other side of the aircraft was quite pale and looked like he was about ready to puke.
Suddenly, the nose dipped down. Sharply. A cry of alarm escaped my lips, and although nobody could possibly have heard me over the sound of the rotors and engine, I glanced up at Matt in embarrassment. He hadn't heard. I knew better than to doubt the experience of the pilots and copilots of these things, but I also knew that sometimes the environment, altitude, and climate conditions could outweigh the skill of even the most experienced pilot.
I could do nothing but hang onto the metal bar, grasping it so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I felt a moment of relief as the pilot corrected and lifted the nose, but an updraft push the nose up too far. Once again the pilot corrected, but the aircraft began to roll to the right.
What the hell was happening?
I knew flying over mountainous terrain was difficult, what with canyons, craggy outcroppings, tall mountain peaks, and of course, the wind currents that made navigation difficult. Still, with every second that passed, I began to feel more alarmed.
Base operations couldn’t be that much further, so I could only hope and pray that we would put down sooner rather than later, especially with the current wind conditions. Every second felt like an entire minute. Time seemed to stop.
Suddenly, I heard a shrill buzzing sound and my head whipped toward the cockpit. I could barely see the right and left shoulders of the pilot and copilot, but what I saw between them caught my eye.
Shit!
A red light flashed on the instrument panel.
The Chinook vibrated even harder and began to yaw, as if trying to rotate around its center of gravity. Nearly impossible in a Chinook. The side-to-side motion was horrifying. It felt like the tail rotor was trying to get ahead of the front rotor, like sliding on ice in a vehicle… completely out of control. Still, I knew that helicopters, especially big ones like the Chinook, were not as susceptible to yaw as other aircraft, and the pilot shouldn't be having this kind of trouble.
Bang!
I jumped as something hit, followed by the sound of metal hitting metal. It was a shearing, crunching, grating sound that came from the rear of the aircraft to my left. Had something happened to the rear rotor? I didn’t know and not knowing was horrible. I glanced at Matt, saw him looking in the same direction, his expression as frightened as mine.
We dipped and rocked, thrown violently to the side.It was all I could do to stop my scream. The nose was up one second, tail up the next. It felt like I was in a dryer, being thrown and rolled in every direction.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The pilot was desperately trying to maintain control of the helicopter, but he couldn’t. Our chopper was in serious trouble.
I couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from my throat when the nose dipped even further and we rolled severely onto our starboard side. I heard sounds, loud scraping sounds. It was like something hit the side of the aircraft. Then to my horror, it sounded like the tail rotor blades hit something.
Hard.
The Chinook jolted violently. One of the firefighters who hadn't buckled himself in was thrown from his seat. He landed hard on the floor and cried out as he reached his arms up to shield his head. We grabbed for him, trying to pull him back but we were thrown violently up and down and lost our grips. The man rolled. The sound of him hitting the metal frame at the rear of the helicopter was sickening. He didn't move.
The next second, the Chinook rolled so far that I was flung forward, arms dangling, only my seatbelt holding me into my seat. Matt grabbed onto me, pulled me toward him, fighting the gravity that tried to pull me down.
I wasn't the only one who screamed this time. Men dangled. Equipment crashed and rolled and hit. The shouts of alarm and fear from other firefighters joined mine, at least those who had breath enough to scream.
I looked over
Suddenly, the nose dipped down. Sharply. A cry of alarm escaped my lips, and although nobody could possibly have heard me over the sound of the rotors and engine, I glanced up at Matt in embarrassment. He hadn't heard. I knew better than to doubt the experience of the pilots and copilots of these things, but I also knew that sometimes the environment, altitude, and climate conditions could outweigh the skill of even the most experienced pilot.
I could do nothing but hang onto the metal bar, grasping it so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I felt a moment of relief as the pilot corrected and lifted the nose, but an updraft push the nose up too far. Once again the pilot corrected, but the aircraft began to roll to the right.
What the hell was happening?
I knew flying over mountainous terrain was difficult, what with canyons, craggy outcroppings, tall mountain peaks, and of course, the wind currents that made navigation difficult. Still, with every second that passed, I began to feel more alarmed.
Base operations couldn’t be that much further, so I could only hope and pray that we would put down sooner rather than later, especially with the current wind conditions. Every second felt like an entire minute. Time seemed to stop.
Suddenly, I heard a shrill buzzing sound and my head whipped toward the cockpit. I could barely see the right and left shoulders of the pilot and copilot, but what I saw between them caught my eye.
Shit!
A red light flashed on the instrument panel.
The Chinook vibrated even harder and began to yaw, as if trying to rotate around its center of gravity. Nearly impossible in a Chinook. The side-to-side motion was horrifying. It felt like the tail rotor was trying to get ahead of the front rotor, like sliding on ice in a vehicle… completely out of control. Still, I knew that helicopters, especially big ones like the Chinook, were not as susceptible to yaw as other aircraft, and the pilot shouldn't be having this kind of trouble.
Bang!
I jumped as something hit, followed by the sound of metal hitting metal. It was a shearing, crunching, grating sound that came from the rear of the aircraft to my left. Had something happened to the rear rotor? I didn’t know and not knowing was horrible. I glanced at Matt, saw him looking in the same direction, his expression as frightened as mine.
We dipped and rocked, thrown violently to the side.It was all I could do to stop my scream. The nose was up one second, tail up the next. It felt like I was in a dryer, being thrown and rolled in every direction.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The pilot was desperately trying to maintain control of the helicopter, but he couldn’t. Our chopper was in serious trouble.
I couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from my throat when the nose dipped even further and we rolled severely onto our starboard side. I heard sounds, loud scraping sounds. It was like something hit the side of the aircraft. Then to my horror, it sounded like the tail rotor blades hit something.
Hard.
The Chinook jolted violently. One of the firefighters who hadn't buckled himself in was thrown from his seat. He landed hard on the floor and cried out as he reached his arms up to shield his head. We grabbed for him, trying to pull him back but we were thrown violently up and down and lost our grips. The man rolled. The sound of him hitting the metal frame at the rear of the helicopter was sickening. He didn't move.
The next second, the Chinook rolled so far that I was flung forward, arms dangling, only my seatbelt holding me into my seat. Matt grabbed onto me, pulled me toward him, fighting the gravity that tried to pull me down.
I wasn't the only one who screamed this time. Men dangled. Equipment crashed and rolled and hit. The shouts of alarm and fear from other firefighters joined mine, at least those who had breath enough to scream.
I looked over
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