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Martin Williams

On the morning of July 2, 2022, as Hong Kong was lashed by rainstorms from Typhoon Chaba, a Government Flying Service helicopter was on a rescue mission close to the eye of the storm.
Approaching a vessel that was reportedly in distress, the four-man crew, including co-pilot Billy Cheung Wing-kin, saw it was aground in shallow waters, with only part of the upper deck, wheelhouse and a tall blue crane visible, awash with waves from the raging sea.
The crane was listing at around 45 degrees, and the vessel had broken in two, the bow section now missing. Looking down at the steeply sloping deck, with three men desperately clinging on to a railing atop the wheelhouse, winchman Cyrus Szeto Chi-pang was reminded of a scene from Titanic.
Though initial reports had told of 30 people to be rescued, another helicopter had arrived a little earlier, and seen only three men at the wheelhouse, but ran low on fuel while searching, forcing a return to Hong Kong.

The helicopter crew swiftly planned a rescue: Szeto would be winched down while the helicopter remained above, as stable as possible in the howling winds.
While it was lucky that the remains of the vessel had grounded, the huge crane mast was a potential hazard if it suddenly shifted; and massive waves, maybe 10 metres (33 feet) high, posed another threat, with surging water pounding the main deck and lower wheelhouse.
In a normal rescue, the winchman might descend from perhaps six to nine metres above ground, but to avoid the mast the helicopter hovered at around 30 metres over the wheelhouse – a descent akin to dropping from atop a 10-storey building, but in hurricane-force winds, with intense squalls set to arrive at any time, and mighty waves below.
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Szeto opened the door, ready to descend. He was scared, and thought of his family. But he could also see the three men below. Szeto became calm, intent on saving the men, and started his descent.
“They need me,” he thought.
The Government Flying Service (GFS) is headquartered at Hong Kong International Airport – where its hangar houses a fleet of two Bombardier Challenger fixed-wing aircraft, a Diamond twin-engined fixed-wing aircraft, seven Airbus helicopters and two Eurocopter helicopters.

Mostly, the GFS operates within Hong Kong, with typical flights including mapping surveys, airlifting patients in emergency cases from Cheung Chau to hospitals on Hong Kong Island, along with rescuing hikers in distress.
While saving hikers can be difficult, possibly requiring helicopter crews to operate alongside cliffs or during nighttime downpours, one of GFS’ most notable Hong Kong operations took place in the heart of Kowloon. This was on November 20, 1996, when the 16-storey Garley Building was ablaze in Hong Kong’s worst building fire during peacetime.
Manoeuvring in a tight space with higher buildings all around, the crew of a Black Hawk helicopter dropped into the billowing smoke to find four men trapped in a corner of the rooftop, and winched them to safety, even as sheets of flames shot from windows below.

The service also has responsibilities spanning much of the South China Sea – where an explosion and fire aboard an oil and chemical tanker resulted in a rescue mission in the spring of 2022.
It was already dark when the helicopter arrived on scene at 7pm on April 17, about 300km (190 miles) east of Hong Kong.
With dense, low clouds above, and no lights on board, the ship was illuminated only by the helicopter’s powerful searchlight. It was pitching and rolling severely on three- to four-metre waves whipped by northeasterly winds.

En route, the rescue crew had learned one man had died in the explosion, leaving six survivors on board. After winchmen Kent Tsang Po-ting and Peter Li Ying-kit man­aged to land on the deck, they found three of the survivors were badly burned, with upper clothing gone, exposing extensive burns with areas of skin missing.
“Sit down, so you don’t fall,” Tsang told the first one to be winched, and put a strop round his back. As this touched his burns, the man screamed in agony, but there was no other way to rescue him.
For extra support, Tsang added a support below the man’s knees, before watching as he reached the helicopter.
The second burns victim screamed, too. The third, less severely burned, was calmer. Li departed as well, and the helicopter headed back to Hong Kong, leaving Tsang on board to await a second helicopter.
As an airline pilot, you might fly around the world, but it’s the same again and again. Here, with every mission, you learn something and you’re helping people
GFS pilot Billy Cheung
Battling bouts of seasickness, Tsang spent about 15 minutes in almost complete darkness before he and the arriving winchman saved the remaining three crew from the shaking ship. It was almost 3am the next day by the time he arrived home, exhausted.
Though tropical cyclones affect Hong Kong and the surrounding area only a few days a year, they have an outsize impact on GFS operations.
When they are approaching, the Challenger planes may fly high over them, and release dropsondes – cylinders roughly the size of your forearm, packed with instruments that transmit data such as position, wind speed and temperature back to the crew, who in turn pass it to the Hong Kong Observatory.
While tropical cyclones are over the South China Sea, GFS staff are on heightened alert – knowing there could be calls requiring more than the typical flights, perhaps as vessels encountering problems in rough seas ask for help.
The most recent rescue during a tropical storm was on October 17, 2022, as Typhoon Nesat moved from the north Philippines to the South China Sea, and cargo vessel the Sheng Li lost power 260km southeast of Hong Kong.

Though the helicopter crew, including winchman Alan Lui Ka-ching, passed through intense downpours, it wasn’t raining when they reached the stricken vessel.
The ship was swaying wildly on mighty waves but visibility was good, and after landing on the deck, Lui was quick to attach two waiting crewmen to the winch line, so they could be lifted to safety.
Seconds later, a huge wave hit the ship, sending a torrent of water over Lui and the remaining five crew members. It battered Lui from behind, and he grabbed hold of a rail to keep from being washed overboard, before using one arm to secure himself while swiftly working to complete the mission.

This was the year’s second rescue at sea during a typhoon, after the Typhoon Chaba mission on July 2.
Billy Cheung arrived at GFS at 7am that day, and half an hour later was in the operations room, helping plan a flight for a crew that had arrived for the 6.30am shift.
A report had just come in from the Hong Kong Maritime Rescue Coordination Centre of a ship that had lost power and was floundering in waves from Typhoon Chaba. It was taking on water, and nine people needed rescuing.
Cheung had dreamed of flying since he was a boy growing up in Ma On Shan, playing a flight simulator on his computer and researching aircraft types.
After a little actual piloting experience while at university in Australia, he returned to Hong Kong and successfully applied for a position with GFS.
“I think it’s meaningful work,” he says. “As an airline pilot, you might fly around the world, but it’s the same again and again. Here, with every mission, you learn something and you’re helping people.”

When Chaba struck, Cheung, 30, had been with the GFS for seven years, in which time his only experience in typhoons was during some routine local missions.
Soon, that would change – as an updated report came in, saying the ship was broken and sinking, and there were 30 people on board. Another helicopter was needed.
Cheung was assigned to the crew as co-pilot, along with captain Karl Chan Ka-to, winch operator Clive Chapman and winchman Szeto.
Szeto had previously worked for the Customs and Excise Department, but loved hiking and running, and didn’t want to stay in an office. One day he was running alongside the airport, and passed the GFS.
His interest piqued, he applied for a job, which led to training as a winchman. Like Cheung, he lacked experience of rescues during typhoons – infrequent events, even for seasoned crew.
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Again, planning was required before they could depart. There were no obvious places near the rescue site to refuel – especially as oil rigs and airports might close during the typhoon.
With calculations showing the mission would be around the limit of the helicopter’s range for a return trip, particularly with the need to search and perhaps bring back another nine people, ground crew minimised weight by removing seats from the rear cabin, then moved the helicopter onto the runway.
Cheung recalls that “there was a sense of urgency – the clock was ticking”.
It was around 300km to the rescue site. All the way there, the helicopter was shaking, buffeted by the storm winds. With Chaba nearing the coast of west Guangdong province, it was almost as if they were on course to intercept the eye of the storm.
“The cloud base was low, and visibility was drop­ping,” says Cheung. “We tried to keep low, close to the water.”
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As the sea churned with 10-metre waves, they couldn’t go too low. Then another threat loomed.
“We saw wind turbines ahead,” says Cheung. Pilot Karl Chan cursed, and took evasive action by climbing into the cloud.
But with visibility almost nil, the crew were forced to descend again, finding more turbines they had to fly between or just above. As the cloud base was around 300 metres, and turbines soared to around 250 metres, there was little safety space, even with the blades motionless, turned off to prevent damage in the storm.
The helicopter came into and out of the cloud, and encountered severe rain squalls, with occasional periods of improved visibility affording glimpses of the coast 10km to 20km away.
As they arrived above the grounded vessel, condi­tions had deteriorated even in the short time since the first helicopter had been on scene. They were near the eastern eye wall of Chaba.
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Szeto didn’t time his descent, though given stan­dard speeds it must have taken about 20 to 25 seconds. The blue crane was close by, but happily it stayed relatively still, and Szeto reached the wheelhouse roof.
Here, he used his legs to help grab hold of a guard rail, which he sat on before turning his attention to the three men. He would have to rescue them one at a time.
The men looked exhausted, barely able to do more than hold on to the rail. Szeto moved closer to one, within arm’s length. “I’m going to put a rescue strop round you; hold it to your body,” he explained, and pushed the strop over the man’s head.
Szeto checked the man was supported by the strop round his back, and was holding fast to a clasp in front of it. Via his radio headset, he told winch operator Chapman they were ready to go.
Face to face, they swung free of the wheelhouse roof and began ascending. Szeto used a hand to try and keep the man steady, made sure he was still holding on as they swayed in the wind.
I don’t talk much about work with my wife – I don’t want her to worry
GFS winchman Cyrus Szeto
Looking at the raging seas below, he wondered if the winch cable would support them, and again thought of his wife and daughter, who had no idea where he was right now.
It seemed a long time before they reached the heli­copter, where Chapman helped pull the rescued man on board.
“Go inside! Go inside!” shouted Szeto, pushing the man into the cabin as best he could. Then, he went down again, making another two trips before all three men were aboard.
The three sobbed with relief. But rather than simply wanting to head for land, they asked if the helicopter team could rescue the other crew members: all 27 had fallen into the sea.
With the winching operation having taken almost 15 minutes, Cheung and Chan estimated they had only around 15 minutes of fuel left. Even so, they started searching.
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All seven men in the helicopter stared at the waves below, hoping against hope they might find someone. “Is there something there?” one of the rescued crew asked at times, but there was nothing other than items of rubbish being tossed around. It was time to return to Hong Kong.
Another GFS helicopter was arriving by then, and a fourth was departing Hong Kong. Two more helicopter flights would also join the search, which continued for a week, with Challenger fixed-wing aircraft conducting a total of 14 sorties.
Despite their efforts, the GFS teams were unable to locate any of the vessel’s crew who had fallen into the sea, though there was a later report that a China agency had found another survivor.
After arriving in Hong Kong, the three men whom Szeto had winched to safety kept thanking the crew. Unable to speak English to Chapman, they bowed to show their appreciation. Then they were taken to immigration, and for a medical check-up.
Reflecting on the rescues, Szeto says, “It looks quite dangerous, but we’re not heroes; saving people is our work. We aim for four people out on a mission, and four back – and if we have an extra one [rescued], that’s a bonus.”

In August 2006, China’s vice-minister of communications, Huang Xianyao, visited GFS, to thank helicopter teams for rescuing 91 crew from two mainland China barges during Typhoon Prapiroon early that month. But usually there are no grand gestures for rescue crews, just thanks from grateful survivors who are last seen departing for immigration.
With friends and family, too, there may be little fuss about missions. “I don’t talk much about work with my wife – I don’t want her to worry,” says Szeto.
After arriving home safely following the rescue during Typhoon Chaba, he told her a little about the operation. And as the television news came on, with a report on the mission, his wife proudly told their daughter, “Look – that’s your dad!”


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‘We’re no heroes’: the dangerous, life-saving missions of Hong Kong’s Government Flying Service

The view from a Government Flying Services (GFS) helicopter rescue mission during Typhoon Chaba on 2 July 2022. A report had just come in from the Hong Kong Maritime Rescue Coordination Centre, about a ship that had lost power and was floundering in waves from Typhoon Chaba. It was taking in water, and nine people needed rescuing.&#xA;&#xA;CREDIT:  Government Flying Services

Photo of Team Air crewman from Government Flying Service (GFS) they rescue dozens of crew members aboard an engineering vessel that broke into two after being pummelled by Typhoon Chaba, which triggered the first No 8 warning signal of the year and brought intense winds and rain to the city.
03JUL22 SCMP / Felix Wong

Hong Kong’s Government Flying Service (GFS) team, including Peter Li, Cyrus Szeto (in orange), Clive Chapman, Karl Chan and Billy Cheung, that rescued crew members aboard a vessel that broke in two after being pummelled by Typhoon Chaba in July 2022. Photo: Felix Wong

The view from a Government Flying Services (GFS) helicopter rescue mission during Typhoon Chaba on July 2, 2022. Photo: Government Flying Services

An unconscious 58-year-old hiker, who went missing in Ma On Shan Country Park, sparking an overnight search, is winched to a GFS helicopter in March 2021. Photo: Facebook

GFS helicopters circle the blazing Garley Building on Nathan Road, Yau Ma Tei, trying to make their approach through the dense smoke, on November 20, 1996. Photo: C.Y. Yu

A crew member from a stricken vessel is winched aboard a GFS helicopter during Typhoon Chaba on July 2, 2022. Photo: Government Flying Services

A GFS helicopter winches up a survivor from stricken cargo vessel Sheng Li during Typhoon Nesat on October 17, 2022. Photo: Government Flying Services

A survivor is helped off a GFS helicopter after being rescued from a ship during Typhoon Nesat on October 17, 2022. Photo; Government Flying Services

Pilot Billy Cheung (left) and winchman Cyrus Szeto with an Airbus helicopter at the GFS hangar in Hong Kong. Photo: Martin Williams

The GFS rescues a hiker in Hong Kong in 2017.

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An excavator dumps dead pigs into a pit after killing them at a pig farm in Port Dickson in the south-western state of Negri Sembilan 02 March. Some 20,000 pigs will be killed to check the spread of the fetal Japanese encephalitis virus. AFP PHOTO  Upali ATURUGIRI (Photo by UPALI ATURUGIRI / AFP)

An excavator dumps pig carcasses into a pit at a farm in Port Dickson, Negeri Sembilan, in south­western Peninsular Malaysia, in March 1999, as part
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Malaysian soldiers wearing protective gear push infected pigs into a deep pit in a pig farm in a village in southwest Negeri Sembilan before shooting them with automatic rifles on April 16, 1999. Photo: AFP

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A Hong Kong government rescue helicopter. Photo: Nora Tam

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Rescuing people from sinking ships and burning buildings, the GFS crew have to stay calm amid frantic conditions. They recount their most memorable missions


Rescuing people from sinking ships and burning buildings, the crew of Hong Kong’s Government Flying Service have to stay calm amid frantic conditions. They recount their most memorable missions.


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‘We’re no heroes’: the dangerous, life-saving missions of Hong Kong’s Government Flying Service

.css-1mniedq{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;}Rescuing people from sinking ships and burning buildings, the GFS crew have to stay calm amid frantic conditions. They recount their most memorable missions

Rescuing people from sinking ships and burning buildings, the GFS crew have to stay calm amid frantic conditions. They recount their most memorable missions