen above the canopy as the A-6 aircraft touches down on the deck of the Lincoln.
Note that LT Gallagher's parachute has deployed and is wrapped around the tail of the aircraft.(Navy photo)

just looked that incident up, crazy



Lieutenant Keith Gallagher's Account of the Incident
Murphy's Law says, "Whatever can go wrong, will, and when you least expect it." (And, of course, we all know that Murphy was an aviator.) Murphy was correct beyond his wildest dreams in my case. Fortunately for me, however, he failed to follow through. On my 26th birthday I was blindsided by a piece of bad luck the size of Texas that should have killed me. Luckily, it was followed immediately by a whole slew of miracles that allowed me to be around for my 27th. Not even Murphy could have conceived of such a bizarre accident (many people still find it hard to believe), and the fact that I am here to write about it makes it that much more bizarre.

We were the overhead tanker, one third of the way through cruise, making circles in the sky. Although the tanker pattern can be pretty boring midway through the cycle, we were alert and maintaining a good lookout doctrine because our airwing had a midair less than a week before, and we did not want to repeat. We felt we were ready for "any" emergency: fire lights, hydraulic failures and fuel transfer problems. Bring 'em on! We were ready for them. After all, how much trouble can two JO's get in overhead the ship?

After my third fuel update call, we decided that the left outboard drop was going to require a little help in order to transfer. NATOPS recommends applying positive and negative G to force the valve open. As the pilot pulled the stick back I wondered how many times we would have to porpoise the nose of the plane before the valve opened. As he moved the stick forward, I felt the familiar sensation of negative "G", and then something strange happened: my head touched the canopy. For a brief moment I thought that I had failed to tighten my lap belts, but I knew that wasn’t true. Before I could complete that thought, there was a loud bang, followed by wind, noise, disorientation and more wind, wind, wind. Confusion reigned in my mind as I was forced back against my seat, head against the headrest, arms out behind me, the wind roaring in my head, pounding against my body.
"Did the canopy blow off? Did I eject? Did my windscreen implode?" All of these questions occurred to me amidst the pandemonium in my mind and over my body. These questions were quickly answered, and replaced by a thousand more, as I looked down and saw a sight that I will never forget: the top of the canopy, close enough to touch, and through the canopy I could see the top of my pilot's helmet. It took a few moments for this image to sink into my suddenly overloaded brain. This was worse than I ever could have imagined - I was sitting on top of a flying A-6!
Pain, confusion, panic, fear and denial surged through my brain and body as a new development occurred to me: I couldn't breathe. My helmet and mask had ripped off my head, and without them, the full force of the wind was hitting me square in the face. It was like trying to drink through a fire hose. I couldn't seem to get a breath of air amidst the wind. My arms were dragging along behind me until I managed to pull both of them into my chest and hold them there. I tried to think for a second as I continued my attempts to breathe.

For some reason, it never occurred to me that my pilot would be trying to land. I just never thought about it. I finally decided that the only thing that I could do was eject. (What else could I do?) I grabbed the lower handle with both hands and pulled-it wouldn't budge. With a little more panic induced strength I tried again, but to no avail. The handle was not going to move. I attempted to reach the upper handle but the wind prevented me from getting a hand on it. As a matter of fact, all that I could do was hold my arms into my chest. If either of them slid out into the wind stream, they immediately flailed out behind me, and that was definitely not good.

The wind had become physically and emotionally overwhelming. It pounded against my face and body like a huge wall of water that wouldn't stop. The roaring in my ears confused me, the pressure in my mouth prevented me from breathing, and the pounding on my eyes kept me from seeing. Time had lost all meaning. For all I knew, I could have been sitting there for seconds or for hours. I was suffocating, and I couldn't seem to get a breath. I wish I could say that my last thoughts were of my wife, but as I felt myself blacking out, all I said was, "I don't want to die."

LT Gallagher's upper-body and arm are seen above the canopy as the A-6 comes in for an emergency landing.
(Navy photo)


LT Gallagher is unconscious and his arms are outstretched from the wind blast as the A-6 lands on the deck of the Lincoln.
(Navy photo)

Someone turned on the lights and I had a funny view of the front end of an A-6, with jagged plexiglas where my half of the canopy was supposed to be. Looking down from the top of the jet, I was surprised to find the plane stopped on the flight deck with about 100 people looking up at me. (I guess I was surprised because I had expected to see the pearly gates and some dead relatives.) My first thought was that we had never taken off, that something had happened before the catapult. Then everything came flooding back into my brain, the wind, the noise and the confusion. As my pilot spoke to me and the medical people swarmed all over me, I realized that I had survived, I was alive.

It didn't take me very long to realize that I was a very lucky man, but as I heard more details, I found out how lucky I was. For example, my parachute became entangled in the horizontal stabilizer tight enough to act as a shoulder harness for the trap, but not tight enough to bind the flight controls. If this had not happened, I would have been thrown into the jagged plexiglas during the trap as my shoulder harness had been disconnected from the seat as the parachute deployed (see Technical Aspects of LT Gallagher's Mishap by a Navy Technician).
There are many other things that happened, or didn't happen, that allowed me to survive this mishap, some of them only inches away from disaster. These little things, and a s-hot, level headed pilot who reacted quickly and correctly are the reason that I am alive and flying today. Also, a generous helping of good old-fashioned Irish luck didn't hurt.

Kenneth Eugene - Lt. Keith Gallagher's Story
Irish Luck -... | Facebook

 

[Levina]

just looked that incident up, crazy



Lieutenant Keith Gallagher's Account of the Incident
Murphy's Law says, "Whatever can go wrong, will, and when you least expect it." (And, of course, we all know that Murphy was an aviator.) Murphy was correct beyond his wildest dreams in my case. Fortunately for me, however, he failed to follow through. On my 26th birthday I was blindsided by a piece of bad luck the size of Texas that should have killed me. Luckily, it was followed immediately by a whole slew of miracles that allowed me to be around for my 27th. Not even Murphy could have conceived of such a bizarre accident (many people still find it hard to believe), and the fact that I am here to write about it makes it that much more bizarre.

We were the overhead tanker, one third of the way through cruise, making circles in the sky. Although the tanker pattern can be pretty boring midway through the cycle, we were alert and maintaining a good lookout doctrine because our airwing had a midair less than a week before, and we did not want to repeat. We felt we were ready for "any" emergency: fire lights, hydraulic failures and fuel transfer problems. Bring 'em on! We were ready for them. After all, how much trouble can two JO's get in overhead the ship?

After my third fuel update call, we decided that the left outboard drop was going to require a little help in order to transfer. NATOPS recommends applying positive and negative G to force the valve open. As the pilot pulled the stick back I wondered how many times we would have to porpoise the nose of the plane before the valve opened. As he moved the stick forward, I felt the familiar sensation of negative "G", and then something strange happened: my head touched the canopy. For a brief moment I thought that I had failed to tighten my lap belts, but I knew that wasn’t true. Before I could complete that thought, there was a loud bang, followed by wind, noise, disorientation and more wind, wind, wind. Confusion reigned in my mind as I was forced back against my seat, head against the headrest, arms out behind me, the wind roaring in my head, pounding against my body.
"Did the canopy blow off? Did I eject? Did my windscreen implode?" All of these questions occurred to me amidst the pandemonium in my mind and over my body. These questions were quickly answered, and replaced by a thousand more, as I looked down and saw a sight that I will never forget: the top of the canopy, close enough to touch, and through the canopy I could see the top of my pilot's helmet. It took a few moments for this image to sink into my suddenly overloaded brain. This was worse than I ever could have imagined - I was sitting on top of a flying A-6!
Pain, confusion, panic, fear and denial surged through my brain and body as a new development occurred to me: I couldn't breathe. My helmet and mask had ripped off my head, and without them, the full force of the wind was hitting me square in the face. It was like trying to drink through a fire hose. I couldn't seem to get a breath of air amidst the wind. My arms were dragging along behind me until I managed to pull both of them into my chest and hold them there. I tried to think for a second as I continued my attempts to breathe.

For some reason, it never occurred to me that my pilot would be trying to land. I just never thought about it. I finally decided that the only thing that I could do was eject. (What else could I do?) I grabbed the lower handle with both hands and pulled-it wouldn't budge. With a little more panic induced strength I tried again, but to no avail. The handle was not going to move. I attempted to reach the upper handle but the wind prevented me from getting a hand on it. As a matter of fact, all that I could do was hold my arms into my chest. If either of them slid out into the wind stream, they immediately flailed out behind me, and that was definitely not good.

The wind had become physically and emotionally overwhelming. It pounded against my face and body like a huge wall of water that wouldn't stop. The roaring in my ears confused me, the pressure in my mouth prevented me from breathing, and the pounding on my eyes kept me from seeing. Time had lost all meaning. For all I knew, I could have been sitting there for seconds or for hours. I was suffocating, and I couldn't seem to get a breath. I wish I could say that my last thoughts were of my wife, but as I felt myself blacking out, all I said was, "I don't want to die."

LT Gallagher's upper-body and arm are seen above the canopy as the A-6 comes in for an emergency landing.
(Navy photo)


LT Gallagher is unconscious and his arms are outstretched from the wind blast as the A-6 lands on the deck of the Lincoln.
(Navy photo)

Someone turned on the lights and I had a funny view of the front end of an A-6, with jagged plexiglas where my half of the canopy was supposed to be. Looking down from the top of the jet, I was surprised to find the plane stopped on the flight deck with about 100 people looking up at me. (I guess I was surprised because I had expected to see the pearly gates and some dead relatives.) My first thought was that we had never taken off, that something had happened before the catapult. Then everything came flooding back into my brain, the wind, the noise and the confusion. As my pilot spoke to me and the medical people swarmed all over me, I realized that I had survived, I was alive.

It didn't take me very long to realize that I was a very lucky man, but as I heard more details, I found out how lucky I was. For example, my parachute became entangled in the horizontal stabilizer tight enough to act as a shoulder harness for the trap, but not tight enough to bind the flight controls. If this had not happened, I would have been thrown into the jagged plexiglas during the trap as my shoulder harness had been disconnected from the seat as the parachute deployed (see Technical Aspects of LT Gallagher's Mishap by a Navy Technician).
There are many other things that happened, or didn't happen, that allowed me to survive this mishap, some of them only inches away from disaster. These little things, and a s-hot, level headed pilot who reacted quickly and correctly are the reason that I am alive and flying today. Also, a generous helping of good old-fashioned Irish luck didn't hurt.

Kenneth Eugene - Lt. Keith Gallagher's Story
Irish Luck -... | Facebook

Lucky lieutenant!!
I still think that the Israeli pilot who was knocked unconscious by the bird made the most miraculous ejection ever. The chances of him crashing were very high.

 

[nair]

It is a navy carrier borne aircraft.

I know, i was highlighting the point of AC,

 

[Levina]

And so I heard that once it so happened that an aircraft landed safely despite being unpiloted. The pilot had to eject in an emergency.

The cornfield bomber!!!


"Reduction in weight and change in center of gravity caused by the removal of the pilot,coupled with the blast force of his seat rocketing out of the plane pushing the nose of the aircraft down,which had been trimmed by Faust for takeoff and idle throttle, caused the aircraft to recover from the spin.
One of the other pilots on the mission was reported to have radioed Faust during his descent by parachutethat "you'd better get back in it!".Faust watched incredulously as the now-pilotless aircraft descended and skidded to a halt in a farmer's field near Big Sandy, Montana.Faust drifted into the nearby mountains. He was later rescued by local residents using snowmobiles.

Shortly thereafter the local sheriff and local residents arrived at the scene of the crash. The thrust from the still-idling jet engine allowed the aircraft to slowly drift on its belly along a field. The sheriff, having contacted the air base, was informed that he should simply allow the jet to run out of fuel, which occurred an hour and forty-five minutes later without further incident.A recovery crew from McClellan Air Force Base arrived on the scene and began to dismantle the aircraft, removing its wings for transport aboard a railroad flat car. The damage to the aircraft was minimal; indeed, one officer on the recovery crew is reported to have stated that if there were any less damage he would have simply flown the aircraft out of the field.

 

[Khafee]

In most cases, Pilot spine get compresses due to ejection and It take times to decompress. Hence that's why after ejection, pilot gets temporarily grounded from flying

and have to go through compulsory physiotherapy.

 

[illuminatidinesh]

Even I expected that ejecting out would mean the pilot is safe. May be the high survival rates (of 92%) gives a layman such notions.
But then ejecting from a jet at high speed and with gravity working on you several times more than normal, landing back safe would be quite a feat. Now imagine if that happens in an enemy's territory!!!
These pilots must have nerves of steel to take up this profession.

LAnding behind enemy lines is another factor, and I assume 92% survival rates is that the pilot is alive- what these stastics dont reveal is the sustained or rather the chronic effects the ejection leaves in the pilot.
1. First the pilot is literally thrown out of the high speed menuvering flying object. The spinal cords come under extreme stress while ejecting.( now the ejection seats are relatively ok. Early models dint far much good) Two vetebreas compress the disc which may lead to acute spinal cord compression or chronic disc prolapse.
2. After ejection ( rather during ejection ) the pilot is put into sustained high Gs. No matter how much a pilot is put into training it takes a toll on his body. ( Blindness is one common issue with pilots in later stages of life). The ejecting pilots undergoes different levels of Gs depending on how is ejected( common for all of us to assume a pilot always ejects when plane is at level).
3. Low altitude ejection increses the risk many folds . Again spinal injuries are common.

In the Afghanistan B-1 bomber case, the pilot lost about an inch of height. Can they recover fully?

It is case specific. Physiologically he will return to normal height however the Military medical board has to declare him fit, which takes many parameters into account.

and have to go through compulsory physiotherapy.

Agree

 

[A.P. Richelieu]

In 2007, a very surprised Gripen C pilot found himself ejected from the plane during landing.
Altitude not known. The plane crashed at the end of the airport.

http://www.expressen.se/nyheter/skot-ut-sig-ur-planet/

The subsuquent investigation found that the pilot had unusually thick thighs, which pressed
at the ejection handle, triggering the ejection.
The ejection handle has been redesigned.