So many aspects of this fact pattern puzzle me greatly... Were there any indicators overlooked during the preflight checks and engine run-up given the gamut of emotions likely running through the pilot's head before launching from a carrier deck? How did he manage to drop the plane into the water with the gear down and not send it into a deadly cartwheel? How much time did he have to react? What went through his brain the next time he sat on an aircraft carrier deck and pushed the throttle to the stops?
I am fascinated by warbirds, particularly from the World War II era. These planes are from a time when the United States was in dire need of a strategic advantage, and some of its most gifted citizens rose to the challenge to design marvels under extreme circumstances. When they rolled off the assembly lines, World War II aircraft were immediately thrust into battle, very commonly under the control of very young pilots new to the action (and often to flying itself). I find World War II aircraft fascinating not just because of the exterior beauty, but also because of the underlying stories created by matching such powerful machines with newly minted pilots in combat all over the world.
I first heard about the plans to recover the Wildcat from the depths of Lake Michigan sometime in November 2012 when I came across an article in an aviation forum describing the planned recovery efforts. Like many of the other recoveries that have taken place in the area over the years, I was quite interested, but didn't come across much other information and therefore moved on with my life. Less than a month later, thanks to a connection made through my flying club, Leading Edge Flying Club, I was on-hand to witness the final recovery procedures to pull the Wildcat from the water and place it on dry ground in preparation for a long journey to restoration.
Prior to my arrival at Larsen Marine in Waukegan Harbor, I expected that the planned ceremony would entail lifting the aircraft from a barge and placing it onto the dock (or something similar). To my astonishment, the majority of the aircraft was still submerged when I walked up.
The folks at A&T Recovery (masters of this sort of effort) had already pulled the empennage, which must have broken off upon impact, and the canopy from the water and both were sitting on a nearby pallet available for inspection. Everything else was still resting calmly in the same water that had been home for nearly seven decades.
What followed was a carefully orchestrated operation that involved a crane operator, several ground support staff and a diver in the water, all overseen by a supervisor who played the part flawlessly. When it was time to begin, all onlookers were politely (yet forcefully) asked to step back. No one wanted to be asked to leave for being out of place, so the rules were most definitely adhered to.
The actual lifting of the aircraft from the water came in several stages, each angled straight up and a little towards the shore. The first stage involved slowly lifting the airplane a little at a time to allow water to drain naturally. The diver was in place to provide coverage from all angles; I did notice that the diver had a GoPro camera mounted on top of his head to ensure the unique in-water perspective would be viewable at a later date. Separately, several ground crew members held ropes attached to each wing - effectively acting as a human rudder for the Wildcat as she climbed higher and higher out of the water.
Once the one remaining wheel was safely above the dock elevation, the crane pivoted to move the aircraft into position over a tarp. Laying the aircraft down onto the tarp looked like it would be extremely difficult given that airplane would be resting on a wheel, a wing and a point about halfway towards what would be the empennage on a fully intact airplane. The A&T team seems to thrive in such situations and had the plane down on well-placed blocks in a matter of minutes. Ironically enough, there was still air in the one tire that remained!
After a brief inspection by a representative from the Illinois Emergency Management Agency determined that no radon gas from the original instruments was being exposed to the air, many others and I were given a green light to walk around and explore the airplane. We were given close proximity access to an aircraft that had not seen the light of day for over two of my lifetimes. It was really difficult to believe that I was actually there experiencing such an event.
Here is a brief video I threw together in hopes of sharing some of the experience...
From what I understand, the Wildcat is destined for a non-flying restoration in Pensacola, Florida that will take many years. The hope is that it will one day be returned to Glenview, Illinois and reside at the Hangar One Foundation's museum as an important piece of the local region's participation in World War II. If things progress as intended, I will be proud to know that I was part of an important chapter to the growing story of this particular fighter.
