Doing it right when things go wrong
Most pilots will never experience a sudden emergency situation — normal one moment, completely abnormal the next. Most pilots will never lose an engine at a critical point in the takeoff, for instance, or face multiple, serious systems problems.
Then again, some do. When things go terribly wrong, it's a pilot's or crew's ability to pull it all together and make the right choices that separates a happy outcome from a disaster. It doesn't matter if the airplane is big or small, or whether the pilot is a relative beginner or longtime veteran.
What matters is how well the pilot knows the airplane. What matters is how well he or she can instinctively summon from training or experience what needs to be summoned at that instant, for that unique set of circumstances. What matters is teamwork and the ability to prioritize and make good decisions.
In a word, what matters is airmanship.
This is the story of one such flight, a planned transatlantic journey expected to last a little under seven hours, but which lasted only 34 minutes. In that short period of time some things went very wrong, but many more things were done right by different people, and the aircraft returned for a safe landing. Afterward, there was ample cause to reflect upon all the "what ifs" that such predicaments inevitably raise.
Continental Flight 60 from Newark, New Jersey, to Brussels, Belgium, began normally enough as Capt. Doug Schull taxied to Runway 4L on the evening of April 25, 2000. The McDonnell Douglas DC-10 was loaded with 220 passengers and an 11-person crew, and carried nearly 80 tons of fuel. Each of its three General Electric CF6-50C2 engines would be called on to produce 50,000 pounds of thrust for the heavyweight takeoff. As flight attendants prepared the cabin for departure and passengers settled in for the all-night flight, the cockpit crew ran through its pretakeoff checklists.
The taxi checklist included a "takeoff briefing" item, the crew's chance to discuss the specifics of the takeoff. Even though Schull, first officer Bill Duus, and second officer Bob Mazur were all experienced in both DC-10 and Newark operations, Schull nevertheless gave a detailed briefing. Among the items he discussed were how the crew should react to an engine failure, and under what circumstances he would consider a high-speed aborted takeoff. It was a briefing the others probably could have recited in their sleep, but it set the tone for what was about to happen.
With the aircraft weighing just shy of half a million pounds, the V 1, or takeoff decision speed for the flight, was calculated at 150 knots. In other words, should something require that the takeoff be rejected, the aircraft could (in theory) be stopped on the runway from that speed. But it also could be continued safely, an option proved by long experience to be the better choice. At any faster speed, even with an engine failure, the decision would be to continue takeoff.
Seldom do events, especially emergencies, play out as neatly as imagined. But this one started, at least, awfully close to the scenario Schull had briefed.
For moments later, as Flight 60 accelerated down the runway, a loud explosion was heard throughout the passenger cabin. In the cockpit, the sound was a bit more muffled, but still startling. Schull immediately thought tire failure. Duus thought engine failure. In the few seconds it took them to analyze what was happening, two other events transpired. A yellow "engine failure" light illuminated on the panel, and the aircraft reached V 1 speed.
There it was, the real deal — an engine failure at takeoff decision speed, just like so many times in the simulator.
With confirmation from the instruments and fellow crewmembers that indeed the number-one (left) engine was failing, Schull was faced with a split-second, coin-toss decision. Abort the heavily loaded aircraft or get it airborne and have the luxury of time to prepare for an emergency landing? He knew from training that, statistically, "go" was a safer bet than "stop" at this speed. Plus, in his briefing he had indicated he would do as much in this situation. So he continued. At the same instant Mazur reached the identical conclusion, and shouted, "Go!" to Schull.
Schull rotated the heavy jet a few seconds later. It began to climb, albeit more slowly than normal, but well under control.
As the crew scanned the instruments for more clues, they could see that the number-one engine hadn't failed completely, but rather was operating at a much-reduced power setting. A strong vibration shook the aircraft, and Mazur grabbed hold of the QRH, or quick response handbook, containing the emergency checklists. At around this time the tower reported debris on the runway. Pilots of another aircraft who observed the takeoff reported flames and smoke coming from Flight 60's engines.
Naturally enough, the crew believed the vibration to be caused by a damaged number-one engine. But after reducing power on the number-three (right) engine as they leveled off at 3,000 feet, the vibration subsided, so it too was probably damaged. The situation was suddenly more serious, with both number-one and -three engines operating at well below normal power settings. Immediately after the loud noise was heard, flight attendants seated in different parts of the aircraft got on the interphone system and began comparing notes. Apparently smoke was coming from both wing-mounted engines. They hurriedly met in the forward coach galley to begin reviewing evacuation procedures.
Back in the cockpit, Schull's crew was still in troubleshooting mode. Obviously something unusual had affected two of the ship's engines, but exactly what was still unclear. What was clear was that the aircraft needed to be landed as soon as possible.
But there was another problem. Right after the noise was first heard, a red gear-unsafe light had illuminated. It went out when the gear was retracted, but it suggested there was some kind of problem with the landing gear as well. To make matters worse, the aircraft was full of fuel and about 44 tons over its maximum certified landing weight of 403,000 pounds. If tires or landing gear were already damaged, the overweight aircraft might not be able to stop on the runway.
Schull passed control of the aircraft to Duus, as the three discussed their predicament. Mazur suggested they dump fuel rather than land immediately. Schull and Duus concurred with the idea. But with two sick engines that might fail at any moment, they didn't want to get too far away from the airport. They advised New York Departure Control of the fuel dump, declining the controller's request that they climb and depart the area to do so. Instead, they began dumping fuel immediately.
As fuel left the aircraft at better than two and one-half tons per minute, Schull called the lead flight attendant, Greg Thompson, and briefed him on the situation. They would be making an emergency landing in just a short while. Thompson and his team of flight attendants had figured as much, and had already started preparing the passengers for the landing and possible evacuation. Schull then advised the passengers of what would happen next.
Finally, the aircraft was light enough to commence the approach. With all emergency checklists nearly complete, Schull took control of the aircraft from Duus and set up for the ILS 4R approach back into Newark Liberty International.
When the landing gear was lowered, the red unsafe light reappeared on the forward panel. But a second set of gear lights on Mazur's flight engineer panel showed three green lights, a safe indication. They concluded that the gear was probably safely down and locked, and continued.
In the passenger cabin, flight attendant Beverly Farnum finished making the rounds of her passengers in first class, speaking to each one individually. They all seemed to be pretty calm. As the aircraft neared the runway, she joined Thompson and other flight attendants shouting, "Bend over, heads down," just like she had been trained.
The DC-10 touched down on Runway 4R, and except for an unusually long landing rollout, came to a safe and uneventful stop. The aircraft was immediately surrounded by emergency crews and equipment. No evacuation was required, but since the aircraft couldn't taxi, the passengers were taken by bus back to the terminal.
It was only afterward that the crew learned exactly what they had faced during the emergency.
According to the NTSB report of the accident (classified that way because of the amount of damage to the aircraft), the chain of events started with the uncontained failure of the number-one engine during the takeoff roll. Parts of that engine were ejected through its cowling. The high-velocity hunks of metal damaged two main landing-gear tires, as well as the number-two engine. For whatever reason, the engines continued to produce partial power throughout the flight.
As the tires failed, they shed large pieces of rubber that struck the aircraft in various places, causing considerable damage. This included fan blade damage to the number-three engine, which nevertheless had continued to operate throughout the short flight. The tire debris also damaged the left main landing-gear access door, which caused the gear-unsafe light to illuminate. A hydraulic line was ruptured, but the leak was not massive enough to cause the system to be lost during the flight.
All three engines required replacement.
An engineering analysis conducted afterward concluded that had Schull aborted the takeoff, the damaged tires would have seriously compromised the ability of the aircraft to stop. In other words, the V 1 calculations were essentially worthless at that point. At such a heavy weight and speed, the airliner probably wouldn't have stopped on the runway. Continuing the takeoff proved to be the better decision.
Schull himself is quick to relate that he and his crew simply did as they were trained. Had it been another crew aboard Flight 60 that spring evening, he is convinced they would have handled it just as professionally.
He cites two training matters in particular that he believes made a difference.
"Being spring loaded to the 'fly' decision at V 1 was important. It's something that's been hammered into us in recent years."
The other is good crew resource management, or CRM. "Everyone on the crew felt comfortable giving input. With a crew working together like that, everything just falls into place."
The flight crew of Flight 60 was later given the Order of Daedalians Distinguished Achievement Award, and the Flight Safety Foundation's President's Citation, in recognition of superior airmanship in completing the flight safely.
Vincent Czaplyski, AOPA 690264, holds ATP and CFI certificates. He flies as a Boeing 737 captain for a major U.S. airline.
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