The Samaritans

The big problem was that he didn’t know where he was, and faced a very real threat of ditching, and being lost in the Pacific if the DC-10 crew couldn’t find him.

With a life clearly at stake, Captain Vette and his crew began to contemplate the ways in which they might. . . just might . . . locate a small aircraft lost at 7000 feet over an infinity of ocean. There followed a prolonged and frustrating needle in a haystack’ search, carried out in consultation with the Auckland search and rescue centre, with Bruce Miller co-ordinating.

The first piece of really good fortune for Mr Prochnow lay in the fact that the DC-10 had only 88 passengers on board at the time, but had taken on a heavy fuel load. It therefore had the endurance for a fairly lengthy search. An Orion from the RNZAF alerted to take off for the search area from Whenuapai would take some time to get to the area. A second factor was that the DC-10 has Inertial Navigation (INS), and its position was therefore known at all times without the need for calculation.

Step one in the search was to request the Cessna pilot to call periodically on the emergency VHF frequency 121. 5 MHz. On the HF shortwave communications gear, the American could be nearby . . . or thousands of miles away. But as soon as the DC-10 had him on the shorter-range VHF, there would be some idea of his distance from the DC-10.

Captain Vette calculated that with the Cessna at 7000 feet, and the DC-10 at flight level 330 (33,000 feet), VHF contact would be established when they were almost 190 to 230 nautical miles apart.

In due course, the Cessna came up on 121. 5 MHz, and the possible area in which it could be was reduced to something approaching 100,000 square miles!

The good news’ was passed to the Cessna together with the advice that there were two navigators on board the DC-10 to work on the problem. Malcolm Forsyth, a DC-8 First Officer travelling as a passenger in the DC-10, and like Captain Vette, a licensed navigator, had come forward onto the flight deck to help out.

Captain Vette gave the Cessna pilot various radio station frequencies to tune to, hoping for a quick ‘fix’ of the Cessna’s position. He plotted the resultant bearings received from the Cessna and found they didn’t make sense – in fact, one radio station at Tauranga was plotted as north of the Cessna’s position, something it manifestly wasn’t! It was apparent the Cessna’s ADF was at fault, with the needle giving false readings.

‘The next thing I said to him was to steer direct into the sun, while I did the same. I compared our two magnetic headings, and it was apparent that he was out to my left, just slightly. . . ‘ said Captain Gordon Vette afterwards.

‘We decided the sun was the only way we could get a reasonable idea of his position. We needed the bearing and altitude of the sun from his position, compared with our own. The trouble was neither of us had a sextant to make the comparison. I seemed to recall that a clenched fist at arm’s length represented about 10 degrees, and a finger was a little more than a degree and a half,’ said Captain Vette. ‘So I told him to put his arm out and measure the number of fingers between the centre of the sun and the horizon. I did the same, and it appeared we had a three-degree sun altitude difference, something around 180 nautical miles, with him closer to the sun than me. ‘

The problem then was to ensure that the Cessna pilot would spot the much larger DC-10 once it was in his immediate area. Sighting the small aircraft from the DC-10 would be more difficult. Captain Vette had already made a turn to discover that the DC-10 was leaving no contrail, and even a change of altitude approved by ATC could not produce a contrail.

‘I decided that if we got into the vicinity of the Cessna, I would paint a contrail with a fuel dump. This would cost me two and a half tonnes of fuel for every minute I let the dump continue. . . ‘ Captain Vette said.

He then flew towards the area in which he calculated the Cessna was, and when he estimated it was close, he told the young American to turn his Cessna’s tail to the sun while he headed the DC-10 into the sun, and told the pilot they should be heading straight towards each other. Then he did a two-minute fuel dump.

Disappointingly, the Cessna pilot couldn’t see it. Another fueldump should have painted a line 30 miles long in the sky, but again, the lost pilot could not see it. Difficult to understand, but on back-plotting Captain Vette estimated he was probably almost directly above the Cessna when he did the fuel dumping.

By this time, there was considerable concern on the DC-10 flight deck, for it appeared that the lost pilot was going to have to ditch alone, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. The problem was. . . what to try next?

Sunset was approaching, and Captain Vette asked Norfolk Island Flight Service on 118. 1 MHz VHF, and the Cessna pilot on 121. 5 MHz to report their exact times of sunset to him. By comparing the two times, he was able to determine whether the Cessna was east or west of Norfolk. This exercise seemed to put the Cessna about 5. 6 degrees to the east of Norfolk. This tallied with the DC-10’s original estimates of his longitude, and it also seemed to tie in with the oral ‘boxing-in’ technique Captain Vette had been using on the VHF, a time-consuming method involving turning when the Cessna’s 121. 5 MHz signal faded, and traversing a long radius when it faded back in, to gradually pin down the Cessna’s area of probability.

At 0815 Zulu (GMT), which was 6. 15 p. m. Australian Eastern Standard Time, the Cessna’s signal was lost, but Captain Vette made a 90-degree turn left, and picked it up again at 0825 Zulu. He now headed for position 30 degrees south, 177 degrees east, and told _the Cessna pilot, whose signal now was very strong, to circle and look for his DC-1O’s powerful strobe lights. Then at 0902 zulu, the Cessna reported sighting what appeared to be a surface light. Captain Vette told him to fly towards it and report its heading, which turned out to be 310 degrees. Captain Vette also warned to make sure it wasn’t a star low on the horizon.

The Cessna pilot had now exceeded his original endurance estimate, and if the light proved to be a ship, he might well have been able to save his life by ditching in the sea. He reported the light was getting closer, indicating it was not a star. The American reported he was now over some kind of vessel. Captain Vette told him to circle the vessel, flashing his landing lights to attract attention and to give a description of the vessel. From the description, the vessel appeared to be an oil rig, and there was no confirmation when the Cessna pilot reported two tugs ahead of it. It was the Penrod rig, en route from New Zealand to Singapore.

From the Marine Division in New Zealand, Captain Vette was given 119. 1_ MHz VHF as Penrod’s radio frequency, and 31 degrees south, 179. 21 degrees east, as its position. It was apparent that the Cessna would have to ditch since this position was too far away from any land. And indeed, the Penrod rig had already moved and was launching a boat.

The Penrod position given, however, conflicted with the estimates calculated on the DC-10’s flight deck. Captain Vette therefore called for a position confirmation direct from Penrod rig. This was then given as 31 degrees south, 70. 2 degrees east, putting it within 150 to 1 60 miles of Norfolk. It was just about the position where the fuel dump had been made earlier.

This put Norfolk Island just within range on the new endurance figure worked out by the Cessna pilot Prochnow, so Captain Vette gave the pilot a choice of ditching in the sea or taking a heading from the DC-10 for Norfolk.

The response from the Cessna was emphatic. The sea looked cold and dark; a heading for Norfolk, please!

Captain Vette passed a heading of 290 degrees magnetic to Prochnow in the Cessna and told him he would bring the DC-10 down to 10,000 feet, and overtake the Cessna on its starboard side.

Even with landing lights on, the Cessna was difficult to see, but the DC-10 crew picked them out, to the delight of the 88 passengers on board the tri-jet, who had been kept informed throughout each stage of the hunt.

‘We tucked him in behind, clear of our jet-wash, and led him directly to Norfolk,’ Captain Vette recalled.

Since he could not slow below 200 knots, he told the Cessna pilot to follow his strobe lights and to report immediately if he lost them, whereupon the DC-10 would circle back. This didn’t prove necessary, although the DC-10 forged ahead. The DC-10 was overhead Norfolk at 10,000 feet when an Orion of the RNZAF joined the Cessna, with 40 or 50 miles to run, and led it in.

The last act for Captain Vette was to inform his 88 passengers that the Cessna had made it on almost dry tanks. Captain Vette set course for Auckland, where he landed at 1. 09 a. m. local time, just 3 hours and 54 minutes late!

The search was a team effort by the DC-1O’s flight deck crew, supplemented by Malcolm Forsyth. Captain Vette commended them in a special report to Air New Zealand.

While Captain Vette and First Officer Forsyth were working on ways of locating the Cessna’s position, First Officer Arthur Dovey and Flight Engineer Gordon Brooks carried on a critical and demanding workload. ‘The fact that they were such experienced airmen helped a great deal,’ said a very proud Captain

Vette of his crew.

Many of the old navigational and piloting techniques may well have been forgotten, or just not known in our technological age . . . but as this wonderful story shows, they can still be useful. This story is also a tribute to the memory of the late Mr Gordon Barrett Brooks, Flight Engineer on Air New Zealand DC-1O ZK-NZP, which was Air New Zealand flight TE901 which was lost in Antarctica