the plane was turning on its own, to the west, and so a decision was made to send it to Sioux City Gateway Airport. “I’m not going to kid you,” Captain Haynes told the passengers. “It’s going to be a very hard landing.”
The cockpit voice recorder captured both the collaborative professionalism and the poignant camaraderie that eased their tension.
At one point, Dennis Fitch said, “I’ll tell you what, we’ll have a beer when this is all done.”
Captain Haynes replied: “Well, I don’t drink, but I’ll sure as hell have one.”
They approached the airport at a speed of 215 knots, descending at 1,600 feet per minute, as they tried to slow down by raising the nose. The pilots did a remarkable job of touching down near the beginning of the runway. It looked like they might make it.
Then the right wing struck the runway. Witnesses said the aircraft cartwheeled as it broke apart and into flames. There were 111 fatalities—some on impact, others from smoke inhalation—but 185 people survived that day because of the masterful work of Captain Haynes and his crew. (Though there were serious injuries, everyone in the cockpit lived.) An investigation later determined that a fatigue crack caused a fracture of the fan disk in the center engine.
In CRM training, Flight 232 is considered one of the best examples of a captain leading a team effort while being ultimately responsible for the decisions and the outcome. Captain Haynes turned to all the resources at his disposal on a plane in great jeopardy. Given what his crew was up against, this could well have been a crash with no survivors. Their work in the cockpit will be studied for generations.
I was honored to be contacted by Captain Haynes after my experience on Flight 1549. He has spent much of his life since the Sioux City accident speaking about it around the world. He has made more than 1,500 speeches, donating his fees or speaking pro bono. He talks about what the rest of us might learn from his experiences that day, focusing on the importance of communication, preparation, execution, cooperation, and the word he uses, “luck.” He also talks about the sadness that he’ll never shake regarding those on the plane who didn’t make it.
He told me these speeches, which he dedicates to those who died on his flight, have been therapeutic for him. Speaking about safety issues has helped him cope with survivor’s guilt. “My job was to get people from Point A to Point B safely,” he said. “For a while afterward, I felt I didn’t do my job.”
Captain Haynes, now seventy-seven, was my age, fifty-eight, on the day of the Sioux City accident. He told me that beyond what his crew did, there were other favorable factors that saved lives: It was a clear day without much wind. The Iowa Air National Guard happened to be on duty there and rushed to help. Rescue crews had recently received training for handling the crash of a large jet. And just when his plane hit, both hospitals in town were in the middle of a shift change, meaning twice the medical personnel were available to treat the many injured survivors, including Captain Haynes. He was brought to the hospital with a head injury that required ninety-two stitches. He had a concussion and his left ear was almost cut off.
So many people involved that day stepped up aggressively to do what needed to be done. I always keep in mind a remark made by the fire chief at the Sioux City airport: “Either you manage the situation, or the situation will manage you.”
In the years after the accident, Captain Haynes lost his oldest son in a motorcycle crash. His wife died of a rare infection. Then his daughter needed a bone marrow transplant. But, through all of this, he was buoyed to learn that his efforts on Flight 232 were not forgotten. When insurance wouldn’t fully cover his daughter’s procedure, hundreds of people, including survivors of the Sioux City crash, donated more than $500,000. His daughter even received donations from families who lost loved ones on Flight 232.
Captain Haynes told me he has continually seen the good in people, and they have helped him make peace with what he was able to do that day in 1989—and what he couldn’t do. Understandably, he has wondered what would have happened if his crew could have kept the wings level and landed flat. But even had they been able to do that, the plane might have hit the runway and exploded.
When we talked a few weeks after Flight 1549, Captain Haynes told me to be prepared for some anxious thoughts. “I’m sure you’ll feel there’s something more you could have done,” he said. “Everybody second-guesses themselves. We did, too, for a while. And then we decided there was nothing else we could have done.” He had read a great deal about my flight, and told me he agreed with the decisions Jeff and I made in the cockpit. This meant a lot to me.
He also said that after Flight 1549, a few passengers from his flight got in touch with him, just to touch base and commiserate. Airline accidents are always reminders of past airline accidents. “It brought back memories for all of us,” Captain Haynes told me.
He said he felt a kinship with me, given the traumas associated with both of our flights, and the ways in which we were tested. We talked of how we’re members of a select group now. And then he gave me advice: “Wait until you’re ready, and then go back to work. You’re a pilot. You should be flying.”
IN CRM training, we also taught the details about United Airlines Flight 811, bound from Honolulu to Auckland, New Zealand, on February 24, 1989. It was a Boeing 747–122 with 337 passengers and a crew of eighteen.
At about 2:08 A.M., sixteen minutes after taking off from Honolulu, the forward cargo door blew out. The floor in the passenger cabin, above the door, caved in because of the change in pressure, and five rows of seats with nine passengers were sucked out of the jet and fell into the Pacific below. A huge hole was left in the cabin, and two of the engines were in flames, severely damaged by debris ejected from the plane during the incident.
The pilots, who had been climbing to just over twenty-two thousand feet, decided to make a 180-degree turn. Their hope was to make it back to Honolulu, seventy-two miles behind them. It would be a terrifying ride for passengers, as debris and baggage from damaged overhead bins swirled through the cabin. Some said it felt like a tornado.
Captain Dave Cronin, First Officer Al Slader, and Second Officer Randal Thomas knew that this emergency involved much more than just a loss of cabin pressurization. It also involved engine failures. With half their engines out, they had difficulty maintaining altitude that would be needed to make it back to Honolulu.
Slader used the fuel control switches to shut off the two engines, but opted not to pull the engine fire shutoff handles, which were designed to prevent further fires. He was procedurally required to pull those handles when engines are severely damaged, but he realized if he did so, two hydraulic pumps would be lost, which would affect the crew’s ability to maintain control of the aircraft. So he did not pull them.
The pilots dumped fuel to make the plane lighter. The flight attendants had passengers put on life jackets and then told them to “Brace!” After landing, fire trucks put out the flames. Though 9 people had died in the wake of the cargo door explosion, 346 people survived the flight.
An investigation determined that the cause was a faulty switch or wiring in the cargo door control system, and problems with the design of the cargo door.
The crew acted heroically because they knew, from their deep knowledge of the systems on that plane, that they would have to improvise and modify procedures in order to deal with this unexpected emergency. They acted bravely in getting the plane safely to the ground.
As I studied that accident, I filed away the fact that I might one day have to rely on my systems knowledge, not only on a checklist. Not every situation can be foreseen or anticipated. There isn’t a checklist for everything.
I’VE COME across a number of people over the years who think that modern airplanes, with all their technology and automation, can almost fly themselves.
That’s simply not true. Automation can lower the workload in some cases. But in other situations, using automation when it is not appropriate can increase one’s workload. A pilot has to know how to use a level of automation that is appropriate.
I have long been an admirer of Earl Wiener, Ph.D., a former Air Force pilot who is now retired from the University of Miami’s department of management science. He is renowned for his work in helping us understand aviation safety.
He once told me about an appearance he made at a forum in which another speaker’s topic was “the role of the pilot in the automated cockpit.” When it was Dr. Wiener’s turn to speak, he noted, wryly but rightly, that the session should have been called “the role of automation in the piloted cockpit.”
