Fire From The Sky
Every day, dozens of flights approaching the airport here glide right over Key West High school. What if one of those flights doesn't quite make the runway? Here is a fictional account of a horrifying possibility.
By Michael Ritchie
EDITOR’S NOTE: This story was first published in Key West the Newspaper in April of 1996. It is a fictitious account of a disaster that has not yet happened. But it could happen tomorrow. The Key West International Airport is in the wrong place.
In 1941, Monroe County owned property on Boca Chica Key. The plan was to construct Key West Municipal Airport on that property. Much of the construction money had already been procured from the Civil Aviation Authority. This modern airport would replace little Meacham Field, which had been located on the site of our current airport since 1927.
But then World War II came along and the Navy needed the land on Boca Chica to build a military airport. Patriotic County officials were happy to give up the land for their new airport in the spirit of the war effort— with the understanding that they would get it back, with all improvements, at the end of the war. But that never happened. And our local airport is still at “Meacham field”.
“Fire From the Sky” is re-published here just as Ritchie wrote it in 1994, before the recent reconstruction of KWHS. The City officials, school officials and others named in the story were common names in the news in the early 1990s.
FRIDAY, MAY 24, 1996
MIAMI INT’L AIRPORT
8:22 A.M.
A Boeing 727 jetliner rolls for takeoff down runway 2-R out of Miami International Airport. It is an unscheduled flight destined for Key West. (While 737s are banned from landing at KWIA because runways are not stressed for the aircraft, two have been allowed to land there in recent months).
On board Paradise Airlines Flight 106 are 60 persons – among them coaches, players and staff of a mid-west basketball team which just last night defeated the Miami Heat and decided to celebrate with a day or two in Key West before flying back to the frigid midwest.
The flight crew includes 52-year-old Capt. James McDonald, Co-pilot Dan Ward, 45, and Engineer David Jones, 42. Flight attendants Debbie Welch, 28, and Donna Nace, 34, were called in to service the unscheduled flight. They looked forward to the overtime and the sizable tips they generally receive from such notable passengers – perhaps free tickets to NBA games.
KEY WEST HIGH SCHOOL
8:27 A.M.
Debbie Clark drops her son James off at school – a little later than usual – at the Flagler Street entrance of Key West High. She leans to kiss her son goodbye, but he’s already out the door.
“Have a nice day,” she calls to him. “I love you.” She has no idea.
IN THE AIR OVER THE EVERGLADES
8:42 A.M.
For a 727 it is a short hop to Key West. Paradise Flight 106 is already about to begin its slow descent. Capt. McDonald asks his engineer to begin the descent checklist and contacts Miami control.
PILOT: Miami Center . . . Paradise Flight 106. Flight level 330.
MIAMI CENTER: Paradise Flight 106, you’re cleared to descend to 10,000 feet. Altimeter is 3001.
PILOT: Roger, Miami. Leaving 330 and beginning our descent now.
ENGINEER: Key West doesn’t have an ATIS. (ATIS –Information given out on a discreet frequency detailing wind, weather, active runway, etc.)
PILOT: What do you mean, they don’t have an ATIS?
MIAMI CENTER: Paradise Flight 106. I understand Key West doesn’t have an ATIS. What’s the weather down there?
MIAMI CENTER: Well, there’s some imbedded thunderstorms in the local area. Altimeter 3001. A little bit of rain showers. Temperature is 86 degrees, and the winds are strong out of the East.
PILOT TO CO-PILOT: What do you think he means by strong?
CO-PILOT: I don’t know. Ask him.
PILOT: Miami Center, Paradise 106 – What are the winds at KWIA?
MIAMI CENTER: Winds are variable – 090 to 120 – 10 mph gusting to 25, with thunderstorms in the local area.
PILOT: Roger, Miami center. Thank you. (TO CO-PILOT): Well, what do you think?
CO-PILOT: Hell, if you can’t hack it, don’t dress out.
PILOT: Well, listen, back when I flew with Eastern we landed in Key West with thunderstorms all the time. Hell, there are storms all over Florida this time of year.
CO-PILOT: No big deal. Hey what are we gonna do tonight?
PILOT: I don’t know. How bout Sloppy Joe’s?
ENGINEER: Are we gonna take the flight attendants?
PILOT: Hell no, they’re no fun, and they’ll expect us to pay for their meals.
KEY WEST HIGH SCHOOL D-WING
8:45 A.M.
The bell has just sounded for First Period. For James Clark, 16, it’s Algebra. The only thing James likes about Algebra is that early in the semester he managed to seat himself near the window and – praise God – the incomparable Gloria Cruz.
She’s wearing that terrific tank-top again, the boy thinks to himself.
Outside, there is a flash of lightening and rain begins to tap on the classroom window.
In B-Wing, Principal Alma Carstens-Olson is doing her morning rounds, checking on the daycare facility – a unique service offered for young mothers who want to return to school.
“How many babies do we have today?” she asks the full-time nurse on duty.
“Fifteen, a full load,” the nurse grimaces.
“Have fun,” Olsen laughs.
IN THE AIR – 60 MILES OUT 8:54 A.M.
Paradise Flight 106 continues its slow, fateful descent toward Key West International.
CO-PILOT: Hey, Captain, there’s some pretty bad weather up there – look on the radar.
PILOT: Yeah, but we can get in between the cells.
MIAMI CENTER: Paradise Flight 106 . . . you’ve got traffic at twelve o’clock, six miles – looks like he’s at 9500 feet VFR.
PILOT: Roger, Miami. We don’t have him in sight. Keep us advised.
MIAMI CENTER: Paradise Flight 106 . . . level off to 12,000 feet.
PILOT: Roger, leveling 12,000 feet.
MIAMI CENTER: Paradise Flight 106. . . you’re clear that traffic and cleared on down to 5,000 feet. You’re about 60 miles out.
PILOT: Roger, Miami Center. We’re leaving 12,000 feet descending to 5,000 feet.
KEY WEST FIRE STATION NO. 1
9:55 A.M.
Key West firefighters are routinely checking equipment and getting ready for another day.
“Any drills today?” Dan asks.
“No, looks pretty quiet. Anyone for dominoes?”
“Naw, I wanta watch Donahue.”
PARADISE DESCENDING
Capt. McDonald and his crew are discussing plans for a rare night off in Key West.
MIAMI CENTER: Paradise Flight 106 . . . contact Navy Center for your final . . . frequency 119.25.
PILOT: Roger, thank you Miami Center. Will contact on 119.25.
The Captain changes frequency and calls Navy Center for instructions.
PILOT: Navy, this is Paradise Flight 106 – level 5,000 feet.
NAVY CENTER: Paradise Flight 106, Navy. Squawk 0300 and press Ident.
PILOT: Roger – 0300, Ident.
NAVY CENTER: Paradise Flight 106, Navy Center. You’re 54 miles North of Key West. Be advised that there are thunderstorms imbedded in the local area; winds are out of the East 10, gusting to 25. Altimeter is 3001. You’re cleared down to 3,000 feet. Cleared the approach into Key West. Call VFR.
Capt. McDonald eases his aircraft down, closer and closer to Key West International – and Key West High School. At about 15 miles out, he can see both clearly.
PILOT TO CO-PILOT: Hey, look, there’s a cell on each side of the runway. Gimme flaps five.
His co-pilot sets the “bug” for flaps setting five.
Pass the landing card up – let’s set our bug speed. We’ll do ref plus five on the approach and it’ll be a full flaps landing, just like I used to do for Eastern when we landed here.
Paradise Flight 106 is in approach configuration with some of the flaps down and is slowing airspeed – 205 knots. There are storm cells on the North side of Flagler and on the South side, creating a light rain on each side of the road.
CO-PILOT: Hey, silly of me to ask this, but are we allowed to land in Key West?
PILOT: They’re sending us vectors to final, aren’t they?
CO-PILOT: Yeah, but they’re mighty short runways.
PILOT: What’d you say, if you can’t hack it . . .
CO-PILOT: Roger.
Rain intensifies in both storm cells just off the runway, between it and the school. Wind is shifting dramatically.
NAVY CENTER: Paradise Flight 106, do you have KWIA in sight?
PILOT: Roger, Navy Center.
NAVY CENTER: Paradise 106, contact the tower on 118.3.
PILOT: Key West Tower, this is Paradise Flight 106. We’re 12 miles on final with the runway in sight.
KEY WEST TOWER: Paradise 106. . . we don’t have you in sight. Make sure your landing lights are on. Winds are out of the East, variable with gusts up to 25 mph and the direction seems to be varying with thunderstorms in the local area. No one else in the traffic patter.
You’re cleared to land. Call on final approach.
PILOT: Roger, Key West, will call on final. [TO CO-PILOT] Flaps fifteen.
The captain pulls back on his throttles to slow the aircraft.
Gear down.
There is a slow, mechanical grinding sound. Ca-chunk. A red light on the control panel changes to green. The landing gear is deployed.
Let’s get her slowed down.
CO-PILOT: Yeah, we’re goin’ pretty quick. Remember, we’re heavy with fuel for the flight back.
PILOT: The rain looks like it’s getting heavier. It’s coming across the final approach but I can still see the runway, can’t you?
CO-PILOT: Roger . . . Sure is bumpy down here, though.
PILOT: Yeah, watch the airspeed – it’s bouncin’ around.
PILOT: We’re sure havin’ to hold a lot of power in this thing to maintain our airspeed.
CO-PILOT: Yeah, but you know we can’t have too much speed ‘cause the runway’s short and we’ve got to really watch our airspeed. The runway might be wet, too. We don’t want to run off the end.
PILOT TO TOWER: Paradise Flight 106. What’s your runway status? Has it been raining there?
KEY WEST TOWER: Negative. No rain here in about 15 minutes. Runway appears to be dry.
PILOT: Roger, we’re on final approach.
KEY WEST TOWER: Paradise 106, we see your lights. You’re cleared to land. Wind is variable 090 to 120, gusting to 25.
PILOT: Roger.
KEY WEST TOWER: Paradise 106, it appears the wind is coming around – almost a complete crosswind – around 160 to 180 degrees now.
PILOT: Roger. (TO CO-PILOT) Boy, it’s sure holdin’ a lot of power.
CO-PILOT: Hey, your airspeed’s increasing quite a bit.
PILOT: My God, you’re right. Lemme pull back on the power.
A TAIL WIND
The pilot “throttles back,” but the 727 is experiencing a sudden dramatic tailwind, increasing its forward airspeed.
CO-PILOT: Captain, you’ve got 20 knots over V-speed.
PILOT: I know, I know. I’m trying to get the power back now.
CO-PILOT: You’ve got 25 knots.
PILOT: I know, damn it. I’ve got the power coming back.
In her office 150 feet below Paradise Flight 106, Principal Carstens-Olson glances up at just another flight approaching Key West International Airport.
“One day,” she whispers to herself, quickly dismissing the thought.
In D-Wing, James Clark passes a note to the incomparable Gloria Cruz. “Meet me after class,” it reads.
HEAD WIND
Overhead, Capt. McDonald is encountering a rougher landing than he anticipated.
CO-PILOT: Hey, Captain, you’ve got ref speed and it’s comin’ back.
A 45-mph head wind is now causing the jet engine propellers to wind back.
Captain, you’ve got ref minus 10. The power’s coming forward.
The Captain throttles forward to regain airspeed.
Captain, ref-twenty!
The stick is shaking violently in Capt. McDonald’s hand. The aircraft shudders like a giant freight train suddenly grinding to a halt. Sweat appears on his brow and his heart begins to pound.
Captain, the nose is starting to drop – raise your nose!
“Whoop, Whoop, Pull Up!; Whoop, Whoop, Pull Up!” the ground proximity indicator is the last warning of imminent disaster.
Captain, you’re unspooled!
PILOT: Aw, fu—
IMPACT
The landing gear of the 727 smashes into a corner of B-Wing – closing off access to the front of the daycare facility with debris – and tears off the roof of C-Wing as the aircraft careens uncontrollably into the high school peopled with 1300 unsuspecting students and faculty.
The screams of students cannot be discerned for the violent crash and explosive impact of metal and concrete as the fuselage of Paradise Flight 106 drives full force into D-Wing. Gloria will not meet James after class. There is no more class.
The giant tail section of the plane flies backward, landing in the fire lane North of the school, blocking the other entrance to the daycare facility – and the 15 babies.
On impact with D-Section, the explosive force smashes all windows in J-Section of the school. A flying glass pane two feet square decapitates one student. A giant fireball of jet fuel follows the explosive force forward, into the classrooms.
The sound of student cries increases, together with the sound of metal collapsing on metal as the burning fuselage of the plane settles between C and D Wings. All 60 souls on board are dead.
In her office in the administration building, Principal Carstens-Olson, who was thrown from her desk by the explosion, reaches for the phone to dial 911. Her call joins 20 to 30 others lighting up police, fire and emergency switchboards from Miami to Key West.
Fire Chief Richard Wardlow, meeting with Deputy Chief Tim “Buddha” Fahey about budgets gets the first call minutes after the impact. He dispatches Stations 1, 2 and 3 to the scene. He also immediately orders all off-duty firefighters to report to the school by any means available. Two backup trucks are ordered to the scene. Navy crash rescue at NASKW is alerted.
City and County police have already arrived at the scene by the time Station 1 trucks pull up.
“The gates are locked!” Budha Fahey shouts. “Get the bolt cutters. Get in there now. Head for B-Wing – the babies!”
In his office at the Mosquito Control Board, Mayor Dennis Wardlow receives a call from Police Chief Ray Peterson informing him of the disaster. The mayor is in charge of all police, fire and rescue operations in a disaster. A squad car is on its way to pick him up and carry him to a control center at City Hall. “Forget City Hall,” Wardlow shouts, “Tell the officer I’ll be going to the high school.”
At the school there is pandemonium. Students are lying in clumps between buildings. Many wear clothing still afire. Fire trucks abandon bolt cutters and use their trucks to smash through flimsy chain link fences to get to the fire and the injured. Firefighters are spraying foam on the plane and on J-Wing, which is engulfed in fire.
EMS vehicles from the city and county have begun to arrive and are assessing injuries.
“The cafeteria’s triage,” one shouts to another. “The field’s a morgue.”
Dep. Fire Chief Fahey is leading a group of three firefighters wearing gas masks toward B-Wing. The group can hear the distinct cries of infants.
“Too much debris,” Fahey shouts. “We’ll never get in this way. Go through the admin building.” Luckily, Fahey’s been here before. He knows the layout. In minutes, the firefighters are in the day care center.
Just as lucky, all the children are safe. The nurse has them all huddled in a corner, blankets over their heads.
“Let’s move ’em outa here,” Fahey instructs his men.
At Lower Florida Keys Health Center, Richard Farkus, Director of Plant Operations and Disaster Officer has already instituted the hospital’s External Disaster Plan. He has directed the switchboard to call in all doctors and hospital personnel. He has ordered security to “lock down” the facility. He knows that he will need to keep emergency vehicle lanes open and visitors out.
The clock is ticking faster.
Mayor Wardlow arrives at the scene where Chief Peterson apprises him of the situation.
“We’re sure everyone on the plane’s dead, he says. “And we’ve got a number of students killed. Maybe 60 to 100 burned . . . bad jet fuel burns.”
Wardlow uses Peterson’s radio to direct that a call be made to Gov.
Chiles requesting him to contact the governor of North Carolina and alert the Air National Guard that a C-130 may be needed to fly wounded out of NASKW.
Students and teachers are being carried past on stretchers, on blankets, on cardboard boxes. They are being spaced out on the front lawn, also now being used for triage.
Wardlow sees Monroe County Police Chief Rick Roth and Commissioner Harry Bethel carrying an injured young girl through the front security gate.
“They called me at the office— I had to help,” Bethel says. Then he heads back into the school.
At the hospital, injured have begun to arrive— in ambulances, pickup trucks, cars and any other conveyances at hand. The staff is quickly overwhelmed. Trauma must be treated first. They can stabilize burn victims and ship them elsewhere for treatment. It will be six to eight hours before a C-130 can arrive to transport.
In the meantime, medivac helicopters are summoned from as far away as Dade County. Mariners and Fisherman’s Hospitals are put on alert and soon begin receiving patients.
Parents have begun to show up at the school and at the hospital, creating a major problem for rescue operations.
But, slowly, the wounded are being treated and transported away from the scene. Sixty from the plane are dead; 40 students killed; 73 students and faculty injured or severely burned.
The fire is out. The smoke lingers. One lone figure lingers among the unidentified dead. Father James Fallon, of Saint Mary’s Star of The Sea Catholic Church, administers Last Rites. He is wearing a purple ribbon around his neck for a stole. He makes a sign of the cross with sacred oil on the bodies of the victims and slowly, dutifully, recites the words:
"Lord, we ask your grace and forgiveness for any sins these people may have committed in human weakness. We would ask that you would welcome them into Paradise..."
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