Equal Time Point Page 10

  She walked away before he could reply. Molly covered her mouth with her hand and coughed so she wouldn’t giggle.

  After Charlie made the ninety-degree turn, he typed a thirty-mile offset into the navigation computer and saw a new magenta line form parallel to the original track. It only took three minutes to cover the thirty miles, and as they approached the magenta line, he rolled the airplane left to intercept and pushed the nose over to begin the descent. The speed quickly increased to the red line as the throttles came back to idle.

  “I can’t close the valves, Charlie. I’ve tried everything, and it’s dumping fast.”

  “Okay, the system is designed with a standpipe level at twenty thousand pounds to prevent inadvertently dumping it all. It should stop at that point and we’ll have over an hour of fuel. We can make Lajes with no problem.”

  Tony said, “I can’t raise Santa Maria. I don’t know if I’m getting covered by someone else or if they just can’t hear me.”

  “Keep trying. We’re going there anyway, no matter what. When we get closer, you can get them on VHF. I’m going to level at twenty-eight thousand feet and that should give us a VHF range of well over a hundred miles.”

  At twenty-eight thousand feet, Charlie leveled the nose and turned to the right to proceed direct to Lajes. He noted the distance along the new magenta line to Lajes at five hundred and seventy miles.

  The tension was thick in Robby’s voice. “Charlie, we just blew by twenty thousand pounds. The standpipe level didn’t stop the dump. We’ve got about three minutes of fuel left.”

  Molly ignored Allen’s whining and ranting. She had an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Thousands of hours strolling the aisles of jet airplanes had produced the innate ability to realize when things were not going well. Britt had told her that Charlie was concerned about a fuel problem. She knew the only serious problem with fuel was not having enough. She glanced at her watch and calculated that they were in a very vulnerable portion of the flight. Running out of fuel was second only to an in-flight fire on the list of mid-flight nightmares. She saw Allen reach for the flight attendant call button. He was shocked when Molly grabbed his hand.

  “Shut up, Allen. Nobody wants to hear it.”

  Pattie Wells had enjoyed a most pleasant evening with her sister. They had visited a restaurant for a wonderful dinner and a few glasses of wine and caught up on all the latest gossip. Each vented their frustrations with life and then laughed when they realized just how little they could find to complain about. Pattie returned home after nine o’clock and enjoyed another glass of wine while she read a few chapters of the novel that Charlie had finished and recommended. At ten, she watched the local news and prepared for bed. The telephone startled her when it rang. The last thing she wanted to hear was a late night telephone call while Charlie was flying. She was relieved to hear her sister’s voice.

  “I just wanted to make sure you made it home safely, Pattie.”

  They talked a few minutes and agreed that they would get together more often. Pattie set the sleep timer on the TV in case she fell asleep before the news ended and crawled beneath the covers. When she reached to turn off the lamp beside the bed, she noticed that Charlie had forgotten to pack his beloved alarm clock. She smiled and thought about how apprehensive he was about oversleeping and how she would tease him about the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She checked to make sure the antique wasn’t armed and dangerous. She was sound asleep two hours later when the clock rang a five-second alarm and went suddenly silent. Pattie sat up in bed and cursed the little mechanical nemesis.

  Brian Davis cursed when he turned in his swivel chair, bumped his elbow, and spilled coffee into his lap. Through the open door to the bridge, he heard Lieutenant Strickland say, “Hey Davis, hold it down in there. Profanity is the product of a weak intellect.”

  Brian dabbed at the stain and wondered if his other set of dungarees were back from the ship’s laundry. He stood to stretch, and as he did the VHF speaker came alive. “Mayday! Mayday! Tri Con One-One, any station on guard, mayday!”

  Brian grabbed the mic, and when no one else responded he said, “Tri Con calling mayday, this is USS Karuk on guard, state your mayday, over.”

  “Karuk, Tri Con One-One, we have a fuel exhaustion emergency, present position, north 4443.7, west 03429.8, one-zero thousand feet, two hundred and eight souls on board, over.”

  “Loud and clear Tri Con, copy N4443.7/W03429.8 two hundred and eight souls. How can we assist, over?”

  The response came back weak and broken, “Karuk, Tri…on…One headi…ro four…ven miles…ect...”

  “Tri Con One-One, Karuk, over.”

  “Tri Con One-One, Karuk, over.”

  Brian had endured many days and nights guarding the emergency frequencies at sea and had never heard an actual mayday. He ran to the door and called, “Lieutenant, we have a mayday.”

  “What kind of mayday?”

  “An airliner out of fuel.”

  “Where?”

  Brian handed Lieutenant Strickland the message he had copied.

  “I’ll plot this position. Get fleet on satcom and relay the mayday.”

  Brian went back into the radio room and typed the message into the data link and transmitted it via satellite to Navy Comfleet. He tried to raise Tri Con on guard frequency again with no luck. The gravity of two hundred and eight people dying hit him, and he sat down and stared at the VHF receiver.

  The lieutenant came in and said, “They’re well over two hundred miles east and a little north of our position. Any more transmissions?”

  “No sir, I think they went down.”

  “God help them, Brian. I hope someone can get to them. We’re at least eighteen hours from that position.”

  Santa Maria control was located near the town of Ponta Delgada on the island of Sao Miguel in the Azores. This night the entire island was shrouded with fog and mist. The supervisor dialed the familiar number from memory and waited for an answer.

  “Gander Control, Laroue speaking.”

  “Hey Bill, it’s Jose at Santa Maria, we’re looking for Tri Con Eleven, did you guys send him over on 5598?”

  “Yeah, we copied you on his position at forty west.”

  “We got that but we never got him. He’s ten minutes past the ETA for thirty west.”

  “Probably having radio trouble. You want me to try a relay for you?”

  “No, I’ll try to get one of my flights to raise him on air-to-air. Hang on a second Bill…oh man, we have a problem. I just got a data link. Tri Con Eleven transmitted a low fuel mayday on VHF guard. Some Navy ship picked it up. He must have been low altitude if no one else heard it. We’ll scramble on it and get somebody out there.”

  “Let me know what you hear, Jose.”

  Thirty minutes later Brian Davis received a satcom from fleet and printed it out. “Lieutenant, we received a priority from fleet.”

  He handed the message to the lieutenant and watched him read. The officer walked over to the plotting table and drew a line on a chart.

  “Helmsman, come left two zero degrees, new course steady zero seven five.”

  “Steady zero seven five, aye, sir.”

  “Make turns for all ahead flank speed.”

  “All ahead flank, aye, sir.”

  The engine order telegraph rang as it was selected to flank speed and signaled the engine room to increase the propeller shaft turns to make maximum speed. The ship had been at all ahead full for a week, and Brian thought the electrician on the propulsion switchboard probably just fell off his stool.

  The lieutenant turned to Brian.

  “I can’t believe we’re the closest surface vessel to their position. Someone has to call the captain’s quarters and explain to him why his ship is heading a new direction and why he probably won’t see the Azores anytime soon. With your communications training, Davis, I’m confident you’ll do a fine job.”

  “Come on, Strick, last time I woke him up he sulk
ed for a week.”

  Someone behind them said, “What are you clowns doing up here?”

  The lieutenant recognized the gruff voice and turned to face the captain. “We just changed course and increased speed, sir.”

  “That’s why I’m standing here in my underwear asking questions, Lieutenant Strickland.”

  Charlie had to make some quick decisions. They had long since placed the fuel system in the manual mode and tried to manipulate valves and pumps to stop the loss of fuel. With only three minutes left, Charlie would try anything.

  “Robby, close all the cross feed and transfer valves. Trap that three thousand pounds in the aft balance tank and see if you can feed the center engine only with it.”

  Robby pushed light switches and watched the fuel screen. The plan seemed to be working. Charlie pulled the number two throttle to idle and said, “That should keep number two running for maybe thirty minutes. That won’t get us where we want to go, but at least we will have some control.”

  With the center engine at idle, the airplane began to slow. Charlie let the speed bleed off to two hundred and fifty knots and then eased the nose down to maintain that speed. They began a shallow descent. Robby said, “We’re down to nothing in the mains.”

  As he was talking, the number three engine slowly unwound and flamed out, causing lights to illuminate all over the cockpit. The generator stopped making electricity, the hydraulic pump stopped making pressure, the turbine stopped providing air pressure for air conditioning and pressurization, and warning lights and computer messages announced it all. The airplane tried to turn right, and Charlie pushed the left rudder and added rudder trim to stop it.

  “Tony, there’s no hope of making land, brief the flight attendants. Tell them to prepare for an emergency water landing. We’ll be forced to ditch the airplane in approximately fifteen minutes. If we can, we’ll send you back there to help, but don’t have them count on it.”

  The number one engine unwound and stopped, causing another multitude of lights and messages. Charlie removed the rudder trim he had used a few minutes before, now that the thrust was once again symmetrical. He left the center engine at idle and eased the nose over more. They were now at two hundred and fifty knots and descending at two thousand feet per minute. Simple math indicated that they had fourteen minutes plus whatever time the center engine would buy them. Charlie planned to use the engine to control the landing rather than to extend the range.

  Tony talked to Britt and then began transmitting on the HF radio. He got no response from Santa Maria, although he could hear other airplanes transmitting, all at the same time. Charlie ordered Robby and Tony into crew life vests. The crew vests were red so that crewmembers could be easily recognized, as opposed to the passengers’, which were yellow. He had Robby take the controls, and he reached into the back of his seat and found his vest and put it on.

  In the back of his mind, Charlie could hear Phil James saying, “There has never been a mid-ocean ditching by an air carrier passenger jet.”

  Phil would have lots to talk about from now on, and people would listen much more closely. Robby had the procedures manual out now and was reading aloud the ditching procedures and crew duties. Charlie confirmed that he planned to configure with full flaps for the slowest possible touchdown speed and that he would leave the landing gear up to prevent the rapid deceleration the wheels would cause by being underwater.

  When Robby completed the review of the ditching procedures, they were descending through eighteen thousand feet. Since they had no clue what the local barometric pressure was, they left their barometric altimeters set at standard pressure. Charlie reminded them that, uncorrected, the altimeter would be in error. Once they descended below twenty-five hundred feet, the electronic altimeter would become active and give them an accurate readout of their height above the water. They would depend solely on it.

  The fuel seemed to be feeding the center engine without a problem, but if it failed they would have no electricity and no hydraulics; the plane would become a huge glider. Charlie ordered the ADG to be deployed. The air driven generator was a contraption that deployed under the nose and used the slipstream to drive a windmill propeller that operated a small generator and a hydraulic pump. Charlie tried to remember everything that it operated, but gave up and concentrated on flying.

  The airplane slowly descended into the spider web like wisp of the upper cloud layer, and then they were totally enveloped in the gray mass of condensation. Charlie knew if they lost their instruments, they would be doomed. Hopefully, the ADG would provide insurance for that. They had no way to know how far above the water the lower clouds were.

  “Tony, we’re passing twelve thousand feet. Try the VHF guard frequency and see if anyone will answer. We need to at least transmit our position to someone.”

  There were three airplanes within VHF range. Two of them were talking to each other on air-to-air and had turned the emergency frequency volume down out of habit. The third had forgotten to change to guard after leaving Gander’s VHF range.

  Tony transmitted and was relieved to hear, “Tri Con calling mayday, this is USS Karuk on guard, state your mayday, over.”

  At least someone would know their position. After transmitting their situation to the ship, Tony gave their heading and distance from Lajes also, but received no response.

  “Tony, you better go back and do whatever you can in the cabin. Find a seat at the overwing exits and deploy the rafts there after touchdown. We’ve got less than ten minutes. I’ll give a brace command on the PA about thirty seconds before splash. Good luck.”

  Britt was stunned. She was shocked to hear the word ditch. She was paralyzed momentarily and then sprang into action, trying to remember everything from the training classes. She briefed the other flight attendants, telling them to secure everything that was not tied down and then strap in tight at their exit door. She made a PA and heard gasps as the passengers realized what she was saying. There were a few screams and then a lot of sobbing. She briefly explained the exit procedure and the raft operation that everyone had ignored during the video before takeoff. She told them to reach under their seat and remove the yellow life vest. She had a flight attendant in each section of the cabin to demonstrate how to put the vest on and adjust it.

  Once everyone had a vest on, she told them not to inflate the vest inside the aircraft. She explained that the vest had dual inflation tubes inflated by tiny CO2 bottles, and that pulling one of the red tabs would inflate the tube. Several pops were heard as people pulled the tab and inflated the vest after she just told them not to do it. She did not have time to explain how to inflate the vest manually if necessary or how to turn the battery operated light on. Next she quickly explained the brace position and how to lean forward and lock their arms underneath their knees with a pillow on their lap. The girls made a quick pass through the cabin to ensure that everyone had a vest on, and then started throwing loose items, including carry-on items, into the lavatories and closing the door.

  Nancy grabbed as many items as she could that people had stored under their seats and piled them in the john. Allen Smallwood sat staring straight ahead in stark fear. His vest was inflated, forcing his head high on his neck, and he hugged a laptop computer to his chest like a security blanket. When Nancy tried to take the computer, a brief wrestling match ensued. He began protesting and making demands. As she ripped the computer from his grip, she said, “Shut up, I’m trying to save your butt, not kiss it.”

  By the time Tony came into the cabin, most of the preparations were complete. Britt asked him if they would have electricity to open the doors after landing. He thought about it and knew the engine-driven generators would be gone and the ADG would be underwater. He took her to the forward door and explained that the system would revert to standby mode and the doors would open by using pneumatic pressure from an emergency air bottle at each location. They checked the pressure of the bottle at the forward door and found it normal. He reminde
d her that he would be at the overwing exits to deploy the rafts. Two flight attendants would also be there to man the doors and assist. Britt had assigned Bertie to the two right door. Bertie had already moved Mandy to a seat next to the door where she sat hugging her teddy bear, surrounded by pillows and blankets that Bertie had gathered and used as cushions around her.

  When Molly volunteered her help, Britt sent her to the rear doors to assist with the twenty-one handicapped. They both knew there was very little chance that all of those passengers would make it out. They would be very fortunate to have time to physically drag a few of them to the door. It might be a moot point because no one might survive.

  They had all just set down and fastened their shoulder harnesses when Robby’s voice came over the speakers.

  “Brace! Brace! Thirty seconds.”

  Charlie slowed to two hundred and thirty knots as they passed ten thousand feet. The rate of descent decreased to fifteen hundred feet per minute, buying them a little more time. He checked the fuel and saw that the center engine should continue to run long enough to help control the landing, but he could not be sure.

  His mind had raced through a hundred possibilities during the descent, but there were no options. He could feel the dampness of his hands on the yoke and removed them one at a time to rub on his pants leg. He tried to clear his mind. The situation was dire, but it was also simple. No decisions left to make. That did not stop him from sweating.

  When they passed twenty-five hundred feet, they were still in cloud but the radio altimeter popped into view to give him an accurate display of their height above the water.

  At one thousand feet, they could still not see anything except cloud in the windshield, but Charlie could not wait any longer.