What was it like to be a pilot on 9/11?
— -- Timothy I. Meldahl was the captain of one of the last commercial flights -- quite possibly the very last -- to land in the U.S. on Sept. 11, 2001. He offers his account of that fateful flight for USA TODAY readers:
I was tired. As the Captain of Northwest 28, a 747-200 scheduled to fly from Tokyo to San Francisco, my crew and I had been delayed by the remnants of a typhoon that had struck a day earlier. When we finally lifted off at 6:02 p.m., we expected the remainder of our trans-Pacific flight to be routine. Shortly after leveling off, we realized that Northwest 28 on Sept. 11, 2001, was to be unlike any flight we would ever be a part of.
It began with a query by one of the many airborne crew members monitoring VHF frequency 123.45. "Is anyone getting the same information that we are getting over our company frequency?" one pilot asked. Another crewman responded, "Yes. It appears that one or two light aircraft have struck the World Trade Center." A third pilot added solemnly, "They were not light aircraft. They were airliners. And there were four of them!" "Which airlines?" another pilot asked, almost in a whisper. The words "United and American" came quietly across the radio, followed by "May God help them."
Minutes passed as more air crew added pieces to the puzzle. We learned of the coordinated attack in which four airliners had been hijacked and flown into the Pentagon, the WTC and a field in Pennsylvania. It seemed a crisis was developing on the East Coast of the United States that was almost beyond comprehension.
We needed to act. I directed C.A. Mansfield, my first officer, to pull the power back on all four engines. I believed by reducing power, thus slowing the aircraft down, I would gain two precious commodities: time and fuel. I continued with my instructions. "C.A., I may be distracted as the night progresses so you will be flying and navigating. I will verify any important changes that occur but, for now, you have the aircraft." Zack Bergazin was the second officer. "Zack, our fuel score will prove very important tonight so I will work with you to manage our fuel and to monitor aircraft systems."
It was at this point that I called Pam, our purser, to the flight deck. After my explanation of developments, she shook her head in disbelief. With Pam's input, I decided not to say anything to the passengers. There was a very real possibility that we had hijackers on board and we did not want to alert them. A few moments later I addressed the entire cabin crew. I did my best to explain to them what had occurred over the past couple of hours and gave them instructions that they were to stay calm, be professional and remain alert.
I had just completed my instructions to the flight attendants when a message came across our inter-company communications. "GO TO HIGH ALERT" it screamed. We all knew what "high alert" meant in a military context but none of us had ever seen a message like this at the airline. The obvious question: Is there something we are not being told about our circumstances? As we searched our manuals for some interpretation of this alarming message, Pam called from the cabin. "Tim, I think we have a problem with one of the passengers. He is holding a briefcase very tightly and he appears quite confused. He may be a threat. What would you like us to do?"
"Watch him very closely, Pam and report any changes," I replied.
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