No Way to Get Promoted
John Anderson is a retired Navy commander who lives in Los Gatos, Calif., with his wife, June. His hobby is visiting Moffett Field, where he likes to watch the airplanes bounce.

On July 18, 1952, a Martin Mariner PBM5A departed the Naval Air Station at Agana, Guam. This amphibious plane was on an operational flight to Koror Island. I was piloting the plane, with Lt. Cmdr. Ken Wheeler as copilot. Counting the crew there were 15 people aboard, including a Navy captain, the chief of staff for the Commander, U.S. Naval Forces Marianas (ComNavMarianas), who was no small potatoes.

Our takeoff was uneventful. We were well into the flight, cruising at 8,000 feet and enjoying our first cup of coffee, when the flight engineer reported an oil leak from the port engine. When you have only two engines, there is nothing like a serious engine oil leak out in the middle of the ocean to spoil a pilot's day. We elected to turn back to Guam, some 200 miles away, and sent an emergency report to Guam control.

A few minutes later, the oil flow increased in intensity, and black smoke began pouring from the engine. Because there was a fire hazard, we feathered the engine. The flying amphibian was now trying to stay in the sky with only one engine.

The aircraft began to lose altitude slowly. We jettisoned the bomb-bay tanks, dumped 250 gallons of fuel, and gathered up all the loose gear. Guam control told us that a Sea Air Rescue (SAR) plane from Anderson Air Force Base on Guam was on its way.

A slow rate of descent was maintained with the airspeed hovering above stall speed at some 100 knots. Buffeting was rather severe, but directional control was maintained. In an attempt to hold altitude, more fuel was jettisoned, and at about 700 feet the aerial cameras and even some personal luggage were thrown overboard.

We estimated about one hour and 20 minutes back to Guam. The SAR aircraft had appeared and was flying overhead. We ordered the crew and passengers to assume ditching positions, and the copilot lowered the wing flaps in preparation for touchdown. A landing on the open sea could be disastrous.

The aircraft hit a wave crest hard, then bounced. To our astonishment, we found ourselves once again airborne. At full throttle and 10 degrees of flaps, we were climbing slowly at about 85 knots airspeed. When we reached 700 feet, power was reduced slightly and altitude was maintained.

The SAR aircraft reported our position at about 100 miles from Guam. We arrived in Apra Harbor and made a normal single-engine seaplane landing in the water - just as a slight oil leak started on the good engine.

After the passengers quit kissing the ground, a debriefing on the incident determined that it had to have been one of the longest landing bounces - more than 100 miles since initial touchdown - ever made. An inventory of the aircraft also revealed that the crew had thrown out all of the officers' personal luggage, including that of the Navy captain, while retaining their own!

The moral of the story: If you have to jettison personal luggage, make sure it doesn't belong to the naval chief of staff for ComNavMarianas. That's no way to get promoted.