A stylishly clad Leila Khaled, in white bell-bottoms and matching hat, boards the flight from Beirut to Rome. The person sitting next to her is a clean-cut sociable American on his way to New York. She knows that Americans, like most other tourists, like to make casual conversation about everything under the sun. He must be bored, and he wants to talk.
—“Where are you going?” he asks.
—“I am going to Rome,” she replies.
—“Why are you going to Rome?” he continues. Khaled pauses momentarily to fabricate an answer, and says with simulated shyness, —“I am going to meet my fiancé who is coming from London to meet me in Rome in a few days.”
—“How on earth would an Arab girl be going to Rome to meet her fiancé alone and get married?” he asks. In truth, Leila Khaled is on her way to Rome in order to hijack the TWA Boeing-707 that will be leaving for Tel Aviv in a couple of days.

Once airborne her other accessories appear: a pistol and a hand grenade. As she makes her way towards the cockpit, her companion, Salim Issawi, announces that the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) is now in command of the very first American airliner hijacked in the Middle East. Captain Carter, looking down the barrel of a pistol, is obliged to agree.
—“What shall I do now?” asks Carter.
—“Let’s take a seven-minute tour of the fatherland.” The image of her father appears before Leila’s eyes, while she can hear his voice saying, “When will we return home?” Her whole world comes together. She is silent. She looks out at the greenery and mountains of Palestine. She can see Tel Aviv below. She weeps out of affection and longing.

Extract from Khaled, L., My People Shall Live: Autobiography of a Revolutionary (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1973)