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Flag of India.

     And while I’m pontificating on my soapbox, dear reader, allow me to give you one more example of the Singaporean–Chinese penchant for obstinate face saving.

     I was performing a Madras, India, round-robin on 26th March 1988, with another Chinese Captain whom I had never flown with.  We were operating a 747-312 with the new PMS.

     Oh no, dear reader, this doesn’t stand for “premenstrual syndrome.“  Shame on you!  PMS refers to the “Performance Management System“ computer – whereby an entire flight plan could be loaded at once into the INS with all its many waypoints – then coupled with the autopilot. 

     Our route took us up the Malacca Strait, then across the Bay of Bengal for a straight run to Madras on the East Coast of India.  Our total flight time, out and back, was 7.5 hours, plus another hour on the ground at Madras.  We would conduct this flight entirely at night; returning to Singapore at dawn.

     All was going well, until we approached the Nicobar Islands at 35,000 feet, lying in the black void far below.  That’s when I discovered our PMS computer had been loaded - by the technicians at Flight Ops - with a disturbing error.

     Consulting the Instrument Enroute Chart for airway B 466, five minutes out from waypoint “ANOKO,“ the chart indicated our next waypoint was “APASI,“ 107 nautical miles in front of us.  As a double-check, I examined the hard copy of our flight plan - making the startling discovery that “APASI“ had been erroneously replaced with “TOSOK!“  A waypoint we had already crossed 169 nautical miles behind us!  I then checked the PMS computer – sure enough, the same error had been loaded in the PMS. 

     So what did this mean, dear reader?  It meant that when we crossed “ANOKO,“ the PMS would direct the autopilot into a wild 180° turn – tracking us back to “TOSOK“ behind us!

The wild PMS 180 back to Waypoint "TOSOK."

     I therefore elected to alert my Chinese Captain to this problem.  The conversation went exactly like this:

     Me:  “We’ve got a problem.“

     Capt:  “No problem...no problem.“

     Me:  “Captain...we’ve got a problem.“

     Capt:  “No problem...no problem.“

     I couldn’t believe my ears, dear reader.  It was Hong Kong Kai Tak once again; confronting me with the Chinese culture of denial.  Which was all about a “loss of face.“  This hardheaded imbecile would prefer to lose his ass, than lose face.  The lunatic that placed this idiot in command of a 747, capable of transporting and losing 400 lives, was further proof that the lunatics were running the insane asylum.   

     Please forgive me, dear reader, but experience has taught me that all airlines are insane asylums; that’s why they throw away good people and constantly flirt with bankruptcy.

     We were over water, in a hugely empty section of airspace with no conflicting air traffic.  So instead of jumping in and taking command – saving the day and getting myself fired – I elected to put my feet up, sip my coffee, and watch this big surprise descend on my Chinese Captain.  I‘m merely an interested spectator – no longer a participant.

     When we crossed “ANOKO,“ just as I anticipated, the PMS launched us on a wild-ass, left 180° turn - taking us back to “TOSOK!“

     Completely caught off-guard, my Chinese Captain acted as if he’d been hit by a MAC truck materializing out of the night!  Hands and arms flailing as he punched off the autopilot – then rolled us from the erroneous left 180° to a right 180° turn – he was in a sweating, shaking struggle to get headed back in the proper direction and on course, giving the passengers a wild “Dutch-roll.“  My captain was so terrified, he was unable to utter a word.

     Regardless of his “face-saving“ denial, dear reader, “Captain Idiot“ was forced to realize that we in fact had a “problem.“

     As for me, I didn‘t offer any verbal or physical assistance.  My “face-saving“ Chinese Captain had readily demonstrated he wasn’t interested in my help.  So I sipped my coffee, and enjoyed the drama unfolding beside me, while mildly amused at my white, shaky, sweaty captain’s struggle to get us back on course.

     This event rattled my Chinese Captain so badly that he missed TOD (Top Of Descent) for Madras.

     Of course I spotted the TOD, dear reader, and neglected to inform him.  Obviously he wasn’t interested in communicating with me – so why bother him?

Approaching Madras in a descent.

Madras International.

     As I expected, when we reached the airport, we were way the hell too high; requiring him to make two 360°s in order to lose the excess altitude.  More thrilling maneuvers for the passengers.  It buried him even deeper in the “loss of face“ department.  

On Final for Runway 07.

     When we got on the ground, my fearless Chinese Commander blamed all his serious fuck-ups on the Indian ATC Controllers.  That was his lame “face-saving“ way out.  Leading to another weakness I was discovering regarding the Chinese: they never man-up and take responsibility for their actions.  This discovery would help me out of a sticky situation at Kunming, Red China, when dealing with the communist authorities, which I’ll relate in the next chapter.   

     Wisely I made no comment, dear reader, as I flew the leg back to Singapore.  Praying fervently, I would never fly with, or see, this lame captain again.  Fortunately my aviator’s Fairy Godmother answered my prayers.

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