Living the Dream!

This is the story of my life, from childhood struggles with polio to leaving home at seventeen for an apprenticeship with British Aircraft Corporation, working on the iconic Concorde. My career path took me through Westland Helicopters and British Rail, before a 22-year career at British Airways in London, where I became a Senior Airline Engineer, licensed to maintain a fleet of company aircraft.

After that, I turned to flying for pleasure and eventually became a Chief Flying Instructor, starting my own flying school. Over 36 years of training pilots, I experienced fourteen engine failures, three near misses, and two bird strikes—the most dramatic being a fight with a buzzard that smashed through the windscreen, hitting my student in the face, leaving him with a black eye and a split lip, and ending up draped around his neck like a scarf. I also survived a cockpit fire shortly after takeoff that burned my left leg.

Then there’s the story of a mild-mannered, religious pilot who became a good friend. He once told me about the day his ejection seat failed during a jet spin-out, sending him plummeting toward the ground. Resigned to death, he was saved by a voice in his head that he believed was God, offering the solution just in time.

Dicing With Death

While there was terrorist-related activity happening somewhere in Northern Ireland daily, Belfast bore the brunt of it, and the two-mile stretch of road between Willie’s home and the school had more than its share. He travelled that corridor of death to and from school every day. In school, he was prepared to put his life on the line protecting the rights of disaffected young people. He tried to keep the older boys out of the arms of the IRA, who would recruit them into the Fianna (Junior IRA), and out of reach of the security forces who would arrest them for petty crimes and then release them on condition that they became informers. He was ready to protect them against all comers. He walked the middle ground, neither on one side nor the other. The police and the soldiers were professionals. They could look after themselves. He did not support the IRA, nor take orders from them, nor allow himself to be used by them. He saw his role as protecting the young people in his care. He was walking on quicksand, knowing that if he put a foot wrong, he could vanish without a trace.