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A R C H I V E S

CAPTAIN CARGO

Captain Cargo grew up in Southern Africa, where, at the age of nineteen, he started flying by accident. After ten years spraying tsetse flies, locusts and other nasty insects, interspersed with spells flying tourists and Hemingway wannabes around the Okavango Delta and Kalahari Desert, he moved to the United Kingdom. After obtaining a UK ATPL, he joined an airline that flies freight for a major parcel delivery company. He has been doing it ever since, and now flies a Boeing 757 freighter around Europe, mainly at night. Mail to: CaptainCargo@aircargonews.com

Lightning Reactions

     A year or so ago I was flying into Rome Fuimicino one evening with the weather radar unservicable and CB’s all around. The radar had worked fine until we saw the first flash of lightning, when it had decided to go into hibernatation. We were on an intercept heading for the ILS when there was a sudden flash, a dull whump, flags appeared on all my instruments, and I even felt movement on the rudder pedals.
     “What the heck..?” were my first words, when I should have been calling “Identify!” It was fairly obvious we’d been struck by lightning. The flags disappeared as Max, the flight engineer, switched essential to an operating generator. We’d lost number three generator, and Max was starting on the check-list before I’d called for it.
     “Localizer alive”, said Willy, the F/O. Willy was a career First Officer, about forty-five and just not good enough for command. Sadly, he still believed that one day the company would see the error of their ways and promote him. I turned onto the localizer and armed the flight director.
     “Speed check flap fifteen”, I called.
     “Fifteen fifteen green”, Willy called.
     “Gear down landing checks.” It was really rough, a CB off to the right sparking through the gloom. Heavy rain lashed the windshield.
     “I haven’t finished the one generator inop. checklist”, Max said.
     “Never mind the checklist. Let’s get this thing on the ground.” I was not keen on staying up here with nature’s finest any longer than neccessary.
     “I’m just going to pull one of the pack fan circuit breakers”, Max said.
     “OK. Then give me the landing checks.” I called for the rest of the flap and we were switched over to the tower frequency. I kept an extra ten knots. The wind was pretty much straight down the runway, which was covered in standing water.
     “I’m going to use reverse”, I infomed the other two. We usually only used idle reverse, due to noise, but I wanted to make sure the wheels were spinning before I hit the brakes. I’d never aquaplaned, but I wasn’t going to start now. I called for the wipers, and their dreadful racket filled the cockpit, allowing me about one second’s clear vision in every three. The turbulence was horrendous, the instruments dancing around in front of my eyes, airspeed fluctuating by twenty knots or so. We touched down, too gently for such a wet runway, and I pulled the speedbrake and selected reverse, pulling about 1.6 epr. I didn’t touch the brakes until we were through a hundred knots. We cleared the runway, and I called for the after landing checks. Willy selected the flaps up and switched the transponder to standby while I switched off the landing lights and strobes.
     “After landing checks complete”, Max called. “And the one generator inop checklist is also complete.”
     “Thanks, Max. Switch that horrible noise off.“ He reached up and switched off the wipers. The rain was abating, and almost stopped as we parked on stand. We’d have to get the radar fixed before we left, and get an inspection done on the aircraft for lightning damage. We weren’t going anywhere today. Funny how reality is never the same as the simulator.
     I needed a beer.