Hold On Real Tight
I’m fixing to hold on real tight.
What the captain had added after his initial announcement that we had lost the number two engine, the part that had got me to praying was when he said, “There is one complication. I’m sorry to report that the damage from the engine blowing has resulted in a total loss of all three hydraulic systems.”
A collective gasp of terror swept through the cabin. It included my own because I knew that the hydraulic systems were what they used to maneuver the plane. They controlled and moved the flaps, which were used to lower or gain altitude and make turns. They also controlled the raising and lowering of the wheels.
“We just passed over the airport in Jackson, Miss.,” the captain continued. “Since we can’t make a turn we’re going to attempt a landing at the Birmingham airport. I am still able to maneuver the aircraft, but only by using the thrust of the engines.”
His voice was steady and had a calming effect. I pictured him in my mind as being a veteran pilot, maybe even with a crew cut and wearing white socks. My thoughts were interrupted when he began giving instructions: “Please remain calm, buckle up real tight, follow the instructions of the crew, and I expect to have us on the ground in approximately 25 minutes.”
It was a rough ride after that because two or three times a minute the plane would surge and buck as the captain used the two remaining engines to stay on course.
During those last few minutes I realized that there was a good chance I wasn’t going to make it. I wasn’t a pilot, but I knew that it was almost impossible to land a big jet without hydraulics. The pilot would just have to aim the craft at full speed and basically, it would be a crash landing at about three times the speed of a normal one, with no wheels.
I began to remember all the things I should have done—the apologies which should have been made and the gratitude that should have been conveyed, and I was truly sorry. Maybe that was good enough. I hoped it was.
Finally, mercifully, the captain’s voice came over the intercom again and he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Birmingham Airport has assured us that the runway has been cleared and foamed and that emergency equipment is standing by to assist us. We’ll be touching down in two minutes.”
I thought he was finished, but then he added, “ This will definitely be the hardest landing you ever experienced. Good luck and we hope to see you on the ground.”
Up front the flight attendants were giving instructions on the leaning-forward position. Just as they finished I made eye contact with the one up the aisle from me. She was looking at me as if to ask, “What are you doing all the way back there?” She took a step toward me and I shook my head and waved her off.
I was afraid to do it, but I forced myself to look out the window. During a normal landing the plane just seemed to be floating along. Now, the ground was racing up toward us and I knew it was time to assume the position, but I could not tear my eyes away from the window. The plane was descending faster, faster, with treetops approaching. I saw the runway, but suddenly we were over the middle of it and in that split second I knew we had overshot it.
That pilot had been correct, the part about a hard landing. The impact caused a searing hot pain to shoot up my spine. Then we were sliding. I saw a high chain-link fence, and instantly it was gone. Still sliding, I saw a road and very large steel telephone pole. I knew we had hit it when I saw a great mass of white sparks and heard the screeching sound of tearing metal.
The collision lasted less than a second and suddenly my section, the rear of the plane was completely torn away and I could see spinning open space beyond the three rows of empty seats in front of me.
When I caught my last glance of the main section of the plane, as it sped away in another direction, I saw it begin to tumble as it burst into flames while I was fixing to keep on holding on real tight.