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.
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.
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.
