Orders

Perhaps Flight 29’s pilot had been hijacked, or poisoned, or radicalized. From the cockpit of my F-35A, all I knew was the terrified eyes of the flight attendant now in the pilot’s seat. Did she hear our radio communications? Was she capable of learning how to change direction—or even land—rather than continuing the 777’s trajectory toward downtown San Francisco? We’ll never know, because when I received the command from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I followed it. But what if I'd disobeyed for just a few more seconds? Could she have pulled up? I simply follow commands.