Flying experience - 1

This was taken by a passenger on a flight to Khatmandu in early 1972, inside the Viscount aircraft, while I was serving. I remember his name, a young French man called Michael Guillame. I guess the name is intriguing and so memorable. He had a camera (Minolta?), which allowed 36 exposures (right?) and happily took all 36 snaps of mine onboard while I was tending to the passengers. Not much security rules in those days!!!!!!!! Even though he sent me most of the snaps, this is the only one I have been able to save.

This is a Dakota aircraft - anyone seen it? Well, this is what newbies in Indian Airlines had to fly first before 'graduating' to bigger aircrafts like - viscount, boeings, caravelles, airbuses etc.  Dakota planes were not pressurised and so flew at a height of 8000 to 10,000 feet above sea level. These planes were termed to be safe planes and the other was the Fokker Friendship aircraft (pressurised).  So here I was on a flight Calcutta-Bhubaneswar-Vizag and back in the same route in the same day. One more thing - dakota flights had only one cabin crew/airhostess or steward, no place for more.
This used to be a total 8 hours flight - 2 hours from Cal-Bhu, then 2 hours from Bhu-Viz; and then equal number of flying hours on the return flight. A little after take-off from Cal or CCU (that was the codename for Calcutta), we flew above the Bay of Bengal till we reached BHU. Then again after take-off from BHU the route was above the sea continuously till we neared Vizag. The first lap was sometimes close to the shores but the next one drew further and further away from any coastline. Anyway, it was a usual flight and I was looking forward to a movie with my friend at night back in Cal. Not many passengers (pax) on this flight, mostly businessmen doing a hop, skip and jump schedule. I finished serving breakfast in the second lap and was just checking for stray trays or glasses, when a pax on the right side called me urgently. The first thought that came to my mind was 'this man wants to change his mind' stuff. As soon as I reached his side he uttered 'fire' and pointed outside the window. Yes sure enough I saw sparks of fire coming out from the engine on the right. My training (Indian Airlines did excellent training those days) expertise immediately came alive and I coolly told the pax -'not to worry. I shall talk to the pilots and get back to you.' I also enquired if he wished to have some more tea or coffee, which he declined (naturally!).
I sashayed (to give the impression of being in control) my way to the cockpit and on entering I realised everything was not alright. The captain looked up at me, heard me and then informed that the oil pressure had gone down in that engine and would have to be switched off before things turned dangerous. We were now to cling on to one engine to take us safely to land. I looked out of the cockpit window and only saw water, not even a shadow of shore anywhere. Of course, with one engine off, the plane had to fly lower and closer to the sea.
As everyone knows whenever the plane flies above water the cabin crew has an added drill to do - the life jacket (orange in colour) drill. The jackets used to be stacked under each seat of the Dakota.  Well, now I was thrilled that it was time to check the life jackets' credibility. The captain reassured me and told me to pacify the passengers and try and draw the covers on all the cabin windows. No panic. I say I was thrilled because I did not feel any fear (even today in retrospect I smell no fear), rather looked forward to a new adventure. My mind was wondering will there be sharks in the water, will all of us be able to stay afloat and wait till help arrived - all sorts of curious thoughts. Once I was out of the cockpit I was confronted with very disturbed passengers, walking up and down the aisle and peering out of each window on both sides. I knew I had a job to do. I announced on the PA for everyone to stay put, put on their life jackets and close the windows - no not as a command yet stern enough for them to know things were under control. Seeing no panic in my face probably calmed the pax but they pointed outside to the engines and looked enquiringly at me. By this time full blooded fire was spewing out on one side and the other engine was sputtering, as if giving warning that - 'I am about to blow off, too.'   And it was water, water everywhere, no coast in sight!
Who was I fooling? These were businessmen in their 40s, 50s and God knows how much, not a spindly 18-19 year-old girl trying to act big. Yes fear was written on each one's face and they more or less asked me together what were the chances of the life jacket saving us. Would the jackets prove to be a deterrent to lurking sharks? I remember I did my best to bring the temperature down in the cabin but I also knew they were right. Yet who do you blame in such a situation? Thankfully, some of them started praying and I guess that helped a lot. I was about to sit down and stare out the window at the threatening engines, when there was a call from the cockpit. I think I was a little relieved with that call - it would help me to exit the panic-filled cabin. Selfish thought? I think so.
As soon as I entered the cockpit, the commander told me to sit inside the cockpit for sometime. He was a middle-aged pilot with years of experience and probably understood the dilemma I must be going through. It was the first year of my flying - 1971, a greenhorn as the saying goes.
The commander, Captain D'Souza, kept talking to keep things normal inside (funny I do not remember the co-pilot's name, neither that of the radio officer) the cockpit. I remember he was talking about his 5 children at home in Bombay. How he missed them as he was stationed in Calcutta for sometime now. He probably even mentioned their names, I fail to remember but I distinctly remember he was a devout Catholic. He kept saying we will do our best and leave the rest to God. Of course, the pilots kept on their own technical talks going and at the same time the captain was helping me to come to terms with the situation. What a wonderful human being!
Did I mention we were at the PNR (point of no return) stage when the first engine cracked up? That is why the captain said he could not go back but just go ahead and land on the seashore, somehow.  But where was the shore? That seemed a billion dollar question and no one was coming up with an answer. The radio officer was frantically working on the radio passing information to and fro. Lots of advice, knowledgeable information kept coming. But ultimately, it was upto the captain and the sea shore to make it a success.
When we could finally spot the shores of Vizag in the distance, there was relief and joy, but only for a passing moment. The plane was just going down, you could practically feel the water lapping up hungrily, as if just waiting for us to drop into its abundant lap.   With both engines shut, it was a hit-and-miss situation, whether we would be able to reach the sandy shores before we gently thumped into the sea. The strain was evident on the faces of the pilots and radio officer; I was only focussing on the distant land and wishing it to come closer. Closer it did come and with it came another panic-filled reality - the plane would be doing a belly-landing (no wheels) on the hot, hot sands of Vizag in mid-moring. Would we survive or would the friction only help the whole plane to blow off in one single ball of flame?  Of course, we survived and I am here telling the story.
The recent Russian plane crash and my son's (Pavitra's) questioning of what must have been going on through the minds of the Russian plane passengers during those last moments, evoked this memory that happened in 1971. I know Indian Airlines must have congratulated Captain D'Souza in many ways than one, but I can never forget how he piloted us all to safety. God bless him.