The Last Flight of 771

A Narrative Retelling of Afriqiyah Airways Flight 771

Chapter 1 – The Night Departure

Johannesburg’s night air was cool and still as Captain Ysef Al-Sadi stood at the gate, watching the ground crew complete the final checks on his Airbus A330. At 57, Al-Sadi was a man shaped by decades in the sky — calm, steady, and respected. He took pride in his professionalism, but also in his ability to get his passengers home safely, every single time.

His co-pilot tonight, First Officer Tark Abu al-Shawashi, was younger, 42, serious-faced, but friendly. He had logged just over 4,000 hours, and every time he flew with the captain, he felt his confidence grow.

The relief pilot, Nazam Alahuni, joined them on the flight deck with a cheerful nod. Though quiet, he had a reputation for being focused and precise.

“Long night ahead,” Tark said as he settled into the right seat, adjusting his harness.

“We’ve done it before,” the captain replied, glancing over the flight plan. “Just one more hop over the continent, and we’ll be back in Tripoli before sunrise.”

By 9:45 p.m., the aircraft — tail number 5A-ONG — rolled from the gate with 104 people onboard. Among them was 9-year-old Ruben, traveling with his parents. He clutched his small backpack, nervous but excited.

As the A330 lifted off into the dark sky, Johannesburg’s lights fell away behind them. Inside the cockpit, the three men began to settle into the rhythm of the flight — a rhythm they had followed countless times.

Chapter 2 – Crossing the Continent

At cruise altitude, the cockpit was quiet except for the hum of the engines and the occasional ATC call. The relief pilot took the controls for several hours, allowing both Captain Ysef and Tark to rest in shifts.

Fatigue, however, is a stubborn enemy. The flight was timed to arrive at 4:00 a.m., right in the circadian low, when human alertness is at its weakest. Despite 15 hours of rest, both pilots returned to the flight deck slightly groggy, blinking against the weight of their eyelids as they prepared for descent.

“Weather is good,” Tark said as he reviewed the latest ATIS report. “Clear skies, calm winds.”

“Easy day, then,” the captain said. He didn’t know — none of them did — that a thin, low-lying fog was forming near the ground. The kind that hides a runway until it is too late.

Chapter 3 – The Approach

As they neared Tripoli, air traffic control cleared them for the locator approach to Runway 09. The crew set up the navigation systems.

But here, the first small crack appeared. The approach briefing was short, too short, skipping items usually required by procedure. The captain and first officer both assumed this would be a routine approach — they had flown this route countless times.

“Let’s use NAV approach,” the captain said.

“Copy,” Tark replied — but his mental model was different. He thought they would descend manually, using selected mode, watching the flight path vector on the display.

This misunderstanding would be critical.

At 1,800 feet, they switched to track/FPA mode. The captain’s call of “Track FPA” made Tark believe the descent would be flown manually. The captain, meanwhile, still believed the aircraft would stay in managed mode.

Moments later, Tark saw the distance readout: 5.2 miles. He believed they were over Tango Whiskey, the final approach fix — but he was wrong. They were still 1.3 miles too far out.

He dialed in a descent angle of -3° and began the approach early.

No one noticed.

Chapter 4 – Below Minimums

The A330 descended smoothly, the city of Tripoli glowing faintly in the pre-dawn darkness.

“100 above,” the automated callout warned.

Still no runway.

Captain Ysef leaned forward, peering into the mist. “Continue,” he ordered, believing they were closer than they actually were.

Tark hesitated. He couldn’t see the runway. His instincts told him to go around.

“Should we abort?” he asked.

The captain didn’t respond — his attention fixed outside.

At 300 feet, Tark asked again. Silence.

Then the terrain warning system screamed:

“TOO LOW. TERRAIN.”

Captain Ysef snapped back to full awareness. “Go around!” he barked.

Tark slammed the thrust levers to TOGA, disconnected the autopilot, and pitched the nose up. The engines roared, shoving everyone back into their seats.

For a moment, they were climbing. They were safe.

Chapter 5 – Spatial Disorientation

But flying on instruments in the blackness before dawn is disorienting. The sudden surge of thrust made both pilots feel like the aircraft’s nose was pitching up too steeply.

Trusting his senses more than his instruments, Tark pushed forward on the sidestick to level off. The climb lasted just four seconds before the nose dipped.

The A330 accelerated dangerously.

“Flaps three!” the captain commanded to avoid overspeed damage.

Then, believing the nose was still too high, Captain Ysef grabbed his sidestick and also pushed forward — but he also inadvertently pressed the sidestick priority button, silently canceling out Tark’s inputs.

“DUAL INPUT. DUAL INPUT.”

The warning blared, but neither man realized that the captain now had exclusive control.

The aircraft was descending — fast.

“TERRAIN, TERRAIN. PULL UP.”

Tark pulled back hard, but nothing happened. His input was being ignored.

Only at 180 feet above the ground did the captain release the button and pull back as well. The nose began to rise — but there was no altitude left.

Chapter 6 – The Impact

The A330 struck the desert floor just 1.2 kilometers short of the runway at nearly 260 knots. The fuselage tore apart, scattering wreckage across the sand.

In the tail section, miraculously, young Ruben survived. Dazed, pinned, but alive.

Chapter 7 – Aftermath and Legacy

In the weeks after the crash, investigators from Libya, France, and Airbus pieced together the chain of events. They discovered:

Miscommunication about guidance mode had led to an early descent.

Complacency during approach briefing left no safety margin.

Spatial disorientation during the go-around caused incorrect nose-down inputs.

Dual input priority blocked the first officer’s recovery attempt.

For the families of the victims, there was grief, anger — and questions. Why had three trained pilots failed to save a perfectly functioning aircraft?

The final report urged improvements in crew resource management (CRM), training for go-arounds in low visibility, and better emphasis on standard terminology to avoid confusion about guidance modes.

Epilogue

Ruben became known as the miracle boy of Flight 771. In interviews years later, he said he had no memory of the crash, only of waking up in a hospital bed to learn his parents were gone.

Captain Ysef and Tark were remembered not as villains but as human beings who fought until the last seconds to save their passengers. Their names became part of safety training programs worldwide, their final flight a lesson for future aviators.

And in Tripoli, at dawn, flights still approach Runway 09. Pilots flying that route know the story of Flight 771. They know the mistakes that were made, and they resolve never to repeat them.

The tragedy claimed 103 lives — but its lessons have saved countless more.