by C. J. Stott
Both had their feet on the footrests at the bottom of their instrument panels for leverage and pulled harder. There was no discernable pitch change as the heavy 747 accelerated. The artificial horizon showed 8° nose down, holding steady. Don reached over and banged the throttles closed. All four levers hit their individual limit stops with authority. Another old habit, he slammed the flat of his hand against the four closed throttles, though they already were at idle. With the four Pratt and Whitney engines spooling down to idle, the nose dropped even more as the deck angle increase to 10° below the horizon.
The 747 accelerated another twenty knots. The wind noise in the cockpit was deafening. The increased speed generated additional lift. Slowly and imperceptibly the fuselage started to round out the descent. The 747 had been descending in excess of 10,000 feet per minute, but that had now decreased to 2,000 feet per minute. However, their airspeed was still well above the maximum Vne – the Never Exceed speed.
Aerodynamicists call this a phugoid oscillation curve. In theory and in practice, if the nose of the aircraft is pushed over, the aircraft will accelerate. The increased speed creates more lift. Increased lift results the airplane leveling out. With the plane level, the aircraft will lose airspeed. The loss of airspeed will cause a reduction in lift and the cycle repeats itself. If not upset by turbulence or significant changes in outside air temperature, most aircraft will eventually return to a stabilized attitude and in a stabilized configuration – on speed and on altitude.
The basic Air Traffic Control system uses alternating altitudes for traffic separation. North through East through South traffic are assigned altitudes of 33,000, 37,000 and 41,000 feet. South through West through North are to maintain 31,000, 35,000 and 39,000 feet. Because of 100’s inability to maintain any precise altitude, there was always a possibility opposing traffic could flying into the same airspace as was being used by Flight 100.
Chapter 78
19:55 Eastern Standard Time
Between Atlanta, Georgia and Jacksonville, Florida
Don shouted against the increased wind noise, “Fred, call the center, tell them we are having control problems and have descended through 27,000 feet.” He added, “I don’t know how much more altitude we’ll lose if we don’t get control of the aircraft back.”
The artificial horizon indicated they were pitched down 10° and holding steady. Don continued, “Tell them we need a block altitude from 310 to uh, hell I don’t know, just tell them we need a block altitude.”
Fred lost no time in following Don’s orders, as he considered the potential for a mid air collision with another aircraft at their altitude. “Washington Center, this is 100. We are having serious control problems. We can’t maintain or control our altitude. Back there, we were above 33,000 and then descending in excess of 10,000 feet per minute.” He took a breath, “We’re sort of level at 260, but we don’t know for how long.”
“Roger, 100. We’ve been tracking your altitude excursions.”
“Roger, that.”
“100. What do you want us to do?” The voice from the ground was tight, “What do you need from us?”
“Clear the decks. We’re not able to control our altitude. We don’t know yet, but our ability to control our heading may also become a little iffy. Keep all traffic above and below us well clear.”
Don picked up the microphone, “We don’t know what’s working and what’s not. We need an airspace cushion all around us.”
“100, we’ve already done that as a matter of course, ‘cause of your ah. . ah, diversion.”
“Thanks, Washington. No conflict then with other traffic, right?”
“That’s a Rog, 100. No problem with any other aircraft near you. What is your condition now?”
“We have a guy in the cockpit with a gun. He has pretty well shot up the aircraft. Looks like our Flight Engineer’s been badly hurt. One of our flight attendants is being held hostage in the cockpit and has been beaten.”
“Roger, 100.” No empathy. No sympathy.
The Mach/Airspeed warning clacker suddenly stopped. The aircraft has slowed below its maximum, Never Exceed Velocity. Don managed to hold the aircraft reasonably level and learned he could anticipate the oscillations more by feel than by his instruments.
“Fred, thanks for calling the center. Check on Stan will you? I don’t know if he’s with us or not.”
“100. If able, squawk 7500 or 7700 and ident.”
Fred, without needing to look at the transponder, pressed the Identification button. That sent a marked message to ATC, showing altitude, flight number and airline identification.
“100. We have your ident. Can you squawk 7500 or 7700 and then ident?”
Both pilots knew the significance of either of those two transponder codes, “Don?”
“Do it.”
Fred spun the selector knobs until the code in the transponder window read 7500. Once again, he pressed the Ident button.
Immediately, ATC responded, “100. We have your transponder code and your ident. Over.”
“Roger.”
Chapter 79
20:20 Eastern Standard Time
80 miles North of Jacksonville, Florida
Fred turned full around in his seat and looked at Stan, who was looking toward the front of the cockpit, obviously not seeing much and comprehending even less. While he looked aft, Fred stole a casual glance at the hijacker and Carlton.
“How you doin’, Stan?”
No real recognition at being addressed.
“Stan, can you hear me? Earth calling Stanley.”
Nothing.
“Don’t know, Don. I think ol’ Stan’s had his bell rung.”
“God damn it! Can’t you ever be serious? Here we are in a fucking airplane that is nearly out of control, with a full load of folks in the back and you’re making jokes.”
As suddenly as he had exploded, Don calmed down, “I’m sorry. Hold this thing level for a minute. I want to see what shape were in. Don’t do anything without telling me first.” Fred took a firm grip on the controls.
“You got it?”
“I’ve got it Don. Go ahead with what you’re doing.”
“Your airplane.”
Fred rotated his shoulders and twisted his neck full range, “My airplane.”
Don looked at the overhead and could see behind the panel through the holes caused by the bullets. He could smell the spent gunpowder as he looked at the Master Caution Warning panel lights. Out of 46 lights it looked like more than half were illuminated. To his practiced eye those lights indicated numerous system or subsystems had failed, were failing, or otherwise completely disabled.
The 747’s airspeed slowly and decreased below the minimum targeted flying speed of 270 knots. Fred applied Maximum Continuous Thrust. With no warning, the nose gradually pitched up. Fred applied moderate forward pressure, then full downward.
Don hollered at Fred, “Push all the way forward. Don’t be gentle with the son of a bitch.” He unnecessarily added, “Watch it, or she’ll get away from you.”
Before he finished his sentence, Fred was pressing the controls against the stops. This time the pitch increase was more dynamic and rapid than the last. The aircraft again quickly pitched up beyond 20°.
The stall warning sounded, an electric motor with a concentric weight attached to the control column. When the airplane approached a near-stall condition, the ‘stick shaker’ concentric motor was energized. In the 747-200 the stall warning sounded like a machine gun being fired underwater.
Don and Fred heard and felt the deep rumbling vibration of the impending stall as Fred applied full forward pressure on the controls.
They were in trouble. It appeared no one had any control of the aircraft. Don, Fred, Stan, Carlton, the Flight Attendants, the hijacker and over 400 passengers were all in the same boat. Essentially, it seemed, they were all just along for the ride.
Chapter 80
20:30 Eastern Standard Time
&
nbsp; South of Atlanta, Georgia
He lay in an unceremonious tangle of suitcases, papers, maps and an old airline blanket across Carlton’s leg and arm. He felt like he was going to throw up. To him, it looked like the floor was pointed straight up to the sky. He couldn’t move. Both pilots groaned as they pushed on their controls.
Bill was terrified because the airplane seemed to completely be out of control. He promised himself if he got out of this alive, he would never get on an airplane again. It never occurred to him that he was the cause of this problem. His hijacking scheme and his gun had caused all the damage to the airplane the crew was trying to overcome.
Carlton moved. Bill tried to punch him with his elbow, but the angle of his arm and extra weight from being up on his shoulders made his blow ineffective. Carlton winced and whimpered quietly, as he lay under Bill’s rump and side.
Both pilots pushed forward on the black control column, with as much strength as they could gather. This time, as in the past attempts, the mighty Boeing 747 did not appear to respond to their inputs. They both sensed she was not going to answer their commands.
Now the nose of the 747 pointed skyward. Loose items in the cockpit floated and tumbled aft. Soft, forgotten gray dust balls rolled out from under the rudder pedals. Don’s suitcase slid aft and slammed into the rear cockpit bulkhead, narrowly missing Carlton and brushed against Bill Guerrero’s leg.
Don instinctively knew he was losing control of the aircraft. The ailerons were very sloppy in controlling the plane’s roll axis. He could feel the celebrated aerodynamic stall as it advanced. The airframe vibrations and buffeting were transmitted throughout the fuselage, then up through his cockpit seat. The enormous wings were losing their ability to produce sufficient lift to keep the bird in the sky.
Their sophisticated instrumentation showed she was pitched up well above 20°, “Goddamnit, Fred, help me push. Give it everything you’ve got.”
“Yes sir. Boss, I’m a pushin, Master.”
He looked at the air speed indicator. He was alarmed to see it still backing off. He watched with dismay as the speed steadily decreased to 240 knots. Old habits are powerful motivators. He reached for the throttles and felt Fred’s hand already on the four levers. Both instinctively addressed the problem of decaying airspeed with the substantial application of thrust.
Stan Kurtz heard the familiar sound, a rapid “Rat-a-Tat-Tat-a-Tat-a-Tat.”
“That sound, where had he heard it before?” Dimly, Stan tried to recall, Machine Guns...The sound of a door-mounted Gatling gun on a helicopter gun ship...He thought to himself, “No. That’s not right.” He felt the steep inclination of the cockpit and then again that sound, “Rat-a-Tat-Tat.”
For a moment, he thought he was back in his F-4 in the Marines, but then realized he was on the flight deck of a Boeing 747, a 747 that was about to stall. He knew they were near a stall by the sharp pitch of the cockpit floor. He reconfirmed his suspicion by looking at Don’s artificial horizon. Over 20° nose up.
The rat-a-tat sound continued, and then he knew what it was. It was the Boeing 747 mechanical stall warning, the stick shaker.
Stan could not believe what he was seeing. He thought, “No pilot would pull the nose up that high.” Stan glanced at Fred’s horizon and with great alarm, saw the same pitch up indications.
He quickly reacted and spoke without thinking, “Don, get the Goddamned nose down and get some power on this baby…” Don turned and looked at Stan, and said, “I’m doing the best I can, Stan.”
Stan’s eyes were automatically drawn to the airspeed indicators. He felt fire in his gut when he saw the airspeed continuing to decrease.
In quiet desperation, Stan said, “Aw shit, Don. Look at the frickin’ airspeed. We’re down to 225 knots. What the hell’s the matter with the airplane?”
Stan became more aware of his surroundings. He saw that Don and Fred were both pressing with great force on the dual flight controls. Both were giving it their all.
His attention was diverted by the number two and four engine exhaust gas temperature indicators. Both started to flash amber warning lights.
The flashing stopped and was now a steady amber. Next they became bright red beacons. A clear warning for all to see. Multiple engine failures were just few seconds away.
“Don, we’re about to over temp 2 and 4.”
Don was doing everything he consciously could think of. He was doing it all. Push. Power. Rudder. Push. Power. Rudder.
“Don, two and four are steady red. Can you pull off any power?”
“Not now, Stan, we’re down to 220. I’ve got to get the nose down before I lose any more airspeed. She’s going to stall.”
The nose was now pointed upward at 24°.
He looked at the telltale temperature indicator lights for each engine. Stan was right, two and four were on steady red. Number three flashed amber and then red as he looked at the other exhaust gas temperature indicators. With his hand on the throttles he pulled two and four levers back, bent his wrist and pulled three back. The telltale warning lights went out.
Don sensed the pitch of the aircraft had also changed. He looked at the artificial horizon and confirmed it, 21° and slowly decreasing.
He knew something was not right. For some reason, everything he knew or had been taught about stalls and stall recovery was not working in this aircraft. He also sensed their pitch was somehow controlled by the thrust of the four engines. He surrendered. If he did not do something quickly, they all were likely going to die.
He looked at Fred and said, “I’m going to gradually pull the power off.” The thought of reducing power during a stall recovery still went counter to everything all three pilots had been taught in training.
Fred said in a small voice, “It’s okay with me. Boss. ‘Cause whatever we’ve been doin’ ain’t working for sour owl shit.”
“Here goes.” He slowly pulled the throttles back to flight idle. His assumption was correct. The aircraft pitch was largely being controlled by the thrust of the four engines. When the throttles were pulled back to idle, the nose of the aircraft eventually and gracefully fell to a point slightly below the horizon. Slowly and gradually, the 747 had found a position of balance. Her airspeed was stable at 230 knots and she was descending slightly.
Don advanced the throttles partially and she sluggishly responded. Her broad nose slowly rose slightly above the horizon, while her airspeed remained constant at 230 knots. He pulled off half the power he had just added and her nose settled on the horizon. For the moment, he touched nothing and just watched what she was going to do. The 747 maintained a level altitude. The altitude neither increased nor decreased. Airspeed was stable. For the moment, they were safe. The question was, for how long?
Chapter 81
20:45 Eastern Standard Time
Northwest of Jacksonville, Florida
“I’ll be damned, I’ve never seen an airplane change pitch because of power settings.”
Obviously relieved, Fred said, “Looks like you pulled one out for the Gipper.” Then he added, “Probably because we don’t have much elevator authority with the hydraulics shot to hell.”
Stan said, “Might also have something to do with the engines being mounted under the wings. Might be a moment created that caused the pitch changes. Don’t know. Just a guess.”
Fred turned in his seat and spoke to Stan, “Welcome back. How was your nap?”
Don ignored his both pilots’ remarks. He pulled the control column aft slightly, but nothing happened. He exerted more pressure, but the nose remained fixed firmly on the horizon. He released the pressure and slowly her nose started to rise.
Neither pilot knew if the stabilizer had moved or not. Don incorrectly assumed the horizontal stabilizer was not functioning at all. He had, however, correctly discovered the pitch of the aircraft could be marginally controlled by changes in the engine power settings. Aircraft pitch and airspeed are inexorably tied together. Basic airmanship, “Pitch incre
ases, speed decreases. Pitch decreases, speed increases.” When the badly damaged 747 accelerated, the nose started up. And conversely, when she slowed, the nose dropped.
“Fred, it looks like we have some pitch control with power. The trick is going to be how to descend to a lower altitude while we maintain control of our airspeed.”
“Sort of like a monkey screwing a football.”
Stan laughed at Fred’s remark.
Stan said, “Tell you what. As I said, I think we are seeing the change in pitch because the engines are hung under the wings. When we change power settings, the aircraft reacts with a pitch change. Normally, we don’t feel it or see it because of the automatic compensation from the elevators. With no hydraulic power to the stabilizer, she’s free to do what ever she wants in the pitch axis.”
No one commented on Stan’s remarks, but all agreed.
“Let’s smoothly pull the power back and see what the sink rate and airspeed does, tell the center that we are going to make use of our block altitude clearance.”
“Jacksonville Center, this is 100, squawking 7500.”
“Roger 100. Jax Center. Go ahead.”
“Awhile back you gave us a block altitude from 25,000 to 15,000. We just wanted to let you know that we’re on our way down to a lower altitude. Don’t be alarmed if you see us making altitude changes.”
“100 Roger. What are your conditions?”
“Other than we can’t control our pitch or airspeed very well, we’re doing just fine.”
Angrily, Don picked up his microphone, “Jax Center. We nearly stalled the aircraft about 20 miles back. We are stable at 26,500. We want to evaluate our control capabilities.”
“Understand, 100. You were cleared to maintain a block between 240 and 330. Please advise us if you need to descend below 240.”
Fred picked up the microphone, “Understand we’re still cleared the block 330 to 240. We’re requesting a block from 310 to 10,000 feet. Don’t know if we’re going to need it, but want the option.”
