* * * * *
Tacloban, Leyte Island, Republic of the Philippines
Monday 16th December 1996
Unlike the 10th of December, when I flew a seven-leg day, today was supposed to be “easy,” a round trip to Puerto Princesa, then a round trip to Tacloban, resulting in four legs. However, when I began this “easy” schedule, little did I know how challenging it would be, resulting in my last flight for Grand Air.
Leyte Island lies southeast of Manila, and measures approximately
110 SM north-south, and nearly 40 SM at its widest point east-west. Leyte is mostly heavily forested and mountainous,
but the Leyte Valley in the
northeast is flat with a good deal of agriculture.
From Manila it took the 737 fifty-five minutes to fly the 306 NM (351.9
SM), using airway B-462, to Leyete’s Tacloban Airport, on a southeasterly
heading at 33,000 feet. Tacloban City
rests on the west edge of Cancabato Bay, and across the bay to the east, can be
found the airport sitting on a very narrow peninsula of land, reminding me of
the deck of an aircraft carrier. It has
a single runway, at 7,021 feet in length, which runs north to south (360°/180°
magnetic), with a single VOR instrument approach to Runway Three-Six;
restricted to daylight operations.
Officially, the airport was named Daniel Z. Romualdez
Airport, a politician and relative of Imelda
Romualdez-Marcos, the wife of the former late President Ferdinand
Marcos.
Tacloban’s Terminal and Control Tower.
On 25th May
1942, Japanese forces landed in Tacloban, signaling the beginning of their
two-year occupation of Leyte. They fortified the city, improved its airfield,
and made Tacloban a port of call for their navy. This was considered the darkest period in
Tacloban’s history, due to the incidences of torture and executions among its civilians
by Japanese forces. In response, Filipino
guerrilla groups operated at great risk throughout Leyte opposing the Japanese.
Ultimately Leyte was the first to be liberated by the combined Filipino and American forces, landing on the Tacloban and Palo beaches on 20th October 1944. These landings signaled the eventual victory of the Filipino and American forces and the fulfillment of MacArthur’s famous promise: "I Shall Return."
This is also where that famous photo of MacArthur
and his entourage was taken, wading ashore in knee-deep surf, at 13:30 hours
onto “Red Beach.” Where this happened
was on the northeastern shore of Leyte, barely four miles south of the Tacloban
Airport.
Today one can find the MacArthur Landing Memorial
National Park in Palo, Leyte. It’s close to MacArthur's actual landing at Dulag (Red Beach) with seven, double-life-sized
bronze statues of MacArthur and his entourage wading ashore through real water.
The Filipinos did a bang up job,
dear reader; the statues really impressed hell out of me.
On this Monday, zipping along in my 737 at 7 NM (8 SM) per minute,
enjoying the 16th of December 1996, from 33,000 feet, approaching
Tacloban from the northwest, I abruptly became uncomfortable at 100 NM (115 SM)
out from the airport. Encountering
various cloud layers below us, prompted me to scan the airfield’s location with
our colored radar; gradually discovering the green and yellow outlines of a
huge thunderstorm, with a solid red heart, engulfing the airport.
When this was revealed to me I requested a weather report from Tacloban
Approach Control.
No, dear reader, Tacloban didn’t
have an ATIS taped weather broadcast.
Whereby Approach Control nonchalantly advised me the
airport was now zero-zero caused by heavy rain, preventing me from landing, and
to go into a “Holding Pattern” over the Tacloban VOR.
The problem
was this, dear reader, the solid red heart of this massive thunderstorm sat
directly over the VOR Station! If we
attempted to “Hold” there, we’d be violently thrown around, causing my
passengers and crew to vomit, if our wings weren’t torn off first from our elderly,
worn-out, ex-WAL, twenty-six-year-old aircraft!
Immediately I pulled up the destination log on my portable Magellan
GPS. Found Cebu and selected “Direct”
from our present position. Instantly it
gave me the distance, time and heading.
I turned the 737 to this new heading.
Then advised Tacloban Approach I was exercising my “Emergency
Authority,” and proceeding direct to Cebu.
It was merely 82 NM (94.3 SM) and twenty-two minutes away.
Glumly, Tacloban Approach Control acknowledged with a “Roger...” then
told me to contact Cebu Approach Control on 120.0 and let them know I was
coming.
I glanced over at my First Officer.
Unfortunately I was saddled with one of the new, green Filipino
Co-Pilots. He was a nice kid, who had
scant jet experience and was always behind the curve. Therefore, I never let him fly the 737, and
in a situation like this, I had to do nearly all of the radio transmissions, as
well as fly the 737, making an arduous workload for one tired, old captain. At this moment he was shuffling loads of
approach plates, attempting to find the Cebu plate.
One must always have the
“Alternate” approach plate out and waiting, dear reader. For one seldom has time to perform
“library-research” in a jet!
When he finally located the Cebu plate, I told him to dial in the ATIS
for Cebu, on our VHF radio, and get the current weather. He did, and according to the taped broadcast
it was CAVOK at Cebu (meaning it was clear – no thunderstorms). Then I had him contact Cebu Approach to alert
them of our impending arrival.
We landed at the Mactan Airport serving Cebu, on little Mactan Island,
and I kept everyone on board as we refueled.
We had the APU (Auxiliary Power Unit) running everything, with both jet
engines shut down. Even so, I had
previously been having trouble with the APU, and, due to this and the bad
weather, I elected to top up all three of my fuel tanks...just in case.
After an hour on the ground, we were back in the air and was told by Tacloban
Approach Control that the airfield was now CAVOK (Ceiling and Visibility are
OK).
One great thing about the thunderstorms
in the tropics, dear reader, is they don’t stay put. Give them a half hour, and, either they
dissipate, or they rapidly move off in a different direction to hammer somebody
else.
As we descended out of 3,000 feet, getting clear of stratus cloud
layers, I could at last see the airfield and Runway Three-Six appeared all wet
and perfect. I then asked my Co-Pilot to
fire up the APU. He diligently ran the
checks and moved the switch to “Start.” After
a long, pregnant pause...nothing happened.
“Shit!”
I had him try two more “Start” attempts.
Fuck! Still nothing, dear reader, our APU was as
dead as Kelsey’s nuts.
The problem was this: I needed the APU to run all electrics, hydraulics
and air conditioning on the ground. Most
importantly, though, I needed the APU to start my engines. Philippine Airlines had all the necessary ground
power and air carts to provide these services at Tacloban, but refused to rent
them out to Grand Air, their competitor.
Hell, dear reader, I couldn’t even
purchase fuel from them! As you can
appreciate, I’m definitely up shit creek!
After we landed, as we taxied in, I had my Co-Pilot
attempt another “Start” of the APU...no joy.
It had given up the ghost.
I then told my Co-Pilot to advise the Control Tower of the following:
Firstly, our APU is “inop” and we’ll be running the left engine at the
gate.
Secondly, pass this on to our ground staff; inform them to unload and
load cargo and passengers exclusively on the right side of our aircraft.
I then rang for the Purser. When
she arrived at the cockpit, I gave her the same information, telling her to use
the R-1 Galley Service Door, on the 737’s right side, to deplane and load
passengers.
Running one engine at the gate,
dear reader, was in the SAUDIA flight operations manual for the 737. Of the six airlines that I had flown the 737
for, only SAUDIA had such a procedure.
Although never used, thank God I had the foresight to write it down.
As soon as we parked, I shutdown engine #2 (right wing
engine), then got out my crib notes on this procedure and went through its long
checklist. At present our left engine
was running everything at idle. Good
thing I put on extra fuel, for this “puppy” was really gobbling it up.
I won’t shine you on, dear reader,
at Tacloban this procedure was dangerous as hell. Not for me, instead for the people, dogs,
cats, monkeys and pushcarts wandering around the open ramp. I prayed no one, or nothing, would get sucked
into that gigantic vacuum cleaner on my left wing, and chopped into puppy-dog chow
by the spinning blades of its compressor.
Hopefully its deafening noise would chase everybody away.
In forty minutes flat we got ready to depart without turning anybody or
anything to “Doggy-Chow.” I then asked
the Tower to keep the area behind us clear, as I had to run up my left engine
to start the right engine. When the
Tower informed me I was “Cleared to start,” I ran up my left engine, got 30 PSI
duct pressure, and then executed a “Cross Bleed Start,” using bleed air from
the left engine to crank the right engine...which gratefully fired right up.
The wind had shifted - blowing from the south - so we were cleared to
use Runway One-Eight. After backtracking
down the runway to its end, I swung my 737 to face south, down the center of
the runway and into the wind.
However, dear reader, in spite of
being cleared for takeoff, for some strange reason I put the “show” on “pause”
and held my position. While I scanned
the water off my left and right sides, sparkling beautifully in the late
afternoon light; then took in the emerald, jungle-covered mountains in the far
distance, well beyond the airport, with flat-bottomed, billowing, white cumulus
clouds hanging above them. This view
inspired me to take a moment – allowing me to thank God I had chosen to be an
aviator - making me privy to such beauty.
After this episode of reverie, I came back to reality,
grasped both throttles and launched, as I had done at least a thousand times
before in my jaded aviation career. Except the roar of the turbine engines,
vibrating my viscera, was somehow different today.
I think it was my subconscious,
dear reader, telling me to get every second of pleasure out of this
flight...because it would be my last in a 737.
Upon lifting into the air, clearing the far end of the runway, then
cleaning up, retracting landing gear and flaps, I executed a wide-left climbing
turn in order to intercept airway B-462 back to Manila. Unwittingly this maneuver brought me almost
directly over the end of Runway One-Eight, where, merely a couple of minutes
before, I had been sitting on the ground daydreaming in my 737. I glanced at my altimeter, which registered
passing 4,000 feet and climbing. Then
looked back down at the runway; a simple, miniature white 18 painted on a
perfect, wet, black asphalt strip.
Causing me to marvel at the power these tired, old Pratt & Whitney turbo-jet
Dash-9 engines were producing; making me feel like Superman.
* * * * *
Later I spent a restless night pacing in my hotel room at Manila, consequently
reaching an inescapable decision regarding Grand Air’s lack of maintenance.
By this time Grand Air had a fleet of two ex-WAL 737s purchased from a
questionable aircraft dealer at Taiwan, who had kept both in storage and in
ill-repair for years. Both 737s had the
following broken equipment:
The right wing tank fuel gauge sat on “Zero,” indicating it was
inoperative. Maintenance would
drip-stick the tank only to come up with impossible numbers. Bottom line, I, as captain, never knew how
much fuel I actually had on board either 737.
As for pressurization, it had three systems: AUTO, the normal operating
system. STANDBY, a backup system in case
AUTO failed. And last was MANUAL, where
one manually opened and closed the pressurization outflow valve, when STANDBY
failed. Unbelievably we were flying both
737s in MANUAL, this last emergency mode.
In addition, the second 737 that Grand Air purchased had a serious
autopilot problem. When selecting
Manual, and attempting to use CWS (Control Wheel Steering) it froze the control
wheel! Was it experiencing a hydraulic
lock?
There were many more maintenance problems,
dear reader, which I won’t list for fear I’ll bore the socks off you. In short I’m courting a severe accident;
taking these sick birds out on the line is akin to attempting a Kamikaze
mission!
The next morning I grounded the 737 I was supposed to
fly to Cagayan, and took the aircraft’s maintenance log into the chief pilot’s
office. I went over faulty item after
item with him, summing up by pointing out most of them were required to be
fixed in ten days, according to the Philippine ATO (Air Transport Office). In contrast these faulty items were over
three months old! Since this 737 wasn’t
airworthy, I was violating the ATO law every time I hauled passengers in it;
risking suspension of my pilot’s license.
And you know what, dear reader, despite
the Filipino Chief Pilot risking the loss of a plane load of people, this miserable
SOB made it clear to me he couldn’t care less.
So I literally walked off the job.
Welcome to the Philippines, Mrs. Chisholm’s little boy.
The very next morning I caught the first flight back to Thailand.
My old alma mater, Air Florida, killed a plane load of passengers before they went bankrupt, dear reader.
* *
* * *
Comments
Post a Comment