Captain Al Haynes died on August 25, 2019, just a few days
shy of his eighty-seventh birthday. I had many opportunities to speak with
Captain Al during the thirty years that he lived after the crash of United
Airlines Flight 232. On the second anniversary meeting of the passenger and
family survivors in Denver, CO, I met Captain Haynes for the first time.
During the summer of 1991, I was contacting passenger
survivors of six fatal crashes that occurred during 1987-1989, as part of my
dissertation study. UAL Flight 232 fell
into the criteria required for inclusion in the study. One of the 232 passenger
survivors contacted me and told me about the meeting in Denver. He knew I was
interested in meeting survivors and thought my research project would benefit by
attending the second anniversary meeting. I recognized the value immediately
this two-year anniversary meeting was providing those who attended. I
experienced feelings of envy—though I am not proud to admit it. My own
experience as a family survivor from the Delta Air Lines Flight 191 crash back
in 1985, did not involve any immediate, nor long-term interaction with
survivors.
When Captain Haynes addressed the group, I remember being
deeply moved by his humility. As he looked around the room at a very large
group, he could not contain his emotions. Tears were visible when Captain Al
began his talk. He told the group that every time he landed an aircraft, he was
carrying 112 invisible people. Referring to the 111 passengers and one crew
member who died in the crash. His sincerity and reverence for those who
perished as well as the survivors and families left behind, was unquestionable.
And as always, Captain Al gave credit to all of the crew members, both front
and back, as equally responsible for the high number of survivors that day.
When he talked about the accident, as was his style, he praised the emergency
responders for their bravery in saving lives in the crash.
When I learned that Al had died a few weeks ago, I looked
back in Handbook for Human Services Response[1]
and re-read quotes from my interviews with him. Following are his own,
personal memories of the crash itself.
The
engine blew. I do not remember the vibration, but later the
co-pilot reminded
me that the aircraft shook so violently that it was nearly impossible for me to
read the instruments to determine that we had lost the number 2 engine. (I
asked why the aircraft was porpoising, which passengers described after the engine exploded).
The
aircraft loses speed. The nose goes down and up to find speed. Because the
aircraft had lost an engine, it continued to porpoise as long as it was in the
air which was 45 minutes. I never thought we would crash. I never believed we
would lose the airplane. I had some doubts
about how we would get to the airport and how we would stop, but I never
doubted that we would get there.
(I asked Al which pilot told the tower to keep them away
from their city? Al said it was he.)
I was remembering
crashes where the aircraft went down in populated areas and people on the
ground were killed. Crashes like PSA over San Diego where all of the people in
the jet were killed and all the people on the small airplane that collided with
the jet were killed, and people on the ground died as well. All of my concentration was taken up with what we were doing in the air. I had no idea
what the results might be when we got to the ground. A pilot’s biggest fear is
loss of an airplane, and that is where all our energy in the cockpit was
focused that day.
Although I don’t
remember being afraid, I must have had some concerns about the results of the
flight that day because I would later learn from the cockpit voice recorder
that I had said, “Well mom (talking to my wife) we may not make it to the
tournament,”
referring to the little league game, where I was scheduled to
assist.
I remember telling
them (the passengers) that I wasn’t going to kid them; it was going to be a
hard landing. I told them to listen to the announcements and then I wished them
good luck.
Dudley made the last
announcement. He said, “Brace, brace!” just prior to impact.
We came in a little
left. The right-wing dipped down. I remember thinking about whether or not we
would make the runway. I heard a whoosh sound. And then I came to in the
wreckage. I remember talking to Bill, the co-pilot. I remember parts of our
conversation. I remember that Dudley was on top of me. I told him that he
needed to lose some weight. We laughed. It was about thirty minutes before the emergency responders found us.
I had a bruised
sternum; one of my ears was almost cut off. There were about 92 stitches in my
scalp as I had cuts on my head. I had a concussion and began to have dizzy
spells immediately, which lasted two to three weeks. My doctors told me to
start flying when I felt
like it. I started flying again within about three
months.
In the beginning, Al had survivor guilt. He felt initially
that somehow, he had been at fault. He had trouble accepting that people had
died in an airplane that he was flying. Talking it out helped him conclude that
it was not his fault. After 25 hours of therapy,
Al realized that he and the
other pilots had done the best they could.
Al came to accept the randomness of who lived and who died
that day. Following are his comments on this:
I believe in luck. I
am not very spiritual. But I know this— something took that airplane to Sioux
City and determined the fate of the people onboard— we just helped.
[1]
Coarsey, C. V. Handbook for Human Services Response, (2004). 
