Algerian Incident - 3 - Tony Cunnane's Life and Times

This is the final part of a three-part flying story from 49 years ago that I have never written about, nor spoken about, since it happened.

After landing at Oran La Senia we were met, not by Algerians, but by a whole bunch of armed French Air Force personnel. Many of them had seen our Hastings land with one engine on each side feathered and were very keen to know where we had been going, how long we had flown on two engines, and why we had chosen to land at Oran.

Most of the French were very friendly and insisted on taking us straightaway to the Officers Mess where had an excellent lunch and made full use of the French wine already on our table – one bottle for each person. The Captain, naturally, was concerned to get in touch with UK to tell our HQ exactly what had happened. I had not heard an acknowledgement to my final landing message and I knew it was my duty to make absolutely sure that the RAF knew we had landed safely and not ditched into the Mediterranean. A French officer assured us, with a shrug of his shoulders, that there was no way to contact anyone in UK – he said the French equivalent of "there is a war on, you know". At that time, 1961, France was not part of NATO for defence purposes.
The engineer needed to get back to the aircraft to find out what was wrong with the two engines that had failed. I wanted to go back so that I could use the HF equipment to contact one of the RAF guard stations on HF. That would be an improper use of air to ground frequencies but when needs must, rules have to be bent.
The captain agreed and so we all went back to the aircraft accompanied by several French officers. Then we discovered that the French Air Force ground electrical supplies could not be connected to our aircraft because the NATO standard plugs and sockets fitted to the Hastings did not match the French equipment. Our engineer, therefore, started one of the serviceable engines using the aircraft's own batteries and then put the engine-driven generator on line so I had enough electrical power to operate the HF transmitter.

A French officer stood behind me with a headset on listening to what I was transmitting. I can't remember who answered my radio call but it was answered almost immediately. The operator seemed not to believe he was communicating with a Hastings from RAF Lindholme on the ground in North Africa but eventually I was able to convince him. In the meantime the engineer decided that the two engines had failed because of blocked oil filters. Apparently the Hastings had a history of oil filter trouble at that time and he thought he could clear the problems without help from the UK. By that time it was getting dark so we all retired to the Officers Mess again and decided to do nothing to the aircraft until the next day.

The following morning a French officer told us that he had laid on transport to downtown Oran where the British Consul was expecting to meet us. We decided that we would all stick together and go along for the sight-seeing ride and that we would wear our flying suits, not civilian clothes. The local population had obviously not only learned of our landing but they also knew we were on our way to the British Consulate. Astonishingly, crowds lined the last mile or so of the route. Some were looking on curiously but quite a few were cheering and waving in a very friendly manner. Several locals shouted 'welcome Breetish' and one chap actually pushed his head through an open window in our minibus when we were caught in a traffic jam and said, "I met Meester Churchill. Very good man." And all this was 16 years after the end of World War 2!

The Consul arranged for our Captain to go and use his communications facilities to talk to RAF Bomber Command HQ. Then he handed us a thick wad of Francs; he said we could sign a chit for landing fees and any fuel we uplifted at the airfield but we would have to pay cash for our food and accommodation in the French Officers Mess. None of us signed for the money and, as far as I know, we were never asked to account for it when we eventually got back to UK.

The Flight Engineer ground tested all four engines to his satisfaction and we had an uneventful flight to Gibraltar the next day and had another night stop there. (We still had sufficient fuel on board to fly direct to Gibraltar.)

When we eventually landed back at Lindholme, after a short stop at RAF Waddington for Customs clearance, I went straight to my car and drove myself back to my home base, RAF Finningley. No-one ever asked me where I had been and I never spoke about the trip to anyone apart from my own squadron commander. That was the V Force 'need-to-know' principle in action.

Postscript. One day ten years later, by which time I had become a pilot and was an aircraft captain myself on Victor Tankers at RAF Marham, I went on a training visit to Uxbridge to see the RAF Search and Rescue HQ in operation. At one point in the radio room I happened to mention to the civilian radio operators our incident in Oran. A chap in the corner took off his headset and said, "I was that HF operator at St Mawgan when you made your Pan calls. I thought your procedures were excellent. Well done! It's the only emergency call I had to deal with in my entire career."

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