Commentary by Tech. Sgt. Christopher Chamberlin
517th Aircraft Maintenance Unit flying crew chief
12/11/2013 - JOINT BASE ELMENDORF-RICHARDSON, Alaska -- On
a warm night at Camp Bastion, Afghanistan, I watched 33 U.S. Marine
military working dog handlers deplane with their bomb dogs. The ramp was
quiet -- our C-17 Globemaster III was the only aircraft I could see.
It had been a long day so far. After almost seven hours flying from
Germany, there was a lot to be done. I waited anxiously for the last of
our passengers to leave so I could reach my ladder on the wall and start
servicing engine oil. While our loadmasters began downloading the nine
pallets we had on board, I slipped right into my routine. I replenished
all the engine oil that had burned off during the long flight, then it
was time for an exterior inspection. While I was crouched down in the
gear pod looking at our tires, I saw the loadmaster coming my way.
"Loadmasters don't belong in the gear pod," I thought to myself.
"Hey chief, better come look at this," he said to me with a huge smirk.
I knew this was going to be a good one. As we walked back towards the
cargo ramp, I could see the cloud of fine mist forming. A quick look
revealed we had a pin-hole leak in a pressurized hydraulic line. Just
like that, the C-17 was broken. The mission stopped dead in its tracks
-- we would not be quick-turning for our next stop that night.
It was my time to shine. All eyes were on the flying crew chief. I was
already long into my duty day but the work had just begun. Using the
aircraft's on-board satellite phone, I got in touch with hydraulic
experts back at home station. With the aid of Boeing engineers,
determined that I could disconnect this line and cap it off, effectively
disabling a non-essential system and returning the aircraft to flyable
condition.
It sounded like a good plan, but I did not have a cap that fit the line.
After I hung up, I got in touch with the local transient alert driver
and we took a ride down to the HH-60 Pave Hawk rescue squadron with
hopes the local guys at Bastion had the caps we needed in their supply.
I was in luck. The helicopter guys had a huge supply container with
multiple spare parts. I helped myself to one of every size fitting and I
was on my way.
We got back to the jet and I had the line disconnected and capped off in
a few minutes. I finished cleaning up all the leaked fluid and
replenished the reservoir to compensate for what had leaked. Our
aircraft commander made a couple of phone calls to let the airlift
mission controllers know that we were fixed and they kicked us a new
flight package.
With nothing but a few phone calls, some local maintenance help and an
hour of turning wrenches, this Operation Enduring Freedom mission was
back on track with less than a 24-hour delay.
This was one of the hardest, most demanding days I've had in over a year
of flying with the C-17, but it's also one I remember very fondly.
Scenarios like this are a perfect example of why we have flying crew
chiefs.
When an aircraft is away from the elaborate support infrastructure of
home station, the FCC shares the burden of ensuring the jet is properly
maintained for flight. Flying crew chiefs do everything from handling
routine post-flight and pre-flight inspections and fuel servicing, to
troubleshooting and repairing problems with engines, hydraulics,
environmental or avionics systems.
An FCC is typically a very experienced maintainer on the airframe who is
qualified in many different maintenance tasks. Yet, no matter how much
you know, every mission is different and there are always new hurdles to
overcome. That is what I love most about this job. Every day on the
road is a new opportunity to apply everything I have learned, to adapt
to things I have never encountered and to always be at the forefront,
seeing the impact of a mission well done.
It's a demanding, ever-changing, 24/7 commitment that I would not trade for any other job in the Air Force.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
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