In his lifetime, Arnold Sochindronath Williams has encountered numerous near-death experiences. He served his country, rescued comrades in the line of fire and had even taken a bullet in his back. Being in the line of duty for much of his life, 81-year-old Sato (as he is known to many) and his Persian wife, Ira, 65, now spend their retired life in the service of the Bahá'í faith.

Sato lost both parents (his father was a clergyman) at a very young age. He grew up in India in an era when the British influence was still strong. After the passing away of his parents Sato was raised by a religious church-going family, who brought him up as an Anglican. His life took a twist after he had graduated with a bachelor of arts with honours from the University of Punjab, before he was to start on his masters.

“I was so peaceful in nature,” the soft-spoken man says. “My professors and the dean of my university were very happy with me. I remember getting prizes for ‘best behaved’… I remember it was very embarrassing for a person to be singled out.”

His studies were disrupted during the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. 

“The British Raj had just finished when the partition took place and I had nowhere to go. I was an orphan. They were still recruiting people in the armed forces. I would have starved to death along with the other people at the time,” Sato recalls. On the advice of his church pastor, Sato joined the Air Force the following year. 

“They wanted me to join the Army and I said no. In the Army it is definitely all killing. At least in the Air Force I can learn to fly. There was at least some compensation,” he said. 

Training involved a year of theory, aerodynamics, meteorology, all the technical engineering aspects of flying, and then a year of actual flying.  

Looking back, Sato says the defence force had taught him much. “They got rid of your ego and taught you to obey orders. It’s not to question why, but to do and die. That sort of attitude is ingrained in you.”

Sato joined the Air Force as a permanent commissioned officer at the age of 21, on what was to have been a life-long service. However, after 19 years he retired as wing commander.

“I was a bomber pilot. They taught me to fly but ultimately put me on the bombers as they said it was suited to my nature and I was a very steady flyer,” he recalls.

He was put in command of 11 others, including the nose gunner, tail gunner, navigator, bomb aimer, signals operator, and engineer. “I was doing a lot of practice flying because at that time the atom bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were still very fresh in the minds of the people. The capabilities of bombers were recognised…and that was telling a lot on my conscience as well…how I have the ability to make the final decision to wipe out an entire city with the press of a button,” Sato says with a heavy heart. “Now is that a civilized decision? So I thought ‘they are making me a brutal and savage person.’”

In the mid 50s, about 10 years after being in the Air Force, Sato was sent to the United Kingdom to take back jet-bombers to India. It was then that he got his calling from the Bahá'í faith. 

“When I became Bahá'í I could not be a bomber pilot because Bahá’u’lláh’s teaching is very clear that the earth is one nations and mankind it’s citizens,” he explained. As time passed it weight on him even heavier, and he had to find a way out. He wrote a letter to the authorities requesting discharge from the Air Force. 

It was not to be as simple. In those days only the Queen of England or the President of India (on the Queen’s behalf) could sign the necessary documents to release one from such duties. Apparently, Sato’s religious belief was not reason enough for discharge. Instead, he was transferred to helicopter rescue and relief operations. It was another nine years before Sato left the Air Force for good. 

“I was involved in a lot of rescue operations which were very critical. Although I was not attacked by the enemy, the weather and the clouds in the mountains were harsh conditions. They were more dangerous than the bullets of the Chinese I think. To fly in such circumstances was very dangerous and required a lot of experience,” he said. 

His wife Ira suddenly adds: “In 1962, he was even shot down in the Himalayas during the war between China and India. We were married at the time and I was expecting our first son, Vinod (whom they named after a missing colleague).”

In a time when India and China were at loggerheads, an Indian detachment along the India-China border in the Himalayas was taken over by the Chinese. Sato had been evacuating causalities for days and needed assistance, so his colleague, Vinod Sigal, from Delhi, was called in to check on the outpost. It was assumed that there might just be a communication malfunction, but when Vinod failed to return Sato was sent in after him due to his familiarity with the terrain. During such rescue missions, the pilot was sent on his own.     

“I was going there to bring him back because I knew the route and the plane. My friend had not been there before and I thought he was stranded and I had to rescue him,” he explained.

“That’s where I found his helicopter,” Sato said of the border outpost in the valley, where the aircraft had evidently been landed safely. The Chinese had already taken over but nobody was in sight. “The machine guns were there. It was in the shape of an armchair…snow and ice everywhere,” he recollects, “and they were hiding in the rocks. They opened fire as I circled round. My aircraft and instrument panel were shattered, and a bullet hit me in the back as well. I escaped from there. I dived out and I knew the aircraft was going to crash at any time.”

He was fortunate to cross a particular border line where he knew the ridge was before the aircraft failed. He crash-landed. 

“The helicopter crashed in a gorge. There was blood everywhere but luckily my limbs were still intact,” he says. “I had to get myself out and let the forward-area base army commander know that the Chinese had taken over the outpost and there was no communication failure as earlier suspected.

“So I went cross-country for several hours over the border.”

Ira interrupts: “He had a bullet in his back!”

Sato laughs heartily. “Only bruises…my limbs were alright so I walked to reach the base. Obviously I lived to tell the tale.” 

Eager to tell of her husband’s bravery, Ira holds open a case to reveal the medal inside. “He was awarded the Vir Chakra, one of the gallantry awards for bravery. It’s equivalent to the Victoria Cross.” 

For Ira, a young wife at the time, the uncertainly of seeing him again every time he went on these missions was excruciating. “My first experience was when I was heavily pregnant and he was shot down. I had no knowledge of it at all. We were in the camp at the time. Everyone was hush-hush…you know how secretive everything is in the Army and Air Force. Nobody told us anything. We were in Jorhat, in Assam. They said there was going to be a night landing and I’m wondering who is going to land at night? It was Sato they had brought in for operation to his back to get the bullet out. Still I did not know the full story.

“Two days later we were evacuated from Assam to Delhi due to the war that had broken out there. We were all hurled into a huge aircraft called ‘Packet’ and that was the first time…uncertain of what was going to happen, what war was there and all sorts of things. After two days there was ceasefire and he came back.”

Once he had recovered, Sato was sent to France for conversion training to jet helicopters that had the world’s altitude record of 36,000 feet. “The helicopters we were flying were under-powered. Not really made for altitudes like the Himalayas, so I was operating at a disadvantage.” After three months of training in the Alps, Sato returned to India with the Jet Aluet 3 helicopters to start a squadron called the 107 Helicopter Unit. 

When the first Prime Minister of India, Pundit Jawaharlal Nehru, passed away in 1964 Sato was chosen to fly the aircraft that would carry Pundit Nehru’s ashes to be scattered over the Himalayas. He was accompanied by Pundit Nehru’s sister Sarojini Naidu on the trip. Nehru’s wish was for his ashes not to be in one place. “The Navy was involved to drop it in the ocean and the Air Force in the Himalayas, and the honour was given to me. How they choose my name I don’t know.”

Sato’s performance did not go unrecognised and promotions came along. Eventually, he was made wing commander, which was equivalent to colonel in the Army. 

“I had to come to headquarters as Deputy Director of Organisation and Establishment. This put me in a place where all the missile squadron, bomber squadron, fighter squadron, and helicopter units, all over India, came under my supervision. I was back in the war business and I was not happy with that. 

He remembers questioning his senior officer: “Why have you put me here? There I was rescuing people and training pilots under my command in rough-area landing, mountain operations and all that. That was great service to mankind and I was happy to do that. Now you have given me this desk-job of supervising all the deadly operations.”

Then in 1967, after retiring from the Air Force he joined Air India International. 

“That time they were flying 707. Jumbo jets had not come, so I was converted on 707. It was during this period (the late 60s) that Air India was operating Perth, Sydney, Nadi, and I made a couple of trips to Fiji. 

“Then I was sent to USA to be trained on the 747. I was part of the first crew to be trained on the 747.”
Sato was part of a handful of Indian pilots, along with those of other international airlines being trained on the 747 then. 

Ira and their two sons, Vinod and Vivek, were globe-trotting quite a bit due to Sato’s profession. All the while his spirituality in the Bahá'í faith grew with intensity. He was with the airline for a decade or so before retiring. By then the family had settled in Australia but they still moved around quite a bit. 

In 2000, the couple were asked by the Baha’ (the highest body in the Bahá'í faith) to come and teach the faith here due to Sato’s background as an Indian pilot.

“We have been here in Fiji for seven years and we have had such a wonderful time,” Ira says, adding that due her husband’s sudden medical condition she and Sato could not stay on. Age is finally catching up on him and the couple returned to Australia in December 2007 for Sato’s treatment. 

They have built many relationships with the locals here. In the few days before their departure, they reflected on the memories of the time spent in this country that they hold dear to their hearts. 

“I would rather be buried here, believe me, because it is such a beautiful nation,” Ira says.