Cherry Blossoms, Blood and a Blue Sky

INTRODUCTION ‑ Welcome Aboard! Fasten Your Seatbelt!

            (It may be a bumpy ride.)

Old‑fashioned hero worship in me created this saga of a little group of Americans at the mercy of economics, who were tossed out into the world, and while there tried to better it. They personified my idea of the many unsung heroes who we never get a chance to know or appreciate. These were aviation afficionados with a contract in Japan and the Boeing 727 in common. Here are just a few.

Scott Houston. He reminded one of a man born a hundred years too late. He looked like an old Indian scout and he played the five‑string banjo, his fly rod and his airplane like there was no tomorrow. He was from northern California and possibly one of the world's greatest aviators. The U.S. Navy trained him for his aviation career. Pan American World Airways lost him along the way.

Edwin Case Powell. He was a cast‑off rancher from west Texas near Abilene and had trained in the air at his grandfathers ranch crop dusting. He wore cowboy boots with his airline uniform which was not exactly corporate dress code for the airlines. He left his heart in San Francisco.

Edwardo Vincent Viscardi, a third generation Sicilian and a rather handsome one at that. His classical guitar talents came from the old country and he was an artiste on the instrument. Those talents had been used for a few notables in Hollywood such as Henry Mancini. He had gotten into commercial aviation on a lark and his private pilot's license.

Cody Mills. He was a short, stocky, blond elf with an all American 'boynext door exuberance. His first name was actually Collier, but no one dared use it and maintain safety. Cody taught me my first Japanese phrase, 'shimpai nai', which means'don't worry about it!' He loved motorcycles, airplanes, life and his home state Wyoming.

Marc Duncan. The A‑typical airline pilot playboy. There are only a few left these days. The business became too technical and serious to support his kind. He was married to an ex‑stewardess and that combination sometimes makes for poor bed‑fellows.

Richard Bonham and a companion 'wanna‑be' playboy to Duncan, but he was based in Tokyo and didn't get to play the same games at the same places except occasionally and then the party got down right interesting.

Last but not least, Chopper Hopper. He was a reject from TWA and from the heart of Tennessee and pure country class. He lived on contracted airline jobs around the world, bumping his butt on runways wherever. In Japan he hung out at American movies and always carried a cache of food from home. I loved that guy. He was always up even on the ground.

Sally. Me, myself and 1, the narrator and story‑teller of this saga.

This is a story of aviation and a few men who stood by. ‑aviation safety principles. In the cockpit a person must be willing to place their life or job on the line in defense of safe air travel and their highest convictions must be honored with relation to air safety. Fearless aviators in the past did just that. They demanded it and there are still those in the industry today who demand it. These stories are dedicated to those brave souls whever they may be.

It is my objective to present different scenarios revealing the courage and stamina of the resolute American and how they still exert their pioneer heritage in a high‑tech age and can adapt whever they may be called to go in this world or out of it.

I trust a little ray of truth shines through where we will be flying. If I have invaded anyone's airspace, just put me off on the next cloud. Sally

That great ball of flame, the national symbol of Japan, was hidden today, its golden glory covered by dark, gray clouds hovering over the islands. Their slow, cosmic motion suddenly evolved into live action with a blinding flash of visual, ultra light, then audio cracks of thunder vibrating across the sky. White jagged streaks of lightning punctured the heavens and were soon followed by a deafening sound. The instant moments of light spotlighted the drab scene below. People who were unprotected down on the busy streets scurried into any one of a string of tiny shops for shelter as the first pellets of rain fell.

In only a few seconds a thunderstorm was in full session with heavy rain pouring out of the heavens onto Haneda International Airport, Tokyo, as the flight crew of Asahi Airlines, Flight 419, prepared for an approach to landing. The captain in command was Nobu Miako, better known as 'Sister Mary'. He had acquired that epithet when the American pilots learned he had studied for the ministry before becoming a commercial pilot. He was a squat, balding, little man with rather heavy features for a northern Japanese. Normally retirement age with the company was 55, but Miako had connections in high places and had been able to stay on in capacity of check pilot. He also filled in as a flight crew member on occasion. This was one.

For some unknown reason, he bid mostly with the American flight engineers who were flying there on contract. Perhaps it was his memory of the big war or the staid custom of the Japanese to respect conquerors.

1

Captain Miako's First Officer, or co‑pilot, on this flight was Kenji Nozaki, a very young man. Kenji had just given the captain the weather report, which was obviously poor. Measured ceiling 400 feet, broken 1100 feet