Exercise Blackbird

By Rob Neil.

To a great many New Zealanders who have benefited from their services — as well as disaster and conflict victims around the world — the men and women of 3 Squadron, RNZAF, are undoubtedly seen as heroes. Brave, selfless and heroic though they may sometimes appear to others, the personnel of 3 Squadron prefer to see themselves simply as dedicated and highly trained professionals who joined the RNZAF to serve their nation.

Andy Heap and Rob Neil joined 3 Squadron for its annual mountain flying exercise in the Southern Alps to witness some of the training that goes into producing its nation-serving professionalism.

Exercise Blackbird, as the Air Force’s annual mountain flying training exercise is called, is viewed as an essential component of the Squadron’s competency training. Accordingly, whenever possible, all of 3 Sqn’s aircrews try to attend. However, with the RNZAF’s significant commitments to peacekeeping and disaster relief operations around the world— for example, the squadron is heavily committed in East Timor at the moment—not everyone is able to participate.

In addition to having two aircraft and personnel in East Timor, the squadron also had personnel preparing for a detachment to Townsville, Australia, where they were to join the Australian Army’s 5 AVN (Aviation Regiment) for an exercise, so 2007’s “Blackbird” was smaller than usual.

The exercise is mainly for the benefit of aircrews—helicopter crewmen and women as well as pilots—but the squadron’s maintenance crews also gain from the experience of working away from their usual facilities at established bases. While Blackbird benefits all participants, it is primarily intended for the less experienced of the squadron’s crews. This year, for example, there were three captains who were about to be upgraded to search & rescue captains, so it was essential to expose them to mountain flying. Other prime beneficiaries along for this year’s exercise were six recently qualified pilots for whom this was their first real exposure to mountain flying.

During their Iroquois conversion course, trainee pilots make a single flight into the Ruahines, not too far from Ohakea, for some basic mountain flying familiarisation, but as Squadron Leader Chris Andrew—Blackbird’s commander this year—explains: “The mountain flying that new pilots experience in the Ruahines is very basic. The Ruahines are much lower—nothing like the “real” mountains of the Southern Alps—and the Ruahine sortie is just designed to be a basic introduction, after which pilots wait for the next Blackbird-type exercise. That’s why we do them regularly,” he says, “so that they don’t spend too long as co-pilots without the exposure to ‘real’ mountain flying.”

As Sqn Ldr Andrew explained, pilots may still be exposed to some mountain flying in the course of their routine general flying, or when carrying out missions with experienced captains working for DOC (Dept of Conservation), the police or the Army. However, the Air Force—appropriately—sees a big difference between co-pilot and command flying in such situations, and wants its pilots to spend dedicated time with instructors in the mountains as soon as possible.

The squadron’s competent professionalism was apparent to this writer upon arrival at Woodbourne at the start of the day’s flying. There was an air of business about the hangar and briefing area, but everything was organised and calm. Every aspect of the day’s flying operations had been prepared well in advance, with a training schedule detailing the “what, when and where” for each pilot and crew member. However, as anyone familiar with aviation is only too well aware, plans cannot afford to be inflexible, so the crews’ willingness and ability to accommodate the requests of two Pacific Wings passengers—within the overall bounds of the exercise—gave an indication of the degree of their quick-thinking flexibility.

Andy Heap and I made it clear to Sqn Ldr Andrew that we would stay out of the way and observe throughout the day, taking whatever photographs we could. However, after a brief conversation, he quickly appreciated what we wanted to achieve with air-to-air and other photography requirements, and with this in mind, mission start times and arrival times at the Dip Flat base camp were re-scheduled and pilots briefed to consider the additional (definitely atypical) factor of lighting strength and direction for our benefit.

At the same time as we were thoroughly briefed about safety and operational requirements, pilots and crewmen were cautioned to pay special attention to our (unqualified) presence, both around the helicopters and in the mountain environment.

From the beginning, it was obvious that safety was paramount. The military this might be, but “gung-ho” it is not!

We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day to accompany the helicopters—apart from the fact that the temperature was approximately minus a million degrees in the open doors of the Hueys. We can’t have been popular with the two unfortunate crews whose job it was to fly each of us with their helicopters’ doors open, but they not only resisted the temptation to throw us out, they also made us very welcome.

With the en route air–air photo shoot out of the way, crews moved straight into the day’s training exercises, completely disregarding any distraction from our presence as passengers.

From the moment we boarded the helicopters at Woodbourne, I was immediately struck by the constant communication between crewmembers. Even as a passenger, it made me completely aware of what was happening all around the machine. As Sqn Ldr Andrew pointed out later, this was no coincidence. The need for consistent “patter” between both pilots and crewmen is essential to maintaining complete situational awareness; the helicopter crewman is very much an equal part of the flight crew in this regard.

The first exercise in our helicopter involved a couple of ridge approaches at around 6,000 feet, followed by a series of “bowl” approaches using different techniques. Every time the helicopter changed direction or began an approach, there was communication between the pilots as to which direction was their “escape” in the event of an emergency or change of circumstances. At different points throughout a profile, this would change depending on a number of factors such as the wind direction, the degree to which terrain rose in relation to wind direction, and the amount of power available (which could be the determining factor in whether to turn right or left depending on remaining tail rotor authority). As things changed, the escape was verbalised and responded to so that there was never a doubt in anyone’s mind as to which way we would be going if anything went pear-shaped.

Pilots continually assess the wind, referring to both GPS and visible external signs, such as blown snow or cloud, as well as “feel”. However, as was constantly being rammed home by instructors, the wind in rugged mountain terrain has the capacity to blow from unexpected directions, and the GPS or blown snow at the “tops” didn’t always tell the story of what it was doing at a landing site.

For each intended landing, the aircraft would make a preliminary approach and overshoot, during which the crewman would throw a smoke grenade to indicate actual wind on the ground. This was an extremely valuable tool for the pilots and left no doubt as to what the wind was doing—which was often not at all what was “expected” (I was impressed with the Air Force’s environmental responsibility in having the crews recover each of the spent smoke canisters after landing).

On one occasion, when hovering on a pinnacle above 7,000 feet, we experienced vibration as a result of having sufficient wind directly on the nose to take the disc close to the point of translational lift. This was a good lesson for the trainee pilot at the time, who was unsure whether he had miscalculated the wind and wondered if the vibration was the result of a tailwind. This was a good example of how—although the rather benign weather prevailing for this particular “Blackbird” was not ideal (in that some potential hazards were not easily highlighted)—instructors used a variety of different techniques to encourage pilots to think for themselves about what was happening or was likely to happen to their helicopters.

Each of the four Hueys involved in the exercise carried out several sorties during the day. Each sortie was carefully planned to maximise its training benefit. Wherever possible, the flights were used to train crewmen and pilots simultaneously. The various Blackbird tasks all aimed to increase crews’ awareness and appreciation of the hazards of high altitude mountain flying. Things like the detrimental effects of high density altitudes upon power and tail rotor authority cannot be taught in a classroom. Pilots might have a theoretical understanding of the principles involved, but real “knowledge” of their effects upon aircraft performance can only come from experiencing them first-hand. With such experience comes much greater confidence.

Sling load training is one exercise that benefits crewmen every bit as much as pilots. The Air Force always uses a crewman when performing sling load operations (civilian pilots typically fly alone) and in this role, the crewman’s eyes and communication skills as an essential third member of the flight crew become quickly apparent. “A good crewman is worth his weight in gold,” Sqn Ldr Andrew says. “He (or she) can paint a picture of what’s going on all around the aircraft without the pilot having to look. A lot of things can happen behind a pilot’s sightline—especially in a Huey, which isn’t too well set up for solo sling operations—that a crewman can tell you about. Of course,” he adds, “this is equally applicable in any confined area and not just to mountain flying.

Apart from the situational awareness provided by the crews’ constant communication, the other thing that made me feel extremely secure as a passenger was the helicopters’ outstanding condition. Despite the fact that New Zealand’s are now some of the oldest operational Hueys in the world, they must be among the best maintained anywhere and they are a great credit to the RNZAF’s maintenance personnel.

Sqn Ldr Andrew was effusive in his praise for the maintenance crews’ efforts, whose pride in their work was evident from the immaculate state of every machine. “We get lots of comments from overseas crews,” he said. “The helicopters are in superb nick—as good as when they left the factory. It’s really nice for us as aircrew to have such confidence in our maintenance people and know our aircraft won’t let us down.”

The writer has flown in a number of Hueys in different places in the world and was particularly impressed by the incredible “smoothness” of 3 Sqn’s aircraft. As Chris Andrew explained, the squadron’s ground crews never accept “within limits” as close enough, and consistently strive for “perfection” when balancing components and carrying out tracking. Andy Heap and I much appreciated this, because with their massive two-bladed rotors, Hueys are inherently “awful” from the vibration point of view and do not normally make particularly desirable camera platforms.

New Zealand’s Iroquois are still largely “original” and the oldest are now 40 yrs old (the first five NZ Hueys were D models but these all have since been upgraded to H models). The only significant modifications to the aircraft since they left the factory have been to their avionics, with modern radios and GPS units fitted. Mechanically, little has been done, although they do have different (newer) gearboxes and transmissions.

One extremely simple—but effective—modification that all the RNZAF Iroquois feature is a strake down the left side of the tail boom. This strake increases tail rotor effectiveness and gives more pedal authority. An unexpected—but happily welcomed—additional benefit conferred by this strake is to improve the helicopter’s out-of-wind stability.

It was interesting to watch and listen to the new Air Force pilots as they flew various exercises throughout the day. In a uniquely military atmosphere of mutual respect, trainees accepted calm direction and constructive criticism from instructors with neither embarrassment nor defensiveness. It made no difference to either instructors or trainees that there were civilian observers present—the training was all-important and the lessons needed to be learned.

There has been much ill informed general media comment about the capability of New Zealand’s Air Force since the disbandment of its strike wing. As much as Pacific Wings deplores the government’s naive decision, the strike wing was just one component of the RNZAF. The transport, maritime and helicopter squadrons—second to none in the world—continue to serve New Zealand effectively and with justifiable pride. Pacific Wings is grateful to Sqn Ldr Chris Andrew, the men and women of 3 Squadron, and the RNZAF for their hospitality and assistance—it was a privilege to watch the Air Force at work.