Retired air-traffic controller recalls teamwork of Sept. 11

AVON — Set back on East Lorain Street in Oberlin is a building that, during the most pivotal moments on Sept. 11, 2001, found itself front and center in some of the stories that have been solemnly retold since that day. About 6 a.m. on the morning of Sept. 11, air traffic controller Robert Douglas, now retired and living in Avon, entered that building — the Federal Aviation Administration's Cleveland Air Route Traffic Control Center, known also as Cleveland Center — to start working what would quickly become the most remarkable shift of his and his colleagues' careers. Cleveland Center, at that time, was either the first- or second-busiest facility in the United States, Douglas said. Situated between major population centers like Chicago and New York City, he said it would get extremely busy. About 150 staff members at Cleveland Center were a couple hours into the morning rush that day when they were told there had been an attack in New York. It was not long before a "ground stop" order came in from the FAA ordering all planes in the sky to be landed. Douglas remembers having to work as a team with all the controllers on duty to adjust their mission and safely direct all planes to available runways. Looking back, he said there was no sense of panic in the room because of the years of extensive training required to become an air traffic controller. That training took over during the ground stop order. "Normally, you would be concerned about the length of the runway because they have to be able to land and depart. You have to be concerned about all that kind of stuff," Douglas said. "But on that day, we were told to get them down as close to wherever they were." During the process of getting every plane landed, Cleveland Center had two emergencies to deal with, Douglas said. The first was United Airlines Flight 93, which had departed from Newark, New Jersey, en route to San Francisco before terrorists took control of the cockpit and redirected the plane back eastbound. Six air traffic controllers at Cleveland Center handled the radio traffic from the flight. It was Cleveland Center air traffic controllers who heard cockpit transmissions and recordings from the terrorists, replied to the flight and were eventually the first to know it had crashed in Stonycreek Township, Pennsylvania, amid a passenger revolt. Douglas knew the flight had gone down when a nearby pilot, asked by another controller to relay what they observed in the area, reported seeing a large debris field, smoke emanating from the countryside and a gorge. Despite the shock of what had just happened, there was no time for the controllers to slow down. It was similar to a surgeon losing a patient on the operating table, Douglas said. If another patient needed surgery afterward, that same surgeon would have to shake it off and perform the procedure despite the tragedy that just occurred. "It was sad, but we had other planes and we had to keep going," Douglas said. "We had an order to get everybody down, so I said a really fast silent prayer for them." He still remembers the prayer to this day: "Lord, embrace these souls as your own. I pray that you comfort them in this moment." Cleveland Center's other emergency at that time was Delta Air Lines Flight 1989, which took off from Boston and was destined for Los Angeles before it was wrongly thought to be potentially hijacked. The flight fit the same profile as American Airlines Flight 11 and United Airlines Flight 175, which had departed from Boston to Los Angeles and had actually been hijacked. However, Delta Air Lines Flight 1989 safely landed in Cleveland and all passengers were eventually cleared. Adding to the pressure, Douglas said Cleveland Center was ordered to be evacuated during the shift because of a reported threat to the facility. At one point, just eight controllers and one person in the operations center remained in the building, he said. Eventually, however, Douglas remembers things did calm down. The North American Aerospace Defense Command took over the airspace and conducted flight patrols around designated zones looking for planes still in the air that may not be communicating. "At this point, we were making emergency broadcasts. We were saying, 'Attention all aircraft on this frequency, we are in the middle of a national emergency. You need to land at the closest airport,'" he said. "You would just make that broadcast every now and again. … But some people didn't have their radios on." Then, a near disaster began unfolding when a military plane that had departed from Pittsburgh told Cleveland Center that an Airborne Warning and Control System (AWACS) plane over Elkins, West Virginia, had turned off its transponder, Douglas said. He remembered asking other controllers for assistance, and "they helped avert a military plane from shooting down another military plane in the confusion." The pilot who had taken off from Pittsburgh was communicating with Cleveland Center and said he had "orders to shoot people down if they had turned off their transponders," Douglas said. That immediately set off Cleveland Center and Washington Center in Leesburg, Virginia, trying to find the AWACS aircraft. Teams were set up to communicate between the two centers. At the last possible moment, Douglas said a controller from Washington Center found the AWACS pilot and broadcast over the line, "Don't shoot, it's a friendly. Don't shoot, it's a friendly." "And then there was a pause. And in that pause, you just felt total dread," Douglas said. But the pilot came back without having fired upon a friendly aircraft, averting what could have been a total disaster. The next shift came in to relieve the Cleveland Center crew at 1 and 3 p.m., he said. After getting off work that afternoon, Douglas remembers going home, picking his kids up from school and sitting in front of the television as a family watching the news. Soon, he had to try to get some rest and be back at work at 11 p.m. for a midnight shift Reflecting on that day 20 years later, Douglas views Cleveland Center's role as a complete team effort rather than a display of individual heroism by any one controller. "It was 150 people working together as one to achieve the objectives at one of the busiest air traffic control facilities in the world that day," he said. Contact the reporter Dylan Reynolds at (440) 329-7123 or dreynolds@chroniclet.com. Follow him on Twitter @drey1357.