by Julie Tizard
“Thanks, ma’am.” Casey felt herself flush with heat at the compliment.
*****
Casey studied navigation in academics and learned how to read aeronautical charts, plot courses, make flight plans, calculate en route leg times and fuel burns. She couldn’t wait to go on her cross-country flights and fly to another base. She flight planned a low-level navigation leg to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base near Tucson, then they would fly back to Willie at night. She used dead reckoning navigation for the low-level flight, checking the terrain to determine her turn points. She would be flying on instruments for the return flight at night.
Carter was back flying with Jeff, and she was flying with Captain Hardesty. They listened to the weather brief, which included gusty winds for the landing at Davis-Monthan and the possibility of thunderstorms developing.
Captain Hardesty sat down with Casey with her own sectional chart, whiz wheel, and instrument approach book for Arizona. “Casey, brief me on what we’re doing today.”
“I plotted the low-level route using turn points of a pair of buttes, Coolidge Dam, a railroad crossing the freeway, Picacho Peak, then direct to Davis-Monthan.”
“You’ll be flying at two hundred and fifty knots, only one thousand feet above the ground, so the most important thing you have to do is clear, clear, clear. Look outside the jet for other aircraft, terrain, and obstacles like antennas or power lines.”
They reviewed the return leg from D-M back to Willie and talked about the different instrument approaches she would fly. At base operations they filed their flight plan, got a weather briefing, and Captain Hardesty showed her how to set up the cockpit for a navigation flight.
It felt like they were flying really fast because they were so close to the ground as they skimmed over the mountain ridges. She spotted her first turn point, the twin buttes, checked her timing, and started her turn to the next point. When she wasn’t hyperventilating, she was starting to think this was actually kind of fun. The sky looked sort of fuzzy in front of her.
“What is that, ma’am?”
“That’s virga, rain that evaporates before it hits the ground. We may not be able to complete this low-level if the visibility gets any worse.”
Just then it sounded like they were hit with machine gun bullets as big raindrops struck the canopy. Captain Hardesty took the stick, made a hard turn to the right, slammed the throttles forward to full power, and pulled the jet into a climb. “My jet, Casey.”
The plane started to rock and roll as turbulence hit them, pushing Casey hard against her shoulder straps. A wall of dark, ominous clouds was in front of them as the ground faded away. Oh my God. I have no idea what to do.
“Albuquerque Center, this is Sage 75,” Captain Hardesty transmitted.
There was only static.
“Albuquerque Center, Sage 75. Do you copy?”
Again, no answer.
“We’re on our own since we’re too low to receive any radio signals. Casey, find our current position on your map, draw a line heading west, and look for the nearest navigation facility.”
Casey’s hand shook as she drew a rough line on her chart. “I think Stanfield VOR is the nearest nav fix. I’ll tune that up.”
The needle on the navigation instrument slowly spun as it searched for a signal.
“We’re too low to get a nav lock. We need to climb higher.” They were surrounded by dark gray clouds as the turbulence got worse. An amber warning light came on—the engine ice light.
“Uh, Captain Hardesty?”
“I see it. Unfortunately, this plane has no weather radar, no deicing or anti-ice capability. That light just tells us that ice is forming in the engines and we need to get out of this as soon as possible.”
The clouds surrounding them were disorienting. Casey was enveloped in grayness. The turbulence threw her against her seat harness and made it difficult to read the instruments. She couldn’t tell if she was upside down or straight and level. She fought hard to keep her fear in check.
The needle on the navigation instrument stopped and pointed to one-two-zero degrees.
“Casey, tell me where we are.”
“We are northwest of the Stanfield VOR.”
“Good. Now where do we want to go?”
I can’t believe she’s still quizzing me as we’re about to die.
“Back to Willie?”
“Correct. Figure out which direction we need to go.”
“I think we should turn to a zero-three-zero heading, ma’am.”
“That’s exactly right. I’m descending to six thousand feet to get out of this icing since we’re over a flat part of the desert. Let’s see if we can get Phoenix Approach on the radio now that we’re away from the high terrain.
“Phoenix Approach, this is Sage 75 passing ten thousand for six thousand, northwest of Stanfield,” Captain Hardesty transmitted.
“Sage 75, Phoenix Approach, radar contact. I show your destination as Davis-Monthan, but they are closed due to thunderstorms. What are your intentions?”
“We’d like vectors to Williams for the instrument approach. What’s the current weather at Willie?”
“They are reporting a two-hundred-foot ceiling, visibility one-half mile with blowing dust, wind two-four-zero degrees at fifty knots, runway three-zero in use.”
“Fuck. Maybe we can make it to Luke,” Captain Hardesty muttered to herself.
“Phoenix Approach, what’s the current weather at Luke Air Force Base?”
“Sage 75, Luke is closed for wind shear on the field.”
“Okay, Phoenix, request vectors to Williams.”
“Sage 75, turn right heading zero-four-five, descend and maintain five thousand feet.”
“Ma’am, can we land in that weather at Willie?” Casey asked nervously.
“You tell me, Casey. Can we?”
This woman is maddening! “Well, we have the minimums for the approach, but I’m not sure if the winds are out of limits.”
“What is the crosswind limit for the T-37?”
Casey hesitated. She knew the answer to the question but was having a hard time focusing with fear choking her and the turbulence banging her head around.
“Twenty-six knots?”
“Are you sure?”
Casey was getting more and more irritated with her. “Yes, the crosswind limit is twenty-six knots.”
“Good. Now go to your checklist and figure out the crosswind for runway three-zero.”
Casey’s gloved hand shook as she looked up the table in her checklist. “I come up with a twenty-five-knot direct crosswind.”
“So, can we land in that?”
“Yes, ma’am, we can.”
“Good. Yes, we can land with those winds at the moment. But if the wind velocity gets worse or the direction changes, we may have to divert to Phoenix Sky Harbor airport.”
“Can we land at the commercial airport?”
“Not generally, but we’ll be an emergency aircraft if we have to divert so we can land there. I’m going to have to fly this approach, Casey, and I need you to back me up on the altitudes. We’re going to be flying as a crew on this—not IP and student. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” This was serious now. Very serious.
They broke out of the clouds momentarily. Casey saw massive columns of towering black clouds on either side of them as if they were flying through a deep canyon. Lightning flashed all around them and inside the clouds. The lightning strikes were happening so fast it looked like paparazzi flashbulbs going off. They were still flying through heavy rain, but with the bright landing lights on, the big drops looked like they were shooting past them at an incredibly fast speed. It resembled the starship Voyager going to warp speed through a star field. The raw power of the weather surrounding them made her feel very insignificant flying through this in a small trainer. It was terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.
“Attention all aircraft. This is Phoenix Approach. Phoenix Sky
Harbor is now closed due to wind shear on the field.”
“Shit,” Captain Hardesty muttered. “Casey, listen to me very carefully. We have one shot to get this plane on the ground. We don’t have enough fuel to try another approach, and the other airports in the area are closed. If the winds get worse, or I can’t see the runway, I’m going to immediately zoom the jet up to two thousand feet and we’re going to eject. I will say, ‘Bail out, bail out, bail out,’ then we go.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“Sage 75, Phoenix Approach. Turn right heading zero-nine-zero, descend to three thousand feet. You’re cleared for the ILS three-zero center approach, contact tower.”
“Sage 75, cleared for the approach.”
“Gear down, Casey.”
She put the wheel-shaped handle down and checked for three green gear-down lights.
“Speed one ten, flaps to fifty.”
Casey moved the flap lever to the one-half mark and tried to watch the instruments as Captain Hardesty flew the approach. The attitude indicator looked like a dancing meatball, and the turbulence was so severe the instruments appeared to bounce around like they weren’t even attached to the front panel. They were in complete, blind grayness, and Casey wanted to put her hand on the stick as Captain Hardesty flew the jet, just to feel connected to her. She moved the stick so fast it looked like she was furiously stirring a pot as she struggled to fly the jet.
She had to shout so Casey could hear her over the deafening sound of the pounding rain. “On glide path, on speed, flaps full, Casey.”
“Flaps full. At the final approach fix.”
They were only fifteen hundred feet above the ground and descending rapidly surrounded by dark, violent weather. Casey’s heart pounded as she checked the distance to the runway: five miles to go. Her eyes burned as sweat ran down her forehead from her helmet. She had to do her job even if it was the last thing she would ever do on this earth. “Three miles, one thousand feet.”
“Willie Tower, Sage 75, gear down, full stop.”
“Sage 75, cleared to land, wind two-four-zero degrees, thirty-five gusting to sixty knots. Wind shear advisories in effect.”
“Sage 75, cleared to land.”
There was no talking between them as they continued the descent toward the ground. Casey glanced at the little instrument they were betting their lives on, the ILS indicator. It was the size of a silver dollar and showed centered crosshairs indicating they were on the glide path and lined up with the runway. Casey looked at the bouncing altitude dial thinking about her next call as they approached three hundred feet above the ground.
“Approaching decision height,” Casey called.
She stole a peek out the front of the windscreen hoping to see the runway but saw nothing. Oh, my God. Altitude, Casey, call out the altitude!
“Decision height! I can’t see the runway!” Casey shouted.
“I have a light at two o’clock low,” Captain Hardesty said.
Casey saw one dim, pale fuzzy white light, then another, then three—they were the lead-in lights. She couldn’t see the runway and Captain Hardesty was still descending. They were one hundred feet above the ground.
“Runway in sight—landing!”
Casey saw the green runway threshold lights and the white stripes of the landing zone. The nose of the plane was twenty degrees angled off from the runway. It looked like they would go off the edge of the pavement. Captain Hardesty stepped on the rudder pedal to swing the nose around as she banked the plane into the wind. Bam! They hit the runway hard and Captain Hardesty slammed the stick full forward to keep the nose on the runway. Her feet danced on the rudder pedals trying to stay on the center line with the wind buffeting them ferociously.
The centerline lights were barely visible through the torrential rain. “Tower, Sage 75 is clear of the runway, taxiing to parking.”
“Tower copies. Did you experience any wind shear on final?”
“Yes, we had a twenty-knot loss of airspeed at two hundred feet.”
“Glad you made it back, Sage 75.”
“So are we, Tower.”
Chapter Fifteen
Captain Hardesty pulled into a parking space without guidance from a crew chief since the mechanics were not allowed to be on the ramp with lightning on the field. She shut down the engines and they sat in the jet with the canopy closed waiting for the storm to pass. The air inside the jet was close and humid as the loud rain continued to pelt them. The rain brought the outside air temperature down to ninety degrees, which was cool for Arizona in June, but it was still hot. Casey thought she should say something but wasn’t sure where to start. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time because they had just cheated death. Why isn’t she quizzing me or debriefing me? Did I screw something up?
“Um, Captain Hardesty, I just wanted to say, that was amazing flying you did to get us on the ground.”
“Not now, Casey.”
“Ma’am?”
“It was not amazing flying. It was complete stupidity. We are both lucky to be alive. Don’t EVER do what I just did.”
“I don’t understand, ma’am. We got back to Willie and the plane’s okay.”
“I’ll discuss this with you when we get inside.” Her tone meant business, and Casey didn’t utter another word.
*****
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I still can’t believe we are not both dead in a smoking hole right now. Shit. How did I let this happen? Calm down, Kath. Don’t take your screw-up out on Casey.
Kathryn made herself breathe deeply to exhale her anger and bring her heart rate back to normal. Once her shaking stopped and the adrenaline subsided, she tried to reconstruct how they got into such a dangerous situation in the first place. Casey had been doing well on the low-level mission. She was finding her turn points, keeping the airplane trimmed, and making good course corrections. She was expecting Casey to notice the deteriorating weather and was waiting for her to decide what to do about it. It was a classic case of overconfidence in a student pilot’s ability. It was a rookie IP mistake, and Kathryn was kicking herself for it.
Why had she overestimated Casey’s flying judgment in the first place? She knew the answer before she even asked herself the question. She just didn’t want to acknowledge the truth.
It was because Casey was special.
Crap. She couldn’t allow herself to think of Casey as special. None of them were. They were all the same—student pilots who tried to kill her three times a day on every mission. Still, Kathryn had taught enough students to fly in her career to be able to recognize the truly exceptional ones when they came along, and they were very rare. She made a point of flying with as many students in the different flights, in all the phases of training, as she could, and Casey was far above most of them. She was smart, hardworking, prepared, and paid attention to every critique. Casey didn’t have the usual arrogance of the male students, but she had the hunger—the hunger to fly as well as she possibly could. Kathryn had allowed herself to think of Casey as more than just another student pilot. Kathryn wanted Casey to be more, but where was this coming from? Kathryn had no idea, but it bothered her just the same.
Casey could be washed out of this program at any time if she busted three rides in a row. She could kill herself, like Mike Harris did, on a solo flight. She might fail at formation flying or never be able to keep up with the supersonic T-38 jet. There was no reason to think of Casey as special, and yet, she was.
Kathryn would get a grip on her feelings and explain during the debrief, in a calm manner, what had gone wrong on this flight. Hopefully, this would be a valuable learning experience for both of them that they would never have to repeat.
Their shoulders touched as they sat in the compact jet waiting for the rain to subside. The air around them was warm as their breath mingled. Kathryn took off her helmet and oxygen mask and Casey followed suit. Kathryn was calm and in control once again. They sat in awkward silence as the rain pounded the canopy.
Kathryn knew her tone with Casey had been sharp and uncalled for. She prided herself at never yelling at a student because she had hated it so much when she was a student pilot. Guilt and shame made her squirm in her seat. She glanced sideways to look at Casey’s face. She was quiet and stoic, but looked like a hurt puppy. Her chest tightened with compassion for having hurt Casey.
She turned in her seat to look directly into Casey’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, Casey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just angry over the situation we got into.”
“It’s okay, ma’am,” she answered with relief in her voice.
“I think this rain is starting to let up. Put everything into your helmet bag so it doesn’t get wet and let’s head back to the flight room.”
When Casey opened the canopy, they both got pretty wet, but at least the torrential rain had stopped and now it was just a steady rain. The pungent smell of mesquite was heavy in the freshly washed desert air. It was a rare treat from the normally dusty, dry air. Kathryn inhaled deeply of the intoxicating, spicy scent. Even being somewhat soggy in her wet flight suit, she was glad they both were back on terra firma.
They were greeted with the smell of pizza as they entered the flight room. Kathryn was surprised to see Barb Arnau already there talking to her student. No other IPs or students were in the room.
“Did you land ahead of me, Barb?”
“Hell no. We didn’t even get off the ground. We were about thirty minutes behind you guys. We had a mechanical. By the time we got it fixed, the gust front from that massive storm rolled a giant haboob dust storm right across the runways. We barely got inside. Did you just land in that?”
“Yes, by the skin of my teeth.”
“I’m amazed you got in. Everybody else diverted. I’ve got two jets at D-M, three at Fort Huachuca, and that idiot Carter landed at the emergency field in Gila Bend. So Parker and I ordered a large pizza from Cosmo’s. Help yourselves.”