'When I inquired if there were any pilot jobs I was greeted by hoots of laughter. 'No' one of them replied. 'Not unless you want your butt shot off'

'When I inquired if there were any pilot jobs I was greeted by hoots of laughter. 'No' one of them replied. 'Not unless you want your butt shot off'

Mike Mahon remembers applying as a pilot in the Congo.

Mike Mahon

Trinity College Dublin

1965

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Mike Mahon

Work and Employment

Life Story

Congo

1960s

I had been working as a trainee salesman for an office suppliers company in the east end of London. I was not very excited with the prospect of spending the rest of my life selling paper, ink and copy machines. I had a CPL (Civil Pilots license ) and this seemed infinitely more exciting. So, when I saw an add looking for pilots in the Congo I immediately applied. I was delighted to get an airline ticket via Brussels to Kinshasa for a job interview and resigned there and then. I flew from London to Brussels and presented myself at the Air Congo office. I was greeted by the local manager, a charactiture of Idi Amin, who I remember had two beautiful long legged secretaries straight out of Bay Watch. I was given a wad of Congolese Francs and headed of for Kinshasa. The Congo, had been a Belgian colony and recently obtained independence resulting in a fierce tribal as the province of Katanga tried to accede. There were six other potential applicants on that flight and on arrival we were met by the Chief pilot, a dour South African. He informed us we would be required to do an interview, a flight test and a medical, but unfortunately he could not offer us a job immediately . Air Congo had a huge fleet of piston engined DC4's , 6's and 7's but most of them were grounded for lack of spares. En masse we refused to do a medical when we saw conditions at the hospital, it was filthy and we all had valid European medical certs. So we were interviewed and all passed the flight test OK. But as there was only one flight a week back to Brussels , we had a few days to hang around. One day a few of us were sitting out on the balcony of the airport terminal sipping beers and discussing where to go next. One of the guys stood up produced a camera and proceeded to photograph a landing aircraft. Now this is one thing you do not do at an African airport. We warned him, but he brushed aside our advice. Sure enough, he was suddenly surrounded by a gang of soldiers brandishing sub machine guns and hustled of roughly. The rest of us sat quietly till they were gone the rushed down to the Chief pilots office. He let out a string of invectives, donned his uniform cap and rushed off downtown in his jeep to rescue the poor unfortunateWhile at the terminal had noticed there were other aircraft at the far side of the airport. Thinking it might be a cargo operation with possible jobs I decided to investigate. I obviously could not cross the airport so the only way was to walk around the perimeter which was a good few miles in the tropical heat. On getting there , there was a few decrepit hangers and a selection of all sorts of aircraft and helicopters. There was a bunch of guys in a motley selection of military style uniforms sitting in deck chairs sunning themselves, slugging beer and smoking what I took to be pot.  It was a scene straight out of Mash. When I inquired if there were any pilot jobs I was greeted by hoots of laughter. 'No,' one of them replied . 'Not unless you want your butt shot off. See this is a military operation, top secret. We're all mercenary pilots. We support whoever pays us,'They were all American, and I guess running some sort of covert operation for the Special Forces or the CIA. I left Kinshasa a few days later and arrived backing Brussels broke and disheartened. I still had a large amount of Congolese francs and when I tried to change them at the bank was told they were worthless.

Irish Research Council for Arts, Humanities & Social Sciences (IRCHSS)

Dr Kathleen McTiernan (Trinity College Dublin)

Dr Deirdre O'Donnell (Trinity College Dublin)