IMAGE

During WWII my father worked for a contract flying school that trained British pilots.  After the war the company formed Pioneer Air Lines, a regional carrier in Texas.  Dad landed the job of station manager in Abilene,  a small city 150 miles west of Fort Worth.

My clearest memories are between 1947-1950.  I spent a lot of time at the airport and when pilots had a layover in Abilene they would stay at our house.  How well I remember those men.  All were veterans and treated me like a little prince.  They would regale me with stories of flying the "Hump" in Burma or flying cargo and personnel around China.  Some flew bombing raids into Germany.  I had models of the airplanes they flew hanging from my bedroom ceiling.  These men were like gods to me.  Their image was seared into my mind.  I dreamed of being just like them when I grew up.

As sometimes happens in life things turn out the way you hoped, so in time, I found myself a pilot for Delta Air Lines.  Those young gods I had admired in my youth were now senior captains for Delta and other airlines.   Their image was still seared in my mind.  I still wanted to be just like them.  However, I was soon to learn that the image I revered came through many experiences that shaped their character.

My education began on one of my first flights as a new Second Officer.  The gold braid on my sleeves was still shiny and my hat hadn't taken on that "20 mission" look.

I was Second Officer on a DC-6 flying from Chicago to Atlanta with stops in Cincinnati and Chattanooga.  In the 60's airport terminals hadn't changed much since the war.  We parked parallel to the gate, as close to the terminal as possible, then stairs were rolled out to the airplane.  Passengers had to walk across the ramp, as did the crew.

There had been a late snow in Cincinnati so the ramp was covered with a dirty slush as I walked back to the DC-6 from Operations.  I had been there to get the paperwork for the next leg of our flight.  Back then paperwork meant real paper, people talked to people and information was sent by teletype.

As I approached the tail of my aircraft, a catering truck was parked at the aft service door loading box lunches.  I looked over at our gate and could see the passengers watching me.  I could also see my image in the windows, gold braids shining, wings flashing.  I was very impressed with myself.  So much so I forgot about the catering truck, and as I passed behind it it backed into me, knocking me down.  I landed on my hands and knees, covering my gold braid and pants legs with slush.  My hat was lying upside down in the dirty snow.  Fortunately, the only thing hurt was my image.

Quick as a cat I jumped up, brushed myself off, picked up my hat, and imperially walked to the stairs and boarded the aircraft.  I entered the cockpit, shut the door and remained there for the rest of the flight to Atlanta.

Over the years I had many other character building experiences and in time I to became a Captain.  I had joined the ranks of those men that I had so revered.  On my first trip I was both excited and anxious, so I went to my aircraft a little early just to sit in that hallowed left seat and reflect on my new elevated status.  When the flight attendants boarded I got up, went to the toilet, and headed back to brief the A line attendant.  I introduced myself and gave my most professional briefing.  After the little ceremony was over, a smile spread across her pretty face and she said, "Captain, I could take you more seriously if your fly were zipped up."

Kim Warren

BLOWOUT!

 As a Airline Captain I was on day 2 of a 3 day rotation flying a B-727-200.   We were on our way from LA to Atlanta with stops in Las Vegas and Dallas.  In Dallas we would change aircraft and flight number for our flight on to Atlanta.   The flight from LA to Las Vegas had been uneventful; however it was mid-summer and the temp was a disagreeable 110 degrees on the ground in Vegas.   After about 45 minutes we pushed back from the gate and taxied out for takeoff.  I climbed the 727 to Flight Level 350 or 35,000 ft and we settled in for the flight to DFW at Mach .83.  It was a CAVU day, ceiling and visibility unlimited.  Center had given us the scenic departure over Grand Canyon, but as is usual for a flight from Las Vegas, the passengers were subdued and uninterested.
 Near Tuba City, as I sat  there in the left seat thinking about the vast unpopulated areas of our country, a loud explosion shook the aircraft and caused gear warning lights to come on.  Thinking we had an explosive decompression our reactions were instantaneous.  All 3 of us grabbed our quick downing oxygen masks and I started to make an emergency decent while telling the First Officer to call center and advise them.  We had already lost a thousand feet when I realized the cabin pressure was okay, so I leveled off at 33,000 ft and told the First Officer to tell center we were maintaining FL330 and to stand by while we sorted things out.  I then made a PA reassuring the passengers.
The right landing gear unsafe light was on, as was the gear door open light.  The aircraft had a vibration and I could feel some drag, so I slowed to maximum gear down speed for that altitude of Mach .80.   It appeared we had experienced an explosion in the right wheel well, that the gear door was open and the landing gear had come unlocked.
There are viewing ports in the floor of the tourist section, so I sent the Flight engineer back to take a look.   On his return he said that the outboard tire had exploded and blown the gear door off the aircraft and the landing gear was indeed hanging down.  He also said the hydraulic cylinder that operated the gear door was hanging by its hydraulic line with about a 3 foot piece of the door still attached to it and was flapping around badly.  If the line were to break we would lose our hydraulic system and be in serious trouble.  About then one of the Flight Attendants called and said someone needs to come take a look at the right wing, so I sent the Second Officer back again for a look.  When he got back he said, “You are not going to believe this, but the skin on top of the right wing is wrinkled from the fuselage outboard for about 15 feet.”
Since our situation seemed somewhat stable I decided to continue the flight.  I told the Second Officer (Flight Engineer) to call company and tell them what had happened and that we are continuing to Dallas.  I then called center myself and explained our situation requesting a vector direct to DFW and due to our reduced speed gave him our new ETA.  He rogered my request and gave me a heading to fly.  As we continued our flight I remember wondering if anyone would ever find our landing gear door.
As we got closer to DFW we were handed over to FT Worth center and he cleared me pilot discretion to FL240.  As we approached FL240 FT Worth center handed me over to DFW approach control.  I switched to APP and he cleared me for a straight in approach for runway 17R and told me to call the tower on 118.3 at the outer marker.
We ran the approach checklist and then the before landing checklist.  The flaps and spoilers worked normally and when I called for gear down, thank God, we got three green lights indicating a safe landing gear condition.  Of course, the gear door open light remained on.
When we called the tower he said the emergency equipment was standing by and that we were cleared to land.  I rogered the landing clearance and asked him to look us over as we got closer.  On short final he called and said it looked like the landing gear was down, but he could see stuff flapping in the wind.
As soon as the main gear touched down the right wheel burst into flames engulfing the entire landing gear assembly.  Thankfully I made the high speed turnoff before the other tire blew out.  The fire trucks had already started shooting us with foam on the landing roll out.  As soon we stopped the flight attendants evacuated the passengers by the aft stairs and corralling them some distance away, loaded them on buses and took them to the terminal.
While the firetrucks finished putting out the fire we ran the necessary checklists to shut down and secure the aircraft.  I remember when we came to the checklist item calling for the starting of the auxillary power unit, which is in the right wheel well, I told the SO not to start it.  This turned out to be a good decision, as I later learned it had been blown off its mounts and would probably have caused another fire.
After securing the aircraft we exited through the aft stairs only to find everyone had left except one firetruck, which stayed behind in case the fire restarted.  I asked him to call our operations for us and ask them to come get us.  In a few minutes a car showed up and we headed to the terminal.
By this time we were late for our next flight.  The three of us ran down the concourse to our gate to be greeted by a grim faced agent with a, it's about time look on his face.  As we boarded the aircraft I glanced down the center isle and was greeted with 147 what a way to run an airline expressions.
A couple of weeks later I went by our maintenance hangar to find out what happened.  Apparently the tire had been damaged either on landing or during the takeoff roll weakening it.  The tires are very high pressure tires at ground level.  At high altitude, they can become bombs.
The explosion had torn off the large gear door, blown the APU off its mounts, shoved the main keel beam over enough to shear off one of its bolts and wrinkle the skin on the wing.   The fact that the hydraulic line didn't break is a testimony to American engineering.
Even though it cost a lot of money to repair and the aircraft was out of service for a while, I never heard a word about the incident from management or the FAA.  I hadn't even had time   to walk away whistling "The High and the Mighty."
Kim Warren

TEARS FOR TRACY

For lost 

youth

 beauty

 handsome young men

  joy of a new day

 dreams she had.

TEARS FOR TRACY

For lost

 love

 family

  friends.

TEARS FOR TRACY

For 

the wasted lives

the ugliness in people.

TEARS FOR TRACY

 Oh how I wish her life had  been different.

Comfort her LORD!

Kim Warren