I was working my ass off, trying to hold the rocking DC-10 steady as we approached Los Angeles International Airport. We’d lost an outboard engine, unsuccessfully tried to relight it, and completed our emergency check lists.
Notifying the LAX controllers of our emergency, we’ve been cleared for an immediate approach. Now on final, about fifteen miles out, we are tracking the localizer inbound. We haven’t reached “Roman” yet, the final approach fix at glide-slope intercept.
Everybody’s sweating. It’s pitch black outside, and we’ve endured two hours of abnormal and emergency situation struggling to land safely. Now down to only two engines, and no hydraulics in the number one system, we reach the outer marker. I begin a let down, following the glide-slope to runway two-five-right on the south side of the airport.
“Engine fire!” screams the Second Officer, as red warning lights and fire bells pour more noise and adrenalin into our already intense cockpit.
The airplane yaws wildly to the right as the engineer and non-flying pilot pull back the power on the burning engine, and discharge the Halon. I increase the amount of left rudder pressure, fighting to keep the aircraft in control….my left leg is already quivering from the extra rudder pressure I’ve been keeping in.
Flying on one engine, I brain-fart, forgetting to get the flaps up, to firewall the power on the one remaining engine, and to dive for airspeed… speed is life right now. With our landing flaps still out, the drag is unforgiving. Shit, I’ve forgotten everything…our air speed deteriorates rapidly and we stall, the airplane is falling, plummeting, we are all screaming advise over each other’s panicky voices. We crash!
Maniacal screams pierce the silence. L.L. Bataan, Director of Training, “Do you know how many people you just killed?” Bataan, his neck-cords popping in rage, shrieks again “…well, do you realize how many people you just killed?”
My silence serves to infuriate him further, so he advises that “your fucking stupidity just killed a couple of hundred people on board this fucking airplane!”
I remind him that, in fact, I probably took out another few hundred people on the ground. “Truth be told, L.L., I think my fucking stupidity started another riot in Los Angeles. I figure, after the looting and insurrection, I bet millions die due to my fucking stupidity!”
L.L.’s not amused, but he has calmed down. He gives me another double engine failure and fire, and I get it right this time, landing smoothly to end the four-hour simulator session. “Welcome aboard, son, congratulations!”