Tony Cunnane's RAF Years

In January 1970 I was appointed Flight Commander, halfway through my tour of exchange duty as a flying instructor with the Pakistan Air Force Academy at Risalpur in the North West Frontier Province (NWFP).

There was a two-week visit to the Academy by three members of the RAF's Central Flying School Examining Wing. One day, when the CFS visitors had a free day, I escorted them on a trip in a minibus up the Khyber Pass as far as the Pakistan-Afghanistan border at Torkham. Two Pakistan Air Force officers also accompanied us - "for our safety". I always had to be careful where I pointed my camera even though, on the two or three occasions when I travelled into the hills west of Peshawar, I was always accompanied by one or more officer friends from the Academy at Risalpur; not only did they know the customs but, crucially, they could speak the local language - Pushto.

Most of the adult males in the so-called 'Tribal Territories' carried rifles and they did not wish to be photographed at close quarters. I already knew that I should never photograph females. In fact most of the photographs I took during my tour of duty in Pakistan were taken from inside a Pakistan Air Force (PAF) car or minibus. (Slight digression. At weekends I often visited British friends in Islamabad and was driven there and back by the Air Advisor's driver in a British High Commission vehicle which had diplomatic immunity. I never took my camera on those drives.)

For those trips into the NWFP my PAF companions were always Pathans, that is they hailed from the North West Frontier. Part of the Pathans' traditional code of honour has, apparently, always guaranteed free and unhindered passage to friendly 'foreigners' - so long as they do not step off the highway onto the surrounding land. From time to time as we climbed the narrow twisting road one or other of my PAF companions drew my attention to something glinting in the sun on a distant peak or outcrop of rocks. 'We're being watched all the way'' he said, ominously but with a grin. 'There are no hiding places for foreigners!'

The CFS visit coincided with the Holy Month of Ramadan which was a bit of bad planning on someone's part because it was not safe to fly whilst fasting when the temperatures daily reached upwards of 35 degrees Centigrade. I had made a vow that during Ramadan that I would not eat or drink in daylight hours except on those days when I was required to fly on duty. My Pakistani colleagues were quite impressed with my decision. On flying days the Pakistani flying instructors and the Muslim students could obtain dispensation to eat and drink; it was their personal decision. Most of the students did elect to suspend their fast and continue flying but were under a religious obligation to make up an equivalent number of days by fasting after the end of Ramadan. Before flying with a student during Ramadan his instructor had to accompany him to the canteen and watch while he drank liquid and consumed some food. I carefully briefed the CFS visitors that they must not be seen eating or drinking anywhere in public during daylight hours.

Once we reached the Afghanistan border, our Pakistani driver parked the minibus behind an outcrop of rocks about 200 metres from the border post. One of the PAF officers told the CFS visitors that it would be permissible for them to have their refreshments there as long as they stayed out of sight. Our driver had already withdrawn to say his midday prayers. I wanted to take some photographs of the border post and so I went off with the PAF officers while the CFS officers had their picnic. The border guards were very happy to pose for my photographs and I was even allowed to walk across the border so that I could say that I had been to Afghanistan.

Click on any of the images to pop up a larger version with a caption. All images (c) Tony Cunnane 1970

Imagine my dismay when I returned to the minibus to find the CFS officers were surrounded by a small crowd of boys aged about 6 to 10 years old. Even worse, I realised the boys were sampling the beer and enjoying the ham sandwiches that the British High Commission had provided for the RAF's picnic lunch! Quickly I shooed the boys away. They all had wide grins on their faces; they were old enough to know about fasting but I doubt if they knew they were eating pig meat and drinking alcohol. After remonstrating with the CFS officers I shouted for our PAF companions. When they returned I explained what had happened. They were very understanding. Children of that age were not required to fast but I imagine their fathers would have been very angry had they known what their offspring had been eating.

As soon as the sun had gone down on the long drive back to Risalpur, we stopped at a roadside stall and had some legitimate food and drink with the villagers congregated there. No money changed hands - it was Pushto hospitality.

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