2024 Travers Winner!

~Xavier Mercado, Class of 2024

“I can only say it was a miracle,
we could have died if we were late.”

-A passenger onboard JAL516

“Welcome to the private hearing for Japan Airlines flight 516. We appreciate your time here this morning.”

I wasn’t in the mood for a trial at 7 in the morning on a Saturday. One month ago, I murdered five individuals who were in a Japanese Coast Guard plane while attempting to land my passenger airliner in Tokyo Haneda. Or at least I was told. 

“Could we pull up the CCTV footage as an opener?” A British woman in some formal attire asked. The white screen in the center of the white, wide, and low-roofed meeting hall flashed black, and in a blink, a night-drenched Haneda airport filled the screen. Numerous ANA aircraft littered the ramp, with one pushing back in the foreground. Immediately, my eyes lit with orange as a giant fireball erupted in the background of the scene, near the threshold of runway 34R. There it was, my Airbus A350 and 379 humans, sliding down the runway with flames and the debris of a twin-prop DHC-8 being dragged along. 

“My name is Raul Kasim,” A new man spoke from the center of the room. “I will be managing today’s hearing, alongside our board members here behind me. To begin, we have Ms. Porter Hopkins with the Japanese Transport Safety Board, on the preliminary investigation findings.” The same British representative for Japan strolled up to the podium, as Raul let her take over.

“We have recovered the flight data of the A350 including all data shown on the navigation displays, PFDs, and even the HUD,” With another click, the screen clicks to altitude and time graphs with an overview of Haneda airport. “Through simulations run by Airbus in Toulouse, paired with the footage we have just seen, it is concluded that Mr. Miyamoto touched down well short of the expected touchdown zone. If he had successfully touched down within the correct parameters, as he should have in the first place, the collision wouldn’t have happened.”  Voices filled the room with the discussion of spectators.

“Ma’am, and what makes you think this is even remotely viable evidence?” A voice boomed from the back of the room.  At least someone gets it.

“And that’s where we have more evidence. Mr. Miyamoto should’ve initiated a go-around upon the initial suspicion of aircraft lights on the runway,” The British woman responded.

“And who’s to say that the aircraft lights weren’t clearly visible? I’ve been an airline pilot for twenty-seven years. It is hard as hell to see those lights on the runway at night. Let alone an aircraft the size of that Dash 8. Don’t forget there were three of them up on the flight deck. We’ve got the first officer here too, ma’am.” The same voice repeated, this time, with further emotion. I could hint at the man’s Australian accent.

“Let us pull up the cockpit audio, if you don’t mind,” The Brit said as she eyed Raul and the board members. Raul clicks into his microphone. 

“For the record, this is the CVR of Japan Airlines flight 516, January 2nd, 2024. Ladies and gentlemen, headsets on.”

The lights in the room dimmed to a moody blue. And the force of wind sounded against the windshield. 

“Tokyo tower, good evening, Japan Air 516 with you on approach to 34R. We have departure.”

“Japan Air 516, copy departure, continue approach 34R, wind 320 at 7.”

“Roger continue approach, Japan Air 516.” 

Without the moonlight, the night seemed more nightly. Two thousand landings under my belt. One more landing till I had a deserved week off.

“Landing checklist.” I called out to my first officer.

“Landing checklist,” he responded. “Cabin?”

“Briefed.”

“Speed Brakes?”

“Armed.”

“Autobrake?”

“Set.”

“Flaps?”

“Flaps full.”

“ECAM Memo?”

“Landing, no blue.”

“Landing checklist complete.”

Two Thousand. The Airbus GPWS callouts counting down. The amber light of a warning sign sprung into action with an audible ding.

“Autothrottle off, manual thrust.” I called out.

“Your thrust.”

One thousand.

“One thousand checked, still a five knot crosswind…” My first officer remarked.

“Japan Air 516, winds 210 at 12, cleared to land 34R,” Haneda tower radioed.

“Cleared to land 34R, Japan Air 516,” I read back with confidence, not thinking, oblivious about the incoming fate. The runway lights were as clear as day, and not a single negative thought crossed my mind as I gripped the sidestick and pushed the autopilot disconnect button. Fweep Fweep Fweep! “My controls.”

“Your controls.”

The rushing fury of air, traveling, directing itself around the shape of our aircraft. A symphony of aerodynamics with every push and pull of the stick, as flaps and airfoils shifted the flow, directing the aircraft exactly where I wanted it to go. I was interrupted with a quick 500 callout from the Airbus GPWS callouts once again.

400.

Two reds, two whites on the PAPI lights.

300.

Push the stick.

200.

A little much.

Minimum!

“Continue,”

100.

Final stretch.

50.

Start pulling it back.

40.

The runway lights seem to be blinding.

30. 20. Retard. Retard. Touchdown.

“Reversers,” my first officer called, as I lowered the nose gear onto the surface of the runway, engaging the thrust reversers on the two Rolls Royce Trent XWB engines.

SCHLAM!

A heart punching blow? A wailing cry from the majestic A350. The screeching of a Dash 8 fuselage, scraping across the runway, dragging, dragged along by our beast of an aircraft.

“What the hell?” I said out of disbelief. “I’ve got no controls!” It was true. Completely oblivious to the extent of the damage, or even what was going on, I proceeded to run our reversers and brakes to half their powers. Immediately after, the cockpit seemed to drop. Though we were on the ground. 

“What’s going on…?” my first officer managed to blurt out. And to that, I wish I had the answer to. Without a doubt, the only thing separating us from our bodies sliding across the tarmac was the floor of the flight deck. Our front gear had collapsed. Too much to process, the lights of the runway stuck in my eyes, the pounding of our aircraft on the ground. We were off into the grassy area adjacent to the runway.

“Evacuate.” I spazzed out and said on the PA system, before the aircraft even came to a complete stop. Unstrapping myself once we were stationary, I hopped out of the seat and proceeded to grab the supplies for an emergency procedure. Rustling in the background told me my first officer did the same. Unlocking the door, I came face to face with a flight attendant, who I was prepared to ask about the situation, until the smoke started filling the cabin.

None of it mattered, my mind was on the lives of 378 other human beings. To the right and left, the exit doors were gone. People filed out of the aircraft with urgency with every move. 

The slides had been deployed. 

I slid myself past the attendant who I had completely ignored, as well as the crowd of individuals attempting to rush out of the smoke-filled carbon fiber coffin. I couldn’t find a single passenger with luggage in their hands. Just human lives running with their desire to live. Was it really this simple?

“Akira! What has happened?” I shouted out to her, the attendant who I had ignored. She was inaudible, but she motioned for me to look outside the windows. 

Amber. There was fire.

Rushing myself, once again, sliding past the never-ending conga line of desperate fleet of passengers, I managed to make my way through the entire length of the cabin, ducking the smoke and breathing in as little as possible. By the time I reached the aft cabin and out the rear-most exit, the smoke just never seemed to stop engulfing the coffin. Peering outside to see the situation and the hundreds of passengers who fled the scene, I realized I wasn’t near ground level anymore. The aft end of the plane was raised. I was standing 30 feet in the air. At least 20 feet higher than I should be.

“Is there anyone back here?” I screamed, not knowing who I was talking to, or if anyone would even hear me. Without a response, again, I dashed back, ducking the smoke to the front of the aircraft, checking every last row to make sure there were no lives left behind. Seemingly so, I finalized my time on board by double checking the cockpit, looking down the dark gray corridor of the aircraft’s cabin, and I threw myself out the frontmost left exit door.

Silence.

I opened my eyes once again to the moody blue hue of the conference room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, headphones off please,” Raul ordered. “I do want to note, in fact, this was the first time anyone had listened to this audio. Beyond this, we have new data points that have just come in within the last ten minutes.” Displayed on the wall was a new video. CCTV. A new angle. 

“Displayed here is a newly released CCTV tape from the eastern side of the terminal, conveniently zoomed in on the aircraft post-collision, before the landing gear collapse.” A red, mouse-controlled orb glowed on screen, showcasing the sustained damage of the aircraft as Raul proceeded with circle motions with his mouse. “The damage that the nose sustained was in fact, due to the collision with the coast guard aircraft, and not due to the gear collapse that happened shortly after.” This was hard to process. Somehow I was being told and put into a position where I am a murderer. “Once again, for the record, before we proceed any further with the hearing, I’d like to marvel at the fact that all 379 occupants on board the Japan Airlines aircraft survived with minimal injury,” Finally a valid point. “With the testament of a strong Japanese safety culture, swift crew, this incident was handled very well. Mr. Miyamoto was reported to be the last one off the aircraft, ensuring that everyone got off safely. To that, I applaud you sir.” Amen. I did my job.

“Thank you sir. To make things straight, would also love to highlight my first officer, Mr. Takahiro, and the entire crew of JAL516. Let this be a showcase of aviation safety. Proof that evacuations can be done safely. That was 379 human lives saved within the span of minutes,” I said, shifting the focus of the hearing to a lighter note.

“And with that, we come to our first conclusion today with another piece of key data. I am presenting to you the full ATC transcript, un-redacted. The Japanese Coast Guard aircraft was in fact, not cleared to line up and wait on 34R as it did on that fateful night. They were told to hold short of the runway, on holding point Charlie 5, which of course, did not happen. Though Mr. Zhou, the captain onboard the Coast Guard aircraft, and the only survivor on board his aircraft, was not able to attend today’s hearing; we received word that he and the crew thought they had takeoff clearance. We now know this was not the case.” 

A wave of relief flowed through the room, seeming to hit me from all angles. I was not out of the weeds yet as a murderer, but every piece of evidence continues to soothe me. 

“Furthermore, in collaboration with the NTSB and other aviation safety agencies around the globe, we have concluded that, given the circumstances that Mr. Miyamoto and his crew faced that night, had zero malicious intent behind this incident, nor could this incident have been prevented from the eyes of the crew of Japan 516. With that, Mr. Miyamoto and his crew are free from any suspicion of wrongdoing, and instead, shall be praised for their quick thinking and saving of over 300 lives that night,” Mr. Kasim continued.

Though I didn’t express it apart from a head nod, I had the biggest smile on my face. I was not a murderer. I am a hero. The occupants of Japan Airlines 516 are heroes.