“David, MSN 856 is a disaster! I think we have dead bodies…”
On the 15th of November 2007, I was involved in my first aircraft accident. It was the worst day of my career. I was sitting in the customer office at the Airbus delivery centre in Toulouse, France, when I saw the Airbus delivery manager in the office next to me suddenly rush out the door, whilst putting his high vis jacket on. 5 minutes later he called me and said,
‘David, MSN 856 is a disaster! I think we have dead bodies! I’m on my way to pick you up!”
He was there within a minute, waiting to take me to the engine run facility (bikini). As we drove to the side of the structure, my eyes widened as we approached the scene. It was like something from a film – a cold, night, with a thick mist hanging over everything, flashing orange lights and fire trucks everywhere. It was surreal. Then I saw the aircraft accident. The nose section of the aircraft had smashed through the concrete wall and was now hanging over the edge like a pendulum! Fire teams surrounded the crash site, and no one was allowed near the aeroplane as two of the engines were still running with 70 tonnes of fuel on board!
I was informed by the ferry flight manager, whose husband was the chief fire marshal, who confirmed that everyone involved in the aircraft accident was alive! Upon receiving this news, intense relief washed over me, and you could see the same on everyone else’s face. Some had suffered some pretty severe injuries, but 4 of the crew had made it out of the rear exit completely unscathed. I insisted they be brought to the front of the aircraft so I could see which team members they were.
Once I did and ensured they were all okay, I told Airbus to take them to the medical centre to be checked over. The Etihad on-site rep went with them, and I asked that they stay with them and keep me notified of their progress and condition.
The three members of my team who had been in the forward section were already on their way to hospital. Knowing they were in safe hands, I called the VP of engineering to let him know the situation.
“There has been a severe aircraft accident, 856 is an absolute write-off!”
“Are you joking!?” he replied.
I assured him that this was no joke.
Whilst I was doing this, the Etihad pilot called the Chief Operating Officer. As soon as I got off the phone, it started ringing. It was the CEO – asking for an immediate status report on the aeroplane and condition of the team onboard.
I told him that the four who were in the aft section had gone to the medical centre for a check-up but were otherwise unharmed, but three from the team and two from Airbus had to be taken to hospital due to their injuries, one of which had to be airlifted. I then explained that the aircraft had broken its back, with the forward section on one side of the concrete wall and the rest on the other, there were also two engines still running, with 70 tonnes of fuel left inside. As I took another look at the scene, I added that the wreckage could be seen from the terminal and that the aircraft was covered head to toe in Etihad Livery.
“Do you want me to do anything about that?” I asked.
“No.” Came the reply. “It is not our aircraft, David. We have nothing to hide.”
He then asked me to update him in real-time, which I did through numerous calls throughout the evening and night till two in the morning.
When I was no longer needed at the scene of the aircraft accident, I was taken to hospital by Airbus to check on my team. Upon arrival, I was joined by a translator, and we were able to see all of them individually. One had a knee injury, the other an injured arm and another a broken ankle. The broken ankle was in the captain’s seat at the time of the incident. He managed to escape the aircraft via a sliding window in the cockpit, also known as the DV window (direct vision). You can see the open window in the picture below.
The arm injury was standing just behind the flight deck and was thrown out of the aircraft through the large rip between the cockpit and fuselage, cutting his arm on the way out. The knee injury was sitting in first class, checking out the entertainment system at my request, when he was suddenly propelled through the same rip and ended up on the grass, sitting upright, with his headphones still on his head!
“Mr David,” He said, almost apologetically, “I was in first class, doing what you asked when I heard the engines turn off. When they were turned on again the next thing, I knew I was outside, sitting on the grass!”
The most severely injured was the flight test engineer who broke a bone in his back, whilst the other Airbus ground test engineer had sustained some leg injuries. I spoke to him that night as well and he was beside himself “Mr. David! I have no idea why I didn’t follow procedure and power down as I should have! I cannot understand why I did not do that!”
Once the team had been checked on, we collected all the statements and began to piece together how the aircraft accident of MSN 856 occurred –
The aircraft was stationary with the parking brake on. All four engines were brought up to high power in unison and as a result, the parking brake could not hold the aircraft. The engineer took the parking brake off and used the foot brakes to apply full pressure, but the aircraft continued to move. To steer clear, the engineer turned the nose wheel to the right, which caused the centre gear brakes to be released. The plane at this point was doing 35 knots and with the concrete wall in front of it, there was nowhere left to go but up, over, and through!
The whole incident took just 13 seconds, but the effects rippled across the company and the aviation world. A thorough investigation was conducted, and a detailed report was published, which is now in the public domain. Airbus safety procedures underwent a vigorous overhaul, and the construction of a Major Incident Centre (MIC) became standard at Etihad head office.
Despite every injured crew member making a full recovery, the engineer responsible suffered a great deal of trauma for a further two years. I would see him often, and I could tell he was going through it. So, I spoke to Thierry Cross, the chief flight test engineer, and we decided that at the final A340 delivery that was approaching, we would bring both delivery teams back together again. He hadn’t seen any of these people since the accident and had avoided them all this time. When this hunched man shuffled awkwardly across the tarmac, and the team greeted and embraced him as a friend, the physical change in that ground test engineer could be visibly seen, and it’s a sight I’ll never forget.
‘That is the best thing we have ever done in our entire career, David.” Thierry said to me as we watched from a nearby hangar. I have never disputed this.
Even though the MSN 856 aircraft accident was one of the darkest days in my career, I was comforted by the knowledge that all the people on board had survived and that it could have been so much worse, especially if the main fuel tanks had ignited. We all learned valuable lessons that day, especially the importance of safety and the value of people, and these are the ones that are at the forefront of my mind on all my deliveries.
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