Expletives, lots of expletives. That's what you'll find peppered throughout most cockpit voice recorder (CVR) transcripts from air carrier accidents. Sometimes it seems the only space between the expletives is frozen silence.
Our ancient limbic brain is programmed to freeze our body (and cognitive mind) during times of danger to protect us from being detected by predators. Unfortunately, this "deer in the headlights" response is exactly the opposite of what is needed in times of emergency on the flight deck. The "limbic freeze" response (which precedes the familiar flight or fight responses) hijacks our thinking brain and causes us to lock up and refrain from taking immediate action in response to an emergency. In aviation this is often referred to as the "startle factor." Examples of this can be seen from low altitude engine failure accidents in single engine airplanes shortly after takeoff. The average human pauses for more than five seconds (sometimes much longer) before responding to the situation, establishing a glide and selecting a suitable landing spot if one is available. Initial mental reactions tend to be limited and any thinking happening is probably along the lines of, "This can't be happening." That inner resistance to circumstances which already exist has proven to be quite fatal in airplanes. So what can we do to avoid this? There are plenty of things we can do.
All pilots receive emergency procedures training on various emergency situations throughout their training. Procedures are learned and practiced repeatedly for emergencies such as engine failure, engine fire, partial panel flying for instrument students, and many others. That is a good start, however, there is an extraordinary amount of room for improvement in emergency procedures training for general aviation pilots. Many pilots learn procedures that are designed to save their life but are unable to access those skills during a real-life event. That does the pilot exactly no good, and the pilot would've been just as well off having not received any emergency procedures training in the first place. I'm disappointed when I read accident reports where the pilot or flight crew threw all learned, rehearsed, trained, and practiced procedures to the wind when things got serious because they did not possess the mental ability to override the powerful limbic response of the brain. They probably never realized how different and scary it would feel when it actually happened in the real world. That's something we don't train for in today's system. Learning procedures to be used in an emergency is only half the battle, learning to overcome or manage the intense physiological response during a real emergency is the other (and just as critical) half.
I advise you to use the power of your imagination and do some armchair flying. Make up scary situations and imagine what you would do. Think about how terrified you'd probably be and how you'd handle those feelings. What would you do? What would you think? Be honest about your fear and prepare yourself for ways you'd calm or suppress that fear when you think you hear your angels singing. This is the best method of physiological stress training we currently have for pilots. Some airlines are beginning to use simulators that more accurately simulate the loud bangs and rattles of compressor stalls or bird strikes, and that's a tremendous step in the right direction.
I recently read a CVR transcript from a regional jet that crashed during a repositioning flight in central Missouri. Luckily, only two pilots were aboard. The crew experienced a failure of both engines at high altitude allowing for a considerable amount of time from the onset of the emergency until impact with a house. I was surprised to see just how poorly the emergency was handled by the crew. Virtually no crew resource management (CRM) techniques were used, the cockpit seemed chaotic and disorderly, and the crew even lied to air traffic control about their situation which prevented them from receiving an early vector toward a nearby airport where they may've been able to glide. This crew clearly threw all procedures and emergency tactics out the window which resulted in a fatal crash and what easily could've been loss of life on the ground. It's a shame that the simulator sessions and hours these pilots spent practicing for emergencies like this one were ignored during the one and only time they would be needed. The reason pilots train for emergencies is so that we'll be able to employ those skills during an emergency to keep us alive, so if you don't use these procedures during an emergency, when would you ever use them?
We've got to keep our brains thinking clearly and usefully during times of great fear and stress. That's the only way to survive up there when things go wrong. All pilots have heard the phrase, "Fly the airplane." No matter what happens, fly the airplane. This is a tactic for managing physiological response to danger. It's a good start, but we need to be training pilots to a much greater extent on this topic. Pilots need to know to expect a freeze, a dried out throat and sweaty palms with that primitive part of the brain shouting "Stop!" We have to able to calmly and assertively say "go" with our thinking brain, take several deep breaths, clear our mind of unhelpful fear and focus on what needs to be done to preserve life. Hopefully, someday physiological response training will be a mandatory pre-solo training topic for new students.
Flying requires humans to override ancient physiological responses of the limbic brain in order to manage emergencies. This is just one example of how transcendental flying really is. Once these skills are learned they can be transferred to other life situations. And when a sticky situation presents itself, you'll probably find that you need to use fewer expletives, too.
