they protested with sickening sounds that an engine should never make. We clearly heard the
The biggest surprise for me, listening to the tape, was how fast everything happened. The entire flight was five minutes and eight seconds long. The first minute and forty seconds were uneventful. Then, from the moment I said, “Birds!” until we approached the water and I said, “We’re gonna brace!” just three minutes and twenty-eight seconds had passed. That’s less time than it takes me to brush my teeth and shave.
The whole incident took a bit longer in my memory. Yes, I knew and felt all along that things happened fast. But in my recollections, it was as if I had a little more time to think, to decide, to act—even if it was abbreviated.
Listening to the tape, however, I realized that everything really happened in 208 extraordinarily time- compressed seconds. Frankly, it was beyond belief. Beyond extreme. It was overwhelming. It took me right back to the moment. I didn’t tear up, but I know there were muscle changes in my face as I listened. It was surprising and emotional for Jeff, too.
Somehow, time must have slowed down in my head that day. It’s not as if everything was in slow motion. It’s just that, in my memory, it didn’t feel as incredibly fast as the tape made obvious that it was.
There are different microphones in the cockpit, which can pick up voices, noises, warning chimes, and radio transmissions, including those from other planes. The NTSB was able to play back whatever was picked up by each microphone, one at a time, so we could isolate certain sounds and hear things that were at first masked by louder sounds. The investigators asked us to explain sounds or snippets of conversation that weren’t clear on the tape.
I was very happy with how Jeff and I sounded on the tape, and how we handled ourselves individually and as a team. We did not sound confused and overwhelmed. We sounded busy. I’ve read many transcripts of accidents over the last thirty years, and this one sounded really good in terms of our competence.
Jeff and I had met just three days before we flew Flight 1549. Yet during this dire emergency—with no time to verbalize every action and discuss our situation—we communicated extraordinarily well. Thanks to our training, and our immediate observations in the moment of crisis, each of us understood the situation, knew what needed to be done, and had already begun doing our parts in an urgent yet cooperative fashion.
Departure control (3:28:31):
Sullenberger on radio (3:28:35):
Traffic Collision Avoidance System in cockpit—synthetic voice oral warning (3:28:36):
Departure control (3:28:36):
Predictive Windshear System synthetic voice (3:28:45):
Skiles (3:28:45):
Skiles (3:29:00):
Sullenberger (3:29:11):
Forty-four more seconds passed, with Jeff and me engaged in challenge-and-response as we went through the checklist while listening to both Patrick the controller and the repetitive chimes of the flight warning computer.
Enhanced Ground Proximity Warning System synthetic voice (3:29:55):
Skiles (3:30:01):
Skiles (3:30:03):
As I listened to the recording, I saw clearly that Jeff was doing exactly the right things at exactly the right moments. He knew intuitively that because of our short time remaining before landing and our proximity to the surface, he needed to shift his priorities. Without me asking, he began to call out to me the altitude above the surface and the airspeed.
Enhanced Ground Proximity Warning System synthetic voice (3:30:24): “
Sullenberger (3:30:38): “
It was awful and beautiful at the same time.
Jeff and I had found ourselves in a crucible, a cacophony of automated warnings, synthetic voices, repetitive chimes, radio calls, traffic alerts, and ground proximity warnings. Through it all, we had to maintain control of the airplane, analyze the situation, take step-by-step action, and make critical decisions without being distracted or panicking. It sounded as if our world was ending, and yet our crew coordination was beautiful. I was very proud of what we were able to accomplish.
After Jeff and I heard the recording for the first time with the NTSB investigators, we excused ourselves to go to the men’s room. We would have to listen to the tape several more times on this day, but I think we both wanted a break before we did that.
As we walked down the hallway of this old government office building, I turned to Jeff and asked, “What did you think?”
Before he could answer, I felt a need to say something. “I’ll tell you what I think,” I told him. “I’m so proud of you. Within seconds of me calling for the checklist, you had it out, you found the right page, you had begun reading it. And you were right there with me, step-by-step, challenge-and-response, through all of those distractions. We did this together.”
In the media, I’d gotten most of the credit for Flight 1549. “I don’t care what anybody says,” I told Jeff. “We were a team.”
He looked at me, and I saw tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. I was a bit choked up myself. We hugged, then stood together for a moment in that hallway, not saying anything. We were two men who’d been through something extraordinary together and couldn’t find the words to fully capture it.
Eventually, we made our way back to the CVR lab, where we joined the investigators and listened to the cockpit recording again and again.
WHEN KELLY was very young, she once asked me, “What’s the best job in the world?”
My answer to her was this: “It’s the job you would do even if you didn’t have to.” It’s so important for people to find jobs suited to their strengths and their passions. People who love their jobs work more diligently at them. They become more adept at the intricacies of their duties. They serve the world well.
On January 14, 2009, my life had been a series of thoughtful opportunities to be the best pilot, leader, and teammate I could be. I was an anonymous, regular guy—a husband, a father, a US Airways pilot. On January 15, circumstances changed everything, a reminder that none of us ever knows what tomorrow will bring.
I flew thousands of flights in the last forty-two years, but my entire career is now being judged by how I performed on one of them. This has been a reminder to me: We need to try to do the right thing every time, to perform at our best, because we never know which moment in our lives we’ll be judged on.
