Monday, April 28
“Trans Global 801, cleared for takeoff, runway two-five right.”
“Roger, Trans Global 801, cleared for takeoff,” the first officer said.
Captain Kerri Sullivan pushed both throttles forward slightly to turn the massive Boeing 767 onto the darkened runway. The centerline lights were hard to see with the thick fog and only a quarter mile of visibility. Before takeoff, as usual, Kerri mentally reviewed her abort procedures in case of an emergency. She took a deep breath to focus her mind and body and smoothly pushed both throttles up to takeoff power. “Check thrust.”
“Thrust set,” the first officer said. Kerri pushed forward slightly on the yoke to keep the nose wheel on the centerline. She glanced at the two columns of engine instruments—all in the green. Excitement tingled through her as the giant engines increased to full power. No matter how many times she did this, the deep growl of the engines always thrilled her, as did the low vibration moving up from her feet through her chest as she accelerated down the runway.
“One hundred knots.” I’m in the high-speed regime now. The nose wheel steering became more sensitive as the plane quickly accelerated. The air noise increased, and she glanced at the engine instruments one more time—all good.
“V-one.” The first officer called out the go/no-go speed. Kerri moved her right hand from the throttles to the yoke, indicating she was now committed to the takeoff. Suddenly, the nose of the jet abruptly swerved to the right.
“Engine fail!” the first officer shouted. Kerri instinctively stepped on the left rudder pedal to bring the airplane back to the centerline. She slammed both throttles forward against the stop. “Rotate,” he called out.
No, not yet. Fly the jet, fly the jet. Stabilize it on the runway before you get into the air.
Kerri kept her left leg fully extended on the rudder pedal to counteract the yaw from the failed engine. In the dark fog, the dim centerline lights changed colors from white to red. I have only two thousand feet of runway left. Gently pulling back on the big yoke, she coaxed the crippled jet into the air. Only grayness lay in front of her. She looked down to the electronic attitude indicator and pulled the nose up to ten degrees of pitch. The aircraft, at maximum takeoff weight of three hundred and twenty thousand pounds, barely crept up into the air. Come on, baby. Climb for me.
After what felt like forever, she was finally one hundred feet above the ground. “Positive rate of climb. Gear up.” The first officer raised the wheel-shaped landing gear lever. Without the drag from the wheels, the jet climbed a tiny bit faster. Kerri looked at the altimeter—almost four hundred feet above the ground. “Pull for runway heading.” She would continue straight ahead over the shoreline into the dark night.
Her left leg shook from holding the rudder pedal full against the stop. She was climbing at only two hundred feet per minute, with the jet somewhat stabilized. Kerri brought her right hand down to the center console and felt for the unique shape of the rudder trim knob. Turning the knob to the left, she held it until the pressure on her left leg decreased. The altimeter read eight hundred feet above the ground. “Set clean maneuver speed.” The first officer rotated the airspeed knob to two hundred thirty knots. “Autopilot one is coming on,” Kerri announced.
With the autopilot helping her control the plane, she focused on analyzing what had happened. “What have we got?”
“We lost all oil quantity from the right engine,” the first officer said.
“Any indication of fire?”
“No.”
“Okay. No chance for a restart. Run the engine-shutdown checklist.” The airplane slowly accelerated. “Flaps up.”
Kerri focused like a laser beam as she reviewed the multiple tasks before her. She had to fly the jet and keep it stabilized, monitor the copilot while he ran the checklist, and make a plan to get this jet safely on the ground with only one engine. The weather was crappy back at Los Angeles, but it was no better at any other airport for several hundred miles. She had to try to land back at LA. Continuously, she mentally reprioritized all these tasks. Adrenaline raced through her, but she stayed calm and in control. She didn’t have time for fear. Her life, and the lives of her passengers and crew, depended on her.
“Tower, Trans Global 801 is declaring an emergency. We’ve lost an engine, and I need vectors back to LA for an instrument approach. Two hundred fifty-five souls on board.”
“Trans Global 801, copy your emergency. Turn left heading one-six-zero. Contact SoCal Approach on one-three-five-point-one-five. Emergency equipment will be standing by.”
“Trans Global 801, heading one-six-zero.” Kerri picked up the flight interphone and rang the cabin call button. She briefed the flight attendants on what was going on, made an announcement to the passengers, then called the company dispatch.
The fog in LA had improved slightly to one-half-mile visibility. Good enough to land, but just barely. “Bob, I’m going to fly the ILS precision approach to runway two-five left. This will be right to minimums, so I need you to back me up.” Kerri briefed the approach, set up the navigation equipment, and mentally reviewed the single-engine approach procedures. She’d informed everyone she needed to and completed all the checklists. Now she just had to land this beast. She took another deep breath. Landing the plane with only one engine in a dark, foggy night would be her last, and most difficult, task. She had absolutely no room for error.
“Trans Global 801 emergency, turn left heading two-eight-zero, maintain two thousand feet until established on the localizer, cleared for the ILS approach runway two-five left.”
“Trans Global 801 emergency, cleared for the approach,” the copilot said.
Kerri slowly pulled back the throttle on her one remaining engine. “Speed one-ninety, flaps to ten.” She kept her eyes glued to her attitude indicator and the flight-director bars. “Localizer capture,” she called as she turned the jet onto the final approach course. “Glide slope is alive. Gear down, flaps to twenty, set final approach speed.”
Kerri could no longer use the autopilot to help her fly the jet. As she descended into the darkness, she clicked the autopilot off. She would hand-fly this plane to a single-engine landing with only her skill and years of experience to count on. Small corrections, small corrections. Stay on the glide slope. Watch your airspeed.
She kept the flight director bars centered on the attitude indicator. “Approaching minimums,” the first officer said. I’m three hundred feet above the ground. No runway lights yet.
“Decision height.”
Kerri looked up from the instruments and saw faint strobe lights leading her to the runway threshold. “I have it. Landing.” The computer voice said, “Fifty, forty, thirty, twenty, ten.” She smoothly retarded the single throttle to idle and pulled back on the yoke to flare the jet. As the main wheels gently touched the runway, she flew the nose wheel down, lifted up on the thrust reverser lever, and stepped on the wheel brakes to stop the jet.
“Well, you both get to keep your jobs.” The check pilot who’d been sitting behind them for the last two days made it sound like he was giving them a present. “Good job on your crew coordination and your briefings. Excellent approach, Captain. See you both back here at the training center in nine months.” He turned the lights on in the cockpit, and the flight simulator settled back down onto the hydraulic actuators.
Kerri shook her copilot’s hand as they left the sim. “Great job, Bob. Thanks for your help.”
“Any time, Kerri. You fly a great airplane.”
Riding the bus from the flight training center to the airport, Kerri had to make a conscious effort to breathe deeply and calm her heart rate. After two days of “dial-a-disaster” in the simulator, which tested her flying skills to the max, she’d cheated death multiple times and passed every emergency thrown at her.
I hate playing “You bet your job.” I need a drink.