Solo – Strawberry Fields

When you are in a plane dropping from the sky without a running engine, you really don’t care “why.” Your survival instincts kick in. Survival for me was “a miracle.” “God help me.” “I will do anything you want.” I remember both of these sentences vividly.

The trees parted over a two lane road below. At 9:30 AM on a holiday, I was fortunate. There were no cars to be seen on a long straight stretch. I don’t remember the name of the road. I knew I would never make the Bremerton airport. I had to touch down.

All landings are performed at idle. The main reason for landing at idle is for the ability to “add power” at the last moment in case of trouble. I had to do this once at Boeing Field when I got hit by a crosswind. “Student Pilot, going ‘round.” I was probably only fifty feet above the ground with my wings tilted vertical, pushing on the rudder, shifting the stick and hitting power. “Student Pilot, we didn’t think you were going to make it. Going around granted. Call on base,” came the shaky voice from the tower.

A secondary reason for landing on idle is for the very reason I was in now. No power and I’m going down. As I neared the road, I passed slowly over a single car heading in the same direction as me. It was at that moment I saw power lines on both sides of the road. I was probably at about 500 feet, but I wasn’t taking notes on my altitude. I was still descending. I saw a field to the left of the trees along the road. Just as I was approaching the tops of the trees, I saw my opening. God answered my prayers and I began a beautiful left hand turn between two sets of trees. I was at the north end of a field stretching for nearly a half mile.

The field was divided nicely in half by a barbed wire fence. In the south pasture was a herd of cattle. I needed to stop before the fence. Cattle don’t move fast, and besides, they were mesmerized by the unidentified flying object dropping like a rock into the “Strawberry Fields” to the north… their mouths agape much like my children’s when they visited Central Park.

It was a perfect landing. The soil was soft with the new spring planting of strawberries. I gently plowed the middle of the poor farmer’s field as I lightly touched down. The rear wheels of the tricycle landing gear sinking into the soft soil slowed me down quickly and I nosed the front gear down, but it collapsed.

It was like being in a slow motion movie. Dirt began spraying the windshield as the nose of the plane and the misplaced prop dug deeper. The windshield shattered. The agonizing slowness of the plane arching vertical and then crashing to its back took forever.

I found myself hanging upside down in the plane. It was dead. It had stopped. I was alive! Wait! Shit! I have to get out of the plane before it explodes! I grabbed the seatbelt release and dropped the 18 inches solidly onto my head. Reaching for the door, I pushed. It opened and I crawled out onto the wing. I didn’t see smoke or smell gas. I began kicking the side of the plane. “F#&@! F#&@! F#&@!,” I shouted and kicked until my right foot hurt.

It was only then that I noticed “Clem” (I don’t recall his name) running toward me from the far side of the “Strawberry Field.” He had a shotgun and was yelling “you F’ER – I am going to kill you! You guys keep doing this to me!" (as if a plane crashes into his field everyday). "I have to make it this year or I am going to lose everything!”

(to be continued)

- Craig