Army Concealed Fatal Black Hawk Flaw, NTSB Investigation Reveals

Paul Riverbank, 7/31/2025Troubling NTSB findings reveal the Army's Black Hawk helicopters operated with known altitude measurement flaws prior to January's fatal collision with a commercial airliner. The military's delayed response to address these critical safety issues raises serious questions about oversight and modernization of aging military aircraft systems.

The Military's Dangerous Secret: How Known Altitude Errors Led to Tragedy

In what could only be described as a devastating oversight, military officials knew about potentially lethal altitude measurement problems in their Black Hawk helicopters but chose not to warn pilots. This revelation, emerging from recent National Transportation Safety Board hearings, casts a dark shadow over January's catastrophic collision between an Army helicopter and a commercial airliner.

I've covered military aviation for two decades, and this stands out as particularly troubling. The Army's own testing showed their Black Hawks could be off by up to 130 feet in altitude readings – imagine driving blindfolded and being told you're "somewhere" on the highway. That's essentially what these pilots faced.

"We haven't found a record about whether to include or exclude that information," mumbled Steve Braddom, an Army aviation official, when pressed about the missing warnings in pilot manuals. This bureaucratic hand-waving doesn't just fail to explain – it amplifies concerns about institutional complacency.

The aging UH-60L "Lima" Black Hawks, workhorses since the late '80s, rely on analog systems that even Army engineers privately doubt. "If I were king for a day, I would replace them," admitted Scott Rosengren, an Army aviation engineer, in what might be the understatement of the year.

Here's what should keep us up at night: Nearly half of the helicopter flights along the crash route exceeded altitude limits. We're talking about 523 flights between January 2024 and January 2025, with some brazenly pushing well above the 200-foot ceiling. This wasn't just one bad day – it's a pattern of systemic disregard for safety protocols.

The Army's response? Window dressing. Yes, they're now checking ADS-B systems before flights and keeping cockpit windows open during critical phases. But these Band-Aid solutions ignore the hemorrhaging wound: aging aircraft with known defects still fill our skies.

The 12th Aviation Battalion faces a 2026 modernization deadline, but that's cold comfort for today's pilots and the public they fly over. As our skies get more crowded, we can't afford to wait for the next tragedy to take these issues seriously.

This isn't just about military versus civilian aviation – it's about leadership's responsibility to protect both their personnel and the public. When officials know about life-threatening equipment issues but choose bureaucratic silence, they're not just failing their duty – they're gambling with lives.

The NTSB hearings continue, but one thing's already clear: The gap between what military officials knew and what they did about it is wider than any altitude discrepancy their helicopters might show.

The Military's Dangerous Secret: How Known Altitude Errors Led to TragedyIn what could only be described as a devastating oversight, military officials knew about potentially lethal altitude measurement problems in their Black Hawk helicopters but chose not to warn pilots. This revelation, emerging from recent National Transportation Safety Board hearings, casts a dark shadow over January's catastrophic collision between an Army helicopter and a commercial airliner.I've covered military aviation for two decades, and this stands out as particularly troubling. The Army's own testing showed their Black Hawks could be off by up to 130 feet in altitude readings – imagine driving blindfolded and being told you're "somewhere" on the highway. That's essentially what these pilots faced."We haven't found a record about whether to include or exclude that information," mumbled Steve Braddom, an Army aviation official, when pressed about the missing warnings in pilot manuals. This bureaucratic hand-waving doesn't just fail to explain – it amplifies concerns about institutional complacency.The aging UH-60L "Lima" Black Hawks, workhorses since the late '80s, rely on analog systems that even Army engineers privately doubt. "If I were king for a day, I would replace them," admitted Scott Rosengren, an Army aviation engineer, in what might be the understatement of the year.Here's what should keep us up at night: Nearly half of the helicopter flights along the crash route exceeded altitude limits. We're talking about 523 flights between January 2024 and January 2025, with some brazenly pushing well above the 200-foot ceiling. This wasn't just one bad day – it's a pattern of systemic disregard for safety protocols.The Army's response? Window dressing. Yes, they're now checking ADS-B systems before flights and keeping cockpit windows open during critical phases. But these Band-Aid solutions ignore the hemorrhaging wound: aging aircraft with known defects still fill our skies.The 12th Aviation Battalion faces a 2026 modernization deadline, but that's cold comfort for today's pilots and the public they fly over. As our skies get more crowded, we can't afford to wait for the next tragedy to take these issues seriously.This isn't just about military versus civilian aviation – it's about leadership's responsibility to protect both their personnel and the public. When officials know about life-threatening equipment issues but choose bureaucratic silence, they're not just failing their duty – they're gambling with lives.The NTSB hearings continue, but one thing's already clear: The gap between what military officials knew and what they did about it is wider than any altitude discrepancy their helicopters might show.