Quiet birdmen

After offloading, probably around 100,000 pounds of jet fuel, we said good bye to our friends and headed back to Okinawa. That was 1969 during the Vietnam War and my crew was qualified to lead the formation, which meant that I was flying the front aircraft of a three-ship cell.

Now when one thinks of airplanes flying in formation we think of fighters tucked in close together as the Thunderbirds do in their air shows around the country each summer. Tankers don't do that close-in, wing-tip-to-wing-tip stuff. We fly with a half mile distance between our nose and the tanker ahead. The lead tanker flies a constant altitude; the one behind him stacks up 500 feet higher and the next again 500 feet higher. If the weather is clear one "station keeps" by eyeball and in the clouds we use the radar to keep our distance. Well, in SAC we called it formation flying but our fighter pilot friends just laugh at us for using the term.

That morning out over the Pacific we were headed east at 40,000 feet in absolutely smooth air. The radio was silent, our cell mates were tucked in behind us and in that vast area there was no air traffic control, so no radio chatter. "George" the autopilot was doing his usual masterful job of flying the aircraft and only needed to be monitored. The comforting muted sounds of our jet engines and wind noise past the cockpit was all normal. It was 50 degrees below zero just outside, but hot bleed air from the engines made the cabin comfortable. Then comes a truly gorgeous sunrise shining directly into our face. The ingredients were all there to tell our daytime-loving bodies that it was time to take a nap.

Now I had worked out an agreement with my copilot that either he or I could catch 40 winks during such times. It was imperative that one of us be alert while the other slept. It was my turn. Larry was watching things, and I enjoyed a delicious short nap.

Slowly I awakened and peeked over at my copilot. Horrors! He, too, had dozed off and no one was watching the store. This was the second time that I had caught him. Instantly awake, I waved at my navigator and boom operator strapped in at their crew stations behind us, signaling them to hang on. Then I silently moved the switches to disengage the autopilot and pushed the nose over to cause "zero g" weightlessness.

Have you ever held a cat upside down and dropped it? Cats possess an unerring ability to twist around and always land harmlessly on their feet. Well, I can attest that humans do the same thing. Weightless Larry flailed both hands and feet to right himself, although he was still securely strapped in his seat.

Talk about instant mad! I napped no more while flying with that particular copilot. Larry, by the way, left the Air Force not long afterwards to fly with the airlines.

Last Thursday, Oct. 22, Northwest Airlines Flight 188 flew right over McCook at 37,000 feet, destination Minneapolis, Minn.. Between McCook and Kearney, air traffic control responsibility passes from Denver Center to Minneapolis Center. The normal procedure goes something like this: "Northwest Flight 188, Denver Center, contact Minneapolis Center on 119.4." One of the pilots should have responded, "Minneapolis 119.4, Flight 188."

Didn't happen! In fact it was an hour later, 150 miles beyond their destination that the pilots of Flight 188 finally responded to air traffic control and returned to land at Minneapolis-St. Paul International /Wold-Chamberlain Airport. Great airplane, that Airbus, fully automated, great autopilot, just not programmed to descend and land by itself.

Hmmm, what happened? We can rule out my old copilot Larry from flying that airliner, as he has retired by now! Nobody on the ground or in the air was able to raise Flight 188 by radio. Even the hostesses were unable to open the cockpit door, locked since 9-11, to check on the pilots. Who made that rule anyhow? We military aircrew carried sidearms, our passengers knew it, and we never locked our doors. I have yet to hear of a hijacked military flight!

Pilots of course are infallible, just like thee and me as we drive the interstate highways. I wonder how many lives the new rumble strips have saved when sleepy drivers awaken upon hearing that obnoxious sound of tires treading upon them? Hmm!

That is the way I saw it.