I dedicate this series of stories to NS, JL and FJ who will know exactly what I am talking about and to my wife, Margaret, who is too young to have been part of any of it…
Introduction
The title of this series depicts a situation controllers were invented to prevent, that is, to have two or more aircraft at the same place, at the same time and at the same level…
Most of the time they do an admirable job of this and consequently the air traffic control system is one of the safest elements of flying to day.
It takes a special breed of men and women to make a good air traffic controller and the constant faultless performance expected of them requires an almost superhuman effort on their part. New surveillance techniques, computers and the host of other electronic wizardry that constitutes their tools help a lot, but the series of decisions that will eventually resolve any given, complex traffic situation is theirs alone. Stress is a way of living for controllers and their divorce rate is way above the national average.
These stories are about air traffic controllers, but not the disciplined bunch sitting in operations rooms and control towers. It is about the human beings who love their job but also find time for a good laugh, who know when the rules can be bent a little, but whose concern for safety couldn’t be higher even if they were themselves sitting on board the machines entrusted to their care.
Each of the following stories is true. Some come from personal experience; others have lived on as part of the general heritage of air traffic control, to be talked about on long, foggy nights. Of this latter, some of the events described could not happen again, as they belong to an age that disappeared along with the DC3. Of the rest, well, for a new controller, every joke is new…
So, tighten your seatbelts, tune your radio to clearance delivery and let’s go!
Flying is fun
It was quite a revelation at the Air Traffic Control College that some of the guys (yes, only guys, for girls were not so keen to become controllers in the late 60’s) have never been aboard an aircraft before. While the course did call for eventual visits to the flight deck, this appeared to be far in the future and some of us just could not wait to view the runway we have heard so much about from the air. The project appeared simple enough until we came up against the very complex red tape machinery that tried to block our ambitions. We discounted regular flights, as this would have involved money, and most of us could ill afford such extravagance. So we aimed our efforts towards crew training flights and the obscure category of technical flights. When the course supervisor mentioned the need for insurance cover, we waved it aside, after all why should an aircraft crash with US on board? This left the poor, overworked man with just one final argument. What if the visibility went below minimums while we were up, and the aircraft had to divert to an alternate? How would we get home and back to the college in time and who would pay for the overnight expenses? This did it. Our enthusiasm was considerably dampened and for a time we went back to our books and navigational calculations. Typical of the times, security was not yet a hurdle to overcome…
The flames were whipped high once again when, on a sunny and mild October morning, one of our fellow students came with the news that the same afternoon the friendly local airline was planning to run a technical test flight, and the captain, a friend of a friend, had agreed to take us along. As luck would have it, we had no classes scheduled after 14.00, and we felt we could do whatever we wanted with our own time. It was also a Friday and surely, no fog would last until Monday morning?
The aircraft for the flight turned out to be one of the old IL-18’s, a four-engine turboprop. When we boarded, we found a worried looking group of technicians busy setting up some kind of measuring instrument. Soon, the engines were started. We noticed before the aircraft started taxiing, but after the doors had been closed, that all but one of the grim faced men have left. We were to learn later that the one left on board had no family and he had volunteered for this mission…
To our disappointment, we were told to remain in the passenger cabin, but we were happy enough to do so and occupied ourselves by doing some backseat navigating. We followed the progress of the flight through the traffic pattern, tried to guess the changes in altitude and generally did our best to appear as essential elements of the great adventure. That there could be anything wrong with the plane itself never even occurred to us.
Things took a bad turn though, when, following the third circuit round the pattern, which should have been the last, the plane turned away from the airport and started to climb. Our friend with the gauges was still concentrating on his instruments, so we just sat back and waited. I could have sworn there was at least one guy silently praying… The old machine finally leveled out at what appeared to be around 35000 feet, the engines were throttled back and we felt the seats falling out from under our wary asses. The dive lasted several seconds and then we felt the pilot pull a maximum “g” climb. This he repeated two more times, finally lining up for a tight visual circling approach to land. Boy, were we glad to feel the landing gear kiss the concrete of the runway at the end of this ordeal. The plane taxied to the maintenance area and after cutting the engines, the captain, a gray haired veteran of the line (and a friend of a friend…), came into the passenger cabin asking us how we liked the flight. It was great, we lied, but what was the funny roller coaster stuff at the end?
“Oh, didn’t you know? This aircraft came back last night with excessive vibration from a source that they could not identify on the ground. So they have asked for a volunteer crew to check it out.” No, we did not know.
We learned later that the aircraft was grounded for a long, long time for repairs… as were we, though this time of our own free will.
(To be continued…)