The entry gives the Windsor flight in a page. This piece gives its first half as the National Transportation Safety Board’s report of February 1973 does, from the ramp agent’s knee to the stop on the runway, with the cockpit voice recorder’s transcript where the report has it; the companion piece “The cabin” gives the other half, behind the cockpit door and under the floor. The clock times in the narrative are Eastern Standard Time, as the report uses them; the recorder’s times are Greenwich, five hours on, and are given as minutes and seconds past the hour.
The ramp
Flight 96 was a DC-10-10, registration N103AA, serial 46503, delivered to American Airlines on 28 July 1971, with 2,142 hours of flying on it. It had left Los Angeles at 2:36 in the afternoon of 12 June 1972, forty-six minutes late because of passenger handling and air traffic control, and reached Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport at 6:36 without incident. It was due to go on to Buffalo and LaGuardia. At Detroit fuel, cargo and passengers were put aboard; the take-off weight was computed at 300,888 pounds, well under the maximum. Fifty-six passengers and a crew of eleven were aboard, three in the cockpit and eight in the cabin.
The aircraft’s log had one previous entry about the aft cargo door. On 3 March 1972 it would not close electrically and had to be latched by hand; the fix had been an adjustment to the door-closing switch. Three operators had by then reported the same trouble, and Douglas had issued Service Bulletin 52-27 on 30 May to recommend heavier wiring to the latch actuators. American had not done it, and did not have to. “No Airworthiness Directive pertaining to DC-10 cargo doors was in effect at the time of the accident.”
The last compartment to be secured before dispatch was the aft bulk cargo compartment. “The ramp service agent who serviced the aft cargo compartment had difficulty closing the door. He stated that he closed the door electrically. He listened for the motor to stop running and then attempted to close the door handle. This handle is designed to close the small vent door which is located on the cargo door, to position a lockpin behind a cam on each of the four latches and to open the circuit to the cockpit warning lights. The agent could not close the handle with normal force, so he applied additional force with his knee. This caused the handle to stow properly, but the vent door was closed in a slightly cocked position. The agent brought this to the attention of a mechanic who gave his approval for release of the aircraft. The flight departed the ramp at 1911 with the door in this condition.” The flight engineer said the cargo-door warning light never came on, during the taxi or at any time in the flight. “This light was designed to illuminate when any cargo door is not properly secured for flight.”
The crew
Captain Bryce McCormick was fifty-two and had been with American since May 1944; he held ratings on the DC-6 and DC-7, the 707 and 727, the Convair 990 and the DC-10, and had 24,043 hours, fifty-six of them in the DC-10, with his proficiency check on the type on 30 March 1972. First Officer Peter Whitney, thirty-four, had joined in September 1965 and had 7,947 hours, seventy-five in the DC-10. Flight Engineer Clayton Burke, fifty, had 13,898 hours and forty-five in the type. The first officer was flying.
Flight 96 was cleared to Runway 3 Right and took off at 7:20. Local control told it to maintain runway heading and handed it to departure, which cleared it to 6,000 feet and turned it on to airway V-554; it was then cleared to flight level 210 and to the Cleveland centre, whose Windsor sector took it. The recorder has the routine of it: “American ninety-six, Detroit departure radar contact climb and maintain six thousand.” “Right to zero six zero, American ninety-six.” “Flaps, up.” “Slats, up.” “Gear handle to,” and the sound of a click. At 24 minutes and 5 seconds the first officer queried a clearance: “Ah, correction was that two three zero?” “Two three zero American ninety-six report reaching.”
The thud
At 24 minutes and 25.5 seconds the captain said, “There goes a big one up there.” At 24 minutes and 37.5 seconds the cockpit area microphone recorded a “sound of high amplitude noise.” Someone said “Ah,” and an oath. At 35 seconds the captain: “What the hell was it? I wonder.” A whistle, “similar to human voice.” At 35.5 seconds the fire warning horn and the altitude warning horn began together. The captain, at 39 seconds: “We’ll pass the warning for the time being.” “Which one?” At 42.5 seconds the flight engineer: “We’ve hit something.” The first officer: “We’ve lost, lost an engine here.” The captain: “Ah, which one is it?” The engineer: “Two.” Then, “Number one is still good,” and, “And, ah, Captain, we’ll have to check out this.” An unidentified voice: “Okay, we apparently, Master Warning, this board’s got an engine fire over here. Yeah we got the engines, one and three.” The first officer: “Do we have, ah, hydraulics?” The captain: “No.” Then: “I’ve got full rudder here.”
The report’s narrative fills in what the microphone could not. “About 1925, while the airplane was at approximately 11,750 feet altitude and climbing at 260 knots indicated airspeed, the flightcrew heard and felt a definite ‘thud.’ Simultaneously, dust and dirt flew up into their faces, the thrust levers moved back to the idle position, and the airplane yawed to the right. The captain reported that he lost his vision momentarily; he thought that a midair collision had occurred and that the windshield had been lost.” He disengaged the autopilot and took the controls. “Nos. 1 and 3 engines responded to power application; however, the No. 2 engine thrust lever could not be moved. The airspeed was stabilized at 250 knots, and at this speed the aileron response was normal, elevator response was extremely sluggish, and directional control required continuous left aileron input. Rudder control was not available and the airplane remained in a right yaw.” He declared an emergency, and the centre cleared him back to Detroit by radar vectors.
Differential directions
At 25 minutes and 48 seconds Cleveland called: “American ninety-six, Cleveland.” The first officer: “We got one seven zero heading sir and, ah, maintaining twelve thousand.” “Nine six roger, type of emergency?” The captain: “Yeah, yes sir. We have a control problem, we have no rudder, got full jam, we’ve had something happen, I don’t know what it is.” The controller, at 26 minutes and 6 seconds, cleared them to 9,000 and offered vectors back to the ILS for Runway 3 and asked whether they wanted the equipment standing by. “‘Kay sir, ah, say again the heading and we’ll let down slowly to niner thousand.” At 27 minutes and 21 seconds the captain summed it up for the ground: “Okay now, we’ve got, ah, problem, I got a hole in the cabin, I think we’ve lost number two engine, we’ve got a jammed rudder full left rudder and we need to, ah, get down and make an approach, I guess Detroit Metro would be the best and, ah, can you vector us around?” “American nine six roger turn further right now heading’ll be two zero zero.” At 28 minutes and 25 seconds: “I have no rudder control whatsoever so our turns are gonna have to be very slow and cautious.” “Understand.”
Eight seconds later the first officer said, on the area microphone, the sentence that decided the next quarter of an hour: “Okay we’ve got full control on this though, however, so I guess we’re slow enough so we can probably use differential directions with engines, thank goodness it’s one and two we’ve got, one and three.” The wing engines would steer. Cleveland cleared them down to 5,000 and asked for their altitude; “eleven thousand two hundred,” the first officer answered at 29 minutes and 58 seconds. At 31 minutes and 12 seconds the captain: “Okay, give me about fifteen on the flaps now, watch it carefully.” The flight engineer, at 32 minutes: “We’ll be landing about two hundred ninety-two thousand.” They were out of 8,700 feet for 5,000 at 32 minutes and 45 seconds; turned back right to 280 at 48 seconds; cleared to 3,000 at 34 minutes and 28 seconds; and handed to Detroit approach at 35 minutes and 13 seconds. At 36 minutes and 8 seconds the first officer said, “We’ve got a nice rate of descent even if we have to touch down this way we’re doing well.” Approach turned them to 360, descending to 3,000, for the ILS to 3 Left, and gave the visibility as a mile and a half. The captain had asked for a long final so that the turns would be gentle; the controller planned a twenty-mile intercept.
The approach
“Well gimme the gear,” the captain said at 38 minutes and 40 seconds. At 39 minutes and 39 seconds: “Okay, here we’re coming into the ILS, I’m gonna start slowing her down, give me twenty-two on the flaps.” At 40 minutes and 59 seconds: “All right we got the green lights.” The report describes the approach. “During the initial part of the final approach the airspeed was 150 knots and the sink rate was approximately 800 feet per minute. Extension of the landing gear and 35° flaps increased the sink rate to 1,500 feet per minute. Additional thrust increased the airspeed to 160 to 165 knots and stabilized the sink rate at approximately 800 feet per minute. The remainder of the approach was made in this profile. The captain stated that the aircraft’s deck angle was extremely flat compared to that of a normal approach and that at touchdown, he had serious doubts if the landing gear was extended. He further stated that he used no stabilizer trim and that he and the first officer both had to apply back pressure on the controls to flare the airplane.” He had decided not to dump fuel “because of the unknown damage in the empennage area,” and he had shut down the tail engine on the way in, “because of limited elevator control,” so that the two wing engines could be used to hold the nose up.
Approach handed them to the tower at 41 minutes and 10 seconds: “American ninety-six, you’re two and a half miles from the marker, contact the tower one two one point one, good night.” “Good night, sir.” “American ninety-six cleared to land.” “Give me thirty-five on the flaps.” At 43 minutes and 38 seconds the captain said, “I have no rudder to straighten it out with when it hits.” At 43 minutes and 53.5 seconds the first officer: “Okay, now engines off at your discretion.” At 44 minutes and 55 seconds the captain, in the transcript’s capitals: “SHUT ‘EM DOWN.”
The runway
“The airplane landed at 1944. The airplane touched down 1,900 feet down the runway and immediately started to veer to the right. The captain applied reverse thrust to engines No. 1 and No. 3 and applied full left aileron. As the aircraft veered further right, the first officer applied full reverse thrust to the left engine and brought the right engine out of reverse. This action provided directional control, and the airplane paralleled the right side of the runway for 2,800 feet before it began a gradual left turn back to the runway. The airplane came to rest approximately 8,800 feet from the runway threshold. The nose and left main landing gear were on the runway surface, and the right main landing gear was off the runway surface.” The left turn at the end, the report found, was the rudder pedal’s doing: jammed full left, it had turned the nosewheel steering ten or twelve degrees that way, and as the aircraft slowed and the deflected rudder lost its force, the nosewheel took over. The captain ordered the emergency evacuation alarm after the aircraft stopped, and every passenger and crew member went down the slides.
The Board’s summary of what the crew had faced on the ground was “high approach speed (160 to 165 knots) to counteract high sink rate, no rudder control, 45° left aileron to counteract right yaw, no left brake, and uncertain nosewheel steering capability.” Its summary of how they had handled it was finding 14: “The Board commends the flightcrew for the manner in which they successfully coped with the unusual in-flight emergency.” Nineteen minutes had passed between the thud and the stop.