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Face To Face With Hurricane Bill
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The Bulletin Rides With The USAF ‘Hurricane Hunters’
By CHRIS FREIND, For The Bulletin
“Jumping out of a perfectly good aircraft is not a natural act. So let's do it right and enjoy the view.”---Clint Eastwood's U.S. Marine character in “Heartbreak Ridge.”
Being that “Bill” was the top story in newspapers and on television nationwide, it seemed like a good idea to make his acquaintance. After all, it's not every day many get to meet someone or, in this case, something, with a magnitude as great as Bill's. At least, that's what I kept telling myself after receiving a call on a Friday evening from the U.S. Air Force “Hurricane Hunters” squadron asking if I could be at Andrews Air Force Base (AFB) in 24 hours. They had front-row seats to the Hurricane Bill show and I was on the A-List.
The Hurricane Hunters comprise the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron (WRS) based out of Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi. According to the unit's public affairs office, it is a one-of-a-kind organization. It is the only operational unit in the world that engages in weather reconnaissance on a routine basis. The primary mission of this Air Force Reserve unit is to perform aerial weather reconnaissance of tropical storms and hurricanes in the Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean Sea, Gulf of Mexico and the central Pacific Ocean. In a unique arrangement, the WRS is effectively directed not by the Department of Defense, but by the Department of Commerce's National Hurricane Center. The squadron's mission calls for the unit to be able to engage in continuous operations 24 hours per day with the ability to fly into 3 storms at a time. Based on these requirements, the WRS is staffed with ten full-time and ten part-time aircrews.
Each aircrew includes a pilot, co-pilot, navigator, aerial reconnaissance weather officer, flight meteorologist and a weather loadmaster. There are often several backup pilots and co-pilots since a mission could last up to 18 hours.
The flight meteorologist, observing and recording meteorological data at the horizontal flight level while the loadmaster collects and records vertical weather data by using dropsondes, devices shot out of the airplane while inside the storm which measure temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, wind speed and wind direction. Dropsonde information is relayed back to the plane twice per second, which, after being tabulated with the horizontal data via an advanced computer program, is relayed to the National Hurricane Center at regular intervals. Other weather instruments determine rainfall amounts, ocean temperature and wind speeds at the sea surface.
A hurricane is like a tumor. Its presence is known, but critical details must still be ascertained, such as size, growth, direction and the precise type of entity it is in order to understand its nature and potential. Hurricane forecasters use the Hunters' data to determine if a storm will intensify and where it may head. The mission of the Hurricane Hunters is immensely valuable because it increases the accuracy of hurricane predictions by 30 percent. With this information, not only does the WRS help prevent the loss of lives due to the proactive nature of their mission, but the WRS also saves millions of dollars, since it costs approximately one million dollars to evacuate every mile of coastline.
A variation of Clint Eastwood's words echoes in my mind as we sit on a rainy runway at Andrews AFB, just outside Washington, D.C:
“Flying a perfectly good aircraft into the heart of a hurricane is not a natural act.” It is midnight and I continue to tell myself that the crew will “do it right,” so I should “enjoy the view.”
The WC-130 is a venerable aircraft, so successful in its design that it is still being manufactured after 50 years. The four mighty turboprops that would carry us into the storm fired up and we were ready to roll. Nothing could stop us now.
Except, of course, for a parade of ducks and ducklings that proceeded to cross – waddling past –indifferent to the mighty presence and noise of this aircraft. The eight-man aircrew, one of the most seasoned to ever fly a hurricane mission, were as giddy as little kids, even trying to snap photos of the unusual sight. I take this light moment as a good omen.
Moments later, after a surprisingly short sprint down the runway, we are airborne, heading east. Flying over the Chesapeake and Delaware Bays, we pass over South Jersey, where my three little children are sleeping far below. A moment of brief anxiety sets in because for the uninitiated such as myself, it's only natural to think about “worst case” scenarios. We are doing the complete opposite of what people do when a hurricane nears. Instead of fleeing from it, we are chasing after it.
The biggest difference between a WC-130 cockpit and that of a commercial airliner is the number of windows. While a typical passenger jet has four panes, our plane has 18, affording an extended peripheral view as well as an increased vertical view. As we progress out over the Atlantic, the first of what will be many contrasts strikes me. Peering up, the sky is crystal clear, with more stars than ever seen from land without a telescope. It is hard to believe that in a short period of time that view will be clouded over by a huge storm.
Among the various monitors and screens in the cockpit is one that displays everything in our flight path ahead. In short order, there it is. It is the spectacular yet, familiar funnel shape of Bill’s form, in all its glory, and we are closing fast.
The most common question asked by the public is “How do the Hurricane Hunters' planes withstand the forces of a hurricane, since wind speeds can approach 200 miles per hour?” Major Jeff Ragusa, commander of our mission, explained the ride is not usually as bumpy and one might expect. This is because the plane, as a moving object, is not subject to the same stresses of land-based structures. Stationary objects, such as trees, cars and buildings must either withstand a hurricane's winds or get blown away when they reach a breaking point.
Major Ragusa used the analogy of a swimmer in a strong current of water to further relate the concept. Whether the current is 20 miles per hour or 40, the swimmer is not physically harmed because he isn't stationary. He is simply moving with the water. The turbulence from the hurricane on the plane is minimized due to “crabbing,” where the pilot moves the plane at a lateral angle through the winds.
However, “crabbing” doesn't guarantee the flight will be a cakewalk. The crew has to be constantly aware of extremely powerful downdrafts from the thunderstorms that swirl inside the hurricane.
For various meteorological reasons, the standard altitude for entering the hurricane is 10,000 feet at which time the plane slows to 200 mph from its cruising speed of 320 mph. One reason that the 10,000 foot level is one often adhered to by the crews is that it provides a safer point of entry.
In 2005, Hurricane Wilma progressed from Category 1, the weakest type of hurricane, to a Category 5, the strongest type. Wilma's progression was faster than any other storm in history. It remains the most powerful hurricane on record. During a Hurricane Hunter flight into Wilma in which the plane was considerably lower than 10,000 feet, a downdraft slammed the plane 2,500 feet straight down in a matter of seconds. Having the ocean rush up that quickly is not something an aircrew wants to experience.
On Hurricane Hunter missions, the planes serve as islands unto themselves. On our flight, the navigator tells us during the briefing that we are the only aircraft close to the storm. And since cargo ships avoid the shipping lanes affected by the hurricane, there are no surface vessels for hundreds of miles.
Waves generated by Bill rise higher than an inconceivable 60 feet and are clearly visible from our altitude two miles above the surface. Should the plane have to ditch at sea, the crew would be on its own for a considerable amount of time. Since the Hurricane Hunters have never lost any of their 10 planes, I rest easier knowing the odds of a safe return are on my side.
The flight continues for hours and we penetrate the eye of Hurricane Bill eight times. We fly over Nantucket and as far north as Halifax, Canada. Though visibility is limited while flying through the storm, there are breathtaking views when the plane is out of the hurricane. Despite the raging seas and fierce winds around us, we witness a spectacular sunrise above the clouds and a rainbow so vivid it is one for the record books. The placid vistas are tinged with a surreal quality as they are a direct juxtaposition to the savage hurricane nearby.
After our final pass through the eye, we head for home, weary from the mission, the ever-present turbulence, the noise level and the utilitarian accommodations. The WC-130 is a workhorse-built for function, and it does its job flawlessly, but it is no luxury airliner.
The WRS crew, underneath their friendly exterior, are serious, focused, knowledgeable and able airmen who face elevated risks every time they take to the skies. They perform their mission with respectable professionalism and poise knowing that what they do maintains the value of human life and property. And, in their work, they exhibit true courage.
After a picture-perfect landing, I stepped out onto the tarmac with a newly found respect for solid ground under a clear blue sky. I reflected on the flight of the WC-130 and the tempest we just endured. For 11 hours I was a Hurricane Hunter. Major Ragusa handed me a 53rd WRS squadron patch.
From start to finish, it was a truly memorable experience.
Chris Freind can be reached at CF@FreindlyFireZone.com.
Being that “Bill” was the top story in newspapers and on television nationwide, it seemed like a good idea to make his acquaintance. After all, it's not every day many get to meet someone or, in this case, something, with a magnitude as great as Bill's. At least, that's what I kept telling myself after receiving a call on a Friday evening from the U.S. Air Force “Hurricane Hunters” squadron asking if I could be at Andrews Air Force Base (AFB) in 24 hours. They had front-row seats to the Hurricane Bill show and I was on the A-List.
The Hurricane Hunters comprise the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron (WRS) based out of Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi. According to the unit's public affairs office, it is a one-of-a-kind organization. It is the only operational unit in the world that engages in weather reconnaissance on a routine basis. The primary mission of this Air Force Reserve unit is to perform aerial weather reconnaissance of tropical storms and hurricanes in the Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean Sea, Gulf of Mexico and the central Pacific Ocean. In a unique arrangement, the WRS is effectively directed not by the Department of Defense, but by the Department of Commerce's National Hurricane Center. The squadron's mission calls for the unit to be able to engage in continuous operations 24 hours per day with the ability to fly into 3 storms at a time. Based on these requirements, the WRS is staffed with ten full-time and ten part-time aircrews.
Each aircrew includes a pilot, co-pilot, navigator, aerial reconnaissance weather officer, flight meteorologist and a weather loadmaster. There are often several backup pilots and co-pilots since a mission could last up to 18 hours.
The flight meteorologist, observing and recording meteorological data at the horizontal flight level while the loadmaster collects and records vertical weather data by using dropsondes, devices shot out of the airplane while inside the storm which measure temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, wind speed and wind direction. Dropsonde information is relayed back to the plane twice per second, which, after being tabulated with the horizontal data via an advanced computer program, is relayed to the National Hurricane Center at regular intervals. Other weather instruments determine rainfall amounts, ocean temperature and wind speeds at the sea surface.
A hurricane is like a tumor. Its presence is known, but critical details must still be ascertained, such as size, growth, direction and the precise type of entity it is in order to understand its nature and potential. Hurricane forecasters use the Hunters' data to determine if a storm will intensify and where it may head. The mission of the Hurricane Hunters is immensely valuable because it increases the accuracy of hurricane predictions by 30 percent. With this information, not only does the WRS help prevent the loss of lives due to the proactive nature of their mission, but the WRS also saves millions of dollars, since it costs approximately one million dollars to evacuate every mile of coastline.
A variation of Clint Eastwood's words echoes in my mind as we sit on a rainy runway at Andrews AFB, just outside Washington, D.C:
“Flying a perfectly good aircraft into the heart of a hurricane is not a natural act.” It is midnight and I continue to tell myself that the crew will “do it right,” so I should “enjoy the view.”
The WC-130 is a venerable aircraft, so successful in its design that it is still being manufactured after 50 years. The four mighty turboprops that would carry us into the storm fired up and we were ready to roll. Nothing could stop us now.
Except, of course, for a parade of ducks and ducklings that proceeded to cross – waddling past –indifferent to the mighty presence and noise of this aircraft. The eight-man aircrew, one of the most seasoned to ever fly a hurricane mission, were as giddy as little kids, even trying to snap photos of the unusual sight. I take this light moment as a good omen.
Moments later, after a surprisingly short sprint down the runway, we are airborne, heading east. Flying over the Chesapeake and Delaware Bays, we pass over South Jersey, where my three little children are sleeping far below. A moment of brief anxiety sets in because for the uninitiated such as myself, it's only natural to think about “worst case” scenarios. We are doing the complete opposite of what people do when a hurricane nears. Instead of fleeing from it, we are chasing after it.
The biggest difference between a WC-130 cockpit and that of a commercial airliner is the number of windows. While a typical passenger jet has four panes, our plane has 18, affording an extended peripheral view as well as an increased vertical view. As we progress out over the Atlantic, the first of what will be many contrasts strikes me. Peering up, the sky is crystal clear, with more stars than ever seen from land without a telescope. It is hard to believe that in a short period of time that view will be clouded over by a huge storm.
Among the various monitors and screens in the cockpit is one that displays everything in our flight path ahead. In short order, there it is. It is the spectacular yet, familiar funnel shape of Bill’s form, in all its glory, and we are closing fast.
The most common question asked by the public is “How do the Hurricane Hunters' planes withstand the forces of a hurricane, since wind speeds can approach 200 miles per hour?” Major Jeff Ragusa, commander of our mission, explained the ride is not usually as bumpy and one might expect. This is because the plane, as a moving object, is not subject to the same stresses of land-based structures. Stationary objects, such as trees, cars and buildings must either withstand a hurricane's winds or get blown away when they reach a breaking point.
Major Ragusa used the analogy of a swimmer in a strong current of water to further relate the concept. Whether the current is 20 miles per hour or 40, the swimmer is not physically harmed because he isn't stationary. He is simply moving with the water. The turbulence from the hurricane on the plane is minimized due to “crabbing,” where the pilot moves the plane at a lateral angle through the winds.
However, “crabbing” doesn't guarantee the flight will be a cakewalk. The crew has to be constantly aware of extremely powerful downdrafts from the thunderstorms that swirl inside the hurricane.
For various meteorological reasons, the standard altitude for entering the hurricane is 10,000 feet at which time the plane slows to 200 mph from its cruising speed of 320 mph. One reason that the 10,000 foot level is one often adhered to by the crews is that it provides a safer point of entry.
In 2005, Hurricane Wilma progressed from Category 1, the weakest type of hurricane, to a Category 5, the strongest type. Wilma's progression was faster than any other storm in history. It remains the most powerful hurricane on record. During a Hurricane Hunter flight into Wilma in which the plane was considerably lower than 10,000 feet, a downdraft slammed the plane 2,500 feet straight down in a matter of seconds. Having the ocean rush up that quickly is not something an aircrew wants to experience.
On Hurricane Hunter missions, the planes serve as islands unto themselves. On our flight, the navigator tells us during the briefing that we are the only aircraft close to the storm. And since cargo ships avoid the shipping lanes affected by the hurricane, there are no surface vessels for hundreds of miles.
Waves generated by Bill rise higher than an inconceivable 60 feet and are clearly visible from our altitude two miles above the surface. Should the plane have to ditch at sea, the crew would be on its own for a considerable amount of time. Since the Hurricane Hunters have never lost any of their 10 planes, I rest easier knowing the odds of a safe return are on my side.
The flight continues for hours and we penetrate the eye of Hurricane Bill eight times. We fly over Nantucket and as far north as Halifax, Canada. Though visibility is limited while flying through the storm, there are breathtaking views when the plane is out of the hurricane. Despite the raging seas and fierce winds around us, we witness a spectacular sunrise above the clouds and a rainbow so vivid it is one for the record books. The placid vistas are tinged with a surreal quality as they are a direct juxtaposition to the savage hurricane nearby.
After our final pass through the eye, we head for home, weary from the mission, the ever-present turbulence, the noise level and the utilitarian accommodations. The WC-130 is a workhorse-built for function, and it does its job flawlessly, but it is no luxury airliner.
The WRS crew, underneath their friendly exterior, are serious, focused, knowledgeable and able airmen who face elevated risks every time they take to the skies. They perform their mission with respectable professionalism and poise knowing that what they do maintains the value of human life and property. And, in their work, they exhibit true courage.
After a picture-perfect landing, I stepped out onto the tarmac with a newly found respect for solid ground under a clear blue sky. I reflected on the flight of the WC-130 and the tempest we just endured. For 11 hours I was a Hurricane Hunter. Major Ragusa handed me a 53rd WRS squadron patch.
From start to finish, it was a truly memorable experience.
Chris Freind can be reached at CF@FreindlyFireZone.com.
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