Emergency E-Book

Stanley Stewart

• Herausgeber: Airlife
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Emergency is a collection of true stories about events where disaster seems imminent. Yet each situation is concluded without loss of life thanks to the skill of the pilots and their crews, whose bravery and resourcefulness have earned them well-deserved commendations. Written by a British Airways First Officer, Stanley Stewart, who has spoken at first hand with the pilots and crews involved in all the incidents recorded here, the book offers a unique insight into what really happened: not the passengers eye-view, which in many cases is already documented, but the view from the flight deck of the aircraft itself.

Leseprobe

Emergency

Crisis on the Flight Deck

2nd edition

Stanley Stewart

Airlife

First published in 1989 by Airlife Publishing, an imprint of The Crowood Press Ltd, Ramsbury, Marlborough, Wiltshire, SN8 2HR

www.crowood.com

This e-book edition first published in 2012

© Stanley Stewart 1989 and 2002

All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

ISBN 978 1 84797 412 9

‘One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.’

James Russel Lowell

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1 Forced Entry

2 That Falling Feeling

3 Pacific Search

4 The Windsor Incident

5 Don’t be Fuelish

6 The Blackest Day

7 Ice Cool

8 Roll Out the Barrel

9 Strange Encounter

Epilogue

Abbreviations and Glossary

Bibliography

Index

Acknowledgements

Much help, assistance and advice was received from many people during the writing of this book and the author is deeply indebted to all those who so kindly contributed. Without the generous support of those involved in the incidents, and others in the aviation industry, this book would not have been possible. To all those who so kindly helped, the author would like to express his heartfelt thanks. Forced Entry: Captain Paul Whetham and Captain Jeff Morgan; That Falling Feeling: Captain Tim Lancaster and Captain Alastair Atchison; Pacific Search: Captain Gordon Vette and Captain Jay Prochnow; The Windsor Incident: Captain Bryce McCormick; Don’t be Fuelish: Captain Bob Pearson and Captain Maurice Quintal; The Blackest Day: Captain Pat Levix; Ice Cool: Captain Tom Hart; Roll Out the Barrel: Captain Harvey ‘Hoot’ Gibson and Mr Harold F. Marthinsen, Director ALPA Accident Investigation Department; Strange Encounter: Captain Eric Moody, Captain Roger Greaves, Senior Engineer Officer Barry Townley-Freeman, with assistance from Captain Frank Avery (747 Instructor).

Any errors remaining are, of course, entirely my own.

Introduction

Flying is one of the safest forms of modern transport and, as a means of travelling quickly over long distances, its role is unsurpassed. The passenger of today is transported with amazing ease from one side of the globe to the other, with the problems of the earth being left far below. For present-day flight crew, however, it is another world, with the view from the flight deck offering a different sight. Aircrew are only too well aware of the hostile nature of their working environment and, armed with such knowledge, are both ready and able to overcome the difficulties.

Aircraft frequently cross great empty oceans, vast featureless deserts, immense ice wastelands and enormous desolate regions in complete safety in spite of the adverse conditions of the terrain below. Aircrew are trained for all contingencies, and survival equipment for sea, ice and desert is carried aboard. On a journey half way round the world many areas of conflict may be crossed without a single sound of the calamity below being heard, the loudest report in the cabin being the pop of a champagne cork. Such danger zones can be traversed or circumvented in safety when approached with vigilance and care.

Natural disasters, civil strife and famine also prove of little effect for the high-flying traveller, although for staff and crew at transit stations the problems may be enormous. In the skies of starving Africa, passengers sitting miles above the horror indulge their tastes in international cuisine. Cosseted by eager airlines, the modern traveller is borne, with diligence and care, in genuine security over the trouble spots of the earth. Journeys over half the world are now so commonplace and scheduled arrivals so frequent that delays of an hour or so can annoy passengers. To arrive, say, a few hours late in Auckland after a 12,000 mile trip from London can be quite unacceptable to some. Yet if the same passengers stopped only for one moment to think of such a journey, they could not fail to be impressed by the accomplishment. The world may be shrinking, but it is not quite as small as we are led to believe. It is still a hazardous place for the unwary and even short flights are rarely as simple as they seem.

In spite of advanced technology and the magic of computers, the movement of something as big as a Boeing 747 from one side of the world to the other is an operation of complex proportions. Anyone who has contemplated driving their automobile in a foreign country will immediately recognise the problems; the difficulties in operating a big jet worldwide are immense; overflying rights, landing permission, insurance arrangements, fuel payments, cargo and passenger quotas are but a few of the challenges, all of which have to be negotiated between governments and often between countries barely talking to each other. The capital equipment required to service a large international airline operation is enormous: aircraft, offices, sales shops, hangars, terminal buildings and a plethora of expensive vehicles from mobile steps to push-back trucks. With air fares over long distances still comparatively low in respect of present-day incomes, it is a wonder that airlines make any profit at all. That they do and, in some cases, manage quite handsome returns in the face of fierce competition, is a great credit to the managers who run these large and costly outfits.

The fact that airlines function successfully throughout the globe is due to the dedicated and hardworking people within the industry who make the system work, in spite of the problems. Managers, office staff, sales persons, accountants, engineers, maintenance personnel, traffic supervisors, the backroom people of the world’s airlines, all make a significant contribution, as well as the aircrews at the sharp end of the operation. For passengers, the smooth, comfortable and effortless transition from one place to another is not accomplished without a great deal of exertion from all concerned. Much of the effort is, of course, unobserved by the travelling public, not least the skills of the flight crew in flying the aircraft from departure to destination. It is an esoteric world where few of even the most well travelled of passengers have been permitted to enter.

The airline pilot’s job today is essentially one of operations director and systems manager, but even on the most sophisticated of electronic flight decks the human contribution is significant. In spite of the advances in computers and electronics, machines can do no reasoning for themselves and creative thinking is still a necessary facet of the job. Aircraft computers can do only so much and modern electronic capabilities are not quite as fantastic as the public is led to believe. Malfunctions do occur and there are many traps for the unwary. Flight crews, of course, are alert to the problems, but are sometimes too eager to assure passengers by telling them how easy it has all become. Basic airmanship (i.e. the collective practical application of training, skill, experience and professional judgement) is still required to be exercised by all flight crews at all times.

All aircraft computers are required to be programmed before flight for each journey and the autopilot, when engaged, has to be instructed on every move. Automatic guidance of a 747, for example, down a narrow radio beam to accomplish an automatic landing in almost blind, foggy conditions with 400 people on board is not a task to be taken lightly. The automatics have to be very carefully monitored for malfunctions and the autopilot has to be told what to do at each stage of the approach. In the fog, of course, the wind is calm and the air still, and in such circumstances automatic landings can be effective. When the wind is blustery and conditions bumpy, however, especially with a strong crosswind on landing, the autopilot cannot cope and the pilot has to take over and land the aircraft.

On most flights, crew operation is routine with standard procedures being followed but, of course, circumstances do change, even when flying repeatedly on the same route. Take-off and landing delays, work at airports, equipment malfunctions, re-routeings, adverse weather and so on, all present difficulties. Flight crews, however, not only have to perform the routine well, a highly skilled procedure in itself, but have to cope with any emergency which may arise. When severe weather strikes, systems malfunction, engines fail or aircraft fires erupt, it is sometimes only the skill of the flight crew which lies between safety and disaster. Flight crews have at all times to be alert to every situation. When a major emergency occurs decisions are made, sometimes in a split second, which can affect the safety of the aircraft and perhaps many hundreds of lives. Here the captain comes into his own and the training of the flight crew is put to the test.

Airline crews are well-trained, highly motivated and dedicated professionals. Although mistakes are sometimes made and accidents occasionally happen, the high level of safety evident in the airline industry is a testament to the excellent standard maintained by all concerned. Too much publicity these days is given to the rare demise of an aircraft, with little being known of the incidents which, owing to aircrew professionalism, end safely and well. Many of the events told within this book are known in aviation circles, with only a few outside, and most of those involved remain unsung heroes. Emergency outlines a number of dramatic incidents and reveals crew procedures during the difficulties, inviting the reader into the exclusive environment of the flight deck to observe the operations.

The author, Stan Stewart, has flown for over thirty-five years and has operated heavy jets in British Airways for thirty years. A graduate engineer, 747 pilot and aviation writer, he is uniquely qualified to write on aviation matters. Emergency is a celebration of the skills and abilities of pilots and flight engineers throughout the world, and the following chapters can be left to speak for themselves.

Chapter 1

Forced Entry

On 11 September 2001, the world of aviation changed for ever. In the years before the events of that day, when the twin towers of the World Trade Centre in New York were attacked, the aviation and security industries were justifiably proud of their record in preventing the unlawful seizure of aircraft. Although lapses had occurred and forced entry to flight decks had been recorded, the efforts of the security industry in denying terrorists access to aircraft and in preventing weapons from getting aboard, and the determination of individual states to prosecute and punish culprits, seemed to be paying dividends. Unknown to aviation at the time, however, the industry had been lulled into a false sense of security and, on that fateful day in September, everything changed.

On the morning of 11 September 2001, nineteen individuals, all of whom were bent on suicide, simultaneously seized four aircraft. To the horror of the world and the total dismay of the aviation and security industries, the Twin Towers in Manhattan were destroyed, the Pentagon in Washington DC was badly damaged and 3,000 people lost their lives. It was a monumental crime against humanity and an aviation tragedy of unprecedented proportions.

In the decade before 11 September, hijackings were rare, as not only did the crime seem to be out of vogue, but also havens for hijackers had diminished considerably as Third World governments had become less tolerant of such behaviour. Security at airports had been tightened extensively and metal detectors, the searching and X-raying of hand and hold baggage, and the identifying of individual suitcases had all helped to improve safety, not only with regard to hijackings, but to bomb scares as well. The authorities also seemed much more able to cope with terrorists and the risk of imprisonment for such criminals was high. On occasions, culprits were even slain. The action of authorities and the implementation of security measures appeared to be effective but, at the time, no one imagined that any group of perpetrators would be prepared to commit mass suicide and cause death and destruction on such a massive scale.

Prior to 11 September, individual countries, and even airlines within the same country, did not conform to a unified approach to security but adopted various attitudes in combating terrorism in the air. In the United States, for example, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) forbade passengers’ visits to the flight deck during flight for all airlines. The cockpit door was locked at all times and on some flights armed sky marshals were carried. In some other countries, crews were themselves encouraged to physically resist hijacking attempts.

The laws of most European nations, and procedures on their airlines, permitted a more relaxed attitude to flight deck access. It was believed, not unreasonably, that determined terrorists armed with anything from a knife to a small firearm could easily overpower an unarmed crew by force, and that the line of least resistance was the safest approach for passengers. Hijackings, in fact, although sometimes bloody and violent, had rarely resulted in an aircraft accident and experience had shown that once overpowered, crews complying with terrorists’ instructions could best maintain safety. The locked door policy and the barring of passengers to the cockpit in the air on US aircraft had never been a totally effective deterrent in stopping forced entry to the flight deck or in preventing the unlawful seizure of an aircraft by determined assailants, as evidenced by the events of 11 September. In addition, in the pre-11 September era, it was not unusual for terrorists to threaten to attack passengers if the flight crew refused to unlock the cockpit door. It was a very callous captain indeed who could listen to passengers being injured, or even killed, outside the door while continuing to deny access to the flight deck, especially since the evidence indicated that the line of least resistance was the safest. The evidence also indicated that once terrorists seized control the likely outcome was damage being caused only to the aircraft and that, in almost all cases, most, if not all, passengers would eventually be freed. Since 11 September, of course, the restricting of access to the flight deck has become of paramount importance and every effort is being made to prevent forced entry by the installation of secure cockpit doors.

The strengthening of flight deck doors and the policy of keeping them securely locked in flight is now a key feature in preventing any repetition of the 11 September atrocity. The design of the new secure doors varies slightly, but they are mostly Kevlar armoured and are locked by a crossbar locking device of which the main component is a 19 mm (0.75 in) steel bar that can withstand a 680 kg (1,500 lb) force. The door itself must also be able to withstand the ramming force of a fully laden food trolley weighing 136 kg (300 lb). Almost any security system can eventually be defeated by a determined attacker, of course, but the resistance of the door is designed to give the flight crew time to land, or to adopt other procedures such as violent movement of the controls to throw the attackers off balance, or depressurising the cabin to render the assailants unconscious. The doors, however, are not designed to contain the impact of a bomb, as it is assumed that an explosive device large enough to blow any secure barrier would probably destroy the aircraft anyway. The door and bulkhead are also only ballistic resistant and not bullet proof, as heightened security at airports is expected to prevent firearms being boarded, as it did on 11 September.

The Israelis lead the world in aviation security, and access to the flight decks on El Al, for example, is via two reinforced doors with a sterile area between. The arrangement prevents an attacker rushing the cockpit when one of the doors is open, and the system is being studied for longer-term security solutions. In the meantime, the programme is continuing with a single secure door system and the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) requires completion on US aircraft by April 2003. The retrofit is a daunting task and, as other nations follow suit, the number of commercial aircraft involved could be as many as 10,000 worldwide, with the estimated cost being $2 billion.

The installation of secure cockpit doors, however, creates as many safety problems as it solves security requirements. To begin with, crew co-operation in an emergency is vital, and a firmly locked door between flight and cabin crews does nothing for crew communications. A further problem is the occurrence of a sudden depressurisation. A locked door forming a secure barrier system could create dangerous loads on the structure if unequal pressures resulted on either side of the door and bulkhead. Secure cockpit doors are, therefore, provided with hinged panels and vents arranged to be opened by quick-release latches, triggered by a pressure rate sensor, if an explosive decompression occurs. The integral strength of the door, however, is maintained with the latches in place and anti-jam panels are also fitted to allow trapped flight crew to escape from the cockpit in the event of an accident. The doors can be opened from the outside by the operation of locks via numeric keypads that can be overridden by the pilots, and some door systems can also be locked and unlocked remotely from the cockpit centre-pedestal.

Another feature being introduced to improve security in the air is a video camera surveillance system for monitoring cabin activity, whereby the behaviour of passengers can be viewed from a display on the flight deck. The use of closed-circuit television (CCTV) is widespread in the security industry at large, of course, and has now become as important an issue as secure cockpit doors for security in the air. There is little doubt it will become a mandatory aviation item. Surveillance equipment produced to date includes systems with a minimum of four cameras, effective for both day and night use, and a touchscreen monitor on the flight deck that can display up to four video images. Also integral to the system is a crew alert wireless pager that can be activated by a flight attendant pressing a ‘panic button’ to silently alert the pilots of an emergency in the cabin. The locations of the four cameras are two displaying different views outside the flight deck door, one above and one just aft in the ceiling, giving sight of a 2.4 m (8 ft) approach area to the cockpit, a third in the forward galley and a fourth at the front of the cabin looking rearwards down the aisle. Unlocking of the flight deck door from the outside using the numeric pads produces an aural and visual warning that alerts the pilots to check the identity of the intruder on the cockpit monitor.

Air marshals have been in use in the US for some time although their numbers have been small and their duties restricted mostly to international flights where the risk factor was considered high. Elsewhere there has been a reluctance to employ sky marshals but, on airlines such as El Al, their use has been extensive. Attitudes changed after 11 September, especially in the United States, and sky marshals are now carried on flights as deemed necessary, and are required to be on board all flights operating into and out of Washington National Airport, owing to its proximity to so many US government buildings. In the event of a confrontation with attackers, any shooting in flight, fortunately, will not pose the same risks as previously. Sky marshals’ weapons will not be loaded with standard ammunition, but will fire a compressed, powdered metal bullet that will disintegrate on impact with a hard surface such as the fuselage. It will, however, still penetrate soft skin.

Other national governments are more sceptical of licensing the use of armed sky marshals and are doubtful of their effectiveness. They also fear the risk of a law-abiding passenger being shot. Marshals will require to be constantly vigilant while remaining incognito, and the task is considered difficult. It is also argued that terrorists who are sufficiently clever to get themselves and weapons past a sophisticated airport security system will be clever enough to deal with any sky marshals on board. Many actions are available to a determined team of terrorists to flush out and identify on-board marshals. Sky marshals could, of course, offer a very useful deterrent against a group of unarmed hijackers. A team of big, powerful terrorists trained in unarmed combat would not need weapons to create havoc on an aircraft. Assistance from marshals would also prove useful in a violent air rage incident or with a violent mentally disturbed person, especially if a large, strong person was involved.

There is also a proposal in the United States to arm pilots, and the American Airline Pilots Association (ALPA) supports the plan. The pilots’ firearms, however, would only ever be considered as a last line of defence. Weapons would only be used in the event of a total failure of the security system, with sky marshals being overwhelmed and attackers smashing through the flight deck door. The ensuing shoot-out might be akin to the gunfight at the OK Corral but would be preferable to a repeat of an 11 September scenario.

Secure flight deck doors, cabin-surveillance cameras and sky marshals are all second-level defence systems that assume a breakdown of security at airports, and the real task is to prevent all undesirable individuals of any kind and weapons of any description getting aboard an aircraft in the first place. Whatever the approach in the air, therefore, the answer lies in strict security precautions at airports.

Sophisticated security arrangements have been in place in Europe for many years. As far back as 1988, the catalyst for the upgrading of airport security systems throughout the continent was the destruction of Pan American Flight 103 over Lockerbie in Scotland. Clearly, the bomb had been planted at a European airport. A comprehensive security infrastructure emerged in which metal detectors, the X-raying and searching of hand baggage and the identifying and scanning of hold baggage became commonplace. In the United States the X-raying and search of passengers and carry-on baggage were effective, but the reconciliation and X-raying of hold luggage was not a feature on domestic flights. Since 11 September, airport security throughout the world has been upgraded, and police and military personnel at many international airports now assist security staff. Hand luggage is restricted and any sharp objects such as penknives, scissors and nail files are not permitted on board. Even eyelash curlers are prohibited. The terrorists who hijacked flights on 11 September carried on board carpet cutters and were able to inflict serious injury. These small knives had light plastic handles with very sharp blades and were difficult to detect. Now any item that is possible to fashion into a sharp object is banned. The 100 per cent reconciliation of luggage with every passenger and the scanning of all hold baggage before loading is also the ultimate aim

The equipment and procedures required for the detection and prevention of weapons of all kinds being boarded are in place at airports and the screening of passengers themselves is now a priority. Any determined assailant, or potentially violent individual, armed or unarmed, poses a threat, and suspects must be prevented from boarding an aircraft in the first place. One solution is the screening and profiling of passengers. The aim of screening techniques now being introduced, however, is not only to reassure the travelling public by being visible and effective, but also to prevent delays by being as quick and as unobtrusive as possible. Advanced screening systems offer identification of individual passengers by biometric techniques. Sophisticated computers can identify passengers by means, for example, of finger and palm prints, and by iris, voice and face recognition. As a result, passengers can easily be traced and identified from reservation, through check-in to boarding, and the procedure can also be used by immigration and emigration services. Databases maintained by security agencies can also be searched for behavioural characteristics or criminal records, depending on the privacy laws of the country. Even information as simple as an address, travel to certain destinations or the method of ticket payment can target an individual for additional inspection. Clearly some countries are considered suspect and a one-way ticket paid for by cash can raise concern. The small number of travellers considered as possible threats, plus some others selected at random, can be subjected to further security measures. Once again the Israelis lead the world in the profiling process, and at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, for example, passengers are questioned before boarding. Highly trained security officers conduct interviews and can select passengers for additional security checks. Failure to answer questions convincingly and the displaying of stress-related behavioural patterns and body movements can alert staff to a possible suspect. If the security officer is not satisfied, the suspect is cross-examined by a senior officer and their luggage searched. Ultimately, of course, a suspicious individual can be denied boarding. Passenger profiling is known to be effective but, in some countries, certain aspects are in breach of civil rights and the process has to be adapted to conform to national laws.

Effective profiling of passengers not only assists in detecting terrorists but can also help to deny boarding to other undesirables such as the potentially violent. The incidence of air rage, for example, is increasing alarmingly. Air rage incidents tend to range from non-violent scuffles between unruly passengers to vicious attacks on crew. One of the worst events aboard a UK aircraft in recent years occurred in October 1998 on an Airtours charter flight from London Gatwick to Malaga in the south of Spain. A passenger, who had been drinking heavily in the terminal, was permitted to board, and it was clear to the crew when he arrived at the aircraft that he was drunk. The captain was informed and the drunken passenger was told to sit at the back of the aircraft and was refused alcohol. The drunk, however, was abusive and disruptive on the journey and the police were asked to meet the aircraft in Malaga. On arrival, whilst waiting for the officers to board, the troublemaker attacked a stewardess with an empty vodka bottle. The drunk smashed the bottle on the left side of the flight attendant’s head and continued to attack her by jabbing the broken bottle into her face, then into her arm and back as she tried to protect herself. The assailant was restrained by passengers but not before the stewardess was left permanently scarred. The violent drunk, who should never have been permitted to board in the first place, was sentenced by a Spanish court to four years in prison.

On occasions, the actions of the emotionally disturbed or mentally ill passenger have also been known to disrupt flights. Such disturbances normally follow similar patterns to those of air rage, and range from the non-violent, but upsetting, to the extremely violent. Events involving the emotionally disturbed and mentally ill frequently occur without warning and often when the unfortunates are travelling alone and the crew have not been informed that a mentally unstable person is on board. Disturbances from air rage and the mentally unstable normally involve violence being restricted to the cabin, with flight attendants in the front line. On the very rare occasion, however, the actions of the emotionally disturbed or mentally ill have involved flight crew and have been extremely violent. As a result of an incident in 1987, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) in America ordered all cockpit doors of US aircraft to be locked in flight. An armed male passenger, who turned out to be a disgruntled former employee, intruded into the cockpit of a Pacific Southwest flight over California and shot dead both the captain and the co-pilot. The aircraft crashed, killing all on board. In May 2000, a mentally unbalanced passenger aboard an All Nippon Airways Boeing 747-400 burst on to the flight deck with a knife and fatally stabbed the captain. The assailant was able to carry a knife on board owing to a security loophole, now closed, at Haneda domestic airport in Tokyo. After the incident, airlines in Japan ordered flight deck doors to be locked in flight and banned visits to the cockpit. Although both the above attacks on flight crew had been extremely violent, on each occasion the incidents were considered sufficiently isolated not to warrant responses on an international scale.

Prior to 11 September, no one imagined that the strategy of terrorists would change from hijacking passenger aircraft for bargaining purposes to the seizing of aircraft to use as weapons of mass destruction. Security measures now in place at airports and on board aircraft can prevent a recurrence of such an event and can help deny boarding to all undesirables or, if they do breach the first level of security and board, can contain their destructive actions. The new procedures will also prevent a recurrence of the violent attacks on flight crew such as those that occurred in 1987 and May 2000. Had such measures been in place in December 2000, the system would also have prevented a large, strong, mentally unstable man boarding an aircraft, forcing an entry to the flight deck and causing unbelievable havoc.

Thursday 28 December 2000 was not a typical grey, winter’s day in London, but it was still cold. The wind from the west was brisk and the temperature a chilly 3°C (37°F). Rain and sleety showers had been evident earlier in the day from a partly clouded sky but some sunshine had appeared in the afternoon. A thin sliver of the new moon had risen in the morning and set during the early evening, so by late evening the sky was black. As passengers arrived at London Gatwick’s North Terminal for the late evening departure of British Airways flight BA 2069 to Nairobi, the temperature had dropped to near zero, but the conditions were still dry. Many passengers were leaving London for a winter break in Africa and they may have thought longingly of the weather at their destination, where the temperature in Nairobi that day had been 27°C (81°F).

The British Airways 22:20 departure to Nairobi was one of the last flights of the day to leave the North Terminal. With most aircraft departed, the terminal was quiet and many passengers awaiting the flight mingled in the near empty building close to Departure Gate 54, or in the shops still open in the main concourse. Others more fortunate waited comfortably in the First and Club Class lounges, amongst whom were some well-known and distinguished guests. Bryan Ferry, the rock star, with his wife and teenage son were amongst them. The Ferry family was on the way to a vacation in Zanzibar and was flying to Nairobi on the first leg of the journey. Also waiting in one of the lounges was Jemima Khan, wife of the former Pakistani cricket captain, Imran Khan. With Mrs Khan were her two young children, her brother and her mother, Lady Annabel Goldsmith, widow of the businessman Sir James Goldsmith.

That evening’s BA 2069 service to Nairobi, callsign Speedbird 2069, was being operated by a Boeing 747-400 aircraft, registration G-BNLM. One of the last 747s to depart the North Terminal that day, the aircraft was parked nose-in to the building at Gate 54 as the crew prepared for the waiting passengers. On board the aircraft, the commander, Captain Bill Hagan and his co-pilot, Senior First Officer (SFO) Phil Watson, were proceeding through their departure checks. A third pilot, SFO Richard Webb, was also on board for in-flight relief purposes. The journey time from London to Nairobi, including taxiing times at either end, was eight and a half hours and, with the addition of pre- and post-flight procedures, produced a total duty time of ten hours. Although the 747-400 could be flown by only two pilots, the limitations on duty flight times did not permit two pilots to operate for ten hours on such a late evening departure. SFO Webb, therefore, was on board to take the place of each pilot in turn as he rested in a bunk to the rear of the flight deck, thus maintaining two pilots in the cockpit for most of the flight. All emergency procedures in the cruise, however, can be performed by only one pilot, so one of the two could take a short break for any quick visits off the flight deck that might be required. Such a process avoided the resting pilot being disturbed and the procedure worked well. Captain Hagan was taking his wife and two children with him on the trip, and they also waited in the terminal. The crew’s stopover in Nairobi spanned New Year’s Eve and the family had planned to be together for the celebration.

One feature of a late evening departure is that passengers are usually less stressed in the not so busy atmosphere of the terminal. The travellers often arrive early at the airport and are usually less active as they get tired. Many are also in transit from other flights. At check-in people are mostly quiet and at the gate they wait patiently for boarding. One passenger at the check-in desk for BA 2069 that evening, however, was not quite so stable and was drawing attention to himself. The gentleman in question was a Mr Paul Kefa Mukonyi, a man of rather large proportions, tall and well built, and with a shaved head. Mr Mukonyi was a Kenyan national returning home and at only twenty-seven was fit and strong. The Kenyan was simply dressed in a brown nylon jacket with light-coloured pants so, apart from his size, there was nothing unusual about his appearance. Something, however, was bothering Paul Mukonyi at check-in and he seemed confused.

Earlier that day Mr Mukonyi, who had been studying in France, had purchased a return ticket for his journey at a travel agent in Lyon and had paid almost £1,500 in cash. He had then travelled on British Airways from Lyon to London on an early evening flight and was transiting Gatwick Airport for the second leg of his journey home on BA 2069 to Nairobi. On such flights passengers and their baggage are normally checked-in at departure all the way through the transit stop to destination without further formalities. Seats are normally allocated for both sectors and boarding cards issued. Perhaps it was the fact that Paul Mukonyi had probably already been checked-in for BA 2069 in Lyon that was confusing the Kenyan, but there was no doubt that something was bothering him. At the check-in desk the staff did not view the gentleman as disruptive or violent, but were sufficiently concerned by his confusion to require him to be escorted to the departure gate. On arrival at Gate 54 under BA ground staff escort, the dispatcher, who was responsible for co-ordinating the departure arrangements, was summoned to talk to Mr Mukonyi. The Kenyan asked the dispatcher to call the police and, since the gentleman’s bewildered state was obvious, he complied with the request.

As other passengers waited in line to board at Gate 54, two police officers arrived to interview the Kenyan. The gentleman was clearly confused and mumbled about guns being smuggled on board. The police managed to piece together from his ramblings that Paul Mukonyi believed he had been followed from France and that he feared his pursuer. He warned the police that the person following him might try to board the aircraft with guns and drugs. The police reassured the Kenyan that security was sufficiently tight to prevent guns being boarded and that he should not be concerned in that respect. Although, in the words of the police, his manner was ‘paranoid, agitated and confused’, he gave no indication of a disruptive or violent nature. The officers could also find no evidence to substantiate his story. After interviewing the Kenyan for about ten minutes, the Sussex police officers decided that the captain of flight BA 2069 should be informed of his behaviour, and they escorted the Kenyan to the aircraft. At the door they consulted with the Cabin Services Director (CSD), who was the chief stewardess aboard. The police offered her their opinion that, although they were concerned by the man’s incoherent talk and his apparent paranoia, their impression was that his confused condition was symptomatic of a fear of flying. Although they were not able to resolve the reasons for his confusion, the officers did not express concern that the Kenyan had mental health problems or that he was violent by nature. In addition, the officers explained, Mr Mukonyi had not committed any offence and they could not prevent him boarding by arresting him. In the opinion of the police, the Kenyan was simply a nervous flyer and was ‘confused but fit to travel’. It was their duty to inform the captain of the man’s behaviour, however, and they asked the CSD to liaise with Captain Hagan. After consulting with the captain on the flight deck, the CSD returned to inform the police that under the circumstances Captain Hagan would accept the passenger for travel. The police handed over the confused gentleman to the CSD but, before departing, advised that the crew keep an eye on the Kenyan and that his behaviour be monitored. Paul Mukonyi boarded the aircraft and made himself as comfortable as a very big man could in his ‘tourist’ seat in the World Traveller economy section.

As the last of the passengers took their seats, the doors were shut and the aircraft was made ready to depart. The 379 passengers, sixteen cabin crew and three flight crew, made a total of 398 souls on board. A few minutes after scheduled departure time, the 747-400 pushed back from the gate, taxied out to Runway 24 and took off into the fresh westerly breeze shortly before 23:00. The big jet banked after take-off, following the instrument departure, and turned to head east toward Dover, the Channel and the Continent. As Speedbird 2069 climbed over Northern Europe, the cabin crew began the drinks round. Mr Mukonyi, meanwhile, sat quietly in his seat and did not speak to anyone. He kept himself to himself, ignored his fellow passengers and bothered no one. It seemed that the police assessment of the situation had been correct and that the Kenyan had calmed down as the flight progressed. Unknown to anyone on board at the time, however, the big man’s mind was anything but settled.

Paul Mukonyi was, in fact, a mentally ill and very sick young man who was suffering from paranoid delusions. A doctor might have described his condition at the time as a ‘delusionary disorder of the persecutory type’ and, although his persecution was imaginary, his fear was real. The Kenyan was studying tourism at university in Lyon and recently had been under a lot of pressure with exams. He was known to be a very bright student, but his present paranoid and anxious condition may have been a result of exam stress. No matter how his sickness had been triggered, however, there was no doubt in Mr Mukonyi’s mind that he considered himself to be in mortal danger. While studying in France he had been overwhelmed with the fear that his life was at risk and he imagined he was being followed by people who were trying to kill him. He felt compelled to escape from Lyon and to return home for a short while to tell his parents that he believed his life to be in danger. The purchase of the return ticket on the spur of the moment from the travel agent earlier that day, and the payment of the ticket in cash, were evidence of his compulsion to flee. Mr Mukonyi’s swift departure from Lyon, however, had not allayed his fears for, as he had mumbled rather incoherently to the police at Gatwick, he imagined his pursuers had followed him from France and that he was still at risk.

The Kenyan sat silently in his seat, but the remoteness from his fellow passengers was deceptive as he still feared his pursuers could be aboard. His dread that he was still at risk of attack may have been beginning to consume his mind but, if he was suddenly overwhelmed by fear, how would he act? The nature of the young man’s sickness was such that his actions would probably not be planned or predetermined, and that any outburst resulting from his condition was likely to be spontaneous. As previous events had hinted, the big man was likely to be suffering terrible pressures resulting from his mind being crowded with confusion, anxiety and fear. For how long could Paul Mukonyi withstand the pressure? As the 747-400 approached its cruising altitude, the Kenyan sat like a ticking bomb that might explode at any time.

G-BNLM settled in the cruise at 33,000 feet (10,000 metres) and headed south-east bound across Europe, flying over France and Italy towards the southern Greek island of Crete and the eastern Mediterranean Sea. The meal service followed the drinks round and, as the trays were collected in, the passengers began to settle down for the night ahead. The 747-400 crossed the north coast of Egypt, just over eighty miles to the west of Alexandria, about three and a half hours into the flight, with about four and half hours journey time of the route over Africa remaining. In the absence of the moon the night was black, but clear, and the lights along the coast, plus the flares from oil wells, were plainly visible from the darkened flight deck. Speedbird 2069 proceeded southbound under Cairo Air Traffic Control. In the cabin the lights had been dimmed after the sale of duty-free, which followed the meal service, and the only illumination was from the glow of the nightlights and the flicker of movie screens. London time was now just before 02:30 on 29 December 2000. While the few passengers still awake watched films, the others, by now very tired, wrapped themselves in blankets in the hope of catching some sleep. Kenyan time was 05:30, three hours ahead of London, and the local dawn was expected in just over two hours. Estimated arrival in Nairobi was 10:00 local time.

Speedbird 2069 continued southbound, more or less following the course of the Nile as it meandered below. Not far to the east of the route lay the sights of man’s ancient history: the pyramids at Giza, the Valley of the Kings at Luxor and the ancient temples of Rameses II at Abu Simbel, moved by engineers to higher ground to escape the flood waters of the Aswan dam. Following the route by day is an interesting exercise but in the blackness of the night the flickering of lights was all that could be seen. The weight of G-BNLM was now sufficiently reduced by fuel consumption to permit cruise at a higher level, and the aircraft was cleared to climb to 37,000 feet (11,300 metres). In the cabin, the flight attendants began their rest breaks, and off-duty crew members attempted to snatch some sleep in the cabin crew rest area situated above the ceiling at the tail of the aircraft. The remaining crew members manned the galleys or patrolled the quiet and darkened cabins. On the flight deck, progress continued as planned as the 747-400 crossed the border from Egypt into northern Sudan on airway Upper Amber (UA) 727. Speedbird 2069 was now no longer under radar control and was also outside the range of VHF (very high frequency) radio cover with Cairo. Reports would now have to be transmitted over long-range HF (high frequency) radio with Khartoum. HF radio is affected by atmospheric conditions and is frequently subject to static noise. On occasions it is even impossible to establish contact with a distant station. As a safety precaution all aircraft also transmitted position reports on 126.9 MHz, a frequency reserved for air-to-air communications over Africa. Meanwhile, the flight crew had also begun their rest breaks and Captain Hagan had retired to the crew bunk for some sleep. The relief pilot, SFO Webb, now occupied the captain’s seat, and the two experienced first officers operated the radios, kept the logs up to date, maintained a weather eye on the radar screens for storm clouds and monitored navigation, engine and flight displays. The flight crew bunk area was to the aft and left of the cockpit and was very close by, so Captain Hagan could be summoned at a moment’s notice if required. Behind the two pilots was the closed but unlocked door of the cockpit. Speedbird 2069 now fell within range of Khartoum VHF radio on 124.7 MHz and contact was established. Khartoum, lying at the confluence of the Blue and White Niles, displayed its lights ahead brightly in the blackness of the night, then slipped beneath the nose as the aircraft continued southbound on airway UA 727. One hundred and fifty miles to the south of Khartoum, with G-BNLM still cruising at 37,000 feet (11,300 metres), the route lay abeam the town of El Obeid in south-central Sudan. With progress so quiet, SFO Richard Webb took the opportunity to pop out of the flight deck to use the toilet just aft of the flight deck door, leaving his colleague, SFO Phil Watson, alone in the right-hand seat. The time now was 04:45 in the morning London time, 07:45 Nairobi local time. The sun still lay just below the horizon to the east, but the diffuse light of the almost new day was beginning to permeate the grey December morning. Behind the flight deck, in the upper deck section of Club Class, the passengers were asleep or half asleep, apart from two children watching a film. Likewise, in other sections of the aircraft, people were mostly asleep or dozing in the quiet and darkened cabins. Only part of the cabin crew was on duty while the others rested and only one pilot remained in charge on the flight deck. If the fate of unfortunate timing was to play a part and anything untoward was to happen now, the moment could not have been worse. In the meantime, a large Kenyan man in the World Traveller economy section had stirred from his position, stepped into the aisle and had begun moving towards the forward end of the aircraft.

What was happening in Paul Mukonyi’s head as he wandered in the cabin was difficult to say, but he appeared to be suffering some form of paranoiac panic attack. It seemed his anxiety and fear had completely deranged his mind and that he had lost control of his actions. His movements, however, were more confused than purposeful. He did not march determinedly in a positive direction but ambled up the aisle in a hesitant and uncertain manner. The Kenyan did not appear to know where he was going and, as he strolled in a confused state in the cabin, he mumbled incoherently to himself. Had the big man proceeded in a rushed and aggressive manner his actions might have caused alarm, but as he ambled quietly and mumbled softly to himself his movements went mostly unobserved. Mr Mukonyi continued his stroll through the World Traveller cabin and, after a while, found himself at the bottom of the stairs leading to the part of the Club Class section on the upper deck. Slowly he began to mount the staircase. The Kenyan ambled past the children watching a film in the upper deck Club Class section, past the sleeping Brian Ferry and his family, and approached the unlocked cockpit door. Outside the flight deck he hesitated, appearing, once again, to be confused as to his actions and intentions. For a short while he hovered in the vicinity of the flight deck, mumbling constantly, but whether talking to himself or praying was not apparent. After a few minutes Mr Mukonyi appeared to have resolved his confusion and he moved to open the cockpit door. Once again, had his actions been rushed and noisy, he would have drawn attention to himself, and he might even have alerted SFO Webb in the nearby toilet, but he continued to move silently. Slowly he turned the door handle, entered the cockpit quietly and gently closed the flight deck door behind him. To SFO Watson, sitting alone at the controls in the right hand seat, Mukonyi’s entrance was no different than if his colleague, SFO Webb, had returned to the flight deck.

Without warning and without even uttering a sound Mukonyi threw himself across the cockpit at SFO Watson. Whether the Kenyan imagined he could protect himself by seizing control of the aircraft or end his predicament by committing suicide is not known, but his drastic action had a devastating effect. SFO Watson turned sharply at the movement to find diving towards him a huge hulk of a man who was so bulky he seemed to the first officer to be wearing at least six layers of clothing. The first officer noticed a determined look of intent in Paul Mukonyi’s eyes as he thrust himself over the central pedestal that lay between the pilots’ seats. The Kenyan lunged over Watson’s left shoulder and leaned right over him, grabbing the control column and pulling violently. The autopilot was engaged, as is normal in the cruise and, when required, is usually disconnected by the pressing of a button on the control column. The force of the pull was so severe, however, that the autopilot disconnected itself. SFO Watson hit the big Kenyan and tried to put him in an arm lock. He also shouted loudly for help. The nose pitched up 26° above the horizon and the aircraft began to climb, with the wings rocking from side to side as the deranged man wrestled with the first officer and the controls. The violent inputs to the control column were such that the bank angle oscillated 30° to the left and right. Phil Watson’s view of the flight instruments was totally obscured by the upper torso of the Kenyan as he lay across Watson’s lap and pinned him to his seat. He could feel the wild movements of the aircraft but without a view of the instrument displays the first officer was unaware of the flight profile. ‘He was all over the place,’ stated SFO Watson, ‘leaning across the instrument panel and between me and the windscreen so I couldn’t see anything outside.’ As the speed decayed, the autothrottle, which had remained engaged although the autopilot had disconnected, sensed the loss of speed and advanced the thrust levers to apply full power. Phil Watson fought with all his might to free Mr Mukonyi from the controls, but his actions were in vain. Captain Bill Hagan, in the crew rest area to the rear of the flight deck, was immediately roused from his slumbers by the noise and commotion and jumped up from the bunk. Quickly he leapt into the cockpit and raced to assist his struggling colleague. ‘It was obviously pretty frightening’, the captain stated. ‘When I got back on the flight deck there was this guy built like Mike Tyson fighting with the first officer, who was flying the aircraft. He was like a man possessed.’ Captain Hagan immediately jumped on the attacker’s back and tried to wrestle him away.

The aircraft’s pitch-up attitude, however, was maintained by the big man still pulling back on the control column and the indicated airspeed continued to reduce. When flying at 37,000 feet (11,300 metres) the 747 cruised at Mach 0.845 with an indicated speed in the rarefied atmosphere of 280 knots on the airspeed tape. G-BNLM climbed 3,000 feet (900 metres), ascending to 40,000 feet (12,200 metres), and the speed loss became critical. The indicated airspeed, despite the autothrottles still applying full power, now fell dangerously low to 165 knots. At 40,000 feet (12,200 metres), with an indicated airspeed of only 165 knots, there was insufficient airflow over the wings to sustain the 747 in flight, and the aircraft stalled and dropped from the sky. The nose plunged from an attitude of 26° above the horizon to 20° below, while the left wing dropped sharply as the aircraft banked steeply to the left. As the 747 plummeted earthwards out of control Hagan and Watson fought desperately to free the strong Kenyan from the control column.

In the cabin, the violent movement of the aircraft caused extreme alarm amongst the mostly drowsy passengers in their seats. To make matters worse, the struggle on the flight deck appeared to have caused some switches on the pilots’ overhead panel to be knocked. The night lighting extinguished in the cabin, leaving the passengers in darkness and adding to the confusion. The sensation of dropping from the sky was terrifying as the aircraft nose lurched downwards, and some of those resting without seat belts fastened were flung around in the blackness. The emergency oxygen switch also appeared to have been triggered by the struggle and oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, further alarming the occupants. Hand luggage tumbled from overhead lockers that had flown open and other items on seats were thrown around. Many people screamed with fright. Jemima Khan’s brother, Benjamin Goldsmith, stated that ‘suddenly the plane went into this violent, violent dive, like shuddering, and went very, very steeply downwards. Everyone was woken up by the screaming.’ Katie Laybourne, a nineteen-year-old student going on holiday with a friend, said, ‘We dropped and dropped. It was a real nightmare.’ A doctor from Portland, Oregon, also described the scene. ‘A couple of people bounced up quite a bit, the plane was making some very weird noises. It was like a roller coaster.’

On the flight deck the situation was getting out of hand as the two pilots still failed to dislodge Mr Mukonyi from the controls. In less than a minute from the launch of the attack by the big Kenyan, all 398 people on board were now in mortal danger as the 747 plunged from the sky. The left wing continued to drop and the wings rolled through the vertical to 94°. The nose still pitched down 20° below the horizon and thousands of feet had been lost. If the aircraft were to continue its roll manoeuvre it might roll on its back and recovery might be impossible. Desperate circumstances require desperate measures and Captain Hagan felt that the only thing to do to break the big man off was to stick his finger in his eye. Hagan poked his finger hard into the attacker’s right eye and Mukonyi winced in pain. The action had the desired effect for, to protect himself, the Kenyan finally slackened his iron grip on the control column. With the big man in so much pain Bill Hagan thought he had a chance of pulling him away and with all his strength he began to drag the Kenyan off. SFO Richard Webb, who had left the flight deck only a few minutes earlier, rushed back to the cockpit at the sound of the commotion and assisted his captain in removing Mukonyi. In Club Class, close behind the flight deck, sat Mr Clarke Bynum, a tall ex-basketball player from South Carolina. He had been awakened by the shouts for help from the flight deck and the dramatic changes of engine noise. From his seat he could see by the horizon visible throughout the window that the aircraft was in a dive. He felt compelled to intervene and, as he opened the cockpit door, saw what appeared to be Mukonyi wrestling with the first officer in the seat and the other two pilots trying to drag him off. Hagan and Webb, using all their strength, finally managed to pull the deranged man clear and, as they did so, the tall Mr Bynum was able to assist in restraining him. Unfortunately, as the Kenyan released his grip on the controls, the pulling back of the column induced nose-up inputs which tightened the turn and made a bad situation worse. SFO Phil Watson, still strapped in the right-hand seat, was now able to view the flight displays and get his hands back on the controls. It was going to be a difficult task, however, to get the aircraft under control after such violent manoeuvres and to recover from such an unusual attitude. By now the 747 had dropped about 8,000 feet (2,400 metres) from its peak of 40,000 feet (12,200 metres) and was still descending rapidly in a steep dive with the wings banked through the vertical and the aircraft threatening to roll on its back. Fortunately, however, the autothrottles had remained engaged throughout the struggle and had automatically closed to idle power as the speed had increased sharply in the steep descent. Fortunately, also, SFO Phil Watson was a cool and able pilot.