Comments by "Stephen Villano" (@spvillano) on "Taking Off"
channel.
-
9
-
And a closing rate of close to 300 knots. Not a lot of reaction time to ascertain actual range, hence threat and maneuver. Given the radar, that looks to be a bit over a mile separation at first collision alert, so maybe 10 seconds, with ATC also querying. Decision time to ascertain if it's spurious or actual, that's an awfully short amount of time to avoid collision.
Especially for the UH-60, where the aircraft may well have been visually passing through the rotor plane.
Unfortunately, we'll be receiving an aviation safety lesson once the investigation has been completed.
Unfortunate, for those unfamiliar with transportation safety and aviation safety in particular, as such lessons are extremely expensive, as they're most often paid for in blood.
A handful of years ago, there was a somewhat similar crash involving a small airplane and helicopter over bay at NYC. Bad angles and high closure rate resulted in a mid-air collision in a clear daylight sky, with minimal congestion. Just a bad angle for each aircraft to identify one another easily and ascertain closure rate and one the danger was appreciated, it was too late to do anything about it and it was all captured on video.
6
-
5
-
@Brother_Pugz they'd be quite bright, but even without goofy goggles, they'd be brilliant - in a veritable sea of other lights and beacons, with one descending and possibly partially obscured by the length of the rotor disc and only maybe a mile off at 300 knots.
At the first collision alert, that'd be a maximum of maybe 10 seconds to determine the threat, is it actually on a collision course or close, take evasive action and remember that neither craft is a fighter aircraft, so at the speeds they were going, wouldn't be exceptionally nimble.
Then, consider that depth perception in the dark sucks in humans. Most of the hoopla about drones recently illustrated that quite well with people thinking things were SUV or bus sized and were just civilian helicopters or heavy passenger aircraft or even constellations of stars. Human vision at night is rife with optical illusions.
What I am surprised at is that the ATC software didn't identify a potential conflict much, much, much earlier on - at at least 3 miles apart. Usually, when a near miss is reported, the aircraft were just nearing a mile apart after evasive measures were employed.
We'll know the answers eventually, after the NTSB has gone over all of the available data with a fine tooth comb and offers recommendations on avoiding such a possible event in the future.
Because, "the holes in the Swiss cheese lined up" isn't an epitaph anyone wants to read or write.
2
-
1
-
1
-
@Jordan-vg5hp they were nearly head on when the alert was triggered and ATC queried if visual was achieved. Per the included radar, around a mile of separation, which at a mutual closure of around 300 knots, around maybe 10 seconds from each other. Not a hell of a lot of time to decide if the alert is spurious, which isn't uncommon in congested airspace and low altitudes, what range and in the dark, well depth perception is fairly well lost due to few to no visual references, so is that a commuter, a heavy, a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier, OK, the last obviously doesn't exist, but yeah. A lot of information, on top of going through a landing checklist and maybe one has the right aircraft in view, maybe the helicopter could fully see it and not have it partially obscured by the blur of the rotor disc as it descends that 100 fateful feet.
And if actually recognized and realizing one's seconds from deep poop, neither aircraft is a fighter aircraft, one's landing and about as nimble as an overfed cow, the UH-60 is a utility bird, not the most nimble thing on the planet either.
Both fine aircraft, just not things that can go darting around like their jet fighters.
My only question is how the ATC software didn't catch the conflict after registering the final turn of the fixed wing.
Well, we'll have to await the NTSB on this one, like most and see what recommendations they can offer to prevent it from happening again.
1
-
Centuries ago, when I worked the ramp, I was beyond paranoid around running engines. Too easy to lose situational awareness and end up in the ingestion zone or get caught by the exhaust and fly precisely unlike Superman - straight into stationary ground equipment.
At PHL, between terminal C and D was the commuter aircraft, right along the concourse. Eastern had powered back (power back was their thing, as otherwise, their mechanic's union required a mechanic to push back and cost saving...), then as they waited on the taxiway entry to cross the closest runway, while tail still facing between the terminals, the pilot in control left the engines at at least 30%. Commuter aircraft were blown free of their chocks and into ground equipment, their baggage carts were blowing around, some striking the building and other commuter aircraft, I sheltered next to a 727's gear with the FO, who was doing his walkaround. The 727 was blown over its chocks and one cabin service crew member, who had just opened the rear door for servicing, lost her balance and fell to the ramp face first. I was on a baggage run, thought it was a loose bag, which I'd get on my next trip, as the passengers were waiting on their baggage. Late bags means missed connecting flights.
Thankfully, a fueler was present, saw her and rendered aid while radioing for help.
That was quite an expensive event for Eastern, who folded not long afterward.
Good thing I decided to park along terminal D when the blow started, I'd have not cleared that ramp before my carts would've taken me for a ride.
Those engines are powerful enough to push an aircraft that weights anywhere from 130000 pounds to 1.25 million pounds to 170 mph or more to take off. That's a lot of force, folks! And if it's blowing with that much force, that much air is coming into the front as well, where the giant fan awaits meeting whatever it can bring in at 2500 - 3000 rpm. That's a lot of mutual shredding, as the fan won't withstand a human body's being shredded, placing the aircraft and passengers at risk as well. Anyone going into the engine pretty much has nothing to worry about - ever again.
1
-
We had one better example. One of the ramp supervisors was struck by a spooling down propeller, right in the face.
He managed to recover and well, became the greatest proponent for safety that there was. Any who would be inclined to argue just needed one look at him to be quelled.
A fan can only do far more damage before it fails in milliseconds.
Now, we have two cases in two airlines, one in Alabama, the other in Texas, in six months.
I'm not thinking it's time for a stand down and safety reexamination - yet. A third within the year, I'd seriously consider it, economic damage be damned.
Bad enough to lose workers and have damaged engines, but the risk of an uncontained failure increases with the mass impinging upon the fan and turbine blades. Back when Piedmont was still independent, I worked the ramp and we had fuel pods, one with motor gasoline, the other jet-A substituting for diesel. Uncontained debris puncturing one of those would spill and atomize that fuel around running equipment, risking a substantial part of the terminal and all aircraft at the gate.
Add in psychological harm to pax who witnessed the accident and its aftermath, something needs to be done to ensure compliance with safety standards.
Yes, there is time pressure to get the aircraft serviced, but a fatal accident only delays all by far more than waiting for the damned things to be spooled down, the beacons extinguished and the ground crew waved in.
1
-
1
-
1
-
1
-
1
-
@jimmydesouza4375 I call it for what it is, complacency. Complacency will result in one treating safety casually, cutting corners and developing bad habits.
I've worked the ramp, for Piedmont Airlines before US Air bought them, back when Piedmont had bought Eastern's old mainframe. It's easy to grow complacent, to slip into unsafe habits. Did it myself, resulting in an F-28's bin door knocking some sense into me when I opened it without a hand to guard against it dropping and it happily slammed onto the top of my head, all 90 pounds of door.
Thankfully, I do have an infamously hard head and a jaw of granite, but it still explained complacency to me even better than Krebs, a supervisor that himself was a propeller strike victim (again, due to complacency leading him to walk into a spinning propeller, resulting in a six month hospitalization) could do.
1