T-Tail-Tall-Tail:
A Night to Remember
Baran A. A. Khan
From January of 1977 to early August of 1990, I was
a C-141 A & B model transport aircraft loadmaster at
Travis AFB, CA. I ended up attaining 4,031 hours of
flight time as a load, with a smattering of about 45
hours trying to upgrade to Flight Engineer.
That did not pan out, and I left the service in
1990. Under a cloud of personal issues, which of
course did not jive with what was expected of an NCO
potentially moving up to E-6. I almost checked out,
but when family and friends lent a hand, I slowly
came through.
So much so that in 1999, after attending an AMT
School, I achieved the FAA Mechanics Certificate,
A&P. A good friend came by the flight line at
Oakland North Airport, where I was putting the Oil
filter on a Cessna 152. She was an ART Engineer in
the Squadron I was in. I had avoided all contact
with anyone from the flying days, save a couple of
incredibly special folks.
She told me that they had started to have reunions,
and that I should come up. I was hesitant. When I
went to my first reunion, I was totally overwhelmed
by feelings. And ghosts. Folks whom I owed real
amends to had gone to the hangar in the sky.
I remember when the big reunion of 141 folks
happened in 2006, when the aircraft was officially
retired. I did not go to that. I was busy working
and being a single dad.
But I remembered one mission, one that I, nor I
believe any of the other members of that crew, would
ever forget. And apart from words between the crew
right after the mission, I do not believe anyone
talked about it. For nineteen years.
I sent an email to our reunion society. I had by
then gotten into reminiscing "out in the system
moments" and gotten good laughs. I always started
out by penning "Once upon a time" "Oops, wrong
story." "Now, this ain't no bull?"
In June of 1987, I was flying with a mixed
Active-Duty crew (7th and 86th MAS pilots and
engineers) with me and one of my buddies from the
710th MAS being the loads on this one. That happened
at Travis quite a bit at the time, and as a
dedicated man day hog trougher, I was in my element.
We were doing a Pacific Round robin, with a Clark AB
to Diego Garcia, crew rest then back to Clark to
pick up the Air-Evac back to Hickam and then home.
It was
the afternoon we were departing Diego, and I was at
the aircraft checking the cargo and doing the Form F
while my partner was running the checklists.
The Navy crew chief comes back by the ramp and hands
me his radio, saying, "Your AC needs to tell you
something." I acknowledged him and called base ops.
The AC came on, and said that the WX at Clark, for
that matter the whole Philippines was going bad in a
hurry, and he needed to know the maximum weight in
fuel we could add configured as we were. Our
aircraft was one of the restricted ones, the ones
that had cracks in the main strap forward of the
wing, which meant that a 2.25 G-Load component was
the diet for flight, especially at or near max
loads. I went through the charts and found that he
could tell the guys to add 20,000 lbs. fuel if he
felt we needed it, and that would be okay with our
payload of about 39K cargo. He added every pound!
It was a nice warm (not hot as hell) day at the
plane. The crew got here in about fifteen minutes,
and we went through the motions of getting ready to
go. We had no pax.
Engine start, taxi, cabin report "Secured." I had my
bed all made up, and made sure everyone had their
coffee, meals, and that all the customs paperwork
was done. It was an eight-and a half hour leg, and I
slept almost six of it.
As we got over the South China Sea, I went up in the
flight station, and sat at the Nav's table so I
could get a view of the radar. There was radio
chatter between the A/C and Clark about the weather.
I believe the pilots had discussed going direct
Manila, which would have cut a half hour off our
ETA, but Clark would have none of it. The closer we
got to the PI, the more the radar made our
predicament noticeable.
On every range, save 250NM, it painted red. And at
39,000 ft, we were feeling the storm.
As we made landfall, the AC requested Manila control
for immediate divert to Manila Intl.
Five minutes later, Manila closed for hail and gusts
of up to forty-five knots. We pressed on to Cubi
Point NAS.
Five minutes later, Cubi closed for being below
minimums. I looked at the scanner and panel
engineer. They had that content look, so I figured
that the extra fuel was going to get us there. We
pressed on over the "hill" to Clark. It was then,
that Clark declared closed due to extreme hail, and
wind gusts around 55 knots.
A look at the radar showed nothing but red. I took a
casual look at the fuel panel. The totalizer showed
about 15,000, and a quick glance at the gauges made
me think it was telling the truth.
We were doing a slow descent the entire time, to
help with fuel consumption. But time marched on. No
word for almost 40 minutes. I glanced at the panel
engineer. He had gone completely pale. White as a
ghost.
We were down to less than 4,000 lbs. of fuel. The
A/C said, "to Bleep with this", and declared an
emergency. We dove for the approach fix. We were at
14,000 feet when he did this.
At that moment, the approach controller stated
"there seems to be a clearing at the end of the
runway. You will want to land now." Approach check,
then right away "Gear down, Before Landing Checklist."
Checklists were done nicely, and I was watching the
engineer and his panel. He already had his left hand
on the APU Start Switch. I looked at him, and he
said "I am going to start it as soon as the wheels
spin up."
I understood then. It would be the one way to keep
control of the plane If we flamed out. But that was
not going to happen, I thought. At five hundred? #1
engine flamed out. Two or three seconds later, #3
engine flamed out. On touchdown the engineer twisted
that knob. The APU started.
And the other two engines flamed out. He switched
the power selector, and the lights came back on. We
were all smiling big, shit-eating grins. Eighty
knots, and then we slowed down to make that big left
turn up that little hill to our parking spot, and
the APU died. Maybe going fifteen, then ten knots,
then five, then no movement at all. The emergency
lights were on, and I could see the marshallers
waving their wands at this stupid ass crew who must
have gone to sleep. We stopped about twenty-five
feet short of the chocks.
This was the most chilling event of my career. Yet,
it took a long time to really register in my gut.
The A/C never admitted that we flamed out. And he
was a little more than mad at me for saying that we
did. Never officially, but within the crew, I let it
be known.
And I emphasized that it was his decision to add the
20,000lbs. of fuel at Diego Garcia that made the
difference. I remember playing a game of pool with
him when I was at Altus for Engineer TTU, and he
just would not give me an inch. "Tony, we did not
run out of goldarned fuel." I never lost respect for
him, though. I would have flown to hell and back
with that crew.
When it comes to flying, and our experiences flying
worldwide airlift from America, I still get
goosebumps. Show me "The High and the Mighty" and I
will watch it again, and again. God was with us when
we landed at Clark AB, RPI at zero-dark-thirty on
June 4, 1987. And God Bless y'all.
Baran Anthony Andrew Khan Former TSgt E-6 USAFR