Trafford Publishing: Wings over Persia

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Wings over Persia

by Lou Martin

258 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); includes 26 photos.; catalogue #03-0470; ISBN 1-4120-0107-2; US$19.95, C$22.94, EUR16.39, £11.47

True story of intrigue and adventure of American pilot flying in Iran, during the revolution which overthrew the Shah and installed Ayatollah Khomeini as its Islamic dictator. With photos.

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About the Book About the Author Review Excerpts Catalogue Information

About the Book

WINGS OVER PERSIA provides a firsthand account of intrigue and adventure of an American pilot flying in Iran, during the revolution which overthrew the Shah and installed Ayatollah Khomeini as Iran's Islamic dictator.
Lou Martin was an air force pilot for 22 years and a captain for Japan airlines from 1970 to 1975, before joining a small cadre of foreign pilots in Iran hired to fly a variety of aircraft throughout the Middle East.
His passengers ranged from family members of the late Shah of Iran to high-ranking Iranian government officials, and oil field roughnecks. His observations relating to these flights are outlined in thrilling chapter after chapter. He invites the reader to mentally share his cockpit during these exciting flights.
Captain Martin was living and working in Iran during the disturbing days of 1978 when Islamic hard-liners rioted in the streets of Tehran demanding the overthrow of the Shah.
The tempo of the revolution increased to the point where thousands of demonstrators were killed by the Shah's army forcing him and his family to flee to Egypt. His abdication allowed the firebrand leader Ayatollah Khomeini to become Iran's despotic leader, and form a ruthless fundamentalist Islamic government. Several of Captain Martin's friends and colleagues were summarily tried and executed by the Islamic revolutionary guards.
During the peak of the revolution a personal friend was stabbed to death by unknown assailants, and fearing for his own life he hurriedly left Iran. His exodus forced him to abandon thousands of dollars of unpaid salary, a Volkswagen and other personal property.
In the spring of 1979 he was prepared to return to Iran in an attempt to recover lost property, but an extraordinarily lucky event in Rome, Italy, convinced him that returning to Iran would very likely expose him to arrest and confinement. Faced with this dismal probability he returned to the United States to pursue a safer and less exciting life.

"Congratulations on being the 2004 recipient of the Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame's Best Aviation writing by a Minnesotan! We enjoyed your exciting personal account of your days flying as a captain for an air charter company in Iran. Your book was exciting and personal, definitely the type of aviation writing the MAHOF wishes to honor and encourage with its annual award."
Duane Jacobson - Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame

About the Author

Lou Martin was born and raised in a small Midwest farming town in northern Wisconsin. He was the ninth of ten children of hard working German, Scotch and Irish parents.
He was thirteen years old when the Japanese military attacked Pearl Harbor and along with other young men his age, he contributed to America's victory to the extent his young years would allow. Before the war ended he collected scap metal, delivered Western Union Telegrams, worked as a railroad labourer and in a defense plant in Chicago.
A memorable event during the war years when, as a fourteen year old, he delivered telegrams to families informing them that their loved ones were killed in action or taken prisoner. He recalls that after being the bearer of such sad tidings he would leave lamenting family members with tears in his eyes.
He was working in Detroit, Michigan when the war with Japan ended and he recalls the victory celebrations with clarity. When in Detroit, at the age of seventeen, he obtained a private pilot's license.
In 1948 the air force was once again seeking aviation candidates, but it appeared he would not qualify as he did not possess the minimum educational requirement of two years of college. However, the air force stated they would accept young men for pilot training if they could successfully pass a two-year college equivalency exam.
Along with eleven other young men from the Midwest, he reported to Chanute AFB to be evaluated for acceptance for pilot training. Four of the twelve successfully completed the qualification requirements with two graduating a year and a half later as air force pilots.
He spent the next twenty-two years as an air force pilot, retiring in 1970 with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He flew a variety of aircraft, including large four-engine transports and single-engine jet fighters. A vigorous self-study program when a member of the air force allowed him to obtain a BS degree in Military Science from the University of Maryland.
From 1970 to 1975, he flew as a captain for Japan Domestic Airlines in Tokyo, Japan. His flying experiences in Japan were unique, as he flew a Japanese manufactured YS-11 turbo-jet transport with Japanese copilots and Japanese flight attendants. His years with Japan Airlines included flying with senior Japanese instructor pilots who had participated in the attack on Peal Harbor, December 7, 1941 and with former members of Kamikaze squadrons.
From 1976 to 1979, he flew as a captain for an air charter company in Tehran, Iran. On many of his flights in the Middle East, he transported the Shah's twin sister, his youngest brother, and high ranking government and military officers. Flights ranged from transporting high ranking Iranian VIPs to oil company roughnecks. He was caught up in the revolution that overthrow the Shah and made a hasty exit from Iran when his life was in danger.
After returning to the US he worked as a Falcon Fan Jet instructor in Napa, California, before accepting a position in 1980 as an air carrier inspector with the FAA in New York. In 1983, he transferred to the FAA office in Minneapolis with duties as a DC-9, B-727, and B-747 pilot examiner.
From 1992 to 1996, he was attached to the US Consulate Office in Frankfurt, Germany, where he served as the FAA Operations Unit Supervisor for the European International Field Office. In this position he worked closely with foreign aviation authorities and made two trips to Moscow, assisting Russian airlines in operating DC-10s and B-757s.
To round out his vast aviation experiences, he became an active warbird pilot with the Planes of Fame Air Museum, where he flew restored World War Two aircraft.
Lou Martin retired from professional flying in January 1999 with a total of 19,000 accident-free flight hours. However, he still flies his single engine Cessna and gliders with the Minnesota Soaring Club. He holds an FAA Flight Instructor's and Flight Engineer's certificate, is type-rated in nine different aircraft, possesses Airline Transport licenses from the US, Japan, and Iran, and is a proud member of the Experimental Aircraft Association. (EAA).

Reviews

Wings over Persia was of special interest to me. I am a pilot and have been interested in aviation since World War II. I found the book to be fun, informative, and easy to read.
Ms. Rae Nan Harmon, CFII (ret), volunteer Minnesota Zoo for 16 years, Bloomington, MN.

Lou Martin's book, Wings over Persia is a treasure. His insights about Iran and experiences are invaluable.
Robert B. Labe, Attorney, Williams, Williams, Ruby & Plunkett, P.C. Birmingham, MI.

Thank you for sending us a copy of your book, Wings over Persia. I normally only read "light fiction" books. Rarely, if ever, do I read nonfiction. However, a funny thing happened as I started into the book. It was as exciting and as interesting as any fiction story, and I found that often I couldn't put it down.
I read the book cover to cover, and thoroughly enjoyed it! From my standpoint Wings over Persia is an excellent book!
Ed. Headington, "Tracks to Adventure" Tour Director. Lakeland, Fl.

Wings over Persia is a very interesting book. I finished the first five chapters, but had to put it down because of time constraints. I didn't realize you were that diversified. Your book is on the reading table and the next time I get a chance to read it will be the first one I grab.
Joseph P. Steiner, D.D.S. Apple Valley, MN. 55124

I really appreciate the book, Wings over Persia. I picked it up, started reading it, and didn't put it down until I read it from cover to cover. It was a great book and I enjoyed it very much.
Don Enright, 142 Derby Ln. Branson, MO. 65616

Wonderful book about an exceptionally exciting life. Timely, interesting professionally written and an enjoyable read. Wings over Persia will occupy a prominent place in our home library, and I plan on sending copies to a number of friends who are interested in the Middle East, history, aviation and adventure. Your book addresses each of those areas in a very lively manner.
- Phil Steffes, Attorney, Steffes Law Office, LLC. Minneapolis, MN.
Having spent all my life in the aviation business, I read a lot of books on that subject. I think I have just about read them all. Your biography, "Wings over Persia" from farm boy to a very interesting life in aviation, I found to be exceptionally interesting, and a must read book by any standard.
- Les Torguson, retired FAA Inspector. Punta Gorda, FL.
Wings over Persia is a real page turner with true story telling as only Captain Lou Martin can do. The teasers early on only heighten your interest as to what is to come next. He gives the reader the benefit of the doubt that they have a working knowledge of aviation. The insight he brings to the culture of the Iranian people can only help one to understand the present world situation.
It has been my honor and pleasure to have Lou Martin as my instructor pilot on a number of Warbird flights and a memorable FAA check-ride.
- Al Pike, President / CEO, Amputee Resource Foundation of America, Inc. Minnetonka, MN.
Both my wife and I read Wings over Persia. We found your experiences in seeking the flying job and your enthusiasm to continue under very trying conditions very interesting. I think the final chapter says it all and a lesson to the non Muslim world was surely stated. I will recommend, "Wings over Persia" to my friends and colleagues.

- Larry K. Daudt, B-747-400 Captain, NWA, retired.

Excerpts

INTRODUCTION
In Wings Over Persia I hope to relive for the reader the many interesting and sometimes near disasters I encountered when flying for a charter company in Tehran, Iran. The company was indirectly owned by Reza Mohammed Pahlevi, the Shah of Iran. I was a memeber of a small cadre of foreign pilots approved to fly a fleet of approximately twenty-five aircraft throughout the Middle East.
Pilots employed to fly these aircraft underwent a thorough background investigation by the Iranian Savak (secret police), and were personally approved by the Shah. The reason for the strict security clearance was that many of my flights were into classified Iranian military installations, and involved transporting high ranking military and government officials. The aircraft I flew were the Fokker F-27, the American Fairchild FH-227, the French Falcon DA-20, and the Rockwell Turbo Commander 690A.
In addition to flying as a line captain, I administered flight instruction to young Iranian naval officers preparing them to qualify as aircraft commanders. Many of these aircraft were owned by the Iranian military and bore military markings. A classified operation I was involved in was the flying of long range Fokker F-27s in high altitude photo mapping of the Iran/Iraq border, where my main concern was the threat of being intercepted by Iraqi jet fighters.
Flights throughout the Middle East were never boring. Each day would be a different mission and require the flying of a different aircraft. One day I would be transporting roughnecks to the hot desert oil fields in southern Iran, the next day high ranking VIPs to the shores of the Caspian Sea, and possibly the third day, the Shah's twin sister of his younger brother.
I take the reader through my exhausting efforts to obtain a well paying job in Iran after my position as a captain for Japan Airlines in Toyko came to an end. The first two chapters are devoted to this frustrating struggle.
The reader will share with me the excitement of being part of the "Boomtown" atmosphere of Tehran in 1976, 1977, and 1978. During this exciting time there were more that fifty thousand foreigners living and working in Tehran. This large influx of foreigners supported Reza Shah Pahlavi's goal of modernizing Iran, much as Ataturk had done in Turkey.
Readers interested in avaiation will find the Iranian system of aircraft qualifiction quite unique and much different than what pilots go through in the United States. The level of expertise of Iranian pilots ranged from poor to excellent, depending on their training and their mental approach to mastering the skills required to pilot modern aircraft. Convincing many of them to adopt sound safety habits conflicted with their belief that everything is fixed in advance, and human beings are powerless to change events.
The Middle East philosophy, that nothing is a lie if the story is believed, was a difficult concept to accept, but once understood, made everyday life a game of telling a better story than your boss, merchant, or Iranian pilot collegue. This interesting concept of everyday life in Iran is prevalent throughout the book.
The troubling days of 1978 made life in Tehran interesting and sometimes dangerous. Islamic hard-liners rioted in the streets demanding the Shah's removal. The demonstators' goal was the creation of a fundamentalist Islamic state with the exiled Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini as their firebrand leader. Many of my flights during these difficult days were in support of the military in their fading attempt to prevent the overthrow of the Shah. Even though I was wearing civilian airline uniform, I often felt I was back in the Air Force flying combat support missions in South Vietnam.
The Shah's goal of modernizing Iran resulted in the expenditure of vast sums of Iran's oil wealth, but the benefits did not trickle down to the working poor. Anyone who disagreed with the Shah was forced to leave Iran or face the Savak, the Shah's brutal secret police force.
The Islamic fundamentalists did not agree with the Shah's "White Revolution" which allowed women to vote, hold jobs, and discard the long black flowing, head-to-toe, chadors. In fact they were morally offended by his attempts to adopt western culture. They considered it an affront to their Islamic religion. The fundamentalists seized on this discontent and preached to the masses that the Shah's goals were in violation of Muslim beliefs. When this discontent manifested in street riots, attempts to control it by the Shah's army resulted in the deaths of thousands.
During the initial phases of the revolution my busy flight schedule was maintained, including humanitarian flights to the earthquake striken city of Tabas, where twenty-five thousand people were killed. I also flew cases of whole blood to the survivors of a tragic theatre fire in Abadan, which had been set ablaze by rioters. During this late night flight my copilot became unconscious due to a lack of nourishment as a result of fasting during the holy month of Ramadan.
Several chapters are devoted to the struggles the Shah and his devoted followers exerted in their efforts to maintain control and how these efforts affected me personally. However, in late 1978 the demonstrators took over most government buildings and attacked all western owned businesses. In Novemeber 1978, a day known as "Black Sunday", Tehran went up in flames. With the city under martial law and most of the infrastructure destroyed, it became clear that my own life was in jeopardy, especially after an American friend of mine living in the city of Kerman was murdered in his apartment by unknown assailants.
I hurriedly left Tehran two weeks ahead of the Shah's departure for Egypt. During my unplanned exodus I abandoned a Volkswagon, personal property, and several months unpaid salary. I was, however, able to retrieve thirty thousand dollars (ninety thousand by today's rate) from a bank under siege and convert it, after considereable effort, into currency of several different western countries.
When the Shah was forced to flee in January 1979, the popular religious leader Ayatollah Khomeini triumphantly marched into Tehran. His arrival created a new round of riots as followers of the deposed Shah attempted to regain control. Under these conditions I didn't feel it safe to return to Iran to reclaim my losses, especailly after I learned that Iranian Revolutionary Guards summarily executed, by firing squad, several of my former VIP passengers and Iranian pilot collegues.
In April 1979, during a visit to Rome, Italy, I thought the internal situation in Iran had stabilized sufficiently to allow me to return. I visited the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Consulate office in Rome, Italy and applied for an entry visa. After a three day wait my visa was issued. However, an extraordinary lucky event occured that convinced me that returning to Iran was not a wise move. I returned to the United States with my unused visa intact.
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(CHAPTER TWO - REPORTING FOR WORK)
Following stops in Toyko, Hong Kong, Bangkok, and Bombay, I arrived in Tehran, Iran, during the early hours of January 3, 1976. After clearing customs, I was disappointed that there was no one at the airport to greet me. I called The Air Taxi Company to notify them that I had arrived and requested they send someone to pick me up. I talked to several different people, but no one knew of me or what my purpose was in requesting to visit their company. I finally gave up and with the assistance of the airport information desk hired a taxi to drive me to my new place of employment.
The taxi was required to stop at the company security gate and not allowed to proceed into the compound. I paid off the driver, retrieved my two bags from the trunk, and stood waiting while the non-English speaking guard made a telephone call for guidance.
About ten minutes later Mr. Montpass (the personnel manager I had met six months earlier) arrived and welcomed me to Tehran. He said that if I had advised them of my arrival date he would have had someone meet me at the airport. I told him that I had sent several messages regarding my pending arrival and that I was on schedule. His response, "Insha Allah," and helped my place my bags in his Volkswagon wan.
{The expression "Insha Allah" was to become very familiar during my life in Iran. A literal translation would be, "If Allah wishes" or "As Allah commands." Except for the reference to Allah, the connotation is similar to the song made famous by Doris Day called, "Que Sera, Sera," "Whatever will be will be." In contrast, an amusing expression employed by many men, when they wish to imply disagreement to a thought or idea, is a snapping sound from their lower lip in concert with an abrupt upward movement of their chin. I asked my copilots to explain the meaning of this gesture and with a chuckle, they said it meant, "Kiss the camels ass."}
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(CHAPTER THREE - AIRCRAFT CHECKOUT)
The aircraft I was to fly this day was an F-27-200. It had a 95 foot wingspan, was 82 feet long, powered by two Rolls-Royce Dart turboprop engines producing 2000 HP each, had a 42,000 pound gross weight, a seating capacity of 44, and cruised at 275 miles per hour. After two hours of concentrated cockpit self study I found I could locate most controls and switches without too much hunt and peck. I figured I was ready for the colonel! After a short pee and tea break I and my young jump seat observer were standing at the front of the aircraft awaiting Colonel Madina.
From a distance, I observed a blue military staff car speeding across the airport ramp and heading in our direction. Its headlights were on bright and a red rotating beacon was warning onlookers to get out of the way. The brightly polished car came to an abrupt stop next to an aircraft and the driver rushed to open the rear door. With a mechanical-like movement he snapped open the door, clicked his heels, came to attention, and popped a salute to the emerging colonel.
Colonel Madina was a dapper man of about forty, about six feet tall, a slim 180 pounds, had a neatly trimmed black moustache, wore large dark sunglasses, and dressed in a tailor made dark blue flight suit that was decorated with colorful military unit patches. Around his neck was an immaculate white silk scarf. Topping off this eye snapping appearance was a large garrison military cap decorated with gold rope trim. His feet were encased in brightly polished black boots. His appearance was very impressive and would put the Blue Angels or Thunderbird Pilots to shame.
He thrust out his hand while stating "Salam-U-Alaikum" (God be with you, peace). He was surprised when I responded with, "Wa Alaykumus Salam" (Thank You, an expression I had just learned from the young Iranian jump seat observer). In fluent English he said "You must be Captain Martin, pleased to meet you." I echoed his sentiments and he asked me if the aircraft preflight had been completed? I told him no as I was waiting to see what his requirements were. He nodded in agreement while instructing me to preflight the right side while he did the left. He added that when we were finished, we would meet in the cockpit.
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(CHAPTER TWELVE - REVOLUTIONARY CRISIS)
I asked him about the Saudi Arabian jets I sometimes observed on the island and the occasional bikini clad young women I would see lounging around the hotel swimming pool. He chuckled at my question, and replied that if I took note, I would probably observe that the bathing beauties presence would coincide with the presence of Saudi jets on the parking ramp.
He called my attention to the fact that the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia were only thirty minutes flying time from Kish Island, and had become a favorite rest and recreation destination for Arab sheiks. He added that when I saw Saudi jets parked on the airport parking ramp, I could expect to see the hotel swimming pool flush with attractive females. The women were from Madame Claude's sophisticated call-girl business in Paris.
He explained that the Arab men visiting Kish Island shuck their turbans and robes before leaving their aircraft, and head for the hotel for two or three days of gambling, drinking, and enjoying the company of young French women. When they can take no more, they don their Arab dress, fly back to Saudi Arabia, and resume their pious Muslim life style.
On one of my trips to Kish Island there were no visiting Arabs in residence, so my English caretaker friend took me on a tour of the resort complex. It was indeed opulent in every respect, and certainly equal or better than anything in Las Vegas. After the overthrow of the Shah, Iran touted Kish Island as a tropical tourist spot. It even has a university. However, gambling casinos, bars, or visiting French bikini clad young women are a thing of the past.
When I parked my F-27 in front of the terminal at Khark Island, the usual red carpet was rolled out from the terminal main gate. A few minutes later, Prince Pahlavi, his wife, and about ten high ranking military admirals, generals, and their wives, followed him towards the aircraft.
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(CHAPTER FIFTEEN - BLACK SUNDAY)
I dropped the flight attendant off near her apartment and was pleased when her husband, seeing her alight from the car, greeted her with a big smile and hug.
I drove unto the Shahanshah (King of Kings) expressway, one of the few four lane highways in Tehran, and headed south towards the center of the city. The expressway was laid out in a man made valley, well below ground level, so my view of the city was restricted to distant skylines only. I could see numerous plumes of smoke rising in the blue sky, but street level scenes were shielded by the high sloping highway shoulders.
I exited the expressway for a main street that I normally used en route to my apartment. As I crested the uphill exit, my eyes bulged when I saw the chaos I had driven into. A military truck was burning fiercely on its side in the middle of the street. Not far away an army jeep was turned upside down and also on fire. Roving gangs of youthful demonstrators were bending steel road signs back and forth until they broke off. They were using these steel rods as improvised crow bars to break open steel screens protecting shops and banks.
From the shops, already broken into, demonstrators were removing desks, chairs, file cabinets, and anything else not nailed down, and throwing them into roaring fires in the middle of the street.
Motorists like myself, who had exited into this chaos, formed a slow moving single file on the north side of the street, where the melee seemed less violent. I took off my airline blouse and threw it to the floor in fear lest some young bearded demonstrators, with eyes dilated in rage, confuse me with a member of their hated military. Several demonstrators gave my car a curious once over, but I believe my Iranian license plates and bright shining headlights caused them to find mischief elsewhere.
I followed the slow moving line of cars while anxiously looking for an opportunity of escaping onto a side street. I began to hear the rat-a-tat-tat of gun fire and could now see soldiers attempting to gain control of the mob. They were wearing gas masks, armed with fixed bayonets, and firing tear gas into the unruly crowd.

Catalogue Information