MISADVENTURES OF JETHRO P. SUGGINS, SSGT, USAF

EPISODE 1

(Wherein our hero demonstrates his concern for a flight crew)

SSgt Jethro P. Suggins never tried to get into trouble. In fact, avoiding it was his desire, but it always seemed to find him anyway, or anyways, as he would say. It was 1972 at McChord AFB, in Tacoma, Washington, in the great Pacific Northwest. SSgt Suggins had been in this man's Air Force for six years. He had grown up in Valdosta, Georgia, adjacent to Moody AFB and Air Force jargon and friends had been in his blood long before he had enlisted. In later years his family had lived in Kentucky and Tennessee and he found life in Washington a bit strange, especially with all these Yankees everywhere. Folks in these parts that really "knowed" him didn't mind his being from the south and called him, "J.P."

Suggins was only about 5' 6" but he had the voice projection of a guy twice his size. He was stocky and probably could have done without quite so many "extra helpings" at mealtime. He spoke two languages, English and Southern. His face was ruddy, yet well featured and when he looked you in the eye, it was as if no one else mattered.

The flightline jet engine maintenance shop was J.P.'s duty section and he worked graveshift, four days on and two off. Airport work required 24 hour coverage and the schedule gave everyone an eventual weekend off. J.P. said the schedule was really invented by the "tater heads in the front office," to keep him from knowing what days he had off.

It was on a mid October night, at about 0100 hours or 1 AM, when J.P. and his engine run crew pulled their blue Air Force stepvan truck just outside the "circle of safety" of the massive C-141, four engine, Starlifter. The safety circle was a large green line painted around the parking spot of the big jet to indicate that only authorized personnel wearing proper safety gear could enter there. The nights had begun to get pretty cool and frost settled in on everthing after dusk. As usual the flightline was a bustle of activity, with the most service trucks surrounding those aircraft that were about to launch, like so many pit crews around race cars.

The smell of JP-4 or jet fuel, that was primarily made up of kerosene, was mixed with the chill, fall breeze. Huge, powerful outdoor lights, similar to the type used at popular sporting events, shown down on the busiest parts of the maintenance ramps. Several aircraft hangers, seven stories high, a football field wide and three football fields long, bordered the taxiways on one side, while the active runway and wide open spaces bordered it on the other. Blue ground lights, spaced about twenty feet apart, fringed the flightline transport areas and on the active side, red lights gave warning that this was the corridor for takeoffs and landings. A beautiful, clear, starry sky completed the spectacular scene that was largely taken for granted by the many uniforms performing their duties below.

All the hustle bustle on the ramp that night, however, barely caught the eye of Suggins and company. His group had just changed a bleed valve actuator on the #4 engine on an aircraft that was not due to fly for a couple of days. It was parked on a remote "run spot" that was a few hundred yards from the hub of maintenance activity. Since the part had been changed, it now required an operational check to see if it would perform as advertised with the aircraft and engine running or "on line." Suggins and three other specially trained engine mechanics were about to perform that task.

The Lockheed C-141 aircraft was sort of like a large yacht with wings. It could be used for hauling everything from 70,000 pounds of cargo to 150 passengers. The wingspan was 160 feet; it was 145 feet long and the rear of the aircraft at the "T" tail was 40 feet high. Four engines produced a total of about 21,000 pounds of thrust. It had battery power, a plug in for external power and an APU or auxilliary power unit that provided support until the engines could be started. In short, the aircraft cost millions of dollars and had to be operated using a checklist. Any deviation from the procedures, with a machine that massive, could cause damage to equipment and death to personnel. Suggins and his crew performed an average of five aircraft runs a night. It was easy to begin to take things for granted; a dangerous mistake.

"This place is 'bout as crowded with planes as hair is on my bald old head," said J.P. "Ain't this a grand spot to churn and burn?"

"Mighty fine," answered Sodowsky, graveshift's representative from Poland. As usual, the military brought people from all over the states and even the world to work together. Petroski and Samanski represented day and swingshift respectively. This was actually coincidental and yet entertaining, for all three had an unusual sense of humor.

"I'll do the walk around inspection, J.P." offered Jay Eseltine, a tall, lanky buck sergeant from Oregon. "I guess it's my turn to stand ground on the long cord."

One of the four members of the run crew always "stood ground" or posted himself about 25 yards in front of the nose of the aircraft in view of the run crew. His or her job was to monitor conditions during run thru the intercom cord. Engine start, ignition, fuel drain or "dump" during shutdown, in addition to any emergency situation , was monitored from the ground. It was the safety link of the cockpit or flight deck with the surrounding area.

"Must be my turn for the right seat," said Jim Coleman, a by the book SSgt from Tuscon, Arizona. If any of the crew needed to know the latest checklist procedure, he was the one to consult.

Sodowsky took the engineer panel and Suggins was at the left seat. Right seat primarily monitored gages, insured the brakes were on and watched out the windows for emergency situations.

The engineer monitored the fuel transfer and supplemental engine/aircraft gages and the left seat was in charge, regardless of rank. He oversaw the run and operated the throttles.

"Brakes, lights and tower." J.P. bellowed thru the headset. This phrase told the run crew that the parking brakes were set, the run lights were on, (rotating red beacons on the top and bottom of the center fuselage or mid section as well as red and green lights at the wing tips) and that the aircraft control tower had been notified that an engine run was taking place to preclude any hijacking or unauthorized starts. The exhaust blast area had to be clear for about 100 yards behind the aircraft to prevent heat and turbulence from harming equipment or personnel. Run lights were a visual warning to trucks passing by or passenger and flight crews that an engine run was taking place and that they were to stay clear.

Many blue Air Force trucks dotted here and there, shuttling aircraft "specialists" and parts. Each truck had a communication radio to contact job control or another truck and were all given radio call signs or handles. For instance, Suggin's truck was Mike 6, for jet engine mechanics, Golf 3 took care of bringing ladders and maintenance stands to and from aircraft, so that they could be safely climbed upon to fix and repair, November 4 was the avionics specialist, November 5 took care of electrical problems, (commonly called spark chasers) Mike 1 was a small pickup truck that housed a Chief Master Sergeant or a junior officer or supervisory personnel that oversaw the entire flightline procedure. If you were talking to Mike 1 you were usually getting instructed or being chewed out. These were only a small part of the many vehicles that were all over the ramp.

"Well, boys and girls, I do believe we're ready for engine start," J.P. announced. "You agree?"

"Looks good on the engineer panel," Ski chanted.

"Ain't waitin' on me," said Coleman.

"Ready on the ground. Number one engine clear to start," said Jay Eseltine.

"Roger, #1 engine starter button in," barked Suggins.

The red starter light illuminated on the pilot's (left seat) overhead panel. It was located about two feet above and aft of J.P.'s right shoulder. Once depressed, the button stayed there or "sucked in."

"You've got engine rotation," Jay said thru the intercom.

"Indicated," answered Suggins.

When the starter turbine began to rotate from the air pressure produced by the A.P.U., it turned the reduction gearbox, which turned the jet engine. A large rush of air could be heard flowing into the pneumatic or air duct. When the engine RPM indicated 15%, Suggins placed the fuel start and ignition switch to the "on" position and said, "ignition." This action opened the fuel valve in the pylon, above the engine and began firing the two, high voltage igniter plugs in the combustion section of the motor. At this point, the entire engine, about the dimensions of a full size car, shuddered as spark and fuel met and resulted in "lightoff." Once combustion had occured, the ignitor plugs automatically shut off. The turbine of the engine was then driven by the combustion section and the compressor section that supplied compressed air for combustion. A compressor shaft connected to the turbine and the whole process became self sustaining. As long as fuel was provided, the motor would run almost indefinitely, providing that there was no part fatigue or malfunction. RPM began to climb toward 45% and the starter button "popped," indicating the starter had disengaged.

"You got a light, J.P.," said Jay, seeing the heat waves at the exhaust of the engine.

"Roger that. Button is popped, speed advancing toward idle. All indications look good," said Suggins. "This bad burner seems "bout as happy as a toad on a lilly pad in July."

"Wish it was July out here," Jay exclaimed. "Can't be more than 20 degrees. Tonight I'm putting this GI issue parka to good use."

"Exhaust gas temperature is normal on my engineer gage," Ski responded. "Fuel flow is OK, oil pressure holding, hydraulic pressure checks, but engine RPM is about 2% high."

"Jay can tweek it down a little on the fuel control once we get all four started," J.P. answered. "#2 engine clear?"

"Clear," Jay said.

"Switching over to # 1 engine generator power." offered Coleman.

Number two, three and four engines were started in like manner and the APU shutdown with no hitches. The aircraft vibrated noisily against the brakes as if begging to be let loose in freedom. Suggins felt the power of that massive machine and it still surprised him how they could let a little ole' country boy like him, operate such a big hunk of metal.

"We better let the engines stabalize at idle before we do our power checks." said J.P. This better make the flight crew happy, after all the trouble we done went thru to fix it. It took me two hours in the cold to change that dadburn six inch bleed valve actuator. Ya ever hold a flashlight in your mouth and tools in your hand, while trying to change sumpin' in the dark?"

"Lots of times," Ski answered, "but the flight crew only wants it repaired, they don't care how hard you had to work to get it that way."

"Quit picking on the flight crew," Jim Coleman countered, "they got to fly this thing ya know, not just play games with it on the ground. If we don't fix it right, they could get killed." Jim was a former flight crew member before cross training to jet engines or "jets."

"Yeah, sure but half the time they write up things that ain't even broke," Jay offered.

The contention and bickering between ground maintenance specialists and flight crews was long standing. It was caused by the basic difference or perspective between the two groups. On the one hand, the flight crew was concerned that the aircraft operate properly and safely. They wanted the write-ups or discrepancies fixed and fixed right. If the flight manual or -1, as they called it, said something should operate a certain way, that's the way they wanted it. Maintenace types like jets, or hydraulics or instruments, had their own manuals, like the -2-4 or the -2-6 or whatever, that told them how their system operated.

The flight manual and the specialist manuals didn't always agree. Some malfunctions that occured in the air, could not be duplicated on the ground. Specialists were interested in fixing a write-up as soon as possible and often answered discrepancies with the words, "Could not duplicate," or "CND." This did not score points with the flight crews, who considered such answers as excuses or as evasive. It looked to them like maintenance was just a bunch of goof offs who wanted to hurry and sign off the write-up so that they could get back to their card games or sleep time in the back of the truck. Unfortunately, sometimes they were right.

To specialists it appeared that flight crews were a bunch of stuck-up fly boys, strutting around in their flight suits, acting as if they were God's gift to the Air Force, making up discrepancies on a whim, so that they could have an excuse for extra crew rest. Unfortunately, sometimes they were right. On and on it went, each side thinking the other to be in the wrong or at least suspicious. What they should have been doing was working together, which only happened rarely. Neither side wanted to be the one to concede. As a result, tension betwen them did not slacken.

"We gonna jaw all day, wasting Uncle Sam's gas or are we gonna get this bird fixed?" said J.P.

"Ain't waitin' on me throttle jockey, you're clear for taking these babies to power," Jay encouraged.

Jets had changed the six inch bleed valve actuator, which was on the left side fo the TF-33-P7 engine. A four and three quarter inch bleed valve was on the opposite side, also controlled by an actuator. The two sizes indicated the circumference of the butterly opening on each side of the compressor, where excess air was allowed to bleed off.

Ambient air, in varying flying conditions, brought moisture that formed on engine parts. After long, repeated, pneumatic operation, the actuators would corrode and stick, making removal and replacement (R&Ring) necessary. In order to operationally check such replacements, the motor had to be brought to full power or 1.9 EPR (engine pressure ratio). After stabalizing at power, sometimes called military power, the engine was quickly decelerated to 1.7 EPR in a "snap deceleration."

This could only be done with two symmetrical engines at a time, #1 and #4 or #2 and #3. Numbered from left to right while facing in the forward direction. Commonly called the inboard and outboard engines. Symmetrical acceleration prevented uneven power application and loss of aircraft control or "jumping the chocks." Chocks, of course, were the wooden blocks that prevented the tires from rolling forward. Today, (2006) run chocks are commonly used, which block the tires much more dramatically. Once the throttles were brought to 1.7 EPR, power should hesitate momentarily, then drop. This would indicate the bleed valves had opened properly.

"Going to military on the inboard engines, let's make some noise!" Suggins exclaimed.

Even though #4 engine was the one that had the problem actuator, Suggins checked all four engines, just in case the flight crew, heaven forbid, had made an error, or perhaps another sticking actuator had developed. A bad bleed valve actuator could cause a phenomenon called compressor stall, sort of like an exaggerated backfire on an automobile exhaust. If this happened on a jet engine, it could send a blow torch fire out the front, instead of the rear of the engine. The resulting explosion and vibration could rip a motor apart.

As J.P. advanced the throttles to full power, strong, hot blasts of kerosene smelling exhaust poured out for hundreds of feet behind the aircraft. Having stabalized, he sharply brought back the throttle to 1.7 EPR and the power very normally decelerated.

"Returning to idle with the inboards. Get your trusty, rusty allen wrench out Jay and tweek down #1 engine idle about four clicks," said J.P. "That idle speed is still a little high."

Jay went under the engine to make the adjustment. Walking under a running jet engine is always a bit unnerving and dangerous. The heat and the noise, even at idle is fearfully strong. Ear plugs and ear noise muffs are worn and yet the vibration and heat can be felt thru the entire body of the person. Care must be taken to always approach the engine from the side. The front of a jet engine, especially a turbofan jet engine, like this one, is a huge vacuum cleaner, sucking up gobs of air and any other thing that gets too close, like ear protectors, hats, gloves, metal hardware and yes, even people. This was not a time to be careless.

After making the adjustment, Jay headed for the front of the aircraft and was almost to his designated spot, when he tripped over the intercom long cord. In so doing, he pulled loose one of the wires on his headset. Now he could receive sound, but could not transmit, although, at this point, he had not discovered it yet.

"Looks like you done good, buddy boy," said Suggins. "Going up to mil with the outboards, is it clear?"

Jay had scraped his knee when he had tripped and was rubbing it. He gave J.P. the thumbs up sign and the outboards went to power. About this time, down the ramp and adjacent to the rear of the Suggins bird, a flight crew was waiting to walk across the ramp, headed for the flight crew command post. A major, two captains, a lieutenant and two senior enlisted, an engineer and a loadmaster, had just finished a long flight. They were looking forward to a quick debrief and crew rest. When they realized the C-141 in front of them was operating at power, they motioned to Jay to let them pass.

The crew were carrying their luggage and manuals and looking impatient. As soon as Jay saw them he told J.P., over the now faulty intercom, to bring power to idle because a flight crew wanted to pass. J.P. heard nothing but brought the throttles to 1.7 EPR to check the bleeds. As Jay heard the engines start to decelerate, he motioned for the flight crew to cross, thinking J.P. had heard him.

The flight crew began ambling across, rather arrogantly. When they had reached about the halfway point, J.P., unaware of all this, slapped it up to military power. Panic broke loose. Jay started screaming into the malfunctioning headset. The dignified, proud stroll of the flight crew became, instead, a run for their lives. Hats, luggage, security badges, sunglasses and manuals all were dropped and went flying end over end down the taxiway. If a track coach would have been watching, he would have been proud of the new 100 yard dash times they set as they scrambled to the other side. They were slightly singed, but otherwise physically OK, however, to say that they had suddenly become very angry, would have been an understatement. The folks at the command post, instantly got told what happened.

"What in blazes is the matter with Jay," Coleman said, looking at him through the right front window. "He keeps hopping up and down, waving his arms!"

"Speak to me Jay," Suggins ordered as he brought the throttles down to idle.

It was then that J.P. began to know something was amiss, for he could see Jay moving his mouth, but he heard no sound. Just then, the Mike 1 supervision pickup truck pulled up to speak to Jay.

"Tell that idiot to get away from the front of the aircraft during an engine run! Doesn't he know that's against procedures!" J.P. barked.

"Hey, the Chief, don't look none too happy and he's giving you the cutoff sign!" (made by bringing the hand quickly across the throat, meaning shut down engines, NOW!) said Ski.

J.P. and company spent the next hour, explaining to the bosses at job control how it was all a big mistake and an accident. He apologized over and over and at first was not believed, but eventually, because no real harm was done, he was forgiven. 0700 or 7 AM found him back at the shop for shift change, where small groups congregated around to hear how Suggins, singlehandedly, showed a flight crew who was boss. J.P. denied repeatedly that he had done it on purpose but the guys on day shift, out of the earshot of surpervision, would not believe it. He was beginning to enjoy the attention when finally someone asked,

"You may think you can fool the guys at the head shed that it was all an accident but you're talking to the folks that know better. Come on, tell us. How did you do it?"

"Well, Suggins finally said. "You know, ...it wasn't easy."