[Swiftwater Gazette] Captain Sully Speaks

[Brad Haslett]

Save yourself the expense of buying Newsweek magazine, it's a shitty
magazine anyway.  This is what next week's article about Captain Sully
has to say.

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All I Wanted Was to Talk to My Family, and Get Some Dry Socks
One month ago, I landed Flight 1549 safely in the Hudson River. In
some ways, that was the easy part.

Capt. Chesley B. Sullenberger III
NEWSWEEK

>From the magazine issue dated Feb 23, 2009

The night of the accident, after we'd safely accounted for all 155
people on the airplane, left the hospital, finally reached the
hotel—the pilots' union and the NYPD whisking us away—I remember
thinking that my needs were very simple. I'd lost all my belongings;
I'd had the most harrowing three minutes of my life. All I really
wanted was to talk to my family, and get some dry socks.

It's been a month since the airplane I piloted, US Airways Flight
1549, made an emergency landing in the Hudson River.

Since then, the attention given to me and my crew—I'm trying to
resist, somewhat unsuccessfully, everyone's attempt to make this about
fewer than five people—has obviously been immense. But I still don't
think of myself as a celebrity. It's been a difficult adjustment,
initially because of the "hero" mantle that was pushed in my
direction. I felt for a long time that that wasn't an appropriate
word. As my wife, Lorrie, pointed out on "60 Minutes," a hero is
someone who decides to run into a burning building. This was
different—this was a situation that was thrust upon us. I didn't
choose to do what I did. That was why initially I decided that if
someone offered me the gift of their thankfulness, I should accept it
gratefully—but then not take it on as my own.

As time went by, though, I was better able to put everything in
perspective and realize how this event had touched people's lives, how
ready they were for good news, how much they wanted to feel hopeful
again. Partly it's because this occurred as the U.S. presidency was
changing hands. We've had a worldwide economic downturn, and people
were confused, fearful and just so ready for good news. They wanted to
feel reassured, I think, that all the things we value, all our ideals,
still exist—that they're still there, even if they're not always
evident.

When I was very young, my father impressed upon me that a commander is
responsible for the welfare of everyone in his care. Any commander who
got someone hurt because of lack of foresight or poor judgment had
committed an unforgivable sin. My father was a dentist in the Navy,
serving in Hawaii and San Diego from 1941 to 1945. He never saw
combat, but he knew many who did. In the military, you get drilled
into you the idea that you are responsible for every aspect of
everyone's welfare.

During every minute of the flight, I was confident I could solve the
next problem. My first officer, Jeff Skiles, and I did what airline
pilots do: we followed our training, and our philosophy of life. We
valued every life on that airplane and knew it was our responsibility
to try to save each one, in spite of the sudden and complete failure
of our aircraft. We never gave up. Having a plan enabled us to keep
our hope alive. Perhaps in a similar fashion, people who are in their
own personal crises—a pink slip, a foreclosure—can be reminded that no
matter how dire the circumstance, or how little time you have to deal
with it, further action is always possible. There's always a way out
of even the tightest spot. You can survive.

Even though we had a successful outcome, it's human nature to wonder
about the what-ifs. The second-guessing was much more frequent, and
intense, in the first few days at night, when I couldn't sleep. It was
hard to shut my brain off and get back to sleep. Sometimes I didn't, I
couldn't. It was part of the posttraumatic stress that we have all
felt, that each of the crew members has reported to each other.

It's funny—for the first two weeks after the accident, Jeff kept
telling me, "I just want my old life back." But the other day he
finally said for the first time, "You know, this is OK. I'm learning
to like this. This is good." I think he's coming to terms with what's
happened. He realizes that he's entitled to the attention. That he can
still be true to himself. That accepting it isn't selling out.

Besides the outpouring of support from the passengers, the most
touching sentiments I have received have been from other pilots. They
tell me that because of the years of economic difficulties faced by
the airline industry and its employees and the decreased respect for
the profession, they have not felt proud to go to work—some of them
for decades. Now, they tell me, they do. And they thank me for that.
They thank us, the crew, because we've reminded people what all of us
do every day, what's really at stake. They feel like they've regained
some of the respect they'd lost.

What's next? I will return to flying for my airline—when I'm ready.
I'm not sure when that will be. Probably a few months. I still haven't
had many nights at home. My family and I are trying hard to remain
true to ourselves and not let this change us, but there's a steep
learning curve. The trajectory of our lives has changed forever. And
we're determined to make good come out of this in every way that we
can.

Capt. Sullenberger and his crew saved all 155 lives aboard US Airways
Flight 1549.