Features
IN RETROSPECT
by Dr Nihal Jayawickrama
I had always thought that autobiographies were written after retirement. I hope this request from the LAW MEDIA for the story of my life, or more particularly, my experiences before Hong Kong, is not a gentle reminder that my time is up. I prefer to think that you simply wish to get to know better the only South Asian on the Faculty or are curious to know why a lawyer wants to teach law rather than practise it.
One of the earliest decisions I made in my life was to be a lawyer. I was not yet nine. All my older relatives, including my father, were lawyers, and it did not seem as if I had any choice in the matter. Where I did have a choice was regarding what I would do after becoming a lawyer. I would never be a law teacher or a civil servant; I only wanted to be a practitioner. But “God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform”, and life did not quite turn out the way that I had intended it to be.
I read law for three years at the University of Ceylon, on a picturesque, residential campus, nestling among the tea plantations, high in the mountains of central Sri Lanka. Sir Ivor Jennings, vice-chancellor, had, on 3,500 acres of lush tropical vegetation, created for the Arts and Law Faculties a veritable ivory tower, away from all the mundane activities of city life.
Through it flowed the Mahaweli, Sri Lanka’s longest river, whose secluded sandy banks offered a welcome retreat from contracts, torts and trusts. It was there that I “proposed” to my future wife, with dire consequences. Her parents, to whom she dutifully communicated this fact, promptly removed her from the campus. They were not impressed by a potentially briefless barrister. A negotiated settlement, with severe restraints upon my movements, enabled her to resume her academic career.

With Shirle Amarasinghe, Permanent Representative and Deputy Perm Rep. Yogasunderam at UN General Assembly in 1972
A further year of study at the Ceylon Law College, and six months apprenticeship, and I was a fully qualified Advocate (as barristers are referred to in Sri Lanka). I wanted to take my oaths before my uncle, a Judge of the Supreme Court, who had brought me up after my father’s death when I was quite young. He was then presiding over a controversial criminal trial which later found its way into the law reports as The Queen v. Liyanage (1965) 1 All ER 42. He took the unusual step of sitting in another court for five minutes for the purpose of admitting me to the Bar. Ten days later, the Liyanage Bench dissolved itself, holding that it had no jurisdiction to sit as the Supreme Court since it had been nominated to do so by the Minister of Justice. I often wondered what my position would have been had I been admitted by that “court”.
I spent eight very happy years at the Bar. I learnt my way around as a junior in the chambers of several successful lawyers, each specializing in different areas: original court work, criminal appeals, tax law, industrial law, and judicial review. At the end of the third year, I felt confident enough to step out on my own; to decline appointment as a Crown Counsel; and to get married.
The next five years were spent almost entirely in the appeal courts where, much to my satisfaction, I found myself appearing in court daily. A short break enabled me, on a UNESCO Fellowship, to spend a few months as a member of the legal staff of the International Commission of Jurists in Geneva. There, under a remarkable man, Sean MacBride, then Secretary-General and later a Nobel peace prize winner, I was initiated into the world of human rights law. Back in Ceylon, I found myself becoming increasingly involved in legal work on behalf of the Sri Lanka Freedom Party, which was then in Opposition (and consequently, in several political trials), and in the activities of the Bar Council to which I had been elected as representative of the junior bar and then as its secretary.
At the 1970 general election, I represented Mrs. Bandaranaike, the SLFP leader, as her counting agent. When, in the early hours of the morning, I reported back to her that she had won her seat by a comfortable majority, the other results made it clear that she would be the country’s next Prime Minister. Forty eight hours later, she invited me to accept office as Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Justice, a position hitherto held by senior judges. It was a difficult decision to make. It meant abandoning the Bar where I was not only very happy, but also well settled. Finally, with an assurance from the Prime Minister that what she expected of me was a programme of radical law reform, and that I would have a completely free hand, I accepted the challenge.
The Secretary for Justice was the head of the Ministry of Justice, the Minister being a member of parliament and not necessarily a lawyer. The departments under the Ministry, which the Secretary was required to supervise, included those of the Attorney General, Legal Draftsman, Public Trustee, Government Analyst, Bribery Commissioner, Commissioner of Prisons, the Law Commission, the Courts and the Conciliation Boards. The heads of these departments, as well as my assistant secretaries, were all much older than I, and were all males. The latter deficiency was soon rectified by the appointment of a woman barrister as the secretary of the Law Commission. Once more, the unexpected happened. Following the sudden death of the Attorney General, I was required to leave my one-week-old job and move to another. On my 33rd birthday, I took my oath of office as Attorney General.
I spent seven eventful, exciting, tension-filled years in the Ministry of Justice. In a sense, they were years of achievement: the drafting of a new constitution that brought into being the Republic of Sri Lanka; the abolition of the right of appeal to the Privy Council and the establishment in Sri Lanka of a Court of Final Appeal; a new courts structure, including a Constitutional Court for the reviewing of bills; new criminal, civil and appellate procedure laws; the transition from English to Sinhala and Tamil also as the languages of the original courts; the fusion of the two branches of the legal profession; and the expansion of the concept of conciliation.
In another sense, they were also years of recrimination: a highly publicized encounter with the Supreme Court which culminated in my being ordered by the Chief Justice to leave the Bar Table at a ceremonial sitting of the court; a prolonged conflict with the Bar which could not understand why one of its “own” would want to change so radically the life-style of the profession, and even threaten to introduce “barefoot lawyers”, and suggest the control of fees; and an insurrection that filled the prisons (and two universities which were converted into prisons) with 18,000 idealistic young men and women who believed that they could take control of the government by the simple device of attacking all the police stations in the country in one night.
This latter enterprise resulted in my being designated under the Public Security Ordinance as “competent authority” for the release of detainees – an exercise that was extended over four years, much to the indignation of Amnesty International, the International Commission of Jurists and other human rights activist groups in many of which I was a member.
While functioning as Justice Secretary, I was also called upon to represent my country at the United Nations and in regional and international organizations, notably, the Asian-African Legal Consultative Committee, and the UN Congress on Crime. The UN was once described by U Thant as “an institution which enables a government of a member state to carry on a simultaneous conversation with the rest of the world”. Its General Assembly sessions always provided a touch of drama.
There were showers of chrysanthemums from the public balconies when Salvador Allende arrived to make a memorable speech in which he almost predicted his impending untimely death. In contrast, screaming demonstrators jammed the streets of New York to protest against the invitation extended by the UN to PLO leader Yasser Arafat. At the UN my work was principally concerned with human rights, and I recall the occasion when we began drafting a convention on torture, several years before it was to reach fruition. While on a visit to the US Supreme Court, during a break from the UN, I had the privilege of being invited to tea by that legendary libertarian activist, Mr. Justice William O. Douglas, then well into his seventies, but who had only recently married his young vivacious law clerk.
At a conference held in Colombo of Non-Aligned States, I was serving in the chairperson’s secretariat. It was an exciting week when out of the cover pages of TIME and NEWSWEEK there stepped out into real life exotic figures like Gaddafi of Libya, Sadat of Egypt, Assad of Syria, Makkarios of Cyprus, and Tito of Yugoslavia. My last assignment for the government was to have been as Ambassador to the Soviet Union; an assignment that I accepted and then declined for purely personal reasons: my daughter was barely two years old, and my wife was not willing to expose her to the sub-zero Moscow winter at that age.
Following the defeat of the Bandaranaike government at the 1977 general election, I resigned from my office in the hope of resuming my legal practice. The Bar, however, was unforgiving, and the new government was exceptionally vindictive. Therefore, in 1978, I accepted an offer from King’s College London of appointment as a Research Fellow for the purpose of researching the emerging international human rights law under Professor James Fawcett, then President of the European Commission of Human Rights. After three months in London, I returned home on a brief visit, only to find my passport being impounded on arrival. During the next one year. I was subjected to an inquiry by a special presidential commission on charges of “misuse and/or abuse of power” while serving the previous government, some of the charges being based on matters as hilarious as the Supreme Court “incident” and the proposal to introduce “barefoot lawyers”.
Others were more serious, and Queen’s Counsel who defended me described the proceedings as “a campaign of calumny”. Following the report, Parliament passed a law imposing “civic disabilities” on me for a period of seven years. A few months later, Mrs. Bandaranaike and another former minister (the brother of “Dias” on Jurisprudence) were each subjected to the same inquiry and the same penalty. It was a clever move by the new government to “eliminate” its political opponents, although why I was singled out for this dubious honour, I have yet to ascertain.
I returned to London in 1979 and resumed work on my research project at the School of Oriental and African Studies. Part of my research was incorporated in Paul Sieghart’s book on The International Law of Human Rights. The rest formed my thesis on “Human Rights: The Sri Lankan Experience, 1947-81”, for which the University of London awarded a PhD. My stay in London until the end of 1983, in the peaceful anonymity of academic life, was a most rewarding experience. It revived my interest in the study of law.
My first three months in London was spent in the home of an English judge, and there I had the pleasure of meeting two distinguished “men of the law”: Lord Denning and Sir Rupert Cross. I had several opportunities to undertake research into a variety of subjects, such as Commonwealth Constitutions and the Rights of Scientists, as well as the opportunity to work on the legal staff of the Commonwealth Secretariat, editing the Commonwealth Law Bulletin. The facilities for research in London, particularly at the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies, were extraordinarily rich; and some of the law teachers at the University of London were the finest I had ever encountered.
1984 saw me back in Colombo as Associate Director of the Marga Institute (the Sri Lanka Centre for Development Studies), a non-governmental, multi-disciplinary research institute, whose law division I headed. The atmosphere in the country, and at the Bar where I resumed practice, was now quite different from what it had been in the late 1970s, with the government rapidly losing its popularity. And then in July, while on a mission to Geneva, I received a telex from HKU offering me an appointment in the law faculty. I had entirely forgotten about my application submitted in the previous year from London, and which had until then evoked only a formal acknowledgment. We were finally settled in our home; my wife had resumed her work at the university; and our two daughters were back in their old school.
But the lure of Hong Kong was perhaps too difficult to resist. I had been there several times as a tourist in transit and found the territory an interesting blend of the east and the west. The Joint Declaration had just been signed and, from a constitutional lawyer’s perspective, the next decade would potentially be most stimulating. And, I was presented with an opportunity to do something which I had never wanted to do, and which I had never done before. It was an exciting, challenging prospect in a new field of endeavour. So here I am, having made a new beginning on April Fool’s Day 1985.
Features
El Niño under way and threatens weather extremes, scientists say
El Niño – the natural Pacific weather pattern that pushes up global temperatures – has officially begun, US scientists say.
The US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has declared that El Niño conditions are now under way in the tropical Pacific, with sea surface temperatures having risen sharply in recent months.
Many forecasts suggest this could end up as a so-called “super” El Niño, and even be among the strongest ever recorded.
Coming on top of decades of human-caused warming, it could bring another record-hot year – most likely in 2027 – with disruption to weather, food supplies and economies running well into that year.
This announcement by NOAA is not a surprise as forecasters have expected this warming phase, after the cooler “sister” pattern, La Niña, ended earlier this year.
Sea surface temperatures in the central and tropical Pacific have now passed the 0.5C-above-average threshold that US scientists use to define an El Niño event.
“El Niño conditions developed over the past month, as shown by above-average sea surface temperatures (SSTs) across the central to eastern equatorial Pacific Ocean,” the agency said.
NOAA has also seen the winds above the equatorial Pacific begin to shift – a sign that the atmosphere is now responding to the warmer ocean, not just the ocean warming on its own.

What has surprised the researchers is how confident the computer models already are about its strength.
El Niño‘s intensity is measured by how far sea surface temperatures rise above average in a key zone of the Pacific.
A strong event is defined as more than 1.5C above average; a very strong one above 2C.
According to NOAA’s June outlook, “there is a 63% chance of a very strong El Niño during November-January, that would rank among the largest El Niño events in the historical record going back to 1950,” the agency said.
The three strongest events since then have been in 1982/83, 1997/98 and 2015/16.
Some of the latest US and European (ECMWF) models go further, showing temperatures in the tropical Pacific potentially climbing more than 3C above average by the end of the year.
But the US agency urged some caution on what their strength prediction implies.
“Even very strong El Niño events do not lead to the expected impact everywhere, but stronger events can more significantly tilt the odds in favour of expected outcomes.”
The bigger concern is that all this is happening on an already much hotter planet.
“We do need to worry about the impacts,” said Prof Adam Scaife, head of monthly to decadal prediction at the UK Met Office.
“The current El Niño is… riding on top of a substantial amount of global warming.
“This means that the actual temperatures in affected regions could well be unprecedented, as the warming from El Niño is being topped up by climate change.”
A very strong El Niño typically lifts global air temperatures by around 0.2C, releasing heat stored in the ocean into the atmosphere. That extra blast now lands on a world that is already setting records.
The year 2024 – the warmest on record – was boosted by an El Niño that was not even especially strong.
And despite the cooling drag of a La Niña event, 2025 still came in as the third warmest year on record, hotter even than the super El Niño year of 2016.

“At the end of this year and into 2027, we’re likely to see very high temperatures globally,” Prof Scaife said.
“In 2027, we’re likely to see excess heat on top of the global warming we’ve already got, and that could easily lead to another year above 1.5 degrees [of warming above late-19th-Century levels].”

No two El Niños are alike, but the disruption is felt most sharply in the tropics.
Flooding is common in northern Peru and southern Ecuador, and can reach parts of East Africa, Central Asia and the southern United States.
At the same time, the risk of drought and wildfire rises across much of Australia, Indonesia and northern South America – hitting agriculture and global food stocks.
El Niño also tends to suppress Atlantic hurricanes, and forecasters already expect a quieter-than-average season.
“While that sounds like a good thing, for Central America that leads to a lot less rainfall and potentially drought conditions,” said Liz Stephens, professor of climate risk and resilience at the University of Reading.
Even the UK feels it, if faintly: El Niño can tilt the odds towards a mild start and cold end to winter, though the links are loose.
For many, the forecast is far from abstract.
“An El Niño declaration is not just another weather forecast – for millions of people it is a deadly siren to be feared,” said Mohamed Adow, director of campaign group Power Shift Africa.
“It means failed rains, dying crops, rising food prices, and families pushed to the edge yet again. In East Africa especially, this will land on communities already battered by droughts and floods in recent years.”
Japan’s Meteorological Agency (JMA) takes a similar view to NOAA, judging that El Niño conditions are present. It adds it is all but certain to last into the autumn.
Not every agency is ready to call it, though. Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology (BoM) uses a stricter criterion, requiring sea surface temperatures to exceed 0.8C above average.
This week it said the tropical Pacific was “approaching El Niño conditions”, with central Pacific temperatures already crossing its thresholds, but it stopped short of formally declaring the event had begun.
It expects El Niño to develop later this year, and says it could be strong.
El Niño occurs every two to seven years and usually lasts about a year.
There is still no conclusive proof that climate change is making these events stronger or more frequent – but a warming world can supercharge their effects.
[BBC]
Features
The Sniper Approach: Precision Medicines to Fight Cancer
For a considerable length of time in the past, the global war on cancer relied on a strategy similar to carpet-bombing or shooting from the hip in a wider circle. Traditional chemotherapy, while lifesaving for millions, has always been a blunt and aimless instrument. It floods the body with medications that attack any cell that divides rapidly, and because cancer cells divide ever so speedily, they too are destroyed. However, those chemotherapy drugs also attack the healthy multiplying cells all over the body, including those in the hair follicles, stomach, intestinal lining, and bone marrow. It was a kind of an all-encompassing blunderbuss approach. The end result is the all-too-familiar gauntlet of severe nausea, loss of appetite, hair loss, bone marrow depression, as well as profound exhaustion.
But a quiet and profound revolution has been unfolding in the corridors of oncology. Western medicine is rapidly shifting away from this one-size-fits-all assault. Instead, we are entering the era of precision oncology: a paradigm shift where treatments are tailor-made to target the specific genetic and molecular aberrations lurking inside a tumour. In a telling analogy, modern cancer therapy is deploying snipers instead of grenades or carpet bombs. Nowhere is this revolution more visible or more successful than in the fight against blood cancers and lymphomas.
Decoding the Enemy: What are Antigens and Tumour Markers?
To understand how this new generation of medicine works, we have to look at the microscopic histological landscape of a cancer cell. Every cell in the body is covered in unique surface proteins, which act like microscopic identification badges. The immune system scans these badges to differentiate between one’s own healthy tissue and foreign invaders like bacteria or viruses. When any such protein triggers an immune response, it is called an antigen.
When a normal cell transforms or mutates into a cancerous one, its identification badges change. It begins to overexpress certain proteins, display mutated or altered versions of them, or throw out chemical distress signals. Scientists refer to these telltale chemical signatures as tumour markers.
In the past, two patients with the same type of lymphoma would receive exactly the same chemotherapy regimen because their tumour cells looked identical under a standard microscope. Today, molecular testing can reveal that Patient X’s tumour cells are covered in a specific antigen, while Patient Y’s tumour even lacks it entirely. Though the cancer has the same name, the underlying biology is completely different. By identifying these distinct tumour markers, doctors can now select a drug designed specifically to latch onto that exact marker, leaving the neighbouring healthy cells virtually untouched. It is akin even to modern drone technology.
The Breakthrough in Blood Cancers and Lymphomas
While precision medicine is making waves across all of oncology, its most dramatic victories have been won in haematological malignancies; the cancers of the blood, bone marrow, and lymph nodes. Blood cancers are uniquely suited for targeted therapies. Unlike a solid tumour in the lung or colon, which can be a chaotic, structurally complex mass of many different cell types, blood cancers often stem from a single, rogue line of immune cells circulating through the body. This makes it easier for scientists to isolate the specific “glitch” or antigen common to the entire cancerous population and then attack it specifically.
The Story of Rituximab: The First Smart Bomb
Consider the case of a Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, a cancer of the lymphatic system. A vast majority of these lymphomas arise from cancerous B-cells (a type of lymphocytic white blood cell). Scientists discovered that these malignant cells almost universally carry a specific surface antigen called Cluster of Differentiation or Cluster of Designation, universally known by the abbreviation CD20.
This discovery led to the creation of the medication Rituximab, one of the earliest and most successful monoclonal antibodies. Monoclonal antibodies are laboratory-produced molecules engineered to mimic the body’s natural immune system. They act like guided missiles, designed to seek out and bind to specific proteins or foreign invaders to block disease processes, stop inflammation, or flag infected cells for natural destruction. Engineered in a lab, Rituximab behaves like a heat-seeking missile or a drone, designed to seek out and bind exclusively to the CD20 antigen.
Once it locks onto the cancer cell, it does two things: It delivers a direct blow to the cell’s internal machinery and simultaneously acts as a neon sign, screaming to the patient’s own immune system: “Come and destroy this specific cell.” The introduction of targeted therapies like Rituximab radically transformed the prognosis for lymphoma patients, turning what was once a highly fatal diagnosis into a highly manageable, often curable condition.
Turning the Patient’s Body into the Medicine: CAR-T Cell Therapy
If monoclonal antibodies are smart bombs, the latest frontier in tailored treatment is akin to training an elite, personalised army. CAR-T Cell Therapy (Chimeric Antigen Receptor T-cell therapy) is a highly specialised form of immunotherapy that genetically modifies a patient’s own white blood cells (T-cells) to seek out and destroy cancer cells. The use of the term Chimeric ” indicates a tissue with two or more genetically distinct populations of cells. This is the essence of CAR-T cell therapy, a living drug tailored not just to a type of cancer, but to the individual patient.
The process sounds like science fiction, but it is saving lives today. A patient’s white blood cells (T-cells, the foot soldiers of the immune system) are harvested from their blood. These cells are then genetically re-engineered in a specialised laboratory by using a harmless virus to insert a new gene into these T-cells. This gene instructs the cells to grow a specialised receptor on their surface called a Chimeric Antigen Receptor (CAR). This receptor is custom-built to recognise the exact antigen on the patient’s cancer cells (such as CD19 in acute leukaemia). Then these newly armed “super-cells” are grown by the millions in a laboratory and infused back into the patient.
Once back inside the body, these living weapons hunt down the cancer cells with astonishingly targeted precision. As they are the patient’s own cells, they can persist in the body for years, acting as a vigilant, microscopic security guard against any relapse.
The Benefits: Better Results, Kinder Side-Effects
The most immediate benefit of tailored therapy for the average patient is the reduction in collateral damage. Because these drugs are engineered to ignore cells that do not bear the target antigen, the devastating side effects of traditional chemotherapy are heavily mitigated. Patients generally do not lose their hair, and the severe, debilitating nausea that once defined the cancer experience is significantly lessened.
Furthermore, these treatments work where chemotherapy fails. Cancer cells are notoriously cunning; they often evolve mechanisms to pump chemotherapy drugs out of their system or repair the DNA damage caused by standard drugs. Targeted therapies bypass these defence mechanisms by attacking the cell’s unique structural vulnerabilities or cutting off the specific growth signals the tumour needs to survive.
Challenges on the New Frontier
Despite the immense promise, the transition to fully tailored cancer care is not without its hurdles. At these initial times, these therapies are not panaceas for all ills.
Cancer cells are highly unstable and prone to frequent mutations. A drug may successfully eliminate 99% of tumour cells bearing a specific antigen, but the remaining 1% might mutate, stop producing that antigen, and begin to multiply. This is known as “antigen escape,” leading to drug resistance. To counter this, researchers are now developing therapies that target multiple different markers simultaneously, trapping the cancer in a molecular crossfire.
Tailored treatments are marvels of modern biotechnology, but they are incredibly complex and expensive to manufacture. Designing a unique cellular therapy for a single individual requires highly sophisticated infrastructure, specialised laboratories, and pristine quality control. Lowering the cost of production so these life-saving treatments are accessible to patients worldwide remains one of the greatest challenges of 21st-century medicine.
A targeted drug is only useful if you know exactly what you are targeting. This requires patients to undergo advanced genetic sequencing and biomarker testing at the time of diagnosis. Integrating these sophisticated diagnostic tools into routine medical care globally is essential if we are to realise the full potential of precision oncology.
The Road Ahead: A Future Without “Cancer” perhaps!!!
It is not wishful thinking. We are rapidly approaching a future where the word “cancer” will no longer be treated as a single, terrifying megalith. Instead, a patient’s diagnosis will be defined by its specific molecular profile: a unique combination of antigens, genetic mutations, and tumour markers. The swing towards tailored treatments in Western medicine represents more than just a technological advancement. It perhaps represents a philosophical shift. We are no longer treating the disease in isolation; we are treating the specific, unique manifestation of that disease within an individual person.
While there is still a long winding road ahead to conquer drug resistance and ensure equitable access to these therapies, the future trajectory is quite clear. The era of carpet-bombing is drawing to a close. The age of precision medicine has arrived, bringing with it unprecedented hope, gentler recoveries, and a brighter dawn, especially for cancer patients around the world. Hail Personalised Medicine; Vivat Medicina Ad Personam.
by Dr B. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics),
MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow,
Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
An independent freelance correspondent.
Features
Lest We Forget – V
The Pilot
Francis Gary Powers was born in Jenkins, Kentucky on August 17, 1929, the only son in a family of six children. His father, Oliver Powers, was a coal miner struggling through the Depression years. At the age of 14, Francis took a joy ride in a light aircraft at a country fair in exchange for $2.50. Immediately bitten by the ‘flying bug’, he decided that he wanted to be a pilot someday, although his father wanted him to be a doctor. By then World War II was on, and Francis planned to join the US Navy after completing high school graduation. But when the time came, the war had ended and Francis missed that opportunity.
However, at his father’s suggestion he enrolled at the Milligan College in Tennessee. In his senior year there he applied to become a US Air Force cadet, and was selected, with the stipulation that only after graduating from Milligan would he be allowed to sign his papers for entry as a cadet. As the Korean war had begun, Powers’ father preferred him to return home after graduation and wait for his draft notice for war service. Powers complied, but after two months he applied again to the US Air Force, was selected and enlisted.
His initial training was in skills other than flying, mainly photography. Eventually, in November 1951 he joined the flight school and commenced training on a North American T-6 Texan. Six months later, he began learning to fly jet aircraft, with Powers desperately wanting to participate in combat over Korea. But he was stricken with appendicitis and missed out on the action.
Subsequently, in October 1953 he was sent to New Mexico to train on aerial nuclear bombardment missions at the Watertown airbase, believed to be the birthplace of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and later dubbed ‘Area 51’. Meanwhile, Powers was planning to enter ‘civvy street’ as an airline pilot after completing his period of military service. However, he discovered that by the time of his release from the USAF he would be overage for selection by the airlines, so now with a wife to support, Powers decided to renew his tour of duty with the USAF.
In late 1955 Francis was approached by the CIA to fly a specialised type of intelligence-gathering airplane. Manufactured by Lockheed and developed in Area 51, the aircraft was dubbed the ‘Utilities 2’ (‘U-2’ for short). However, he would work ostensibly as a civilian pilot for the CIA. While regular pilots in the USAF were earning $400 per month, this job came with a monthly salary of somewhere between $1,500 and $2,000, with the pilot based overseas basing. For Powers it was an attractive proposition, not least because it was an opportunity to do something patriotic in a new type of aircraft.
As for operations in the U-2, because flights were conducted close to outer space, pilots could see the curvature of the earth, and had to wear a proper space suit, like astronauts. As sunlight was reflected from below, at those altitudes when pilots looked up all they saw was darkness. Once a pilot was cocooned inside his partial-pressure space suit, like an astronaut’s, his full-pressurized helmet was ‘hermetically sealed’ to the extent that he couldn’t even scratch his nose! And if the suit failed or was damaged, the pilot’s blood would literally boil.
The Aircraft
After WWII, with the advent of the ‘Cold War’, the USSR put up their ‘Iron Curtain’. US President Dwight Eisenhower realised it was imperative for the US to look over the other side of that invisible wall to see what was happening there. By then the Soviets had also acquired nuclear capability. While the USAF had aircraft such as the Boeing B-52 Stratofortress with sufficient range and capability for intelligence-gathering, unfortunately the bombers could operate only at lower altitudes, within easy reach of Soviet missiles and fighter jet aircraft. What the USAF needed was an aircraft which could fly above 70,000 ft for at least ten hours at a time.
After evaluating many options, Lockheed applied the resources of its legendary top-secret ‘Skunk Works’ development programme to design and produce a single-engine aircraft with a 105 ft wingspan (measured from wing tip to wing tip) capable of meeting the USAF’s latest requirements. Working under the direction of Lockheed’s equally renowned designer, Kelly Johnson, the team built a prototype in only eight months by combining the fuselage of a Lockheed F-104 Starfighter (a type labelled by pilots as the ‘widow maker’) with newly-designed ultra-long wings. As much weight as possible was saved by providing the barest minimum of equipment, without any armaments, except for the high-resolution camera. Even the canopy enclosing the pressurised cockpit wasn’t fitted with an electric motor to open and shut it, as that would have added to the airplane’s weight. With the ‘empty’ aircraft weighing much less than it otherwise would have, a spin-off benefit was greater fuel efficiency by carrying the maximum amount of fuel, in integral tanks in the wings and nose, for the long surveillance flights for which the U-2 was primarily designed.
The U-2’s landing gear (undercarriage) comprised two main wheels mounted in tandem at the nose and tail along the longitudinal axis, not unlike wheels on a bicycle. For stability during taxiing and takeoff, two smaller wheels were attached to outriggers at each wingtip. These wheels were designed to fall away as the aircraft lifted off, then retrieved for reuse by a ground crew. However, the absence of the outrigger, or ‘pogo’, wheels made the U-2 difficult to land and roll along the runway at the end of a mission.
The spy-plane’s long wings were so efficient that they produced lift even with the General Electric turbofan engine on idle power close to the ground (with the aircraft flying in what is called ‘ground effect’), while the landing gear, flaps and spoilers helped to create drag to slow the aircraft down. During the landing process another U-2 pilot in a chase car (called the ‘mobile’) followed the aircraft when it was directly above the runway, giving the pilot of the landing U-2 guidance in flying parallel close to the ground, before he induced an aerodynamic stall to touchdown by raising the nose. Performance-wise the aircraft could take off within less than 1,000 ft of runway and climb quickly to the planned very high altitude.
Pilots called the U-2 the ‘Dragon Lady’. It was relatively slow with a cruise speed of Mach 0.7, i.e. 70% the prevalent speed of sound. (Today’s big commercial jets fly at speeds between Mach 0.80 and 0.85.) For the more technically minded, the difference between the low-speed stall and high-speed stall was only eight knots. (‘Stall’ in this instance refers to an aerodynamic stall, whereby the lift-generating airflow over the wings deteriorates causing the airplane to descend. It is distinct from an engine stopping, or ‘stalling’.) Consequently, U-2 pilots had to be very gentle with the controls.
Another characteristic of the U-2 is that it flew very close to what is known as ‘Coffin Corner’ at high altitude. To explain that term and phenomenon, an aircraft remains airborne as the force of lift, produced by airflow over its wings, is equal to the airplane’s weight, while the thrust generated by its engines is equal to aerodynamic drag, or resistance. Lift is also proportional to the density of the air through which the aircraft flies. As an aircraft reaches higher altitudes, air density reduces, and consequently the ‘lifting power’ deteriorates too. If nothing is done to stabilize the aircraft it will begin descending or literally fall out of the sky from lack of lift. Therefore, to maintain the value of the lift component and keep the airplane aloft at those ultra-high altitudes, the aircraft must fly faster with the engine(s) at full throttle.
Additionally, as the aircraft approaches the speed of sound, the air flowing over the top of the wing, which is usually curved to generate lift, tends to move faster than the speed of sound and creates a shock wave. However, the speed of sound reduces with Absolute Temperature, therefore the aircraft reaches the sound barrier earlier at a lower speed at high altitude. Again, the aircraft could fall out of the sky by going too fast. Those are the problems that must be reckoned with when flying at high altitudes, hence the expression ‘Coffin Corner’.
The Mission
On May 1, 1960 Francis Gary Powers was assigned to a mission code-named ‘Operation Grand Slam’, to fly from Peshawar, Pakistan to Bodø in Norway, taking photos along the way. As the USSR was busy celebrating May Day in its usual grandiose manner, CIA planners thought it would be a good opportunity to launch the covert photo reconnaissance flight on that day. Ater lining up for takeoff, Powers had to await authorisation from Washington. The ‘Go Signal’ would be received on High Frequency (HF) Radio relayed via Turkey by Morse code.
Departing Peshawar at 0626 hours, Powers climbed quickly through 66,000 ft, then clicked his microphone twice to indicate that he was well and operations were normal. That was the last anyone monitoring the flight heard from him. Reaching 70,000 ft, the U-2 entered USSR airspace from over Lake Van in Northeastern Turkey. But the Soviets were monitoring his flight almost from departure point and waiting for him.
As it happened, there had been a similar U-2 flight the day before. But as none of the Russian fighter jets or missiles could reach 70,000 ft, complacency had set in among the Americans. This morning however, when Powers was passing Lake Van, an explosion occurred behind his U2. Three missiles had been launched by the USSR, one of which struck one of their own fighter aircraft in error, with another going astray. But the missile that detonated in close proximity to Powers’ U-2 was more successful. As the spy-plane was relatively ‘flimsy’ for the purpose of saving weight, the explosion’s shock wave was strong enough to tip the aircraft over in a nose-down attitude. The resulting g-forces pushed Gary Powers up in his seat toward the cockpit canopy and out of reach of the self-destructive switch designed to destroy the on-board camera and film. Still in control of the airplane, Powers descended to 30,000 ft but found that he was now too low to eject. Then a second missile struck the aircraft, throwing him out of the cockpit. His parachute deployed automatically and he landed on a Soviet community farm where he was soon apprehended and handed over to the authorities (KGB). Powers did not, however, use the lethal poison-laced pin, hidden in a coin he carried, to kill himself.
Meanwhile, the CIA realised that one of its U-2 spy-planes had gone missing, so they put out a standard cover story from their files saying that it was an unarmed NASA weather observation aircraft that had been shot down. They claimed that the airplane had suffered an oxygen system problem, with the resulting hypoxia possibly disorientating the pilot. The CIA added that almost certainly the pilot would not have survived, and that was the version announced to the world by President Eisenhower.
However, it wasn’t until May 7 when Soviet Prime Minister Nikita Khruschev announced that an American U-2 had been shot down and its pilot captured. Finally, Eisenhower was forced to admit on May 11 that he had lied, and that he had authorised the spy flights over the USSR.
With the Cold War showing signs of thawing slightly (although the Cuban missile crisis was still two years in the future), a high-level summit meeting had already been planned for May 16 between the US, USSR, Great Britain, and France in Paris. The other Communist nations were not pleased with Khrushchev for agreeing to participate. But the U-2 ‘incident’ on May Day now provided him with a convenient excuse not to attend that highly anticipated meeting. Eventually though, he only met French President Charles de Gaulle and British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan individually, then withdrew from the summit in a huff.
Later, on August 31, 1960 – Francis Gary Powers’ 31st birthday – a ‘show trial’ began at the Hall of Columns (Dom Soyuzov) in Moscow. The pilot’s family was present too. But the verdict was preconceived. Although Powers was expected to be executed, as a spy, he was sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment, with a 100 rubles per month of pocket money and permitted to send one letter home each month. But after serving 21 months, on February 10, 1962 Powers was exchanged for a Soviet intelligence officer named Rudolf Abel (born Vilyam Fisher), who had been convicted on espionage charges and incarcerated on a 30-year sentence at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary in Georgia, USA.
The much-publicised, almost stage-managed exchange took place at the Glienicke Bridge linking West Berlin to East Germany, and later formed the subject of the Steven Spielberg movie ‘Bridge of Spies’ starring Tom Hanks. Significantly, by the time of the prisoner exchange, CIA chief Allen W. Dulles (brother of John Foster Dulles, the former US Secretary of State under President Eisenhower) had been forced to resign over the Bay of Pigs debacle in Cuba and other perceived strategic failures.
Although, after extensive series debriefings the CIA remained ostensibly pleased with Powers’ actions while in captivity in the USSR, President John F. Kennedy cancelled a formal reception to celebrate his return to the USA. Even Powers’ private writings, in the form of a diary he kept during captivity in the USSR, were suppressed by the CIA. However, they were released many years later in the book titled ‘Letters from a Soviet Prison’.
On March 6, 1962, Powers, who had been awarded the CIA Intelligence Star on his return from captivity, fronted an Armed Services Senate Committee who wanted to ensure that he hadn’t divulged state secrets to the Soviet Union. At the end of the sessions the Senate Committee members were so pleased with his conduct whilst in Soviet captivity, they gave him a standing ovation.
Although the media at that time was making things uncomfortable for Powers, he received the back pay that had accrued while he was out of the country, and he resumed flying but as a civilian U-2 test pilot for Lockheed. Over-flights of the USSR were suspended, but surveillance missions continued over countries such as Vietnam, Cuba and Indonesia. Today the U-2 still flies, mainly on weather and communications missions.
Much later, Francis Gary Powers joined Los Angeles TV station KNBC as a helicopter pilot on traffic-reporting duties. But on August 1, 1977, the Bell JetRanger Powers was flying whilst filming brush fires in Santa Barbara County, ran out of fuel and crashed over the San Fernando Valley, killing him and cameraman George Spears.
Frances Gary Powers was only 47 years old at the time of his death. Dick Spangler, President of the Radio and Television News Association of Southern California, lobbied to have Powers buried at Arlington National Cemetery. The request was duly granted by President Jimmy Carter on the basis of Powers having been awarded the CIA Intelligence Star (equivalent to a military Silver Star) for his service as a CIA spy-plane pilot.
Posthumous Awards received by Capt. Francis Gary Powers (in 2000 & 2012):
· Silver Star: Awarded by the US Air Force in 2012 for valor and exceptional loyalty while being held captive.
· Distinguished Flying Cross:
Awarded for actions during his flights.
· Prisoner of War Medal:
Awarded in 2000 for his time imprisoned in the Soviet Union.
· CIA Director’s Award:
Given for extreme fidelity and courage.
· National Defense Service Medal:
Awarded by the Department of Defense.
God Bless America and no one else!
BY GUWAN SEEYA
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