The Last Flight

by Liefer, Gregory P. ; Liefer, G P;

  “Another woman from the back is pretty traumatized. From what I can get out of her, she was traveling with two friends. They were both killed in the crash. She’s in shock and doesn’t seem to comprehend their deaths. I got her name as Rosa before she started weeping again. She’s outside now.”

  Sanders took a deep breath. “Is she okay with the others?”

  “Yes, I think so. Susan and the girls are keeping an eye on her, providing comfort as best they can. As for the rest, there are a few minor sprains and abrasions but nothing too serious. Most are handling it well. A few have been asking about a rescue.”

  She was hoping for a positive response but instead saw a resigned look on his face. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Sanders didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a few seconds and carefully scanned the dark clouds moving lower over the western sky.

  “We might be here for more than a few hours, maybe even a few days.”

  “What do you mean?” Mildred gasped in reply. “Rescuers are coming, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know when,” Sanders said solemnly. He pointed to the approaching storm so she could see what he was concerned about.

  “Our aircraft has an emergency transmitter that has been sending out an electronic distress signal repeatedly since we crashed. Rescue services are sure to have been notified, but it could be several hours before our position is pinpointed and anyone arrives. Unfortunately, that nasty storm might arrive before then. Any chance of a rescue will be delayed until the storm passes, and it could take days.”

  “Oh my God! Are you sure? What will we do?”

  “For now let’s get everyone inside. It’s time I told the others.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “We should be over the foothills in a few minutes,” announced Shultz, studying the horizon. “If Operations doesn’t call by then, I’ll try to make contact. Another fix from the satellite would be nice before we begin a search.”

  “Roger that,” Ferguson answered. He watched the heavier clouds filter across the line of rugged mountains and sensed more than felt a change in the wind velocity. A quick glance at ground speed on the GPS verified the winds were intensifying.

  “Looks like we picked up a stronger headwind.”

  Shultz had been expecting the increase. “We’re in for a bumpy ride. The winds pushing those clouds don’t look very friendly. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to earn our pay today.”

  “Just another day, flying the Army way,” Bril added. He always seemed ready with a quick comment.

  Steiner looked over at Bril and shook his head before responding. “Just another day in paradise, right?”

  “You got that right. I’m not complaining. Three more months until sun and guns in the land of the righteous.”

  “Don’t you mean unrighteous?” Steiner could tell Bril was baiting him. He couldn’t resist. “You turning raghead on us?”

  Bril held a somber expression. “Muslims have done great things in history. Granted, most were over a thousand years ago, but in recent history the radical sect we know as the Taliban actually invented condoms by using the lower intestines of goats.”

  Steiner was skeptical. He let Bril continue without comment, expecting a punch line.

  “Of course, Western society improved on the invention by removing the intestines from the goats first.”

  The crew had a good laugh. Even Bril broke a wide smile at his own joke. Steiner wiped his eyes and started chuckling again.

  Shultz listened to the exchange and recalled his two previous deployments. His thoughts became serious again. The first was during the Gulf War and the second a decade later in central Iraq. He wasn’t looking forward to a third tour in the Sand Box but knew another deployment was inevitable.

  Both Steiner and Ferguson had experienced war but not Bril. His casual attitude reflected his inexperience.

  Shultz knew Bril was only being his usual self, but he wanted to keep everyone focused on the mission. When he spoke, his voice sounded harsher than intended. “Stay sharp guys. We might not be taking enemy fire, but this won’t be a cakewalk either.”

  Ferguson momentarily shifted his eyes toward Shultz. What he said was true. They were all experienced enough not to be offended by the comment.

  Steiner hesitated then keyed his mike switch. He knew Shultz was confident in their ability, as they were in his. “We’re ready, sir. We aren’t taking anything for granted.”

  “That’s right, sir,” added Bril. He looked serious but winked mischievously at Steiner, who was looking at him from the other rear-facing seat. “If the mission was easy they’d send a contingent from the United Nations.”

  “Or the French,” piped in Ferguson after a brief chuckle.

  A smile etched the corners of Shultz’s mouth. He was about to respond but turned and glanced in back where Bril was seated, not surprised to see him staring blankly out the window.

  The first jolts of turbulence began hitting the helicopter a mile from the foothills. Light in intensity and gaining in frequency, they gave a clear indication of what was ahead. The path of the helicopter changed a few degrees each time but quickly recovered with almost imperceptible inputs from Ferguson. Simultaneously, he adjusted for a higher altitude above the rising terrain, maintaining a slow climb through three thousand, then four thousand feet.

  Looking up from the sectional chart spread on his lap, Shultz pointed through the windshield in the direction they were heading. “Level at forty-five hundred and follow the larger drainage opening up ahead to the southeast. In about another twenty miles, it’ll hook southwest into the deeper mountains. Once we get around the corner, we should be able to see the face of the glacier.”

  Ferguson couldn’t help but notice the wide drainage of intersecting creeks flowing into the larger fork of the river. Across his field of view, lesser streams branched from the soaring mountains like cracks in a pane of glass. He was captivated by the chiseled beauty—the hidden dangers as yet unfamiliar to him.

  “Man, what an awesome sight. I always imagined flying in Alaska would be like this.”

  Shultz was equally impressed with the scenery. Even though he had flown missions and training flights in the mountains, the view never grew old. He shifted his vision across the instruments panel, then outside again for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  “We certainly have the best seats. I’ve flown in the Rocky Mountains and the European Alps, and both pale in comparison. Flying doesn’t get any better than this.”

  Ferguson nodded in reply as Steiner and Bril remained silent in back, content while enjoying the view. Passing the first set of foothills, he noted the time on the digital clock, satisfied with their progress. He wondered if Shultz was going to make the radio call to Operations as intended. He thought about asking and instead decided to wait a few more minutes.

  On cue, as if reading Ferguson’s mind, Shultz reached for the radio switch on the center console.

  “Flight Ops, Evac one-one-four, over?”

  There was a lengthy pause before a slightly garbled voice answered. “Evac one-one-four, this is Flight Operations. Go ahead, over.”

  Shultz motioned for Ferguson to climb higher with a quick hand gesture. “Standby, Operations.”

  The helicopter immediately began increasing altitude as Ferguson adjusted the controls. Shultz waited as they gained several hundred feet before trying again.

  “Operations, Evac one-one-four. Any further information on the ELT signal?”

  “Evac one-one-four, that’s affirmative. We received an update a few minutes ago. A fourth fix was plotted by the RCC about a mile from the others. The location places the signal further south on the east side of the glacier. I have the coordinates and additional information when you’re ready to copy, over.”

  Shultz held a pencil over the pad of paper on his kneeboard. “Ready to copy. Go ahead Ops.”

  “Roger, Evac one-one-four. Coordina
tes are as follows…”

  The tone of the transmission grew clearer as Shultz copied the new figures. Ferguson leveled the helicopter at fifty-five hundred, following the drainage south.

  After writing the coordinates, Shultz repeated them back for clarification. Satisfied they were correct, he continued.

  “Go ahead with additional information.”

  “Evac one-one-four, it looks like you might have a real rescue on your hands. We received a report from the RCC and another from Fairbanks Flight Service moments before you called. A Northern Mountain Air commuter plane with twenty-one people aboard is missing on a flight from Gulkana. Their last position report was almost an hour ago. At the time, the flight was diverting off the airway south of Big Delta. The pilot canceled their instrument flight clearance, apparently for sightseeing over the Alaska Range before continuing into Fairbanks. Air Traffic Control has been unable to establish contact. The plane’s route would have placed it in the vicinity of the ELT signal, over.”

  Shultz exchanged a serious look with Ferguson before keying the intercom. “Sergeant Steiner, Bril, you monitor?”

  “Yes, sir.” Their voices were crisp and alert.

  “Good. We’ve got about ten minutes until we get in the area. I hope to hell we find them.”

  He didn’t wait for a response from the crew. “I copy, Operations. Our position is approximately twenty-two miles north of the last set of coordinates. Should be in position to initiate a search in the next ten minutes. Do you have a description of the aircraft or further information, over?”

  “Evac one-one-four, roger. The plane is a twin-engine turboprop. It has a low wing configuration with a T-tail and is painted white with a red accent stripe below the windows. The company name should be visible on both sides of the rear fuselage. Two pilots and nineteen passengers are aboard. Some cargo, but we don’t have specific details, over.”

  “Ops, have you notified the standby crew yet?”

  “Affirmative, one-one-four. They’re being called as we speak. You’re probably looking at around two hours before they arrive in your area. The Civilian Air Patrol at Eielson has been notified. The RCC was coordinating and advised no aircrews are available until this afternoon. The Air Guard’s C-130s in Anchorage were also notified, but their aircraft are committed on another mission.”

  Shultz expressed a look of irritation. Success would depend on them alone. With the approaching weather, time was critical, and as the only rescue aircraft available, there was no room for mistakes. He knew his crew was prepared but didn’t want any doubts distracting them. His voice was confident and reassuring, hiding a troubled feeling they were getting into a situation more dangerous than any of them could imagine.

  “We copy, Ops. Sounds like we’ll be on our own awhile. Any weather updates? It looks like the bad stuff is moving in rapidly. The way the storm’s developing, we might have a narrow window to rescue survivors, over.”

  “Standby, one-one-four.” A lengthy pause ensued before Sergeant Donovan answered.

  “Evac one-one-four, no new updates on the weather. Flight Service did request a confirmation on the missing commuter plane if you can locate it. There’s still a possibility the ELT signal might be from another source, over.”

  “Roger, will do. We’re entering the higher mountains now. We’ll attempt contact again in another hour or after confirming the source of the signal.”

  “Evac one-one-four, good copy. We’re standing by. Good luck. Operations out.”

  “Damn! Twenty-one people,” Steiner stated. “This is going to be a long day.”

  “Probably so,” Shultz responded. “Provided the ELT signal is from the missing plane. If we find survivors, we’ll have to haul them out in shifts. Plus, the weather is going to be a limiting factor. We might only have an hour or two before the weather closes in, so there isn’t enough time to run back and forth to Fairbanks with each load. You’re the boss when it comes to the patients, Sergeant Steiner. Any suggestions?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been running the numbers in my head. Depends on how fast we can get them inside the helicopter. The critically injured need to go first. I’ll make a medical assessment on the ground. If Bril and either you or Mister Ferguson can help me, it will speed things up. We’ll be able to load them quicker.”

  “Not a problem as long as we can find a place to land. Otherwise, we’ll have to use the hoist.”

  Steiner turned sideways in his seat. “Then I’ll go down first and do what I can.”

  “What about setting up a relay point somewhere close?” Ferguson asked. “We can move the survivors to a safe area close by and still be in position to transport them out of the mountains. The narrow time constraint won’t be as critical.”

  Shultz thought for a moment. “It could work. Good idea. But only as a last resort. Once we pick them up, we’re responsible for them. I don’t want to drop off passengers in the middle of nowhere without shelter and provisions unless we have to. If we can’t get back to them, they might be in a worse situation than before.”

  “I agree. But a nearby landing site might make a difference,” Steiner stated. “If nothing else, moving them can buy time until our other helicopter arrives. Sure wish I had grabbed more gear before we left. Extra blankets and rations might come in handy.”

  “What we have onboard will have to do,” Shultz stated. “I’ll have Ops tell the backup crew to load extra kits from the supply locker.”

  Bril had been surprisingly silent, busy with his own thoughts. He was the first to hear a faint beeping through the background static of the VHF radio, and at first didn’t associate the noise with a distress signal. His hearing was better than the others, due more to having spent less time around helicopters, than because of his youth. Several seconds passed before he realized what the sound actually was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I’m picking up a signal over the radio,” Bril announced excitedly. “Sounds like an ELT, but the static is making the tone hard to distinguish.”

  Silence ensued as the others listened intently. Shultz turned up the volume on the VHF radio.

  “I hear it now. Good ears Bril.” Shultz fiddled with the volume again. “The signal should intensify as we near the glacier.”

  “You still want me to follow the drainage or cut the corner over the ridge?” Ferguson asked.

  Shultz looked over at his copilot. “Go as direct as possible. We’ll hit more turbulence, but the shortcut will save a couple minutes. This altitude should be good.”

  “Roger.”

  Shultz attempted contact with the missing aircraft on several frequencies, including the emergency guard channel. There was no response. If the commuter plane crashed, the radios were likely inoperable.

  The medevac helicopter cleared the rounded spur of a lower mountain, encountering less turbulence than expected, and entered the ice-carved valley. The glacier ahead was ominous and majestic in appearance. Pools of ice-blue water and mounds of deposited moraine stretched across the basin. From the two-mile wide face, the creviced and dirt-stained ice extended into the heart of the mountains, changing course over several miles in a gradual, climbing curve. At the end was an immense ice field, thick and blinding white, spreading in multiple directions like outstretched fingers.

  The expanse of ice and layers of heavy snow increased five hundred feet in thickness for every mile of distance until the glacier was nearly as deep as it was wide. Deep chasms were cut in the surface and the sides discolored from the force of ice crushing and eating away at the mountain.

  “Another five miles to the GPS coordinates,” Ferguson said. “The signal is getting stronger every minute.”

  Shultz nodded in agreement. “Hold a thousand feet above the ground as we pass over the front of the glacier and slow to sixty knots. Fly up the center on the first pass. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Steiner turned and faced the cockpit, leaning between the seats for a view out the windshield. “It’s a big area. If th
e missing plane isn’t intact, the wreckage will be hard to spot.”

  “We’ll find the plane,” Shultz added confidently. “It might take us a few orbits, but we’ll find the wreckage. Everyone stay sharp and use your visual cues like you’ve been trained.”

  He knew his crew was dependable. Search techniques were part of their training and repeatedly practiced until they became routine.

  The visual area was divided into separate, overlapping sectors. The pilots scanned out from the windshield and to the side, covering an arc of approximately sixty degrees, while the crew in back searched a similar pattern, scanning in an overlapping arc from the sides to the front. The technique maximized the coverage, allowing multiple sets of eyes to search the same area.

  By maintaining a thousand feet above the terrain and flying a moderate airspeed of sixty knots, a wider area could be searched more effectively. Even if one set of eyes missed something, another crew member would hopefully spot what the other had overlooked.

  The first leg took four minutes to fly. The helicopter passed the last set of coordinates and continued another mile before reversing course. The signal was strong in all directions, bouncing off the high mountain and making an accurate fix impossible to identify.

  The eyes of the crew slowly moved back and forth across the glacier, searching for the outline of a plane, tracks in the snow, misshapen objects, or discoloration—anything that might indicate a presence other than ice or snow. There was nothing.

  “We have to be close,” Shultz announced. “If we don’t spot anything on this pass we’ll fly another pattern on the opposite side.”

  He attempted contact with the missing plane again, not surprised by the lack of response. Shultz imagined a worst-case scenario where the plane might have slid into one of the large crevasses after crash landing on the glacier. If so, the chance of spotting wreckage and finding survivors was drastically reduced.

  Upon completion of the third leg, the crew doubted the accuracy of the ELT signal. The decreasing fuel left them with few options. They could repeat a search pattern at a lower altitude, ignore the coordinates and try searching a different area, or fly higher where the signal might be less distorted by the terrain.