Complacency is NOT for the birds Published April 12, 2016 By Maj. Rob "Hoot" Hoeritz 349th Air Refueling Squadron KIRTLAND AIR FORCE BASE, N.M. -- Note: Long before the Air Force Safety Center stood up at Kirtland Air Force Base, N.M., on Jan. 1, 1996, Airmen were sharing their lessons learned in a variety of safety publications such as Aerospace Safety, Aerospace Maintenance Safety, Air Force Driver, among others. During a year-long commemoration of the safety center's 20th anniversary, the Public Affairs Office will highlight previously-published articles and reprise historic Rex Riley cartoons to emphasize that long-standing safety practices and lessons learned remain relevant to the mishap prevention program of today's Air Force. The central portion of the United States has a serious issue when it comes to bird strikes, especially BASH Most Costly Species Posters during migratory periods. McConnellAFB, located in Wichita, Kan., is no exception.During my requalification in the KC-135R, a flight in October without a bird strike seemed rare. Sometimes the crew heard the strike and performed a full-stop landing to allow for a maintenance inspection. Maintenance normally didn't find any damage. We'd go back to work and take off again until the next bird strike occurred or until we completed the sortie. Othertimes we flew an entire sortie and didn't realize we had a bird strike, or two or three, until accomplishing the post-flight inspection and noticing the snarge. Snarge is the technical term for bird remains coined by the bird/wildlife aircraft strike hazard experts at the Air Force Safety Center. For every bird strike, we found ourselves filling out extra paperwork to report the mishap that only seemed to extend our day. The bottom line is I was slowly being conditioned to view a bird strike as only a time-wasting hassle and was becoming desensitized to its potentially devastating effects. On one particular evening as I was nearing the end of my training, we were scheduled for a refueling mission followed by transition. After slipping our takeoff a few times for various maintenance issues, our refueling was cancelled. We finally were able to get airborne to complete the transition portion of the sortie. I was in the jump seat on the initial takeoff, and weproceeded to holding to do a seat swap. As I settled into the left seat and buckled up, I barely captured a blur out of my left eye's peripheral vision, followed by a large audible bang. At the time I wasn't sure what I'd seen, or if I'd seen anything at all, as the city lights of Wichita glared off of the side cockpit window. I glanced at the engine instruments with my focus on No. 1 and No. 2 engines; everything appeared normal and stable. Without a doubt, I knew I heard something loud as if somebody had slammed the Dash-1 on the crew entry grate. I asked the pilot in the jump seat if he had dropped something, but he said he hadn't. At that point I said, "Crew, I think we just hit a bird. Boom, please go scan the left wing and let me know what you see." Nobody else on the crew heard the bird strike, and the boom reported back that everything appeared to be normal. In the moments that followed, I had many thoughts. Did I really hear something? Maybe we didn't hit a bird. Should I disregard my first intuition and try to knock out this training so we didn't have to manipulate the deployment schedule? These were my Type A "go-go-go" thoughts. But as is the case with many other decisions, I found myself asking if the juice was worth the squeeze. In the words of operational risk management, is the benefit and gain toward mission accomplishment worth the risk of the identified hazards? The Dash-1 contains a specific caution that clearly and directly deals with this situation and reads, "Serious engine damage can occur from bird ingestion without accompanying abnormal indications on engine instruments. If bird ingestion is suspected, consider operating the engine at a reduced thrust setting and land as soon as practicable for inspection." If we had abnormal engine indications, deciding to land would be a no-brainer. Without the Dash-1 caution, the decision to land or continue the flight becomes a little grayer. If you believe your flight manual was written in blood, so to speak, then you might find yourself wondering what event occurred to bring forth a particular note, warning or caution. In this case, I questioned why the Dash-1 mentioned this caution that dealt directly with this situation. If a bird strike was suspected, but no damage was immediately noted or observed, then a pilot might be inclined to continue the mission. However, minor and undetectable damage may have occurred that could potentially lead to significant damage, failure, costly repairs or perhaps even worse consequences over time. With this realization, I knew it was time to "knock it off," land and have the aircraft inspected. Chances were pretty good that maintenance would check out the aircraft and clear us to fly. Once again, it was just going to be another late night dealing with bird strike inspections and filling out paperwork for the safety office. We performed an uneventful, four-engine ILS to the runway for the full stop. As we taxied into our parking spot, I noticed a few maintenance folks pointing their fingers toward the left wing. They waved their buddies over, pointing with a little more expression and excitement. At that juncture, I figured maintenance had identified a bird strike. After chocks were installed, the crew chief came up on the interphone and said, "Sir, you can shut her down; you ain't going anywhere." By this point, it seemed the entire late shift had gathered around to get a peek at this bird strike. The suspense was killing me. I opened my sliding window, slung my head out and was in awe with what I saw. There was a large gaping hole through the leading edge of the wing. It looked like a bowling ball battled the aircraft and won. I was in utter disbelief. On the walkaround, we realized we had taken out at least three geese. One goose pierced through the leading edge of wing between the fuselage and the No. 2 engine. Another had grazed off the top of the wing between the No. 1 and No. 2 engine. The third goose went straight through the No. 1 engine. When a little bird goes through an engine, you might find some small amounts of snarge. When you take a goose through an engine, it looks like the entire engine has been tarred and feathered. After viewing the damage, I once again had many thoughts. What if we had continued the mission? What if we had lost both engines? I can't believe the plane flies just fine with a big, gaping hole in the wing. These engines are pretty durable. This could have been much worse. Thank goodness for the caution about bird strikes. I'm sure glad we decided to land. This is not just a story about birds, but one example of parallel stories most of us have experienced displaying typical human behavior. The first time we encounter an issue with our aircraft, environment or crew, we use great caution while closely monitoring the issue. After multiple exposures with no significant effects, we become a little more relaxed and desensitized to the issue, which generates complacency. This attitude is generally one of the links in the chain to a mishap. I challenge each of you to avoid this pitfall. Remain on top of your game and never underestimate your current situation. NEVER hug a lion and ALWAYS fly safe! (Reprinted from Wingman Magazine, Spring 2010)