[Peetwo]

Captain's Log 12.03.17: MH370 & endless cycle of hypotheses.

Not really wanting to get into the (HSSS) debate or rein in the MH370 amateur, armchair hypotheses (not theories - thank you Pix ); but personally I am not big on the Captain did it. Nor am I professionally convinced that there was some catastrophic failure with a rapid decompression ending with a 'ghost flight' into the SIO.  

However in reference to the above post and the following from the Oz via the MH370 'Less Noise' thread...

MH370 mystery goes to court

12:00amEAN HIGGINS

The debate over the biggest aviation mystery this century will be fought out in a US courtroom.

The debate over the biggest aviation mystery this century will be fought out in a US courtroom where aircraft manufacturer Boeing may argue that a rogue pilot brought down Malaysia Airlines flight MH370 rather than any ­inherent mechanical defect in the Boeing 777.

The civil action, launched by aviation lawyer Mary Schiavo from US firm Motley Rice on behalf of the relatives of 44 of the 239 people who perished, could also apply more pressure on Boeing to contribute to a fund established by the families aimed at renewing the search for the aircraft.

Ms Schiavo, a former US ­Department of Transportation ­inspector-general and a regular commentator on CNN, lodged the suit against Boeing in a South Carolina court at the weekend on ­behalf of Gregory Keith, a special administrator for the relatives of three US citizens or permanent residents lost on MH370 and 41 Chinese victims.

The suit, publicly revealed yesterday on the third anniversary of MH370’s disappearance, alleges the crash of MH370 “was caused or partially caused by defects in the design, manufacture and/or ­assembly of the aircraft”.

The suit states the failure to ­locate the plane caused a “lack of finality and an enduring mystery that has caused unprecedented levels of economic and non-economic losses, emotional and physical pain, distress and mental pain and suffering to those lost on the plane and to their families”.

MH370 vanished on a scheduled flight from Kuala Lumpur to Beijing on March 8, 2014, with its radar transponder turned off and radio communications cut 40 minutes into the flight, after which, primary radar and automatic satellite tracking shows, the aircraft doubled back over Malaysia and flew up the Malacca Strait until turning on a long track to the southern Indian Ocean.

The plaintiffs’ case focuses on an alleged complex series of failures and adverse events starting with an electrical fault and fire ­disabling communications on MH370 and leading to decompression of the aircraft, with the ­pilots unable to fully regain control, ultimately leaving the plane flying on autopilot at high altitude until it ran out of fuel and crashed.

The scenario is similar to a theory developed by former RAAF supply officer, retired Ansett logistics manager, private pilot and amateur aviation investigator Mick Gilbert. In Mr Gilbert’s narrative, a windshield fire caused by an electrical fault becomes a conflagration when one of the pilots’ oxygen hoses comes loose, damaging the radio and controls, and leading to rapid decompression, with the pilots, possible seriously injured or with one dead, only able to make limited manoeuvres before they run out of oxygen. Mr Gilbert’s work was described as well-researched by respected US former airline pilot and air crash investigator John Cox, who has placed equal weight on the probability of a series of adverse mechanical events, and pilot hijack.

Most airline pilots and air crash investigators, however, believe Mr Gilbert’s scenario involves too many highly improbable events happening in a particular ­sequence, and think it unlikely the pilots would have flown the aircraft for an extended period of time during the emergency without issuing a distress call.

The majority of professional aviation opinion holds that Captain Zaharie Ahmad Shah ­hijacked his own plane, killed the passengers and remaining crew by depressurising the aircraft while he remained on a long oxygen supply, and flew the aircraft to the end.

(P2 comment - Mick Gilbert a former RAAF/Ansett baggage chucker...   Now why does that sound so familiar... - )

...& in the interest of standing up for the integrity, skills and professionalism of my fellow airline pilot fraternity (deceased, retired, active or on sabbatical.. ); I must object to some of the slanderous and Cleary ignorant assertions made by - the former RAAF supply officer, retired Ansett logistics manager, private pilot and amateur aviation investigator - Mick Gilbert. Especially when this dude (the Oz Mick & 'Mick Gilbert') is making comments like this:

Mick Gilbert
March 4, 2017 at 9:41 pm

Ben, thank you for facilitating a fair and open-minded discourse on MH370. It is in sharp contrast to the very one eyed approach adopted by the “hang ’em high” boys and girls on Holt Street. Today their readers were treated to two error-riddled “expert” opinion pieces, both told from the same narrow-minded perspective and both rewarming the same tired old left-overs that they try to pass off as arguments. And then, just for something completely different, there was a third in-house authored piece promoting the their two “experts” as being in agreement with one another!...

Right so it is okay for MG to attack the two 'error riddled' hypotheses under his other 'Mick' Oz identity commentary essays...sorry zzzip - I was diverging...   

To begin, referring to MG's hypothesis I noted the following repeated assertions under No 4) page 10 of the paper:

...The initial deviation from the flight plan just past IGARI was consistent
with the response to an inflight emergency..

...MH370's change of direction back towards Penang on a heading of about 240° from just past IGARI was entirely consistent with a response to an inflight emergency...

Let's refer to the following 'Smart Cockpit' Boeing 737 NG 'Ludo's Brief', which I am told can be accepted as close to SOP across most modern (glass) technology Boeing types, like the B777: http://www.smartcockpit.com/docs/B737-Em...ent_rev_05

Reference Pg 2:

ACTION BY PILOT IN-COMMAND:

1. When an aircraft operated as a controlled flight experiences sudden
decompression or a (similar) malfunction requiring an emergency descent, the
aircraft shall, if able:

a. Initiate a turn away from the assigned route or track before commencing
the emergency descent;
b. Advise the appropriate air traffic control unit as soon as possible of
the emergency descent;
c. Set transponder Code to 7700 and select to Emergency Mode on the
Automatic on the automatic dependent surveillance/controller-pilot data
link communications (ADS/CPDLC) system if applicable;
d. Turn on exterior lights;
e. Watch for conflicting traffic both visually and by reference to ACAS (if
equipped) and
f. Coordinate its further intentions with the appropriate ATC unit.

2. The aircraft shall not descend below the lowest published minimum altitude
which will provide a minimum vertical clearance of 300 meters (1000 feet) or
in designated mountainous terrain 600 meters (2000 feet) above all obstacles
located in the area specified.

 
The 1a. turn away is largely an accepted procedure for explosive decompression and where immediate clearance from ATC is not possible. (Note this a turn away from the airway not a 180 degree turn).

The following Flight.org video depicts a B777 rapid descent with the scenario being a reasonably sedate depressurisation event inside of ATC active control and contact (therefore not requiring a turn away from the airway):

My point is that these are real accepted Boeing type rated SOPs 'consistent' with the professional inflight management of a rapid emergency descent or an inflight emergency requiring an emergency descent.

There is also this from Cap'n Aux...

You’re The Captain: Explosive Decompression at 40,000 Feet
More articles by Eric Auxier »
By: Eric Auxier



The mysterious disappearance of Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 has brought with it much speculation. Instantaneous inflight breakup, terrorist bombing, missile, even a tragedy similar to Air France Flight 447. As of this writing, the plane has still not been found. However, short of an instantaneous and catastrophic event, what could the team of pilots up front do to save a broken ship?

You’re the Captain of Fantastic Airlines Flight, 123. You’re an hour into your flight from Paris to Tokyo, cruising over the Baltic Sea at 40,000 feet. You’ve assigned PF (Pilot Flying) duties to your trusty FO (First Officer) Mark, who is flying the plane on autopilot. As PNF (Pilot Not Flying) on this leg, you work the radios and run support. In the two cockpit jumpseats behind you sit your IROs (International Relief Officers,) who are just about to take over for the middle part of the 11-hour flight while you and Mark go to the back and rest up for landing. You reach for the Flight Attendant call button. But suddenly . . .

BOOM! Explosive decompression!

For the next ten seconds, the cockpit becomes a hurricane, with papers and small loose objects flying. The windows frost over. Suddenly, the temperature plummets to minus a jillion. You, Mark and the two IROs all frantically snatch and don your full face oxygen masks. No time for checklists; at 40,000 feet, you have a mere 15-20 seconds of useful consciousness.

With a hiss, the mask sucks snugly around your head. Fumbling in the blind (the oxygen mask is also fogged over) you select 100%, forced flow. You peel away the thin plastic anti-fog lining and suddenly you can see again. “I have the aircraft!” you shout. “You have the aircraft!” your FO, previously the pilot flying, acknowledges. You reach to kick off the autopilot—and realize it has already disengaged itself. You grab the yoke.

Simultaneously, you ease the nose over into a high dive, simultaneously cutting the engine power to idle. You need to get down ASAP, but you dare not increase speed: the aircraft has no doubt suffered structural damage. She’s still alive and flying, and you want to keep her that way.

She’s sluggish, her right wing shuddering and trying to drop, the tail yawing hard to the right. You kick in left rudder and hold left aileron just to keep her going straight. The hurricane is gone, but there’s still a cacophony of sound assaulting your ears. DING! DING! DING! goes the Master Caution, flashing red and competing with a dozen amber emergency procedures suddenly popping up on your ECAM (Electronic Centralised Aircraft Monitor), all clamoring for your attention.


Image courtesy David Monniaux via Wikimedia Commons

The FO silences the Master Caution. “Mayday, mayday,” he yells out on the radio, his shouts muffled by the microphone in his O2 mask. “Fantastic Flight 123, declaring an emergency. Explosive decompression, executing a rapid descent. Turning off course to heading 360.” In back, you hear screams and someone making a PA announcement. You can’t make out the words, but you know it’s a flight attendant bleating out instructions and imploring everyone to stay calm, while shouting in a frantic, panicked voice herself. Then the screams and PA suddenly go silent. They’ve either donned their own masks, automatically deployed by the pressure loss—or they’ve all passed out. There is one more noise though: that of rushing air. Somewhere back there, you have a gaping hole in your machine. But you already knew that.

The altimeter blazes through 32,000’, spinning backwards like a madman’s time travel clock. Your vertical speed, normally 1-2,000 feet per minute up or down, is now passing through 8,000 fpm. You’re over water for the moment, so you’re aiming for an altitude of 10,000’. “Call the back,” you order. “We need to know what’s going on.” “Already did, Cap’n,” your trusty FO replies. “No response.” Not surprising. They’re probably all out cold. Just in case, you toggle the PA switch. “This is the Captain,” you say, in the most calm, commanding voice you can muster. “Remain seated. The situation is under control.” That’s all you have time to say. Right now, you’re a tad busy working on that little bit about, “the situation is under control.”

“Explosive decompression Checklist,” you order. It’s a backup for what you’ve already done, but you need Mark to read it, just in case you’ve missed something. And in the “fog of war,” even the best-trained pilot can easily miss something. Again, Mark has already anticipated your next command, and has the QRH (Quick Reference Handbook) out and ready to read. You’ve got your hands full flying the plane, so he reads and does it aloud.

“‘O2 Masks—Deploy’ he quotes. Deployed. ‘Cabin masks—Deploy’ Deployed . . . Turn off the airway and descend to MEA (Minimum Enroute Altitude) as soon as possible. Do not exceed speed at time of failure. Assess damage and adjust flight path and controls accordingly. Land at nearest suitable airport.’ Explosive Decompression Checklist complete!”

“Roger that,” you reply. “MEA’s below 10,000, so that’s where we’re headed for now.” The airspeed begins to increase. You gingerly pitch up to bleed it off. A glance at the altimeter: 25,000 feet. You’re low enough now to ease in some speed brakes. Instantly, the plane begins to shudder violently. No good. You ease the brakes back off. It’s then you notice: the right engine’s out—and on fire.

“ECAM actions,” you bark. Mark reads the top checklist that’s popped up on your screen. “Engine Number Two, failure and fire, Skipper.” “Understood,” you reply. Mark begins reading and doing the on-screen emergency checklists. “‘Engine two thrust lever—idle’ idle. Engine two master switch—off,’ confirm?” he asks. His hand is poised to pull the number two kill switch, but again in the fog of war, the last thing you want to do is shut down the wrong engine. With your right hand you cover the working engine master switch. “Confirm,” you reply. “Off! ‘Engine Two Fire Bottle—Discharge’” There is a brief pause, before Mark announces, “The fire’s out, Captain,” with an obvious sound of relief in his voice. “Roger that, continue with ECAM actions.”

You glance behind at the IROs. Strapped in and masks on, they look back at you. You have an idea. While Mark has his hands full securing the plane with oodles of checklists, you’ve got two fully qualified pilots at your disposal sitting right there. “Kathy,” you call to the first relief pilot, “I need you to get back there and see what’s going on. Don the PBE (Portable Breathing Equipment) and take the crash axe. If they’re all out, put masks on our gals up front and try to revive them. And if you see any structural damage, get back here and report it ASAP!” “Aye aye, Cap’n!” comes her smart response. “Charlie,” you call out to the second pilot, “get up here and find us the nearest suitable pavement.” “Yes, sir!” Charlie springs out of the jumpseat, kneels by the pedestal, and punches data into your flight computer.

“Captain,” the FO chimes in. “Yeah, Mark?” you reply. “ATC advises Stockholm’s 170 miles ahead, about 10° right of course. Denmark’s behind us 250 miles.” Damn. You missed that radio call. The fog of war again. You contemplate the situation. Denmark’s behind you, and nearly twice as far, while requiring twice as much maneuvering. And you still don’t know what’s going on with the plane. “Stockholm sound good to you, Mark?” “Affirm, Captain,” he replies. “Charlie?” comes your next query. “Agreed, sir.” “OK, looks like we’ll be partying with the Swedish Bikini Team tonight,” you say, hoping the joke will relieve a little of the tension. “Tell ATC that we want vectors for Stockholm Arlanda.”

As Pilot in Command of an emergency aircraft, the world is at your beck and call. You don’t ask, you tell. You read the altimeter. Blasting through 16,000 feet. You ease back on the stick, coaxing the plane out of its earthly plummet, aiming for 10,000 feet level off. You pull the mask off. “Captain,” Kathy chimes in, back from the cabin. “Everyone’s knocked out back there. No injuries that I can see. Flight attendants are groggy but coming to.” “Damage report?” you ask. Kathy takes a big breath. “The second, aircraft-right, overwing exit is gone. It looks like it ripped into the upper right wing and took out a few spoilers in the process. Thank God the overwing slides didn’t deploy. Yet.” “Roger that,” you reply. “Fire?” “No flames from number two engine, just smoke now. It’s just out there windmilling, so it looks like you gents got ‘er shut down properly.” “OK good. You two to get back there and help the flight attendants check all passengers out. They should be coming to soon. Double check for any injuries and all seat belts locked tight. If anyone is freaking out over the missing door nearby, try to reseat them.” “Aye aye,” they reply.

The next half hour goes by in a blur. The checklists have all been run, and the cabin has been secured for an emergency landing. On touchdown, you’ll have only one thrust reverser. However the landing gear has mercifully deployed, with all brake systems reporting green. You have elected to land on Stockholm Arlanda’s Runway 01L. At nearly 11,000 feet, it’s the airport’s longest. You’ve also chosen not to deploy the flaps due to the structural damage, so you’ll be coming in mighty hot.

As the air gets thicker, you notice that the aircraft is becoming difficult to control. Your left leg is throbbing from fighting the rudder all the way down. Through gentle yoke movements and a lot of hard rudder, you’re finally lined up on final approach. The runway looms ever closer in the windshield. At 500 feet above the ground, you toggle the PA. “This is the Captain. Brace for impact.”

“Over the fence, on target, sink 800,” Mark announces. You pull the yoke up slightly and the airplane flares. The plane slams onto the runway, but you knew it would. There is no time for finesse under the circumstances. At least she’s on the ground in one piece. Well, two pieces. You left a door somewhere back there in the Baltic Sea.

You press the toe brakes and throw number one into full reverse, fighting the sudden left yaw. The plane shudders and screams. And then, finally, it stops. You set the parking brake and toggle the PA one last time. “This is the Captain. Remain seated. The situation is under control.” The cabin erupts in cheers. You take a deep breath, your heart pounding. Suddenly you notice about 200 TV trucks and cameras behind the airport fence, broadcasting you on a live feed to around the world. Book deals, endless talk shows and somewhat unwanted fame is in your near future. But for now, you’re just thankful to be alive. Everyone wants to hail you as a hero. Even your own flight crew now wants to pat you on the back. You shrug, and say something you’ll be repeating on TV talk shows for years to come:

“I was only doing what I was trained to do.”

Just saying...


MTF...P2