call.”
“Don’t worry, Austin,” said Bill. “We have quite a bit to do yet. The de-icing truck just showed up and John just finished dripping number three main fuel tank due to a faulty gauge. Any sign of our clearance yet, Andy?” Murdock asked his first officer.
“No, Bill, but I am ever hopeful,” replied Andy, who had been pestering Stansted clearance center for twenty minutes to get an airway clearance.
“Anything I can do to help?” asked Austin.
“Well, you can oblige with some fresh coffee once we’re up and away, but no thanks, we’re just about ready to roll,” replied Murdock.
“OK, Bill, the figures for the number three look good, and I am showing all doors shut back here,” interjected Seymore, who liked check airmen about as much as he liked his mother-in-law.
“Thanks John,” said Bill.
“Ground, from the flight deck,”
“Go ahead, flight deck.”
“We’re all set up here, just awaiting clearance from ATC.”
“OK, do you want to get the de-icing going?”
“Yep, that’s a good idea; can you give me the type and mix?”
“Right, we’ll kick off now and we’re using type III, 75/25.” That indicated it was a mixture of 75 percent water and 25 percent alcohol. The mixture was good enough to remove the thin ice layer.
“Got that, ground.”
“OK Andy, one more request for start, please, and then the checklist.”
“Stansted ground, this is Global 102, ready for start, Charlie 22 with Alpha. Advising the controller of their parking spot and the weather information alphabet.”
“Global 102, cleared to start, call ready for pushback.”
“Global 102, roger, cleared to start.”
“Hallelujah!” muttered Bill.
The crew now busied themselves with the litany of the before-start check, while outside, hundreds of gallons of warm de-icing fluid were sprayed onto the huge wings by the ground crew. Ice thawed and melted, and was swept off the wing by the torrent, which then left a residue of glycol on the surface to protect against further accumulation. The whole plane was sprayed clean before the ground engineer on the headset by the massive front wheels reported to the captain that they were now ready for start. Moments later, the four huge Pratt and Whitney engines whined to life, and with the pushback truck connected to the nose gear, the plane was ready to go.
“Are there any new procedures we need to know about?” asked Murdock.
“Not really,” said Austin. “I am supposed to observe your departure procedures. The company has received a few departure noise violations out of here and they want me to make sure that everyone is adhering to the published departure.”
The Boeing 747 freighter is a two-deck aircraft. The lower level, called the main deck, has enough space to hold one hundred and twenty metric tons of general cargo and the upper level, referred to as the upper deck, is converted into crew quarters with enough space to accommodate four first-class seats and two divided rooms with bunks serving as sleeping quarters for any extra crew, and of course the galley that held the oven and the refrigerators for preparing meals. The only luxury the crew of a freighter lacks is the lack of presence of a flight attendant to cook meals. They would have to do that for themselves. The cockpit has three seats for the operating crew and two extra seats for observing crewmembers.
The aircraft was heading for Chicago O’Hare. The flight time was forecast to be eight hours even, and Austin was counting on getting about five or six hours of rest. He was not sure whether he would be able to sleep or not, but the rest would do him some good.
“Global 102, this is ground control, I have your clearance. Are you ready to copy?”
“Global 102, go ahead ground,” replied Andy, who was working the radios today while Bill Murdock was taxiing the aircraft and performing the take-off.
“Global 102, clear to the Chicago O’Hare airport, Clacton seven Romeo departure, runway two three, maintain flight level three one zero and squak 4240.”
“Roger that Global 102,” transmitted the first officer after reading back the whole clearance that was issued to him.
As they approached the runway, they were cleared for take-off. The aircraft was almost at its maximum take-off weight and the take-off roll took most of the runway, but other than that, the take off was very smooth and all procedures were picture perfect, which Austin knew would be. Once the crew was told that a check airman was going to be on board, they made sure everything was done by the book and their performance would be impeccable. Any reports of sloppy procedures were never observed and remained that, reports. Austin knew that all pilots were the same and it didn’t matter which company they worked for, it was by the book when they were being observed or given a check. That same book was out the window when they were on their own. He would even admit that he is guilty of the same crime, but he always contributed that to the pilot’s experience, and all the check airmen could do was to make sure that these guys followed procedure once in a while. He did know, however, that none of them would ignore safety in the name of airmanship. That was the one sure thing about professional pilots and that made him sleep better at night.
“Great job, guys,” said Austin, addressing all three crewmembers. “Keep up the good work, and now if you would excuse me, I will be retiring to one of the bunk beds for some rest, but please do wake me up before we start the approach into O’Hare if I am not up already.”
Once Austin left the cockpit and was out of earshot, Bill turned to the two other pilots. “I wonder how that poor bastard can get any sleep after all he’s been through. If that shit happened to me, I would have given up long ago. I really feel sorry for the guy and really admire him for pulling through even though you can tell he is not totally recovered.”
“That was one sad sequence of events he had to go through,” replied Andy.
The captain knew Austin well and knew him to be one of the best people he had ever met; he was smart, articulate, friendly and very funny. He always had an endless stream of jokes, but now he never smiled and always wanted to be alone. Bill wished there was something he could do to ease the pain but knew nothing would. Austin would have to pull out of it on his own, but he knew that he was tough enough and would do so; he just hoped it would be very soon.
The remainder of the flight was uneventful and went very smoothly.
As they started their descent toward Chicago, Austin stepped into the cockpit of the aircraft and sat down in the jump seat behind the captain to observe the approach. He felt a little better, though still sleep-deprived. The events of the previous night and the repercussions kept invading his thoughts, so he could only manage some catnaps.
“Are you going home after landing, Austin,” asked Bill? Knowing very well that he tried to avoid doing that.
“No, I don’t think so,” came the response. “The company wants me to stay here for a couple of days and do another check ride but we all know how things are here. They can change at a moment’s notice.”
“Amen to that,” replied all the other crewmembers almost in Unison.
They arrived at Chicago O’Hare airport at 8:00 a.m.; they had taken off from London Stansted airport at 6:00 a.m. local time. There is a six-hour time difference between the two airports and an eight-hour flight time. Before heading to their hotel, they had to talk to maintenance and brief them on the condition of the aircraft and they also had to wait for customs clearance.
When a cargo flight arrives into any U.S. airport, customs officials either showed up at the aircraft, cleared the crew and collected the proper paperwork or a representative of the company drove them to the customs office. On some occasions, the customs officer would call the company representative