| I was the captain on
Northwest Airlines Flight 35, a DC-10 inbound to Dulles
International Airport, on September 11, 2001. Our departure
from Amsterdam that morning was normal—I’d flown this flight
a number of times before. At position 30 West about halfway
into the flight, we heard other airplanes talking on the
common air traffic frequency (123.45) about an aircraft that
had hit the World Trade Center. Though tragic, we figured
that it was a navigational accident or something similar. A
few minutes later, we began to hear reports from SATCOM-equipped
aircraft that an airliner had hit the other tower, and that
one crashed at the Pentagon as well. We were unable to
contact our company to verify the details. All we had was HF
phone patch capability, but we couldn’t get a phone patch as
all of the HF frequencies were jammed. I called our purser
up front to discuss the possibility that we might be the
target of a hijacking, as our destination was Washington. We
were able to pretty much rule that out for a number of
reasons, and so we began to come up with a plan as we had
heard that all U.S. airspace was closed.
When we switched over to
Gander Control, they told us that all U.S. airspace was
indeed closed, and that we were to land at Stephenville,
Newfoundland. This seemed like a bad idea to me, as there
would be little or no passenger support there (Stephenville
was not a Northwest Airlines station). We were able to
obtain clearance to Montreal Dorval instead, and while we
were en route, ATC told us that Dorval had filled up. We
evaluated fuel and the availability of other NWA stations in
Canada, then got clearance to go to Toronto. As before, we
were diverted en route to Toronto as it had filled up with
U.S.-bound airliners. At that point, we set course for
Winnipeg, and halfway there, it filled too. All the while,
we were attempting to contact our company dispatchers. With
all that was going on, however, we never once talked to
dispatch the entire day as they were too busy working other
flights.
With fuel running low at
this point, we received clearance to land at Montreal
Mirabel airport. Upon landing, we were directed to a remote
pad with several other U.S. airliners. We were now caught in
a three-way jurisdictional dispute between the RCMP, the
local Montreal police, and the Mirabel airport police, and
no one knew what to do with us. I was able to establish cell
phone contact with our DC-10 fleet captain director and our
fleet training captain, both of whom went to our command
center in Minneapolis as soon as the attacks began. They
were extremely helpful in dealing with our
needs—specifically acquiring authorization for the
passengers to disembark into the terminal. As the captain, I
was the only person allowed off the aircraft to speak with
the police.
The four hours after landing
were spent having the aircraft searched, negotiating with
the RCMP to retrieve medications in the cargo hold, and
trying to get everyone to the terminal. Suffice it to say
that an abundance of tact and understanding when dealing
with the authorities went a very long way. We were finally
bused to the terminal, and at that point we had to do
whatever we could to keep the passengers together and
updated on the plan. About two hours after arriving at the
terminal, Northwest station personnel from Dorval showed up
to process the people and arrange for hotel rooms.
Once the passengers were
taken care of, our crew went to a distant hotel, and it was
at that point that I was finally able to see the replays of
the events of the day. I remember standing in front of my
TV, room key still in hand, watching the attacks—feeling
unspeakable anger followed by an insatiable desire for
vengeance as I said “You m-----------s are going to pay for
this” to my TV.
The next day—a Wednesday, I
believe—we met the passengers back at Mirabel. The Company
felt that U.S. airspace was about to reopen, and we were to
fly them to Washington. That clearance never came, of
course, and at the end of the day we were all back at the
hotel again. The next morning, Northwest put all the
passengers on buses to Washington, D.C., and we ferried the
empty aircraft to Detroit. The ride back into the U.S. was
an eerie one—no chatter on the radio, no contrails, nothing.
ATC told us we were one of the very first aircraft allowed
back into U.S. airspace. Upon parking at the International
Terminal in Detroit, I called our fleet captain director to
report “one Douglas DC-10 returned to Northwest Airlines.”
We then deadheaded home.
What did I learn from 9/11?
First, aircrew must be eternally vigilant and never
compromise security procedures. Second, regard every
skyjacking as a suicide mission and never ever
let them into the cockpit. This means having a good
defensive maneuver in mind should it come to that, and to
use the passengers to subdue a would-be hijacker. And third,
always wear the full uniform, including your hat. You may be
the only representative of your company for quite a while.
Be readily identifiable, and the passengers will respond far
better knowing that someone is in command.
Finally, my heart goes out
to the aircrew and passenger families, and all families who
lost loved ones that day. May God bless you, lighten your
burden, and bring you some semblance of peace and closure.
Captain Bob Kruse, Delta |
