(NOTE: This is a first-person account of Vertis' flight to join me in Benghazi, Libya.)

It was the fall of 1963, and I can remember it like it was yesterday because I was scared to death. I guess it's normal to be a little apprehensive on your first flight, but my first flight had some real scary parts.

My flight was from El Dorado, Arkansas, to Benghazi, Libya, via Dallas, New York City and Rome. The journey started when Mother and Daddy drove me out to Goodwin Field to catch a plane to Dallas, where I would change planes and fly to New York City, then on to Rome.

Well, I wasn't that upset with the short flight to Dallas, and even in the Dallas airport I didn't have any trouble. However, the big American jet was a little more than a 19-year-old Arkansas girl was comfortable with. But it went better than I thought it would, and when we landed in New York City, even getting my bags and a taxi to the city, I didn't have any problems.

I had a couple of days to spend with Richard's mother, who was in New York City on a ready-to-wear ladies' buying trip for a local department store. The taxi ride into the city was a lot more nerve-racking than the plane ride, but when I got to the hotel Richard's mother was there waiting for me. Everything seemed to be going perfectly, but I was a little uncomfortable thinking about the rest of the journey.

Well, the two days in New York City were wonderful, and after seeing a Broadway play and dining at some great restaurants, I was really enjoying myself. But as the time for me to leave for the airport approached, I began to get nervous again, even though I really was looking forward to seeing Richard, who had been in Benghazi for six weeks.

I guess flying across the ocean was part of the reason I was getting nervous, but the idea I would have to change planes in Rome also had me worried. I was really hoping the TWA folks in Rome would help me. I was flying TWA to Rome, and then Alitalia on to Benghazi.

The check-in went smoothly, and soon my group was boarding the big four-engine jet. The takeoff was as smooth as could be, and I thought I would just get to lean back and maybe sleep on the way across the Atlantic.

We had only been in the air for around an hour when the pilot came on the plane's intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a serious engine problem, and we are dumping our fuel in preparation to make an emergency landing in Boston."

I promise you, I didn't breathe for a whole minute, and as I sat glued to my seat, my hands clenched, and as I looked around I could see that the other passengers were about like me. We were all scared to death!

I gripped the seat armrest so hard my nails left dents, but in about an hour the pilot came back on and said we would be landing. I could see the plane crashing on the runway, burning and people screaming, and I started holding my breath again.

But the plane just made an easy, not-a-problem landing, and when we pulled up to the gate we all scrambled off.

It took a while for the mechanical problem to be checked out, and after a couple of hours the gate attendant announced the plane was ready to be boarded. But if you didn't want to fly on that plane, there would be another plane later.

Well, of course, I didn't know what to do, so I lined up to get on the plane, but a lot of passengers didn't. In fact, only five got back on the plane.

After the plane took off and we were out over the Atlantic, the stewardess came back to where the five passengers were seated in economy and ushered us up front into first class. None of the first-class passengers had gotten back on the plane.

Well, since we were several hours late, I spent most of the flight worrying that I wasn't going to catch the plane to Benghazi and wondering what I would do in Rome if I missed my flight.

However, as we approached Rome the pilot came on the intercom and said, "Mrs. Mason, since we are late arriving in Rome, we are going to be met on the runway, and we will transfer you to the Alitalia plane that is waiting for you."

And that's what happened!

Yes, I felt both special and nervous, but as the Alitalia jet roared down the runway and took off like a fighter jet, I began to calm down. And when I walked into the terminal in Benghazi, which was an old World War II Quonset hut, and saw Richard standing there waiting for me, I was so happy I couldn't speak for a few moments.

© El Dorado News Times