Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

Mayday is the word used around the world to make a distress call via radio communications. Mayday signals a life-threatening emergency, usually on a ship or a plane, although it may be used in a variety of other situations. Procedure calls for the mayday distress signal to be said three times in a row — Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

24 Aug 1984, Hasimara, WB - Flaming Arrows: We had been operating a 4 aircraft detachment at Leh since April 1984, as the IAF fighter component of Op Meghdoot. I had returned to Hasimara for a short break, and was programmed to fly a 2 vs 1 air combat mission at around mid day. Bonny was the leader with Missy as his No 2, comprising the defender pair, and I was the lone attacker. The idea was to practice a few offensive/ defensive splits, in which the defender pair tries to present two distinct targets to the attacker, forcing him to choose, track and commit to one aircraft of the pair. The other defender of the pair then manoeuvres to position behind the attacker and get into a 'kill' situation, before the attacker can reach a kill situation with the other defender. Those were the days of guns and short range air to air missiles, where-in most air combat was in the visual range. Kill is when one is in a position to launch his weapon at his adversary; range, angle-off and tracking wise. All of this is filmed in the air, so as to effect a professional debrief on ground. A 2-minute combat in the air sometimes takes hours to debrief untangling the manoeuvres; and claims of kill.

Hunter Aircraft

Image Courtesy: Bharat Rakshak

The defender pair had positioned itself in fighting position, and I was positioned at about 2.0 to 2.5 kms astern, with a 50 knots overtake speed. Combat, combat, Go! I am trying to catch up while keeping both aircraft in contact. I can hear the leader call out the split, as we are all on the same channel, as this is not real combat. I decide to go for the lower of the two while trying to keep the other in contact. I am turning hard left behind the lower aircraft, slowly catching up with them, with my head turned fully to the left & upwards, looking well inside my turn to keep the aircraft in contact. I glance right for the other aircraft, and look back at the aircraft I am tracking. Something did not seem right, I tell myself and this time force myself to look right, inside the cockpit, at the fire warning light. 

I sensed right, my fire warning light is ON. I ease the turn, look down and check my jet pipe temperature (JPT) and engine oil pressure gauges. Both are off the clock. I immediately throttle back and ask my formation members to check my wake for smoke. Bonny responds, "Joe, you are trailing thick black smoke". Fire is confirmed. I now take the final action of pressing the fire warning light, to empty the fire extinguisher into the engine. The thick black smoke slowly dies out, and Bonny calls out that now the wake is clear of smoke. I am relieved and start to glide towards base. Mentally calculate my height and distance to base, get my speed to the best glide speed, settle down and make the call to ATC........... 

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

Fire in the Air; fire extinguished; Gliding towards base for a forced landing; 20 nms from base at 12000 ft.

I am now heading towards base, and can see the runway directly in-front. Suddenly the aircraft starts to roll to the left. I am in manual controls as the hydraulic power controls are lost. I try to stop the roll with the stick, by deflecting the stick to the right; aileron trimmer to the right, but the roll continues. As per the book, I jettison drop tanks, to rule out roll being caused due to unequal weight of fuel in the drop tanks. The aircraft continues to roll with increasing roll rate. As it gets into inverted position, I find that my nose has dropped about 60 degrees below the horizon, and the aircraft is no longer in my control. I decide to eject. This is a tough call, as one feels very secure in the cocoon-like structure of a fighter cockpit, where-in the pilot is more than familiar with every switch, instrument, and every other item. Getting out of this cocoon in the air is unthinkable, but this time there was no second thought needed.

Representative Image of an Ejection Seat firing from an Aircraft.

Image Courtesy: Google Images

I wait for the aircraft to come right side up, before pulling on the face blind ejection handle. As per the book, the canopy cartridges fire first and the canopy flies off due to the airflow lifting off the canopy from the front; the seat cartridges are supposed to fire after 0.75 seconds to give the canopy time to clear the aircraft tail. I am waiting, nothing happens; my entire life flashed in-front of eyes - my wife and 4 years old daughter ......... thoughts flash through my mind! 0.75 second looks like an eternity; no wonder it is said that time is our creation, and is relative. I am just in the process of moving my hands down to the seat pan handle, the alternate firing handle, as the aircraft roll and pitch rate have increased too much.

I hear a bang; I black out due to the g-forces. The first thing I do when I come back to my senses is, look up. Thank God; relieved to see the orange and white parachute deployed. I look around and see my squadron mates, both Bonny and Missy, orbiting around me. Comforted. Things couldn't get better than this, in this situation. I peer down. I am at about 12,000 feet and I can see the rivers Teesta, Toorsa and all the other tributaries going from the Himalayas to Bangladesh. I can see forests and high tension cables under me. It will take me about 20 minutes to hit the ground. I silently pray to God to spare me from falling onto high tension cables, the jungles or in the rivers. The ride down is slow; one does not have the mind frame to enjoy the beautiful view afforded by this unplanned slow descent towards the ground. It is comforting to have Bonny and Missy as company on the way down. I am sure they have informed ATC, and that a helicopter would be dispatched to pick me up.

As I keep coming down, I see huge crowds running down from all the villages around, from all directions, towards where I was likely to land. I see water all over. Monsoons in the East are unbelievable. As I approach the ground, I can see hundreds of faces looking up towards me, coming down strapped to a parachute. God had answered my prayers in His own graceful way; I land in the middle of a paddy field with knee deep water. People rush to help me, pick up my parachute and give me those bewildered looks. Language is a barrier; none of them speak Hindi or English; I do not speak Bengali/ Assamese; we are in an area on the West Bengal/ Assam border. I finally ask loudly, "Does any one understand Hindi". One young man comes forward. He is from the Army, on leave. Thank God. He speaks a little Hindi. I ask him to take me to a dry place, where a helicopter can land. He says that the village school playground is on raised ground and should be dry.

Our trudge to the playground commences with him in the lead, me following, with a huge crowd following thereafter along with my parachute and survival pack. As we approach the school play ground, I can see the chopper landing there. The chopper flight was in the process of packing up for the day, with the choppers already pushed inside the hangar. The hangar doors were being closed when the news of my ejection reached the Helicopter flight. Sqn Ldr Sengupta heard of it, ran down to the hangar and pulled out the chopper, with the others. They got airborne immediately. If I remember right, he was in uniform when he came to pick me up, as he did not waste time, on hearing about the ejection, to change into overalls. I got into the chopper and we were back in base in a short while. The squadron guys were all very happy to see me back, seemingly in one piece and fit. I requested them not to inform my wife, as she may get worried and that I would inform  her, after she had physically seen me in the hospital. I was taken to the Military Hospital to check out my spine for any injuries due to the ejection. I was admitted to the ward and another officer went home and fetched my wife to the hospital. She came down and was happy to see me hale and hearty, but was concerned about my mental well being, as I told her that I was now entitled to join the 'Caterpillar Club'. She told me later that my mental health was her biggest concern on hearing me discussing about joining caterpillars in a club.

I stayed in the Hospital for the mandatory X-rays and observation, after which I was discharged, fully fit. I went back to Leh, and returned with the squadron in September. 

I am grateful to Martin Baker, and all those connected with this event; people who made it possible for me to live to see another day. God is kind, and I am grateful. 

A court of inquiry was conducted. Hunters were on their last leg. Nothing conclusive came off the inquiry as the aircraft had burnt out. It was most likely a case of failure of the hydraulic pipelines, leading to a leak, fire, pipeline burst and loss of control. All is well that ends well. Hunters were slowly phased out in due course, one squadron at a time. Just over three months after my ejection, i.e. in December of 1984, our squadron was re-equipped with Jaguars. 

 

Military and Commercial Aviation - A View, Mine!

The last paragraph of an article that I have read so beautifully described everything that I too wish to state, based on my limited experience in commercial aviation, as also based solely on my perceptions. The paragraph is reproduced below.

At last I understood what true professionalism is. Being a pilot isn't all seat-of-the-pants flying and glory. It's self- discipline, practice, study, analysis and preparation. It's precision. If you can't keep the gauges where you want them with everything free and easy, how can you keep them there when everything goes wrong.

As a pilot with the IAF, I always considered the commercial licensed pilots as lesser mortals, who got the best of things, while we had to make do with what we had, even though, I felt that our job was more demanding. An example...

May 1984, Op Meghdoot, we were the 1st fighter sqn to land in Leh. We were put up, 2 to a room, with no running water in the bathroom, and with water stored in an empty tar drum outside the rooms & night temperatures of -6*C. We had a kerosene bukhari in the room but there was no legal supply of kerosene, as the supply was only authorised until 31 March. We were given 2 metal buckets to fill our washing needs from the tar drum outside, which was replenished twice a day by a bowser. Electricity was from a captive generator, if I remember right. We used to fill our bucket with water at night, and insert our bazooka (a wooden stick with a heater coil wrapped around it) in it at night, as the water would freeze at night. Get up in the morning, put the bazooka switch on & do all the ablutions/bathing with that 1 bucket. Life was good, we flew in the valleys, helicopter trip to Siachen glacier, with halts at Siala & Bilafondla, & being served warm orange juice laced with rum by our faujis on the glacier, at 17000'/ -55*C. However, we still envied the 5-star treatment of our commercial counterparts.

2006, I get my CPL and start my commercial flying with Blue Dart. I am sent to Johannesburg for my sim; boarding/ lodging in a 5-star resort & all travel plans, ticketing, etc done by the operations department. I feel like a son-in-law of the company. 3 weeks of ground school, and the sim session starts thereafter. I find that the instructor is being too fussy about the procedural aspects. Having 3200 hours on different types of aircraft as a pilot with the Air Force gives one an attitude of 'seen that, done that'. Finally clear the sim. Now the company wants me to fly some hours on the jump seat, followed by a few hours with a qualified co-pilot on the jump seat, while I fly as the u/t co-pilot. Finally, I get ‘released’ as a co-pilot. All I am initially permitted to do is walk around (external checks), checklist, get weather on ATIS, calculate speeds, set the speeds, R/T calls, and callout clear while taxiing, speeds on take-off, heights, checks & complete the navigation log. This seemed like pretty boring & mundane stuff for someone who had handled fast jets in varied terrains, heights & speeds in many different roles/ exercises, all demanding high levels of skill.

At Blue Dart, we operated only by night. As I commenced my line flying, I realised that there were no supervisors to brief/ see us off; a dispatcher would give us the weather, flight plan, fuel and communications briefing, handover two bags full of documents; the Captain was at liberty to ask for additional fuel, if he desired, depending on weather or congestion at destination. At the aircraft, the AME would be available for any queries. For any issues with the aircraft the Captain was required to consult the book on ‘go/ no go’ criteria. In short, it was the Captain who was required to take all decisions, and this becomes even more stark once the door is locked from inside; the Captain becomes wholly responsible for the duration of the flight of this living habitat, which has every possible thing that a mini township has; people, electricity, plumbing, galley, communications, sewerage, fire & safety systems, etc, in addition to the aircraft systems of hydraulics, engines, pneumatics, air conditioning, etc. In the ground classes you learn about regulations, weather, R/T, navigation, log keeping, CRM, technical, FDTL, etc. During the school, one aims to pass the exam, not realising that this is the only data that would be of help to take professional decisions, as there is no help available once the door is locked; it is just you, your crew, and your licence. This is much unlike the Air Force where the whole organisation is organised to provide backup to the launch, execution, and recovery of every sortie. Here there are multiple organisations; each with a professional, a licensed person, providing services, as per their licence, be it the flight crew, Met, ATC, AME, etc.

I started to fly in June; the monsoons had started to set in. Landing in to Mumbai at around midnight, with the aircraft wipers going at max speed, and the turbulence over the ghats never deterred the Captain to continue on the auto pilot coupled ILS, with me calling out the speeds and with nothing visible in front except blasts of rain hitting violently against the windshield. We flew the B-737-200, where-in the autopilot was cleared only upto and above 500’. The localiser and glide slope needles are stuck, right angles to each other. I callout 500’ – Captain disconnects autopilot and holds the needles at right angles while continuing with the approach to land. On my call ‘minimums’, he would call landing, if he had the visual cues to land, which are specified in the regulations, or plan a missed approach, briefing for which was already done prior to commencement of descent. Every flight was a steep learning experience for me; in spite of my 3200 hours of flying experience, there were many things that were new to me. Many a night we flew through a wall of towering Cbs, with lightening all around; the weather radar would help us find a gap, ATC would clear our detours, & we would squeeze through the gap. Latest weather at destination, weather at most likely diversions, as the route progressed were sought, fuel consumption/ fuel remaining were closely monitored. Flying to the absolute limits was the norm with balanced field length RTOW, V-speed calculations, before every flight.

I remember one night; I had a Captain who was in his mid-twenties, on a four leg flight from Chennai to Delhi, via Hyderabad, Mumbai, & Ahmedabad. We were rolling for take-off at about midnight, with full load; I had called 100 kts, and was in the process of calling out V1, when there was a loud bang on the windscreen and a burning smell in the cockpit. All I heard from the Captain was ‘Continuing’. We rotated, checked engine parameters, all was normal, and he decided to continue to Mumbai. Got the engine checked at Mumbai, and found no damage, as the bird had most likely gone through the fan stage, as generally happens. This incident highlighted the quick decision making required at that stage of flight, a delay of 1” to abort at that stage could have the aircraft about 220 yds in the overrun area, if I remember my calculations right, after about 14 years now.

Considering my experience, I had thought I would be ready to sit on the left seat after completing 100 hours as co-pilot, as required by the company Operations Manual. I did not feel competent to even ask my Chief Pilot for the same, on completion of the regulatory 100 hours in the right seat. The variables, monsoons, the total responsibility was all new and a bit disconcerting. Flying from 9 pm to about 8 am taught one the practical lessons on fatigue, window of Circadian low, and importance of following the FDTL, in letter and spirit. 5-star stays no longer looked like comfort, but a basic need to be able to perform in an environment highly dependent on good decision making by the crew, with minimal oversight from anyone else in the organisation; backups of SFS, Flt Cdr, Sqn Cdr, COO, ATC, Met, SUs, etc are not the norm. It is you and your licence. An example….

Our company bought an aircraft from China. A crew was detailed to go and fly it in. The Captain went up to the CEO and told him to change the crew, as both crew members had never been to China before. The CEO replied that no one in the company had been there, & so there was limited choice. Besides, he said that you have an ATPL, & you are well qualified to undertake this task. Matter ended. The crew brought the aircraft from China.

Having operated as a co-pilot only, in commercial aviation, I am sure there are better qualified commercial pilots in this group to comment on what I am going to say. My experience of about one year in commercial aviation taught me that as the name suggests commercial aviation is all about making money and is basically geared for that in terms of organisation. Being a public service, it is highly regulated and has licenced nearly every critical component that makes up civil aviation. Each person is a professional in his own field, and so are the flight crew. The Captain carries the can for each flight and for every decision made. Others assist him within the ambit of their licence; decision making rests solely with the Captain, with minimal supervisory oversight. The IAF on the other hand is a national asset; the whole nation pays for its upkeep, & also depends on it to provide national security. The Air Force organisation stands solidly behind every sortie that gets airborne; there are supervisory oversights at every stage, in peace. Risk is inherent, and is accepted as part of mission accomplishment. In commercial aviation, safety is paramount, and understandably so. In IAF, skills are paramount; commercial aviation is more procedural, not that skills are not important. Both have their strengths and are equally demanding in their respective ways. It took me an exposure to commercial aviation to understand this simple fact, which used to sometimes come up in our crew room conversations.

After having taught CRM and human factors, I can safely say that one’s reality is based on one’s perception, which is totally dependent on one’s ‘experiences’ & ‘learning’ in life. Looking at the same facts, two individuals will perceive the same situation differently because of the above. I am now convinced that each has a role and has created an organisation/ structure/ systems/ procedures to meet that role. Both are right and have their strengths. One is not better or worse. Commercial aviation has gained tremendously with the inflow of Air Force pilots in terms of developing good training ethos, teamwork, leadership – the strong points of the IAF. I am convinced that the Hudson river ditching was perfect, largely because Captain Sully was an ex-USAF pilot. His actions, communications, & decision making were exemplary, as were his skills, and after ditching, so was his concern for each of his crew and passengers. The IAF would gain equally if they interact more with the civil aviation in terms of procedures, rules, etc. The two are vital components of a nation’s airpower and would both benefit with closer interaction that will eventually lead to a healthy transfer of their inherent strengths.