A-10s over Kosovo (illustrations removed)

“Lynx 11. OK, Bobcat. I’ve been hit. My right engine has been taken out. I’m single engine. I’m currently south of G-Town, and I’m headed towards Skopje. I’ve got the right engine… looks like the whole engine cowling got hit… and I’ve got no right hydraulics. I’ve got a wingman with me, and I’m headed towards Skopje. Currently I’m about five miles from the border.” I was not afraid, but the adrenalin rush had me excited. Time was distorted, and my world had slowed to a snail’s pace. Between keeping the jet aloft and talking on the radios, I clearly pictured myself hugging my kids. I just knew I was going to make it out of Kosovo.

“Lynx, Bobcat 21. Are you still up?”

“Lynx 11, that’s affirmative. I’m staying up this freq currently. I am losing altitude, but I think that now I might be able to make it across the border.” As I spoke on the radio I had the sensation that this was not really happening to me. I must have been watching some other poor fighter pilot struggling to stay airborne. I had to help him as best I could to get out of these dire circumstances.

“Bobcat 21, understand you are single engine and you’ve got a hydraulic system out?”

“Lynx 11, that’s affirmative. I’ve got the right hydraulic system out.… OK, I feel fairly confident that I’ll make it across the border, not sure if I can land. I’m going to set up for Skopje though.” By then I could see the border just a couple of miles in front of me. I figured even if the left engine quit, I could still glide to Macedonia. My mind now started to think about what I would do with the jet once I got past the border. The situation was looking better—the left engine was working well and I was getting used to handling the jet. As I descended to lower altitude, she started to perform better, and I began to think I might be able to land her.

“Lynx 12, are you visual? Come right… Look at your right three o’clock.”

“Two’s visual, falling into wedge.”

“Lynx 11, OK. I want you to stay high wedge.”

“Two’s high wedge. Your six is clear.” I finally got Andy’s eyes onto me just about the time we crossed the border. My mind now turned to how to make a controlled descent for a safe landing at Skopje, some 9,000 feet below. I had Andy come in to give me a battle-damage check. He saw nothing wrong with the jet, except the damage to the right engine.

I proceeded with a controllability check to determine whether I could land the jet and found that I had three problems. First, I could not make right turns into the bad engine. Second, I lowered the gear and received stall indications just below maximum landing speed. This meant I was going to have to land fast. Third, the Skopje airfield was oriented north-south and I was five miles north of the field and much too high to land. I was not sure whether the left engine had enough thrust to go around if I screwed up the approach. I wanted to take my time and do it right the first time. I elected to set myself up for a left-teardrop approach to land from the south. This option gave me the advantage of staying in lefthand turns for the approach and allowed me to gradually lose altitude. Finally, since the wind was coming from the north, I could land with a headwind, which would help decrease my ground speed and landing distance.

The tower at Skopje was very helpful, diverting two heavy aircraft on approach as I started my teardrop turn to final. The jet was flying well in the left turn, and my next concern was what would happen when I rolled level on final approach. I adjusted the pattern to roll out just over the approach-end lights (a normal circling approach would have had me roll out one mile before touchdown). On final I felt the nose start to yaw to the right, and I countered by pulling the power on my left engine to idle. The reduction in thrust on the left side reduced the right yaw, and I began to glide to the runway. I did not flare the jet but “planted” the landing, touching down firmly just below maximum landing speed.

Skopje was a good, long runway, but I was going pretty fast and wanted to get the jet stopped. I aerobraked the damaged Hog as much as I could and finally put the nose down at around 120 knots. Because my speed brakes were inoperative, I relied only on my wheel brakes to slow me down. I waited until 100 knots to touch the brakes and was relieved to come to a full stop with 2,000 feet of runway to spare. Now that I had reached terra firma

, I wanted out of the jet as soon as possible. I automatically ran through the bold-face procedure—the ones pilots commit to memory—for “emergency ground egress” to shut down the remaining engine and exit the aircraft. I ran to the side of the runway, turned, and looked at my battered jet.

\Photo: Damaged jet at Skopje