I read in another forum the Taca 737 landed on the strip from the top of the pic, towards the right corner of the pic and then was towed along the shorter strip towards the roadway.
Here's the NTSB findings:
http://www.ntsb.gov/ntsb/brief.asp?ev_id=2...25693&key=1
View attachment 8167
Joe,
Memory has faded a bit in the last eleven years, so please bear with me. I believe that your description on the actual location of touchdown is correct, and the photo that I've attached shows pretty much the entire distance that it took to bring the aircraft to a stop.
It was really just a normal, rainy, New Orleans day until the voice over the 1MC announced, "Taca 737 with dual engine failure 35 miles south of New Orleans, all pilots lay to Operations." I'm sure that the thoughts that ran through my mind and the minds of my fellow Coasties at that moment were relived in a lot of responders yesterday in New York. One of those thoughts being, I will never be the same after this day, whatever it brings.
I am certain that as they geared up and started rolling and flying toward the scene, there was a small part of their mind trying to imagine just how bad it might actually be. For me, there was no doubt on that day in 1988 that a disasterous scene was in my near future. Given that reality, launching out in the first helo from Belle Chase felt a little different than it normally did.
So we wind our way to the northeast with weather somewhere at or very near our VFR minimums, negotiating a tower farm that stood between us and the scene. With help from ATC, we were heading straight to their last radar return.
Fully prepared (as best as one might think they can be prepared) for what lie ahead, the four of us discussed what our priorites would be upon reaching the scene and how we should respond to what we expected to be a mass casualty situation.
As I said, I have to believe that our thoughts and discussions were reenacted by many responders as they drove, steamed, and flew to the scene on the Hudson yesterday. What were they told? I don't know, but I imagine it was something along the lines of an airliner in the Hudson River. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that images of the Air Florida rescue scene came to many as they closed in on the scene.
Then, in an instance, the utterly unbelievable reality strikes. For me, it was a sight that didn't make sense. Is that really an airliner sitting on it's wheels on the grass? Did someone tow that thing out there in the middle of New Orleans East? It was difficult to reconcile the reality before us. There was no carnage, no tens of thousands of pieces of aircraft, no sights that made us want to look the other way.
In our situation, we had to actually send our corpsman over to the crew, still at the plane, to verify what we were seeing with our own eyes. Yes, thank you very much we're bueno...the NASA folks have already bused our passengers into their building and we're just fine sitting out here. Our biggest challenge was to convince the remaining 4 aircraft from our station that they could return to base. Not a one of them turned around until they got out to the scene and verified for themselves this unlikely outcome.
Of course, while landing on the grass and deplaning via slides is not a normal procedure, it certainly wasn't a rescue operation. Therein lies a big difference. All of the skill and providence that brought the Taca 737 to a contolled return to terra firma were replicated yesterday. But yesterday, in addition to the superb airmanship that was demonstrated, the job was not complete when the aircraft came to a stop.
I wish I could experience the emotions that the rescuers on scene yesterday felt as they jostled and shuffled along these people who had seemingly been stolen from the very hand of a much different fate than they experienced.
So what does one call that emotion that is experienced in such a situation? Is it joy? Relief? Disbelief? Gratitude? I can't label it.
HP/FA mentioned Al Haynes. Yes. In Taca, United, and now with Capt. Sully, we now see lives being saved through effective leadership and superb airmanship. Providence saw to it that there were rescuers available in all three cases, necessary in two of them. In Sioux City, it was an Air Force Reserve unit conducting a mass casualty drill on the airport at the precise time that the DC-10 circled down toward it. In yesterday's case, it was the sheer number and proximity of rescue units, private vessels, and commercial vessels to the aircraft in what would have to be one of the busiest harbors in the world.
So how do we ever stop saying and posting our perceptions? We don't want to stop. Because we realize the thin margin that separates the actual outcome from other potential outcomes. We can't stop saying that this is a miracle. We can't stop saying how well everyone did their jobs. We can't stop saying that the passengers actually contributed to their and each others' survival by remaining calm (I guess that's a relative term). We can't stop saying how much we respect those who closed in on this floating potential powderkeg without consideration for their own safety. We want to tell each other over and over again that the best in people was visible yesterday.
It's a day for everyone in this industry to be proud. I know I am.