A Long Norwegian Night

By LCdr. Shawn Petre

nti-submarine warfare (ASW) flights are few and far between these days for most P-3C squadrons. Over the course of a few weeks that fall, however, ASW missions were the only flights on the schedule for combat aircrew six (CAC-6) of the Fighting Tigers of VP-8. We flew several missions above the Arctic Circle in the North Atlantic, honing our ASW skills.

Our crew had to battle all the elements that make ASW challenging: high sea-state, strong low-level winds, blowing snow, and the sounds of snapping shrimp. Each sonobuoy was pushed to its limit, as the waves cut through the buoy strings like a knife through butter. Buoy washover from the strong winds prevented the crew from receiving consistent signals from the buoys, not to mention the rough ride for the crew while at low altitudes. After almost 12 hours in the air, and the deployment of more than 100 sonobuoys, we called it a night and headed back to base.

For those who have been on missions in the North Atlantic, it was routine to depart from Keflavik, Iceland, and refuel in Andoya, Norway, courtesy of the Royal Norwegian Air Force’s 333rd Squadron based there. On our way to refuel this night, the predicted weather in Andoya was less than desirable, with blowing snow and near-zero visibility with fog—just what the crew wanted after half a day in the air. The next 30 minutes easily were the longest of the entire deployment.

I was sitting navigator-communicator, and I quickly learned the situational-awareness drills aviators receive in flight school are invaluable. With several 1,500-to-1,700foot mountains about three miles from the field to the southwest, precise navigation and the execution of proper missed-approach procedures became critical.

On the first approach to runway 15, the crew descended to minimum-descent altitude (MDA). Without even a glimpse of runway lighting, the crew executed their first missed approach. With variable winds at the field, tower recommended trying to land on runway 33. Two approaches to runway 33 ended with the same results.

On the next attempt, the crew elected to try another approach to runway 15. This time at MDA, the flight station saw a slight glimmer of light from the runway but still not enough to see the asphalt. Upon executing their fourth missed approach, the disoriented pilots started to turn toward the mountains to the southwest. Simultaneously, the tower controller and I shouted, “No! Make a left turn!” Quickly, the aircraft reversed the turn to safer sectors for another approach. Twelve hours and 15 minutes into the flight, we gave it one more try into runway 15, without success.

Alternate weather at Bodo, Norway, 120 nautical miles to the south was VMC (visual meteorological conditions), three letters that were music to the ears. After an eternal 12.8 hours, the crew landed in Bodo.

No matter how comfortable we are flying, and with thousands of hours of experience, it’s the one time we relax that the unthinkable always seems to happen.

LCdr. Petre flies with VPU-2.

Compared to the cold-war era, long ASW prosecutions in inhospitable corners of the world are now few and far between. Atrophy of these skills can lead to increased risk or even complacency. This article is a great reminder that the last 10 minutes of a flight (into a familiar airport) is just as critical as the first 12 hours, perhaps even more so after the fatigue of having everything but the kitchen sink thrown at them while onstation. Four missed-approaches later and a potential brush with terrain, the decision to press on to the alternate possibly was the best decision of the flight.–LCdr. Paul Wilson, P-3 analyst, Naval Safety Center.