Every person has a story of where they were and what they were doing on September 11th, 2001. It was a tragic day that we all remember and still reflect on each anniversary. Robert Burton was a pilot flying transatlantic on a Boeing 767 inbound to New York’s JFK International Airport. Here is his story:

Twenty-one years ago today, I was flying a Delta B-767 from Madrid to New York John F. Kennedy Airport.

The flight had three pilots on board, so each of the pilots took about a 3-hour break as we flew west bound.

It was the captain’s turn to take a break, I was a co-pilot and it was my leg meaning I was the pilot flying that day. I used an airplane system that’s kind of like a teletype to find out what the weather was at JFK, to start thinking about which runway I wanted to land on.

JFK Was Closed

The machine said that the weather at JFK that day was “clear and a million” meaning it was a beautiful day with no weather issues, but Kennedy was closed.

It was very odd for a major US airport such as Kennedy to just be closed, so I turned to the other co-pilot who was occupying the captain’s seat at the moment and wondered out loud “What’s going on at Kennedy?”

He responded theorizing that an airplane must have crashed which would have triggered the runways to be closed.

I tuned a radio frequency that all the airplanes flying over the North Atlantic use to communicate with each other and asked if anybody knew what was going on at Kennedy.

A British Airways pilot with a very precise English accent said, “Yeah mate, you need to check the BBC on 11095 upper,” which is a long range radio frequency.

So I tuned that radio up to the BBC to hear the announcer say, very excitedly, words that still send chills up and down my spine…..

“America under attack, World Trade Centers down, Pentagon hit.”

I quickly turned the other co-pilot and said dryly, “Wake the captain up.”

Until that moment, we had heard nothing of the attacks on the American Homeland, our Homeland.

Captain gets to the cockpit sleepy eyed and I told him what we knew, which was almost nothing.

A few moments later, we get a cryptic message from Delta telling us to secure the cockpit, with no explanation why. We came to learn later that they were afraid of more airplanes being hijacked.

We made contact with Gander Center on a short range radio, checked in, and started trying to get in touch with Delta on the same machine I had used to get the initial report of JFK’s closing

Quickly thereafter, a very calm and very professional sounding Canadian controller announces to all the aircraft on the frequency, “Gentlemen, the US authorities have closed all American Air Space. Tell me what you want to do.”

The Captain was an experienced former Navy pilot and knew his options without having to consult the books, but we did want to get in contact with our Delta dispatcher for his thoughts.

I’m not sure of the exact timing, but assuming that the general “Land Now” decision had been made by the FAA and broadcast by Air Traffic Control, I’m sure dispatch was flat out overwhelmed.

We were thinking Gander, or Saint John’s, with some thought about going to Bermuda as we had flown a southern route and Bermuda was closest.

The Captain ruled out Bermuda because it had such limited runways and ramp space. He decided on St John’s as it was closer than Gander.

Dispatch finally got back to stating the obvious that they were overwhelmed and that St John’s was a good divert station.

I started setting up for the approach, putting all thoughts about anything else so that I could concentrate on getting us on the ground safely.

It is a common psychological technique for pilots to put things in their heads away until they have time to think about them.

Pilots have all the same issues anyone else has: marriage, money, and children issues, but we sometimes don’t have the luxury to be able to think about those issues at the present moment. They go into a box not to be unlocked until the present task at hand is complete.

I’m descending fast, speed brakes out, and then we just landed like we had done hundreds of times before. And then enormous relief spread over me that lasted about a millisecond. I thought about my wife and children and wondered what they knew, if they were safe. Then, I thought about my sister and her husband, who worked in one of the towers.

St. Johns Was Filling Up With US-Bound Aircraft

The passenger terminal was full of airplanes that had gotten there before us. We had a long taxi to the freight ramp and ended up the first airplane on the throat of the runway that we had just landed on.

Once the engines were shut down, the Captain got on the PA and told the passengers that we had to divert because of something happening in America. We had so little information and didn’t want anyone to panic.

I called my wife and found out she had gotten my children. Before she got them, all they knew was that dad was in New York flying and that airplanes had crashed there. I’ll have to ask them if they knew early on if Delta was spared that day or if they knew that the airplanes were B-767’s, which I was flying at that time.

I then called to check on my sister and her husband. She told me that Lyman had led a group out of the second tower hit.

Years later, he died of brain cancer possibly caused by his inhalation of all the pollutants from the oil fires Sadam lit off when the Kuwait War was about over. He was a Navy Captain, and I retired an Air Force Colonel.

We had a friendly competition over the years to see who could get promoted first and we both volunteered at various times to deploy to the sandbox in the effort against Sadam, Al Queda, Isis and all the other nastiness in the Gulf.

Over the next ten hours or so, we watched every kind of airplane from every country and airline land at St John’s.

At some point, the airport authorities directed that we all start our engines and taxied closer to each other so that the airport could accommodate more airplanes.

Finally, a short runway was closed, and more airplanes were parked there.

The Canadians had obviously never encountered anything like this, and we were all making it up as we went.

There was a real concern that all the terrorist activities were not over and that bombs were still on airplanes.

The Captain was finally allowed off the airplane to get some information. I went back to talk to the passengers and calm things.

People were craving information. They lucky ones had cell phones to call their loved ones. One couple had a battery-powered short wave radio.

Finally Allowed To Depart

It’s been awhile, but I think it was over twenty-hour hours from takeoff to when we finally off the airplane. The airport authorities decided the best way to get the passengers off the airplane was the total number of passengers aboard. Since we had a fairly light load, we were one of the last airplanes to deplane.

We were transported separately from the passengers. Everyone had to go identify their bags and then wait while the luggage was thoroughly searched.

The people of Newfoundland, or Newfies, were unbelievably kind to us and our passengers. Someone, maybe Delta Air Lines, had found rooms for us at a golf club two hours from St John’s. I remember a large crew cramming into two cabs with all our luggage driving at night to the hotel.

It was six nights before we could leave St John’s. I think we and the whole country went into a depressed state. I remember the film of the towers being played nonstop till someone finally said, “Just turn the damned thing off.”

No one was partying, but when the crew would meet at night, a bottle would show up, and no one would leave until it was all gone.

Robert Burton is a retired Air Force Reserve KC-10 Instructor Pilot. Today, he is a Boeing 737 captain at Delta Air Lines nearing Retirement. Robert will continue to fly as a charter pilot post retirement. He lives in Rock Hill, SC.