Like most folks in the days
before the 9/11 attacks, I was enjoying the beautiful end-of
summer weather. On Sunday morning, September 9, I drove the
75 miles from my home in Lower Saucon Township to work at
Newark airport. I would be flying the New York Giants to
Denver for the first Monday Night Football game of the
season. It was a great day for an airplane ride.
The mood among my fellow pilots
in Operations was upbeat. We traded light banter and
compared summer vacation experiences. My friend, Vic
Saracini, another Pennsylvania pilot, was starting a
four-day trip crisscrossing the country. His first stop—San
Francisco. Always the kidder, Vic and I traded lighthearted
barbs about each other’s flying skills (I was Air Force, he
was Navy).
Back in the cabin on the
red-eye flight home two days later, the Giants were feeling
down from the previous night’s defeat to the Broncos. But in
the cockpit, it was a joy to be maneuvering the aircraft
through picture-perfect clear skies above New Jersey just as
the sun was breaking the horizon on that September 11th
morning.
This memory stands in stark
contrast to the fact that as I exited the aircraft, I must
have walked right past the terrorists who were waiting in
the departure area to hijack United Airlines Flight 93. This
thought haunts me still. A couple of hours later, Vic’s
flight UA 175 out of Boston (by now he was on the third day
of his four-day trip) had been commandeered into the World
Trade Center’s south tower, and UA 93 had crashed near
Pittsburgh.
For me, the events of 9/11
were personal. I am a Boeing 767 pilot for United Airlines
based in New York. To do what they did, the terrorists had
to first brutally murder my friends and colleagues, the
pilots and flight attendants.
Confronting the shock and
grief of their loss was hard enough without also having to
face the thousands of deaths in New York, Washington, and
Pennsylvania. My thoughts went to the grieving families, the
safety of my country, the future of my company and my job,
and ultimately the effect of all of this on my family.
We airline pilots have seen
hijackings before, but not to this degree of destruction.
And we’ve long argued for appropriate security
countermeasures. When security lapses combine with the
downside of the business cycle, passenger loads decline and
the airlines we fly for suffer financially. In fact, no
industry has suffered more in the aftermath of 9/11 than
U.S. airlines.
After serving over 20 years
in the Air Force, transitioning from flying jet fighters to
commercial aviation was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.
During my military service, I fully accepted the inherent
risks involved in defending my country. But after I retired,
taking a job with a major airline meant the risks of being
shot down in hostile action were a thing of the past. In
fact, during infrequent in-flight emergencies, pilots
sometimes remark, “how bad can it get, nobody’s shooting at
us!” On 9/11, they were shooting, and we never knew what hit
us. Unlike flying a jet fighter, in a commercial transport
we can’t defend ourselves.
On Friday, 9/14, with pilots
and airplanes out of position throughout the country, United
was looking for volunteers to fly. I drove to Kennedy for a
transcontinental trip to San Francisco. As the departure
time kept slipping due to FBI security concerns at the
terminal, those of us in Operations compared notes on how to
thwart a hijacking without the benefit of firearms.
In the immediate aftermath
of the attacks, the reality that the intelligence community
had totally blown it was pretty hard to ignore. In the days
that followed, they had no idea how to prevent a repeat
hijacking. As if to underscore this point, the president
mobilized the National Guard to the front lines of the war
on terror, our nation’s airports.
Before 9/11, my union, the
Air Line Pilots Association (ALPA), had been arguing for
decades to correct certain security deficiencies. We wanted
impenetrable cockpit doors, competent airport security
screeners, and armed pilots, to name a few. The FAA and the
airlines opposed these efforts as being too expensive. In
the year since 9/11, however, Congress has mandated most of
ALPA’s recommendations and is considering the others.
The single most important
enhancement to airline security has been the installation of
secure cockpit doors. If they had been in place on 9/11—and
this is key—if both pilots and flight attendants had known
the nature of the suicide hijacking threat, those terrible
events would most likely not have occurred. Some people in
the hijacked planes would have been killed, but with the
cockpits secure, the pilots could have immediately landed
the planes. For future threats, arming pilots with, if not
firearms, then at least Tasers, will increase our chances
even more to successfully defend the cockpit.
Pilots carrying guns in the
cockpit is not new. Certain pilots were armed in the days
before airline deregulation, and military flying routinely
involves carrying a firearm strapped in the survival vest.
Entrusting pilots, one of the most highly screened and
tested groups in the country, with a way to actively defend
the cockpit is, to me, just common sense. In the event of a
security screening failure, armed pilots provide a last line
of defense.
In the year since 9/11,
flying remains the safest mode of travel. Deep down, I
believe the flying public knows this, and passengers will
return to the skies in greater numbers than before. Even
after 9/11, the most dangerous part of my job is the drive
to the airport.
First Officer Merrill Beyer, United
Published September 11, 2002 |