“Watch your speed, Bill,” advised Don, noticing their speed had dropped below the small amber hook on his airspeed display.
The amber hook visually warned the pilots that a stall was imminent if they didn’t act quickly. To stall a B747 with two engines out on one side would likely put the airplane in an unrecoverable situation. And with practically no altitude in which to maneuver, such a condition virtually guaranteed the flight would end in catastrophe.
Bill knew the airplane was decelerating, but since it had been refusing to climb he was gently trying to convince the big fellow to humor him. It wasn’t working. They were slowly sinking toward the ground and there was nothing Bill could do about it!
Twenty-five knots below the recommended airspeed for initiating flap retraction, Bill reached over and selected the flaps to ten degrees.
“What the heck are you doing!?” asked Don in a surprised, yet clearly angry tone.
“We’re sinking and she won’t accelerate. If I roll the wings level, we’ll hit the mountains. And since I’m now inside the amber hook, the only thing left is to get the flaps up,” Bill said in a calm, deep voice.
“Are you nuts? That is completely outside established procedures! This is totally unacceptable!” stated Don in a very loud voice. “All you’ve managed to do is raise our stall speed.”
“Don, you’ve been hiding in the training department for far too long,” said Bill. “You need to get out in the real world. What would you have me do, crash? Are you telling me that it would be OK to crash the airplane, just as long as I hit the ground with the flaps set properly and the speed where it’s supposed to be? I’m doing what I have to in order to get us safely back on the runway.”
When he didn’t get a reply, Bill quickly glanced over to his copilot and noticed that Don was looking at the FAA inspector, who was sitting in the back of the simulator with a smug smile on his face.
John Tacker knew there was no way a fully-loaded B747 could fly on two engines. And just to make sure, he threw in an open cargo door to guarantee the outcome. What he hadn’t counted on was what forty years of experience had taught the old man in the left seat.
Don swung around when he heard Bill retract the flaps to five degrees. He couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. The senior instructor was momentarily stunned, knowing his student had just sealed his own fate. He was about to explode into a fit of anger toward the rogue captain regarding his use of what he considered to be an unsafe and unproven procedure, as well as demonstrating incredibly poor airmanship. But just as Don was about to let himself go, he noticed that their speed had begun to increase. The instructor, whose mouth was hanging wide open, looked on as something that he considered to be completely impossible was happening before his very eyes.
It didn’t take long for their speed to fly past the amber hook. And even more remarkably, the heavy airplane gradually began to climb. Don was speechless.
“Don, have you run the checklist for the cargo door?” asked Bill.
“Uh, no, uh, Bill, I’m uh, I’m going to do it now,” said Don, still unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. He simply could not believe that some old line pilot could teach him something he didn’t already know. After all, he was a B747 instructor. He didn’t think anyone knew more about the airplane than he did. As Don ran the remaining checklists, he repeatedly glanced at the speed and altimeter displays, shaking his head in disbelief.
When Bill banked the airplane onto a downwind for runway five, level at two thousand feet, no one was more surprised than John Tacker. The angry Fed was forced to watch in awe as the old salt brought the massive airplane back to the airport in one piece. He’d knowingly placed Bill Pratt into a no-win scenario, one that he himself had been given during his training years earlier. Of course, John, who’d been given three attempts to fly the exact same departure, crashed on each try. Bill Pratt’s unexpected performance left John Tacker feeling completely flabbergasted.
Bill unassumingly called for each checklist in turn as he piloted his red-tailed Whale around the traffic pattern. It was as though the skilled airman had practiced that very scenario a hundred times.
Captain Pratt lined the enormous wounded bird up on final with seemingly no effort whatsoever. He carried some extra speed, unsure of what Tacker might try next. He half expected a windshear moments before touchdown or a truck pulling out on the runway, but neither happened.
The touchdown was so smooth it took a few seconds for the airplane to indicate that it was on the ground. The Boeing’s confusion subsequently caused a delay in the deployment of the ground spoilers, which is very much a rarity for B747 pilots to witness.
John briefly considered having one of the main landing gears collapse after touchdown, but gave up on the idea after watching how his longtime enemy seemed to become part of the machine he was flying. He concluded that there was very little Captain Pratt couldn’t handle.
After Bill had safely parked the aircraft at the gate, Don looked at his captain and said, “I’d love to go over that scenario with you again sometime. I had no idea the airplane would do that. I think we should incorporate that into our training program.”
“You go ahead and do whatever you want, Donny old boy. I’m going upstairs right now and turn in my paperwork. I think I’ve had enough fun for one career,” said Bill with a smile.
Bill undid his seatbelt, slid his seat back, and then paused for a lingering moment. He took a long hard look at the switches on the overhead panel and the massive power levers on the center console, seemingly burning the images into his mind. He knew it was the last time he would ever set eyes upon what had been his home for a very long time. It had been a good career, but he knew inside that it was time to go.
When Bill stood to walk out, John put his hand up to block him.
John knew there was no way he could fail Bill after what he’d just witnessed, but neither was he about to let him walk away without first giving the old captain a scathing debrief. He may have saved the day, but the Fed wanted to make sure that Captain Pratt got the tongue lashing he’d long dreamed of giving. He craved his pound of flesh. But just as John was about to speak, he was forced to stop.
Bill stood erect and looked deep into John Tacker’s eyes. He noticed the Fed instantly tense up. Next, ever so slowly, Bill made a tight fist with his right hand. He then pulled his arm back, as if he was preparing to strike. After standing motionless for a few seconds, Bill sluggishly brought his clenched fist forward, placed it three inches from the Fed’s face and extended his middle finger. He stood firm for a very long moment while smiling brightly. And then, without uttering a word, the old man walked out of the simulator and into the next chapter of his life.
Thirty Six
August 11, 2002
(Ten years later)
The foursome sat on a blanket licking their ice cream, watching the dozen shades of orange and red intensify with each passing moment, as the sun sank below the horizon. High above, they could see a handful of grayish-white contrails dissipating rapidly in the high altitude winds. It was a peaceful moment that none of them wanted to see end.
“My, what a lovely day it’s been,” said Lynn.
The only response was a couple of barely audible murmurs. It was truly a snapshot in time that required no words.
Jack, always the first to finish his cone, had just one bite left when he blurted out, “I wish I could have seen Mr. Tacker’s face when you flipped him the bird, Grandpa.”
“Yes, that truly was a sight,” said Bill with a chuckle.
“Must you, William?” snapped Lynn.
“What? These kids are from the city, dear; I’m quite sure they know all about such things.”
“It was a fun lesson today, Grandpa,” said Lucy.
“Yeah, it was!” exclaimed Jack. “When you pulled the throttle back to have me practice an emergency landing, I really thought the engine quit!”
“You should have seen your expression, Jack,” said Bi
ll. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to have a heart attack or wet your pants.”
The small group laughed hard while considering the image they each held in their minds.
“And the best part was when we were ten feet above the ground--Grandpa took the airplane, pushed in the throttle and pulled the airplane straight up!” exclaimed Jack, using his hands to illustrate the maneuver for the others in the group. “And then, when we were about four hundred feet above the ground, Grandpa did an aileron roll. Man, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“You didn’t!” snapped Lynn.
Lucy frowned. “You never rolled it with me on board, Grandpa.”
“I would have, Lucy, had you not scared the dickens out of me while you were practicing your emergency landing today. My word, I thought you were going to hit the drive-in movie screen when I told you to go around.”
More laughter ensued.
“At least I didn’t panic,” said Lucy.
“That’s right, you didn’t. But that’s because I was panicking enough for both of us.”
“Yeah, Lucy, Grandpa knows that I’m a good pilot and can handle a few aerial stunts,” said Jack.
“Well, Jack, I’d say you certainly do like living on the edge. Like the time I asked you what you would do if the engine failed right after you lifted-off and you replied, “I’d pull the nose up into an immelmann turn and then land going the other way,” said Bill, while struggling to control his laughter. “The fact that you even know what that is makes me nervous. And I’m certainly glad you didn’t try that one on me today.” Then after a brief pause to catch his breath, “You know why that wouldn’t work, don’t you, Jack?” he asked in a slightly more serious tone.
“Yes, Grandpa. There wouldn’t be enough energy in the airplane to do that,” replied Jack. It would probably stall when I got to about forty-five degrees of pitch. But it would work if I was flying an F-16 in full afterburner.”
“I bet it would,” said Bill with a laugh.
“Fat chance they’ll ever let you fly one of those. But I might someday,” shot Lucy.
“I doubt it. Women can’t fly fighters, they’re too chicken,” retorted Jack.
“At least I didn’t almost wet my pants when it looked like we were going to crash.”
“She’s got you there, Jack,” said Bill. “Fighter pilots aren’t allowed to have heart attacks or wet their pants.”
“All right, I don’t want to hear anymore of that kind of talk,” said Lynn. Then, shooting a glance at her husband she added, “See what you started?”
Through his laughing lips, Bill replied, “I didn’t start anything, Jack started it. And for the record, Lucy, I think you’d make a fine fighter pilot--you too, Jack.”
Lynn looked at the man who had felt the wind of ten thousand places blowing through his hair, and instantly felt like the luckiest woman on the planet.
The group finished their ice cream, surrounded by a warm summer breeze that carried their laughing and joking words. Each could feel their hearts overflowing with joy. There was no way they could have known that in less than twelve hours their worlds would be turned upside down.
Thirty Seven
The Escape, Part II
August 12, 2002
The murky clouds above them suggested that they may not make it over the mountains. The Endless Mountains had been given their nickname for a reason, and Lucy silently hoped that the wide string of hills cutting Pennsylvania in half wouldn’t give them any trouble. She’d had enough for one day.
“Why do you think she didn’t want to fly?” asked Jack, recalling their harrowing takeoff.
“What?” she asked.
“Why did ‘626 have so much trouble getting off the runway?” repeated Jack.
Lucy thought about it for a minute, trying to come up with a reasonable answer.
There was a small luggage compartment located behind the two seats they were occupying. It wasn’t designed to carry very much, and when Lucy glanced over her shoulder she understood their problem.
In their haste to make a quick getaway, her brother had tossed both of their large, heavy knapsacks into the back, along with Emily, the barn cat. Neither of them bothered to think about it at the time, but they’d overloaded the airplane. It might not have been a problem on a long paved runway, but they’d taken-off from a slippery grass field on their grandfather’s farm. Lucy chastised herself. Her grandfather had told her many times: There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots. She’d been bold, so she reminded herself to be more careful in the future.
Lucy gazed at the hills ahead. There was a large mountain peak just south of the Tunkhannock Airport, and it looked as though the clouds ahead and the highest peak atop Miller Mountain were lightly touching.
Though the cockpit of a Cessna 150 has never been known for its tranquility, both pilots were silently contemplating what lay ahead. There were indeed high mountains in view out front, but there was another mountain that was even closer, and perhaps more threatening, but neither wanted to talk about it. It was the mountain of fear they each held inside regarding their future. The dangers out ahead of the airplane they were willing to face, but what was behind them seemed far worse.
Jack, being the youngest and boldest of the two, finally decided to broach what neither wanted to discuss since leaving New York many weeks earlier.
“Do you think they got a divorce?” asked Jack, staring at the ground beneath them. He held his breath, awaiting his sister’s response.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy.
“What do you think they’ll do with us?” asked Jack, as he slowly and reluctantly turned to face his older sister. “Do you think we’ll have to go to an orphanage?”
Lucy turned to face her brother, but only for a second before turning back to study the situation in front of them. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll probably live with Mom and only get to see Dad for one or two weekends a month.”
Jack mulled his sister’s words over for a moment. “I don’t want to live like that, Lucy.”
“Neither do I, Jack. Neither do I. But angry parents and judges don’t care what kids think.”
“Why can’t they just stay together?”
“Jack, you know as well as I do, all they do is fight. I’m tired of it. It’s like they argue about every little thing. I mean, why did they get married in the first place if they hated each other so much?”
“Do you think they’ll split us up?” asked Jack. “You know, have you live with Mom and me with Dad?”
“It’s possible, I suppose. I don’t know what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll have Mom and Dad pick who they want.”
“I love Mom and all, but she seems to, it’s sort of like, uh, lately she’s becoming someone different. It’s like she’s someone else all of a sudden. You don’t think she’s having an affair do you?”
“What do you know about affairs?” she asked, while turning to face her brother with squinting eyes and furrowed brows.
“Hey, I watch TV. I know parents cheat on each other sometimes,” he said, trying to make his words sound much bolder than he felt inside.
“I don’t know. Dad has been acting funny, too. I think, uh, I doubt it.”
“If Dad found another girl, well, I suppose I would understand. I mean, Mom has been acting a little crazy lately. But if Mom is running around, then I’m gonna get a gun and kill the guy,” he said, speaking with absolute bravado.
Lucy looked at her brother again and smiled grimly. “First of all, you’re not going to kill anyone. Besides, where do you think you would get a gun?”
“I could get one,” he said. “Timmy So’s father has a gun. I could get his.”
“Grow up. That’s stupid talk. And why do you think it’s OK for Dad to cheat, but not Mom?”
“Because she’s a mom, that’s why!” he exclaimed, speaking with the boldness of a man--yet, at the same time, with the innocence of a young boy.<
br />
Beyond the situation with his parents, Jack could feel all sorts of changes going on inside. It seemed one week his pants fit just fine and the next week they were too short. One day he didn’t have a hair on his body, except for the light blond hair on top of his head, and the next day he could feel hair growing in places it never had before. His voice would squeak occasionally when he spoke, and he could no longer hit the high notes when he sang along with the music on the radio. Things he used to like no longer interested him. Jack also noticed that he’d begun to stare at girls a lot more than he ever had before, and in a different way somehow. There were other changes going on that he was too embarrassed to even think about. He’d always loved his mom more than anything in the world. There was a time when he hoped to one day marry her. Of course, he knew those were the thoughts and dreams of a little boy; men didn’t think like that. It was almost as if he could sense that he was a boy about to break into manhood, but didn’t quite grasp the concept.
“I suppose if I had to pick, I guess I’d have to go live with Dad,” said Jack, with faint resolve in his voice. “I mean, a man should be with his father.”
Like her brother, Lucy and her body were encountering monumental changes on a weekly basis. Things seemed to be happening so rapidly she couldn’t keep up, let alone understand it all. Her moods were all over the place. One minute Lucy was on top of the world, and the very next minute she just wanted to step off the merry-go-round and take a break. Things were taking place that she couldn’t possibly discuss with anyone, except perhaps with her closest and most trusted friends. Lucy found herself lusting after boys, and then hating them almost simultaneously. Lucy and her mom had talked about the changes she should expect, but there was no way she could ask questions. To do so would have been far too embarrassing. She’d wanted to ask her mom about boys, but doubted her mother would understand such things.
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