IAF Hunters over the Himalayas
A little background on how I found myself in Hasimara where I came across David D’Bras and our mental and professional state is essential to this story. On 4th of December 1968, after being shunted out of Operational Training Unit (OTU) in Jamnagar with just 13 odd hours on Hunters instead of the 50 hours specified in the syllabus, I reported to 37 Squadron in Hasimara. I still recall we were about nine of us from 98 GD(P) posted to Hasimara from OTU distributed between the two operational Hunter squadrons there, 17 and 37. Amongst the memorable course mates in this lot were Anil “Sinch” Sinha, KR ‘Keru” Singh, Derek Daly and JS “Jagga” Brar, the latter two going to 17 Squadron. Imagine my shock and horror on the morning of the 4th when I reported to the Squadron in my best uniform, peak cap and log book, with barely 200 hours of flying in there including training flying, and the senior lot, including the Commanding Officer, barely looked at us. The CO, then Wing Commander MM “Rusty” Sinha, just shook our hands and rushed off for flying, or whatever, saying “I would see you around” as he left. I soon realised the reason for this cold reception; I was 35th in the seniority in the squadron which normally in peace-time had 20 pilots on its strength. To top it all, we had little flying experience, particularly on the Hunter, and the senior squadron lot would be required to train us when they already had their hands full with more than 20 under training pilots senior to me even with laid-down serviceability of aircraft. Due to such large numbers of pilots as a result of the large inductions after the 1962 War, we got little flying. Due to the regular breaks, the few sorties that I flew in the next six months till June 1969, were a dual check, due to the break, followed by a solo handling sortie and another long break. Most of my flying was as second pilot in Dakotas at Jorhat/Kumbhigram for flying bounty, as it was called then. By June 1969, we had 52 pilots in the squadron with me still around the 33rd or so. Due to few prospects of getting flying and a lot of temptation to become an alcoholic or get onto drugs, I submitted a very polite resignation to the CO so that I could get back to my engineering course and career, having done three years of the 5 year degree course before joining the Air Force. Rusty Sinha was a little upset and didn’t seem to be keen to forward my application, perhaps due to the fact that I was first in fighters in my course. I pleaded with him that the application was not meant to be against anybody or the organisation but only because the Air Force seemed to have surplus pilots. I also told him that I had got a taste of being a fighter pilot having flown the Hunter a bit and, perhaps, it was time for me to make my career in aeronautical engineering. However, Rusty Sinha asked me to first go on 45 days leave after which he promised to start my flying training in earnest. I promptly got onto my new Royal Enfield motorcycle and rode it all the way to Indore and then to Delhi and Chandigarh getting back to the squadron in early August, feeling quite like the Easyrider. Nothing happened again for a month, and on 14 September 1969 I put up another application requesting release from the Air Force for the same reasons. Rusty Sinha called me to the Flight Commander’s office, then occupied by my namesake Squadron Leader Harish “Bhaiji” Singhal. Rusty told Singhal, “Bhaiji, start this young man’s flying” to which pat came the reply that I hadn’t flown for months and required a dual check for which the trainer was unserviceable. I stood quietly with an expression of “I told you so”. However, Rusty was not deterred and asked me if I was confident of flying solo. I promptly said yes and they put me on the programme the very next day for a solo handling sortie with late Flight Lieutenant SG Khonde as chase to watch how I perform. After Khonde confirmed that I had done all the aerobatics well, I was programmed for a close formation sortie the next day with Flight Lieutenant David D’Bras. It was with such a cynical state when I first dealt with David professionally.
I had met David earlier in the squadron and his charming wife, Colleen, in social functions in the nine months that I had spent in Hasimara by then. David was reputed to be a good flier but somewhat reticent in his briefings while expecting juniors to fly to his standards or expectations. He also had a reputation for sending people back half-way through the sortie if they did not cope. I remember much later when I was Number 4 in finger-four formation with David in the lead doing aerobatics when the Number 3 started cutting inside too much in a barrel roll and lost contact with the leader. Immediately, David sent him back to base continuing his formation aerobatics with the remaining three aircraft formation. I may highlight here that the squadrons had the luxury of surplus pilots those days and anyone who didn’t perform to the desired standards generally found himself on his way for some ground duty job or course. David was also known to have a sharp tongue and could lash people with sarcasm if required. Most people were, therefore, a little scared and avoided arguments with him. Further, David was a good shooter and owned some personal weapons due to which he was also given the pet name of “Bwana” or the “Great white Hunter” with Flying Officer SS “Garry” Grewal of 96th GD(P) as his faithful follower, gun-bearer or sidekick. However, Colleen was very friendly and understanding of the plight of us youngsters and I recall having some long and interesting conversations with her during socials in the Mess. Through these conversations, I learnt something about social graces and etiquette from her. She was also a good dancer so we used to imitate her and pick up some good dancing moves from her. Unfortunately, David spent very little time in the squadron after we started flying together, and got more friendly, since he was keen on leaving the Air Force. David was more of a freelancer and lone wolf who wanted to do his own thing without restrictions or orders from anyone. Well, each to his own personality. As I expected from his reputation, David gave me a laconic briefing the next morning, while sitting on the raised verandah of the squadron complex puffing on his usual charminar. All he said was, “Check in on Echo. After take-off, join up in starboard echelon, 5 minutes there, then 5 minutes in Port and 5 minutes in line astern. Thereafter, we’ll see”. He didn’t specify what position he expected during take-off or in any of the close formation positions nor did he brief me on any techniques to maintain position. Soon, we were doing almost 3-4g turns in starboard and port echelon formation positions. With a lot of sweat and heavy breathing since I had not done close formation since training days two years before. I managed to hold onto some semblance of close formation and avoided a “return to base” call from David. After a few minutes in line astern position wherein he did a loop and a barrel roll, came a cryptic call from David saying just “400”. I acknowledged but didn’t really know what 400 meant nor did I have the courage to ask him since he might have sent me back to base followed by a ground assignment. Scratching my head, though under a crash helmet/bone-dome, it took me a few seconds which seemed like an eternity, before my sitting on the ground for almost nine months paid off. It came to me that I used to watch aircraft overhead doing tail chase where they seemed to be maintaining a distance of about 400 yards. Heaving a sigh of relief, I quickly moved back to what I estimated was a distance of 400 yards and called “In Position”. David now threw the aircraft around in hard turns and reversals, loops and barrel rolls and a combination of all these as hard as he could trying to throw me out of position and make me overshoot him. Once again, God was with me and with all the observations on the phase difference between the lead and the chase aircraft while sitting on the ground, somehow I managed to hold on and didn’t give David a chance to send me back in shame. The next trip with David again, a couple of days later, was tactical formation with a similar cryptic briefing. After a few minutes in fighting position, David called up “1000”. This time, I was prepared and quickly moved off to about 1000 yards abreast of David or what I estimated to be a 1000 yards. As soon as I called in position, David started manoeuvring for a 1 Vs 1 combat. Once again, while he tried almost every trick he knew, I didn’t let him get behind me. Soon, we were barreling around each other almost in a vertically down plane, both aircraft having washed off speed, and were well below the laid-down floor level of 10,000 feet when David called off the combat by giving a call of just “Straight Ahead”.
I then realised that this was David’s way of assessing the capabilities of the younger pilot and choosing the ones to fly with before he shared his knowledge and really started teaching them. Having gauged me in this manner in two sorties, David now started talking to me and started briefing me on certain tricks and manoeuvres. As just one example, he briefed me on positioning for ranging and tracking by counting till three and then asking the lead to reverse to position for an attack quickly without wasting time or fuel. He then flew a lot with me throughout my training syllabus whenever he could push himself as the leader for me on the programme and I kept picking up something or the other from him in each sortie. Thanks to such grounding and pushing by David, I slowly formulated my own theory of paths which helped me tremendously in all future tactical flying including tail chase and combat. With a scientific bent of mind due to my engineering background, I had to figure out the theory and reasoning behind every bit of flying instead of just relying purely on instinct and feel. The combination of these two approaches worked well for me. From even late Hasimara days and in the Instructors’ Course in 1974, I was teaching this theory of paths to all my subordinates as well as some seniors, who were interested, so that they could improve their own tactical flying skills. For example, most of my training patter sorties in FIS as a student were spent on my instructor, Praveen Badhwar, since he was trying to change over to fighters from transports. My only regret is that I never wrote this theory down and circulate it all over the Air Force. An excuse I make is my frequent moves in the initial years where I was doing an average of just 13 months in a squadron/unit till I became a CO myself of the new MiG-29 squadron. Even in those 13 months, I used to be on detachments or courses more than half the times whereby even 28 Squadron, which I commanded for almost two years, gave me a calendar as a farewell gift marking the days when I was in Poona, the home base, as “back on temporary duty”. But, honestly, I admit all that is merely an excuse. Such a hard grind, followed by nuggets of wisdom, from David coupled with Babla Senapati’s technique (covered in the last issue), helped me develop as a fighter pilot. At the cost of being called immodest, I would like to mention that it was due to such training that I did not let anyone get behind me in 1 Vs 1 throughout my career except for one occasion. I have no shame in admitting that on that one occasion against Flt Lt Ambekar in MiG-29s in Poona when I was the AOC, my helmet was borrowed and a little loose. This slipped over my eyes as soon as we started combat and I pulled ‘g” which made me lose contact with him almost immediately. In the second situation, “God was my Co-pilot”, as inscribed on my helmets from the day I started flying in the Air Force, and I could retrieve the situation and reputation back to one-all. Some folks even pulled up into the sun to try and shake me off their tail when they found themselves at a disadvantageous position but, as learnt from David, I would just move slightly to one side and keep the adversary aircraft out of the sun and in contact till he lost speed and started downward when I would cut in and close the distance to take a shot. The theory of paths also later helped me tremendously in keeping track of the relative position of own and adversary aircraft in group combat thereby arriving at a favourable outcome in combat and during regroups. As Flight Commander of 1 Squadron and later, CO of 28 Squadron, I tried to pass all this on to my subordinates.
(All photos: IAF. For representational purposes only)