Installment #1  Heading for Africa

The ungodly loud sound of large, troop carrying Russian turboprops greeted my
sensitive ears as I stepped sleepily off Air France flight 089 from Paris to
Luanda, Angola, Africa.

This was Illuysion & Antonov territory as the remnants of former Russian &
Cuban support to this war torn country attested. The only American plane
visible besides a couple of U.S. built airliners was a C-130 Hercules, undergoing
extensive overhaul in one of the main hangars lining the parking apron. The
field was jumping with activity of one sort or another.

The heat was not as oppresive as I imagined it would be. After a couple of
years in T'Chad, the Angolan temperatures were absolutely balmy and welcomed.

Milling about in shouted conversation on the tarmac at the bottom of  the
boarding ladder before me were a couple of hundred oil field workers on their
sad way into the country. Their tours ranged anywhere from three weeks to six
months depending on who they pissed off & how much. Taking my place among
them, we all waited to board one of several buses to take us to the dreaded
Customs & Immigration located in the terminal.

I was one of the sad ones, except I was a pilot, here to fly Cessna Mixmasters for a
questionable "company" out of Florida in the good old US of A.

After a long wait in line to check for my name to appear on the manifest, we
boarded the buses for a ride to the terminal. The Customs & Immigration check-
in point smelled of goat piss & unwashed men from two days of airliner
flying. We stood sedately and patiently in line waiting our turn to have our
bags turned inside out. Armed guards stood nearby waiting for any of us to
get out of line or just plain run out of patience. After a three hour
paperwork shuffle wait, we were allowed to retreat to the non-airconditioned
"lounge" to sweat in patient anxiety. The key word here being "patient."

Through the unwashed & smeared lounge windows, we were looking for a SONANGOL
727 to make its appearance on the ramp for our flight to the oil fields in
the north near the Congo River. SONANGOL is the state run Angolan oil company.

Our destination was a lovely place just 5 degrees south of the equator called
Cabinda. Just north of there was Malongo, a major oil camp run by Chevron,
Gulf & several other oil companies. Most of my companions were headed to
Malongo to start their mostly dreaded tours of duty. I was headed to my
company's base at Cabinda but would then have to fly to Soyo in one of the
company Mixmasters to begin my tour there; about a twenty minute flight . . .