Terror on the Potomac

A longstanding safety streak ends, but ignore the hot takes

The United States has had a long run when it comes to airline safety. The last serious airline crash involving a domestic airliner was in 2009 when Colgan 3407 crashed in Buffalo. To find a domestic jetliner crash, we have to go back to Comair 5191 in Lexington, Kentucky in 2006 or, for a mainline carrier, Southwest 1248 (although some might dispute whether Southwest is a mainline carrier), a runway overrun accident at Chicago-Midway in 2005. Asiana 214, a Korean airline, did crash a Boeing 777 in San Francisco in 2013, the last time a heavy airliner crashed in the US.

That streak broke on Wednesday night when a regional airliner operated by an American Airlines contractor collided with a US Army Blackhawk helicopter near Reagan National Airport in the District of Columbia.

First, a word about airline organization. There are two tiers of airlines. When you buy a ticket on an airline, you may expect to fly a Boeing or Airbus product, but many smaller markets are served by regional jets or turboprops that are operated by companies that contract with the major airlines.

This situation dates back to the 1990s and the advent of regional jets when major airline pilots represented by the Airline Pilots Association negotiated scope clauses that didn’t allow the new jets to be crewed by mainline pilots. RJs, as they came to be known, were operated under contract by less experienced crews and used as a stepping stone to gain experience for the more lucrative mainline jobs. The major airlines farmed out regional flying to the lowest bidder and renegotiated contracts periodically, often whipsawing pilots of competing contractors against each other.

The accident aircraft, a Canadair Regional Jet (CRJ) 700, was operated by PSA Airlines, a wholly owned subsidiary of American Airlines. As such, it’s correct to say that it was PSA Flight 5342 as well as American 5342.

On a personal note, I used to fly a CRJ-700 for Atlantic Southeast Airlines (ASA), a Delta Connection carrier based at Atlanta Hartsfield. The CRJ is a few decades old at this point, but it is a good airplane that is very capable and has an impeccable safety record.

I say all that to say this: The CRJ pilots had years of training and flight experience. They also had federal Airline Transport Licenses, but they did not have nearly as much experience as the crew of an American 737 or Airbus would have. Still, I don’t think that made a difference in this case.

On January 29, the CRJ was on approach to Reagan National (DCA) after departing Wichita, Kansas. At about 8:47 pm, the plane collided with a US Army VH-60 Blackhawk. One of the first things I notice from the video is that it was a clear night. Low ceilings and visibility were not a factor unlike an earlier crash into the Potomac in 1982 when ice on the wings drove Air Florida 90 into the frigid waters after only a few seconds of flight.

The Blackhawk is the Army’s workhorse helicopter that replaced the venerable UH-1 Huey of the Vietnam era. There are a multitude of variants of the Blackhawk including a special operations version and a naval “Seahawk,” but the helicopter involved in the accident was a VH-60 variant assigned to a VIP transport unit, essentially a government “business” helicopter.

The Blackhawk was reportedly on a training flight, leading many to ask why it was flying at 300 feet at night on a training flight. The answer is that the crew wasn’t necessarily a new crew doing primary training, but they were probably training to carry out their mission. Army helo crews fly low and fast because that enhances their chances of survival in a hostile environment. They might also have been using night vision goggles (NVGs).

Video of the accident shows the CRJ approaching the runway with its bright landing lights shining. A smaller light approaches from the left of the video, which would be from the right side of the airplane where the copilot sits. When the two lights converge, there is an explosion.

A replay of the radar tape on Facebook (I’ll caution that the validity of this post is unverified) shows the helicopter crossing between the runway and the approaching CRJ at about 300 feet. The airliner was descending towards the runway and the two craft converged, falling into the river. Below is a representation of the radar data superimposed on a satellite map, also taken from Facebook.

Facebook screenshot

Thanks to modern technology, the ATC recording is also available online. As you listen to the recording, the CRJ is Bluestreak (the PSA callsign) 5342 and the helicopter is Pat 25.

Twice the controller asked the pilot of Pat 25 if he had the CRJ in sight. Twice the helo pilot acknowledged that he had visual separation. The helicopter was instructed to pass behind the CRJ.

The big question in the aftermath of the crash that killed 64 passengers and crew on the CRJ and three crewmembers in the helicopter is why the helicopter failed to see and avoid the jetliner with the big bright landing light.

If the helicopter was to the aircraft’s side, the landing light would not be visible. Unlike car headlights that shine onto the ground in front of the car, landing lights have nothing to illuminate to make them visible to the side, but other aircraft lights should have been visible

As a pilot who flies into congested airspace, I can tell you that it is not uncommon to have helicopters buzzing around near airports. Law enforcement, news organizations, and the military all often operate near airport traffic patterns. It is unusual to have a helicopter cross in front of you on short final, however, but then Pat 25 was not supposed to be in front of the airliner.

Airliners are equipped with safety equipment such as TAWS (terrain avoidance warning system) to warn about proximity to the ground and TCAS (traffic alert and collision avoidance system) to warn about proximity to other aircraft. The problem is that the TCAS is inhibited at low altitude to avoid distracting nuisance alerts around airports. Below 1,000 feet, the crew would not have been alerted.

It’s still early in the investigation process, but it looks as though the cause of the crash will likely be pilot error on the part of the helicopter crew. We may never know why the helicopter flew into the CRJ, but one possibility is that he thought he had the traffic in sight but was looking at the wrong airplane. I do not know whether the Blackhawk had flight data and cockpit voice recorders that would be installed on the airliner.

Washington, DC has some of the busiest and most restricted airspace in the country. Reagan National is located near a number of sensitive sights such as the White House, the Capitol, and the Pentagon. The approaches to DCA are very demanding in terms of both navigation and traffic avoidance.

I have flown into DCA as a pilot, but I probably never will again. After September 11, the airport was heavily restricted to private traffic with onerous approval requirements that include carrying an armed security officer. These days, most business jets go to Dulles. I can tell you that pilots are busy when they fly into DCA, but the view of Foggy Bottom from the cockpit is fantastic.

An additional factor in the crash may be short short-staffing in the Reagan National Tower. Listening to the audio, it is difficult to tell how many controllers are on duty, but some towers often have only one controller at night. At some smaller airports, I have been cleared for the approach, landing, and taxi to the gate by the same controller… at the same time!

The controller on duty Wednesday night sounded busy but competent and professional. Nevertheless, another pair of eyes may have caught the fact that the Blackhawk wasn’t following instructions.

The only real question I have about the controller’s actions is whether he pointed out the helicopter to the CRJ crew. If he did, it wasn’t on the audio that I heard, and the PSA pilots may have been totally unaware of the danger without such a warning. The NTSB accident report may fault the controller for that omission.

What I can tell you with certainty is that the crash does not fit the hot takes by partisans on either side. There is no evidence that DEI had anything to do with the crash as Donald Trump and some Republicans have suggested. Both pilots and controllers are certified to federal standards before they can get their jobs. Controllers also have to get checked out on the specific airspace that they control. Aviation is a merit system, at least to a degree, despite what some talking heads say.

In fact, FAA standards for pilots have gotten higher in recent decades. The 2009 Colgan crash spurred a reform of pilot licensing that increased requirements for Airline Transport Pilot candidates and also reformed airline rest rules.

Beyond FAA standards, airlines do have the ability to set their own minimum standards for pilot experience. These standards fluctuate due to supply and demand rather than DEI. In the mid-2000s, it was difficult for even high-time, experienced pilots to find jobs. In the years prior to the pandemic, the situation was reversed with the airlines hiring as many pilots as they could to replace a wave of retirees. That isn’t to say that minorities might not be hired with lower flight time than a white male, but they still have to be competent and licensed.

The crash also was not due to Donald Trump’s spending freeze or the fact that Trump had not appointed a replacement FAA administrator after the Biden-era administrator resigned effective January 20. While federal agencies do need good leadership, they don’t fall apart in nine days.

In summary, ignore the hot takes (except mine) and let the NTSB work. At the moment, the most likely cause seems to be pilot error by the Blackhawk crew, but that still does not fully explain the accident.

JEJU CRASH UPDATE: You may recall that I speculated that the Jeju crash in South Korea last month was due to a double engine failure. That theory seems more likely after recent reports that bird remains were found in both engines of the 737. That crash is also still under investigation.