Chapter 24
Day 22
As we are walking in the front entrance of the restaurant for breakfast, I hear, “Hey Kobi, over here.” I look in the general direction of the voice and see Henderson already sitting at a table. The three of us walk over and have a seat.
“Good morning, Henderson. How are you this morning?” I ask.
“I’m great. How are you guys?
“We are doing fine. How is the weather looking for the flight today?” Dane inquires.
“The weather is clear the whole way. Just a little clear air turbulence forecast at the higher altitudes. Other than that, it should be smooth flying.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
Deciding what to eat for breakfast isn’t easy this morning. The menu has too many options. I am looking at the French toast plate, with eggs and bacon. But then I see out the corner of my eye, a pecan waffle, like the one we have at this great waffle house near St. Louis. That’s the winner right there. I am going to get a pecan waffle with bacon and eggs. I also want a glass of chocolate milk and a cup of coffee.
“Wow, I’m surprised you can eat that much after the large dinner we had last night,” Henderson says.
“Watch me,” I say smiling.
“So what time are we planning to takeoff?” I ask.
“I’m going to flight plan us for a 10:00 a.m. takeoff. Since the forecast is for moderate to severe clear air turbulence at all altitudes above FL 330, we will be flying at FL330 (33,000 feet) today. I’ve been in moderate turbulence before and it is not my idea of a party."
After breakfast, we head back to the hotel, get our bags, and check out. There is a shuttle bus in front of the hotel waiting to take us to the airport, so we will leave the keys to the car with the front desk attendant. All of the suitcases are loaded in the van and we are off to the airport. The van pulls up in front of the General Aviation building. The driver gets out and helps us unload the suitcases and wishes us a safe flight.
Henderson is inside activating his flight plan and paying for the fuel and hangar expenses. He comes outside about 30 minutes later and tells us that we are good to go. The lineman is pulling the airplane out of the hangar and will be parking it right here in front of the building. He stops there, hops off, disconnects the tow bar, and moves the vehicle out of the way. Then, he pulls out this rolled up red carpet and places it in front of the plane entrance, and rolls it all the way back to the front of the building where we are standing. That is service. How come they don’t roll out the red carpet for me at home when I pull up in my Cessna 172?
We load the luggage into the airplane and secure the compartment doors. I immediately yell, “Shotgun!” Everyone knows what that means. It means I get to ride right seat in the cockpit. Henderson just smiles and asks me if I want to work the radios today.
“Duuhh!” I say.
We pile into the jet and Henderson asks me to call for engine start.
“Perth Ground, Victor-Hotel-Charlie-Delta-Charlie starting engines.”
“Roger, copy, Charlie-Delta-Charlie.”
Henderson starts the engines. “Kobi, request taxi and clearance.”
“Perth Ground, Charlie-Delta-Charlie requests taxi and clearance.”
“Roger, cleared to taxi to Runway 21. Advise when ready to copy.”
“Ready to copy.” They give me our clearance for the flight to Darwin. I read it back to make sure I have copied it correctly.
Henderson starts his taxi to Runway 21. He is performing his taxi checklist and making sure the other instruments are set up for departure. When we get to the hold line, we stop, and ground control tells us to contact Perth Tower for departure.
“Charlie-Delta-Charlie copies, switching to tower… Perth Tower, Charlie-Delta-Charlie ready for departure,” I say
“Copy Charlie-Delta-Charlie, taxi into position and hold.”
“Roger, on to hold,” I reply.
Henderson lines up the aircraft with the centerline and applies the brakes. The tower clears us for takeoff. Henderson gradually adds power and starts to accelerate down the runway. This is a long runway, almost 12,000 feet. Obviously, we don’t need that much runway, but I bet the heavy, big boys do when they take off.
Henderson pulls back on the yoke and we are airborne. He signals me to raise the gear handle.
“Gear up and locked,” I say enthusiastically.
As we accelerate, he calls for the flaps up. I lift the flap handle and place it in the zero degree position.
“Charlie-Delta-Charlie, contact departure,” the tower says.
“Perth Departure, Charlie-Delta-Charlie, with you climbing to 8000 ft.”
“Copy, you are cleared to FL 330.”
“Roger, cleared to FL330,” I respond. We continue to fly the departure as directed. This baby just about flies itself. What an amazing aircraft. Once we get to FL330, I squeeze off a call to departure letting them know we are level at FL330. They pass me off to another controller on another frequency.
“You worked those radios like a pro, Kobi.”
“Thanks. Procedurally, it’s all the same, no matter how big or small the aircraft. I am having a little trouble with the controllers’ accent. I’m sure they have to listen to me carefully as well. You were right about the weather; it is absolutely beautiful up here today. Look at that blue. I think it’s the bluest blue I have ever seen.”
“So, Kobi, you haven’t talked much about what happened at the station. I
take it the news is not good.”
I proceed to tell him everything that has happened, and he looks really bummed out. “I feel sorry for her. So, once they find a cure, will you be flying back to Perth with the antidote?”
“I would like to do that, but that decision will be Geoff’s. I told Mrs. Jones that I would keep in touch with her, and if Geoff will let me, I will go back. Are you the only pilot the CDC has?”
“No, they have an entire Aviation Department with a couple of jets just like this one. So, if you are going to fly back to Perth, ask Geoff to request me. I’d love to fly you guys back there.”
“Thanks Henderson; that would be awesome. Do you want anything from the back? I am going to grab a soda.
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and make my way back to the mini-fridge. There is a Coke. Perfect. On my way back to the cockpit, a sudden gust of wind hits the plane and knocks me into the ceiling.
“Ouch.”
I climb back into the cockpit and say, “What was that?”
Obviously, I knew what it was--a sudden burst of turbulence. It was a rhetorical question. I get myself strapped back into the seat and say to Henderson, “That was a bit unexpected, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My head became one with the ceiling for a second, but no harm
was done. I told the guys to keep their seat belts on in case we hit any more air pockets. I don’t want to have to go back there and scrape them off the ceiling.”
“Good thinking.”
I am looking out of the window at the ground, amazed at how desolate it is down there. I don’t see a town anywhere. I imagine the only things living out there are the dingoes, kangaroos, and the locals. I am visually glued to the ground when a voice on the radio catches my attention.
It is Melbourne Center asking me to contact Brisbane Center on the radio. “Roger, Charlie-Delta-Charlie copy all.”
I switch the frequency on the radio and check in with Brisbane. We should be landing in Darwin in about an hour and forty-five minutes. Suddenly, with no warning at all, the plane violently descends. I see the altimeter dropping rapidly. Then the airplane is going up again. Imagine a model airplane, if you will. You are holding this model airplane between your fingers, going up and down with it rapidly. That’s what it feels like inside the airplane. The jarring is so intense that my teeth are being slam
med together. Henderson is doing everything he can do to maintain control, but we are being forced down towards the earth extremely fast.
This must be the clear air turbulence the weather station warned him about. It has been known to bring down an airliner before. I just hope he can regain control of the airplane before that happens. I see Henderson fighting with the controls, just trying to hang on to the airplane, but he is having a very difficult time. No one is saying a word; I’m not sure if I am breathing right now. All I can hear is my heart beating loudly in my ears. It’s like being on a fierce amusement
ride that never ends, thousands of feet off the ground.
I manage to catch a glimpse of the altimeter, and we are passing 31,000 feet and still descending. It’s hard to read the flight instruments because the bouncing is so severe. Henderson asks me to squeeze off a call to center, so I press the microphone button and say, “Brisbane Center, this is Victor-Hotel-Charlie-Delta-Charlie, we are experiencing severe turbulence and are unable to maintain altitude. Be advised we will contact you once we regain level flight.” I am having a hard time holding the microphone button because of the severe jolting of the aircraft. There is no response. I try again. Still, no response.
“Henderson, there is no response from Brisbane Center. “
“Okay, keep trying please.”
After a few minutes, the bouncing stops and we are in control again. That was the most intense experience I have ever had. I glance over at Henderson, and he is sweating, and he’s not smiling. We are at 28,000 feet, but something is wrong with the airplane.
“The airplane feels strange. Something isn’t right, Kobi. I feel it.” Henderson barely has a chance to finish his sentence when there is a loud bang, almost like an explosion, inside the airplane. There is a dense mist filling the air. Henderson yells at me to put on my oxygen mask. I reach back behind the co-pilot’s seat and grab a quick-don mask hanging on the side of the bulkhead. I put the contraption on and turn the oxygen lever to the ON position. Henderson asks me to hold the yoke for a minute so he can put his oxygen on as well.
Henderson starts a rapid descent, because he is trying to get to an altitude where Derrick and Dane won’t need oxygen. Up here, at altitude, lack of oxygen can cause hypoxia. Basically, your body is being deprived of oxygen when you are hypoxic. The only maneuver that can be done in a pressurized aircraft is called a rapid descent. This is a forceful maneuver where the pilot forces the aircraft down to a lower altitude in a very aggressive manner.
While Henderson is descending, he says, “The turbulence we encountered must have overstressed the aircraft beyond its limits causing something structurally to give way, maybe a stress fracture, aggravated by the turbulence. The elevator feels heavy, very heavy.”
He descends the airplane until we reach an altitude of 10,000 feet. The passengers are able to get adequate oxygen at this altitude, so Henderson starts to add power and pull back on the yoke to level it off. I look at the altimeter and we are passing through 10,000 feet. He can’t level it off. Both of us remove our oxygen masks.
“Henderson, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, I can’t pull back on the yoke, it’s stuck. I can’t pull or push it. Something is jamming the controls. Pull, Kobi, see if we can break it loose.”
Nothing happens. We are still descending and there is nothing we can do about it. I look back at Derrick and Dane and tell them to brace for impact. Henderson gets on the radio.
“Brisbane Center, this is Victor-Hotel-Charlie-Delta-Charlie. We have experienced a rapid, possibly an explosive decompression and have made an emergency descent to 10,000 feet but are unable to maintain altitude due to a jammed stabilizer. We are declaring an emergency at this time.”
There is no response. “We are unable to maintain level flight and will be forced to set her down. Brisbane, do you copy?”
Still, no response.
Hearing Henderson say those words sends shivers up and down my spine.
We are passing through 5000 feet. Henderson asks me to start looking outside for
a place to land. The landscape looks rough from up here, which could cause a problem for landing. It isn’t nice and flat like a runway. I am looking in all directions, hoping to find a small town, or for that matter, anything that is green. All I see is desert. I can’t believe this is happening. We are going to crash in the Outback.
“Kobi, set the Emergency frequency and declare an emergency for me please.”
I make the radio call and set the transponder to the emergency code.
“Henderson, I don’t see anything. Do you see anything out of your window?”
“No, I don’t see anything either, but we really don’t have a choice, because I can’t control the up or down movement. Just below us is a relatively flat piece where I can set her down. It’s not very big, but it’s the only spot I see. I am going to circle it once and try to roll the airplane out on final. Here goes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go ahead and put the flaps to 20 degrees.”
“Check.” Now he is slowing the airplane down so the gear can be put down.
“Gear down,” he yells.
“Gear down and locked.”
He is rolling the aircraft level, and all I see straight ahead is a bunch of rocks and uneven landscape. It’s about as flat as it will get out here. We are descending at a rate of 200 feet per minute now. That doesn’t sound like much, but when you impact at that rate, it is very significant. We are 500 feet above the ground, 400 feet, 300 feet, 200 feet—brace for impact—100 feet, and then BAM!
We hit with such force, I think I am three inches shorter. One of the landing gear breaks because the right wingtip is dragging the ground causing a violent yaw and then…