STILL IMPROVING CHAPTER 9

In December 1988, the narrator, a pilot, had to work on Christmas, separating him from his wife Liz and their two-month-old baby James. However, after securing tickets and permission, Liz and James were able to join him on a trip to Barbados. On Christmas night, they boarded a Pan Am 747, unaware of the tragedy that had just occurred in Lockerbie, Scotland, where another Pan Am 747 had crashed due to a bomb explosion. Despite the somber mood on the flight, they enjoyed their time together in Barbados. They decided not to exchange gifts and instead taught James to blossom in the Caribbean sea. They boarded the flight back home on Christmas night, which was nearly empty. The narrator checked on Liz and James, who were sleeping peacefully, and then returned to his seat. Little did they know, something was about to go wrong on that silent night as the aircraft continued its journey through the night skies. CHAPTER IX A TRAGIC CHRISTMAS It was now December 1988, and I was celebrating having completed my first full year of flying the Boeing 747. Our first child, James, had arrived in the October, and we were planning our first Christmas together as a family. Unfortunately, as I was a very junior pilot, I had to work that Christmas. There would be no family celebrations in our new home. Instead I was rostered to be away for the five days of the festive period, landing back on Boxing Day morning. The trip was to Barbados, and then landing at Manchester. We were then rostered to position home on the 27th of December, so not much chance of a white Christmas this year. Also, sadly, there would be no Santa Claus coming down the chimney for James's first Christmas. Still, he was only a few months old, and hopefully I would be home for next Christmas. This, of course, was not welcome news for the brand new Eads family. I really could not face being parted from Liz and our two-month-old baby for our first Christmas. Luckily, where there is a will, there is sometimes a way. After a lot of red tape I secured tickets for Liz and James to join me on the trip. Even better, I managed to get permission to make my own way home from Manchester instead of flying back to Gatwick with the crew on the 27th. Liz had been brought up in the Wirral. Her parents and how she grew up in were only a forty-five minute drive from Manchester Airport. A plan was made—Christmas in the Caribbean, followed by Boxing Day with my new in-laws, who I adored. The only downside was that we would be spending Christmas night on a 747. Still, it was a price we were prepared to pay to be together. The day before we were due to fly to Albedos we had everything packed and we were ready to go. Travelling light with a new baby is just about impossible, especially as we were both very new at the parenting game. As Liz finally appeared satisfied that everything was in order, I looked at the enormous case and the pile of baby paraphernalia. How could such a tiny human being require so much luggage? I mentioned this to Liz, which was probably a mistake in hindsight, as I rubbed my arm to reduce the pain from a well-deserved punch. I was relieved that we had an estate car and a jumbo jet. We would need all the space we could possibly find. All that remained was to say farewell to friends and get an early night. Tomorrow promised to be a long day, especially for Liz with a new baby to look after. With everything finally stowed, packed, checked and double-checked, we sat down for a quick supper. We would not be returning home until the New Year, so we emptied the food from the house and locked everything away. All we had to do now was get a good night's sleep, although with a new-born baby that is actually an impossible dream. We set our alarm for six in the morning and James set his for four. Whilst this routine was being played out, a sinister and deadly plot was being put into action. A Pan Am 747 had just taken off from Frankfurt on its way to London. From London it was due to continue its journey to New York. A suitcase had been loaded in Frankfurt that had no right to be there. After a routine stop in London, the 747 climbed away and headed for Scotland, where it was scheduled to start its Atlantic crossing. It never made it that far. Turning on the television, supper on our laps, our programme was interrupted with the tragic news that the Pan Am Boeing 747 had crashed into a small town in Lockerbie, Scotland. Along with the rest of the world we were shocked into silence. Even the baby seemed to sense that something was wrong, and lay quietly at our side. We sat there for what seemed an age, as news filtered through at the extent of the tragedy. We were due to fly, twelve hours later, on precisely the type of aircraft which had crashed. There was no news about how and why the Pan Am aircraft had fallen out of the sky. All we knew was that we were about to take a brand-new eight-week-old baby on the same type of aircraft the following day. Looking at each other and then at James, we had to decide about our flight in the morning. Of course I would still have to go, unless the initial findings of the crash grounded all Boeing 747s. However, was it still wise to take my family with me, if there was even the slightest hint of danger? It was a decision that I could only leave to Liz. She had to feel safe and comfortable if she and our baby were to join me. As much as I wanted them both to come, I knew the choice was hers alone to make. It was impossible to imagine that her decision that night would result in all three of us making headline news throughout the world. Only a few days later our little family would become famous. Our fate was sealed. Liz made the brave decision to accompany me to Barbados. Decision made. We tried to have an early night, like that was going to happen with an eight-week-old baby, who had very different plans for us. The eight-hour flight the following day went very smoothly. We even managed to get all our luggage onto the aircraft, which came as a pleasant surprise. The mood on board the aircraft, however, was very sombre. The news of a bomb explosion and down-pan an aircraft had reached us before departure. The whole tragedy was appalling. The only slight comfort for us was that the cause of the crash had been quickly identified, and thankfully there were no inherent problems with the 747 itself. The trip was enjoyable in the sense that the three of us were together, enjoying some winter sunshine. James proudly wore his Santa's Little Helper T-shirt on the beach each day. His presence helped us, and a lot of the crew, to put the tragedy of Lockerty towards the back of our minds, at least for a while. Christmas Day in 1988 was not the usual opening of presents. We had both agreed that we had enough luggage with us without bringing any gifts. Besides, we would have turkey and all the trimmings to-morrow, Boxing Day, at Liz's parents' house. Instead we gave James some blossoming lessons in the warm Caribbean sea. Departure that night was scheduled for eight o'clock in the evening local time. The flight, unsurprisingly, was almost empty. Not many people wanted to spend Christmas night on an aircraft, and who could blame them? Liz decided to sit on the upper deck, directly behind the flight-deck. I think this was to ensure that if the baby cried all night both of us would have to be awake. James strongly still denies this. There were only twenty-five other passengers on the aircraft that night. We had eighteen cabin crew members, plus the three of us on the flight-deck, so it was a pretty even match between passengers and crew. We were all looking forward to a peaceful night after the events of the past few days. I left the flight-deck as we reached our cruising height of thirty-three thousand feet. I went back to check on Liz and the baby. Both were resting peacefully. I then made my way down the spiral staircase and checked that all was well with the crew and the passengers. The cavernous interior of the aircraft was extenuated by the lack of people. In the twilight it was difficult to make out the dim shapes of the passengers or crew, who all seemed to be sleeping. We were all suspended in mid-air over the Atlantic Ocean on the holiest of nights. I quietly made my way back to my seat, not wanting to disturb this silent and peaceful world. What could possibly go wrong on a silent night? As the aircraft steadily droned on through the night skies we were about to find out.