Pilot In Italy Tragedy Says He Was "Off-Route"
ROME (Reuters) - A U.S. marine Corps pilot was quoted on Friday as saying he had been flying off-route but corrected his course and thought he was at a legal altitude when his plane hit cable car wires in the Dolomites, killing 20 people.
Il Corriere della Sera newspaper quoted pilot Richard Ashby, 30, as saying the cables "just suddenly sprang up in front of our eyes." It also quoted him as saying his altitude meter had not been working properly, but the crew had not realized.
"That cable just suddenly sprang up in front of my eyes. I did everything I could to avoid it. I swerved to the left, I hit it with the right wing and then with part of the tail fin," Ashby was quoted as saying.
He said he realized shortly afterward he had clipped a high tension cable.
"I didn't know exactly at what height we were. I don't know why, but the altitude meter wasn't responding properly and the audio-visual signals that usually go off didn't work," Ashby, from Mission Viejo in California, reportedly said.
"Anyhow, I thought I was still inside the rules, within the 500 feet that the regulations allow. We had gone off course a few miles earlier but then we righted ourselves. None of us realized what had happened, but I realized the plane had some sort of problem and I triggered the alarm."
U.S. officials have disputed Italian assertions that the plane, on a training mission, was flying six miles off course. They have also insisted the plane, a four-man surveillance aircraft, was authorized to fly low.
However, on Friday, a top U.S. marine corps official was quoted by the Washington Post as saying the plane should have been no lower than 1,000 feet.
The plane was clearly below that height.
The crew have so far declined to answer the questions of Italian prosecutors who are conducting one of two inquiries in to one of the worst cablecar disasters on record.
Eight Germans, five Belgians, three Italians, a Polish mother and teenage son, a Dutch woman and an Austrian were killed in the accident.
The second inquiry is being carried out by a seven-man team from a U.S. marine Corps base in North Carolina.
The divisions between Italy and the U.S. military over exactly what happened at 3:12 p.m (9:12 a.m. EST) on Tuesday, when the cablecar cabin was sent smashing in to a mountainside, looked set to deepen further.
"Italy-U.S. -- Two truths on the slaughter," read the headline in Corriere della Sera.
"Passing the Buck" was the blunt banner headline on the leftist paper Manifesto, which ran with calls from Refoundation Communist party leader Fausto Bertinotti for the immediate closure of U.S. bases in Italy.
Mystery still surrounded what had happened to part of the plane which was apparently removed by the four-man crew on returning to Aviano from their fateful training mission.
Italian magistrate Francantonio Granero said on Thursday he believed something had been removed from the cockpit, prompting local media to speculate the crew had tampered with the "black box" flight recorder.
On Friday morning, U.S. officials had handed the mystery object over to their Italian counterparts.
"I'm not sure exactly what it is yet," Granero said. "All will be revealed this morning."
^REUTERS@ Reut05:17 02-06-98
Scapegoat for the bureaucracy: marines relieve colonel in ski incident
The decision to relieve Lt. Col. Stephen Watters "stems from statements made to his squadron to destroy potential evidence," according to a corps statement quoted Wednesday by The New York Times.
He was relieved Friday, three days after a marine jet on a training flight from the Aviano air base severed a ski-lift cable, sending a gondola crashing to the ground. All 20 passengers were killed.
The U.S. military has acknowledged the plane, an EA-6B Prowler, was well below the approved altitude of 500 feet.
Watters was not the commander of the squadron involved, but his squadron rotates with three others between the Marine Air Station at Cherry Point, N.C., and the base in Aviano.
Watters asked his crew members if they had any home videos that might indicate they had flown too low on training flights, said a retired crew member who spoke to the Times on condition of anonymity.
Watters asked that the tapes be given to him, the source said.
The request could be interpreted as a commanding officer's willingness to stand by his crew if its members were accused of wrongdoing, the source added.
No charges have been filed against Watters, who joined the marines in 1979.
A spokesman for the U.S. Air Force command in southern Europe, Col. Ray Shepherd, declined to discuss Watters Wednesday. Watters had no comment when reached by the Times by telephone.
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By Gideon Long
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NEW YORK -- The U.S. marine corps has relieved a colonel of command, saying he told his crew to get rid of any evidence in last week's Italian ski gondola accident that killed 20 people.
Why America and marines suck: Lying flabby marine and navigator get away with MURDERING 20 PEOPLE.
news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/340507.stm
Ashby was acquitted in March of 20 counts of involuntary manslaughter.
That verdict provoked outrage in Italy and led to demands that Americans be banned from NATO air bases in Italy.
Ashby was at the controls of an EA-6B Prowler anti-radar jet which cut the cable on 3 February 1998, at Cavalese, Italy.
Twenty people died when the gondola crashed 370ft to the ground.
By The Associated Press
DO mARINES KNOW HOW TO FLY? LOOK WHO TRAINS THEM: FEMALE WANNA-BE PILOT DIES WITH HER INSTRUCTOR
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By Matthew Brelis, Globe Staff, 11/09/97
After spending 14 weeks trying to determine the cause of the crash of a T-2C Buckeye training jet that killed a Navy flight instructor and his [female] student aviator, U.S. marine Captain Paul E. Bowen came to a frightening conclusion: Many Navy and marine jet fighter flight instructors were unqualified for their jobs and in over their heads.
But the commanders who received Bowen's investigation of the 1992 crash that killed flight instructor Lieutenant Commander Gene D. Murrell, 46, and his student, Terri L. Wolthers, 28, quashed the report, the Globe has learned. The investigation was then ordered redone. [Cool! maybe the Cable-car massacre MC Colonel was there for that one!]
The new report, finished in less than three weeks, came to vastly different conclusions: There was no suggestion that Murrell or other jet instructors might be unqualified. And in approving the second report, officers up the chain of command blamed Wolthers for not ejecting from the aircraft sooner.
How the Navy handled the investigation into the obscure July 22, 1992, accident in a Mississippi forest is a startling example of the conflict of interest that is built into its method for probing fatal aviation accidents involving the Navy and marines. The commanders that ''own'' the plane that crashed also appoint the investigators. Because of that, they can control the direction and outcome of the investigation.
A Navy spokesman said the judge advocate general's office in Washington never received Bowen's report so it cannot comment on the conclusions he reached. Commander Brett B. Bernier, who conducted the second investigation, is no longer in the Navy and refused to comment. The squadron commanders who assigned the probe to Bernier have also left the Navy and could not be reached.
In a series of articles in June, the Globe reported that safety in the military is underfunded, investigations in the other service branches are compromised by the same conflict of interest that Bowen encountered, and that safety recommendations resulting from accidents in each of the services are frequently ignored. A computer-assisted analysis by the Globe of military records found that since late 1979, more than 2,100 service members died in aviation accidents that destroyed airplanes worth more than $20 billion.
After the articles, Defense Secretary William S. Cohen ordered the Defense Department inspector general to conduct a sweeping review of training and safety in the military.
The rewriting of his report to the judge advocate general has left Bowen, who retired from active duty in November 1992 after he submitted his report, and the Wolthers family believing the Navy covered up embarrassing truths and, in the process, kept other student aviators at risk.
"Terri chose a career fraught with risks, but I had always thought those risks would be minimized by those in charge," said the student pilot's mother, Mickey Wolthers, who has read Bowen's report.
"I had no reason to believe that the Navy would cover up the incident, but I don't feel that way anymore," she said. "They left out important findings and attempted to blame the accident on Terri; that is not OK. They disregarded their own orders; that is not OK. They put an instructor in the plane not trained to Navy standards, and that is not OK."
Bowen was more blunt, saying, "I don't know how some officers can sleep at night." [EDITOR: they are malignant narcissist psycho/sociopaths. Even if they have consciences, they don't follow them; EGO is eveything to them.]
Bowen's report concluded Murrell, the flight instructor, did not belong in a jet aircraft because he had not undergone the training Navy regulations require when pilots switch from propeller aircraft to jets.
As a result, Murrell, who felt uncomfortable doing the high performance flying required in jet training, tried to compensate by studying the instruction manual for the Buckeye. That strategy, Bowen found, left Murrell "perpetually `inexperienced' while an instructor pilot in the Intermediate Strike [jet fighter] Program."
Bowen wrote that putting pilots with helicopter or maritime experience in the fighter jet curriculum, "is to match `inexperienced aviators' with `inexperienced student Naval aviators.' The operational environment is unforgiving when out of control flight or other emergency situations develop."
Navy spokesman Lieutenant Patrick Moore said 57 percent of the current T-2 Buckeye instructor pilots did not come up through the ranks as jet fighter pilots. However, he said, under Navy regulations, they receive 41 weeks of jet training before becoming instructors.
Murrell had only 11 weeks of training.
Bowen's report stated that the practice of having non-jet pilots be jet instructors should be stopped. The second investigation made no such recommendation.
"I found out in January of 1993 that they were re-doing the report," Bowen said. "I got a copy of Bernier's report in July. When I read it, I should not have been surprised, but I was outraged. When the Navy chief of training faulted the student, I found that to be extravagant. That is like me saying the mishap was due to Murrell's misconduct. It just shows how completely insensitive Navy leadership is to this."
Had the Navy handled Bowen's report normally, it would have been sent up the chain of command for approval and criticism. Superior officers would have been required to respond to Bowen's charges and say why they had allowed someone who was not fully prepared to become a jet pilot. The report might have caused the Navy to delve into the underlying causes of the crash, making systemic changes where needed and disciplining the commanders who were responsible.
Trained on cargo flights
Murrell was a skilled, careful pilot who came up through the propeller-driven maritime ranks. At the time of his death, he had accumulated more than 4,200 hours of Navy flight time since he began flying in 1968. During his career, largely spent delivering cargo, Murrell had a distinguished record of more than 400 carrier landings. He never had had an accident, nor was he cited for a flight violation.
Bowen was unable to say in his report, or in a series of recent interviews at his home in Southern California, who was responsible for allowing Murrell to start flying jets without the training that is required under Navy regulations.
What is clear is that Murrell "bypassed all the checks and balances in the system," Bowen said. There were two chances for Murrell to get experience in the T-2C and in both cases he did not. As a result, his commanders never learned of Murrell's aversion to high performance jet flight, and he was not trained to master the Buckeye's problem-ridden ejection system.
Had Murrell received the normal amount of jet instruction, he would have had about 90 hours in the T-2C Buckeye and 100 hours in another type of jet trainer. In an interview, Bowen said that such training would either have exposed Murrell's weaknesses or given him the experience learned from aviators who had spent their careers in jet fighters.
After getting 550 hours in a jet air transport from 1989 to 1991, Murrell went to the Naval Air Station in Beeville, Texas, in August 1991 with the assignment as a jet flight instructor. It was a disappointment to him, as he had been hoping he would be stationed at Pensacola, where his wife and two children lived, to fly cargo flights.
Lieutenant William Francisco flew instructor-under-training flights with Murrell at Beeville and had immediate reservations: Even flights with sudden dips and turns seemed to bother Murrell.
"I explained to him that the T-2C Buckeye syllabus involves some serious `yank and bank' and overhead flying [aerobatics]," Francisco told investigators. On one flight, Francisco made the plane go nose down, which created the same negative gravity environment that made Murrell float out of his seat. "Once on the ground I could tell he didn't enjoy the unusual attitudes I had given him, and he was a little upset," Francisco said.
"I have the feeling that the Navy put Murrell way over his head by sending him to be an instructor in Intermediate Strike. The flight we had together was good, but he did not want to be there." Francisco said.
When Beeville was closed, Murrell was transferred in April 1992 to Meridian Naval Air Station in Mississippi. He was closer to Pensacola, but he was still training jet fighter pilots. Many at Meridian knew of Murrell's dislike for aerobatic flying. In one briefing, Murrell told Lieutenant Patrick M. Timothy that he hated the flight they were about to take, known as FAM-12, or the 12th in a series of student familiarization flights.
"I thought that this was a `different' attitude for a `jet pilot,'," Timothy told investigators. "On FAM-12, you are getting to do all the `good stuff.' FAM-12 is only one of a couple of flights where you get to go `upside-down.'"
Wing-over ended in dive
On the morning of July 22, the two climbed into the two-seat twin engine jet. Wolthers sat in front; Murrell was in the rear.
The flight took off at 7:46 a.m. When they reached the practice area, they attempted a wing-over, which did not go well. It is not known who was flying. Bowen, however, said it is likely that Wolthers first tried the maneuver, and that Murrell then took the controls to demonstrate the proper technique.
Suddenly, something went very wrong.
Bowen believes that the elevator trim motor, which moves the tail section to control the plane's pitch, malfunctioned, forcing the plane to dive. When the nose dropped, the cockpit experienced negative gravity, raising Murrell out of his seat because his lap belt was not tight. In the preflight check list of the Buckeye, there was nothing directing pilots to check lap belts. They were only to make sure harnesses were secure. [Editor: retire the T-2C! Its too old!]
Both Bowen's investigation and Bernier's agreed that because of his loose belt, Murrell was floating up against the canopy, unable to reach either the upper or lower ejection handles.
Over the next 30 seconds, the plane's rate of descent increased, according to radar. At 8:17 Murrell radioed: "Mayday, mayday, mayday." His distress call came nearly half a minute after the plane began its rapid descent, falling from 4,500 feet per minute to 9,000 feet per minute.
Had he initiated ejection, the plane would have automatically sent a radio distress call.
"Murrell has already lost control of an aircraft and the situation," Bowen wrote in his report of this moment. "Under duress, he has already started to `waste' valuable time by making a completely unnecessary distress call. This can only be regarded as a reversion to emergency procedures which are more familiar to him, which are transport aircraft in distress procedures. Trouble is, he is not in a transport aircraft."
The plane was upside-down, now plummeting in a spiral at 11,000 feet per minute, with its nose at a 50 degree angle. The plane passed through 7,000 feet, the minimum safe ejection altitude for out-of-control flights, but Murrell was still unable to pull either ejection handle. So he called out, "Eject, eject" 19 seconds after his distress call.
Wolthers responded: "See ya, Sir."
In her training, including simulator flights, Wolthers had been able to eject from the plane. But this time, when she tried to eject nothing happened: A control mechanism made Murrell's cockpit the only one to initiate ejection. Both investigations found she had not been trained to first switch the control mechanism to her cockpit and then eject.
Murrell was finally able to pull the upper ejection handle, but it was much too late. Both fliers, upside-down, were rocketed towards the ground, parachutes unopened. They died instantly.
Murrell had been a jet instructor for eight months. Wolthers had 20 hours of flight time in the T-2C.
Dan Wolthers, Terri's father, remembers his daughter as someone who wanted desperately to be a Navy jet fighter pilot. [Editor: the kind of existentialism for self-esteem we do not need in our military]
He recently recalled how she called him after flying solo in a propeller Navy training plane for the first time. "I said, `Honey, were you scared?' and she said, `I didn't even think about it until I got up there and leveled off and thought: Wow! The Navy trusts me with this $2 million airplane.'
"I guess maybe she should not have trusted the Navy."
Stephen Kurkjian of the Globe Staff contributed to this report.
THIS mARINE PROWLER CREW WASN'T SO LUCKY
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4 killed in latest military air crash
YUMA, Ariz. (AP)
A marine electronic-warfare plane crashed in the desert Friday, killing all four people aboard in the third military aircraft accident in two days.
The EA-6B Prowler, designed to jam enemy communications, went down at midmorning during a training mission with another Prowler on a gunnery range near the Gila Mountains, about 40 miles east of the marine corps Air Station at Yuma.
The crew of the second Prowler witnessed the crash, which happened in fair weather, Col. Craig Turner said. The cause was under investigation.
The victims' names were not immediately released. The crew was from the marine base at Cherry Point, N.C., and was training at Yuma.
Prowler planes were used during the Persian Gulf war in 1991. Friday's crash was the third involving a Prowler since 1992.
On Thursday, a National Guard A-10 warplane crashed in a marsh on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and a marine F/A-18 fighter went down in the Atlantic off Ocean City, Md. Both accidents happened in clear weather.
The body of the A-10 pilot, Maj. Michael J. Griffin, 39, of Sellersville, Pa., was found Friday. The pilot of the other single-seat plane, Patrick Gregoire, 40, of Portland, Ore., was missing at sea and presumed dead.
Griffin, who joined the Air Force in 1979, was a Gulf War veteran and had more than 600 hours experience flying the A-10, said Maj. Chris Cleaver, a Pennsylvania National Guard spokesman. The plane had not been flown since February, Cleaver said.
Gregoire joined the marines in 1976 and became a reserve in 1986. He also had been a commercial pilot for American Airlines.
After the crash Saturday of a C-130 cargo plane in Wyoming that killed all nine people on board, and three other military crashes in the past month, the Air Force earlier this week halted one-quarter of its routine training fights to review safety procedures.