The Incredible Story of a British Airways Pilot Who Survived Being Ejected from a Plane for 20 Minutes

The Incredible Story of a British Airways Pilot Who Survived Being Ejected from a Plane for 20 Minutes

On the morning of June 10, 1990, what should have been a routine flight became one of the most extraordinary and harrowing aviation stories ever recorded — not because of tragedy, but because of survival, quick thinking, and an almost unimaginable twist of fate.

A Normal Departure

British Airways Flight 5390 was scheduled to depart from Birmingham Airport in England, bound for Málaga in southern Spain. The aircraft was a British Aircraft Corporation BAC 1‑11 — a short‑haul jetliner widely used in the 1970s and 1980s. On board were 81 passengers and six crew members, including the captain, Timothy “Tim” Lancaster, an experienced pilot in his early 40s.

The morning was clear, and the flight left on time. Passengers settled in for what they expected to be an ordinary, uneventful journey to sunnier climes. The crew carried out standard checks, the engines hummed steadily, and after taxiing to the runway, Flight 5390 climbed into the sky.

For the first few minutes, all was normal. But at about 8:33 a.m., just 13 minutes into the flight, something catastrophic occurred — something so sudden that at first, no one could quite grasp what had gone wrong.

The Unthinkable: Explosive Decompression

At cruising altitude — roughly 17,000 feet (about 5,200 meters) — the aircraft experienced an instantaneous and severe event: the cockpit windscreen panel on the pilot’s side detached from the aircraft. The flat piece of reinforced glass separating the cockpit from the raging wind and cold sky simply vanished.

No one aboard had any warning. There was no warning light, no gradual loss of pressure — just a sudden, explosive decompression. In an instant, the pressure inside the cockpit equalized violently with the outside air, ripping airflow through the opening with brutal force.

And that airflow was strong enough to do something almost unimaginable.

A Pilot Sucked Out

Captain Tim Lancaster was unbuckling his seatbelt and preparing paperwork when the windscreen panel blew outward. The cabin instantly filled with a roaring wind, clouds of mist and debris, and — horrifyingly — Lancaster himself. The force of the airflow pulled him forward as if he had been yanked by an invisible chain, dragging him out of the cockpit and into the open sky.

In the chaos that struck in a split second:

Lancaster’s upper body was pulled completely out of the aircraft — exposed to freezing winds and panic‑inducing conditions.

Only his legs remained trapped inside the cockpit, caught on the flight controls and tangled with his seatbelt.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch. The aircraft maintained forward momentum at hundreds of miles per hour. Lancaster’s torso and head were outside, pinned against the fuselage by the wind. His colleagues, who were just seconds earlier preparing for a normal cruise, were staring at a living nightmare.

A scene like this is the stuff of fiction — but this was painfully real.

Immediate Chaos in the Cockpit

The sudden depressurization had violent effects beyond just sucking out the captain:

Instruments and papers were blown around the cockpit.

The flight deck door crashed inward, further disrupting control access.

The aircraft plunged into a descent as the autopilot disengaged — the controls had been jarred, and Lancaster’s legs remaining tangled had moved them.

Yet, amidst the chaos, one person reacted instantly.

Nigel Ogden: Hero of the Hour

Nigel Ogden, a flight attendant who had just arrived at the cockpit, witnessed a scene he could never have imagined. One moment he was fulfilling his duties; the next, the flight deck was a maelstrom, the wind howling, the captain’s body half out the window.

Without hesitation, Ogden leapt forward and grabbed Lancaster’s legs — or waist, depending on varying accounts — in an attempt to prevent him from being completely ripped from the aircraft.

His grip was the first and most crucial line of defense. He held onto the captain, anchoring him against the g‑forces that threatened to tear him away completely. Ogden’s actions were instinctive, heroic, and physically punishing — the wind was ferocious, the temperature well below freezing, and the force on his arms was immense.

But Ogden was not alone. Other crew members rushed to help:

Simon Rogers, another flight attendant, made his way into the cockpit to assist Ogden in holding Lancaster’s legs.

Together, they clung on for what would become an unimaginable 20 minutes — the period it took the co‑pilot to stabilize the aircraft and get it safely on the ground.

Co‑Pilot Under Pressure: Alistair Atchison Takes Control

With the captain immobilized outside the plane and the controls pulled by his trapped legs, the co‑pilot, Alistair Atchison, suddenly found himself thrust into command under the most extreme circumstances.

Atchison’s responses had to be measured and swift:

Don the oxygen mask — necessary at altitude after decompression.

Regain control of the aircraft, despite the distorted aerodynamics and disrupted instruments.

Descend to a breathable altitude without losing control.

Organize an emergency landing — all while the aircraft was effectively a damaged, partially pressurized vessel and with half a man flapping in the slipstream.

Atchison somehow managed it. The aircraft was diverted to Southampton Airport, about 70 miles away — the nearest suitable landing field.

Throughout the entire descent — a terrifying 20‑minute ordeal — Ogden and Rogers continued to hold on to Lancaster’s ankles, resisting the force that threatened to pull him completely out of the aircraft. Passengers watched in stunned silence, likely in shock at the scene unfolding just feet ahead of them.

The Physical Nightmare Outside

To understand the horror of Lancaster’s position:

The temperature at 17,000 feet can easily be below freezing, even on a clear day.

At typical cruising speed, wind chill and forceful airflow multiply the harshness of the elements.

His torso and head were exposed to an environment that would kill most humans within minutes.

Yet he endured. Remarkably, he remained conscious for much of the ordeal. In later interviews — including in the documentary series Mayday: Air Disaster — Lancaster recalled that what struck him most was not fear but something far more basic: difficulty breathing, because he was facing directly into the wind.

In another interview, he described trying to twist his torso so that he could breathe more easily, then losing consciousness at some point as the ordeal wore on.

Emergency Landing at Southampton

The descent to Southampton was steady but tense. Atchison performed brilliantly, aligning the damaged aircraft with the runway and bringing it down safely. On the tarmac, emergency crews rushed forward.

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