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."