A Fighter Pilot's Perspective On That Terrible Day

The day terrorists attacked New York and Washington was already a migraine day under the mountain at NORAD's headquarters near Colorado Springs (CO). The command was conducting a coast-to-coast drill when there was a disturbing increase in Russian military air activity near the Alaskan coast and nobody knew what it was all about. But the NORAD drill continued, as wary controllers kept an eye on the Russians.

Then, all hell broke loose. After a second hijacked passenger aircraft slammed into New York's World Trade Center, the drill was abandoned and, for the first time ever, the mammoth blast doors at the base of Cheyenne Mountain were closed to ward off a potential attack. That's when NORAD's job description changed in a way no one could have anticipated.

Since then, NORAD has coordinated more than 35,000 fighter patrols over US and Canadian airspace, on the lookout for more terrorist hijackings. More than 1,800 sorties have been scrambled to intercept civilian aircraft thought to have been behaving suspiciously.

Air National Guard Major Rob Swertfager's life was also turned upside down on that terrible day in September, 2001. Three weeks earlier, Swertfager had just returned from the skies over Iraq, where he flew patrols as part of Operation Southern Watch. Now he was about to patrol the skies over his own country from the Fresno ANG Base (CA).

"It was a big event for us to fly over Iraq and get shot at every day. We thought the hard part was over. We were wrong," said Swertfager, in an interview with the San Mateo County Times. Within minutes of arriving for work at the ANG's 144th Fighter Wing that Tuesday, Swertfager was in the air, his F-16 loaded for an intercept.

Amazingly, the Russians shut down their military exercise so close to American airspace. And the FAA was in the process of grounding all civilian flights. Still, Swertfager's job that morning was staggering. With only 20 fighters capable of defending American airspace and no idea what was coming next, Swertfager's was one of only four fighter aircraft available to cover the entire West Coast.

He sped on full burner to the skies over San Francisco, where he was to inspect an errant Thai Airlines flight from Bangkok. The pilot of the commercial flight had been ordered to divert to Canada, but refused to comply. There was a language problem -- the Thai air crew may have known enough English to file a clearance and accept in-flight deviations, but they couldn't communicate the fact that they had miscalculated their fuel burn and just didn't have enough gas to make it to Canada.

 "That was a bit scary because the pilot was conveying mysterious messages," said Ron Wilson, who worked as a spokesman for SFO until accepting a job with ABC News as an aviation consultant. He, too, spoke with the San Mateo County Times. "It appeared to the air traffic controllers and NORAD to be suspicious. The pilot didn't want to be diverted." The Thai flight was one of the last in the air after all traffic was grounded. Its crew was apparently unaware of the events in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. But all that changed when two armed F-16s pulled alongside.

"It was surreal," Swertfager told the paper. "As we got closer and closer, this guy was not complying with the order to lower his gears. If this had been an attack, he never would have made it."

It was an incident that could have proven fatal to the Thai Airline crew and all onboard. Disaster was averted, however, when bilingual workers at the airline's San Francisco office were hustled to the airport so they could speak to the crew in their native tongue.

Swertfager was drained after the encounter. "I was very emotionally and intellectually spent. That's an understatement. It was so draining, I just took a nap," he said.

NORAD won't talk about how often this sort of thing happens, but other air defense pilots say it's pretty rare for a day to go by without an intercept of a civilian aircraft. Swertfager continues to patrol American skies, just in case the unthinkable happens again.

"The meaning of our job changed forever," Swertfager said. "We have a little more at stake than when we flew over Iraq. There, I was responsible to me, my wing man and my commander. Here, I'm responsible to me, my wing man and my commander, too, but my wife and children are on the ground, along with my friends and neighbors. I grew up in the Bay Area, and my grandparents are there, so for me to do combat air patrol is like a reward for me. I like the fact that I'm the guy up there taking care of them. If something's going to happen, I want it to happen when I'm here."

FMI: www.fresno.ang.af.mil