6 Second Officer Tales

flying sideways with tca

Some of the junior DC-8 captains and first officers, imbued by the spirit of aviation writer Ernest K. Gann's, band of aviator brothers, chose to spit in the face of these illconceived regulations not permitting second officers to fly the airplane, and did allow some of us to land and take off these lumbering hulks. Some senior second officers who could have chosen overseas trips at higher pay chose to fly with junior captains domestically for less money. This must have vexed the company, but for junior people like me it did not make any difference—i was on a flat payscale i remember my first trip as a second officer with Ralph Leek. i was not looking forward to it. He had a reputation with the second officers as a cigar chomping gruff bully with an abusive manner. i had been drafted, as we all had been, on a crappy freezing rainy day in November 1965, to go to Kingston Jamaica and back. i cannot remember who the first officer was. Anyway, it was Ralph’s birthday and i rightfully assumed he would be in a bad mood. He grumped about it all the way to Kingston. On the ground, after i monitored the refuelling, i thought i would go inside the terminal and since i had never been there before, buy a small chintzy souvenir to take home. While i was there i spotted some cigars so i thought, what the heck as a second officer with a wife and three kids i didn’t have much spare cash but i’ll buy the boss a cigar for his birthday and try to cheer him up. When we were all seated in the cockpit, i wished Ralph Happy Birthday and handed him the cigar. it was a cheap one but he graciously accepted my small offering and after punching the First officer playfully in the left shoulder—i was happy to be out of punching range—he bestowed upon us a great big grin.

Climbing out of 10,000 he yelled, “Come on up here young fella and let’s see if you can fly this thing.” i guess the first officer had flown with him before because without question he gave up his seat and off i went i hand flew that big DC-8 all the way back to Toronto at 33000 feet never relinquishing control to the auto pilot even for a moment. i was in my glory. Then we started down. The freezing rain had stopped and turned to straight rain with a slight crosswind. Approaching 10,000 feet i started to get antsy. i thought, “i guess i better get ready to get out of the seat.” i do not think once during the flight i had looked back to see what the first officer was doing in my seat. i was too busy having fun so i did not look at him but in retrospect, i think there was a conspiracy—no, an understanding between him and Ralph. it’s hard to define that kind of relationship where two pilots without saying a word completely understand each other’s thoughts. There was no need for Ralph to discuss with the first officer that he was going to let me land the DC-8 nor seek a consensus from him for that decision. i didn’t understand it then but it became clear to me later that the first officer had complete faith in Ralph’s judgement. it didn’t dawn on me till Ralph called for the in-range check that i was actually going to land the thing. Anyway, i landed it—not a bad landing i must say, and during the whole episode, gone was Ralph's gruff hazing as he calmly coached me through it. it’s funny, once we were on the ground and taxiing in, Ralph reverted seamlessly to his contrived blustering banter as he boomed at the first officer and i, “ Okay you boneheads, let’s play musical chairs.”

Ralph must have sensed my fussing anxiety— he leaned over and growled in his gravelly voice, ”You stay put young fella."

That was the day Ralph became my new BFF, (Best Friend Forever)

Some people are like badly wrapped Christmas presents that give no inkling of the gem that might be hidden inside.