A Tale of Two Towers - pt 3 - A Tale of the Wrench

The aircraft yaws hard to the right
The two front seats struggle with the yokes
Trimming at the same time to try to compensate for whatever just happened
The curses coming in a constant stream
Along with encouragement to the old plane
Making a blue haze in the cockpit

Wait that's smoke!

I reach up and open the sugar scoop and dump valves all the way
The smoke dissipates a bit

We call on the radio for an emergency return
Now what we are above all the clouds
We can tell exactly where we are
We'll stay above the soup until we are close to the airport
Then we'll dive on down and land
Quickly

There is a constant banging coming from the left side of the plane
I look at the fuel gauges
It seems like we've lost all the fuel in the number four main tank
I reach for the cash register and close the valve to that tank
It moves a little too easy
But hopefully it will help somehow

The old DC8 is finally controllable again
The trim systems doing their job
Pilot and Copilot not able to take their hands off the yokes
But it's not a life or death struggle anymore either

The captain orders me back to check out the side windows
Try to see what happened

I unbuckle and walk out
Not that steadily
Passing through the crew area
Ducking through the cargo net
I look out the left window first

There's an eight foot long chunk of antennae tower there
Bouncing lightly on the upper wing skin
Held by a three quarter inch cable that seems to be wrapped around the wing
I turn pale
I feel sick
I throw up right there on the floor
My hands braced on the curved wall of the cargo compartment

Turning
I cross the narrow fuselage to see the other wing
I want to throw up again
But I can't

The right wing
Flexed slightly with the load of the plane on it
Shows me it's entire length
It's missing about ten feet out towards the tip
There are cables wrapped around this wing root as well

How in the fuck have we not crashed yet?
It's all I can think
I send a prayer of thanks to the Douglas engineers
Wherever they may be
For building this flying tank

I stagger back to the cockpit
I tell them what I saw

They both get very quiet
I buckle myself back in
I report to the airport what has happened
And what condition the plane is in

We approach the airport area
Steadily dumping fuel until we were at a safe landing weight
Trying not to queer the delicate trim condition we had going
Finally we cross the outer marker
And grimly dive down through the clouds
To the waiting fire trucks and military personnel
Eager to touch down on solid ground

On extending the flaps
There was a constant grinding sound
And though we didn't know it at the time
The cables wrapped around the wing
Were cutting their way into the flaps as they came down

Like knives through butter
But the plane didn't seem to care
When the airport came into sight
Final approach happened without a hiccup

Rubber down with a squawk
We came to a stop just after we turned off the runway
Surrounded by firetrucks and military trucks
Someone brought a ladder over
They helped us down
We got to walk around the plane once
To see the huge chunk of antennae
Lying atop the battered wing
Cables dug into the skin of the leading and trailing edges
A tattered cable end dangling on the ground
Like an obscene tail

The right wing tip
Gone
Almost up to the number four engine pylon
Jagged chunks of metal sticking out at us
Like accusatory fingers pointing at us
The ones who had done this to it
Fuel dripped slowly from the structure

But it was all in one piece (mostly)
It wasn't on fire
We weren't dead

The commandant called us over
He was glad we were alright

Then he arrested us
Destroying broadcast antennas was a big deal it seems
We'd have to be detained until our company made some arrangements

I didn't care

I was on the ground