Pilots don't like to talk about their near-misses.
Their livelihood depends on the presumption that flying is safe, and for the most part, it is. According Federal Aviation Administration statistics from 2002, small planes averaged 60 accidents for every million hours of flight time -- about 30 times the rate of large airliners, but still relatively low.
But when Carroll Turner's small plane smashed into the rocks at Albert Whitted Airport in downtown St. Petersburg, Fla., last month, that presumption was shaken -- as it is every time a plane goes down.
And most long-time pilots have a near-miss story -- the tale of a flight or event that could have ended badly, but didn't.
We asked Turner and three other local survivors to share their tales of the day they went down -- from bum engines to blazing fires -- and were lucky enough to fly again.
Fireball Carroll Turner brought his two-seater Maule down towards the runway May 17, 2007, one of more than 600 routine landings he had performed at Albert Whitted Airport since he started flying in 1999. The 61-year-old St. Petersburg resident was returning with his cousin from a business trip in Miami, and was eager to get home.
It was a beautiful day for flying.
But as Turner was about to touch down, a gust of wind knocked the airplane to the side. Turner hit the gas to keep the wing from brushing the ground. Then another jolt of wind smacked the plane into the asphalt, sending it skidding into a looming rock pile at full throttle.
"You've seen the crash dummies," Turner said. "I figure that's how I looked."
Turner was pitched forward onto his steering wheel. At first, he was sure he had been impaled. Later, he would learn that the stabbing pain in his chest was five fractured ribs and a bruised lung. He couldn’t breathe.
By the time Turner was able to gulp some air, his cousin had already escaped the plane and crawled on top of the rocks. Then he realized the plane was on fire.
With flames licking the cockpit on the pilot's side, Turner dragged himself out the copilot's door. Moments later, the plane was engulfed in fire.
It all happened so quickly that Turner didn't have time to be afraid.
"After I got out of the hospital and started thinking about things, it kind of brought me to my senses," Turner said. "My wife came in and started crying, glad I was alive, and I started thinking, 'Wow.' I respect life a little bit more than I did."
Shortly after the accident, Turner told reporters that he didn't think he would buy another plane.
But less than a week later, he was signing the papers for a new one.
Splash down
CRASH COURSE
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Flight instructor Jack Turnstill’s step-by-step guide to surviving an imminent plane crash:
1. “Fly the airplane first.” Even if it isn’t fully operational, a plane can often glide to safety. The most important thing to do is stay in control.
2. “Aim for the runway first. If not, you’re going swimming.” A runway is always the best landing spot, but if the plane can’t make it, water is better than nothing. Tampa Bay is a convenient last-ditch destination near Albert Whitted Airport.
3. “Once you’re in control, communicate the problem.” The Fire Department or Coast Guard can often be on the scene before the plane hits the ground.
4. “Prepare for the landing.” If the plane is headed for water, open the doors and crack the windows, because closed doors can bend on impact and trap the passengers inside the plane. If the plane is headed for land, just try to position it to avoid obstacles.
5. “Don’t protect the airplane, protect yourself.” If the plane is going to hit something, let the wing hit it, not the body.
6. “Get the heck out of the airplane!”
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Twenty years ago, Tom Merrifield slowed his classic J3 Piper Cub and steadied it low over St. Pete Beach. He was doing a job for his small business, Advertising Air Force, dragging a long ad banner past the crowds on the shore.
Then, without warning, Merrifield heard the engine cough and give out. He was just 500 feet above the water, and didn't have much time to react. It was all he could do to dump his banner and bring the plane's nose down. By the time he could say "Oh, my!" the plane was in the Gulf of Mexico.
Before he could panic, the plane had stopped and he was in one piece.
The Piper Airplane Company had built Merrifield's Cub in the 1940s, making it an antique even at the time of the crash. But its light weight and low speed compared with modern aircraft made it ideal for Merrifield's business. Those same traits made it well-suited for surviving a crash.
Because it was stripped down to the bare minimum, there was nothing to break loose and injure Merrifield. He just crawled out of the open-air cockpit and swam 300 feet to shore.
"This was like, 'Boom!' And seconds later, you're in the water," Merrifield said. "I was just like 'OK, that's not what I planned.' "
Merrifield escaped the crash without a scratch. By the time the Piper was dragged from the gulf, someone had already stolen the engine. The saltwater and the landing ruined what was left.
The Advertising Air Force still flies one of its four working Piper Cubs every day, and Merrifield is always looking to add to the fleet. But though he jumped right back into the sky after his crash, the boss, now 56, has long since retired from the cockpit.
Dead stickBill Buston brought his 1940 single-engine airplane up and in formation with another plane. They were out for some recreational flying on a nice day 15 years ago. The two pilots had just taken off from St. Petersburg-Clearwater International Airport, and hadn't even left range of the control tower when Buston heard the engine cough and nearly quit.
He instantly began searching for a landing spot. Up ahead was the Courtney Campbell Causeway, a 10-mile stretch of road hemming the beach between Tampa and Clearwater. It teemed with cars and trucks. He considered landing to the side of it, along the beach, and hoping for the best.
Buston radioed his fellow pilot and the control tower to let them know he was in trouble. As the seconds went by and the engine held on, Buston thought he might be able to return to the airport.
He managed to steer the plane back around before the engine gave out altogether. It happened just as Buston was throttling back for the landing, leaving him with a "dead stick" -- essentially an unpowered glide.
The control tower hastily cleared the runway as Buston brought the aircraft down, hit the asphalt and slowed to a halt. The plane had to be towed off the runway.
"It's amazing, it's not like an automobile crash where it happens all at once," said Buston, now 81. "There is a moment. ... But it's very fleeting because you start thinking about what you're going to do, where you're going to go."
When Buston got to get out and look at his plane, there was no discernible damage. It took awhile to find the culprit: the engine had swallowed a valve. Essentially, a single small piece had broken loose and been trapped inside the engine, bouncing around and wreaking havoc. If it hadn't punched through the casing and escaped, the engine would have given out even sooner.
The plane had to be disassembled and trucked back to Albert Whitted, Buston's home airport. But after some work and time, Buston and his plane were back in the air.
"I appreciate life every day I get to go up in a plane," Buston said. "And on the days that I don't, I appreciate that I'll get to again.”
The instructorAs Jack Turnstill brought his Piper Lance over the Pier toward Albert Whitted Airport about three years ago, everything checked out okay. The professional pilot and instructor turned to his client and said, "You've got three in the green."
That meant that all three landing gears were deployed safely, and it was true -- at least until the front wheel touched the runway. Then, the front gear collapsed back into the plane, the nose hit the ground and everything went crazy.
"At that point, you're at the mercy of Mother Nature," Turnstill said. "We were there for the ride. There wasn't anything I could do about it. You're just there till it stops."
The nose propeller hit the ground in front of the plane, dug into the runway and started pulling the plane to the side. It skidded off the asphalt and into the grass, spewing up chunks of earth as the prop continued to spin. Finally, the whole mess ground to a stop in the middle of a field. It all happened in less than five seconds.
As soon as the nose hit the ground, all Turnstill could think about was what he had forgotten to do. He turned to the gear handle and saw that it was in the correct position. Then he and his client bolted from the plane. There were ambulances on the scene within minutes, but neither man was injured.
The wreck turned out to be just a simple mechanical failure. The ground crew told him it was looking like a great landing until the gear folded up.
Over 8,000 flying hours and 28 years of flight instruction, Turnstill hasn't had a major problem before or since.
