I grew up in a house inside an army base a few kilometers away from the airport. As a little boy I would practically feel sleepy with the sound of an airplane passing over. It always sounded so sweet to me. I have always wondered what it would feel like being in the cockpit of the airplane. When I got into elementary level, when asked what I would like to be when I grow up I always responded that I am going to be a pilot.
Years went by and I became an undisciplined happy go lucky out of school youth good for nothing person. Joining bands for the heck of it and getting as much girls as I can. Again for the heck of it. It was such a waste. Life was always such a party.
One day it dawned on me that I have no future. Nothing to live for. Somehow I felt lost. A sister offered me the greatest gift a guy could ever have. Education. I told her that I would like to become a pilot. She said she would shoulder the cost. Next thing you know I was seated in a cockpit of a Cessna 150. A two seat trainer aircraft.
The first time I thought "what the hell am I getting into? Why do I want to get into this cramped space to be in the mercy of the air". The plane was so small and both me and my instructor were large people. I remember being frightened the first time I heard and felt the roar of an airplane. I was frightened and excited during the first three hours of my lesson. But as the lessons progressed I got more and more confident and proficient. I remember my instructor telling me on my seventh hour that if it wasn't illegal, he would release me for my first solo (The legal time is eight hours). After that flight he told me to prepare for solo next flight.
Then finally ...first solo. I was supported by my father and youngest brother for this wonderful day. Needless to say the moment my instructor stepped out of the airplane and gave me my final instructions was the highlight of the day. I took off, flew around the pattern and landed without a hitch. I even got out of the second exit and taxied directly to the ramp. My father was so proud. After my fifty something of flight time, I took my exams for Private Pilot and passed both exams smoothly. A month later I enrolled for Commercial Pilot Ground Course. However my sister was beginning to fall short of funds. I ended up tagging along flying as co-pilot of my classmates. Flying with them whenever our instructor permitted.
I and some of my classmates ended up joining the air force reserves in the course of our flight lessons. We gained more pilot friends in the process. I continued being active in the air force reserves. I was awarded a few commendations for the medical missions that I participated in and was also commended for a rescue mission that we did in Pangasinan in the northern Philippines after a violent storm that left 75% of the province under water. The air force somehow sustained my dream of becoming a commercial pilot. Then when I could not sustain it anymore, I stopped. When my license expired I was devastated. I had no money to renew it. No job to sustain it. I felt heartbroken. I was forced to be out of the company of these fine gentlemen who became my life long friends. I thought well, it was good until it lasted.
I ended up lost. No direction. No plans. I felt like a bird with clipped wings. In 2003 we lost a friend named Marvin who was flying co-pilot in 2003 over the mountains of Isabela in the Northern Philippines. It was our first taste of death in the realm of aviation. I remember the last time I saw Marvin. He treated me and another pilot friend for dinner. I never thought that it's going to be the last time I'd be talking to him. The next time I saw him, he was in an open casket. His body covered by a white cloth. I learned later on that Marvin was recovered with his face missing his skull. I thought well at least he went while flying. I thought that there was no better death than that.
I got married in 2004 and life suddenly had a meaning again. I had a direction. I had plans. My dreams became alive again. Though I was still grounded, I was happy. At the time I was working at a call center somewhere in Ortigas.
At about the same year, second tragedy struck. My classmate's brother, an underclass in the flying school and a friend named Julex crashed while flying co-pilot as well in a mountainous area in Palawan. An island southwest of the Philippines. I called my classmate while he was getting ready to go with the retrieving party. I wanted to tell him not to go because it will not be good for him to see it but I felt dumbfounded. Janver is a very close friend to whom I owe a lot to. I just told him to be careful. He told me later on that he decided not to go with the retrieving party. It was a good decision. I also ended up looking at an open casket with a body covered by a white cloth.
In 2005 my wife gave birth to my son, Emmanuel Quirsten. Life became a lot more meaningful. I worked harder and aimed higher. Then a week after training, my father was abducted. When my mother called me and told me the news my world shattered. It was a kidnap for ransom group who took him. He was mistaken to be a millionaire. They never knew that they abducted a retired army colonel who was straight and was always proud to say that he will die without his own house and without his own car. I was angry and scared at the same time. There is nothing worst than wanting revenge and not being able to do it because of delicate situations.
I remember counting the hours my father missed in taking his medicines and worst, knowing that my mother just got out of the hospital a few days ago due to high blood pressure I was afraid that she might not be able to take the pressure. But being the brave woman that she was, my mom handled everything well. One of my brothers in law called up his underclass from PMA who was assigned with the Presidential Anti Crime and Emergency Response group for assistance. We were brought to a safe house. On the first night of the abduction, me and my brother who is a police officer slept in our house in Quezon city. Both of us could hardly sleep. We would end up smoking outside the house one at a time or sometimes we would end up smoking at the same time.
It was a fine Sunday morning when Papa was kidnapped. My elder sister handled the negotiations and she handled it bravely. I would never have done the great job that she did. I found myself admiring my elder sister for her courage in taking the abusive words the kidnappers were throwing at her. I was shaking with anger whenever I hear the kidnappers talking to my sister, yelling at her and cursing at her. I always ended up going out of the room so as to avoid the urge of saying something bad which might ruin the negotiations.
And finally on the fifth day, the kidnappers agreed on an amount far too low from what they were asking the first time. My elder sister and I delivered the money. I drove while my sister handled the communication. The kidnappers would call us every ten minutes, sometimes even three or five minutes to tell us where to go. We finally ended up in an isolated place. It was a perfect place for a pick up. No cellphone signal, rough road and no one in sight. I stopped exactly where the kidnappers told us to stop a few seconds before we lost signal.
Two men suddenly appeared from behind the car. One went to my side, the other to my sister's side of the car. I handed the money to the one who approached from my side. He used his shirt to cover his face. the other one on my sister's side was completely exposed. My sister had a good glimpse of his face. The one who took the money from me promised that my father will not be hurt as long as we the army don't try to follow them. I assumed right away that they already know about my father being a retired army officer. Later on Pops told us that the kidnappers learned from information taken from his wallet that most of my siblings are in the service.
At around 6 PM while I was on my way to pick up my wife to take her to our house my brother who is an army officer instructed me to get back asap because we are going to surround the kidnapper's house for fear that they might not release my father. I brought my wife with me to the safe house and she was brought home by my elder sister and youngest brother. We got near the lead kidnapper's house at around 8pm and waited for the car that they often used in their operations to pass. There were about thirty or more of us in that operation and we covered separate places in the area. At around 10 PM, my brother in the police force called me on my cell phone and told us that Papa is already home. We left the place for fear that our presence might alarm the kidnappers and it would be harder to catch them altogether. The best part of that night is when I gave my Pops a hug. It suddenly hit me that I was so close to not expressing my love for him. that night we slept with Pops in the safe house for one last time. The following day we were summoned to Camp Crame for debriefing. We tried our best to live our lives normally after that.
Late 2005, We lost another friend named Mike who crashed while flying with a student. the student survived. According to him they were trying to make the airplane go up. Their continuous descent and attempted recovery started at 800 feet. The student flew twice after that and just disappeared.
In 2006 I decided to renew my Private Pilot's License. With the help of my Flight Instructor, I was back in aviation. Late 2007 I started teaching foreign students at a flying school in Quezon City part time while still working at the call center in Ortigas. In late 2007 we lost one of our Flight Instructors in a mid air collision while landing in Plaridel Airport. He was in about twenty five years old if I am mistaken. He was an only son and I saw how crushed his father was on his burial.
In mid 2008 I resigned from the call center and went full time in aviation. I was back in the company of flyers. There is a certain bond that pilots share that no one can explain. It is a brotherhood that can't be matched anywhere else.
In 2009 while teaching in Isabela, a mountainous area in the northern Philippines, we experienced two days of heavy rain. The first day of the heavy rain was a welcome event because one of chartered aircraft of the school's sister company came in safely from Tuguegarao bearing one of my classmates as a co-pilot. His pilot in command was an old pilot a lot of us look up to because of his experience and his excellent airmanship which i have witnessed on a few occasions. We had a nice drinking session that night and a lot of stories were told. On the following day, we learned that the competition of the sister company continued operating in this adverse condition.
The president of the sister company and father of my friend who owns the school was fuming mad. He was not told that pilot's discretion could alter the flight condition. He got the impression that the air authorities in Tuguegarao was in favor of the other company. We monitored the flight from Tuguegarao to Maconacon. The plane took off at 8:45 AM. Tuguegarao to Maconacon is a 20 to 30 minute flight using the Islander airplane. A ten seat twin engine airplane. At about 10:00 AM my friend's father called up their guy in Maconacon and asked him to check if the airplane arrived. The guy said it's not there. My friend's father, thinking that their contact might have missed seeing the plane because of the heavy downpour asked for a recheck. The contact came back and verified that the airplane did not arrive. My friend's father said that the plane is missing. A few minutes after that, the competition verified and declared the plane missing with seven souls on board.
That night I learned that the co-pilot of the missing plane is a friend and a classmate in the air force reserves. Our class Rambo as we fondly called him. They were found 2 weeks later. The plane wrecked like a tin can. The bodies, unrecognizable. The last time I saw my classmate, King was after our graduation from the air force in 1999. He left his wife and a five year old son. 2 days later I was home. I went back to Isabela more than a week later just in time to hear the news that my classmate's plane was found.
On my second day back I flew safety for a student who was so insubordinate. We were to fly from Cauayan, Isabela to Tuguegarao in Cagayan. The flight is 30 to 45 minutes. The student relied on time to determine that we were in Tuguegarao. I was fuming mad because I kept telling him that we are one town short. I was surprised after he declared on the radio that we are heading back to Cauayan because we were unable to locate the airport. I made sure to put the incident on his student files. The following day I flew with another student who listened intently. We got to Tuguegarao without a hitch. We even met with my classmate Charles and his new Pilot in command when they landed from a flight in the northern most part of the Philippines. Another veteran pilot who use to be a test pilot of Britten Norman.
When we took off it was hazy. I figured with all the usual visible grass burning done by farmers on farmlands it's okay. Then it started to rain. Light at first then it became darker and heavier. The student freaked out and I had to recover from a wind shear that pushed us from 2000 feet to 700 feet. It was the worst and the best struggle of my life. I manipulated the controls till we got back safely to Cauayan for the student was disabled by fear. The crew back in Cauayan thought that I was a goner.We took off from Cagayan at 3:30 and landed at Isabela at 4:45. in this flight I experienced everything I hated. Wind shear, Heavy rain and zero visibility to the point that I could not even see our compass. Even the cover of our instruments fell off that I could not see any of it while falling from the sky at maybe 120 knots or more. It was hair raising but this brought out my confidence and a warning for future flights that i am subject to Mother Natures mercy whenever I fly.
I almost joined the world of the dead on that day. The date was April 16, 2009. I will never forget that day. It was scary but from that incident I gained respect even from old pilots. Then my career was put on hold on November of that same year. No students, no flights. No money to renew my Commercial pilots' license. But the dream is still alive. I will get my License back.
