As a support helicopter pilot we didn’t often get to fire air to ground weapons; we did carry personal weapons on “Ops” but we also carried a machine gun on a frame in the cabin which could be swung out and fired through the open door by the crewman. However, we always carried a Verey pistol and coloured cartridges for signalling purposes. We used to have to practice total electrics failure at night. This was a tricky exercise because the aircraft had lost all stability and tended to wallow all over the sky, so the pilot could do little else except try to keep the aircraft under control, using both hands and feet.
All internal and external lighting, intercom and radios were lost so there was a drill where the pilot would position the aircraft over the landing airfield at 1,000 feet, using a torch to look at the instruments. The crewman was supposed to come forward with the Verey pistol unloaded but with a red flare in his hand, which he had to show to the pilot (we also carried green and yellow flares). He was supposed to stay up front until the pilot gave the signal to go down the back, load the pistol, slide open the cabin door and fire the red flare downwards. The idea that ATC would see the red flare (aircraft in distress) and hopefully fire a green flare or shine a green light in response, which meant that the aircraft was cleared to land.
The door could only be opened below 60 kts but we cruised at about 140 kts. Puma cabin door runners were delicate and doors had been known to come off if abused, which could result in it going through the tail rotor, causing loss of control. The RAF had very recently lost a Puma aircraft due to this very problem, killing all on board so it was in everyone’s mind. The procedure obviously needed careful co-ordination and the drills were meant to be known by heart by all crew members.
During my initial night flying training in a Puma helicopter over Salisbury Plain, around midnight in the summer of 1979, my instructor briefed us that we were going to practice the emergency. On our return to Upavon he deliberately failed both generators. He then turned off all the lights; I then had to get my torch out to look at the instruments so I could begin to slow the aircraft down whilst positioning to the overhead of Upavon airfield. To my huge surprise (read shock!), as soon as I switched on my torch (still doing about 120 kts at only 500 feet over the village of Netheravon, a few miles to the south of Upavon airfield), there was a sudden “Whoosh”, an inrush of air then a loud “BANG!” followed by the aircraft being lit up in a bright red light… I honestly thought my time had come…so did my instructor!
The trainee crewman had got it all wrong and obviously had paid no attention to the brief. As soon as he realised the instructor was simulating electrical failure, instead of coming up front as he was supposed to do, he took out the Verey pistol, loaded it with a red flare and sat by the cabin door. As soon as I switched on my torch, he took that to be a signal to open the door and fire the flare!
Apparently because we were a lot less than 1,000 feet the red flare was still burning brightly as it hit the ground. It landed on the main road through Netheravon and bounced a few times, going north. Thankfully it didn’t set anything alight or hit anyone but it was spotted by the local police who were obviously rather keen to find out what the hell was going on. The crewman was subsequently given a very severe talking to!