The copilot hit the crash alarm and Dennis desperately held on. He glanced out the window and then at his president. He hit his seat-belt release and came out of his seat. Before the Secret Service agent sitting on the jump seat at the rear could move, Dennis spun Turner’s seat around so she was facing rearward, a much safer position. The Secret Service agent was out of his seat and coming forward as Dennis shoved pillows into her lap. The agent threw a silver fire blanket over her and reached for more pillows.
Liz Gordon never stopped talking as her cameraman tracked the helicopter. “The missile exploded above the helicopter…I saw a brief flash of fire and now can only see smoke…It is coming in to land on the park near us and I can see something dark streaming out behind the helicopter…It’s falling fast, way too fast. Oh, my God, the president’s mother and daughter are in the crowd. They have to be seeing this.
“Oh! Oh! The nose of the helicopter is coming up. I think they’re going to make it. No. They’re going way too fast! Oh, no!” She gasped for breath.
“Fuel off!” the pilot yelled. The copilot hit the two main fuel switches on the center console. The pilot pulled on the collective to flare and to stop the rate of descent. But without power to feed in, they weren’t going to make it. As they passed through forty feet, the pilot knew they were going to crash and pulled back on the cyclic-control stick to raise the nose. The helicopter banged down tail-first. The rotors flexed downward from the impact and cut into the tail rotor driveshaft. The aircraft bounced into the air as it yawed to the right and rolled to the left.
Dennis and the Secret Service agent were not strapped in and they shot forward, crashing into the forward bulkhead. The rotor blades dug into the ground and broke off, cartwheeling across the ground and tearing into the scattering crowd. The last thing the pilot did before dying was to hit the battery switch, cutting off all electrical power. Noreen Coker’s seat broke free of its mounts and tumbled forward, smashing into Dennis and the Secret Service agent as the helicopter skidded over the ground on its side. A piece of the transmission shaft pierced the ceramic armor and speared the back of her seat, passing through her body and pinning her to Dennis. A flash of flame engulfed the cabin as the helicopter came to rest.
Liz Gordon was screaming but coherent. “I can see flames. I can see flames. But the main part of the helicopter is intact. A man is running for the helicopter.”
A Secret Service agent standing by for the landing had grabbed a fire extinguisher and was running for the helicopter. He never stopped as flames licked out from under the fuselage. He threw himself into the flames and stuck the horn of the fire extinguisher into the engine compartment. A fog of retardant billowed up and the fire went out. The Secret Service agent rolled away on the grass, his face horribly burned.
Liz Gordon and her cameraman ran for the crash. A policeman rushed up and held his hands up. “It’s going to explode!” They skidded to a halt. A crash wagon slammed to a halt beside the helicopter and two medtechs piled out, carrying a crash ax and a fire extinguisher. They were joined by a fireman and four Secret Service agents. Together, they shoved the fireman up and onto the side of the helicopter. He swung the crash ax at the window and disappeared into the fuselage. A medtech followed him inside. Two Secret Service agents climbed up and within moments, the inert body of the president of the United States was passed into their waiting arms. They passed her down to the other medtech and the two Secret Service agents.
The three men carried her into the crash wagon and it backed away as the helicopter burst into flames. The agents still on the fuselage jumped clear as the medtech and fireman climbed out of the fuselage and ran for cover, their clothes smoking.
The crash wagon slammed to a halt and its rear doors opened. Two more Secret Service agents jumped in and it started to move, heading for safety and the nearest emergency room. Before the doors slammed closed, they heard someone shout, “She’s okay!”
A Secret Service agent ripped off his sunglasses and rubbed the tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered.
Before the crash wagon had gone fifty feet, it stopped. The rear doors opened and Liz Gordon heard the president of the United States shouting.
“Get out of my way!” Madeline Turner climbed out of the crash truck as a flock of Secret Service agents surrounded her. “Back off! Give me room!”
“Madame President,” one of them shouted, “we’ve got to get you to…”
“I don’t give a damn what you have to do! There are injured people out there.” She pushed clear of the cordon and started pointing. “You, establish a perimeter. You! Get Dr. Smithson and find out who needs medical attention.” She pointed to the crash truck. “That’s for the injured, not me. Get me a telephone.” For a moment, no one moved. “Dammit, move! Get the police to clear a lane for emergency vehicles. Are you listening!”
For a moment it was chaos around her. Then there was order. A Secret Service agent handed her a cell phone. “You’re talking to our command post, ma’am.”
She took it. “Connect me to the National Military Command Center and contact the vice president.” She waited. “Please find my mother and daughter and tell them I’m okay,” she said to the nearest Secret Service agent. A voice came on the line. “This is President Turner. I’m alive and well, there is no change of command.” She waited for a moment and then authenticated.
The vice president came on the line. “Sam, I’m okay. Take care of things at your end.” Dr. Smithson, her personal physician scurried up. “Hold on, Sam.” She turned to the doctor. “Check me out. Here. Be quick.”
The doctor placed both hands on her temples and studied her eyes. “Take three deep breaths.” He listened and smelled her breath as she breathed deeply. Her eyes and lungs were clear. “Follow my finger.” He waved a finger in front of her eyes and measured her response. He pressed her ribs. “Any pain?” She shook her head. “I don’t see any bleeding. Do you feel wet or warm under your clothes?” She shook her head. He ran his hands over her arms and shoulders feeling for broken bones. Then he felt her pulse. “You’re in a mild state of shock, but other than that, you seem okay. We need to get you to a hospital for a complete physical.”
“Take care of the injured first,” she ordered. “Sam, you still there? Listen, get hold of Patrick and tell him everything is on hold.”
In the background, Liz Gordon faced the camera. “We have witnessed a miracle here and President Turner is totally unscathed.” Her cameraman panned to the burning pillar of flame reaching into the sky. “All others on board perished in the crash.”
Patrick Flannery Shaw was staring at the TV set and listening to Liz Gordon when the phone rang. He picked it up and listened as the vice president relayed Turner’s message. “Thanks, Sam,” he said, hanging up. He stared at the image of the burning helicopter on his TV. His knees gave out. He sat down and held his head in his big hands, shaking in relief.
Maura closed her eyes and listened to her daughter. Maddy’s voice was calm and measured as she talked to Brian on the telephone. “It happened so fast,” she told him. “It’s really hard to remember. One moment we were all over the sky and the next they’re dragging me out of the helicopter.” Maddy listened for a moment. “No, I’m fine, I really am.”