No, his plane was not in for service; rather, he is flying the back country of Idaho. “Oh,” Christine remembers Capt. Stokes saying, before hanging up with a promise to call her back later. In her mind, she supplied the “no” to go with it.
On Aug. 20, William Krauch was enjoying one of his favorite pastimes – flying his Cessna 182. Knowing his hobby is perhaps not the safest, he makes the commitment to retrain every summer. On this flight, he is accompanied by an instructor.
Christine, like Bill, takes the calm approach to the emergency situation they find themselves in. With a daughter due to give birth any day, Christine limits her calls to friends and out-of-town family who are willing to sit down and pray with her.
“I knew there was a good chance the plane had gone down,” Christine says. “I also knew that because of where he was flying there was a chance,” she pauses for a brief second, “there was a chance he wouldn’t survive.” What makes the wait even harder is knowing Bill has a satellite phone, but he doesn’t call. Instead, the next call is again from Stokes, with the bad news that the satellite so far is unable to pinpoint the location of her husband’s plane.
“It’s easy to depend on the Lord with all the little things in life,” Christine says. This experience helps her to appreciate the benefits that come with faith. As she prays with a friend over the phone, her friend asks that Christine be lifted from the burden of not knowing her husband’s fate.
Moments after hanging up, the phone rings again. This time, it is Bill. “He was obviously in shock,” Christine says. Although he tries to sound strong, she can hear the wobble in his voice. He admits he is injured, too injured to walk out. The instructor is in a similar condition.
By the long delays in his speech, Christine knows Bill needs medical attention. But she knows Bill is meticulous in his preparations. “Anything that Bill does, he does it really well,” she explains, but getting that help will not be easy. At the time, Idaho is on fire and resources are limited. Christine gets on the phone and starts making calls to everyone she knows, as well as everyone they know. Again and again, she is told things cannot happen, and then they do.
Hundreds of miles apart, and both with the same sense of helplessness, Christine and Bill assess their situation, praying for the best, relying on their faith for strength and hoping that time is on their side. In the moments before the crash, time was not Bill’s ally.
“For the past 12 years, I have enjoyed the challenge of flying back country airstrips – primarily in the Salmon River Basin between McCall and Sun Valley, Idaho,” says Bill. After flying into multiple strips that morning, Bill and his instructor land at Mackay Bar for a late breakfast. The airstrip is located east of Riggins on the Main fork of the Salmon, accessible only by boat or plane. “Mackay is 2,500 feet elevation and we had to climb over an 8,000-foot mountain range to return to McCall,” he says.
The instructor suggests they climb up the Warren River drainage basin instead of a direct climb to 8,000 feet, since it will be shorter. But they miss a turn. Unable to out climb the rising incline, and with no place to safely land, Bill concentrates on keeping the wings of the plane level while he looks around for new growth pines. With trees everywhere, it is the younger ones with their flexible branches that give the best chance for survival.
Carefully avoiding the word “crash,” Bill describes “landing in the treetops of 40 to 50-foot pine trees, ripping off the wing” and coming to rest upside down at a 45-degree angle, nose to the ground.
“We had to bust out a window to exit since the doors were jammed. Once we were out and determined there was no life-threatening damage, we prayed together for the blessing that God had bestowed upon us,” he says.
Their biggest fear is the plane catching fire. It doesn’t. In the background, they hear the sound of the ELT activated by the G-force of the crash – increasing the likelihood they will be found.
“I was worried the Air Force would contact Christine before I could,” which in fact they do, some 15 minutes after the plane hits the trees. It will be nearly an hour before Bill can tend to both of their wounds and garner the strength to climb back in the plane to locate his satellite phone.
By the time Christine receives his call, she already knows they are in a rugged and remote area with the chances of being extracted quickly unlikely. They keep the call short in order to save battery life on the phone. It will be another hour before the Air Force can pinpoint their location and perhaps days before help can arrive.
But within two hours, a life flight helicopter passes overhead. Bill uses his two-way radio to speak to the pilot, who confirms what they already suspect – there is no place within 5 miles to land. With normal resources diverted for firefighting, Bill and his companion have to wait for the McCall Fire Department to hike in to help.
Hike in they do. Taking a moment to compose himself, Bill struggles to find the words to express the depth of his thanks. These men first drive two hours, then ride through the woods on all-terrain vehicles for another hour or so, and then hike through the rugged terrain with heavy equipment on their backs.
As the hours wear on, Bill watches as the morning sun makes its way to an afternoon sky and prepares to set. The two injured men begin preparing to spend the night. Bill’s well-equipped first-aid kit includes two solar sheets to keep them warm.
One can only imagine their relief when the search and rescue team arrives. Bill has a cut on his ankle which will later take 17 stitches to close another gash reaching across the top of his hand from his pinky to his thumb. Later, he undergoes surgery to repair the damage. His instructor has similar injuries.
Not long after the first rescuers arrive, so also does the Black Hawk helicopter, come to pull them to safety. “We were extracted by a winch system while they hovered about 60 feet above ground level,” says Bill. They crashed around 11:30 a.m. but it is nearly 6 p.m. before they reach the landing strip where a life flight helicopter waits.
During those long lingering hours, Christine breaks the news to her son and daughter. Immediately their son arranges to fly to Idaho to assist with his father’s rescue, while Christine stays with her pregnant daughter.
“We were transported to the McCall Hospital, where we spent about three hours being treated for injuries,” says Bill. It is there that he connects with his son, Ryan, and the pair return to the Valley the following afternoon.
Bill’s plane remains where it came to rest hanging between trees. It will not be until the conclusion of fire season that the plane can be helicoptered out. As for the lesson, Bill says with a smile, he left his credit card. They declined to charge him.
“In 50 years of flying, I have hardly had a close call much less an accident. I would not have flown up the drainage area unless I was with an instructor. But mistakes can happen, no matter how cautious we are,” he says.
When asked if he will ever fly again, he pauses. No, he has no fears in that regard. It is really more a question of respect. The long hours were certainly difficult for him, but for his wife and family . . . he pauses again. Perhaps one day he’ll fly again, when his wife is ready.
“I love to ride horses,” says Christine by way of comparison. “I had a terrible accident and I never once thought about not riding again. Bill loves to fly. I would never ask him not to.” But she says, peppering her explanation with laughter, “I want to retire with him.” The compromise may be not flying the back country.
The weeks that followed have been showered with joy. “It certainly has affected our lives,” says Christine. The letters, emails, text and Facebook messages all lent support. With renewed faith, that new member of the family is also delivered. Putting aside their list of chosen names, the parents look up the meaning of the name of the area where Bill crashed and survived. “Warren,” as it turns out, means defender or protector – a fitting name for their infant son, they decide.
“I am grateful that God gave me more time to live and enjoy family and friends. Let those close to you know how much you love them, for life can change in a few seconds,” advises Bill, who also recommends a well-placed thank-you note.
With his dominant hand still in a cast and unusable for writing, he is looking forward to the day when he can attempt to adequately express his thanks to the McCall Fire Department, the Air Force and all those who participated in securing his family their happy ending.