The Hot Seat

The flight to Iraq proceeded normally, even our tactical approach and landing at a large American airbase there. A fleet of ambulances began to arrive as we shut down, but aeromedical evacuation missions take considerable time to load patients and takeoff, so we knew we’d never make our scheduled takeoff time several hours away. It was quite hot outside, and as our engines wound down and our APU, or auxiliary power unit, took over the air load for our air conditioning system, we knew we were in for a sweltering ground time. The APU’s insufficient air flow did nothing to hold off the steadily mounting air temperatures outside, and it was not even past ten in the morning yet.

By the time half of the patients were onboard, it was nearly 100 degrees in the cargo compartment. Upstairs in the cockpit, it was even worse; with all of the electronic flight displays and other avionics equipment, it was topping 117 degrees. We asked maintenance for an air cart to pump cooler air into the aircraft, but they had to borrow one from a fighter squadron down the ramp. But we eventually had two air carts pumping air into the aircraft through our crew entry door.

It was like trying to use an air conditioner at a backyard cookout in Houston – in August. It felt great if I was standing right in front of the duct, but if I moved a foot to the side, I was back in the furnace. Patients were still slowly arriving, and one of the recent arrivals, a civilian contractor with chronic emphysema, was having complications. They were trying to stabilize him for flight, but things were not looking good. He desperately needed better care than he could receive in Iraq, but if his condition didn’t improve enough, we’d have to leave him behind.

Since we had only planned for a short flight from Turkey to Germany, we did not bring enough food for a longer day. The crew was getting hungry, so we sent somebody to load up on food from the chow hall. Soon we had a feast of imitation scrambled eggs, greasy sausage, French toast sticks, and fruit to hold us over. The temperature was holding steady, but maintenance was unable to fix the problem. We’d have to take off in a flying furnace.

They finally stabilized the patient and the medical crew was soon ready to depart. We started up and taxied out, eager to takeoff for Germany. We lined up and pushed the throttles up and began our takeoff roll. Passing 60 knots, one of our engines red-lined with an over-temperature. Reluctantly, I pulled the throttles back to idle and we taxied back to maintenance. If there was much damage to the engine, we’d be stuck, waiting for a new engine to arrive from out-of-country. It’d be days before we made it out, if we were lucky enough to have another engine nearby.

While the maintenance crews inspected the engine, we called for a third air cart, in addition to the others already being rolled back into place. Soon we had a duct snaking up the flight deck, and we enjoyed much colder air in the cockpit. For the first time in over 16 hours, it was almost perfect conditions to take a nap.

But it was not to be. Maintenance found no damage in the engine, so we readied ourselves for another takeoff attempt. We pulled out the duct work, started our engines, and taxied back out. But we had a better plan for the second attempt. We turned off all the bleed air from the engines (which provide air for the air conditioning and pressurization systems) and took our time advancing the throttles to max power. We were able to takeoff before the engine over-temped, but since we were airborne, we elected to pull the power back slightly and continue onto Germany with our mission.

It was still unbearably hot in the aircraft and it would take two hours into the flight for the temperatures to drop to a comfortable level. We’d have to write the air conditioning system up, as well as the engine, which would eventually need to be changed. But despite our problems, at least we were able to deliver our patients to the medical center in Germany.

And we wouldn’t have to spend the night in Iraq.