What could have been…….. but what was not

 

This story is by Gp Capt Ashwani Bhakoo(Retired), my coursemate from NDA. The piece has been reproduced here with his kind permission. He is a gallant Hunter.

Ashwani is now a qualified Psychologist and because of that I say: Quiet flows the adrenaline now.

In Jan 1980, after my training, I was posted to the first operational fighter  squadron, the No. 28 Sqn Air Force, called the First Supersonic. Flying the Mig 21, T-77 was simply awesome and we were at the top of the world. 

It was a beautiful Thursday morning on 04 Sep 1980, with clear skies washed deep blue by the departing monsoon. Flying was in full swing and our operational syllabus was accelerated after the slowdown in the monsoon months. 

Low flying was the new training phase and this required high focus as the reaction times for flying at 780 kmph at 150 mts above ground were now reduced to a fraction of a second. Any mistake at this height and the ground was just 0.5seconds away. 

The monsoon had left the mighty Brahmaputra in spate and large areas of Tezpur were under water. Bird activity was very high due to many animals being swept away by the mighty river breaking its banks leading to the birds feasting on the floating carcasses. 

It was on this fateful day of 04 September 1980 that I was programmed for carrying out a Low Level Navigation at 150 meters above ground at a speed of 780 kmph. The maps were prepared and Sqn Ldr V  the decided to be my chase to ensure safety, as the rules dictate that no fighter aircraft shall fly single at low levels. The route selected that day  ensured that we stayed clear of the Brahmaputra and avoided flying over the flooded river. Sqn Ldr V checked the  maps, briefed for the sortie and revised the actions for emergencies at low level and we were off with me in the lead  doing the low level navigation. 

The first leg was uneventful, though realisation dawned that the mighty Brahmaputra had breached its banks and the entire area was flooded. We could not avoid flying over the massively flooded Brahmaputra specially as we approached our second point. The raging river was scary and the birds were all over. It was on the second leg, while I was looking for checkpoints that the worst fears of a fighter pilot manifested and I had a head on collision with a large eagle. The loud thud of the eagle hitting the aircraft at 780 kmph brought all my focus to the front.  Half the eagle went into the engine and the other splattered the front windshield with its blood and remains. 

The engine quit and the dreaded 'low level bird hit engine failure over water' manifested itself in its full form. The cockpit instrument panel went berserk, the engine rpm winding down, engine temperature heading to zero, oil pressure dropping, the orange and red warning lights blinking and the master blinker flashing in all its glory. The head phones were filled with the screeching warnings trying to wake up the numb brain. With just 50 hours experience on the Mig and a total of less than 300 hours of flying experience it was simply crazy in that cockpit. The survival instinct coupled with hours of training hammered in by the instructors took over. Adrenaline flooded the body. Despite the brain being in shock, the hands moved on their own and the immediate action to ease back on the stick and gain height by converting speed to height while checking instruments for damage was smoothly executed. During this time Sqn Ldr V was going beserk trying to call me on radio to find out why I was climbing.  My jammed brain, with all the cockpit warning sounds, was responding without pressing the radio transmit button - "can't you see what has happened - I have a bird hit flameout". The brain was just focused on the speed reduction and the height being gained. I eased up to nearly 1100 mts by the time the speed reduced to 400 kmph - the lowest handling speed at which point now height had to be converted to speed if I did not want to fall out of the sky. I lowered the nose into a glide. All this time my mind was frantically going over the actions of "bird hit engine flameout". I adjusted the throttle and reached for the engine restart switch while maneuvering the aircraft to get out of the flooded Brahmaputra and onto dry land. It is said that a Mig 21 after a bird hit flame out will not relight as the engine would have been shattered by the bird. Well, I had to try, there was no option, I was not going to eject into the Brahmaputra and be swept to Kolkata and out to sea by the raging river. The relight button is positioned on the left hand side wall of the cockpit just above the throttle, it is guarded by a metal bracket to make it stand out and a technician puts a 0.005 mm locking wire across the mouth of the bracket to ensure that the switch is not put on inadvertently. It is positioned in such a manner that it can be flicked 'On' by a single finger as there is no further access. 

While I was gaining height and having realised that my engine had quit, I wanted to put on the relight button but it just would not budge. I just could not put it on as the protective wiring was a bundle of many 0.005mm locking wires twisted together blocking access to the relight button. The top of the climb had been reached, the glide started, the Brahmaputra was staring at me and I could not put the relight button "On". Survival & adrenaline again kicked in and I hammered the switch guard with my fist, finally succeeding in breaking the guard though I could not break the wire. The switch was free and as I commenced descent, I put it "On". 

Nothing happened. Ejection into the Brahmaputra stared me in the face. I was approaching the critical height for ejection in a descent in a Mig 21 as these were not "Zero height Zero speed" ejection seats. The ejection seat needed height and speed for a safe ejection. I tightened my straps, gave a call and continued gliding to get out of the Brahmaputra and then the miracle happened - the RPM flickered, the Engine temperature started rising, the oil pressure started moving up. I was running out of time to eject but I patiently persisted and at about 300 meters the engine started. I tentatively eased the throttle forward and slowly picked up the nose to start a shallow climb, not stopping before I reached 2000 mtrs and turned towards base. The time lapse in all this was only a few seconds but for me time had stood still, for the world & specially Sqn Ldr V, the Radar and the ATC, time had raced. I received a lot of instructions and was given a priority landing. A safe landing was done and the aircraft was brought to a halt on the Runway apron where it was immediately surrounded by the rescue vehicles. 

The adrenaline which had pumped itself into my system to help me survive slowly started ebbing and the world started making sense again. A burly Sardar from the rescue team stood towering over me trying to get me out of the cockpit. He insisted, I refused his help and came down the ladder on my own but, as my foot touched the ground the adrenaline finally gave up and I collapsed into the comforting arms of the burly Sardar. 

I recovered fast in the ambulance and after a brief visit to the Sick quarters reached the Squadron where Mrs Singh (The CO's wife) had sent me a big bowl of Rasgullas with a note - "What could have been…….. but what was not. God Bless". 

On inspection it was found that 40% of the engine blades had been broken/twisted and it was a miracle that the engine had started. I was debriefed and planned to fly the very next day again. The miracle of life goes on……