by Kevin McClarty
My father, mother and I were returning home from Vancouver, British Columbia. It was my mother's first flight ever. (We had rented a car and driven up and were flying home). Our flight was on a United Airlines DC8, a large, 4 engine jet. It was 1967. My sister was away at college.
It was not my first flight, my one prior flight having been on a private plane. It was, however, my first flight in a large, commercial jet. I remember how excited I was while walking around the airport, listening to the planes and watching the flight attendants get ready to depart. I remember how important it was to me to be by a window. And so there I sat, watching the plane taxi out to the runway and listening to the engines roar. I remember listening intently while the stewardess explained the oxygen mask procedures, not knowing that just a few minutes later we would be doing it for real.
The plane became airborne and then just as we leveled off, and the "Fasten Your Seatbelt" and "No Smoking" signs went off, something went wrong. Flames started rushing out of the engine and then there was smoke bellowing out of everywhere. The flight attendants started running around in the plane. The "No Smoking" sign came on but this time it was flashing red! The "Fasten Your Seatbelt" sign came on as well.
The pilot came on and said that we had a "situation here," and said that he was in touch with Traffic Control in Vancouver, BC. He advised that this was a four engine jet that could easily operate with three engines and that he was going to try to "drop" the engine that was on fire. He said that the flight might get kind of bumpy while he attempted to dump the engine. And try he did but to no avail. The engine would not drop!
Suddenly there was an explosion and then a large hole ripped in the undercarriage of the wing! I could see it all so clearly, so very clearly. My window seat was right over the wing! By this time there was a loud smoke alarm going off in the plane and you could smell the jet fumes! The only human sounds were of stewardesses conferring with one another and one Catholic nun praying the Rosary from the back of the plane.
All of the adults were told to put on the oxygen masks first and then they were instructed to put them onto their children. My father put mine on me. And then he told me how much he loved me.
The pilot said that he was going to try to make an emergency landing on a snowfield that we were approaching. We started to descend towards the snowfield. The passengers sighed at the thought of landing in a snowfield in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. I got goose bumps up my spine and wondered if the plane was going to break open and expose us to the harsh elements of the Far North as we landed at over 200 miles per hour! Now I was wishing that this plane were a single engine Cessna that could just glide onto the field or the kind of plane from which I could parachute. At age 12 and as boyish as I was, I still was very sorry that we now were in a jet.
The nun’s Rosary praying had intensified in volume. Others had joined in, mainly women. I began to wonder if that’s what the angels sounded like. I told myself that perhaps I’d be finding out in a few minutes. Then I told myself that I was a strong, healthy boy and that I was invincible. I would survive this crash no matter how we landed and I would save everyone else! I was the warrior boy of the sky! I was the invisible, brave, strong, defiant hero! Nothing would stop me!
“The snowfield should be just fine. We’ll come out OK,” the pilot announced. My father’s hands intertwined those of my mother and me. He sat in the middle, my mother in the aisle. She had wanted to be as far from the window as possible because of her fear of heights. Now I think everybody had a fear of heights except, of course, for me because I was the brave, invincible, undefeated, 12 year old hero boy!
And then came the solemn news from the pilot: “Ladies and Gentlemen, I am afraid that I have some bad news. I have done a radar telegraphy analysis of the snowfield and it is not long enough to accommodate our aircraft. We are going to have to try to ascend and to make it to the nearest airport. That airport is Calgary Airport. It is 100 miles away. We should be fine. Keep your fingers crossed. Godspeed.”
My heart sank. I began to realize that perhaps we really were not going to make it. My father did not look at me. He was stoic. So was everybody else, except of course for the nun.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy Womb Jesus…”
It bellowed on like a symphonic choir. It became very therapeutic and calming, almost hypnotic. At least I had something else to listen to besides the chaos of uncertainty.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I have just been in contact with the control tower at Calgary International Airport. They are now preparing the field for us and have cleared the runways of all incoming and outgoing air traffic. They are expecting us.”
My biggest concern at the moment was the ascent on the three remaining engines and with an engine on fire and a wing that was fully exposed down to the rivets. I watched intently as the pilot lowered the flaps to start the ascent. He put full thrust onto the three remaining engines and the whole cabin shook. The mountain ahead of us threatened us, as does a brick wall to an auto racer!
I felt the sweat pouring from my arms and running down the sides of my face. My feet and legs were swelled up like balloons. I wondered how my teacher would tell the class of my death. “By the way, boys and girls, Kevin was involved in a little plane crash over Easter vacation and met the angels.”
“Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death."
Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven…”
And then I thought of it, Heaven and Earth! I literally did not know if I was going to end up in Heaven or on Earth in the next few minutes! I, Kevin McClarty, the invincible, 12 year-old boy hero, was in the Twilight Zone! No matter where I was, I would come out on top because I was hero boy!
We made it over the top of the mountain! I dared look out the window and saw mountain goats walking on the slopes of the mountain over which he had just crossed. We were going to make it!
The pilot came on the speaker again: “Ladies and Gentlemen. We just made it over a huge hurtle there as you can see. We will be preparing for landing now at Calgary International Airport. Please listen carefully to the instructions of the flight attendants and do exactly as they say. Please note the exit closest to your seat. The landing will be rough. Please use the oxygen masks and crash pillows as instructed by the flight attendants. Godspeed.”
Needless to say, the landing was extremely bumpy. We had no usage of the "reverse thrust" of the jet engines and could not use the brakes for fear that the sparks generated from the brakes would cause an explosion. And so the only thing the pilot could do was to wait for the plane to come to a stop on its own. And it did, five and a half miles down the runway!!
Then the only sound I could hear was sirens! Then the aircraft doors flew open and the firemen were yelling, "Out, Out, Out!!" to everyone.
And then I saw them, the true heroes of mercy: The American Red Cross. They were there with their emergency trucks, trailers, teams and equipment. Mainly they were there with their love. Over 300 stretchers lay on the ground and nurses abounded among nearly all of them. They were ready for us. Each and every person was checked over medically. Nobody was hurt. However, some were treated for shock and for smoke inhalation and so on.
That evening our flight was the very first story on the CBS News with Walter Cronkite! I learned from the news story that I was one of only a handful of children on the flight. The successful landing was attributed to none other than the heroism of the Senior Captain and Co-Pilot, both of whom we met after the crash-landing at a reception that was held later. At the age of only 12, I had become a part of history and I had lived that history through some very terrifying moments!
To this day, when I see a Red Cross truck or van or hear the rumble of a commercial jet overhead, tiny tears start to dribble down my face. When I fly and the steward or stewardess starts to demonstrate the oxygen mask procedure, I still shake to this day. Unlike most of the other passengers on the plane, I know that this is real stuff that he or she is describing.
I will always have a tender place in my heart for the American Red Cross and for anyone wearing a United Airlines uniform. Once you have been through something like this, it never leaves you. Sometimes the rumbling sounds of a jet engine take me back to a childhood that almost ended so abruptly at age 12.
