THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 27, 1994 TAG: 9411270096
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KERRY DEROCHI, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 119 lines
A blinding fog rolled above the flight deck of the carrier Kitty Hawk, stranding nine jets in a thick, gray mist.
Visibility dropped to zero as the jets hovered above the pitching carrier. There was talk of ditching them in the rough seas of the North Pacific. Helicopter crews readied to pluck fliers out of the water.
On a platform at the end of the flight deck stood a landing signal officer, eyes fixed to a radar screen, one hand glued to a radio.
One by one, he talked the jets down.
The officer, or LSO, was later awarded a Navy Achievement Medal for his efforts on that foggy July day. That story has become legendary in the world of LSOs.
Lt. Jim Karakash knows the story well.
``When you give a good call like that, and the pilots come back in, they just want to say thank you,'' said Karakash, an LSO instructor at Oceana Naval Air Station.
``They're grateful they're alive to go eat dinner.''
Karakash, an F-14 pilot, is one of four Navy fliers assigned to the LSO school at Oceana, a monthlong program that trains students in the high-tech, complex procedures known as carrier landings.
The only school of its kind in the world, the LSO class attracts more than 220 pilots each year. They come from as far as France or Brazil, but most are Navy fliers.
Though it opened more than five years ago, the school is drawing attention today as a highlight in the campaign to save Oceana from the 1995 round of base closings. The LSO school is mentioned in briefings and during tours for congressmen and military officials, in hopes of blocking the ax of the Defense Base Closure and Realignment Commission.
``When you see an F-14 or an F/A-18 approach a carrier deck and you realize what is at stake to get it in correctly, you begin to realize how important these skills are,'' said U.S. Rep. Owen Pickett, D-Virginia Beach, who has led the campaign to save Oceana.
``It reminds us there are so many unique things the military must be able and prepared to do.''
At the LSO school, there is little talk of base closing commissions.
Instead, conversations center on foul decks and good passes, of ``calling the ball'' and wind gusts known as burbles.
The students are taught - 16 at a time - in spacious classrooms that are decorated with photographs of the early LSOs. Animated computer programs demonstrate the effect of a burble - a wind disturbance that can play havoc with a jet's approach.
Nearby, the students practice their techniques in a darkened dome where four giant projectors simulate a carrier flight deck.
The training is important for two reasons. At times, an LSO is the only person on a carrier who can monitor a pilot's approach and help guide the flier to the flight deck.
During carrier qualifications, when student pilots land on a carrier at night for the first time, it is the voice of an LSO that can calm the nerves.
``Give me two seconds on a steady deck and I can get anybody on,'' said Lt. Cmdr. Tom Quinn, the officer in charge of the school.
Each carrier uses between four and five teams of LSOs, made up of LSOs from each of the airwing's squadrons.
The LSOs stand - often four or five at a time - on a small platform at the end of the flight deck. From there, they grade the pilots' landings, using a four-point scale that is based on the angle and the speed as the jet snares one of four wires. The grades are displayed on a board in the squadron readyroom.
``You've got to want this job,'' said Lt. Mark Frederickson, an instructor. ``You have to talk to every pilot in the air wing. You, as a junior LSO, can grade an admiral.''
But the risks are far greater than just a grade.
To emphasize that point, the instructors show students black and white videotapes of ramp strikes where jets explode into flames on the flight deck.
One took place July 20, 1993, on the carrier Abraham Lincoln. It was the kind of night pilots hate most, when the sea and sky blend together.
In the distance are the lights of an F-14 edging toward the flight deck, too low and too slow.
``Power,'' screamed the LSO on the videotape. ``Power.''
Nothing changed.
Seconds later, the jet exploded into a rolling line of flames.
Ramp strike. An LSO's worst nightmare.
``The LSO did everything he could, yet the kid still died,'' said Quinn. ``It still affects him.''
What most LSOs remember, however, are the saves. The day on the Kitty Hawk last summer. The time an A-6 pilot landed with his bombardier-navigator hanging out of the cockpit because of a malfunctioned ejection seat.
Or the F/A-18 that landed in visibility of less than 700 feet. The Hornet approached at the perfect angle, descending 600 feet a minute.
He landed smoothly, snagging the third wire - the one all pilots aim for.
Quinn, the LSO at the time, looked at the others on the platform. They gave the pilot a 5 on the 4-point scale.
``I couldn't think of anything to say,'' Quinn said. ``It was perfect.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photos by MOTOYA NAKAMURA, Staff
An instructor at Oceana Naval Air Station's landing signal officer
school, above, demonstrates a simulated landing in the projection
room. Animated computer programs, below, are used to help train the
officers.
Photos by MOTOYA NAKAMURA, Staff
A landing signal officers' classroom at Oceana Naval Air Station is
decorated with photographs of early LSOs. The school, the only one
of its kind in the world, attracts more than 220 pilots each year.
Most are Navy fliers.
Photos
Tom Quinn, from left, Mark Frederickson and Jim Karakash are landing
signal officer instructors at Oceana.
Graphic by John Earle, Staff
A guiding hand
KEYWORDS: NAVAL AVIATION CARRIER LANDINGS U.S. OCEANA NAVAL AIR
STATION by CNB