The eye of the storm

A radar altimeter and a radio altimeter would direct radar pulses or radio waves to the surface below. They automatically calculate the distance above the water.

The radio altimeter can be read on a screen by one of the metro's assistants. The screen is black and the altitude reading is seen on it as a green line that wiggles as the plane bounces or changes altitude. You can understand why this altimeter is called the "green worm."

When the plane got close to the storm, the pilot ordered everyone to fasten their seatbelt. All crewmen were to put on their life vests. Everything on the plane was tied down so the men would not be injured by objects flying about inside the plane as the flight got rougher. As the turbulence increased, the men in the pilot's area had to work harder to keep the plane steady and on its course.

Eventually, the space between two cloud bands disappeared and it was necessary to drop down under the clouds to keep the water below in sight. The metro's bubble window was the only one of any used. Up front, the pilot and copilot could see only the heavy sheet of rain surging down over the windows. They guided the plane partially by reading the dials on their instruments, but mostly they were kept on the right course by the voice communication with the radar officer and the metro.

Every 30 seconds the pilot could hear the metro's assistant give a "green worm" altitude reading.

"Green worm, seven fifty" (indicating 750 feet above the water).

Then the radar man followed with, "Your heading is good; eye wall bearing zero three zero degrees, thirty miles ahead."

"Green worm, six hundred" and the pilot would let him know he had heard and understood:

"Roger."

Then from the navigator: "Drift two two degrees right."

At this point, the rain that surrounded them became so heavy that the radar officer told the pilot, "I've lost the picture. I no longer have the eye wall. Recommend metro take the conn." (Take conn means to take over telling the pilot which direction to turn.)

The metro's voice came through: "Roger, I have the conn."

The pilot said: "Roger, metro has the conn."

This was punctuated by: "Green worm five fifty."

By now, the pilot had turned the switch that allowed everyone on the plane to hear what was being said by those controlling and guiding the plane. Those men who had no duties to perform during this tense period when they were entering the eye felt more comfortable knowing what was going on.

"Green worm, five hundred."

"Roger."

"Increase power 100 rpm."

"Roger" from the flight engineer. "Power increased 100 rpm"

"Roger."

Flight metro recommends coming port two zero degrees, surface winds, two two zero degrees ninety-five knots.

"Green worm four fifty."

"Your escape heading is one zero zero degrees." This came from the navigator.

"Roger, one zero zero degrees."

The metro helped the pilot keep the plane headed directly into the center of the storm by seeing that the wind was always blowing straight in toward the plane on its left side. This is because the winds inside the storm blow in a counter clockwise direciton. If you could stand outside the eye, facing the center of the storm, the wind would always be blowing against your left side. Using this information, the metro could tell the pilot when they were drifting off course by watching the wind action on the water below.

"Metro has lost sight of the water. Drop down. Green worm, four hundred. I have surface contact now. Green worm, steady at four hundred."

Up front, the sounds of the engines were drowned out by the thunderous noise of the unbelievably heavy rainfall. the plane was tossed about as they flew just over the water. Since the pilot's chair is adjustable, it is not very steady, and it jiggled as the plane vibrated. So it was very difficult for the pilot to read the dials on the instrument panel. At one time or another, the motion caused some of the crew members to become air sick. Each of them had a plastic-lined paper bag close at hand. If a man got sick, he used the bag and then resumed his work. The voices continued over the intercom.

"Green worm, four hundred. Steady on flight. Surface winds two eight zero degrees at one hundred ten knots. Green worm, three seventy five. Roger, green worm."

Suddenly, the turbulence ceased. The plane had broken through the eye wall. The pilot could hear the engines again and see out the windows. The instrument panel was clearly readable. The plane was out of the rain. They were no longer in the storm, but they were surrounded by it. They were in the eye of the hurricane.

The men were aware of rivulets of perspiration that covered them. Their flight suits were made of a special flame-resistant material for safety's sake and were normally very warm to wear. But today, they were warmer than usual. Perhaps because of the tenseness they felt while coming under the eye wall of the storm.

The metro's job now changed. He no longer was needed for guiding the pilot under the clouds. Now he had to see that the weather information was collected accurately and sent back to the ground station.

Next, the plane flew back and forth across the center of the storm to find the spot of the lowest air pressure. This was also marked on the map and radioed back with other readings from the meteorological instruments.

They circled close to the eye wall, the bank of clouds that had presented such a challenge flying in. It was a boundary line between them and the wild winds of the hurricane. Looking below, the pilot could see under the bank of clouds, back into the turbulent area they had just come through. The surface of the water was frothy there, like whipped egg whites. Inside the eye, the water surface danced in small peaks.

There were almost always birds inside of the eye of the storm. Perhaps they were caught there and swept along with the storm, or maybe they were blown in before it became so severe. At any rate, they were not strong enough to escape. It they could have crossed the eye wall, the winds and hard rains on the other side would have destroyed them, so they just flew around in the eye. Sometimes they collided with airplanes there. It was impossible for the pilot to maneuver the plane as to miss them. He could only hope one wouldn't crash through the front windshield or damage an engine or tail section.

You might expect the crew to feel a lift in spirits, relieved at having the most dangerous part of the mission over, and they did feel the tension go as they performed routine tasks inside the eye. But they knew their orders called for leaving the eye and entering the storm a second time that day.

Because of the courage and dedication of these men, weather forecasters back on land would be able to give information to the public that could save many lives.