Hijacking of Flight 100: Terror at 600 miles per hour

by C. J. Stott

  The hijacker made no attempt to stop Don, but threatened. “No tricks. Do anything funny and I start shooting.”

  Don turned to Fred, “Fly the airplane for a minute, while I call Cleveland. Hold the same heading and altitude.” He turned to Stan, “Keep the same airspeed.”

  Fred looked at Don with some confusion. Up until now, Don had been doing all of the flying on this trip and Fred had done the “Pilot Not Flying” duties.

  Now, everything changed. Without comment, Fred put his hands on the yoke and looked out the windshield, wishing he were anywhere but here, covering the ground at 8 miles per minute. He said, “My airplane.” Meaning he was now flying.

  Don acknowledged, “Your airplane.”

  With a very dry mouth, Don called the controllers on the ground, “Cleveland Center. 100.”

  Immediately, a new voice responded, “100. Yes sir. This is Cleveland. Go ahead.”

  “Cleveland Center. He’s in the cockpit and wants to go to Havana. We are equipped with three Inertial Navigation platforms. We’d like to go Havana. We are requesting a direct heading to Havana at Flight Level 330.”

  All three pilots wore their earphones and heard the Center. The hijacker heard nothing.

  “Roger, 100. Understand. We’ll start on a clearance for you. For the time being, turn right to a heading of 210°, maintain 370.”

  Fred grabbed the microphone, “Cleveland, we’re at 330, not 370.”

  The embarrassed controller said, “Roger that. 100. My mistake. We confirm you are at Flight Level 330, not 370. Please Ident.”

  Fred clicked the microphone twice, the standard response. Don pressed the Identification button on the transponder panel.

  Thinking and reacting, Fred picked up his microphone and said, “100 Roger. We’re level at 330.”

  Don resumed control of the aircraft, “My airplane.” Fred responded, “Your aircraft.”

  Don thought, “Maybe. This might just work out. Or, maybe not.”

  Chapter 57

  18:35 Eastern Standard Time

  Overhead Virginia / Georgia Border

  The roll-rate of the autopilot is a function of the number of degrees of change selected on the heading command and the rate with which the heading selector is turned. Unfortunately, Don spun the heading selector quickly, calling for a 90° turn to he right. Immediately, all three INS platforms compared and then recalculated the aircrafts course error with regard to the original flight plan instructions. Now, the aircraft was told to fly a different specific magnetic heading.

  The nose of lumbering 747 initially remained fixed on an imaginary point, while the fuselage rapidly rolled into a thirty degree bank to the right. Everyone in the airplane felt heavier and could not help being aware something was happening. Their community thought was, “Something was out of the ordinary. Something is happening that is not normal.”

  When the aircraft fuselage rolled to the right, the nose made a dead level arc across the sky. The two flux gate compasses, one near each wing tip, sensed the 747’s heading and sent continuous signals to the autopilot/flight director computers. The aircraft gently rolled out on a heading of exactly 200°. The 80° turn had taken exactly 25 seconds.

  Fred looked over at Don and said, “The assigned heading was 210 Don, not 200.”

  Don growled something about being under a lot of pressure, but readjusted the heading selector to 210°. The aircraft rolled into a very shallow 5° bank to a new heading and then rolled wings level.

  The Captain looked at the Cross Track Error readout on the number one INS platform. In the past thirty seconds at seven miles per minute, the aircraft had flown four miles south of its intended course to New York.

  He thought to himself, “Every 30 seconds we move further from New York and closer to Havana. His mind wondered. “What will Kathryn think if I don’t call her. Will she think he had been a no-show? Or, might she think he had found someone else? Or, even worse, would she not even be concerned if he didn’t show up or call?”

  “What do you think about pulling the power back to conserve fuel?”

  Don’s thoughts about Kathryn precluded him from hearing what Stan had said. “Sorry, Stan. What did you say?”

  Stan started to repeat himself when Fred added, “Great idea. What the target airspeed for Long Range Cruise?”

  “Just a minute.” Stan flipped open a notebook and said, “LRC would add some time to our flight, but would save us about 5,500 pounds of fuel each hour we’re in the air.”

  Fred laughed, “Stan, you have such a way with words.”

  Don looked over his shoulder at Stan and Fred and said, “Stan pull ‘em back to LRC. I assume we’re too heavy for Max Range Cruise?”

  “We could go to MRC, but the savings are minimal over LRC and at this weight, the airplane would be very sloppy.”

  Without further discussion, Stan reached up and pulled each engine throttle back about fifteen percent. The aircraft slowed and the nose came up as the autopilot held their assigned altitude of thirty three thousand feet. After several minutes, the aircraft’s ground speed had been reduced by well over 100 knots.

  The wind noise in the cockpit kept the hijacker from hearing much of what was being said on the radio. Through an overhead speaker, Bill heard something about this flight, “100. This is Cleveland, go ahead.”

  After that, he didn’t care. The Captain said something into a microphone and then reached up and moved a knob, but nothing happened. He turned another knob and the airplane turned hard. He could see the ground directly out the other pilot’s window. It looked like he could see straight down. Just as suddenly, the earth stopped rotating. While the airplane was turning, Bill felt very heavy and nearly stumbled when Carlton moved again.

  The other pilot said something, the captain moved the same knob and the airplane turned but not as steeply. He was frightened when the airplane tilted. When he looked out the side window, he felt like he was falling.

  Don turned in his seat and looked back at the hijacker, “We’re on our way to Havana.”

  Bill had no understanding of the significance of what the pilot had just said.

  “The people on the ground are going to clear a path for us and move other aircraft that might be in conflict with us.” Bill was unable to comprehend what was happening around him.

  Carlton, lay on his side and stomach. His cheek was pressed against the harsh rubber cockpit flooring. There was a patch of dried blood on the side of his head.

  No one spoke for several seconds. The silence was broken by the interphone chimes. Don took the phone off the hook and answered, “This is the Captain.”

  “Captain, this is Patti. Almost all of the passengers have been moved into coach.”

  “Keep them in their seats with their seat belts on.” The interphone was silent.

  He continued, “He wants to go to Havana. So, we’ve turned south. Patti, do not say anything to the passengers.” Almost as an afterthought, “I’ll make an announcement.”

  “Are all of you alright? I mean he seemed so crazy, the way he was acting and then how he beat on Carlton.”

  Don tried to ignore how Carlton looked as he lay on the floor, “Yes, we are all fine.” In a conspirator’s tone, “Stay in First Class. I want to know where you are, if I need you.”

  Don looked at the hijacker, but he didn’t seem too concerned about a conversation he could not hear. He said, “Patti, hang on a minute.”

  He could hear her take in a sharp breath, “Yes, what is it?”

  “Just a minute,”

  Don looked at Carlton, and at the hijacker. Next he looked at the cockpit door that had again swung open during the heading change.

  He said to Patti, “I want you to move the passengers on the upper deck to any available seats down below. Away from First Class. Put them anywhere but First Class. If things get out of hand, I don’t want them sitting underneath the cockpit floor.”

  Both Fred and Stan thought this was an excellent ide
a no one from the training center or the security folks would ever have thought about. Stan nodded in appreciation.

  Bill looked at Don and slowly understood what was about to happen.

  “No. Leave them people up here.”

  Don was not discouraged and continued, “Well, I want to get some help for him,” his thumb pointed toward Carlton. “He looks terrible. I want one of the flight attendants to take a look at his head.”

  Carlton heard some of this conversation and thought he might get out of this alive. He drew from some small reservoir of inner strength and raised his head then looked pleadingly at Don.

  Don looked at the poor pitiful hostage, “Do you think you’re able to walk down to the main cabin for some medical attention?”

  Before Carlton could answer, the hijacker increased the pressure against Carlton’s leg and made him gasp with the pain.

  “He stays here.”

  Don was silent.

  He continued, “He don’t look that bad to me. I could have messed him up real bad. He got off way easy, man.” Don had not expected this. He did not want a flight attendant held hostage at the hijacker’s disposal, especially in the cockpit. Carlton heard the conversation and his hopes for rescue and survival were crushed.

  Don’s thoughts were disrupted by Patti’s voice on the hand held interphone. “Captain, are you still there?”

  “Sorry. Things are not okay here. I tried to get some help for Carlton. But the answer for now is no.”

  Don lowered his voice and said, “Tell all the flight attendants to stay on the lower deck, unless I specifically tell them to come up here.”

  “Do you want me to have the upper deck passengers moved down here?”

  “I’d love for you to do that. But the hijacker has said no deal.”

  She added, “Maybe he’ll change his mind. Oh, and Amelio says he has organized the passengers in Coach to make room for the First Class passengers. Some of them will have to sit on the Flight Attendant Jump Seats.”

  “That’s good. Take good care of your passengers. We’re going to be busy. Remember to leave the First Class handset off hook. Don’t call us unless it’s an emergency. If I want to talk to you, I’ll use the emergency chimes in the cabin or make a PA announcement.”

  “Okay, Captain,” Patti felt herself on the verge of crying as she said, “Good luck, sir.”

  Don heard her voice crack, “And” she paused, “and, God bless you.” Then in a very timid and scared voice she asked, “Are we going to be alright? I mean really really alright?”

  Don tried to sound convincing and positive, but was unsuccessful, “No problem. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Fred and Stan did not share Don’s optimism, real or imagined.

  Chapter 58

  18:40 Eastern Standard Time

  John F. Kennedy International Airport

  Typically, the tedium of routine operations in Flight Dispatch was predictable, with one hundred fifty daily flights being dispatched and monitored. The only time the routine activity level increased was when the weather created diversions at several adjacent airports around the airline system.

  After Lazlo Fielding’s radio call with Flight 100 that a hijacking was in progress, the activity had increased noticeably.

  Each airline had its own codified policy to be followed in the event of an incident, accident, hijack, sabotage, bomb or extortion threat. The reading was incredibly dry, outlining specific recommendations regarding lines of authority, areas of influence and down to prepared statements for the media.

  Nowhere in the policy manual did it state how the flights crews were to be assisted. Assistance was presumed, but not expressed. Nowhere did the manual state what efforts were to be taken to make the hijack go as smoothly as possible.

  In the 70s and 80s, many airlines had their fair share of hijackings. From these experiences, some airlines learned and benefitted; while others elected to forget these events, most likely in the hope the problems and threats would go away.

  Unfortunately, Flight 100’s airline hijacking control and management protocols were not well defined. no team No ‘Go Teams’ had been designated or appointed. The manual simply said, “Every attempt should be made to keep the hijacked aircraft on the ground. In the event that is not possible, every attempt should be made to land the aircraft as soon as possible.” This was the extent of the official policy.

  The current corporate philosophy seemed to suggest that with all the new security measures in place, the likelihood of a potential or actual hijacking is almost non-existent.

  The office of general counsel for many airlines were perpetually concerned that any overt preparation for a hijacking, in terms of policy statements, could easily be interpreted in some courts as evidence the corporation knew of the likelihood of hijacking, but had not put adequate procedures in place. Should that legal theory be affirmed and upheld, hundreds of millions of dollars in liability claims could be expected.

  Additionally, an absence of specific written hijacking protocols might be affirmed by the courts that the corporation believed the risk of a hijacking was so low, no policies were necessary or warranted. If that legal theory were followed, then direct liability might not be found against the airline, but completely placed on the shoulders of the hijacker, law enforcement and federal agencies.

  In legal-speak, the airline was saying, “We don’t believe there is any risk of a terrorist or hijacking attack. If a hijacking were to take place, the entire liability for that act, in fact, rests solely with the hijacker, not the airline.”

  This magical thinking, unfortunately, was common in many corporate general counsel offices throughout the airline community. Only a handful of air carriers had extensive protocols in place, each to be fully implanted the moment the threat of a hijacking was deemed credible.

  Ultimately, all final operational decisions rested solely on the shoulders of the captain of the hijacked aircraft. Predictably, some of the strongest airline anti-terrorist policies were with air carriers that had extensive aerial piracy experience; TWA, El Al, Lufthansa and Pan American World Airways being prime examples.

  Fielding placed another call to John Batchelor. He received no answer. The New York switchboard operator at corporate said she would try to reach him at home and then asked if Fielding wished to leave a message. He told her to tell Batchelor one of their aircraft had been hijacked, adding this hijacker might be the same passenger John Batchelor was waiting to arrest when 100 arrived at JFK.

  Next, Fielding told Becky to run several computer flight plans for 100 from its present position near Pittsburgh to Havana. He asked her to plug in block altitudes from Flight Level 330 to 390, all at Long Range Cruise and/or Max Range Cruise. Fielding knew fuel conservation and operational safety were inexorably linked.

  After several minutes, Becky handed him the new flight plans. The first thing he looked at was fuel burn from present position to destination and frowned. The computer models included take off, climb, cruise, descent, approach and landing. Not Becky’s fault. The computer simulations were inaccurate because 100 already was at a cruise altitude. Fielding estimated that ten thousand pounds of fuel could be saved or subtracted from any of these computer models, a significant benefit in planning the remainder of 100’s flight.

  He subtracted that fuel burn from the original fuel release and estimated 100 had about seventy thousand pounds on board overhead Pittsburgh. If every went according to plan, 100 would arrive in Havana with less than sixteen thousand pounds of fuel.

  Fielding wanted to call 100 and give them the computer model numbers he had generated. However, he remembered the Captain’s specific words about not bothering them unless it was an emergency.

  He called the Flight Operations duty officer to tell him the critical fuel situation regarding 100’s planned arrival fuel in Havana.

  The duty officer’s response floored Fielding, “Really not our problem. That’s why we pay those Captains all the big money.
Let him figure it out. He’s a big boy.”

  Fielding was stunned and didn’t have any argument to bring forth. “Stay with the flight until this is over. We have over a hundred other flights that need our attention. If you are sidetracked by Flight 100, get someone else to manage your other flights.” After a pause, the duty officer said, “What the hell are we to do? We don’t have air-to-air refueling capability. The flight crew is going to have to handle this one on their own.”

  Lazlo slammed his coffee cup down, spilling most of the contents on his desk.

  He grumbled, “Dis duty manager iz a trow-back to da piston days. Been around for more than 35 years.” Perplexed, he added, “Vut am I to do?”

  Frustrated, Fielding thought of many possible options, but felt professionally constrained because of the direct order from the duty officer. In the same conversations, the duty officer had told Fielding he wanted him to remain at the airport until the hijack was concluded. Yet, at the same time, he was essentially told not to do anything to help. This was very confusing to him.

  Becky came back and stood behind Fielding’s desk. “What is going on?”

  “We have a 747 with a nut job who wants to go to Havana. I think he has taken a Flight Attendant hostage and could be armed. The Captain told us unless it’s an emergency, we mustn’t call da flight on der radio. My boss is no help and I can’t get anyone else to help me or the crew.”

  As he considered the weather and looked at the maps, he hoped 100 was on the east side of the weather, so that if they did go to Havana they would at least have a tail wind part of the way and extend their range as they flew south.

  Although, while the winds might be more favorable, 100 would, at some point, have to penetrate a line of weather where these two air masses met.

  It seemed to Fielding, if 100 had to do much deviating around weather, they could easily burn through their very limited reserves. Without being aware, he muttered a damning epithet in German about the entire situation.