The show goes on.
Almost two years to the day that marked the anniversary of the hijacking ,May 8th 1972, I found myself on a Sabena Boeing 707 bound for Rome. this time I was a passenger ,in company with my Chief Pilot and friend, Marcel Vanderverren, bound for Rome where we were both to undergo our Simulator training that would prepare us for our conversion on to the newly acquired fleet of DC10's that Sabena had recently purchased. I had spent nearly all of the last two years flying for Sabena from Johannesburg to Brussels but being based in South Africa. The Company had deemed this wise and treated me with the utmost consideration but, of course, it had meant a huge change in our lives. However we were back in our own home in Brussels where I was faced with the choice of continuing as a Captain on the 707 or opting to fly on the newly purchased DC10. I had to promise to stay on the DC10 for at least three years in order that the Company could realise their investment in training me. It had always been my ambition, even my dream , to eventually fly the 747 but I was not quite high enough in the seniority at that time in order to bid for them. The bidding system in Sabena was, broadly enough, similar to most Aviation Companies. As vacancies on an aircraft appeared, Pilots were asked, in strict order of seniority in the Company, whether they would like to bid for that aircraft. This would often mean a change in sectors as well. In return the Pilot had to promise to stay on that aircraft for the time laid down by the Company and could not bid again until that time had elapsed. I had reasoned that I was 52 at the time of bidding for the DC10, could fly on it for the statuary three years then if, and IF was the operative word, there was a vacancy on the 747 and the coveted Transatlantic Sector then I would still be able to complete the madatory four years, on this aircraft, before reaching the normal retiring age of 60. It says everything for my relationship with "Lady Luck" that it turned out exactly like that.
I was accepted for training on the brand new DC10 and had the enjoyable experience of going to Ostia, near Rome ,for my Simulator training and then to Yuma, Arizona, where Douglas had an airfield, for the Aircraft training. The Simulation of flying had reached the level where you could practically fly the aircraft itself before you stepped into it.. The DC10 embraced a completely new concept in flying, where instrument flying was of the utmost importance, but I found no difficulty in adapting and looked forward to Arizona and the flying of the aircraft itself.
Anytime I see "Spaghetti Vongole" on a menu I am immediately transported to Ostia. Our Chief Pilot , Marcel, was training with me. He was a schoolboy in England during the war, had an English Wife and was a great friend who had helped me with many problems of the stressful times of the Hijack. It was he who found us the wonderful Restaurant in Ostia where the three crews who were training there would repair to each evening. Your evening meal was swimming around in enormous tanks as you entered the place Trouble was that by the time it appeared in front of you on a plate it felt as though you were greeting an old friend. Not that it stopped us enjoying the wonderful cuisine. ! The Vongole consisted of the most exquisite mixture of clams, shrimps, prawns, oysters, crab, lobster..if it swam in the Med., it was there.
The Simulator Course was rigorously but efficiently given to us by the Al Italia and the Douglas Instructors and was very comprehensive but enjoyable.
After the successful completion of the Simulator course , three crews comprising three Captains, three First officers and three Flight Engineers together with our Chief, Marcel, flew by our own Company to New York ,then crossed America to Los Angeles and then flew by the famous Howard Hughes Airline to the small town of Yuma, Arizona where Douglas had their own field for training crews.
We disembarked out of the small DC9 that had brought us from L.A. and walked out into the searing heat of Arizona. A gentleman with "Douglas" emblazoned on his bright pink blazer welcomed us. "Hi, there" he said. "Welcome to Yuma." He handed us three sets of keys. "These are the keys to your automobiles " he said "They are waiting outside the gate. Your Hotel is the only one, it's three miles down the road". He gave us three credit cards. "When you need gas, use these Any filling station will do. They all know about you. Have a good day. " With that he disappeared into the sunset and, with the exception of one of our number, we never set eyes upon him again. The three cars were great big , brand new Chevrolets and we got great pleasure out of using them. After hours of flying the great DC10 we would explore the desert which surrounded the small town of Yuma. We would drive for hours on end just drinking in the magnificent Desert scenery. One nameless Captain drove a few miles too far, one day and inadvertently crossed the border into Mexico and finished in a Mexican jail where he languished until our Douglas Rep. , still in his pink blazer, eventually got them out several hours later.