A personal account by Chas Hall.

During November 1961, whilst serving with the RAF, I was posted to Christmas Island in the Pacific.

During the first leg of the flight, on a British United civilian chartered aircraft, I became friends with Taff, a Welshman. He was fortunate enough to been posted at Hickam in the Hawaiian Islands. We arrived, in Singapore during the early hours of morning. It was very hot. I spent less than an hour on the beach enjoying the early morning sun and a swim, however, I became very sunburnt.

After a few days, we were introduced to a four engined RAF Hastings – commonly known by the RAF as a Hastybird. We boarded, together with 18 British Servicemen and a green uniformed Australian woman who was cadging a lift back to her homeland. The destination was Darwin in Australia.

Unfortunately, the aircraft had a few problems. The first day, the tail wheel had jammed. We all disembarked. The second day, the rear door would not lock; again we all disembarked. The third day, magneto problems, we all disembarked.

The fourth day it took off, but near the point of no return – almost at the halfway position of its destination – one of its engines packed up, and the Hastybird had to jettison fuel to lighten its load. We landed back at Singapore with three engines working. It was too much for the Australian woman, in her green scout uniform. She couldn’t put up with it anymore. She hadn’t been brainwashed about the excellent safety record of the aircraft as we had. With no sign of being genteel, she parted company with, ’Bugger this for a lark! I’m going with Qantas!’ She had seemed made of sterner stuff. Amongst the group of passengers, there is always someone of a superstitious nature, with comments like; ‘Maybe we’re better off without a green Jonah!’

It was to become the fifth departure before we finally reached our destination at Darwin Australia. From there, we journeyed to Amberly, near Brisbane and on to Nadi in the Fijian Islands.

However, it was on the final leg of the journey that the Hastybird had one more game to play.

Turbulence is caused when warm air rises and cold air descends rapidly, to take its place. It sometimes makes aircraft shudder and drop suddenly and the effect on passengers can be discomforting and unpleasant. The toilet compartment on the Hastings was situated right at the tail end of the plane. It was small but adequate. On this long flight, the only exercise that could be had, was the short walk from seat to toilet, and back again. This gave some relief to stiff muscles and joints unused to being kept immobile for so long.

When the turbulence hit, I had spent about five or ten minutes in this small cubicle and thus missed the hand-written warning note that had been passing around; causing everyone to refit their seat belts.

It was pure luck that upon leaving the compartment, my hand was gripped very firmly on the handle of the door. The sudden drop of the aircraft took me by surprise. I managed to maintain a hold on the door but my legs shot upwards. It was like a fast descending lift. Every time it was possible to try to stand up, the same thing happened again, and my legs shot up from beneath me. This happened time and time again, until I became resigned to the situation. I slowly lowered myself to the floor, hand over hand, whilst gripping the edge of the toilet door for dear life. Four of the relief air crew were about 8 feet away. They lay on inflatable air beds, which were affixed to the deck of the cabin, and they viewed events with amused indifference.

The turbulence did not bother them in the slightest. In fact, they seemed to enjoy it. As the aircraft dropped, they remained suspended two or three feet above their air beds for a brief second, as if by some magical power, and then they dropped down again onto their beds. It seemed to be a long time that I was trapped in that ridiculous position – looking at the smiling relief crew.

Beyond them, my eyes wandered towards the concerned, but fascinated gaze of the passengers, who all sat facing the tail end of the plane, watching the whole performance. It probably lasted no longer than fifteen minutes, but when I eventually arrived back at my seat, still feeling a bit conspicuous, Taff questioned in a manner, as though he considered me to be the main attraction on this long boring journey; ‘Taken to hanging onto the shit-house door for a bit of fun now – have we?’ I wondered if anything ever went wrong for him.

As Taff and I parted company, we didn’t know it then, but we would be reunited in the shadow of the hydrogen bomb.

My book,’ Facing Armageddon’ complete with many unpublished photos, covers my years posting away from home in the UK, and is available both in print and audio format. Facing Armageddon by Chas Hall can be bought from: https://grubstreet.co.uk/product/ facing-armageddon/. It can also be bought from all the major high street book sellers as well as online. Search for: Facing Armageddon by Chas Hall or ISBN: 9781911667889.