Appointment over Bali - Part 1

This is an edited version of an short article I published in 1975

Because I was acting as a Courier, I travelled first class on BOAC B-707 flight BA714 which departed from Singapore at 2115hrs local time on 26 May 1965. I had a locked briefcase in my possession which I had to declare to the aircraft Captain. I knew what was inside because I'd helped to pack the documents – indeed, I'd written and then typed most of them. I was one of only two first class passengers on the flight and so the hostess and the Chief Steward both paid particular attention to my creature comforts.

High overhead the island of Bali, at about midnight local time, the hostess sat down alongside me, at my request I hasten to add. By that time I had savoured several apéritifs, consumed an excellent dinner washed down by a selection of fine wines, and knocked back a couple of Grand Marniers. I'd declined the offer of a cigarette, being a life-long non-smoker. After a pleasant conversation in which we swapped stories about the progress of our respective careers, I invited the lady to have dinner with me when we were both next in Singapore. To my delight, she readily agreed and returned forthwith to the galley, presumably to continue with her other duties. I then promptly fell into an alcohol-induced sleep thereby missing the only opportunity I have ever had to join the exclusive '40,000 Foot Club'. I put my tiredness down to the rarefied atmosphere in the Boeing 707’s pressurised cabin.

I was wakened rather abruptly by the Chief Steward leaning over me.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Cunnane’ he said deferentially, but with a suggestion of a smirk on his face. ‘The Captain requests your immediate presence on the flight deck.’ He made it sound more like an order than an invitation.

I hurriedly struggled somewhat unsteadily to my feet and followed him, rehearsing in my mind the security briefing I'd been given about what to do with the briefcase in the event of a serious emergency occurring in flight. With some trepidation I allowed myself to be pushed through the narrow door which led into the darkened pilots’ office. The 707 cockpit was small compared with the spaciousness of the modern Boeing 747’s flight deck . There were seats for the two pilots and the flight engineer and little else.

‘Captain, this is Mr Cunnane,’ announced the Chief Steward. He then silently withdrew, closing the interconnecting door behind him.

My eyes quickly grew accustomed to the dim cockpit lighting. There seemed to be complete calm on the flight deck - no obvious signs of any emergency. Automatically scanning the skyline and the flight instruments, something an experienced pilot can do in a couple of seconds, I could see that it was a clear starlit night, that we were in straight and level flight at 41,000 feet, and that all four engines were operating normally.

‘Ah, Mr Cunnane,’ the Captain said grimly. ‘I hope your briefcase is quite secure?’

He was a large moustachioed gentleman, perhaps 50 years of age. His safety harness was loosely fastened and so he was able, although with some difficulty because of his bulk, to turn and face me. He motioned me to sit on the occasional seat that the Flight Engineer had just folded down behind me.

‘Yes, Captain,’ I said meekly, sitting down and patting the briefcase reassuringly. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘I’m afraid there is,’ replied the Captain. ‘A serious problem.’

There was a pause before the three aircrew broke out laughing. I was nonplussed and then the Captain continued.

‘What d’you mean by inviting my girl friend out to dinner in Singapore without first asking my permission? You Air Force types are all the same. In the airlines the Captain always has the first choice of the hostesses.’

It turned out that the two pilots and the engineer were all ex-RAF themselves. Having had a no doubt highly exaggerated account from the Chief Steward about the ‘goings-on’ in First Class, they thought it would be a jolly good wheeze to wind me up. Long haul civil flying always was boring for the air crews! Whether the Chief Steward fancied me himself and was jealous of my interest in the air hostess, or whether he was simply looking after the Captain’s interest, I never found out. I was invited to remain on the flight deck for the rest of the trip to Darwin. We landed at 0400hrs Darwin time on Thursday 27 May, Ascension Day!

I was the only passenger to disembark at Darwin - no-one wants to arrive at Darwin in the middle of the night. The airport terminal was almost totally deserted. No-one took any notice of me as I wandered alone wondering where my promised meeter-and-greeter was. There were no customs or immigration checks; no-one asked to see my passport . I had my standard UK passport, not the special one issued to government couriers. Eventually an alert policeman, seeing me standing forlornly in the empty Arrivals Hall and noticing that my briefcase was attached to my wrist by a chain, asked me what I was doing and what was in my briefcase. I tried to explain that I was awaiting an RAAF officer and that I was not at liberty to tell him what was in the briefcase. The policeman was just about to get difficult when an RAAF wing commander arrived to escort me to the air force base on the other side of the airfield.

It turned out that the wing commander was simply a duty officer who had been told to meet me and take me to the Officers Mess. He knew nothing about my purpose but he convinced the policemen that I was not a threat. He probably objected to being detailed to meet a lowly flight lieutenant in the middle of the night - and who could blame him? He led me to a single, non-air conditioned room in the Officers Mess and departed. I collapsed in a heap on the bed and fell fast asleep for several hours. I completely failed to notice a letter on the bedside table welcoming me to Australia and inviting me to report to the Operations Centre at 0700hrs.

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