A Lesson on Being the Pilot In Command
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The Authority of the PIC
The author standing next to a Boeing 767-300 that he flew for United Airlines.
Even though the incident in this story occurred while flying a Boeing 757 simulator, the venue for the lessons offered is the same as if they had occurred in a real airplane. Also, what is presented in the story below is valid for all pilots, regardless of what they fly. Whether you fly a single engine Cessna or Piper, or a Boeing airliner, the responsibility in being the Pilot in Command is the same. In an emergency situation, regardless of what you are flying, you are the final authority in how that emergency is dealt with.
In the example below, the emergency I had to deal with was a cargo compartment fire. If you are flying a Cessna or Piper, simply substitute an alternator failure in IMC or VFR at night, being critically low on fuel, or having encountered unanticipated icing conditions where an immediate landing must be made. And this is where your PIC authority comes into play. In that capacity, you tell ATC what you need to do to avoid a disaster, not request a clearance to do it. But to do this, you must first declare an emergency by saying May Day! May Day! May Day!
In addition, the PIC of any airplane should be flexible in his or her decision making and recognize those rare situations where obeying the FARs, the AIM, POH limitations, or other norms of flight may result in an unsafe situation. That will require the use of one’s PIC authority to do what results in a safe outcome, regardless of the regulations.
The golden rule for all PICs is to never put your life in danger during an unusual or emergency situation while trying to stay legal.
What the FARs Say
As stated in FAR 91.3(a), “The pilot in command of an aircraft is directly responsible for, and is the final authority as to the operation of that aircraft.”
And FAR 91.3(b) states, “In an in-flight emergency requiring immediate action, the pilot in command may deviate from any rule of this part to the extent required to meet that emergency.”
The story below simply puts all of this into real world practice.
A Lesson on Being the Pilot In Command
While dire emergencies aloft are exceedingly rare, pilots must remain flexible in their decision making process should one occur. In this story is an example of using one’s Pilot in Command authority of an airplane, regardless of its size, during a dire and life threatening emergency.
Many years ago, I found myself in an emergency situation aloft that required some tough Pilot in Command decision making, as well as cockpit leadership. In this story, I will share my experience so that others can benefit from what happened.
It occurred on my very last recurrent simulator Proficiency Check at United Airlines prior to my retirement at age 65 in 2015. At United, our recurrent PCs consisted of 3 days of simulator training. Day one is a review and practice of maneuvers and emergencies. Day two is the check ride where you must demonstrate proficiency in such things as an engine failure at V1, single engine approaches and go arounds, wind shear encounters, and more.
On day 3 we would fly a LOFT, which stands for Line Oriented Flight Training. The LOFT is a flight in real time in the simulator from one airport to another, just as if we were on a scheduled passenger flight. At United, flying the simulator was as serious as flying a real airplane, and pilots were expected to treat it as such.
On the day three LOFT, I was flying a Boeing 757 simulator as captain on a flight from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport to New York’s LaGuardia Airport. We pushed back from the gate at O’Hare, started the engines, taxied out, and took off. However, as we were climbing through about 28,000 feet on our way up to FL370, and some 80 miles west of Cleveland, the forward cargo compartment fire warning light illuminated.
We accomplished the cargo fire checklist which required us to activate both cargo compartment fire extinguishers. This we did, but the fire light stayed on. Then, one of the “flight attendants,” as in the sim instructor, called on the interphone to tell us that she smelled smoke in the cabin. This confirmed that our airplane was indeed on fire.
An inflight cargo compartment fire that cannot be extinguished is a dire and life-threatening emergency since the fire might spread to the cabin or cause structural failure.
When I realized we had a fire that could not be extinguished, my decision making was based on the crash of a ValueJet DC-9 in 1996. A forward cargo compartment fire led to structural failure that caused the airplane to dive into the Everglades. I also thought about Swissair MD-11. On September 2, 1998, an electrical fire developed in the cockpit overhead circuit breaker panel.
The big MD-11 was on a flight from New York’s JFK airport to Geneva, Switzerland. Since they had just taken off, the MD-11 was well above the maximum landing weight as stated in the Airplane Flight Manual. Rather than landing at the Nova Scotia airport 30 nm away, the captain elected to dump fuel down to landing weight with his airplane on fire rather than make an immediate overweight landing. While dumping fuel, the fire caused structural failure and the big MD-11 dove into the Atlantic Ocean taking the lives of 229 passengers and crew.
With these two accidents in mind, we immediately declared an emergency with the Cleveland Center controller and diverted to Cleveland.
Even though the ATIS said the ILS for RWY 24R was in use, we told, did not ask, ATC that we were going to fly the ILS for RWY 6L as it would be almost a straight in from our position to the west of the airport. We then requested vectors from Cleveland Approach to intercept the localizer for RWY 6L.
With our forward cargo compartment fire, we needed to land without delay. Landing downwind would accomplish that goal and avoid flying the extra 10 minutes past the airport to land to the west on the active runway. The weather at Cleveland was a ceiling of 200 feet overcast with ½ mile visibility in fog and rain, with the wind out of the west at 7 knots.
As cited in FAR 91.3(b) above, the declaration of an emergency allows the PIC to deviate from the FARs as needed to mitigate the emergency, including instrument approach minimums if necessary. Knowing this, I briefed my first officer that there would be no going around, and that we would descend until we saw the runway regardless of the weather or the Decision Altitude printed on the approach chart. I hand flew the ILS approach to 6L and broke out precisely at 200 feet, the minimums published on the chart. After stopping the airplane on the runway, we conducted an “evacuation,” and that was that.
In the debriefing, I suggested to the simulator instructor that in the future, he should set the ceiling at 100 feet instead of 200 feet. This would reveal how many of our captains would initiate a go around with their airplane on fire when the runway was not in sight at the decision altitude. He was in shock at my suggestion, and literally could not speak for a few seconds. He had never heard of such a thing! Then, with a quivering voice, he said that United did not want to encourage their pilots to bust minimums.
I told him that in a declared emergency, there is no such thing as minimums. I also told him that it would be a great opportunity to teach our pilots how to think out of the box as needed in an emergency. I then added that any pilot who initiated a go around with his or her airplane on fire should be counseled that there are times when rigid adherence to the FARs in a life or death scenario might be the wrong thing to do.
When we left the briefing room, I could tell that my instructor was not impressed. He truly thought that I was some kind of wild, undisciplined, irresponsible, minimums-busting captain.
What Pilots Should Learn from this Story
In every day flying, all pilots simply must obey the FARs, AIM procedures, and SOP. However, we must also be prepared mentally to innovate during an emergency, or when doing the right and legal thing would lead us into an unsafe situation, with the Swissair crash being a prime example. This includes refusing to accept an ATC clearance when compliance would compromise safety. Many pilots, especially those who fly in General Aviation, do not know they can refuse to accept an ATC clearance, but only if that clearance will compromise safety.
While regimentation is a good thing, if an unusual situation or dire emergency should occur, the Pilot in Command must be willing to take any action necessary to save his or her airplane from a disaster, or to prevent an unsafe situation from developing.
His professional credentials include 5 years as captain, training officer, and chief pilot for a commuter airline where he flew the DC-3, Beech 18, and Beech 99 in scheduled passenger operations, and 6 years as Director of Training for both FlightSafety International and Simuflite’s King Air Division. In addition, Joel flew the King Air 200 as a corporate pilot for 2 years in the DFW area.
Turpin was subsequently hired by United Airlines in 1986 where he flew the Boeing 727, 737, 757 and 767 in both domestic and international operations including 100 oceanic crossings, and several equator crossings. Turpin retired in 2015 at age 65 and currently has some 30,000 hours in his log book.
He is currently employed as captain and chief pilot flying the Pilatus PC-12NG for a company in Pennsylvania. Joel has been a current and active flight instructor since 1970 and teaches instrument flying in a variety of single engine airplanes. Turpin also writes technical articles and conducts seminars for general aviation pilots with an emphasis on instrument flying and airplane systems. In addition, Turpin also writes flying stories based on his personal experiences as a pilot.
In 2016, Joel Turpin earned the FAA Wright Brothers Master Pilot Award for 50 years of flying accident and violation free, and for his contribution to aviation safety for all those years. His professional qualifications include:Airline Transport Pilot License, Certified Flight Instructor with Instrument and Multi-engine ratings, Turbojet Flight Engineer, Advanced Ground Instructor, Type Ratings in the DC-3, B-737, B757 and B-767, and the FAA’s Wright Brothers Master Pilot Award.
He currently lives in Punta Gorda, Florida with his wife, who is a United Airlines flight attendant. While Joel has had an amazing career in aviation spanning over six decades, he still considers himself to be just a general aviation pilot who got lucky.
- A Lesson on Being the Pilot In Command - June 5, 2026
- All I’ve Gotta Do Is… - March 13, 2026
- Breaking the Chain: Recognizing the Links Before Disaster - January 14, 2026
Really an awesome story and great knowledge for anyone reading this! Also I love the fact best of all challenging the pilots knowledge and giving him or her an opportunity to think what you would do by lowering those minimums was a great idea! Great article!
Great story Joel! I remember that sim profile as I was a Captain on the 737 at the time, very shortly after went to the 756 and stayed on it to retirement in 2021. Your post flight suggestion was a good and valid one and I surmise there would have been a few of our colleagues who would have bit at the “missed” versus taking the jet past the minimums. With all the early upgrades and loss of experience out the door since COVID I would venture to guess those numbers would be even higher. Training department is incredible and I have dozens of great former FO’s who are now Captains and some are Check Airman. My job now is to sit down in the back, shut up, keep my feet off the furniture, and don’t harass the help!
A long time ago, flying a contact check ride in a T-33 at Eielson AFB, AK, for my final landing the flight examiner requested a short field landing. The tower told me to hold for a departing RC-135 who then taxied out without releasing the parking brake resulting in blown tires. “Muff 91, the runway is closed, state your intentions.” By this time being too low on fuel to safely divert to Fairbanks, I told the tower that I would land opposite direction.
The tower asked me to orbit while the RC-135 evacuated and I watched while 20-some crew members climbed out and ran. I then landed opposite direction on the 13,500 foot runway and cleared at the first taxiway.
Captain Turpin began flying at about the same time as I departed the US Air Force to enter the airline industry. I regret our paths never crossed. His account certainly brings fond memories of the proficiency checks. I was for forty years operating Boeing airplanes beginning with the B-52’s and terminating with twenty years on the B-747’s. Yes, there are some philosophical issues between simulator instructors and reality as perceived by either side. On my own final proficiency check wherein the examinee for the final maneuver performs, in the case of a four-engined aircraft, both engines on the same side “inoperative”, approach and landing in VMC conditions. Somehow I just “knew” my check evaluator was going to do it and, sure enough, I was left with one outboard engine on the downwind leg of the traffic pattern. Completed successfully and a gratifying completion to my career. As to the consequences of my having failed this maneuver, that will forever remain an item for speculation. What this all boils down to is the fact that sometimes you just have to do whatever you must do.
I had a similar experience. Climbing out of Oklahoma City (KOKC) in IMC, the plan was to climb through 5,000 feet of clouds and cruise on top. Halfway through, I started getting an alarm as the bus voltage was dropping. I declared an emergency just moments before losing all electrical power. Using only an iPad, my wife (and co-pilot) gave me vectors (shouting, since the intercom was out) back to the initial approach fix for the runway we had just departed. Once established, I thought perhaps I could regain power if I shut off all non-essential load. Accordingly, I shut off all lights and slowly the bus voltage came back. I radioed the tower and told them my intentions. They responded, “Do what you need to do, we shut down the airport when you declared the emergency.” I picked up the ATIS which was now reporting 100 feet and 1/4-mile visibility but it’s not like I had a choice. I broke out as I crossed the numbers and made a nice landing. By the time I shut down and got into the FBO, a gentleman met me and asked if I was the pilot who just landed. I said I was. He said, “I’m the controller who was working you. Nice job sir!” In an emergency, you do what you need to do.
Turns out it was a shorted battery cell. The alternator had enough power to supply the load but couldn’t supply the load AND bring the voltage back up to compensate for the shorted cell.
Good story too.
Joel, Nice story with a big chunk of wisdom for all PIC’s.
I was a sim check airman in the 757 and had two First Officers for their LOFT session. As you know, there is sometimes a void in who takes charge in decision-making during those sessions without a line captain in the seat. We agreed that the pilot in the left seat would be the de-facto captain.
Similar scenario to yours; Houston (IAH) to LAX with an uncontained cargo fire. The fire occurred between Houston and San Antonio. The crew elected to return to Houston, flew the airplane, ran the checklist and were hauling butt back to IAH for a straight-in ILS.
In the training the previous day, we had practiced maintaining high speed-and yes we flew close to Vmo below 10,000 feet. These two fellows were flying a textbook emergency.
As they approached the briefed deceleration point, I moved forward in my instructor station to watch them slow and configure; they were pushing the envelope so as to make a timely arrival on the first pass!
The monitoring FO suddenly spoke up, “Crap, we forgot to notify dispatch that we were diverting- we need to call them!” I saw the left -seater visibly cringe. My own duties on this session were that of ATC, flight attendants, dispatcher as well as anyone else the crew elected to talk to.The scenario also had me as an additional crew member or jump-seater who was a qualified 757 pilot. That was to offer a possible resource during abnormals and emergencies.
I glanced over at the left-seater and could see sweat break out on his forehead and his mind racing with this last minute discovery. As a conscientious jump-seater with my own safety on the line, I volunteered, “How about we don’t and say we did?” I saw the right-seater immediately come back to the present moment and the weight of the world lifted from the left-seater’s shoulders. Within about 15 seconds they began their decel profile that worked out as planned. The airplane was planted on the runway, stopped, checklist ran and airplane evacuated.
While giving the crew high marks for their handing of the airplane, we did debrief extensively that one item that could have changed the course of that emergency. I opened with, “So how do you guys think the flight went?” The FO who was the monitoring right seater spoke right up, “I don’t know why that seemed so important at the time.” We certainly discussed the Value Jet DC-9, The Swissair MD-11 as well as the FedEx DC-10 at Stewart, NY. Nothing would be as tragic as a go-around while you are on fire.
By the way, Joel, a pilot friend of mine had the same scenario as you and was given an UNSAT for not flying a stabilized approach as the poster in the briefing room reminded us all. The pilot flew a decelerating arrival that got the airplane on the ground without delay and without barbecuing the passengers. Perhaps was the same check airman?
My friend took a recheck with a different check airman. Same scenario and flown the same way. The second check airman said it was flown the right way and said it was one of the best he’s seen. Go figure!
Thanks again for the article.
I retired from Coast Guard Aviation in 1994 after accumulating 7,000+ hours in heavy helicopters, jets, and C-130 transport aircraft. I can only say “amen” to Joel’s rationale. I flew a Sikorsky HH-3F helicopter on a night rescue mission from Kodiak, Alaska, to Cold Bay, Alaska in 1977. The weather enroute south of the Aleutian island chain was ugly…low ceilings and mind-bending moderate turbulence. We typically flew at 200 feet AGL over the ocean to avoid airframe icing. The flight was expected to last 5 hours. We had 6 hours of fuel to dry tanks. After several hours, our eyes were totally fatigued by the turbulence shaking the instrument panel. I asked our pathfinder C-130 where he broke out on top during climb out. When he said 5,000 feet, i told my co-pilot, “As soon as we find a hole in the clouds, I’m going up!” We soon requested an IFR clearance from ATC and leveled off at 6,000 feet, gaining us several hours of relative comfort despite a greater headwind component. Contacting Cold Bay Flight Service Station, we learned that the airport weather conditions were “ceiling indefinite, sky obscured, visibility 1/4 mile in blowing snow. The prevailing wind was out of the northwest at 50 knots, favoring runway 32, but the instrument approach was a localizer only. I knew our only chance of getting safely on the ground was by shooting the ILS downwind to runway 14. We were in a low fuel state due to the adverse weather with about 20 minutes to dry tanks. I briefed the approach. We flew upwind over the initial approach fix and added several extra minutes for the procedure turn, intercepting the localizer and glideslope with a 700 foot per minute rate of descent, maintaining 50 knots indicated airspeed…but having a groundspeed of 120 knots. I told the co-pilot, “Both fuel low lights are on. We will not go around if the runway is not in sight at ILS minimums of 200′ AGL. I will remain on instruments. Talk me down on the radar altimeter.” At 200′ the runway environment was not in sight. I kept the aircraft aligned on the localizer as he called out “150…100…50….30….20.” I began to see lights flashing through my chin window and they turned out to be the runway edge lights. I eased the collective down because we were landing far in excess of the maximum landing gear speed. After touchdown, we crept along in slow taxi and asked the Flight Service Station folks to light up the crosswind runway lights so we could identify the ramp area. It was truly “WOXOS.” We spoke to the nearby distressed fishing vessel on the FSS high frequency radio and told the captain we were refueling. I told him we could take off and hoist him and his crew off the boat, but our chances of repeating the approach and landing were 50-50 at best. Encouraged that we were close at hand, he told me he could hold his own until a Coast Guard cutter arrived at first light and towed him from danger.
Nice story. Reminds me of one of my simulator checks in the 757. Long story short, I flew an autopilot coupled CAT III approach to landing. The kicker – I was single-engine. No, that is not something the 757 is supposed to do, but much like many of the stories above, no other choice. The instructor noted that he had never seen someone do that.