CROPDUSTER PILOT (2)
Among my father's countless adventures, this one has a special interest. Describes a near death experience, product of those dangerous flights of agricultural fumigation. This event took place in March of 1958, in one of the fields of the so-called Hacienda "Golondrinas" in Piura, northern Perú, when my father flew for the CAFA company.
I heard this story dozens of times throughout my life and each time it became more real and detailed. It was not until my father-somehow-recovered the photographs that were taken from his crashed airplane that the story and the drama involved came to life . I could write it by heart, but I prefer to stop at this point and make way for my father so that, from the pages of his book "Pilot of the FAP" is he himself who can relate this chilling episode, the accident he suffered on an "Stearman" airplane modified for agricultural spraying work.
The Hand of Death
From the book "Air Force Pilot" by Pedro Izquierdo Kernan
I was very busy that morning when time ran
faster than the plane. This time I was using a 220 H.P. duster to apply Folidol[1]
Powder. The engineer who attended the latest reloads indicated that it was
going to be necessary to stop the application at 0645 hrs. because the wind was
beginning to blow for short streaks. I hurried the load because I only needed
two and each took five minutes or so.
I worked on a small crop close to an elevated
hill. The plane maneuvered very well every time "The pass" took us
near the rocky mole. I turned on a wing after rising, rubbing his side to
return to fall right on the edge of the field where he expected the
"flag." I made the third passage and at the end I pulled the lever
and the Stearman shot up, I saw the rocks passing under the tummy of the
biplane and started the turn breaking to the right. But something didn't go well.
I could perceive that some turbulence had arisen just as it ascended. While
trying to execute the turn, my blood froze by checking that the rocks and the
hill itself approached to hit the belly of the plane and I understood, in one
micron of the second, that the wind threw me against the elevation... collided
the big wheels and all the structure of the Stearman shuddered. Instinctively
push the accelerator all ahead, to "full", but the plane had been
suspended in space after bouncing in the rocks where he could see a geodesic signal
(pointed out 100 meters elevation mark). Desperately I moved the lever without
getting a response from the plane, I was in a situation of total speed loss!
I knew what that meant, had collided with a
hill at a point a hundred meters high and would now fall as stone over God
knows what. The engine squeaked to the max in search of its useless RPM, could
not change the situation in nothing. I turned frantically at my head trying to
find something to hold myself from, but everything changed; The Hill, the sky,
the fields, everything revolved quickly, and the commands of the plane were
useless, loose as if they had been disconnected. A strong tremor shook the red wings
and we sank backwards.
Then a tremendous noise dominated the moment
and I felt thousands of metal clicks around me while an immense force was
trying to get me out of the seat; My legs and arms moved everywhere and
collided with everything without being able to contain them Like a wimp. I
shrank with great effort and with all the energies I could gather I took a few
tubes to the sides of the instrumental panel and stepped on the pedals. The
plane revolved with incredible violence and perceived the sound of a gigantic
woodworking saw. They passed between my legs pieces of wood and tubes; Just at
that moment I closed my eyes. I knew that, at any moment, in a thousandth of a
second, something was going to tear me apart--isn't it in the accidents of
Aviation? -frantically imprisoned the tubes of the fuselage between my hands
and pressed my feet against the pedals. Within me I had decided not to die, I
knew I would not die; He was sure that he would return to fly; I increased my
strength to the fullest and I fought mentally against the terrible possibility.
Now it sounds ridiculous, but it was like that.
I decided to use all my strength against the phenomenon of which I was a puppet.
I knew that death had appeared, but he would not be pleased this morning. No,
maybe some other day... I felt like a dice in the hands of a demon. In front of
me paraded the faces of my loved ones. I fought harder. But did I fight? It
just fell. How long would a fall last from 100 meters? I had opened his eyes
and saw the dizzying movement of hill, Sky and fields without being able to
believe it.
I sank my head between my shoulders and grab
the irons with insane fury; I have not shouted, mumble some interjection because
I knew we're going to crash. Something strikes with great force my head and my
glasses come out of the face, an intense pain bites my shoulders and my thighs,
the safety straps! I pushed with my boots the hopper tank and I feel like it
sinks, I feel that the demon wins the fight... what happens now? There is
silence, there is stillness, no pain... I wallow in the seat and I check that I
am well and still strapped. I wait without moving... fire? Explosion? It always
happens that way. I feel nothing... not a crunch... nothing.
Suddenly I realize that everything is over,
and I raise my arms looking for the ground, stupid of me if I am seated! I look up, I see a tree of Molle[2]
in the vicinity and I observe that we are wrapped in a white cloud, very white,
-Am I in pilot´s heaven? I didn´t feel the heat of a possible fire or anything
like flames. I react at last. Loose the straps that hold me and jump out of the
cabin -or What is left of her- I run into the tree and I realize that I am complete.
No pain, no fractures, but... that so white is not... smoke, is...Folidol[3]! I'm all covered in the dangerous
insecticide! I get to the tree and find a stream that runs next to it. I dive immediately
in the stream even dressed to get rid of the poison I could do in my what the
accident has not achieved.
Grabbing from the
roots of the molle I dive several times until the leather of the sack and the
gloves washed the white dust and show the natural brown of leather. I left the
channel and quickly undress. Dark red spots cover my muscles and belly--the
straps--my shoulders and neck ache, but nothing more. Agitated and tremendously
impressed, looms a field-pawn with his Palana[4] still
in hand--"captain... captain... what happened captain? You´re alive!
"-and his eyes were open to the maximum to convince me that I was there,
in my underwear in the sunshine... Smiled.
The peasant, calmer, told me his testimony:
"I saw the plane when it fell... what a noise! gúa[5]!
Everything jumped from the apparatus... like stones pulled apart... Then I felt
the clatter of the crash with the ground, and I saw the white cloud and the
silence afterwards. He had run to the place and saw a completely white human figure
appear: -".... and captain, cojudo[6]
I am, I thought it was a ghost and run away! Captain, you are getting pale!
"- I realized that the shock was coming. I got head down on the slope of
the canal and felt better.
Appeared the engineer of the Hacienda on his
horse at full gallop, ran towards me he hugged me strongly. His eyes were moist
and he could not articulate a word. He took me by the arms and observed me from
top to bottom. The lorry arrived, and he sent it back to get me some clean
clothes. The cloud of folidol it had dissipated, and we looked at the remains
of the plane from the small elevation. "My God"- he said. I was
impressed, too. From the beautiful plane there was only the remains of the main
landing gear, the dented hopper and the seat. Around that all remaining pieces
were scattered around twenty meters radius. Pieces of wood, red cloth and
twisted tubes. There was no engine, no propeller, no wings, no tank, nothing.
The engineer went back to mutte something I didn't understand. The pawn broke
the sepulchral silence--"captain, you born again, look what's left of the
airplane... "
After the scare whose qualification surpasses
all I had experienced, the other pilots came to observe the site of the
accident and congratulate me for finding me yet and incredibly, alive. Later,
the work of that day was suspended, and we ended up in the bodega of the
Hacienda San Jacinto where they made me pay a box of a dozen Johnny Walker´s -uncorked-
all of them were consumed throughout the day. Staff of the hacienda, pilots, company
staff and workers of hacienda “Golondrina”, gave good account of the whisky. At
night, I returned to my home in Piura with more havoc caused by the Scottish
Spirit than by the accident.
The next day, the mechanic of the plane
informed me that all he could salvage from the accident were the three wheels:
two of the main gear and the small tail, the dented but complete hopper and
what contained the cabin (lever, pedals, cables, etc....).
Apparently, the
engine collided with the shedding hill of the fuselage, but the propeller that spin
at more than 2.000 revolutions, jumped from its axis and cut the studs that
held the upper wing above my head. Everything, everything had been very close
to me... but it hadn't touched me. So far I think death thought he had a little
fun with me that morning. He posed his bony hand on my shoulder, letting me
feel all the cold of his closeness; But he was content with that... and let me
follow...
[3] Insecticide of Methyl Parathion
manufactured by the German firm Bayer. It's considered very dangerous.
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