Secret VIP Flights
Chief Pilot Kit Trimble’s replacement was a Frenchman of repulsive girth who soon gained the rather accurate appellation of Mudguts.
Captain R.P. Tizzy Tissandier was to hold the position of Chief Pilot/Operations Manager longest of all. Like the Arab of legend, in August 1952 he silently packed his tent and stole off into the twilight. Although the aviation brotherhood is far flung essentially it is small in personnel yet I never heard of him again!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch neither Tissy nor I could stand each other. Strangely, he seemed to go out of his way to give me the plumb jobs and either I was in the presence of yet another paradoxical individual or were we two of a kind!
The company confirmed their forgiveness by entrusting me with another sensitive job. On 22 May 1950 I flew Dove XY-ABS from Mingaladon to Anisakan to return the President of the Union of Burma, and his family to his capital. Three planes took part in this operation.
My Dove carried His Excellency, Her Excellency, their five children, Aide-de-Camp Captain Hkun Kyaw Hpa, Ma Tun Hla and Dr. Aye Maung. Cathay Pacific’s Nikki VR-HDA carried the President’s Staff and another DC-3 the household servants and the baggage.
I mused that this assignment normally would be done by the Chief Pilot not one who had recently blotted his copybook, although further reflection suggested a more sinister reason. Perhaps an unscrupulous aspirant for the Presidency might hope that under my care, the office could be vacant rather sooner. Whatever the reason, I must have impressed their Excellencies and two years later, on 8 December 1952 President Sao Shwe Thaik requested I pilot him from Mandalay. This time it was in a DC-3 with the Burmese registration XY-ACQ.
Captain R.P. Tizzy Tissandier was to hold the position of Chief Pilot/Operations Manager longest of all. Like the Arab of legend, in August 1952 he silently packed his tent and stole off into the twilight. Although the aviation brotherhood is far flung essentially it is small in personnel yet I never heard of him again!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch neither Tissy nor I could stand each other. Strangely, he seemed to go out of his way to give me the plumb jobs and either I was in the presence of yet another paradoxical individual or were we two of a kind!
The company confirmed their forgiveness by entrusting me with another sensitive job. On 22 May 1950 I flew Dove XY-ABS from Mingaladon to Anisakan to return the President of the Union of Burma, and his family to his capital. Three planes took part in this operation.
My Dove carried His Excellency, Her Excellency, their five children, Aide-de-Camp Captain Hkun Kyaw Hpa, Ma Tun Hla and Dr. Aye Maung. Cathay Pacific’s Nikki VR-HDA carried the President’s Staff and another DC-3 the household servants and the baggage.
I mused that this assignment normally would be done by the Chief Pilot not one who had recently blotted his copybook, although further reflection suggested a more sinister reason. Perhaps an unscrupulous aspirant for the Presidency might hope that under my care, the office could be vacant rather sooner. Whatever the reason, I must have impressed their Excellencies and two years later, on 8 December 1952 President Sao Shwe Thaik requested I pilot him from Mandalay. This time it was in a DC-3 with the Burmese registration XY-ACQ.
Burma’s Prime Minister
U Thakin Nu En-route to
Singkaling Hkamti
What impressed me was the punctuality of an authentic VIP when compared with an upstart. The real VIP never keeps others waiting and a precise time of departure is honoured to the dot.
On the last day of March 1953 my duty took me to a tiny strip 600 miles north of Rangoon. This niche, gloriously named Singkaling Hkamti nestles on the east bank of the Chindwin River about 30 miles from the Burma-India border. My crew was F/O George Wiltshire, R/O Ba Aye and Cabin Attendant Nyunt. Our job was to take the Burmese Prime Minister U Thakin Nu to a secret conference where high level politics topped the Agenda. My first officer scowled when, to his obvious question, I replied I had no idea - it was a secret!
Three hours and 50 minutes after leaving Rangoon the strip with the glorious name hove into view. As I warily circled a cluster of hovels that surrounded my target my first officer managed to evict his PM from the right seat. The PM seemed to resent the eviction so I invited him to stand behind me where he had a better view. We saw a bullock owner kicking the crap out of his animal and a group of kids giving the same treatment to something resembling a ball as they scurried away. The PM mischievously remarked that the kids were obviously apprenticed to the bullock kicker!
On the last day of March 1953 my duty took me to a tiny strip 600 miles north of Rangoon. This niche, gloriously named Singkaling Hkamti nestles on the east bank of the Chindwin River about 30 miles from the Burma-India border. My crew was F/O George Wiltshire, R/O Ba Aye and Cabin Attendant Nyunt. Our job was to take the Burmese Prime Minister U Thakin Nu to a secret conference where high level politics topped the Agenda. My first officer scowled when, to his obvious question, I replied I had no idea - it was a secret!
Three hours and 50 minutes after leaving Rangoon the strip with the glorious name hove into view. As I warily circled a cluster of hovels that surrounded my target my first officer managed to evict his PM from the right seat. The PM seemed to resent the eviction so I invited him to stand behind me where he had a better view. We saw a bullock owner kicking the crap out of his animal and a group of kids giving the same treatment to something resembling a ball as they scurried away. The PM mischievously remarked that the kids were obviously apprenticed to the bullock kicker!
Red line - 600 mile track to Singkaling
Hkamti from Rangoon via
Mandalay
With the hot breath of Burma’s PM tickling my right ear I began my approach. On short final a now subdued PM breathed is that the strip? I took his remark as rhetorical for our wheels had just touched down. I jumped on the innocent brakes as though they were suddenly vipers. We stopped with space to spare – well, inches anyhow! Did my right ear say, Phew?
Then the Burmese PM told me he expected another plane to land shortly. I cleared the strip onto an area of dubious preparation.
About fifteen minutes later an Indian registered DC3 landed. Meanwhile, the PM had lined up my crew and me. With charm he introduced us to his Indian counterpart Jawaharlal Nehru.
Apparently, I impressed the Indian Prime Minister for he invited me to observe the talks. I gleefully rubbed my hands in anticipation of being in on the ground floor of such a momentous occasion, but later decided it was a waste of time and fuel. Nothing of any importance emerged and neither seemed to hold any intelligent conversation. They sat opposite one another with fixed grins that seemed a danger to their ears. My prime recollection was of their charming manners and beautiful white teeth. Each mouth did credit to its dentist!
Then the Burmese PM told me he expected another plane to land shortly. I cleared the strip onto an area of dubious preparation.
About fifteen minutes later an Indian registered DC3 landed. Meanwhile, the PM had lined up my crew and me. With charm he introduced us to his Indian counterpart Jawaharlal Nehru.
Apparently, I impressed the Indian Prime Minister for he invited me to observe the talks. I gleefully rubbed my hands in anticipation of being in on the ground floor of such a momentous occasion, but later decided it was a waste of time and fuel. Nothing of any importance emerged and neither seemed to hold any intelligent conversation. They sat opposite one another with fixed grins that seemed a danger to their ears. My prime recollection was of their charming manners and beautiful white teeth. Each mouth did credit to its dentist!
1954 Mingaladon, Rangoon. Two Prime Ministers meet again. The venue is more civilised as U Nu entertains his Indian counter-part Jawaharlal Nehru. (Photo: George Khin Maung Gyi)
