jul-aug2012

50
CLOSE CALLS
Taking control
Name withheld by request
I was flying an international heavy jet to New Chitose, Japan,
also known as Sapporo. It was May 2012, and the usual threats
of cold weather, snowy conditions and contaminated runways
which plague the airport early in the year were fortunately not
in evidence this time. Our early afternoon arrival was in clear
skies, with 25km visibility reported by ATIS and ATC suggesting
a visual approach.
Before descent, and after the approach briefing, the captain
suggested that we should have an extra stage of flap out than
normally specified when abeam the threshold. The descent
was normal and radar vectors were given until in sight of the
aerodrome, then a visual approach clearance was issued.
By late downwind, I selected autopilot off and with everything
normal I turned base leg.
The captain commented about the military runway at the far side
of the airport which, given our position, in my judgement, was
not a threat or concern. I prefer to hand-fly visual approaches,
and by manipulating the controls manually, I guarantee a tighter
turn than one made with the autopilot, ensuring a shallow
intercept onto final. I also do this as a preventative measure
against overshooting, or straying onto a parallel runway area.
The gear was selected down with the final stage of flap to go,
and the landing checklist to be completed. This is always a
busy time. The captain, focused on the navigation display,
muttered something about the geometry of the turn and not
going to intercept final correctly. I was now halfway through
the base turn with the runway in sight. Everything looked as
it should. The vertical deviation indicator showed the profile
was good and I was happy to continue, seeing no need to
modify anything.
I noticed the captain becoming uncomfortable, even agitated.
Suddenly, forcefully, and without warning, he took control of
the thrust levers and control stick, saying ‘I have control’.
Immediately, I changed to pilot-monitoring duties, and
acknowledged: ‘you have control as per our SOPs’.
I didn’t know the reason for his decision, but at this stage of
the approach there was no discussion. From my situational
awareness everything was within limits and normal, nothing
had been breached. It had not occurred to me before, so I asked
myself ‘was there something missed, or some information the
captain knew which I didn’t, or hadn’t recognised?’ I had to
be open-minded. We all make mistakes, but judging by the
captain’s action, this was no small error.
The captain took control and stopped the base turn. I did not
understand why, but I did know that unless he corrected the new
flight path he had established, it would be an unstable approach.
An incursion of the adjacent runway’s airspace would quickly
follow, and if allowed to continue, an infringement of military
restricted airspace. And this would happen in seconds. I was
not thrilled about control being taken away, without knowing
why. The captain began manoeuvring towards the next runway.
Only a second had passed since handing over control, and I
noticed him focusing on the military runway, two runways away
from ours, and adjusting track to land there. From our current
position it would be difficult to achieve at best, even though the
military runway seemed closer to us. It is located further north
than the two civil runways, but from our position northeast
of the airport, its lighter-coloured tarmac made it appear
more obvious.
I was astonished as the situation unfolded. My next thought was
to take over from the captain, as per our procedures and crew
resource management (CRM) principles. But would that be the
best fix, considering where we were on the approach as well as
our cultural differences? What if he didn’t surrender control?
I knew clearly what had to be done in a very short time frame
to make this a successful approach, but that window was
closing fast.
This captain and first officer were thinking two very different
things. One of us was right, the other was wrong. Unfortunately,
the one who was wrong had assumed command of the controls,
but he did not know he was wrong, making it a dangerous
situation. It was now up to me to prove his error—and quickly.
His situational awareness was compromised when he
tried matching the picture he had developed from the
navigation display with the one he could see through
the window.
He believed he was making a bad situation better. In fact, he was
doing the opposite: turning a normal, within-limits manoeuvre
into something unsafe.