Showing how it’s done
Tagging along with the RCAF on a training exercise with an unexpected twist
I’m not sure exactly how hard it is to hit a small orange X by shoving a hefty bundle of supplies out of a circling airplane, but I can imagine it is not easy. So, I was still impressed as I watched that bundle crash through some trees a couple of hundred metres from its intended target. “They’re learning,” remarked Major Vincent Meunier as we watched the CC-130 Hercules that had made the drop regain altitude and soar off into the distance. Meunier is an instructor with RCAF 426 Squadron, based in Trenton, Ont. It’s a training school for pilots and other disciplines who work with the Air Force’s Hercules aircraft. On that particular day, Meunier had given me a tour of the aircraft, which routinely visits Summerside Airport in Slemon Park. I wanted to know why the Hercules was such a frequent visitor to Summerside and the Air Force was good enough to offer me a front row seat. Literally. I sat in the pilot’s chair. Meunier explained the training exercises 426 Squadron was here to take part in. That afternoon Meunier and I drove up to Victoria West, to a small field adjacent to Brian and Mary Whitehead’s home. Brian is from Quebec but retired from the RCAF in 1994 and he and Mary settled on P.E.I. They stayed connected to the Air Force though and when they were approached to host some training exercises on their land, they didn’t hesitate. It’s a way to stay in touch with an organization that means a great deal to them, explained Brian, and they get a thrill watching and helping out a bit with the training. “It’s wonderful. Oh yes, we really enjoy it. We get to meet the guys year after year,” said Brian. Meunier told me that every time the squadron comes to Summerside they’re made to feel at home. This being a former air base community, there are a lot of retired RCAF members here, he said, and many stay in touch and offer support where they can. In Brian’s case that support included helping Meunier and the drop zone controller, Cpl. Steeve Bedard, fish the dropped bundle of supplies out of a stand of trees bordering one side of the field.
Bedard explained that the Hercules crew were playing out a training scenario in which a small aircraft had become lost and eventually crashed. For them, Step 1 was locating the crash, Step 2 was trying to make contact with potential survivors and Step 3 would involve search and rescue technicians parachuting to the crash site. To make contact with the “crash” survivors, the Hercules made a low pass over the site, which was marked by two bright orange strips laid in an X, and dropped a small package containing a radio. Bedard made contact with the aircraft crew, apprised them that we were OK and generally played along with the scenario. It was shortly after this that the larger toboggan-looking bundle of equipment was dropped. It was full of equipment and supplies the search and rescue technicians could use. It was also attached to a parachute by a surprisingly long cord, which, I was told, was so that the supplies would hit the ground even if the parachute got stuck in a tree. As my hosts recovered the equipment, the Hercules crew continued to circle overhead and periodically dropped what were essentially brightly coloured party streamers. The strips of paper, I was told, were used to help the crew aim their drops. At that point there was some concern that it might be too windy for the search and rescue technicians to jump. The plane made many passes over the site as the air and ground teams decided what to do. Eventually the technicians got a green light and the first technician jumped from the aircraft’s rear hatch. A few minutes after he landed, a second man jumped. Both landed without incident, close to the X. This is where my recounting gets a bit singed. You see, when the parachuters land, they fire three flares to let the aircraft crew know they made it down without issue. I’m not sure if it was a spark from one of the flares or just the heat from an expended shell casing – but a small grass fire sprang up. We didn’t notice it as first as most of us had all turned in the other direction to watch the second jumper. Unfortunately it didn’t take long for the small fire to spread quickly, whipped on by the strong breeze. We tried stomping it out, we tore up the X and used the material to try and smother, it and at one point someone came running with a garden hose. None of it did any good. The fire spread like an ink stain, heading off in every direction at the same time, fast. In moments the fire got into the woods on one side of the field, uncomfortably close to the Whitehead’s home. By that time Mary had used my cellphone to call 911. Neighbours, some on the fire department, some not, started showing up. They used shovels and rakes to try and put out the fire still spreading across the field. When the first pumper truck from the Tyne Valley Fire Department arrived, its crew went to work putting out the fire in the woods while the grass fire in the field had mostly burned itself out. In the end, there was no real harm done beyond a few frayed nerves. The Whitehead’s field and woods got a little singed but no one was hurt and no property was damaged. Brian wasn’t even mad. As the fire truck was leaving, I saw him shake hands with the Air Force guys and tell them, with a grin, to relax. By the time the firefighters left, the Hercules had long since returned to base. When we parted ways in Summerside, I shook Meunier’s hand and thanked him for the tour. He thanked me for showing an interest and said it was too bad we got side-tracked by the fire Blaze aside, it was an illuminating day. I won’t have to wonder quite so much now the next time I see a Hercules buzzing around Prince County.