Deadly Flight  

Quarter past two. No wind, good visibility. Cruising at 2400ft. I am flying  a Piper 3000 back from a meeting in Pilsgate. Well, when I saying flying, I am at the controls, but I am not the pilot. I look out across the countryside passing underneath, I am always surprised by the amount of open countryside and farming land there is. Air speed of 140 knots, flying by observing the land and towns below, it soon passes quickly. I am on an easterly course, but it is all made easy by the GPS (Ground Positioning System), simply keep two dots over one another and you are on course. However it is always well to a keep visual check as to where you are.

 Papa Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, I hear in the earphones, it’s the real pilot doing a check as we enter an airfield’s control area. I look down at the ground and can see no airfield, always difficult to find at this altitude. I look at the map specifically designed for flying, there are lots of places to avoid, but I can’t identify them. I look at the dots, I have drifted off, I correct the flight, slighted movement on the stick and you move off course. We are not running parallel to our course.

 I feel a pull on the stick, I look across and the pilot is slumped down in his seat. He looks decidedly ill - he looks as if he might be dead! I feel a slight thrill - hell, I am now really flying this plane. I don’t panic, but in that moment or two I have drifted off course again. I look at the dots, they are of no help now, where am I? I look down and recognise nothing! Keep calm, he may recover. Flying steadily I try to asses the situation. I look at the compass, I am on an easterly course, that is good but I will never find that grass airfield, if I did could I land? Panic tugs at my heart for the first time.

 I flick the radio switch on as I have seen him do. ‘May day. May day.’ I repeat the mantra PCCC, in the hope someone will hear me on the open channel.

                              A calm voice comes into my ear piece, ’ PCCC, what is problem?’
  I follow procedure, I must be mad!
                             ’PCCC, pilot is dead and I am flying plane, and I don’t know how.’
                              ‘PCCC, what is height, course and speed? ' 
 I look at the gauges.
                             ‘PCCC, 2400 ft, due north to Benwick, 140 knots.
                            ’PCCC, what is your position?’
 I laugh idiotically to myself, in the sky I think, but not for much longer if I don’t watch out.
                          ’PCCC’, the calm voice comes again, ’Advise on any landmark.’ 

I look of out of the cockpit window. I have been keeping a check against the map, but now made impossible now that I am flying as well. There is so much detail on the map it is confusing any way. Well I know I‘ve passed the M40, I remember remarking on it, I have not seen the Snowdrome at Milton Keys, so I think I am west of Luton.

                       The voice comes in, as calm as ever, ’Check your GPS if you have one.’

 No PCCC, this time I note. I look at it, hell I’m drifting to the right of the flight path by a long way. As I am about to say east of Luton a more authoritive voice comes on.

 ‘This is Luton ATC, light plane drifting into Zone B air space, identify and turn on heading 340 degrees.’ 
 I’m not sure how to respond to this, but I thought I would give him something to think about.
                           ’PCCCC, Pilot dead, passenger flying plane, not a pilot.’
                            A moments silence.  ’PCCC, switch the responder on.’
 I think of films I have seen.
                           ‘PCCC, negative to that.’ 
 Do I hear exasperation in the next message.
                           ‘PCCC, what is your height?’
                           ‘PCCC, 2400 ft.’
                           ‘PCCC, you are above flight path, can you land aircraft?’

 I lose my calm. ‘Look pal, I am just the passenger, I can move this joy stick and that’s about all!’
 The silence is longer this time.
                           ‘PCCC, how much fuel do you have?
                           ‘Plenty,’ I reply.
                           ‘PCCC,’ calm as you like, ‘I will bring you into Luton!’
 Yer, I think, and how?
                          ‘PCCC, turn due east. When you see a dual carriageway that will be the M1, Turn right and follow it.  Descend to 1500ft. Roger that!’

 It looks like I’ll be rogered I think to myself. I bring the aircraft round to the right. Careful now its easy too move to far. I look at the GPS. Maybe that line will cut through the M1, if not, I am buggered. I look at the map. What fool designed this, by the time I identify the M1 I will be beyond it! I look out for the M1.

                           ‘PCCC, are you 1500ft?’

 Gee, I’d forgotten. I push the stick forward, too hard, she goes into a dive! Bloody hell, I ease back. Looking at the map, checking the direction ,the height, and searching for the responder made me miss the M1. I feel a panic welling up inside me. Jesus, I only had a heart operation five months ago, at this rate I am heading for another one!

                           ‘PCCC, hold at 1500ft and turn to heading due south, can you do that for me?’
 I look at the compass; that I understand. I ease the joy stick gently to the right until the compass comes up on the S mark.
 With some relief I say into the headphone’s mike, ’PCCC, on heading due south at 1500 ft.’ I think I am settled for a moment.
                           ‘PCCC, watch out for gliders from Dunstable.’

 As if I do not have enough to worry about he drops that bombshell. Hell, how am I going to see a glider?
 Then I hear other voices. It takes some time before I realise that they are pilots of aircraft coming in to land. I am on the flight path into Luton. I hope they are looking out for me!
                         ‘PCCC, turn on a heading of 120 degree, drop speed to 100 knots. Lower undercarriage. Can you do that for me?’

 One thing at a time pal. I ease her round gently left on to the new heading. Lower speed? I look at the controls, I think its that knob on the stick. I push it in, the speed drops alarmingly and the aircraft starts to fall. I bring it back too quick and the nose bucks up. I think I am going to piss myself, this is all getting too much for a 76 year old! Pull yourself together! I ease the throttle forward to 100 knots. I check I am flying on the new heading. Shit, what was it? I wish I had not taken those diuretic tablets!
                           ‘PCCC, you should see a main road below you.’

 I look out of the cockpit. I can’t really identify anything; just a minute that could be a main road. Hell, I’m completely lost so what the hell.
                            ‘PCCC, I roger that.’

 To my surprise he says ‘good man’ without any of that other rubbish. ‘You will be given new heading in a minute.’
 I wait. I’m not sure I am in control.

 He comes again. ’Have you downed undercarriage?’

 Bloody no, I haven’t. I suddenly realise the importance of that. Sweat runs in my eyes. I look down at the dashboard, frantically trying to remember what Richard did. I look across at him. He’s going to be no use, he looks distinctly dead. (God, what will Val think!( that’s his wife).) I see the rocker switch and press it down. I look down through the glass panel conveniently placed to see the wheels. To my relief they go down. A terror thought crossed my mind. What if they are not locked? Before I have time to consider the disaster that would bring the voice comes on again.

 ‘PCCC, make a heading south east, maintain height and speed. Check you can get flaps down.’

 Bloody hell pal, one thing at a time. I am in a complete state of confusion. I wonder how much longer I have to live! I turn gently to bring her round to the south. My brain kind of works on its own, it does not seem to be connected to my body. Right. Check heading, speed, height, and wheels down. OK, let it go at that. Now for those bloody flaps. I search along the dashboard. I can’t see anything that is remotely like flap control. I click a few things experimentally. I try desperately to remember what he, the pilot did. (Val will be very upset) Maybe its this thing by the seat, I move it, and low and behold the speed drops. I look out and the flaps are down.

 Rather smugly I call, ‘PCCC, flaps are down.’

 No thanks; he just says, ’Roger that, hold speed and height. I have you on RADAR, you’ll be home in time for tea.’
 I hear several voices, who in unison say ’Roger that.’

 I find that very comforting, suddenly I am not alone, I am a member of that glamorous flying fraternity. I adjust my hat and my Raybans ready for the landing.

 The landing! Its easy enough in theory, but that moment of touch down is dodgy. I think of the disaster films I have seen. Suddenly a deadly calm comes over me, its all or nothing.
                           ‘I am going to talk you down.’

  Hello, a different voice, ’this is the captain,’ type voice!

 ‘I am on open frequency. Stay calm. Check undercarriage down and flaps down. Hold at 1500 feet. Ease speed to 90 knots. You are now on approach. You will see lots of lights. Disregard them. Lower speed on my mark.’

 That calm comforting voice, there is no problem, just simple procedure. He is my God!

 Suddenly I hear gabble on the radio network. Sounds like confused Russian. Then I hear other voice

.
                           ‘Luton ATC to U 4608, climb to 3000ft.’

 The Russian babble becomes more heightened.

                           ‘Uniform India 4608 fuel low must land on scheduled flight path.’

 A moments silence that seems to last for ever.

                          ‘PCCC.’ God’s voice cracked a bit, ‘Open throttle and go hard right and climb.’

 There was more urgency in the voice this time. I pull the throttle as far as it will go, and throw the joy stick over. Geeze, it looks as if the wing will hit the ground. I pull back hard. Suddenly we are flying level.

                           ‘PCCC to Luton ATC, pilot recovered, will continue on course to Fenland.’

 I look round, there is a sickly grin on Richards face. You bastard! My bladder gives way at the relief and I piss in his lovely plane. Oh well, at least we will not have to face the wrath of Val!