Gruber Amazing Aviation Stories, Volume 1

My Adventures
1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-3-8192-7284-4
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 246 Seiten

Reihe: Amazing Aviation Stories

In a series of entertaining stories, Gerhard Gruber shares insights from his 55 years in aviation. Not only are they filled with humor, but they're also informative and written in a way that's easy to understand, even for readers with no background in aviation. Some stories are almost too unbelievable, if it weren't for the photos to prove them true. Whether it's the odd tale of a lost control tower cabin on a country road or behind-the-scenes moments at the airport, each account offers captivating insights into aviation and the glamorous world of the jet set, where luxury, fame, and global adventure are part of daily life.

Gerhard Gruber devoted his life to aviation from a young age. He worked at Vienna International Airport for 45 years, serving 30 of those as Manager Airport and Rescue Operations. At the same time, he logged over 10,000 flight hours in gliders, as an airline pilot, chief pilot, and senior examiner. As a captain, he flew not only world-famous entertainers like Phil Collins, Luciano Pavarotti, and Sean Connery, but also many members of the Austrian government, including Franz Vranitzky, Viktor Klima, Thomas Klestil, Heinz Fischer, and others. Highlights of his career include a round-the-world flight for Red Bull with Dietrich Mateschitz and organizing the airshow celebrating 100 Years of Aviation in Fischamend. Gerhard Gruber is highly regarded not just for his exceptional technical knowledge, but also for his many conference talks held across nearly every continent. His lasting contribution includes authoring a manual on airport ground markings that is in use at over 4,000 airports worldwide. In 1995, he received international recognition for inventing a system that helps locate crashed aircraft in poor visibility. His experience spans from being Austria's youngest flight instructor to serving as an expert witness for courts and accident investigations. Since 1977, he has continuously worked as an instructor and examiner on flight simulators both in Austria and abroad. There are likely only a few people in the world with such a broad and deep aviation background.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Gruber, Gerhard

Leseproben

Chapter 1 - The Early Days

1. Doubts About my Fitness to Fly

Even as a child, aviation was the only thing that mattered to me. The typical childhood career dreams like becoming a firefighter or police officer were never of interest to me. I was fascinated by flying birds and would run after my model airplanes with great enthusiasm. Even on car trips through Austria, my parents had to stop at every airfield so I could take in a few impressions.

The dream of becoming a pilot felt like a utopia at the time. It was in June 1964, on the last day of fourth grade, when our teacher asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. When I said “pilot”, the entire class burst into loud laughter at such an unrealistic goal.

My father was also aware of my ambitions, and during a visit to the Prater, he came up with the bizarre idea of testing my flight suitability with the Sturmboot (storm boat). It was a giant swing for around 30 people, located at the eastern end of the Prater. You can still see the ride today, although it is clearly no longer in operation.

My father said: “If you want to become a pilot, you’ll have to be able to handle this.”

Although I was a fearful teenager, I knew that if I didn’t pass this “pilot test”, I’d have no chance in aviation. So I thought: get in the Sturmboot, grit your teeth, and push through.

At first, it was a gentle rocking motion, but soon the swings became violent and intense. It tilted 90° in one direction and then 90° in the other. At the highest point, you would slightly lift off the seat before plummeting down in free fall and being pressed back into the seat.

It didn’t take long before I started feeling nauseous. But failure in this “pilot test” was out of the question. So I closed my eyes, sank into the seat, and waited for the ordeal to be over.

I sat pale and lethargic in the seat, and I didn’t even react to my father’s attempts to shake me awake. The other passengers noticed this, shouted down, and demanded an emergency stop. Embarrassed, we left the Sturmboot, which restarted with the remaining passengers. What followed was a scolding of my father that lasted several minutes, ending with the remark: “You’ll never become a pilot.”

Undeterred, I began my training as a glider pilot on September 19, 1970.

In the first few weeks, I briefly had doubts about my fitness to fly. It was a day with good thermals, and my flight instructor Josef Fischer showed me how to gain altitude by circling. He normally only flew with students in the traffic pattern and was thrilled to do something different for a change. We circled to the left, then to the right, flew straight for a bit, and continued like that for about an hour.

Had I been flying myself, it probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but as a passive observer it didn’t take long before a queasy feeling came over me. Regretfully, I asked for an early landing.

It soon became clear that these two experiences were not representative of my flying career.

In 1976, I earned the aerobatics rating for both gliders and powered aircraft, and starting in 1978 I was even a flight instructor for powered aerobatics.

I have never felt sick again to this day.

Story #3: Vöslau Airfield in 1970, the beginning of my Glider Training (far left). On the far right is Ewald Kreuzinger, who also made it to an Airlinepilot Story #3: Restringing a Grunau Baby with Josef Klingelmayer

2. The Pot of Luck and the Pot of Experience

It is said that at the beginning of a pilot’s career, one receives a full pot of luck and an empty pot of experience. The goal is to fill the experience pot before the luck pot runs empty.

So far I can say — I managed. Sometimes only just barely, but I did. Many of my flying comrades weren’t so lucky.

My first terrible experience happened already on October 11, 1970, just a few weeks after the start of my glider training at Vöslau airfield.

My comrade Kurt Gebauer wanted to do five short traffic pattern flights with his SF-26 to extend his glider license. I was his launch assistant and helped him get in and hook up the tow cable.

The first three flights, each about 4 minutes long, went smoothly. On the fourth approach, he made an awkward maneuver, lost airspeed, and crashed right before my eyes. He was dead instantly.

Especially in the early days of my flying, the quality of training and the official oversight were far below today’s standards.

Since 1970, 41 of my friends or close acquaintances have died. The majority of them because of disregarding regulations or carelessness. Only one of those 41 deaths was due to a technical failure.

It was always shocking, of course, but in a way also almost “normal” to walk behind a coffin several times a year.

One would console oneself with the words: “He died a pilot’s death.”

In my 54 years as a pilot, I have sometimes been very lucky. The most striking experiences I have recorded in this book.

Story #2: The Crash of Kurt Gebauer on October 11, 1970 at Vöslau Airfield Story #2: The saddest Photo in my Collection. All of them were close Friends, and each one died in a separate Crash. From left to right: Hans Osel (October 25, 1981 in Trausdorf), Karl Scherz (August 19, 1984 near Dornbirn), and Gernot Sommeregger (October 23, 1976 near Mürzzuschlag).

3. Financing the Glider License

After a few years of flying model planes, I had a clear goal: I wanted my glider license. One big hurdle on the way to becoming a glider pilot was getting my parents’ approval. Since I was underage, I needed their signature — and they made it conditional on good school grades. Mine were never particularly great, but in the summer of 1970 they were just good enough to get the signature I had dreamed of for so long.

Luckily, I only lived twenty minutes from the Vöslau Kottingbrunn airfield by bike. When I turned sixteen, I got an old one seat moped, a Puch MS VS 50 D— known as the postman’s moped. That made the trip even quicker.

A much bigger problem was money.

My mother was a housewife, and my father was the sole earner, working for the Vienna Local Railway. I didn’t get any allowance and, as a student, had no income. What I did have, though, was a big extended family full of uncles, aunts, grandmas and grandpas — and they had plenty of birthdays and name days to celebrate. On average, I’d get 10 Schillings for congratulating someone — about 71 cents. That was exactly the price of a winch launch.

Like most teenagers back then, I tried smoking. A pack of cigarettes cost the same as a winch launch. That made the decision easy — after the first pack, I was done. I’ve never smoked again.

A surprisingly steady source of money was selling my school sandwiches at technical school. Depending on the filling, each one earned me 5 to 8 Schillings. My mother was incredibly proud that I always ate everything and still came home hungry. I can still hear her voice: “You’re such a good eater — you’ll be someone one day.”

The real jackpot came from playing the accordion at local events and wine taverns. I started learning at twelve, and four years later it was enough to earn a little cash. My hit “Stellts meine Ross in Stall” always brought the most coins into the tip bowl.

There was another way to support my flying lessons: helping out at the gliding club. Work meant discounts on flight fees. And there was always something to do, especially in winter, when the gliders were overhauled in the workshop. There was always something to paint, cover, sand or fix.

There was also work at the airfield itself. In 1973, for example, we built a new front section on the old bunker to make more room for aircraft. That building is still there today — it’s now home to the Austrian Aviation Museum.

Story #3: Playing the Accordion was one of the Financial Foundations for my Glider Training

4. A Face-To-Face with Death

It was spring 1973, one of the first fog-free days of the year when flying was finally possible again. My friend Willi and I met at the Vöslau airfield for a flight together. Willi already had his private pilot license and was just as eager for sunshine as I was. The sky was about 75 percent covered with clouds, but through the holes we could see the blue sky above. We decided to climb through one of those openings to finally soak up some sun.

Willi had booked the Cessna C150, registration OE AVS. Since I only had a license for motor gliders, I was allowed to fly along in the right seat as a passenger. After takeoff we headed toward Berndorf, found a gap in the clouds and began climbing with full power. Unfortunately, we had completely overestimated the climbing performance of the C150. Within seconds we were inside the clouds.

And that brought several serious problems. The aircraft was not equipped for instrument flight, and neither of us had experience flying in clouds. Without instruments like an artificial horizon, you quickly lose your sense of orientation, fall for illusions, lose control — and according to long-term statistics, it takes 178 seconds before you’re dead. That’s how long it takes either to crash into the ground or for the aircraft to break apart under extreme stress.

We were well on our way to becoming part of...