Captain Al Haynes died on August 25, 2019, just a few days shy of his eighty-seventh birthday. I had many opportunities to speak with Captain Al during the thirty years that he lived after the crash of United Airlines Flight 232. On the second anniversary meeting of the passenger and family survivors in Denver, CO, I met Captain Haynes for the first time.
During the summer of 1991, I was contacting passenger survivors of six fatal crashes that occurred during 1987-1989, as part of my dissertation study. UAL Flight 232 fell into the criteria required for inclusion in the study. One of the 232 passenger survivors contacted me and told me about the meeting in Denver. He knew I was interested in meeting survivors and thought my research project would benefit by attending the second anniversary meeting. I recognized the value immediately this two-year anniversary meeting was providing those who attended. I experienced feelings of envy—though I am not proud to admit it. My own experience as a family survivor from the Delta Air Lines Flight 191 crash back in 1985, did not involve any immediate, nor long-term interaction with survivors.
When Captain Haynes addressed the group, I remember being deeply moved by his humility. As he looked around the room at a very large group, he could not contain his emotions. Tears were visible when Captain Al began his talk. He told the group that every time he landed an aircraft, he was carrying 112 invisible people. Referring to the 111 passengers and one crew member who died in the crash. His sincerity and reverence for those who perished as well as the survivors and families left behind, was unquestionable. And as always, Captain Al gave credit to all of the crew members, both front and back, as equally responsible for the high number of survivors that day. When he talked about the accident, as was his style, he praised the emergency responders for their bravery in saving lives in the crash.
When I learned that Al had died a few weeks ago, I looked back in Handbook for Human Services Response[1] and re-read quotes from my interviews with him. Following are his own, personal memories of the crash itself.
The engine blew. I do not remember the vibration, but later the
co-pilot reminded me that the aircraft shook so violently that it was nearly impossible for me to read the instruments to determine that we had lost the number 2 engine. (I asked why the aircraft was porpoising, which passengers described after the engine exploded).
The aircraft loses speed. The nose goes down and up to find speed. Because the aircraft had lost an engine, it continued to porpoise as long as it was in the air which was 45 minutes. I never thought we would crash. I never believed we would lose the airplane. I had some doubts about how we would get to the airport and how we would stop, but I never doubted that we would get there.
(I asked Al which pilot told the tower to keep them away from their city? Al said it was he.) I was remembering crashes where the aircraft went down in populated areas and people on the ground were killed. Crashes like PSA over San Diego where all of the people in the jet were killed and all the people on the small airplane that collided with the jet were killed, and people on the ground died as well. All of my concentration was taken up with what we were doing in the air. I had no idea what the results might be when we got to the ground. A pilot’s biggest fear is loss of an airplane, and that is where all our energy in the cockpit was focused that day.
Although I don’t remember being afraid, I must have had some concerns about the results of the flight that day because I would later learn from the cockpit voice recorder that I had said, “Well mom (talking to my wife) we may not make it to the tournament,”
referring to the little league game, where I was scheduled to assist.
I remember telling them (the passengers) that I wasn’t going to kid them; it was going to be a hard landing. I told them to listen to the announcements and then I wished them good luck.
Dudley made the last announcement. He said, “Brace, brace!” just prior to impact.
We came in a little left. The right-wing dipped down. I remember thinking about whether or not we would make the runway. I heard a whoosh sound. And then I came to in the wreckage. I remember talking to Bill, the co-pilot. I remember parts of our conversation. I remember that Dudley was on top of me. I told him that he needed to lose some weight. We laughed. It was about thirty minutes before the emergency responders found us.
I had a bruised sternum; one of my ears was almost cut off. There were about 92 stitches in my scalp as I had cuts on my head. I had a concussion and began to have dizzy spells immediately, which lasted two to three weeks. My doctors told me to start flying when I felt
like it. I started flying again within about three months.
In the beginning, Al had survivor guilt. He felt initially that somehow, he had been at fault. He had trouble accepting that people had
died in an airplane that he was flying. Talking it out helped him conclude that it was not his fault. After 25 hours of therapy,
Al realized that he and the other pilots had done the best they could.
Al came to accept the randomness of who lived and who died
that day. Following are his comments on this:
I believe in luck. I am not very spiritual. But I know this— something took that airplane to Sioux City and determined the fate of the people onboard— we just helped.
[1] Coarsey, C. V. Handbook for Human Services Response, (2004). 
