Jack beamed, surprised that he was able to talk his grandfather into it. Then a moment later he asked, “What’s endeavor mean?”
“What about you, Lucy?” asked Bill. “Do you guys want to toss a coin or something?”
“Uh, no, Grandpa. I think I’ll stay here on the ground until I know all the bugs are out of it,” said Lucy.
The startup and taxi out were agonizingly slow for Jack. He sat in the left seat itching to go, but his grandfather refused to be rushed as he checked and rechecked everything. Then just when Jack thought they were going to takeoff, his grandfather performed yet another check.
After an eternity for his grandson, Bill asked, “OK, Jack, are you all set?”
“Let’s do it, Grandpa,” he said with uninhibited excitement.
Bill added full takeoff power, but at the same time he held the brakes with all of his might. He was giving the little Continental engine one more opportunity to hiccup before they left the ground. The airplane shook wildly, as if it too wanted to get the show on the road. When Bill finally released the brakes, the red and white Cessna lunged forward.
The grass runway felt bumpy. Jack glanced out his side window and noticed that the left landing gear was bouncing to and fro. It jostled around so much, he wondered if they’d blown a tire. He looked around and saw the outline of trees everywhere. Everything seemed a blur.
The noise in the cockpit was louder than Jack had anticipated. He looked at his grandfather’s face for reassurance that all was normal. He then tried to focus on the instrument panel, but the faster the airplane went the more disorienting it all became. Things were happening much too rapidly for Jack to take in. It was his first airplane ride, and though he was primed to absorb as much as possible, a myriad of sights and sounds clamored for his attention. His mind was simply unable to process it all.
When his grandfather finally pulled the nose up to lift-off, the airplane seemed to go straight up. Jack instinctively covered his mouth, fearing he would get a second look at his lunch. At first, the little airplane seemed unstable, bobbing and weaving as it moved through the air. It took a little while for Jack to get used to the strange sensations.
The plan was to fly one square pattern around the runway at two thousand feet and then come right back down for landing. Once they were safely on the ground, they would shut ‘626 down and give it a good going over before trying it again.
As the airplane passed over Fords Pond, Jack looked down at the fishermen on the lake and the cars driving along the road in front of his grandfather’s farm. Everything looked strange. The people were the size of ants. Since it was the first time he’d viewed the Earth from two thousand feet up, Jack spent most of their ten minute flight gazing at the strange world around him. Part of him was frightened; though he didn’t dare admit it, not even to himself.
Jack’s grandfather lined the Cessna up on final approach, but Jack’s eyes could not pick out the runway. Everything on the ground looked the same. He asked his grandfather three times where it was, and was forced to look back and forth between the tip of his instructor’s finger and the strange world outside, until he finally managed to spot the narrow strip.
The young student pilot watched his grandfather manipulate the power and the flaps. And though he’d already had some basic instruction on how each knob, switch and gauge functioned, Jack felt utterly lost.
Jack watched with anxious anticipation as the Cessna inched closer to the ground. He wondered what would happen next and how it would feel when they hit.
Just when it looked like the Cessna was going to plow into the ground, his grandfather gently pulled the nose skyward.
The touchdown was much smoother than he anticipated. Jack looked at his grandfather with a smile that bubbled over with youthful enthusiasm. All of his fears were gone.
Bill returned his grandson’s smile, before turning his attention back to the job at hand.
A thousand words were exchanged in that one glance between the two, and stored as a memory that each would carry with him forever.
*
Later that afternoon, Jack was riding his bike along Fords Pond road when he saw John Tacker’s car approaching.
John stopped the car and rolled down his window. “Hi, Jack, how’s it going?”
“OK, Mr. Tacker. How are you doing?”
“Good, thank you,” he said. “I heard you folks running up the engine on the Cessna this morning.”
“Yeah, we sure did,” said Jack
“Is it ready to fly yet?” asked John.
Knowing there were bad feelings between his grandfather and John Tacker, Jack was unsure about how to answer. He knew the two had been the best of friends, but wasn’t exactly sure how they became enemies. He’d asked his grandfather about it a few times, but his replies always seemed vague.
“Tell me what happened, Grandpa?” Jack had asked.
“Oh, life I suppose,” said Bill.
“That doesn’t sound right,” noted Jack.
“People view the world differently, Jack. Nine people will see a blue sky, but there’s always one person who will swear it’s green. John is one of those people who see green,” observed Bill.
His grandfather’s words made no sense whatsoever. He initially wondered if Mr. Tacker was colorblind, but decided against asking for clarification. During another conversation, Jack asked, “Did you really kill his wife?”
“Well, I had a hand in it I suppose. It was unintentional; it just sort of happened. Not much I can do about it now,” said Bill.
Jack always wanted to delve further into those subjects, but was forced to back off, sensing the tension his questions created. Each time, he’d tell himself to wait until the next time they were alone.
One of the quirks of Jack’s personality was his complete inability to lie. Standing beside John Tacker’s car in the middle of the road, the young man was in a quandary. He didn’t think it was wise to tell Mr. Tacker that they’d flown the airplane earlier that day, but neither could he lie. He looked at his feet, unable to find a solution.
“What? Did it spring a leak or something?” asked John with a sly smile.
“No, the engine runs really good,” said Jack. Then, having figured out a way to deflect John’s question, Jack added, “I think Lucy might take it up with my grandfather tomorrow.”
“Well, you know it’s illegal for you to fly that airplane out of your yard, don’t you?” asked John.
“My grandfather knows all about that stuff. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do anything illegal,” said Jack.
“Jack, I used to work for the FAA, and I can tell you that he has to get permission to fly that airplane.”
“The F.A. what?”
“The FAA: Federal Aviation Administration. Their job is to license pilots, airports and airplanes. If your grandfather wants to fly out of his backyard, then he’s going to have to get permission,” said John.
“Well, I guess he knows that.”
“I hope so,” said John. “I would hate to see you kids get in trouble with the law.”
Jack may have been young, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t perceptive. He sensed John was up to no good. He sort of liked John, waving and smiling at him whenever he saw him driving down the road, but decided he’d better play it safe and inform his grandfather that John was asking questions.
“I should get home now. Have a nice day, Mr. Tacker,” said Jack, as he turned and pedaled down the road.
“You too, Jack,” said John. “Don’t let your grandfather talk you into doing something you’ll regret,” he added, knowing regret was something he knew a whole lot about.
Nineteen
When he heard one of the propellers go out of sync, Mark Small told himself to remain calm--that the pilots knew what they were doing. The turbulence was gone so there was nothing to worry about. He closed his eyes and sat back, but his ears remained as focused as ever.
*
Charles studied the gauges and was
stunned by what he saw. “Shut down and feather number two, Lars, but hold off on three,” he ordered, with a very slight hint of fear in his voice. He was well-aware that the number three engine was also going to have to be shutdown, and very soon. But Charles also knew that the number three engine was a main supplier of electricity and hydraulic pressure for the aircraft and preferred to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. He studied the number four engine gauges intently. He sighed, grateful that its oil temperature was holding firmly in the green.
As Lars worked, he said, “Captain, we have to shut down number three now.”
“Hold on there, young man, we’re almost out of engines,” said Charles, his voice tight. He scanned the panel while racking his brain, trying desperately to understand how three engines could all suffer the same malady at the same time. It was not a coincidence.
“John,” ordered Charles, “take the airplane. Start a gentle turn back toward the coast and hold altitude for as long as possible. Don’t let it stall. When you get slow, descend at the best glide speed.”
“Charles, there is no way you’re going to get this thing on the runway at KEF; not with three engines out. Hell, I don’t think we’ll even be able to make the coast from here at this weight. And even if we could make KEF, the moment we descend into the turbulence this airplane will become uncontrollable!”
“I know, John. I want you to get us close enough to ditch,” said Charles somberly.
*
When Mark looked out the window and saw that both propellers on the left wing were no longer turning and that the noise and vibration in the cabin had been cut in half, he screamed, “Oh my word, all the engines are failing! They must have forgotten to get gas. Our engines are running out of gas! Oh my, I can’t swim! I can’t swim!”
Sue Gruber quickly ran to Mark’s side and said in a soothing voice, “Please, Mr. Small, we aren’t going to land in the water. I’m sure the pilots have everything well in hand. Look, we still have two good engines.”
As the words left the stewardess’s lips, the number three engine fell silent. And a very brief moment later, the number three propeller feathered itself and stopped dead. With only the number four engine turning far out on the right wing, the stillness in the cabin became deafening. A handful of heartbeats later, the interior lights went out. The entire cabin of the DC6 was plunged suddenly into a blackness as dark as the ocean below!
Pushing Sue aside, Mark yelled, “Oh my, oh my!” He put his hands over his face and rocked back and forth, completely overcome with terror. He tried to think of automobile engines, but there wasn’t a piston or a crankshaft to be found.
With his eyes locked shut, Mark could see his own face peering out the small square window next to his seat. It was almost as if he was suspended in the clouds outside of the airplane, watching the action from a safe distance. He felt pity for all those on board, including himself. He looked on as the stricken airplane plunged vertically into the icy sea. He tried to imagine how it would feel when the frigid, salty water smashed against his body. He could almost taste the salt from the ocean on his lips. The horrifying images forced him to flinch. He flung his eyes open as wide as they would go, but all Mark could see was his own death approaching rapidly.
*
John quickly dialed in the emergency frequency on his number two radio. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, Clipper forty-two is fifty-seven miles south of the Keflavik VOR descending out of ten thousand feet. We have a triple engine failure and we are descending toward the coast on the kilo echo foxtrot, one six zero radial, over,” said John in a calm, professional voice.
“Watch your speed, John,” ordered the Captain. “Don’t try to stretch the glide.”
“Sorry, Charles, I got distracted when I tuned the radio,” said John, as he repositioned his flashlight to focus the beam on his airspeed indicator in the otherwise dark cockpit.
“Turn about thirty degrees to the left. We might be able to make a small island off the coast,” said Charles.
“OK, Charles. I’ll keep the bank shallow, but you’ll have to help me find it when we get below the clouds,” said John.
“Lars, you keep working on securing the engines while I start the ditching checklist,” said Charles.
“Roger,” replied Lars while his hands skimmed over the various panels, resetting switches he could only see in his memory.
With flashlight in hand, Charles calmly and deliberately read through the ditching checklist. Working together with his flight engineer, they activated or deactivated various systems and onboard equipment. While he worked, the experienced captain continued to rack his brain for answers.
“John, try about a two-ninety heading. When you get below the clouds, I’ll take over. We need to preserve battery power, so I’ve turned everything off that we don’t need. If we don’t see the island, when we get down to two hundred feet go ahead and turn on the landing lights. We’ll make our assessment of the sea at that time. That should give us a little maneuvering room,” stated the captain. Then after a brief pause, he added in a much louder voice, “You men refresh your minds and remember your duties. We won’t have a second chance.”
Both Lars and John mumbled their replies.
They all knew that if they somehow managed to survive a ditching in the North Atlantic, they would not last very long in the water. It was imperative that each crew member allow their training to take over so as to keep panic at bay while trying to get everyone into a raft. Every second would count.
When he didn’t get a response from the rest of his cockpit crew, Charles turned to face the black void behind him. He shined his flashlight and realized right away that Ed and G.R. were gone!
*
G.R., who had been sitting on the bunk, jumped up when he heard the number three propeller go into feather. Without being told, he and Ed immediately proceeded to the cabin to prepare everyone for a ditching. They were in the darkened cabin for only a minute when G.R. paused. Something inside told him to stop what he was doing and think--to use his head.
*
John held the best glide speed with as much precision as possible. He would not allow himself to think about death. He knew it was possible, but like most pilots, John refused to believe that his demise was imminent. And if it was, he resolved in his mind to fight the Angel of Death until he could fight no more. He looked down at the white caps, shimmering like diamonds in the moonlight. It all looked so incredibly cold.
*
G.R. closed his eyes to the darkness and quickly ran something through his mind. A moment later, he turned and ran back to the cockpit. Before opening the door, G.R. turned and yelled into the darkness, “Hold off a second, Ed!”
*
“John, did you dilute the oil?” asked Charles.
John turned to Lars and asked, “Did you, Lars?” Knowing he’d reminded the flight engineer to do that very thing.
Lars, though busy flipping switches and turning knobs, while desperately trying to recall each step of the emergency checklist, looked up with a dazed expression and said, “Uh, no. I guess I forgot.”
G.R. stumbled into the shadowy cockpit with his flashlight off, hoping to preserve the night vision of both pilots. When he reached the captain’s side, he felt for the switches on the overhead panel with his hand and exclaimed, “That’s it!”
Moving as rapidly as possible, the senior engineer repositioned the engine oil cooling door switches. He moved them out of the auto position and placed them in manual. He then ran the cooling doors to the fully closed position.
“What are you doing, G.R?” asked Charles.
“It dawned on me that we don’t normally operate on the ground in such frigid outside air temperatures. Since we always leave the oil cooling doors in the auto position and dilute the oil when it’s cold outside, we never have a problem. That’s if the oil gets diluted,” he said. “OK, Lars, go ahead and crank number one.”
As Lars worked, G.R. continued, “I figured the onl
y way that three engines could have high oil temps at the same time is if the oil coolers were being bypassed. Since the sensor is downstream of the cooler, it makes sense that all of the oil is congealed there.”
“But wouldn’t you open the doors to cool the oil since the temperature is so high?” asked John. “Closing them seems counterintuitive.”
Lars managed to get the number one engine restarted and proceeded to start the other two without being told.
“No, a bunch of oil has congealed in the cooling radiators, leaving only a very limited amount of warm oil to circulate via the bypass. It doesn’t take long at takeoff and climb power to get the oil really hot. When I close the cooling doors, the combination of lack of cooling flow and hot engine oil will drop the temperatures rapidly--just watch,” he said. “Hot oil is now being forced into the radiator and mixing with the thick gooey stuff. Meanwhile, the frigid outside air is being blocked, thereby preventing the oil from cooling too fast.”
“How come number four didn’t suffer the same affliction?” asked Charles.
“Maybe because you ran that one on the ground for a while to get some heat, or perhaps it’s because you just live right, captain,” replied G.R.
In a very short time, the oil temperatures on the three engines dropped to the bottom of the green arc. Not long afterward, Lars had all four engines purring like a kitten. The crew then worked together resetting the various systems and radios. As they worked, the atmosphere in the cockpit remained nearly as thick as the oil in the engines.
Lars wanted to apologize to his colleagues right away. He was also hoping that John wouldn’t be forced to absorb the blame for yet another error. But after debating it in his mind, Lars wisely decided to wait until a more appropriate moment to seek forgiveness.
Sojourners of the Sky Page 16