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On Tuesday afternoon, May 24, 1988, Transportes Aéreos del Continente Americano (TACA) Flight 110 was painting thunderstorms and rain showers on the cockpit weather radar. The plane was enroute from San Salvador to New Orleans. It was a regularly scheduled flight, and the route across Central America and the Gulf of Mexico was routine. Cruising at about 35,000 feet (or 11,000 meters), no one onboard, not the crew and not the passengers, had any idea of what was about to happen.

Only moments after the plane began its descent into the heavy rain showers and developing thunderstorms below, not one, but both engines flamed-out. TACA Flight 110 was now dead-sticking into heavy rain and thunderstorms. What had been a quiet and relaxing flight, had now become a flight into Hell. One that will likely result in a crash into the Gulf of Mexico, or maybe onto the land, with a loss of all passengers and crew. Except, that didn't happen.

This is the story of TACA Flight 110 – a miraculous, dead-stick landing of a commercial airliner, with the crew fully expecting to land in Lake Pontchartrain next to the City of New Orleans. Instead, the crew spotted a narrow strip of levee, a dirt and grass strip of land barely wider than the plane itself, where they could attempt to land the plane, instead of ditching into the lake.

The remarkable airmanship of the young pilot saved the plane and passengers, but what caused the dual flame-outs and why did the captain seemingly willingly fly into a thunderstorm? Radar Contact Lost examines the weather, the engines of the brand new 737 and celebrates one of the most remarkable emergency landings in aviation history.

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On July 30, 2025, Delta Airlines Flight 56, an Airbus A330-900, carrying 275 passengers and 13 crew, was cruising at about 37,000 feet/11,300 meters over the high plains region of south central Wyoming. The evening flight had been underway for about 40 minutes; there were perhaps 9-or-so hours remaining before reaching the destination of Amsterdam in The Netherlands. Meal service had begun and passengers were settled in for the long, overnight flight. Looking out to the late afternoon horizon, those with window seats could see lightning from thunderstorms. The plane suddenly experienced a series of sudden, unexpected and severe vertical jolts up and down. As the plane was slammed downward, unbelted passengers were thrown into the ceiling, along with the flight attendants, who were in the midst of meal service. The turbulence was so severe that an emergency landing was necessary and 25 passengers were hospitalized.

This episode is all about turbulence. How it forms, why it forms and where it forms. How aircrews train for turbulence and how airplanes are built to withstand it. Even tips for passengers on how to mitigate turbulence before ever stepping onto the airplane. If you’re a white-knuckle flyer, have aerophobia or aviophobia – the fear of flying – then this episode of Radar Contact Lost is for you.

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It was Saturday morning, February 20, 1943. The morning fog lay thick over the prairie of northern Texas and the rolling hills of southeastern Oklahoma, clinging to the fields and tree lines like a wet gray blanket. The sun had not yet burned through the mist, and visibility in a few places was little more than a few hundred feet. At this time of year, locals in the area—farmers, mostly—were used to crisp, clear mornings or the bluster of a winter wind. But this morning was different – the fog felt like it would take a while to burn off, if it ever did.

Above that fog, somewhere in the pale early morning light, 12 small aircraft, each with a student pilot and student navigator, were flying a training mission. The young pilots, students who were early in their flight training, were searching for a break in the blanketing mist. These pilots weren’t from Oklahoma or neighboring Texas. They weren’t even American. They were young British airmen—cadets of the Royal Air Force – training thousands of miles from home.

Somewhere up there, in the limited visibility, the group of twelve airplanes got separated. There was a group of three, and then that group of three became a group of two. But soon, each of those three planes found themselves alone in the fog, each desperately looking for a way out: looking for a patch of blue sky or, perhaps, a hole in the fog so that maybe they could take a chance at an emergency landing – somewhere; anywhere. Two of the twelve planes crashed in the fog that day. Four RAF cadets, a pilot and navigator in each plane, perished in the Oklahoma mountains.

This is the story of those British pilot cadets who crashed on February 20, 1943, and a training program that brought a small piece of London, England, to a small Texas town named Terrell. In addition to the burial of the four British cadets, it also brought a memorial that was erected nearly 60 years later, by students of a different kind: Elementary school students who learned of the nearby airplane crashes in their reading class at school.