Avianca Flight 52: The One Word That Could Have Saved 73 Lives

January 25, 1990. John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York.

A Boeing 707 carrying 158 people was minutes from landing. The crew knew they were running out of fuel. The captain, in Spanish, ordered his first officer to tell ATC they were in an emergency.

The first officer keyed the microphone and said: "We're running out of fuel."

ATC responded: "Okay."

Twenty-three minutes later, all four engines flamed out. The aircraft crashed into a hillside in Cove Neck, Long Island. Seventy-three people died—including the entire cockpit crew.

The word the first officer never said? "Emergency."

That single missing word—just four syllables—made the difference between a priority landing and a routine approach. Between life and death for 73 human beings.

For pilots working toward ICAO Level 4 certification, Avianca Flight 52 isn't just a historical case study. It's a chilling demonstration of why exact phraseology isn't optional—it's survival.

The Setup: A Routine Flight Into Chaos

Avianca Flight 52 departed Bogotá, Colombia, at 13:10 EST on January 25, 1990, bound for New York's JFK Airport with an intermediate stop in Medellín. The Boeing 707-321B, registration HK-2016, carried 149 passengers and 9 crew members.

The flight departed Medellín with 67,200 pounds of fuel—more than enough for the 4-hour journey to New York, plus reserves for holding, alternate airport diversion, and contingencies.

What the crew didn't know was that a massive winter storm was descending on the northeastern United States.

The Weather Deteriorates

By the time Avianca 52 approached New York airspace, conditions had deteriorated dramatically:

• Visibility: Less than one mile in fog and drizzle
• Ceiling: 200 feet—barely above minimums
• Winds: Gusting and shifting unpredictably
• Traffic: Massive backlog as aircraft queued for the few available approaches

JFK was operating at reduced capacity. Dozens of aircraft were stacked in holding patterns, burning fuel while waiting their turn.

The Holding Pattern Trap

Avianca 52 was placed in three consecutive holding patterns:

1. First hold: 19 minutes over Norfolk, Virginia
2. Second hold: 29 minutes near Atlantic City, New Jersey
3. Third hold: 29 minutes at the CAMRN intersection, 39 nautical miles from JFK

Total holding time: 77 minutes.

With each minute in the holding pattern, the Boeing 707's fuel gauges crept lower. The safety margins evaporated. The alternate airport—Boston Logan—became unreachable.

And throughout this entire ordeal, a critical communication breakdown was unfolding.

The Communication Breakdown: "Priority" vs. "Emergency"

At 20:44 EST, while still holding at CAMRN, Captain Laureano Caviedes instructed First Officer Mauricio Klotz to inform ATC about their fuel situation.

What followed would be studied for decades as a textbook example of fatal miscommunication.

What the Captain Said (in Spanish)

"Dígale que estamos en emergencia."

("Tell them we are in an emergency.")

What the First Officer Said (in English)

"Avianca zero five two heavy, we're running low on fuel."

Notice what's missing? The word "emergency."

The controller asked how much fuel they had remaining and whether they could make their alternate airport. Klotz responded:

"We can hold about five minutes... and we would not be able to make it to Boston."

This should have been alarming. A flight that can't reach its alternate with only five minutes of holding fuel is, by any reasonable definition, in an emergency.

But the controller heard something different. He heard a flight that was "running low"—not one that was about to crash.

The Controller's Perspective

From the controller's position, "running low on fuel" was a routine advisory. Aircraft frequently reported low fuel states. It meant: give us priority in the sequence, but we're not in immediate danger.

The word "emergency" would have triggered an entirely different response:

• Immediate vector to final approach
• Other aircraft cleared out of the way
• Emergency services on standby
• Tower notified to clear the runway

None of this happened. Avianca 52 was treated as a priority—not an emergency.

The Fatal Distinction

In aviation English, the distinction between "priority" and "emergency" is not semantic—it's procedural:

The first officer used the wrong phrase. The controller followed standard procedures for the phrase he heard. Seventy-three people died in the gap between those procedures.

The Missed Approach: The Point of No Return

At 21:02, Avianca 52 was finally cleared for an ILS approach to Runway 22L. The crew had been flying for nearly eight hours. They were exhausted, stressed, and operating on fumes—literally.

The approach started normally. But at 500 feet above the ground, the aircraft encountered wind shear. The nose dropped. The Ground Proximity Warning System screamed: "PULL UP! PULL UP!"

Captain Caviedes executed a go-around—the correct decision for the immediate windshear threat. But it sealed the flight's fate.

There wasn't enough fuel for another approach.

The Final Transmissions

As the aircraft climbed away from the runway, the captain made one final, desperate attempt to communicate the emergency. The CVR transcript captures the moment:

21:24:00 (Cockpit):

Captain: "I don't know what happened with the runway. I didn't see it."

21:24:06 (Cockpit):

Captain: "Tell them we are in emergency."

21:24:09 (Radio - First Officer):

"That's right to one eight zero on the heading and ah we'll try once again we're running out of fuel."

21:24:15 (Radio - Tower):

"Okay."

Even in the final moments, with the captain explicitly ordering an emergency declaration in Spanish, the first officer still didn't use the word "emergency."

21:24:22 (Cockpit):

Captain: "Advise him we are emergency." Captain: "Did you tell him?" First Officer: "Yes sir, I already advised him."

But he hadn't. Not in the way that mattered. Not with the word that would have changed everything.

21:25:08 (Cockpit):

Captain: "Advise him we don't have fuel."

21:25:10 (Radio - First Officer):

"Climb and maintain three thousand and ah we're running out of fuel sir."

At 21:32, the flight engineer reported: "Flame out on engine number four."

Seconds later: "Flame out on engine number three."

Then: "We've lost two engines."

At 21:34, Avianca Flight 52 crashed into a wooded hillside in Cove Neck, New York, approximately 15 miles from the runway it never reached.

Why "Running Low on Fuel" Wasn't Enough

The NTSB investigation revealed a tragic irony: both the crew and the controllers believed they were communicating effectively.

The Crew's Assumption

The Avianca pilots believed that phrases like "running low on fuel" and "priority" conveyed the urgency of their situation. In their training—conducted by Boeing—they had been taught that "priority" was the appropriate term for fuel-critical situations.

Boeing's own operations bulletins stated that "during any operation with very low fuel quantity, priority handling from ATC should be requested."

The crew followed their training. Their training was fatally incomplete.

The Controller's Assumption

The New York approach controller later testified that he never understood the severity of Avianca's situation. The crew said "running low on fuel"—a phrase he heard multiple times per shift. They said "priority"—which meant sequence them efficiently, not land them immediately.

Had the crew said "fuel emergency" or "mayday fuel" or simply "emergency", the controller would have taken immediate action.

But they didn't. And he didn't.

The Language Gap

The NTSB report highlighted a critical finding:

"The lack of standardized understandable terminology for pilots and controllers for minimum and emergency fuel states" contributed to the accident.

In other words: the international aviation community didn't have clear, universal definitions for fuel-critical situations. What counted as "low fuel" versus "emergency fuel" varied by airline, by country, by controller.

Avianca 52 exposed this gap—and 73 people paid the price.

What Changed After Avianca 52

The crash prompted sweeping reforms in aviation communication:

1. Standardized Fuel Terminology

The FAA clarified fuel-related phraseology with explicit definitions:

• "Minimum Fuel": Advisory only. Aircraft can still complete approach but has no contingency fuel. No priority implied.
• "Fuel Emergency" / "Mayday Fuel": Aircraft cannot complete approach safely without immediate assistance. Triggers emergency response.

2. Controller Training

Controllers were trained to:

• Seek clarification whenever fuel state is mentioned
• Ask directly: "Are you declaring an emergency?"
• Err on the side of declaring emergency status when in doubt

3. Crew Resource Management

The accident reinforced CRM principles:

• The first officer should have used the exact word the captain requested
• Any crew member should be empowered to declare an emergency
• Communication breakdowns must be caught and corrected in real-time

4. ICAO Language Proficiency Requirements

Avianca 52 became a foundational case study for the ICAO Language Proficiency Requirements adopted in 2008. The accident demonstrated that functional communication—not just grammatical correctness—was essential for flight safety.

The ICAO Level 4 Connection

Every element of this tragedy maps directly to ICAO language proficiency criteria:

Vocabulary (Criterion 1)

The first officer knew the word "emergency." He simply didn't use it. ICAO Level 4 requires pilots to have:

"Sufficient vocabulary to communicate effectively on... unexpected events related to flight."

"Running low on fuel" is descriptive. "Fuel emergency" is operational. The difference is vocabulary precision.

Structure (Criterion 2)

The first officer's transmissions were grammatically correct. But correctness isn't enough. ICAO Level 4 requires:

"Basic grammatical structures and sentence patterns used creatively and are usually well controlled."

The structure of "we're running out of fuel" sounds like a complaint, not an emergency declaration. "Mayday, mayday, mayday—Avianca 52 declaring fuel emergency" leaves no ambiguity.

Pronunciation (Criterion 3)

There's no evidence that pronunciation was a factor. Both pilots were understandable to controllers. But the clarity of individual words matters less than the clarity of meaning.

Fluency (Criterion 4)

Under extreme stress, the first officer reverted to soft, hedging language: "I guess so thank you very much" when asked if he could accept a 15-mile vector. ICAO Level 4 requires:

"Extended discourse appropriate to the task."

In an emergency, hesitation kills. Fluency means speaking with authority when lives depend on it.

Comprehension (Criterion 5)

The crew failed to comprehend that their messages weren't being understood as emergencies. When the controller gave them routine vectoring instead of immediate clearance, they should have recognized the disconnect.

Interaction (Criterion 6)

This is where the failure was most catastrophic. ICAO Level 4 requires:

"Responses are usually immediate, appropriate, and informative."

The first officer's responses were appropriate for a routine situation. They were catastrophically inadequate for an emergency.

Lessons for Every Pilot

Avianca 52 teaches critical lessons that apply to every pilot flying internationally:

1. Use Standard Phraseology—Exactly

If you're in an emergency, say "emergency." If you need to declare mayday, say "mayday." If you're declaring minimum fuel, say "minimum fuel"—and understand that this is advisory only.

Don't paraphrase. Don't soften. Don't assume controllers will read between the lines.

The exact words exist for a reason. Use them.

2. Verify Understanding

When you transmit critical information, listen to the response. If ATC's response doesn't match the urgency of your situation, clarify immediately.

"Negative, we are declaring a fuel emergency. We require immediate vectors to final."

If you're being treated routinely and you're not in a routine situation, speak up.

3. Overcome Cultural Barriers

The NTSB noted that cultural factors may have contributed to the first officer's reluctance to use forceful language. In some cultures, indirect communication is polite.

In aviation, indirect communication is dangerous.

ICAO Level 4 doesn't just test language—it tests your ability to communicate assertively in safety-critical situations, regardless of cultural background.

4. Train for Stress

Under stress, pilots revert to habit. If your habit is vague, hedging language, that's what you'll produce when your engines are flaming out.

Practice emergency phraseology until it's automatic. Drill the exact words:

• "Mayday, mayday, mayday—[callsign] declaring fuel emergency."
• "Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan—[callsign] minimum fuel."
• "[Callsign] is declaring an emergency due to [reason]."

Make these phrases reflexive, not reflective.

The Human Cost

Behind the statistics—73 dead, 85 survivors—were real people with real lives.

Captain Laureano Caviedes, 52, had flown for Avianca for over 20 years. First Officer Mauricio Klotz, 28, was building his career. Flight Engineer Matias Moyano never made it out of the cockpit.

The passengers included businesspeople, tourists, families returning home, students heading to new opportunities.

Some survived because they were seated in the rear of the aircraft, which remained relatively intact. Others survived through pure chance—the way their bodies landed, the speed of rescue workers, the position of wreckage.

All of them were victims of a communication failure that should never have happened.

The Pilot Who Learned from Avianca 52

In the years following the crash, a Colombian pilot named Captain Alfonso Pertuz became Avianca's primary liaison with the NTSB investigation. He studied every transcript, every recording, every decision point.

His conclusion was simple and devastating:

The crew knew they were in an emergency. They discussed it in Spanish. They used the word "emergencia" multiple times in the cockpit.

They just never said it in English to the people who could help them.

The gap between understanding and communicating—between knowing the situation and expressing it in the required language—was the gap where 73 people died.

Your Aviation English: A Matter of Life and Death

Avianca 52 wasn't an isolated incident. It was a warning.

The NTSB report concluded that the accident resulted from:

"The failure of the flightcrew to adequately manage the airplane's fuel load, and their failure to communicate an emergency fuel situation to air traffic control before fuel exhaustion occurred."

Communication failure. Not mechanical failure. Not weather. Not ATC error.

Words.

One Word. Seventy-Three Lives.

The first officer of Avianca 52 spoke English. He could construct sentences. He could communicate routinely with ATC. By most casual measures, his English was "good enough."

It wasn't.

Because when his captain said "tell them we are in emergency" in Spanish, he said "we're running out of fuel" in English.

And when 73 people died because of that gap, "good enough" stopped being good enough for anyone.

Train Like Your Life Depends On It—Because It Does

Avianca Flight 52 proved that aviation English proficiency isn't about grammar tests or vocabulary lists. It's about being able to say the exact right words in the exact right moment—when you're exhausted, stressed, and watching your fuel gauges drop to zero.

At AviLingo, we train pilots for exactly these moments:

✅ Standard phraseology drills for fuel emergencies, equipment failures, and critical situations
✅ Stress communication exercises that simulate high-workload scenarios
✅ Assertive communication training to overcome cultural barriers
✅ ICAO Level 4 assessment preparation focused on operational competence
✅ Real ATC communication practice with authentic scenarios

Don't wait until you're in the pattern with flaming-out engines to discover your English isn't precise enough.

Start Training Today → avilingo.net

Remember Their Names

Seventy-three people died on January 25, 1990, because a pilot said "running out of fuel" instead of "emergency."

Every time you key your mic, you honor their memory by using the words that will be understood—clearly, precisely, immediately.

One word can save seventy-three lives.

Make sure you know which word to use.

What communication challenges have you faced as a pilot? How do you prepare for high-stress radio communications? Share your experiences in the comments below.

Sources and Further Reading

• National Transportation Safety Board Aircraft Accident Report AAR-91/04
• FAA Advisory Circular: Pilot/Controller Communications
• ICAO Document 9835: Manual on the Implementation of Language Proficiency Requirements
• Cushing, Steven. (1995). "Pilot-Air Traffic Control Communications"
• Code 7700: Avianca 52 Case Study Analysis