Samurai Skyjackers

The Japanese have a genius for embellishment--often to excess. This proclivity, which they have already demonstrated in commerce, manners and entertainment, was extended last weak to the recent Western fad of skyjacking. The seat-belt sign had just flashed off aboard Japanese Airlines' Flight 351 from Tokyo to Fukuoka when nine young men strategically stationed throughout the crowded aircraft suddenly sprang to their feet. At first some passengers thought that it was only some kind of show or trick. Then the youths pulled out daggers and short, curved samurai swords. Some of them shouted, "We are the Red Army"--an extremist splinter group of the leftist Zengakuren student movement.

Ruses Aloft. While most of the youths stood guard over the 122 other passengers, the leader, 27-year-old Takamaro Tamiya, pushed aside the stewardesses, who were handing out hot towels, and made his way into the unlocked cockpit of the tri-jet Boeing 727. At sword's point, he ordered Captain Shinji Ishida to set a course for the North Korean capital of Pyongyang, 625 miles away. Using the public address mike, the skyjackers warned that they carried bombs and would blow up the plane if their orders were not obeyed. In their belts and sticking out of their pockets were objects that the passengers took to be the bombs. The skyjackers explained that they wanted to go to North Korea to learn guerrilla warfare. Ishida convinced his captors that the aircraft lacked enough fuel for the long flight. They then agreed to allow the plane to land at its original destination of Fukuoka, 550 miles west of Tokyo, to take on more fuel.

By the time the plane had landed, all Japan knew about the skyjacking. The Japanese government was loath to allow the plane to fly to Pyongyang, since Japan has no relations with North Korea and thus might never get its plane back. But the skyjackers were adamant. They held swords to the throats of the crew members while the jet took on 30,000 Ibs. of jet fuel. The skyjackers made only one concession: they released 22 women, children and an old man. Then the plane lifted off toward the Asian mainland.

During the five-hour stop at Fukuoka, the tower operators managed to slip Ishida a secret message. When the skyjackers were not listening, he was to tune his radio to a special frequency for instructions. A special message instructed the pilot to fly to Seoul, South Korea, rather than to Pyongyang.

At Seoul's Kimpo airport, South Korean, U.S. and United Nations flags were hurriedly hauled down and giveaway signs were removed or covered up. A detachment of South Korean soldiers was quickly outfitted with the quilted uniforms and rifles of North Korea's army. As the plane landed, the tower boomed: "This is Pyongyang! We welcome you wholeheartedly."

For a moment the students were taken in; they slapped one another happily and apologized to the other passengers for inconveniences. Then they had second thoughts and asked for proof. They wanted to see pictures of North Korean Premier Kim II Sung and a Pyongyang newspaper, both items that are forbidden in sternly anti-Communist South Korea. After a short delay, the skyjackers saw through the ruse. "During that moment," said one stewardess later, "they were very excited and looked very fearful."

Doubtful Welcome. Thus began an incredible standoff that continued for nearly three more days. The students refused to surrender the plane or release the passengers. South Korean authorities called in machine gunners and military jets to prevent the plane from leaving. For the passengers, crowded six abreast in the plane, the impasse was hell. The men's hands were tied behind them with twine; the air became sour; toilets reached the overflow point. The skyjackers kept the doors shut and window shades drawn.

Top Japanese officials flew to Seoul, where they bargained for hours by radio with the young radicals. Finally, Japan's Transportation Vice Minister Shinjiro Yamamura offered to accompany them to Pyongyang as hostage if they would let the passengers go. Eighty hours after the plane had been skyjacked, yellow steps finally were rolled up to it and 50 passengers debarked, many of them pausing on the way out to shake hands ceremoniously with their captors. Then Yamamura boarded the plane, after which the remaining 49 passengers were released. The free passengers were quickly flown to Fukuoka, where they were greeted with joyous cries of "Banzai" by friends and relatives. Flight 351 flew on to Pyongyang. Next day the North Koreans freed the plane, its crew and hostage Yamamura. They flew home, abandoning the samurai skyjackers to a doubtful welcome: Pyongyang Radio was already referring to them as "Trotskyite criminals."

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