Friday, Jul. 12, 1968

Interlude in Iturup

Scanning a moving blip on the screen that indicated an airliner, Japanese defense command radar operators on the northernmost tip of Hokkaido Island radioed a warning. "You are off course," chided the Japanese. "Turn south." But the message was lost amid crackling static, and Seaboard World Airlines Flight 25 3 A was already 80 nautical miles north of its course. Moments lat er, Pilot Joseph Tosolini was radioing that intercepting MIG fighters were forcing him to land on Iturup, one of the Soviet Kurile Islands. For Tosolini, 214 U.S. servicemen bound for Viet Nam aboard Flight 253A and the crew of 16, the interrupted maiden flight of the brand-new giant DC-8 jetliner turned into 55 hours of bone-wearying imprisonment that had diplomats in Washington and Moscow on tenterhooks.

Bully Beef & Noodles. Tosolini's first inkling of trouble aloft was the sight of a MIG off his starboard wing. The Soviet pilot gestured to Tosolini to follow him. The DC-8 did, but when it veered off the new course for a few seconds, the MIG's guns belched a short burst. However, the shots were aimed away from the airliner. Nor did the Russians at Iturup seem unfriendly. When food aboard the airliner gave out, Soviet military rations of bread, cheese, butter, weak coffee, bully beef and noodles were provided, as well as cigarettes. During their second night, Flight 253A's nine air hostesses were given damp, makeshift beds in an airport building. During short respites, the imprisoned Americans were allowed to leave the aircraft to stretch knotted muscles, smoke and use Soviet outhouses. These interludes and the dreary view from the airliner's ports afforded a rare peek at the Kuriles, which Russia has guarded with xenophobic jealousy ever since the islands were seized as booty from Japan after World War II. A mist-shrouded necklet of 50 volcanic islets, the Kuriles are strung strategically from within seven miles of Hokkaido to seven miles from Kamchatka on the Siberian mainland. "The whole place looked half-abandoned," said Army Specialist Five Theodore Sokardo. "The runway was narrow and the field buildings were dingy and, wellere flashed to U.S. Ambassador Llewellyn Thompson in Moscow, who took advantage of a similar treaty-signing ceremony to speak with Soviet Premier Aleksei Kosygin about the airliner. He assured the Soviet leader that any violation of Soviet airspace was unintentional. Kosygin stalled, saying the incident was being investigated.

It was clear that by holding the plane the Russians could scuttle talks with the U.S. On the other hand, their release of 214 Americans for combat would invite a propaganda cudgeling from China, ever eager to berate Moscow for betraying its allies in Hanoi. In the end, both sides displayed an encouragingly sophisticated, fresh approach to defusing the danger. Next day, Thompson was handed a curt protest note. Just as curtly, the U.S. apologized and Flight 253A was set free, reaching Japan with a planeload of grubby, bearded troopers bound for Cam Ranh Bay in Viet Nam.

After lengthy Soviet interrogation sessions, Tosolini signed a letter regretting a violation of Soviet sovereignty that he insists never occurred

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.