Eagles Over Bangladesh

Eagles Over Bangladesh

Preface
In December 2003, we finished our first book on military aviation history, The India-Pakistan Air War of 1965, the first of its kind chronicling the Indian Air Force’s (IAF) effort in the 1965 war. Almost immediately we knew we had to chronicle the IAF’s effort in the 1971 war. Even though, unlike 1965, some accounts had been written about the 1971 air war, there was still an opportunity for an accurate and comprehensive single point of reference to be written.
After The India-Pakistan Air War of 1965 was published in June 2005, we started work on the 1971 air war project. We soon realized we had taken on a truly gigantic task. The 1971 air war involved twice the effort of the 1965 air war in two-thirds the duration. It was fought on two fronts, thousands of miles apart, in two weeks of intense fighting. Just one day’s operations in the 1971 war would attain many of the statistical goals achieved by the IAF in the entire 1965 war. The work involved in chronicling this air war was daunting. Two years on, we decided we would split the book into two volumes. The first volume would cover the operations in the east, the second, operations in the west. What was supposed to have been a quick project, turned into an almost eight-year effort. The years that passed saw Jagan move to the US, and start his career in a new line of work, even as his family responsibilities increased. Meanwhile Samir grew busy with his academic responsibilities and research. These changes in our lives had an impact on our timelines and schedules for this book.
Even though we now restricted ourselves to one front, it was still not an easy task. Unravelling the operations conducted on the very first day of the air war, 4 December 1971, was the most critical challenge we faced. That day saw the most intensive aerial operations of the war; unravelling the sequence of events through the day required months of meticulous research.
Our sources of information for the book include interviews with Indian Air Force (IAF) personnel that fought in the war, war diaries of squadrons, open source material available from both India and Pakistan, including magazine articles, fictionalized accounts and books by Indian and Pakistan army personnel that addressed the conflict on the ground. While the IAF itself has apparently made some records publicly accessible in the Ministry of Defence Historical Cell, time and distance prevented us from consulting them. Still, our contact with ex-IAF personnel provided us with unique information: pilot’s logbook scans, never before published photographs and personal details on the men who fought the war. We used several unpublished reports to crosscheck details and verify claims. We were lucky in that, early on, we ran into several sources that provided us with access to some official records, which proved invaluable. One criticism we faced in our previous book was that we gave inadequate coverage to some squadrons; this was mostly due to paucity of information and lack of contacts. To prevent a similar issue in this book, we tried to get as much information as possible on all the units that took part in the operation.
In the final analysis this remains an entirely private effort to chronicle the history of the 1971 Liberation War.
P.V.S. Jagan Mohan: jagan@warbirdsofindia.com Samir Chopra: schopra@brooklyn.cuny.edu

Introduction

Eagles Over Bangladesh: The Indian Air Force in the 1971 Liberation War, like our book on the 1965 war, aims to fill in the gaps regarding a military conflict that took place almost four decades ago. In December 1971, Bangladesh was born. Its birthing was among the most painful of any new nation: it had suffered a brutal genocide conducted by its former countrymen from West Pakistan, and a war for liberation fought between the indigenous Mukti Bahini (Liberation Army) and the Indian armed forces on one side, and the West Pakistani armed forces on the other. Scholars and historians of war have often hailed the Indian military intervention in the former East Pakistan as a classic example of a just war’, one fought to prevent catastrophic human disastersmass killings and rape being the most prominent-from growing even worse. While armed conflict between the Mukti Bahini and the West Pakistan Army had commenced almost immediately after the West Pakistani crackdown in the east began in early 1971, Indian military involvement began only much later in the year, before open war broke out on the western and eastern fronts in December 1971. War ended quickly; the West Pakistan Army surrendered in Dacca two weeks after it began, while away in the west, a stalemate had developed. A significant factor in facilitating the Indian Army’s rapid progress to Dacca was the Indian Air Force (IAF), which having learned a great deal from its mixed record in the 1965 war with Pakistan, proved itself to be a formidable fighting force: it quickly neutralized the Pakistan Air Force (PAF) as an opponent, and provided deadly, timely and accurate firepower from the air to support the Indian Army on the ground. The IAF flew a variety of missions in the Liberation War’s eastern front: counter-air raids on airfields including steep-glide dive-bombing attacks on runways, air combat with PAF Sabres, helicopter-borne operations, paradropping, shipping attacks and so on. As in the 1965 war, the IAF used aircraft beyond their intended performance profiles. It lost men and aircraft alike, but continued to function as an efficient force throughout the war. It made mistakes too, but learnt from them quickly. Our book begins with a brief description of the events that influenced the development of the Indian and Pakistan air forces in the years leading up to the war. These chapters help the reader to appreciate the challenges confronting these forces: in each case, the political circumstances of India and Pakistan drove their respective purchasing policies. This facilitates, with some brief technical detail, an examination of the orders of battle in 1971. (As might be expected, our discussion of the political background to the Bengali secessionist movement, its foundations in the Partition of India, and West Pakistani-East Pakistani relations is necessarily brief; the interested reader can find a wealth of material on this subject in many other sources.) Our treatment includes the story of the Bengali officers of the PAF who defected to India to form the Kilo Flight, which would eventually constitute the nucleus of the Bangladesh Air Force after the war. Our narrative of the IAF’s air offensive over Bangladesh relies on a day-by-day recounting of its activities, commencing with the raids on Dacca on the first day of the war, and moving on to the final coup de grace delivered on the Governor’s House in Dacca. Wherever possible, we have provided first-person descriptions from IAF pilots.

ONE
The IAF between the Wars
On 15 July 1969, at Hindon Air Force Station, Air Chief Marshal Arjan Singh, a man assured of legendary status amongst his peers for a career spanning the earliest days of the IAF, its service in World War II, and its first taste of serious action in the 1965 war with Pakistan, handed over the reins of office to his successor, Air Marshal Pratap Chandra Lal. During a farewell ceremony that mingled the traditional with the modern, Arjan Singh stood in the cockpit of a MiG-21 FL towed by his staff officers. The symbolism of the air chief’s exit in one of the IAF’s newest acquisitions was unmistakable; a new era had begun. Arjan Singh’s tenure as air chief-just fifteen days short of five years-had been exceeded only by that of the late Air Marshal Subroto Mukherjee. By the time of his retirement, the IAF was a radically different and improved force, an achievement of which he could be justifiably proud. When Arjan Singh took over the IAF on 1 August 1964 from Air Marshal Aspy Merwan Engineer, he had inherited an air force rapidly expanding in squadron numbers and aircraft types, but suffering a severe shortage in experienced pilots. A massive training programme introduced after the 1962 Sino-Indian war ensured a vastly increased pilot intake but with concomitant difficulties in training and operationalization. Among other teething troubles, well-established units had to send their most experienced pilots to newly raised units to facilitate their attainment of operational status. Such an immense and fundamental transition in India’s fraught security environment made for an unenviable task.
Less than a year after Arjan Singh took over as chief, the IAF was at war. A meeker man might have protested the escalation of hostilities as the Indian Army asked for air support to repel the Pakistan Army’s invasion of the Chamb area in September 1965, but Arjan Singh did no such thing. Instead, the IAF kicked off a full-blown air war that like the battles raging on the ground-became a slogging match for twenty-two days. The 1965 war, which featured for the first time jet fighters from the opposing forces engaging in combat, was, to say the least, a learning experience for the IAF. Operationally and tactically, the IAF suffered in comparison to the PAF but it was still able to foil its counterpart as the air war petered out into a stalemate. By the war’s end, the IAF had lost nineteen officers and twentyone airmen; seven officers became prisoners of war. Thirty-six aircraft were lost in flying operations while thirty-five were lost on the ground to the PAF’s raids. But the IAF prevented the attainment of the most significant Pakistani objectives in the war and supported the Indian Army in its ground offensives. The IAF also helped restore the Indian armed forces’ reputation, which had taken a battering during the 1962 Sino-Indian war. A grateful Indian government awarded Arjan Singh the Padma Vibhushan and, in January 1966, the Indian government upgraded the rank of the CAS from Air Marshal to Air Chief Marshal, making the position equal in rank and stature to that of the Chief of Army Staff.
After the war, Arjan Singh set about reorganizing the IAF, for the air war had revealed manifold weaknesses in its middle-level leadership, conduct of operations, readiness, and war doctrines. Some station commanders and command-level officers were found wanting in their conduct of operations; Arjan Singh had to take the harsh decision to relieve at least five officers, of wing commander rank and above, of their duties.
In January 1966, the PAF and IAF exchanged prisoners of war. The seven IAF POWs were flown to Delhi on 22 January 1966, and given a hero’s welcome. The IAF reception party included the POW’s families and the air chief. The three PAF POWs returned by the same PAF flight; their experiences make for a separate, fascinating, tale.?
Three months later, as part of the confidence building measures undertaken by the two forces, Arjan Singh visited Pakistan; the PAF chief, Air Marshal Nur Khan, received the IAF Tupolev124 that flew him to Peshawar. Arjan Singh and Nur Khan, good friends from their pre-Independence service with the Royal Indian Air Force, exchanged-besides pleasantries–notes on their understandably differing perceptions of the 1965 air operations. Equally unsurprisingly, Arjan Singh was a guest at Nur Khan’s residence during his stay. THE TASK AT HAND The IAF faced the pressing need to replace three squadrons worth of aircraft-seventeen Hunters, eighteen Mysteres, seven Gnats and six Canberras-that had been lost in combat and noncombat incidents in the 1965 war. None of these aircraft, with the exception of the Gnat, were produced indigenously. Though the IAF’s base repair depots held replacement aircraft to cover some losses, with the exception of the Hunters, these aircraft would not be used again for daylight strikes against airfields. The IAF’s Vampires and Ouragans were obsolete; the six squadrons operating them would be disbanded or re-equipped. Despite the Gnat’s stellar wartime record, it still had teething troubles; the range limitations of the Hunters and My steres also spoke of the need for a replacement. Thus, including war losses, nine IAF squadrons required replacements or newer models. The IAF was fortunate that its arms suppliers were cooperative: Britain could be counted on to provide equipment ranging from tanks to ships to aircraft, and the newly minted relationship with Russia continued to prosper. Though the United States had imposed an embargo on combat-related equipment and spares on both India and Pakistan, its effect was less keenly felt on Indian arms procurement. The 1965 operations had taught the IAF the inadequacy of its existing aircraft for counter air missions. The IAF had depended on Hunters and Mysteres, but neither had sufficient range to loiter over airbases for target selection, or mount a low level attack on distant airfields such as Peshawar or Mauripur. This also meant the IAF could not fly close support missions in cab rank fashion, limiting its effectiveness in facilitating the ground forces’ objectives. The Hunters’ and Mysteres’ payload limitations meant neither type could inflict significant damage in ground strikes. The Mystere was also extremely vulnerable to PAF fighters like the F-86 Sabre. The Canberra did possess the range to strike Peshawar or Mauripur, but its vulnerability by daylight necessitated its exclusive use for night operations. THE LONG-RANGE HUNTER The IAF had initially procured 160 single-seater Hunters to equip six squadrons; these were the mainstay of its fighter division in the early sixties. By 1966, a quarter had been lost in peacetime and wartime operations. The choice of attrition reserves, as well

as of an aircraft with extended combat range, was made easier by the willingness of the British to export the Hunter’s improved FGA Mk.9 variant. Following the induction by the RAF of the English Electric Lightning supersonic fighter in the interception role, Hunters began to be relegated to ground attack roles, leading to the development of the FGA Mk.9. The older Hunter Mk.6 (Mk.56 in IAF service) carried four 100-imperial-gallon (454 litres) tanks on its four hard points under the wings in addition to its internal capacity of 390 imperial gallons (1,770 litres). The FGA MK.9, in contrast, carried two 230-gallon (1,044 litres) tanks on its inner pylons while retaining two of the older 100-gallon tanks on the outer pylons extending its fuel capacity to nearly twice that of the internal fuel. This was made possible through strengthened wings and modified trailing edge flaps with a section cut away to allow carriage of longer drop tanks. A small brace linked the tank to the wing outboard of the store’s pylon; this helped support the tank and reduced stress on the pylons. The brace entailed a disadvantage in turning air combat, as it prevented the tanks from being jettisoned (the Mk.56 allowed tanks to be jettisoned). The FGA MK.9 featured increased oxygen supply for the pilot and brake parachute from the trainer variant. Like the Mk.56, the FGA MK.9 could carry twenty-four three-inch T10 rockets-a typical load was eight to twelve rockets-on specially fitted rocket rails, four on each wing, which could only be fitted in lieu of the outboard pylons. The Avon Mark 207 engine, with 10,050 lbf maximum thrust was standard for this ‘improved Hunter. Between June 1966 and March 1970, fifty-three refurbished Hunter FGA.9s-re-designated Mk.56A in IAF service-were ferried to India by IAF pilots (the aircraft were drawn from former service with the Royal Netherlands Air Force [RNAF), the Belgian Air Force and the RAF); twelve Hunter T.66D trainers were procured from the RNAF. All IAF Hunter squadrons received one or two aircraft for conversion training; some went to the newly raised Operational Training Unit (OTU), some to 20 and 27 Squadrons, based at Pathankot in the western sector. The other Hunter squadrons-Nos. 7, 14, 17 and 37—flew the earlier Mk.56 and were based in the eastern sector.
The OTU was raised at Jamnagar under Wing Commander C.V. Parker on 1 October 1966 and charged with ensuring a smooth transition to operational status for fledgling graduates from the IAF’s flying academies. The OTU helped reduce an operational squadron’s workload in training younger pilots and enabled greater focus on its primary tasks. The enhancements in the new Hunter 56A necessitated new trials, primarily to test the aircraft’s range. On one occasion, two Hunters were flown lo-hi-lo from Pathankot, via Agra and Ahmedabad, to use the Jamnagar weapons range and land at Jamnagar. Other trials were made to test napalm attacks, previously never undertaken by the IAF, even during the 1965 war. The IAF had much reason to be happy with the 56A, but one glaring weakness remained the lack of provision for an air-toair missile. Though Switzerland and Finland had modified their Hunters to carry the AIM9 Sidewinder, the IAF did not. Without a suitable missile, the Hunter was poorly matched against the Mirage III, F-104 Starfighter, or the MiG-19s (Shenyang F-6)— all in use by the PAF.
THE BIG METAL BIRD: THE SUKHOI-7 The second aircraft the IAF inducted to extend its attack capabilities was the Russian Sukhoi-7 (Type S-22). The acquisition of the Sukhoi was a speedy affair compared to that of other aircraft in the IAF’s fleet. The story of its procurement, a closely guarded secret, like many other details pertaining to Indian military history, remains hidden in the corridors of the Ministry of Defence. Indeed, few in the IAF knew that its purchase was under way; thus, for some, their first contact with the Sukhoi was a revelatory surprise:
The first time I saw a Su-7 was in mid-67 one afternoon when I was on ORP along with Flying Officer Ramesh Kadam at Halwara. It was a warm and quiet afternoon, with no local flying planned by either 27 Squadron Hunters or 9 Squadron Gnats. We were therefore somewhat surprised when we heard a fighter aircraft come overhead. We both moved out of the ORP to see who was flying. The aircraft on finals, at first sight, appeared to be a MiG-21. It must be a practice diversion, we thought to ourselves. However when the silver machine crossed in front of us we realized this wasn’t a MiG-21, it was somewhat different’. Neither of us knew that the IAF had gone in for the Su-7; in fact it transpired later that no one in Halwara seemed to have heard of it till then. And we were wrong, it was no practice diversion. Soon after touchdown, we saw the double tail parachute deploy, with its characteristic ‘WHUMP’ sound following a fraction of a second later.
The aircraft soon backtracked and parked next to our Hunters, which in those days were protected by only a pair of sandbag walls on either side on the dumbbello of runway 31. The size of the aircraft was its most striking feature as it towered above the Hunters. We noticed that the airframe had none of the usual IAF markings: no roundels or tail number, and it shone like a freshly minted coin. We were most intrigued.
Soon the ATC vehicle came alongside with a puny ladder and it was with some difficulty that the pilot came down from the cockpit. The pilot turned out to be Wing Commander Prithi Singh. After a glass of water and a lot of pleas from our side, he told us that this was the latest fighter, called S-22, and that this was the first aircraft he was ferrying, from Bombay to Adampur, but had run short of fuel and elected to divert to Halwara. We asked all sorts of questions, about max speed, altitude, armament and so on, but he would not tell us much. He also swore us to secrecy on what little he had divulged!
Soon the station commander Group Captain Dilbagh Singh and the chief engineering officer arrived and organized the pushing of the S-22 into the R&SS hangar. It remained there, under covers and heavy guard, for the next week or two, while the remaining aircraft were ferried to Adampur. In fact a few young officers tried to take a closer look one day and the guard was most threatening; after that we kept a safe distance from the ‘secret’ weapon. Finally, Wing Commander Prithi Singh returned to take the aircraft to its original intended destination. The aircraft was towed with great ceremony to the dumbbell and started up. It appeared as if the whole station was there to witness the monster machine taking off. By then we had learned that this was the Su-7 and that its thrust was about 22,000 lbs, more than double of the Hunter’s Rolls Royce Avon, in fact even more than the kick produced by the MiG-21’s R-11 acroengine. We wanted to experience the roar as it engaged reheat for take-off. We weren’t disappointed; although it must be said that the afterburner had a deep-throated sound, not the carpiercing and deafening resonant roar of the MiG engine?
The Sukhoi-7’s first type, the S-1, flew on 7 September 1955 and entered service with the Soviet Union three years later. Though designated a fighter in the same class as the MiG-21, the Soviet Union inducted later variations in the ground attack role as the Sukhoi-7B. Other types followed: the BM, and then the BMK, known as the Type S-22.8
The Sukhoi was a huge aircraft-it stood high off the ground with swept wings at an angle in excess of sixty degrees. Its long area-ruled tubular fuselage featured a huge tail unit swept on all surfaces. It sported a nose-mounted air intake similar to the MiG-21 but with a much smaller shock wave cone. The pilot sat under a bubble canopy with good visibility everywhere but the rear. The Sukhoi was powered by a Lyulka AL-7 afterburning turbojet with 19,800 lb of thrust on reheat. What differentiated the Sukhoi from the MiG was its armament: two NR30 cannons with seventy rounds per gun. Both were installed in the wingroots and packed a punch: its heavy slug carried four times the weight and power of those fired by the Hunter’s 30 mm Aden cannon and was effective against semi-armoured targets. The muzzles of the cannon protruding out of the fuselage necessitated two large protective steel oval blast panels.
The early BMKs featured four hard points: two on the fuselage underbelly for drop tanks, two under the wings for rocket pods or iron bombs. Later, the BMKs were retrofitted with two more hard points under the wings. The inner hard points were stressed
to carry 250-kg bombs, UB16 57 mm rocket pods or the newly acquired, but yet to be delivered, S-24 rockets. The fuselage hard points could carry 500-kg bombs if needed.
The Sukhoi was the first IAF aircraft to feature an autopilot and a zero-altitude ejection seat (the Type KS-4 seat required a forward speed of 87 mph). A Sirena tail radar-warning detector provided an audio warning coupled with a panel blinker. The single-shaft, axial-flow, nine-stage compressor Lyulka AL-7F-1 turbojet generated 15,134 lb of thrust on dry power and 21,627 lb on reheating. Sukhoi pilots were quick to note this brute power overcame many of the aircraft’s design disadvantages, including the drag generated by its aerodynamics.
Like the MiG-21, the Sukhoi suffered from short legs-its internal fuel capacity was a mere 2,940 litres. This could, however, be increased by two 600-litre drop tanks underneath the fuselage,

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permitting a combat range of about 200 miles. The Sukhoi’s limited fuel capacity meant its afterburner could only be used for brief durations. Part of the operational familiarization with the Sukhoi-7 required its pilots to digest this fact, as Squadron Leader Mike McMahon found out during a pre-war training sortie with his mentor Squadron Leader P.C. Chopra: Sometime in October November ’69 Chopi (Squadron Leader P.C. Chopra) and I, in two ‘clean’ (as opposed to carrying additional fuel in under-wing tanks) Sukhoi-7s were to engage two MiG-21s in a two versus two combat. The combat went off very well and after the combat we were down to 1300kgs of fuel. Well, Chopi decided we would carry out a second combat. That made me raise my eyebrows under my helmet but I thought to myself that if both parties used only ‘dry’ (as opposed to reheat which guzzles fuel) power, we would still have enough fuel to recover safely at Adampur. I had to raise my eyebrows even higher when Chopi announced we would use reheat. Well, the combat went even better the second time around and I focused on closing in behind the MiG-21 that I had got behind. Distracted by this seeming success, suddenly, through peripheral vision I noticed the master emergency blinker flashing and when I checked to see what the matter was, I discovered the 550-kg fuel remaining light had illuminated. I immediately disengaged the reheat and turned towards base. Since we were somewhere in the vicinity of Ropar, I thought to myself ‘This is curtains, Buster. You are going to run out of fuel and have to eject!’
Fortunately, the combat had spiralled upwards so I was at a height of some seven km; I immediately brought the throttle to idle and started a slow descent. I changed to the VHF Recovery channel but with every formation of the three squadrons returning more or less simultaneously to base, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I changed channels once again to the Precision Approach Radar channel and announced my problem. The controller that morning was Flight Lieutenant Kailasam-the soundest and most professional of them all. He brought me down smoothly without any dramatic changes of heading or unnecessary use of throttle. I soon touched down safely off a straight approach and because I had virtually come in using ‘idle’ power-except at the end of the approach, I switched off in the dispersal with 220-kg of fuel. Never in my life since have I ever had so little fuel in my tanks! Well, Chopi was waiting for me on the tarmac and when I announced we should never have done the second combat either dry or with reheat, he only guftawed. Then he said, he had kept an eye on his fuel and had disengaged reheat at the appropriate moment and if I had not been so keen on closing in on the MiG-21 disregarding my own fuel state, I had no one else to blame but myself. He was right of course, and on two subsequent tours as an instructor at TACDE, I never forgot the lesson I learned that day from Chopi.to The Sukhoi was inducted in large numbers and equipped as many as six squadrons. On 1 January 1968 at Adampur, the first Sukhoi unit, 26 Squadron, commanded by Wing Commander M.S. Bawa, was formed; its nucleus of four officers and thirtyfive airmen has been trained at Lugovaya, Frunze, Alma Ata and Krasnodar in the Soviet Union. 101 Squadron followed; it was raised in June 1968 and commanded by Wing Commander Prithi Singh. 221 Squadron was raised at Ambala on 15 September 1969 and moved to Halwara in July 1971. Later, 32 Squadron converted to the Sukhoi and was based at Ambala. Another two Sukhoi squadrons, 108 and 221, were stationed at Bareilly. The IAF also acquired half a dozen two-seater trainer variants, the Sukhoi-7UM (NATO code name Moujik), which sported a second seat and a lengthened forward fuselage. Each Sukhoi squadron received a trainer or two for type-training of pilots. THE MIG SAGA CONTINUES While the Sukhoi-7 would become the mainstay of the ground attack force, the Mikoyan Gurevich MiG-21FL (Forzakh Locator) would become a similar staple of the fighter force. The MiG-21 had begun to show a potential not visible in its singularly unimpressive debut in the 1965 war, where a force of nine MiG in daytime but the pilot had to hunch down to get a better view of the display. The radar’s CRT display was almost useless at low altitude or in the presence of ground clutter; target acquisitions were typically made through the reflector sight.” The IAF’s 1965 war experience with MiG-21s led to the procurement of the GP-9 dorsal gun pack, which, fitted externally to the centreline hard point, reduced the aircraft’s range-as it could not carry the centreline drop-tank.
The FL variant was equipped with a Tumansky R-11-F2S-300 two-spool turbojet which provided 13,670 lb thrust with reheat. Its internal fuel capacity was 2,850 litres, which increased to 3,340 litres with an under-fuselage drop tank. With this configuration, the typical combat radius of the FL was approximately 140-180 miles. Its maximum speed was Mach 2.05 with a low-altitude limit of 1,100 kmph. If the drop tank was replaced with the gun pack, its effective radius of action was barely over 100 miles.12 MiG production commenced in stages, from ‘Completely Knocked Down’ (CKD) kits to final manufacture from raw materials. The airframes were produced at Ozar, a suburb of Nasik; the Tumansky R11 at Koraput, Orissa; ancillary avionics including the radar and K-13 AAMs at Hyderabad; assembled aircraft were rolled out and flight-tested at Ozar. Assembly manufacture commenced in late 1966 and the first deliveries made in early 1967. It was not until 19 October 1970 that the first MiG-21 (C1100) manufactured from raw materials was rolled out by HAL; the production contract was for 195 aircraft and manufacturing continued till 1973. By the time of the 1971 war, 150 FLs may have been produced. Not all of these served with frontline squadrons; some were still undergoing flight-testing at HAL.
A number of two-seater variants—including the MiG-21U (Type 66; NATO Codename ‘Mongold)—were procured for ‘type-training’ in IAF squadrons. In 1967, 28 Squadron was co-located with 1 Squadron in Adampur to help them in the conversion process. Some friendly rivalry ensued; 28 Squadron was a ‘by the book’ unit that often cast quizzical glances at the unorthodox management of the carefree 1 Squadron led by Wing
Commander ‘Omi’ Taneja.” 45 Squadron disposed of its Vampires in late 1966 and became the second squadron to re-equip with MiG-21s. Contemporaneously, the first type trainers, the MiG21Us, arrived and were used by 28 Squadron and 45 Squadron for training. Though IAF squadrons had initially equipped with Type 76 (MiG-21PF), subsequent squadrons received Type 77 (MiG-21FL), which retained the same weaponry as Type 76 but featured a more powerful engine and a larger chord fin.
The MiG pilots trained vigorously for dissimilar air combat, often tangling with Hunters, Gnats, and Sukhoi-7s. The MiGs worked too, with ground radar units in ground controlled interception (GCI) mode, where ground controllers would position the MiG-21 behind the target at which point the MiG would acquire the target on its radar and complete the interception. The MiG-GCI combination was the only way of engaging incoming bombers at night. The only other aircraft in the IAF’s inventory with airborne tracking radar, the Vampire NF54, had long since been retired.
Pilots on active squadrons also practised missile launches. In 1970-71, the IAF’s first batch of AAMs was nearing its shelf life and most pilots were able to fire live K-13s at airborne flares during exercises at Jamnagar.14 This luxury was not available to pilots seconded from training establishments to regular squadrons. Many pilots later found themselves flying combat air patrols with missiles they had never fired live on a range.15
The MiG-21 was the only aircraft in the IAF to be equipped with AAMs. Innovative efforts made by engineering officers at HAL to fit a K-13 missile to a Gnat did not go beyond a few preliminary steps as concerns over licence agreements with the Soviets played a part in shelving this project.”
THE MIDGET FIGHTER The IAF fighter fleet was bolstered by the induction of three squadrons operating the Folland (now HAL-built) Gnat. The successful use of the Gnat in the 1965 operations and the increasing domestic production of the aircraft made it an integral

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component of the IAF’s fleet. The Gnat had had its share of accidents and operational glitches but it was an extremely popular aircraft and its larger than life reputation from the 1965 war as the “Sabre Slayer’ lent it an aura of invincibility. During the 1965 war, the IAF had pressed five Gnat squadrons-Nos. 23, 2, 9, 15 and 18-into service. The latter two were newly raised and their contribution was limited. Two new Gnat squadrons-Nos. 21 and 22-were raised immediately after the 1965 war; 24 Squadron, then flying Vampires in the east, converted to the Gnat.
THE SUPPORTING ARMS-TRANSPORTS AND HELICOPTERS The IAF’s helicopter fleet was born in 1954, when No. 104 Helicopter Unit, equipped with the Sikorsky S-55, was raised at Palam; it grew with the induction of the Bell 47G and the medium-lift Russian Mil Mi-4 ‘Hip’. Only four helicopter units were available for the 1962 Sino-India war; the operations revealed severe shortages in the IAF’s heli-lift capabilities. Subsequently
another four units were raised: two with Mil-Mi-4s and one each with the newly acquired Alouette IIIs (IAF name: Chetak) and Bell 47s. Other than the lone Sikorsky S-62 used in the early 1960s by No. 104 HU, the Chetak was the first IAF helicopter to be powered by a jet turbine engine; previous types were powered by maintenance-intensive piston-driven radial engines.
The IAF’s helicopter fleet was used extensively in the insurgency phase of the 1965 war; their work included rocket and machine gun attacks in the Kashmir Valley. The post-war addition of an Alouette III unit took the IAF’s fleet strength to nine HUS. Five of these were placed with Eastern Air Command where they would be most useful in its largely road-deprived operational sector.
To augment its lift capabilities, the IAF ordered the Mil-8 helicopter. Though No. 118 HU was raised before the war broke out, its fleet arrived only towards the end of December 1971.
The IAF’s fixed wing transport component consisted of three Douglas C-47 Dakota squadrons (11, 43, and 49), three Fairchild C-119 Packet squadrons (12, 19, and 48), two Antonov An-12 squadrons (25, 44), one Illyushin-14 squadron (42) and one De Havilland Canada DHC-4 Caribou squadron (33). These were supported by two light transport squadrons flying the single engine De Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter and other units like the Air HQ squadron (C-47s, HS-748s), Paratrooper Training School (C-1195), No. 6 Squadron (Lockheed Constellations) and the Transport Training Wing at Bangalore (Dakotas).
The IAF’s Dakota squadrons were based in the east, while its Packet squadrons, with the exception of No. 48, were assigned to Western Air Command (WAC). The An-12s were distributed between Western and Central Air Commands. WAC retained the Illyushin-14 and one of the Otter squadrons, while Eastern Air Command (EAC) kept the other Otter squadron and the Caribou unit.
Additional transport holdings like the Constellations of No. 6 Squadron, the HS748 Avros of Transport Training Wing (TTW) and the Navigation and Signal School were designated maritime reconnaissance assets and played little part in airlift and supply work.
THE NEW CHIEF Arjan Singh had handed over the reins of the IAF to an officer three years his senior: Pratap Chandra Lal, born on 6 December 1916, into a family of lawyers and civil servants in Ludhiana (Punjab). Childhood visits in the winter of 1926 to an RAF flying display and Captain Barnard’s Flying Circus in Delhi soon converted him to the religion of flying. Lal started flying lessons after turning seventeen, earning his licence by June 1934. Having qualified for a diploma in journalism at King’s College, London, in 1938, Lal expected to return to fulltime study of law at the Inns of Court in the fall of 1939. In 1939, Lal travelled to India to visit his parents; while he was in India, World War II broke out. With all sailings between India and England put on hold, Lal was stranded.
Roughly contemporaneously, the IAF expanded by establishing IAF Volunteer Reserve flights; it invited all Indians with current pilot licences to apply. In November 1939, Lal was one of the first to join.” As the IAFVR critically required observers, Lal was accepted and trained as one. Lal served a short stint as a navigation instructor with the Flying Training School at Risalpur. He earned his pilot wings in January 1941 and was posted to a coast defence flight. Two months later he was recalled as navigation instructor to No. 1 Flying Training School at Ambala. When the coastal defence flights were disbanded towards the end of 1942, its personnel were absorbed into three new squadrons. Lal, now with four years of service, was posted to No. 7 Squadron, then flying the Vultee Vengeance dive-bomber, as a flight commander.
When No. 7 Squadron moved to the Burma front in February 1944, Lal flew several missions during his tour of duty. After the squadron withdrew from operations and re-equipped with the Hawker Hurricane II fighter-bomber, Lal took over as the commanding officer and led it from January 1945 till the end of the war in August. During this second tour of operations 7 Squadron outdid itself, often achieving a 99 per cent serviceability
rate. Lal was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) in October 1945, the last such award of the war.
After the war, Lal received a permanent commission and served in several staff positions. In November 1951, he led the IAF team that brought King Tribhuvan of Nepal to safety after an abortive palace coup. From 1953 to 1955 Lal worked as the military secretary to the Cabinet. In October 1954, Lal led an IAF aircraft evaluation team to Europe and became one of the three Indians to fly supersonic—a feat achieved in a Mystere IVA-and to fly the Folland Midge. His team ensured the IAF did not buy the unsuitable Supermarine Swift. In 1957 Lal was deputed to the Ministry of Civil Aviation as general manager of the Indian Airlines Corporation (IAC).
During this period Lal fell out of grace with the irascible defence minister V.K. Krishna Menon as the two clashed over the purchase of the HS-748 Avro. Lal had bluntly expressed his low opinion of the aircraft to Menon, who ignored Lal’s advice and went ahead with its procurement. Menon continued to bear a grudge, and at the end of Lal’s tenure with IAC on 30 September 1962, ensured his services with the IAF came to an end. Lal seemed set for civilian life.
However, fate decreed otherwise. Menon’s inept handling of the China crisis in October 1962 resulted in his resignation and in December 1962, Lal received a reprieve. Air HQ reinstated Lal as air officer maintenance at the rank of Air Vice-Marshal (AVM). Lal served briefly as the AOC-in-C Western Air Command before taking up the post of Vice-Chief of Air Staff in October 1964, in which capacity he served during the 1965 war. Amongst other things, Lal inducted surface-to-air guided missile systems into the IAFI For his wartime service, the Indian government awarded Lal the Padma Bhushan; other than the then C-in-C of WAC, AVM Ramaswami Rajaram, he was the only senior air officer at Air HQ to be so honoured.
After the 1965 war Lal was appointed to head the training command at the rank of Air Marshal. This was to be a short stint. In late 1966 he was deputed to Hindustan Aeronauticals Ltd as managing director, where he oversaw the establishment of production lines for MiG-21s, Gnats and the HS748 Avro–the aircraft he had crossed swords with Krishna Menon over. In a final, ironic twist, on 16 July 1969, P.C. Lal, ejected from and then reinstated into the IAF, took over as Chief of Air Staff Lal had prepared well for his new role, visiting many TAF units–and army formations to understand their air support needs-as the CAS-designate. Lal’s IAF possessed three operational commands: Western Air Command (
WAC), Central Air Command (CAC) and Eastern Air Command (EAC) which oversaw operations along the western border, central and south India, and the region east of Bihar respectively. Early in 1969, the IAF commanders’ conference had issued a reworked set of priorities, which were, in order of importance-air defence of the ‘homeland’ and airfields; support of army and naval operations

19
(in that order); bombing and counter air sorties; and transport, supply and paradropping missions.
One of Lal’s most important accomplishments in the lead up to the 1971 operations was a revamping of the Army-Air Force liaison infrastructure. The IAF already had Advance HQs operating alongside the HQs of Western and Eastern Commands of the Army, which would liaise with the respective Air Commands. Corps HQs that operated with the Army Commands had a tactical air centre (TAC) allocated to them (commanded by a group captain), which reported directly to the Advance HQs. Each TAC had several forward air controllers (FACs), who’would operate with the forward troops, and communicate via radio with their designated aircraft. The TAC centres would prioritize demands for close air support, coordinate with squadrons, and call in air strikes.
Unlike the 1965 operations, where a particular squadron was responsible for close air support along the entire border, squadrons would operate in designated areas. Not only did this enable greater familiarity with the terrain and operating conditions for the pilots, it also helped an on-going and increasing rapport with FACs on the ground.
PREPARING FOR THE WAR Shortly after the West Pakistani crackdown on the Bengali independence movement in East Pakistan began, an IAF delegation led by the Vice-Chief of Air Staff, Air Marshal Shivdev Singh, travelled overseas to shop for air defence missiles and a deep penetration strike aircraft. The delegation was unsuccessful in its hunt: the French offered the Mirage III at an exorbitant price while the Soviets tried their best to browbeat the delegation into accepting the Tupolev-22.22 To the credit of the VCAS and the CAS, they stayed faithful to familiar aircraft types. With insufficient time for IAF pilots’ training, inducting new types would have been an operational disaster.
The Soviets would try similar heavy-handed tactics in insisting MiG-21FLs be sent to Russia for fitting the GP-9 gunpod, an
inflexible and unfeasible arrangement for an air force about to go to war. Lal’s appointee as air officer maintenance, Air ViceMarshal Y.V. Malse insisted the work be done by HAL; MiGs were fitted with the gunpods and the IAF was able to gain expertise on the installation and utilization of gunpods at the squadron level. Malse also pursued the development of camera pods to be fitted to Sukhoi-7s, which were to prove valuable in the 1971 war.24
Across the border, the IAF’s counterpart, the Pakistan Air Force (PAF), had been engaged in a rebuilding and consolidation exercise of its own.
———-
NOTES 1. Singh, Roopinder, Arjan Singh, DFC: Marshal of the Indian Air
Force, New Delhi: Rupa & Co., 2002. 2. Rafi, Air Commodore Rais A., PAF Bomber Operations 1965 1971
Wars, Karachi: PAF Book Club, 2001, pp. 46-48. 3. A more detailed account of their meeting may be found in: Singh,
Jasjit, The Icon: Marsbal of the Indian Air Force Arjan Singh, DFC: An Authorised Biograpby, New Delhi: K.W. Publishers in association with Centre for Air Power Studies, 2009. Arjan Singh recollects in the book that Nur Khan insisted on steering the discussion towards
Kashmir at every opportunity he got. 4. Ashley, Genn, Joe Sewell and Don Greer, Aircraft No. 121: Hawker
Hunter in Action, Carlton, TX: Squadron Signal Publications,
1992 5. Ibid.
The ‘dumbbell’ was the end area of a runway where the tarmac jutted out in a circular shape, allowing large aircraft to make a
“U-turn’ within the width of the runway. 7. Correspondence with Air Marshal S. Bhojwani. 8. Stapfer, Hans-Heiri, Aircraft Number 90: Sukhoi Fitters in Action,
Carlton, TX: Squadron Signal Publications, 1989. 9. Ibid. 10. Correspondence with Air Marshal Michael McMahon (Retd). 11. Don Linn and Don Spering, Aircraft Number 131: MiG-21 Fishbed
in Action, Carlton, TX: Squadron Signal Publications, 1993; Singh, Pushpindar, ‘India and the MiG-21’, Air Entbusiast, Volume 4, No. 7, July 1973.
12. Ibid. 13. Interview with Air Vice-Marshal S.A.B. Naidu. 14. Interview with Group Captain A.K. Datta. 15. Interview with Squadron Leader D.M. Subaiya. 16. Chacko, Group Captain Jacob, Memoirs, Self Published;
Correspondence with Group Captain Chacko. 17. A second attempt to equip the Gnat with the K-13 after the 1971
war was dropped when it turned out that the onboard generator could not generate sufficient power for its needs. Correspondence
with Wing Commander Joseph Thomas VM. 18. For a detailed account of the life of Air Chief Marshal P.C. Lal, see:
Lal, P.C., My Years with the IAF, Delhi: Lancer, 1985. ” 19. The Royal Air Force List—1940, published by HMSO UK. 20. The distinction of the first Indian to fly supersonic almost certainly
belongs to Air Chief Marshal H.S. Moolgavkar, who was also part of the evaluation team. Moolgavkar had the opportunity to fly a Mystere Il prototype aircraft a year earlier; he broke the sound
barrier in a dive during that flight. 21. Kumar, Bharat, Air Marshal, Courage y Devotion to Duty, Delhi:
Pahujas, 2009. 22. Lal, P.C., My Years with the IAF, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers,
1985. 23. Author’s interview with Air Marshal Y.V. Malse. 24. Ibid.
22

TWO
Across the Border

AFTER THE 1965 WAR On 31 August 1969, a mere six weeks after Air Marshal Arjan Singh’s retirement from the IAF, Air Marshal Mohammad Nur Khan, the PAF’s commander in the 1965 air war, relinquished his command to his successor Air Marshal Abdur Rahim Khan. Like Arjan Singh, Nur Khan emerged from the 1965 war with a reputation as an effective leader, one responsible for the PAF’ successful role in that conflict. Unlike Arjan Singh, Nur Khan had operated without restrictions in the employment of airpower and, to his credit, made the most of it. For his wartime leadership, Nur Khan’s rank was upgraded from Air Vice-Marshal to Air Marshal and he was awarded the Hilal-e-Jur’at, Pakistan’s highest award for leadership in war. Nur Khan’s immediate task after the war had been to mitigate the devastating effect of the post-war US arms embargo on the PAF, whose front-line aircraft–the F-104, the F-86F and the B-57-were heavily dependent on American supplies: ‘We lost our only source of arms supplies, and our entire system of training and procurement was disrupted.” Nur Khan’s concerns included replacement of attrition losses by finding alternative sources of combat equipment, plugging gaps in radar coverage, and repairing the damaged radar at Badin.
After the 1965 war, thanks to the camaraderie engendered by the Tashkent Conference, Pakistan formed an unlikely and short-lived alliance with the Soviet Union. The Soviets sold Pakistan two P-35 mobile radars (the same type operated by the IAF at Amritsar during the 1965 operations; the PAF had mounted several raids in an attempt to destroy these). One P-35 was deployed in the east, the other in the west. A squadron of Mi-8 medium-lift helicopters was supplied to the army aviation wing. An attempt to sell the heavy-lift Mi-6 helicopter ended in disaster when the lone unit supplied crashed in the Karakoram Mountains. Finally, an offer to supply MiG-21s and Sukhois was not taken up by the PAF. New CHINESE FRIENDS The PAF could afford to decline the MiG-21 offer because it had inducted a cheaper and equally effective alternative: the Chinese Shenyang F-6, a copy of the Soviet MiG-19. The People’s Republic of China (PRC) supplied sixty of these virtually free of cost immediately after the 1965 war. The first F-os arrived in December 1965 to reequip 23 Squadron at Sargodha. 25 Squadron, newly formed at Sargodha, and 11 Squadron, which discarded its Sabres, followed.* In addition to the F-6s, the PRC supplied two dozen Harbin H-5 bombers, copies of the Soviet II-28 Beagle, and rough equivalents of the Canberra. Its tenure was one of the shortest in the PAF as it was withdrawn two years later. The PRC provided two new anti-aircraft gun types to raise new PAF air defence units. The first was a copy of the towed Soviet ZPU-4, consisting of four 14.5 mm machine guns firing from an ammunition drum of 4,800 rounds, with an effective range of 4,500 feet. The second, a more conventional AA gun, was a copy of the Soviet 37 mm 61-K M1939, based on the design of a 1930s’ Bofors, which used five-round clips fed by the gun crew. Each gun carried 200 rounds. By 1971, the active strength of the PAF’s F-104 fleet was down to eight serviceable aircraft flying with 9 Squadron at Sargodha. The Martin B-57 Canberra force was also considerably diminished: of the original twenty-nine B-57Bs and Cs, four had been lost in the 1965 operations and a fifth, badly damaged in a post-war SAM interception, had been returned to the United States. These losses, coupled with peacetime attrition meant nineteen aircraft survived by 1971; one of the two squadrons operating the B-57s was wound up and the remaining aircraft were operated by 7 Squadron. This over-strong squadron was split into two detachments; one operating out of Mauripur, the other out of Peshawar.
ACQUISITION OF THE CANADAIR SABRES The PAF’s experience with the North American F-86F Sabres had been, to put it mildly, positive in the 1965 war. Its losses in that conflict necessitated replacement, but the US embargo blocked any such move. A resupply opportunity arose when the West German Luftwaffe decided to dispose of its surplus Canadair CL13 Sabre Mk.6s, the Canadian version of the North American F-86F; Canada had supplied 225 of these to the Federal Republic of Germany during the 1950s.
The Canadian Sabre differed primarily in being re-engined with the Avro Orenda turbojet, which dramatically increased the performance of the aircraft. With an additional 20 per cent thrust (7,275 lb compared to 6,090 lb), the CL-13 was faster, had a higher rate of climb, and a higher ceilings
While these Sabres were the ideal replacements for the PAF’s shortfall, West Germany could not resell them without clearance from the United States, which was not officially forthcoming. To circumvent this problem, Pakistan made arrangements with Iran whereby Iran purchased the Sabres from West Germany and sent them for ‘overhauling’ and subsequent absorption into the PAF. This novel procurement method would not have been possible without the covert approval of the USA.
The first Canadair Sabres arrived in April 1966 and deliveries were completed by December. The additional ninety Sabre Mkos helped the PAF re-equip four of its cight Sabre squadrons, one of which was 14 Squadron based at Dacca in East Pakistan.”
25

THE FRENCH DELTAS
In 1967, Pakistan successfully negotiated a contract with Dassault Aviation for the supply of several variants of the delta-winged Mirage III supersonic interceptor, then one of the world’s most modern combat aircraft. It was also one of the most expensive: the deal’s value of $100 million was paid in full by the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, in gratitude for the secondment of PAF pilots to its air force in the years immediately preceding the deal.” Saudi monies helped the PAF place a second order for thirty aircraft in 1970. The Mirage III was the first European-designed bi-sonic aircraft, achieving speeds up to Mach 2.1, a considerable advantage over the MiG-21. It was powered by an Atar 09 turbojet engine, and like the Mystere IVA and Super Mystere, armed with twin 30 mm DEFA cannons.
The PAF ordered twenty-four Mirages in 1967: eighteen single-seater IIIEPs and three each of the RP reconnaissance and DP trainer versions. Two trainers and twenty-eight Mirage Vs-paid for by the Saudis—were ordered in 1970, but these were not delivered in time for the 1971 war. The PAF insisted it
received only twenty-four Mirage Ills–one of which was lost in an accident-before the 1971 war broke out.
NUR KHAN’S RETIREMENT AND THE NEW PAF CHIEF Air Marshal Mohammad Nur Khan was not content with running the PAF; he was also a consultant for the Army chief, General Yahya Khan, who had taken over as President in March 1969, when Ayub Khan ceded power to the Pakistan Army. Yahya Khan convinced Nur Khan of the inevitability of the imposition of martial law in Pakistan and recruited him as deputy martial law administrator. In August 1969, Yahya Khan requested Nur Khan to take over as the governor of West Pakistan. Nur Khan accepted on the condition he would not serve for more than six months. As the post of chief of air staff was incompatible with the office of the governor, Nur Khan resigned and was replaced by his deputy, Air Marshal Abdur Rahim Khan.
Rahim Khan was forty-six years old when he took over the PAE Originally commissioned in the pre-Independence IAF in 1944, he had served in Burma during World War II (WWII) and as the deputy chief of air staff during the 1965 war.” He had a well-earned reputation due to his operational record in WWII, and the PAF’s expectations were high.
The PAF’s light command hierarchy did not include any officers at the rank of Air Vice-Marshal (apart from a VCAS appointed as a CAS designate). Rahim Khan was assisted by half a dozen officers of Air Commodore rank. Of these, the most important were the assistant chief of air staff (operations) Air Commodore S.M.A. ‘Polly’ Shah and his senior air staff officer, Air Commodore Z. Butt.
THE RISE OF BENGALI NATIONALISM The roots of the 1971 India-Pakistan war lay in the rise of Bengali nationalism in East Pakistan, and in West Pakistani efforts to suppressit. Bengali nationalism, in turn, found its roots in the formation of the All Pakistan Awami Muslim League in 1949, which highlighted the discontent of the Bengali population

of East Pakistan. The development of Pakistan’s western wing had, since the creation of Pakistan in 1947, taken precedence in the priorities of the west-based administration, and there were frequent, sharp disagreements over the allocation of revenues from taxation. Bengalis were not well represented in the Pakistani government, civil services, police and military, leading to a gradual alienation and disenfranchisement of the East Pakistani polity.
The 1965 India-Pakistan war, while boosting the patriotic mood in East Pakistan, had revealed severe lacunae in the Pakistan Army’s aggressively promulgated doctrine of ‘The defence of the East lies in the West. Much to the dismay of East Pakistan’s Bengali population, it was obvious that East Pakistan was isolated and defenceless in the face of a possible invasion by the Indian Army. The single, grossly outnumbered, Pakistan Army Division in the East would have been incapable of more than token resistance. The decision by the Indian government to not provoke an outburst of patriotic sentiment in East Pakistan by not invading it in 1965 paid dividends six years later.’
The appointment of a popular Bengali politician, Hussein Suhrawardy, as the prime minister of Pakistan in 1956 had been negated by his resignation and subsequent banning, by Field Marshal Ayub Khan, from politics. Soon, a new political star rose in the east: Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
In February 1966, Mujibur Rahman began the dissolution of Mohammad Ali Jinnah’s Pakistan with his famous six-point agenda proclamation in Lahore, which specified a loosely structured federation of nations in which East Pakistan would control taxation and revenue expenditure and cede defence and foreign affairs to West Pakistan. In response, the East Pakistan administration arrested Mujib and several others for treason under the ‘Agartala Conspiracy case. The subsequent death in custody of one of the ‘co-conspirators’, Sergeant Zahar-ul-I laq, an NCO in the PAF, sparked off riots in Dacca.
Meanwhile, Ayub Khan stepped down from power and was succeeded by the Pakistan Army chief, General Yahya Khan, who promptly imposed martial law in March 1969, declared himself president in April, and abolished the restrictive constitution imposed by his predecessor.
THE 1970 ELECTIONS Yahya Khan promised to hold elections on 5 October 1970 and to install a new government by March 1971. In September 1970 devastation wrought by a coastal cyclone in East Pakistan prompted Yahya Khan to postpone the elections to December. Most East Pakistanis attributed the massive loss in life and property to the intentional negligence of the government. Riding on this dissatisfaction, the Awami League captured 160 of the 162 electoral seats in the east in the subsequent elections. In West Pakistan, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party could only win eighty-four of the 138 seats it contested. The Awami League had a numerical majority in the National Assembly and the nation-wide balance of power had shifted, unexpectedly, but decisively, to the east. Yahya Khan and the West Pakistani elite though, were loath to hand over the reins to the Bengali Awami League. Yahya Khan, supported by Bhutto, proposed the Awami League would form a coalition government with the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) but this proposal was rejected by Mujib.
THE GANGA HIJACKING On 30 January 1971, an Indian Airlines Fokker F-27, named Ganga, on a flight from Srinagar to Jammu was hijacked by two Kashmiri separatists: Hashim Qureshi and his cousin, Ashraf Qureshi. The aircraft was diverted to Lahore airport where it sat on the tarmac for two days.
There was enormous popular support for the Kashmiri hijackers in Pakistan and the hijacking did not suffer from lack of attention in the Pakistani media. Most notably, Bhutto, who had returned to West Pakistan from his visit to the east, was swept up in the hysteria: on arriving at Lahore airport, he walked over to the hijacked aircraft to meet the hijackers and express his support. On 2 February, despite the fact that the hijackers had only a toy gun, a dummy grenade and no means of
blowing up the aircraft, the Fokker was blown up in full view of television cameras.
The Indian government responded by forbidding all flights by Pakistani civil aircraft over Indian territory from 4 February; all flights between West and East Pakistan had to be routed via Colombo, Sri Lanka. This sanction undoubtedly affected Pakistani military preparedness in the east.”
DESCENT INTO ANARCHY Yahya Khan now had an excuse to postpone the meeting of the General Assembly and the formation of the new government. The Indian ban on flights was portrayed as the opening gambit of an aggressive Indian strategy to wage war on Pakistan. Additional troops were sent to Dacca to protect East Pakistan’ from nefarious Indian designs. Khan returned to East Pakistan in mid-February and announced the National Assembly would meet in Dacca on 3 March. However, Bhutto threatened an agitation if the National Assembly went ahead without the PPP’s participation and forced Yahya to call the meeting off.
The Awami League protested with strikes and public demonstrations. The East Pakistan government imposed a curfew on 3 March; as riots broke out, they were often quelled with deadly force. Yahya then declared the National Assembly would meet on 25 March while Lieutenant General Tikka Khan, GOC East Pakistan, was appointed the martial law administrator. Mujib responded with a mammoth, million-strong rally on 7 March featuring fiery denunciations of Yahya Khan. As civil disobedience increased, the most visible sign of Bengali defiance, the rebel flag of Bangladesh, rapidly became ubiquitous.
Yahya Khan arrived in Dacca on 15 March to hold talks with Mujib. They were joined by Bhutto on 21 March. On 23 March it was announced that an interim agreement was reached for immediate withdrawal of martial law and the formation of an Awami League government. Unbeknown to Mujib or Bhutto, Khan, not intending fidelity to the deal, left East Pakistan on 24 March at 7p.m.” Orders were sent to army formations to be ready
30
for action. On 25 March 1971, the bloody military crackdown in East Pakistan began.
OPERATION SEARCHLIGHT At 11 p.m. on 25 March 1971, West Pakistani troops spread out in Dacca, arrested the leadership of the Awami League and suppressed an unsupportive population. Mujib managed to send off a radio message calling for the people of Bangladesh to ‘oppose the occupation army’; it was essentially a call for resistance and a declaration of independence.
Meanwhile, the Pakistan Army entered the Dacca University campus and attacked the resident students and teachers as instigators of rebellion. A swift and deadly massacre of students, journalists, doctors and academicians ensued a sign of things to come.
The army also moved in on the East Pakistani police and their erstwhile colleagues, the East Pakistan Regiment, six battalions of which were disarmed with many Bengali officers and servicemen killed or taken into custody. Some Bengali soldiers and officers escaped and made their way to India.
The Pakistan Army then commenced a deliberate campaign to terrorize the Bengali populace of East Pakistan. Hundreds of thousands were massacred, raped and otherwise brutalized. Anthony Mascarenhas’ chilling recounting of the genocide that followed remains essential reading for anyone strong enough to stomach its gory details.
THE INDIAN DILEMMA The refugees who made it to the Indian border to escape the Pakistan Army’s carnage were received with sympathy by the Indian government. Later, the Indian government tacitly approved assistance to the rebels, including training by the Border Security Force (BSF). A couple of months after the Pakistan Army’s crackdown, the rebels were able to carry out raids and hit back at the Pakistan Army. The Bengali Liberation Army (Mukti Bahini) would go on to play a significant part in the subsequent war for independence.
The Indian government faced a dilemma at this stage about the extent of its intervention. As early as April 1971, as the extent of the human tragedy across the border became known, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, at a Cabinet meeting, consulted the Indian Army chief, General Manekshaw, about the possibility of an intervention. After clarifying that the prime minister had nothing but military action in mind, Manekshaw categorically stated Indian armed forces were not ready to go to war against Pakistan. The chief of army staff correctly pointed out the advent of the monsoon towards the end of April would turn East Pakistan into a giant swamp; its swollen major rivers would make any military movement impossible. Manekshaw further stated he was not sure the IAF could render support at such short notice and urged the Cabinet to consider a later date. Manekshaw refused to budge despite pressure from Cabinet members, and the prime minister relented. War would come to the subcontinent only at the time of the Indian Army’s choosing.
After the meeting Manekshaw shared his information with the chief of air staff and the chief of naval staff. The chiefs of staff of the army, navy and air force began regular meetings with the prime minister to discuss war plans and the role of the different branches of the armed forces in case of an Indian intervention at a later date.
THE PAKISTAN AIR FORCE AT DACCA There were numerous World War II-era abandoned airfields in East Pakistan, but the PAF maintained only two full-time stations: Tezgaon, near the capital Dacca, and Chittagong in the south. Dacca had been activated as an airfield in 1949. In 1965, the construction of Kurmitola as an alternative civilian airfield in Dacca commenced and was completed by 1971. Secondary airfields were also available at Jessore, Lal Munir Hat, Barisal, Ishurdi, and Feni.
The PAF had not based fighters at Dacca till 1956, at which point a squadron of Hawker Fury aircraft was moved there for operations. In 1963, an F-86 squadron moved to Dacca, later to
be replaced by another F-86 squadron, 14 Squadron, in 1965. In 1965, its commanders and pilots planned and successfully executed several strikes against Indian airfields destroying several IAF aircraft. The squadron did lose two Sabres in air combat against 14 Squadron IAF, then based at Kalaikunda (flying Hunters).
After the war, the shortage of spares and more attrition losses among the Sabres forced 14 Squadron PAF to shed its American F-86Es and take on the Canadair Sabre Mk.6s that had been newly acquired from Iran.
When the Pakistan Army’s crackdown in the East began, the PAF was concentrated solely at Tezgaon airfield at Dacca. Led by an Air Commodore, the PAF contingent numbered 1,222 personnel: officers, NCOs and other ranks. The lone squadron of Sabres was accompanied by a few C-130s of 6 Squadron. An army aviation squadron (No. 4) wholly manned and operated by Pakistan Army officers, consisting of five Mi-8 helicopters and four Alouette III helicopters also operated out of Dacca.20
Orders from West Pakistan to ground all Bengali pilots had been already implemented. Thus, 645 Bengali airmen were laid off duty in April 1971. The AOC, Air Commodore Zafar ‘Mitty’ Masud would become the first casualty of a different nature. Masud was a pre-1947 commissioned officer from the old RIAF, the last such officer to hold the office in Dacca as the AOC. He had been the station commander of Peshawar during the 1965 war and had distinguished himself in those operations. A highly respected military professional, his views were in stark contrast to those of the Pakistan Army generals who were planning and executing the military crackdown.
Well before the military action in East Pakistan, the PAF HQ in Dacca was asked to mount a mission-supposedly in support of a besieged army unit-against ‘armed’ civilians on the outskirts of Dacca. Masud was aghast at being asked to use the PAF against its own people; such compunctions had not bothered the Pakistan Army. Masud refused, correctly deducing the so-called ‘armed’ civilians had nothing more than spears and sticks.” This did not please the generals in Islamabad. Within days of the crackdown starting, moves were made to post Masud out of Dacca.
Masud was concerned about the large number of Bengali officers and airmen serving him, many of whom were understandably perturbed by political developinents. Masud convened a meeting to inform his subordinates that anyone not comfortable with supporting operations was free to go on leave. Masud also issued a clear warning of the penalties for treason. Giving the option to opt out of duty to his men was a remarkable decision for any military officer in the sub-continent.
On the morning of 31 March 1971, Masud was surprised to receive a visit from Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq. He handed over a letter from the PAF C-in-C, Air Marshal Rahim Khan, stating Masud was relieved of his duties and should hand over the twin responsibilities of AOC, East Pakistan and base commander, Dacca to Inam-ul-Haq. Masud was discharged from service shortly thereafter.
Masud’s stern warnings to the Bengali airmen of his contingent went unheeded as several Bengali officers and men decided to defect to India. One such officer was 14 Squadron’s Flight Lieutenant Sadruddin, an experienced F-86 pilot with nearly 2,400 hours of flying experience who was blocked from flying duties soon after he reported:
I was posted again to No. 14 Squadron (PAF) at Tezgaon and arrived Dacca on 19 March 1971, just a week before hell was let loose by the Pakistan Army on the population of East Pakistan. While I could fully understand and appreciate the feelings of the people of the then East Pakistan (1970-71 period), I was personally least interested in politics. I was more concerned with my career in the air force. Although my career got off to a very good start, I soon realized that being a Bengali was not very favourable for building a good career. I was particularly disappointed and dismayed at the treatment of Bengali fliers in the selection for gallantry awards for the 1965 war.
After 25 March the atmosphere in Dacca cantonment area was indeed very tense. Dacca was virtually deserted and the city wore a haunted look. The Bengali officers like me hardly spoke or exchanged views on the ongoing events with others. It was simply too risky. We were even careful talking amongst ourselves. You simply were not very sure who was who.
The decision to ground the Bengali fliers after 25 March 1971 was obviously a command decision from the Air HQ, which must have been based on their appreciation of the situation and their overall plan. Their decision to ground us only helped me in expediting my subsequent decision to join the freedom fight. Sometime in the middle of April 1971, I was told that I could not fly anymore and that I was being posted back to West Pakistan; I knew exactly what to do.
I am not sure when or what information those in West Pakistan were getting but the Pakistanis posted in Dacca and elsewhere in Bangladesh knew exactly what had happened as things were brewing up weeks before. The West Pakistanis were committing the worst genocide of recent times against the people of East Pakistan and I had witnessed it with my own eyes. While most of the serving officers of that time chose not to comment on the events, there were a few who expressed their support and justification of the military’s actions.
Soon after Air Commodore Masud left Dacca I decided to join the group that was then secretly engaged in a plan to join the liberation war.
[It was in] May that I came across Flight Lieutenant Matiur-Rahman in Dacca while Wing Commander Khandamul Bashar and I were looking for Bengali air force men and officers willing to join the war of liberation. He was on leave from his unit at PAF Mauripur, Karachi. Mati, without any hesitation whatsoever, instantly agreed to join us. That was 8 May 1971 and we asked him to be present at a secret meeting in my house in Monipuripara near Tezgaon airport the following morning at 9 a.m.
However, we were very surprised to see his father-in-law turn up in my house at the appointed time instead of him, only to inform us that Mati had taken an earlier flight back to Karachi and that he would not be able to attend the meeting.
Two days later on 11 May 1971, I left Dacca for Agartala,
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India, to join the Bangladesh liberation forces and the freedom fight. I was accompanied by Squadron Leader (then Flight Lieutenant) Nur-ul-Quader.”
Sadruddin had taken part in the 1965 operations with many sorties against Indian army positions in the Lahore sector and even ejected once after his aircraft had been hit by AA fire. But the genocide committed by the West Pakistan Army had now forced him to seek refuge with his former enemy, India. Irony was not in short supply in those days.
Sadruddin was just one of the many PAF Bengali officers who made the difficult choice to defect to India. The senior Bengali officer at PAF Dacca was Group Captain A.K. Khandoker, OC (Admin. Wing), supported by Wing Commander S.R. Mirza, Wing Commander M. Khandamul Bashar, Squadron Leader Manzur-ul-Haq and Wing Commander Aminul Islam. Like Sadruddin, they were undecided about whether to defect or not.
Khandoker, the seniormost among them, suffered no such dissonance; he had witnessed Yahya Khan leaving Dacca clandestinely on the night of 25 March and informed the Awami League Headquarters by phone. The eight Bengali PAF officers led by Khandoker and Bashar met regularly and planned to defect, but their resistance movement remained disorganized.
Soon, Flight Lieutenant Nur-ul-Qader volunteered to cross the border and establish contact with the rebel movement. He did so and met Major Khalid Musharraf, a rebel leader. After a meeting that considerably clarified their options, he returned to East Pakistan to carry the news to his compatriots. Though he was captured by the Pakistan Army Qader managed to bluff his way out and reached Dacca. Soon afterwards Qader and Sadruddin crossed over to India together.
Besides the eight PAF officers and the ex-PAF pilot who had conspired and defected en masse, four Bengali PAF officers found their way to Mujib Nagar. Being on leave at the time of the crackdown had enabled an easier escape for them.
Some PAF officers were unable to reconcile their dislike of their former foe, India, with their desire to defect: Squadron Leader Manzur-ul-Haq chose not to take part in the resistance operations.
THE PLIGHT OF BENGALI OFFICERS IN WEST PAKISTAN
While Bengali officers and airmen in the East had the option of escaping to India, assisted by a very sympathetic population, Bengali PAF officers in West Pakistan found themselves pariahs in the force that had provided them with a career. Distrusted and alienated, surrounded by hostile population, their options were limited:
It is important to appreciate the plight of the Bengali men and officers of the Pakistani armed forces, regardless of where they were stationed, when the 1971 genocide was unleashed. The Bengali men and officers were instantly put in an extreme state of uncertainty, shock and surprise. Those stranded in West Pakistan must have suddenly found themselves in a hopeless situation a million miles away from their home and their families.
A lot, however, depended on the individual, his rank and position, his place of posting and his overall assessment of the situation and to some extent his relationship with his Pakistani superiors. There were individuals who managed to escape from Pakistani confinements and join the freedom fight in Bangladesh. Then there were others who had the opportunity to join the freedom fight being stationed in Bangladesh, but chose to stay the middle course. Some among those stranded in Pakistan, by virtue of their ‘good relations’ with their higher authorities, enjoyed normal service life and even got promoted (H.M. Ershad later Lieutenant General) and AVM A.G. Mahmud). Yet there were others (Air Commodore Humayun Kabir, for instance) who were taken into custody and brutally tortured by the Pakistani intelligence.
One of the Bengali officers, Flight Lieutenant Rahmat Ali, was posted as an instructor to the Flight Instructors School in Risalpur. A prolific flier with more than 3,000 hours under his belt including 1,000 hours on F-86 Sabres, Ali had eight years of service in the PAF; he had been commissioned in 1963 and had flown in the 1965 war, flying twenty-one sorties. Like Sadruddin, Ali was a career officer; the disturbances and political machinations back in the east were of little interest. Ali was concerned to hear news of the military crackdown in East Pakistan on 26 March, but it remained a distant concern, not close to Ali’s heart. Career priorities remained paramount, as did professional aspirations. On 27 March, Ali prepared for a routine instructional sortie. When he went to collect his helmet and parachute from the crew room, a very apologetic corporal turned him down. ‘That’ as Ali remembers, ‘was the beginning of the end. After the crackdown, the PAF’s senior staff had decided to bar Bengali pilots from flying. Rather than issuing orders grounding Bengali aircrew, PAF Air HQ posted all Bengali officers to nonflying ground jobs. If there was ever an air force equivalent of a self-goal, this was it. Rahmat Ali found himself posted to a desk job, as assistant deputy director, operations at AHQ Peshawar. In spite of Air HQ’s attempt at political correctness, it was obvious all Bengali personnel in the PAF were under suspicion. Resentment grew among the Bengali aircrew. The news from the east about the military action and atrocities against the Bengali population did not help. But there was little they could do about it as the Bengali officers formed a very small minority in the PAF officer corps. Another Bengali pilot who was a senior instructor with the PAF’s Fighter Leader School was the top scoring Saif-ul-Azam, who on returning from his earlier postings to Jordan and Iraq had completed a pilot attack instructor course with the RAF on Hunters, and joined a newly raised MiG-19/F-6 squadron. After flying the F-os for a year and a half, as Squadron Leader, he was posted to the Fighter Leader School. As with Ali, Saif was taken off flying duties in March and posted to a desk job within the airbase. Bengali officers were now under suspicion and their normal activities curtailed, though pretence of normality was maintained by the PAF A few PAF officers discussed this distressing state of
affairs with their Bengali colleagues, but these were exceptions for Bengali officers were always under watch. Flight Lieutenant Mohammed Kamal-ud-din, a Bengali officer, noted: ‘The hawks in the air force…obtained…endorsement to launch an all-out witch-hunt of Bengalis. The doves, few in number, retreated into the background. A serious reaction followed in order to intensify the prosecution of the Bengali officers and men.’
The resentment created among the Bengali officers was bound to manifest itself in acts of defiance, for not all Bengali officers in the west had given up on their fate.
One such officer was Flight Lieutenant Shamsul Alam, then a pilot with No. 6 Squadron PAF flying C-130 Hercules at Chaklala near Islamabad. Shamsul was originally from the fighter stream, flying F-86 Sabres after commissioning in 1967. He had qualified for and completed his fighter leader course at Peshawar. On graduation, he was posted to a B-57 unit as part of the PAF’s policy of exposing fighter pilots to all operational aspects of flying. After a stint flying and training on the B-57, Shamsul was posted to the C-130 squadron, giving him the unique experience of flying fighters, bombers and transports in quick succession.
Shamsul first became aware of West Pakistani apathy towards the cast after the cyclone of 1970. He noted the first C-130 relief flight to Dacca arrived after twenty-two days, by which time other nations had already flown several supply missions to Dacca. Thereafter, once India had banned all over-flights to East Pakistan, Shamsul participated in the detoured flights to the east. As late as 18 March, he had flown a C-130 into Tezgaon, carrying a load of Pakistan Army troops. He was vaguely aware something was afoot, without being sure of what lay ahead.
A week later, on 25 March, Shamsul received orders that he was grounded. The disappointment of being grounded was aggravated by his knowledge of the orders preventing Bengali airmen from working on aircraft. Towards the end of June, during a conversation with a West Pakistani officer, he learned of Khandoker’s defection, along with other officers, to India. Soon after a Bengali diplomat in Islamabad surreptitiously passed on a
letter routed through the UK. In it Khandoker wrote that Bengali PAF officers in Dacca had defected to India to join the freedom struggle, and suggested Shamsul join them. Khandoker had been Shamsul’s instructor at Risalpur and thus his words carried considerable weight. Convinced about his course of action, Shamsul tried several times to escape to India via Afghanistan but the border was on high alert as other Bengali officers had been arrested while attempting the same move.
Finally after wangling some casual leave from his squadron, Shamsul arrived at PAF Mauripur, ostensibly to meet a relative. After withdrawing all his savings, nearly 50,000 rupees, he abandoned his brand new car at the airport and surreptitiously boarded a PIA flight to East Pakistan on 3 June.
The PIA Trident landed in Dacca in the evening. A PAF reception team of six officers was waiting; they politely but firmly informed Shamsul that all PAF officers were to go to the PAF Officers’ Mess for clearance. After he was escorted to the officers’ mess, a senior officer suggested his luggage be checked before any further processing. The search revealed his logbook, certificates and the 50,000 rupees in cash, enough to buy two bigbas of residential land in Dacca. Shamsul was arrested and moved to a detainee camp in Dacca Cantonment.?
A gruelling ordeal of physical and mental torture involving beatings and electrical shocks followed. After seven days of abuse, Shamsul Alam confessed he intended to defect to India. The torture stopped and he was charge-sheeted for a court martial. The threat of execution or life imprisonment hung over his head. In the solitary confines of his cell, Alam pondered his fate and his helplessness in not being able to join the Mukti Bahini. Little did he realize that in five months he would not only join the freedom movement but be part of the opening act in the air war over Bangladesh.
THE T-33 DEFECTION ATTEMPT Mauripur Air Force Station, west of Karachi, was a major airfield in the PAF order of battle. Besides serving as home station for
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a B-57 squadron, Mauripur was the hub of air operations for southern Pakistan and home to the PAF Academy. On 20 August, shortly before noon, a young Pilot Officer, Rashid Minhas, was taxiing his T-33 trainer towards take-off for his second solo. As he reached the take-off point, he was flagged down by a Flight Safety Officer (FSO), Flight Lieutenant Mati-ur-Rahman. Such safety checks on unsuspecting cadets were routine and Minhas assumed one was imminent.
However the FSO’s intentions were different. Mati-urRahman was the Bengali officer who-revolted by the actions of the Pakistan Army in Dacca-had discussed his plans with Sadruddin about defecting to India and had since regretted his decision to not attend the defectors’ meeting. Then, he had been stopped from attending the meeting by his father-in-law. Now, in the west, it was more difficult to defect or cross over to the Indian border. On several occasions he discussed the possibility of defecting to India with his fellow Bengali officer at the station, Saif-ul-Azam, who neither encouraged nor dissuaded him. Like other Bengali officers, Rahman was assigned ground duties as the deputy flight safety officer at Mauripur.
After flagging down Minhas, Rahman climbed into the aircraft’s cockpit, ostensibly to carry out various checks. Before Minhas could realize it, the aircraft was rolling down the runway. There was little Minhas could do but alert air traffic control (ATC) that the aircraft was being hijacked. Rahman used what appeared to be a pistol to ensure Minhas complied with his instructions.27
A Bengali officer manning the ATC, Farid-uz-Zaman, could see the pilots fighting for the controls. He suspected this was an attempt by Mati-ur-Rahman to defect, for he was wearing neither a parachute nor a helmet. Other ATC officers sounded an alert even as the aircraft took off and disappeared. A pair of F-86s were scrambled to intercept the T-33, but could not be vectored as the aircraft went below radar cover. The stunned officers on the ground had little inkling of what had happened till late at night when a call from a police station near the Indian border reported a plane crash.
Rahman’s audacious plan to fly to India did not succeed. Thirtytwo miles short of the Indian border, the T-33 plunged to the ground. Witnesses on the ground saw the aircraft fly erratically, indicating a struggle for the controls. The crash investigation revealed the canopy was left unlocked during the flight. While it was kept in place by external air pressure, as soon as the aircraft started to fly erratically, the canopy flew off and struck the tailplane, pushing the aircraft’s nose down. This had, in all probability, resulted in Rahman being sucked out of the cockpit as he had not had time to strap himself down. As the aircraft hurtled nose first towards the ground, Minhas pulled back sharply on the stick. The T-33 stalled and crashed. The accident investigation team found a toy pistol on Rahman’s body, which lay some distance away from the crash site. Rashid Minhas’ remains lay at the crash site itself.32
Rashid Minhas was celebrated as a hero and awarded the Nishan-e-Haider, Pakistan’s highest gallantry award; his citation credits Minhas with deliberately pulling the aircraft into a dive to prevent the hijack. Mati-ur-Rahman was reviled as a traitor and a villain; his remains were interred at the Mauripur airbase, where they would remain in anonymity for nearly three and a half decades.
The T-33 hijack incident made matters worse for Bengali officers, many of whom were rounded up for interrogation. The hero of the 1965 India-Pakistan war and the 1967 Six Day war, Saif-ul-Azam, was taken into custody and found himself in the company of four other Bengali officers-Group Captain M.S. Islam, Wing Commander Kabir, Squadron Leader G.M. Choudhary and Flight Lieutenant Mizan-all of whom were interrogated rigorously about any plans by Bengali personnel to defect. After enduring twenty-one days in custody, Azam was released on the orders of the PAF CAS, Air Marshal Rahim Khan, and called for an interview. Rahim Khan, while expressing sympathy for the treatment meted out to Azam, warned him to not indulge in any ‘foolish acts and compromise Rahim Khan’s position with the army. Rahim Khan then made a stunning offer:

Azam could take premature retirement from the PAF with full benefits and passage to a third country. Once out of the PAT and Pakistan, Azam was ‘free to join the Indian Air Force for all I care’. Azam declined.
The considerably disillusioned Azam returned to his ineffective duties at his previously held appointment. Other Bengali officers were made similar offers by the PAF CAS. Group Captain M.G. Tawab, the senior-most Bengali PAF officer and a decorated veteran of the 1965 war, accepted and retired with full benefits to Germany. It was an easy decision for Tawab as his wife was a German national
It was an even easier decision for Flight Lieutenant Shaukat Islam, a former POW from the 1965 war. Islam was on an exchange programme with the Turkish Air Force when the military crackdown began. Isolated from the turmoil back home, he stayed on in Turkey. As soon as East Pakistan was liberated, it was a simple decision to return to Bangladesh rather than Pakistan. But for officers like Azam, there was no choice but to wait, in Pakistan, for the ‘Bangladesh crisis’ to be resolved.”
The earlier withdrawal of Bengali officers from flying duties was accompanied by the stand-down orders issued against Bengali airmen in West Pakistan. Bengali airmen constituted nearly a quarter of the PAF strength; the stand-down order was sure to have a detrimental effect on the PAF’s preparedness.
THE NEW REBELS IN THE EAST Back in the east, former aircrew found themselves in the role of foot soldiers. Many officers who went to India joined the Mukti Babini force. At the time of its inception, the rebel force was known as the Mukti Fauj; in a nod to Bengali linguistic nationalism, it would later become the Mukti Bahini. From a spontaneously formed ill-organized rabble, it became a complex organization owing allegiance to the provisional Government of Bangladesh (then in Calcutta). The Mukti Bahini was commanded by former Pakistan army and air force officers; recruits comprised not only former East Pakistan Rifles (EPR) ranks but also civilians who had fled West Pakistani military brutality. Nearly 100,000 youth who left families in East Pakistan were trained as volunteers during the crisis. A regular armed forces HQ was set up under Colonel M.A.G. Osmany. Group Captain Khandoker became the deputy chief of staff based in Calcutta.
The tempo of military operations picked up after the creation of the Mukti Bahini. While the BSF liaised with them at first, the Indian Army took over from May in light of West Pakistani reinforcements in East Pakistan.
By the second half of 1971, Mukti Bahini efforts were better organized and managed. In August it was reorganized as regular ‘army’; formations were formed and sorted into three brigadestrength forces. A naval wing was also formed with about 550 Bengali personnel; trained in diving, they became saboteurs. For military operations, Bangladesh was divided into eleven sectors; each was divided into five or six sub-sectors.
Some of the former PAF officers commanded the rebel forces for such sectors. Wing Commander M.K. Bashar was selected by Colonel Osmany to command Sector No. 6. (Later, Squadron Leader Hameedullah commanded Sector 11.) Flight Lieutenant Sadruddin was put in charge of a sub-sector under Bashar. It was a dramatic change for Bashar, who had been flying B-57 Canberras and commanded a Chinese H-6 bomber flight with the PAE Now, Bashar had traded his flying suit for infantry boots, commanding an ill-equipped motley force of EP Rifles, ex-policemen and irregulars numbering no more than 700.
Bashar, and the officers he led, had the unenviable task of organizing, training and directing operations against West Pakistani forces over the coming months. These included interdiction forays by the guerrillas, intelligence gathering and disruption of Pakistan army activities. The Mukti Bahini conducted a series of successful raids; on one of these, in November 1971, Sadruddin’s force captured a Pakistani officer along with five other ranks. Many former PAF airmen worked as signalmen or technicians for the land forces.

BIRTH OF THE KILO FLIGHT The ex-PAF pilots and ground crew available in the rebel forces were supplemented by defectors, pilots and technical aircrew from Pakistan International Airlines. These defections brought the total number of pilots to a dozen or so. As the former PAF officers adjusted themselves to infantry roles, the senior-most Bengali officer, Group Captain Khandoker, still nursed dreams of raising a Mukti Bahini air force.
Khandoker had requested Osmany, the Bengali C-in-C and the prime minister of the Bengali government in exile, Tajuddin Ahmed, to acquire aircraft for the air element of the Mukti Bahini. The Indian government argued that it could not offer aircraft, combat or otherwise, as the Bangladeshi government lacked formal recognition. A proposal to have Bengali pilots join the IAF was rejected by both sides. The idea of an air wing remained in limbo, but not for long.
“Towards the end of August, Air Chief Marshal P.C. Lal visited Calcutta on a forward area tour. During the visit he invited Khandoker for dinner. Khandoker arrived to find the CAS’s wife, Mrs Ela Lal present. During dinner, Khandoker reiterated the need for an aerial component for the Bengali resistance. Lal countered with an explanation of the IAF’s resource constraints and various administrative obstructions. At this point, Mrs Lal turned to the CAS and eloquently insisted the IAF ought to establish the Bangladesh Air Force. Lal was mildly taken aback at this interjection, but agreed nevertheless to make a favourable recommendation to the Government of India, along with the suggestion that perhaps some light transport aircraft could be spared. The dinner ended with Khandoker a much happier man, grateful to Mrs Lal for her support in his conversation with the CAS. Years later, Khandoker would insist that Mrs Lal had played a significant role in the establishment of the Bangladesh Air Force. Soon after, based on Lal’s recommendation, the Government of India agreed to the proposal and sanctioned the setting up of a Mukti Bahini air force.
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Khandoker now needed to identify the personnel for his fledgling air force; he knew the aircraft the IAF would make available would not be fighters, but utility aircraft or helicopters. As he went about identifying who could be seconded, he ran into an officer from the latest batch to arrive at Mujib Nagar from East Pakistani territory.
It was Flight Lieutenant Shamsul Alam, who after his arrest at Dacca airport and subsequent imprisonment, had escaped after two months on 5 August, and following a long and arduous trek, reached Mujib Nagar on 15 August at dusk.
On hearing Khandoker was at hand, Alam sought out his former instructor and reported to him. The first meeting after years shocked Alam: ‘It was in 1966 at Risalpur that I had last met him and he was my flying instructor… He seemed to have aged considerably. His whole appearance was dishevelled as if he had been spending many a sleepless night.” Alam inquired if there were plans for a Mukti Bahini air force but did not receive a straight answer. He let it rest.
A few days later, on 24 September, Shamsul Alam was sent for by Khandoker. On reporting to Khandoker, he was told to get ready to move out. No explanation was given. The two boarded an Indian Airlines Fokker flight to Gauhati. On landing at Gauhati, Alam noticed many IAF officers present. An IAF Air Vice-Marshal (probably C.G. Devasher, SASO EAC) met with Khandoker and took him aside. On returning, Khandoker and Alam were led to another area of the airfield where an IAF Caribou was waiting.
The two boarded the Caribou, which took off, and after an hour’s flight through which Khandoker maintained a tight-lipped silence, landed at an airfield with a short runway. Khandoker and Shamsul were at Dimapur, 130 miles east of Gauhati, close to Assam’s border with Nagaland. A group of ex-PAF Bengali airmen were standing for inspection on the tarmac. Khandoker broke the silence and spoke, ‘Our waiting days are over. We are going to establish our air force in exile and you are going to be the first officers of the Bangladesh Air Force. Welcome to the BAE’
A Chetak helicopter now approached the airfield and landed near the visiting officers. Alam realized it was being flown by another Bengali pilot: Flight Lieutenant Badr-ul-Alam. He had just returned from a familiarization sortie with the IAF’s Flight Lieutenant Chandra Mohan Singla who had been assigned the task of training Badr-ul-Alam. Dimapur was witnessing the birth of the Bangladesh Air Force.39
A few days earlier, Badr-ul-Alam had been pulled out of Mujib Nagar and sent to Dimapur to train on the Alouette with Singla, who had been an instructor at Hakimpet with the Helicopter Training School earlier in 1971. Just before hostilities flared up, Singla was given orders to proceed to Tezpur, where he was told by the station commander to fly an Alouette III (Chetak) to Dimapur. With little instruction, other than to expect maintenance support at Dimapur, Singla flew there and was soon joined by Group Captain Chandan Singh who arrived from Jorhat in a Dakota. Chandan Singh introduced Singla to his new pupils—the Bengali officers from the PAF, Badr-ul-Alam and a few others and was tasked with converting them to the Alouette as soon as possible. Chandan Singh told Singla he was free to ignore the IAF’s rules and regulations in his efforts to speed up the conversion.
Khandoker meanwhile had recruited Shamsul to train on a DHC 2 Otter. Six civilian pilots, Captains Khaleque, Abdus Sattar, Shahab-ud-din, Mukeet, Akram Ahmed and Sharf-uddin, joined Shamsul. With the exception of Akram Ahmed of the Plant Protection Agency’s aviation wing, the civilian pilots were ex-members of the Pakistan International Airlines (PIA). Sixtyseven Bengali airmen formed the ground crew. In addition to the Alouette and the Otter, a Douglas Dakota had been transferred from the IAF.
Khandoker then addressed the assembled officers and airmen, informing them of the formation of the Bangladesh Air Force, exhorting them to set an example for those to follow, and closed by suggesting their place in posterity was assured by their pioneering role in the BAF. The unit was officially formed on 28 September 1971; the Bangladesh Air Force still considers this its birth date.

Training commenced the same day. Badrul had trained on the Alouette and he was joined by Captain Shahab-ud-din. Shamsul Alam, Captain Akram and Captain Sharf-ud-din started conversion on a DHC-3 Otter seconded to the unit. Captain Khaleque was an experienced Boeing 707 pilot with more than 10,000 hours with the PIA and, quite naturally, was assigned training on the Dakota. Captain Sattar and Mukeet joined him.
On 2 October 1971, Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed (ex-PAF) was brought in from a Mukti Bahini sector. As the senior-most Bengali officer, Sultan became the CO of the unit. Sultan had been wounded in a ground battle and still carried a limp. Despite this handicap, he underwent conversion training on the Alouette. Singla noted the peculiar challenges of the training regime:
We were given a cot each in the ramshackle flying control building and were advised to eat with the men. The base then had only one officer and about a dozen airmen. My pupils… resented the poor quality food and lack of basic amenities. They were also under severe mental stress. Add to this their fixed wing background, age factor and the environment was not rosy. However we flew rigorously and the deadlines for day and night conversions were met.”
For administrative purposes the unit was officially designated “Kilo Flight’ on 4 October 1971. Group Captain Chandan Singh, station commander of Jorhat, in charge of air operations in the north-eastern states was put in charge of managing the flight.
The initial conversion training was done in the first few days after which the aircraft were sent for preparation’. For the next few days the fliers had nothing to do. Then on 11 October, the Otter returned to Dimapur, raising a commotion on landing. The Bengali officers and airmen were thrilled to find the Otter was painted in drab green, and sported the Bangladeshi flag-green with a red circle in the centre with the outline of East Pakistan in yellow-on its wings and tail empennage. The Otter also sported rocket pods, ex-Hunters, one under each wing.”
Singla was then directed to pick up an armed Chetak from Tezpur, which had been modified by a base repair depot, to include two rocket pods carrying seven rockets, each mounted on either side of the helicopter, and a twin-barrel machine gun bolted underneath the main helicopter pod. The rockets could only be fired in pairs.
Once again training commenced in earnest. Shamsul flew the Otter and practised bombing, rocketing and strafing with a parachute laid on a hilltop as the target. Much of the training focused on night flying. The Indian instructors included Flight Lieutenant Ghosal (instructor pilot on Otter), Flight Lieutenant Sinha (instructor and flight safety officer on C-47), and Squadron Leader Sanjay Kumar Chowdhury (Alouette).12
It was a difficult and arduous job. The pilots were out of flying since more than a year. The airmen too were required to handle new type of aircraft and new equipment. The training was to be done only during the night. The place was hilly and flying at night was dangerous especially because of complete lack of

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navigational facilities. Surmounting all these hurdles, the officers and men familiarized themselves with their new machines and equipment and got ready.”
Dimapur had not seen this much flying in decades. It was a World War II airfield with a 5,000-foot runway, a control tower, few living quarters and some civil aviation staff. Indian Airlines operated one F-27 weekly flight till the Bangladesh forces set up shop. Logistical, technical and operational support was provided by IAF Jorhat with Group Captain Chandan Singh, base commander, IAF Jorhat, coordinating operations. As Shamsul recollected, ‘Dimapur soon got back its old glory and became a vibrant place for the next three months!’
PAF OPERATIONS After Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq replaced Zafar Masud as AOC East Pakistan, he was tasked with dispatching the P-35 radar at Dacca back to West Pakistan. The radar, operated by 406 Radar Squadron, was moved to the west in October 1971. Its replacement was the recently acquired Plessey AR-1 low level radar deployed about twelve miles from Dacca near the Dacca Zoo in Mirpur. The AR-1 had a range of approximately ninety miles and had excellent low level coverage. An AR-1 unit sited at sea level could detect a British Canberra (USAF B-57) flying at sea level at a distance of forty-seven nautical miles.
Deficiencies in radar coverage were to be made up by No. 246 Mobile Observer Unit, which was deployed close to the Indian border as early as February to monitor aircraft activity. In March, due to unrest and agitations, the unit was withdrawn and relocated at the nearest army garrison. The unit lost an officer and thirtyfive airmen to a series of ambushes; some personnel were killed after being taken prisoner. This prompted the withdrawal of the remaining personnel to Tezgaon.
The single PAF squadron under Wing Commander Muhammad Afzal Chaudhary was used extensively to support Pakistan army operations. The squadron had sixteen F-86E Sabres and two T-33 trainers. Some C-130s from 5 Squadron from Chaklala and at least Iwo Alouette III helicopters were added to the operational mix. Three DHC-2 Beaver aircraft belonging to the Plant Protection Agency made good observation aircraft and were operated by army aviation pilots posted to the eastern wing. The Pakistan Army contributed one flight of No. 4 Army Aviation Squadron. The flight consisted of five Mi-8s and four Alouette Ills and was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Syed Liaqat Bokhari.”
In April, Bengali rebels took control of airfields at Lal Munir Hat, Sylhet and Ishurdi. However the Pakistan Army-aided by the PAF flying C-130s and Alouettes-wrested back control of Lal Munir Hat. Similar operations regained control of Sylhet and Ishurdi airfields. Another major operation was the retaking of Bhairab Bazaar; this required a heli-lift of eighty SSG commandos by Pakistan army Mi-8s. Two PAF Sabres, led by the CO Wing Commander Chaudhary, provided close support for these troops. They strafed and rocketed the area of operations ten minutes before Pakistan army helicopters dropped the commandos.”
Later, PAF Sabres were used against the radio station in Chittagong after it fell into the hands of a Mukti Bahini contingent commanded by Major Zia-ur-Rahman. The Sabres could not damage the buildings, but a lucky hit severed one of the antenna cables and rendered the transmission tower inoperative. Faced with unusable equipment, the rebels abandoned the station but not before moving its radio equipment to Agartala. The abandoned station was later taken over by West Pakistani troops.”?
The employment of the Sabres in close-support missions to help the ground forces against what may have been questionable targets suggests some PAF officers had internalized the rabid anti-Bengali sentiments of the West Pakistan Army. This is best revealed in a candid conversation that Colonel Nadir Ali, a Pakistan army officer, had in a PAF mess with an unnamed PAF Sabre pilot:
In the Air Force Mess at Dacca, over Scotch, a friend who later rose to a high rank said, ‘I saw a gathering of Mukti Bahini in thousands. I made a few runs and let them have it. A few hundred bastards must have been killed’. My heart sank. ‘Dear! It is the weekly Haath (Market) day and villagers gather there, ‘I informed him in horror. ‘Surely they were all bingo bastards! he added. After March, transfer of fuel from the Naryanganj jetties (southeast of Dacca) to Tezgaon became a risky affair, and the PAF began to ferry fuel in C-130 transports. A C-130 was permanently based at Dacca and was used to fetch fuel from Rangoon and Colombo. As war appeared likely, the PAF deemed it too risky to retain the C-130 and it was flown back to West Pakistan in late November
An unusual task performed by the pilots and airmen of the squadron was to fill in for PIA ground staff at Dacca after desertions by civilian personnel.”” The PAF took over the management of ticketing operations, baggage handling and passenger duties.
The airbase at Jessore was all but abandoned by the end of November; the base at Chittagong was deemed-by the AOC, East Pakistan-too remote for effective defence or utilization; its runway was blocked though the army sent a troop of AA guns which were built up to battery strength (six guns). As November drew to a close, the Pakistani armed forces were waiting-like the Mukti Bahini and the Indians-for war.
NOTES 1. “Nur Khan speaks on the 65 and 71 crisis,’ Defence Journal, Date
unknown. 2. Shaheen Foundation, The Story of the Pakistan Air Force 1947
1988-A Saga of Courage and Honour, Islamabad: Shaheen Foundation, 1988. Tufail, Air Commodore Kaiser, *F-6s at War’ accessed http://kaiseraeronaut.blogspot.com/2009/10/f-6s-at-war.html. According to
Kaiser, the first F-6s arrived in Pakistan in late ’65. 4. Ibid. 5. Shaheen Foundation, The Story of the Pakistan Air Force 1947–
1988-A Saga of Courage and Honour, Islamabad: Shaheen Foundation, 1988.
6. Vladimirov KPV ZPU-4 http://www.nationalmuseum.af.mil/
facstsheets/factsheet.asp?id-1052. Rafi, Air Commodore Rais A., PAF Bomber Operations 1965 1971 Wars, PAF Book Club. Tufail, Air Commodore Kaiser, Great Battles of the Pakistan Air Force. Also accessed on http://pafcombat.tripod.com/misc/ fighterperformance-2.html PAF’s F-86Es were located in the former) West Pakistan to No. 17, 18 and 19 Squadrons and No. 14 Squadron in the former) East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). The other four remaining squadrons
operating the older F-86 Fs were Nos 5, 11, 15 and 16 Squadrons. 10. Though the aviation community very distinctly differentiates the
CL-13 Sabre Mk.6 from the North American F-86F Sabre, the PAF had designated the Sabre as the ‘F-86E'(Asper Usman Shabir/Yawar Mazhar http://www.pakdef.info/pakmilitary/airforce/1971 war/ mirages_in_1971_air_war.html). This designation fits in with that used by pilots of the Indian Air Force; they only knew the Pakistani fighter as ‘F-86’ rather than the original Canadair name. This book will refer to the Sabre 6s just as the Indian pilots viewed them, as the ‘F-86 Sabre’ or as the Pakistanis intended it to be, the
‘F-86E Sabre’. 11. Correspondence with Tom Cooper, webmaster at http://www.acig.
org; Cooper is a noted aviation historian and author of books like Iran Iraq War in the Air, African MiGs, Arab MiG-19 & MiG-21
Units in Combat among others. 12. ‘Nur Khan speaks on the 65 and 71 crisis’, Defence Journal, Date
unknown. 13. The PAF leadership profile was always younger than that of the IAE
Rahim’s peers in the IAF were all Air Commodores commanding stations during the ’71 war. Similarly IAF squadron commanders in
the operations were as old as the station commanders in the PAE 14. “Colonial Exploitation of Bangladesh-At a Glance’, Bangladesh
Documents, Vol. 1 No. 16, published by the Government of
Bangladesh. 15. Air Commodore Jasjit Singh’s biography of Marshal Arjan Singh
The Icon makes an interesting revelation on page 286: shortly after the ’65 war, in a speech given in Calcutta, Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Sastry stated that “We are not at war with the people of East Pakistan’, a statement intended to win over the people of East
Pakistan and one that showed considerable insight into Bengali
nationalism. 16. Khan, R.EA., How Pakistan Got Divided, Karachi, Jang Publishers,
1992. 17. Pakistan claimed the hijacking was orchestrated by the Indian
government to ban the flights. Both the hijackers, though initially hailed as heroes, were arrested and kept in prison for nearly a decade. The Ganga, VT-DMA, had 21,091 airframe flight hours on its log and was one of the oldest in the IA fleet, leading to the insinuation that it was a ‘disposable’ asset. Gilani, Iftikar, ‘Who was behind the
hijacking of the IA plane Ganga?’, Kashmir Times, 3 April 2001. 18. Mujib may have been given a heads up on the impending operations
by the sympathetic Bengali COO of PAF Dacca, Wing Commander
M.K. Bashar. 19. Mascarenhas, Neville Anthony, The Rape of Bangladesh, Delhi: Vikas,
1971; see also: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-16207201 20. Cheema, Amir, Muhammad Azam and Mushtaq Madni, History of
the Pakistan Army Aviation 1947-2008, Rawalpindi: Army Aviation
Directorate, 2008. 21. Shaheen Foundation, The Story of the Pakistan Air Force: A Saga of
Courage and Honour, Islamabad: Shaheen Foundation, 1988. 22. Authors’ correspondence with Anwar Karim. 23. Aminul Islam was the chief of the DGFI then posted to Dacca, and
as chief of Military Intelligence, was one of the few commended by officials in West Pakistan. But Islam too, defected and turned up in Agartala a few days later in August 1971. However his past record as intelligence chief resulted in him being placed in custody till the end of the war. 24. ‘Witnessing Victory,’ The Daily Star, Victory Supplement, 2005
http://www.thedailystar.net/suppliments/2005/victory_day/vic10.
htm 25. Interview with Sadruddin. 26. Correspondence with Group Captain Shamsul Alam. Alam refers
to the internment camp as Concentration Camp’, which going by
the description of his treatment was not too far off the mark. 27. Tufail, Kaiser, ‘Bluebird 166 is hijacked’ at http://kaiser-aeronaut.
blogspot.com/2012/10/bluebird-166-is-hijacked_8656.html. 2012. This recently published article makes several new assertions: that Mati-ur-Rahman’s act was actually a group effort and that other
Bengali officers helped move Mati’s family to the Indian High Commission in Karachi. Mati’s wife and kids were retrieved by the Pakistanis from the Indian High Commission after the day of the
event and interned. 28. Captain Mohammed Farid-uz-Zaman, Saudi Arabian Airlines,
Jeddah, KSA (www.thedailystar.net/2006/07/02/d607021101119.
htm ) The Daily Star, Vol. 5, No. 745 Sunday, 2 July 2006. 29. PakDef E-Reporter Webzine Vol. 1, Issue. 2 – accessed at http://
www.pakdef.info/ereporter/PakDef%20Mag%20Vol%201%20
Issue%202.pdf 30. Ibid. 31. Haider, Sajad. S., Flight of the Falcon, Lahore: Vanguard Books,
2009. 32. Ibid. 33. Mati-ur-Rahman’s remains were eventually repatriated to
Bangladesh with full military honors in 2006. 34. Correspondence via Anwar Karim. 35. Sadruddin’s correspondence with the authors. 36. Group Captain Capt. Shamsul Alam insists that the ex-PAF pilots
rejected the idea. But in a different correspondence, Captain Ashraf of the PIA claims that the proposal came from the Interim
Government and was declined by the Indian Air Force. 37. Correspondence with Group Captain Shamsul Alam. 38. Ibid. 39. The Bangladesh Air Force commemorates 28 September as Air
Force Day. 40. Isser, Rajesh, The Purple Legacy: Indian Air Force Helicopters in Service
of the Nation, New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2012, pp. 69-71. 41. The Otter was an ex-Indian Air Force machine, serial IM
1713. Procured in 1957 from Canada, the aircraft saw years of service with 59 Squadron and the various flights in Eastern Air
Command. 42. This officer also flew combat missions with the Bengali aircrew on
several occasions on Otters. 43. Alam, Badrul, Bangladesh Observer, December 1972. 44. Haider, Sajad, Flight of the Falcon: Demolishing Myths of Indo-Pak
Wars 1965–71, Lahore: Vanguard Books, 2009. 45. One of the six Mi-8s would be shipped back to Pakistan before
hostilities broke out, leaving live MI-8s and four Alouette IIIs.

46. For a comprehensive coverage of the Pakistan Army Aviation
Squadron operations, refer to History of Pakistan Army Aviation 1947-2007 by Azam, Major General Mohammed, Colonel Mushtaq Madni and Major Aamir Mushtaq Cheema. The book is available for download at http://archive.org/download/
PakistanArmyAviation 1947-2007/Aviation History.pdf 47. Khan, Z.A., The Way It Was, Karachi: Ikramul-Majeed Sehgal,
1998. 48. Ali, Nadir, A Khaki Dissident on 1971 (Viewpoint) http://www.
viewpointonline.net/a-khaki-dissident-on-1971.html, 2012. 49. Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Tail Choppers-50 Years of Excellence
(1948-1998), Karachi: PAF Book Club, 2007, p. 89.

56

THREE
War Clouds Gather
The First Clashes

EASTERN AIR COMMAND Eastern Air Command-the IAF’s second oldest operational command after WAC-washeadquarteredin Shillong, Meghalaya. Its genesis lay in the establishment of No. 1 Operational Group at Rani Kutir in Calcutta on 27 May 1958. The group was then upgraded to command status in December 1959 and moved to Fort William in Calcutta. With three major airfields, Kalaikunda (5 Wing), Barrackpore (11 Wing) and Jorhat (10 Wing) at its disposal, EAC’s area of responsibility encompassed West Bengal and the politically sensitive northeastern states—Tripura, Mizoram, Nagaland, Meghalaya, Arunachal Pradesh and Assameast of the Siliguri corridor.
EAC’s operational infrastructure had developed slowly over the years. Several advanced landing grounds (ALGS) sprouted in the early 1960s at Walong, Pasighat and Tawang (in Arunachal Pradesh) while major airbases were constructed and made operational at Tezpur and Chabua (in Assam). The 1962 IndoChina war had highlighted the difficulty Calcutta’s remoteness from NEFA caused for its location as EAC’s headquarters. So for effective operational control of the northeast, EAC moved to Shillong on 10 June 1963. A new command, Central Air Command (CAC), was raised at Rani Kutir and placed in charge of air operations in West Bengal, Uttar Pradesh and the region south of the Siliguri corridor between Nepal and East Pakistan. Airfields in West Bengal north of the Siliguri corridor would fall under EAC’s purview.
However, the 1965 war revealed the inadequacies of this arrangement, as both IAF commands were unable to tackle the lone PAF squadron in the east on the first day of operations. Command boundaries were thus redrawn after the IAF commanders’ conference in 1969: CACHQ moved from Calcutta to Allahabad and control of major airfields in Kalaikunda and Barrackpore in West Bengal passed to EAC. CAC would control airfields in central India, which included Bareilly, Agra, Pune and Gorakhpur. With Canberras operating only out of the latter three bases, control of the IAF’s Canberra fleet passed to CAC. In 1971, to consolidate night bombing operations, the An-12s of 44 Squadron–then being used as bombers-moved to Bareilly after commencement of hostilities and were operated by CAC. It also held two Sukhoi-7 units, which were later split between Western and Eastern Air Commands in the build-up to the 1971 war.
Air Vice-Marshal Maurice Barker, the first Anglo-Indian officer to be commissioned in the IAF,’ was the AOC-in-C, CAC. While EAC and WAC would concentrate on air defence and army support, CAC would focus on maritime operations, paradropping, transport and bomber operations. CAC was well placed to carry out these tasks as it oversaw most of the Gangetic Plain, including Agra where the Canberra force was based, and the southern peninsula, covering Bombay (which housed support aircraft for maritime operations), Vishakhapatnam and Cochin.
In April 1971, Air Marshal H.C. Dewan took over from Air Marshal H.N. Chatterjee DFC as AOC-in-C, EAC. Dewan, one of the few TAF pilots to have flown with RAF Bomber Command during the World War II, had previously served as AOC-in-C, Maintenance Command. His senior air staff officer (SASO), Air Vice-Marshal C.G. Devasher, was assisted by two officers of Air

Commodore rank: K.M. Ram as the Air 1 and D.G. ‘Dougie’ King-Lee as the commander of the No. 3 Air Defence Direction Centre.’ Squadron Leader M.R. ‘Manna’ Murdeshwar, a Gnat veteran of the 1965 war, assisted Devasher in staff duties. Two weeks before operations, Wing Commander S.K. ‘Polly’ Mehra, former CO of 28 Squadron, joined him to fill the vacant post of staff officer.
Eastern Air Command’s tasks, in order of priority, were air defence of its area of responsibility; preventing PAF interference with Indian army and naval operations, and supporting Indian ground forces. Devasher and his staff, given considerable leeway in their work by Dewan, drew up war plans, allocated tasks and war stores to squadrons, arranged administrative and logistical support, planned squadron movements and consulted the army to devise a demand plan for its anticipated support missions.
Air Headquarters in Delhi had its own war plans that it continued to update and deliver to the command HQs. (Indeed, the Deputy Chief of Air Staff, Air Marshal H.N. Chatterjee would personally deliver the most up-to-date plan to Air Marshal Dewan the night before hostilities broke out.) Air HQ left enough leeway for the local commanders to exercise their initiative and a communication channel to provide feedback from the stations to the Command HQ to the Air HQ was established.
AIRCRAFT HOLDINGS EAC’s first task required combat air patrols over key airfields; the second, the elimination of the PAF squadron at Tezgaon by counter air strikes. Intelligence from Bengali defectors prior to commencement of operations had revealed the PAF’s limited aircraft inventory at Dacca. There was little a single squadron of Sabres could have done to resist Indian intervention in the East Pakistan genocide, but the IAF’s planning left little to chance.
To counter putative Chinese threats, three of the IAF’s six Hunter squadrons were based in the east. After the 1965 war, more IAF squadrons moved east. By November 1971, EAC had accumulated eleven fighter squadrons: one Sukhoi-7 squadron borrowed from CAC, three MiG-21 squadrons, four Hunter squadrons, and three Gnat squadrons. By the end of November, the following units formed the offensive component of EAC.

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In addition to these, CAC’s 16 Squadron, operating Canberras from Gorakhpur, was available for operations in the eastern sector.
Besides its regular airbases, EAC could call on other airfields for operations. Some of these-like Barrackpore, Jorhat and Gauhati-were used for transport operations. Others like Dum Dum, Panagarh and Agartala-were civilian airports. Dum Dum was in Calcutta and routing arrangements for IAF aircraft exploited its proximity to the border. Panagarh and Agartala were run by the Directorate General of Civil Aviation. A third civilian airfield was Kumbhirgram, close to Silchar in Assam.
AIR DEFENCE ORGANIZATION After the IAF’s chastening experiences in the eastern sector in 1965, the air defence of the Eastern Command was organized into two sectors. That of West Bengal and Bihar, west of the Siliguri corridor, was the responsibility of Advance HQ, EAC, while that of Assam, east of Siliguri, was assigned to No. 3 Air Defence Control Centre.
In addition to air defence squadrons, a network of low level AA guns, radars and missile squadrons was built. A last-minute effort was also made to organize and deploy mobile observer units by November 1971. Between July and August 1971, nine air defence regiments were deployed to provide cover to IAF bases, radar units, communication centres, strategic rail and road bridges, armoured formations, storage depots and forward gun areas. These were organized into two independent air defence brigades: 342 Independent Air Defence Brigade at Panagarh and 312 Independent Air Defence Brigade at Shillong.

Indian intelligence efforts were aided by ex-PAF Bengali officers and airmen from the Mukti Bahini. The gleanings from these sources not only enabled a partial assessment of Tezgaon’s defences and the PAF’s order of battle, but also established just how effective Pakistani intelligence efforts had been. For instance, Squadron Leader Murdeshwar, on interviewing a Bengali pilot who had defected from the PAF, was surprised to hear the PAF knew of the deployment of 221 Squadron at Panagarh. Murdeshwar also learned of Tezgaon’s layout, including the position of aircraft parking aprons and control buildings. Still, the accuracy of the intelligence model built from this information was limited.
REFUGEE EVACUATIONS EAC’s operations started with mercy missions to cope with the influx of East Pakistani Bengali refugees, many of whom were settled in camps in West Bengal, Tripura and Meghalaya. Those who reached Tripura were often airlifted in IAF transports to camps in West Bengal. The initial sorties were flown in aircraft belonging to the IAF and the Aviation Research Centre (ARC), the aviation wing of the Indian intelligence agency, the Research and Analysis Wing (RAW). ARC operated a mix of IAF and civilian aircraft-mostly flown by IAF personnel-seconded to it. One of them was Flight Licutenant Anant Bewoor, who flew into Agartala on several occasions to evacuate the refugees:
After the crackdown in East Pakistan in March 1971, there was a deluge of refugees across the borders into Bengal, Tripura, Meghalaya and Assam. Those of us who witnessed the deluge cannot forget the frightened look in their eyes. Those who spoke Bengali heard unimaginable tales of cruelty and massacres.
The airlifting of these refugees took some flying. The An-12 has just ninety-odd seats, and taking each passenger to be 100 kg, the max load of 9,000 kg would be reached. Well before the Hercules C-130s reached India, An-12s from ARC and the IAF, and C-46s were busy ferrying out East Pakistanis from Agartala. In Agartala, the barbed wire marking the border between India and East Pakistan runs just fifteen feet from 02 Dumbbell of the extra short runway. Of course one cannot land on Runway 02 because the approach would have been over East Pakistan. An actual case of someone using the wrong runway was Virk. Making a left-hand approach on RW 18, he saw RW 20, and rolled out on finals. On query, we heard a meek, ‘Sorry landed on 02’.
Each refugee carried just a small bundle of clothes like our dhobi does. They were lightly built, and not one of them weighed more than 50 kg. So notwithstanding the not-so-short Runway 18/36, we would pack at least 145 persons and fly out to Gauhati or Calcutta. When families could not be split the figure rose to 155. It was a very efficiently and swiftly executed operation. What is more pertinent is that there was no fanfare and media glare that accompanied the Hercules airlift, which they later christened Operation Bonny Jack, named after an East Pakistani child adopted by the Americans….
It was not easy doing all this. We all flew between cight to ten hours a day, and night halt was prohibited at Agartala because of security, and at times shelling from across the border. The weather was dicey as it always is in late March and early April in that part of India. Navigation aids were poor, and as far as I can remember our Big Brother radar in Meghalaya could never get a pick up if there was more than three Octa of clouding. On one occasion the rain was so terribly thick that I was sure that there was no air for the engines to breathe, only water, surely a flame out was imminent.
Bewoor’s reference to ‘Operation Bonny Jack’ was to the effort of four C-130 Hercules transport aircraft that the United States Air Force contributed towards the refugee evacuation effort. In May 1971, the Indian government had requested the United States to provide four C-130 transport aircraft and crews to help ferry the Bengali refugees who had fled to camps near Agartala and Assam. The US state department, after deliberations with their embassy in Pakistan, asked the request be routed through the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). After the UNHCR took on this task, the US government approved the deployment of four C-130s for thirty days.’ ‘Operation Bonny Jack’ ran from 12 June till 14 July.
The C-130s were supposed to fly from Pope Air Force Base, in North Carolina in the US, to Gauhati Air Force Station, then commanded by Wing Commander V.C. Mankotia. To support C-130 operations ten C-141 Starlifter sorties flew in equipment and provisions from Frankfurt to Gauhati.
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Squadron Leader Gautam Guba, a former An-12 navigator was seconded from 49 Squadron at Jorhat to act as liaison officer to the USAF contingent. The initial Starlifter sorties were commanded by Colonel Charles Turnipseed. Guha apprised the American crews of local conditions and flight restrictions over northeast airspace. He had fond memories of his American counterparts:
Col. Turnipseed, a Texan veteran of WWII and Korea and a Packet pilot was the head of the group. He was rugged, and quite active, very humane. Captain Roman, one of the pilots, was a Ph.D. in industrial engineering, who told me that a job was waiting for him in USA as soon as he finished his tenure in the Air Force, Captain Wayne Wiltshire was a hot-blooded Texan pilot who insisted on wearing a Texan gallon hat with his flying overalls. He used to fly the C-130 Hercules like a fighter,
so much so that when he was executing a tight turn on finals for the runway in Gauhati, a woman refugee in the same aircraft who was in an advanced stage of pregnancy delivered a baby during the turn. The Americans promptly christened the baby “Bonny Jack’. The pilots were ex-Vietnam war where they had carried out ops under trying circumstances. Wing Commander Mankotia used to provide nans, tandoori roti, tandoori murga to the Americans in the Officers’ Mess so he became their hot favourite. There never was a dull moment with him around.
The C-130s carried out a total of 308 sorties in thirty days of operations. They flew out 23,000 refugees and in the flights to Agartala, brought in over 2,000 tons of food and medical supplies. The aircraft were promptly withdrawn at the end of the thirtyday deployment. The US was reluctant to antagonize its West Pakistani allies by becoming too involved with the airlift. While the aircrew involved in the airlift may have appreciated the travails of the East Pakistanis, the US administration in Washington was still ambivalent about the military crackdown in progress in East Pakistan.
“THE EYES OF EASTERN COMMAND’: HASHIMARA’S BLACK PANTHERS With memories of the poor intelligence available to pilots in 1965 still fresh, the IAF was tasked with photo-reconnaissance and probing missions to determine the reaction capabilities of the PAF. Many of these gathered photo coverage of forward positions for Indian army formations. Normally such requests from the army would have taken days to accomplish but thanks to Eastern Command’s latest asset, the turnaround time for photoreconnaissance was just hours. That asset was 37 Squadron.
Based at Hashimara and commanded by Wing Commander S.K. ‘Suppi’ Kaul, 37 Squadron, ‘Black Panthers’, flew the fighter reconnaissance (FR) Hunters equipped with nose cameras. Till March 1971, Kaul had flown MiG-21s as a flight commander with 30 Squadron. On his promotion in April 1971 Kaul was posted to Hashimara to take over 37 Squadron, bringing with him a wealth of reconnaissance experience to a unit badly in need of leadership. The Panthers had operated without a CO for a while and were being utilized as an operational conversion unit with inexperienced pilots on staff; aircraft serviceability was low and opportunities for flying were scarce.
When Kaul took over, 37 Squadron had barely cight Hunters. With morale low and minimal flying under way, Kaul wondered if he had been sent to oversee the squadron’s number plating. But that was not EAC’s intention. Kaul was able to get additional aircraft issued by the maintenance unit to build the squadron’s strength to fourteen aircraft and its role switched from operational conversion to fighter reconnaissance.
Traditionally the IAF’s reconnaissance requirements were met by 106 Squadron, a strategic reconnaissance (SR) unit based at Agra flying Canberra PR versions, which usually flew at high-altitude to carry out vertical photography on airfields, ammunition dumps, railway marshalling yards and cantonments. Sending out an SR aircraft, interpreting its photographic reports and generating intelligence reports were lengthy processes; their outputs had greater value to command HQs and larger formations.
The army’s requirement for speedier photo intelligence that would address the tactical needs of smaller formations was met by fighter aircraft flying at low level using vertical and oblique cameras. Such aircraft were less vulnerable than SR aircraft like the Canberras; their low level regime helped avoid detection by enemy radar, presented less reaction time for AA guns, and often provided an element of surprise. The limited low level coverage of the vertical cameras would be supplemented by oblique cameras, which covered terrain from the edges of the vertical camera range to the horizon.
For decades, the IAF’s FR requirements had been met by 101 and 108 (FR) Squadrons, flying the two-seater De Havilland Vampire PR55.” By 1971 the Vampires had been phased out as their squadrons converted to the Sukhoi-7. While photo-pods adapted by the IAF’s maintenance wing on the Sukhois fulfilled
some FR requirements, there were no fighter units dedicated to FR in 1971, especially in the eastern sector where the lone Sukhoi-7 squadron at Panagarh was tasked with standard operational duties. The reason for selecting 37 Squadron to provide FR for the eastern sector is unknown, but Kaul’s previous experience as a flight commander in 108 PR Squadron helped.
Hunter Mk.56s of 37 Squadron were accordingly modified for their new duties. Three cameras were fitted in the nose-one for vertical photography, and two for oblique on either side just behind the vertical camera, and panels were cut in the fuselage and windows provided for the cameras. These cameras the F200 and F89-were the same models as fitted on the IAF: Vampires; each could expose 200 prints in one sortie.
FR pilots, required to observe the target area and identify items of interest, often wrote notes on pads fixed to the thigh; these additional details helped supplement the photographic record and enabled better photo-interpretation. Earlier FR aircraft like the Vampire were trainers, flown with two pilots; one pilot concentrated on flying, looking out for obstacles like high tension wires, towers and buildings, while the other concentrated on navigation, visual identification, and note-making. It was dangerous for a pilot in the single seat Hunter to do both; it became standard for FR missions to be flown with two aircraft, with the second pilot responsible for detecting and dealing with airborne threats. Most importantly, information gathered by two pilots was considerably more accurate than that collected by a lone pilot. Still, many details gathered by the pilots were fuzzy by the time they returned to base: with so many visual inputs flashing by at low level, it was an increasingly difficult task to note them on their notepads.” Kaul accordingly suggested the Hunters’ cockpits be outfitted with tape recorders. A few Murphy units were procured; these were compact and unobtrusive, and provided thirty minutes of audiotape.
Two aircraft and six cameras could produce over a thousand prints from a single sortie. To support this photographic output, the squadron was authorized to start a photographic cell manned by a dozen airmen responsible for developing the film and drying the negatives. Once the pilots marked negatives of interest, they were processed for printing. The pilots would annotate the photographs, which were then sent to the photo-interpretation cells with the army and command HQ.13
Kaul and his pilots began training in earnest. They would procure inch and quarter-inch maps used by the army, earmark a target like a bridge and carry out several photo runs. The CO or the flight commander would do a preliminary flight to capture a set of baseline images against which the individual pilot’s work could be compared to gauge the accuracy of navigation and FR work.
During these training missions the overwhelming humanitarian crisis created by the West Pakistan Army’s brutal activities in East Pakistan became visible to the pilots, who could scarcely have missed seeing the massive refugee camps along the border in the Cooch Behar region.
One of the first reconnaissance sorties given to 37 Squadron was a strategic target. The PAF had flown C-130s into Lal Munir Hat airfield during the early stages of the Pakistan Army’s brutal crackdown; reports of aircraft operating out of the airfield

prompted IAF planners to request additional information on airfield activity. Lal Munir Hat’s proximity to the Indian border and Hashimara made it an obvious and an easy ‘target’ for the Black Panthers. Photographing an airfield using FR cameras would require cameras with a swath of at least two kilometres. The vertical camera in the Hunter’s nose was ruled out and the oblique fitted cameras pressed into service. Kaul decided photographs would be taken by banking the aircraft and letting the oblique cameras have a go.
The first mission was flown on 20 October 1971 by CO Kaul and Flying Officer Harish ‘Khappe’ Masand as his No. 2. Short of the airfield, Kaul and Masand climbed to 2,000 feet, at which point both pilots banked their aircraft to let the right oblique camera photograph the airfield. With one eye on the airfield and the other watching out in the front, the pilots completed the photo run, straightened out and flew back. Their photographs showed the airfield’s blast pens and taxiways but no activity was discernible; the PAF appeared to not have activated the airfield for regular operations.
An FR sortie to the abandoned airfield of Saidpur on 4 November 1971 was followed by missions more in conformance with the squadron’s assigned role-surveying gun positions at Jamalpur and Sherpur (101 Communication Zone Area) on 16 November and bunkers and dug-in troops at Dinajpur two days later. By the time operations commenced, 37 Squadron had flown nine missions a total of eighteen sorties and taken thousands of photographs of immense value to the ground campaign.
The Black Panthers were but one of the four Hunter squadrons in Eastern Air Command. No. 17 Squadron (‘Golden Arrows’), commanded by Wing Commander Narinder Chatrath was colocated at Hashimara. This was not Chatrath’s first stint as a CO. As a Squadron Leader, Chatrath commanded No. 55 Auxiliary Squadron at Calcutta, which was later converted to a full-fledged squadron: No. 221. After a stint in Iraq as an instructor, he was promoted to Wing Commander and became CO of 17 Squadron. Chatrath’s three-year tenure as CO was coming to an end, and he

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was due to be promoted to Group Captain and given command of a Wing, but the war came on so quickly that Chatrath would soon have the opportunity to lead the squadron into combat.
Chatrath was ably assisted by two flight commanders, Squadron Leaders A.W. Lele and T.R. Patel. Several pilots with combat experience including Flight Lieutenant Vinod Kumar Neb, who had earned a Vir Chakra for his F-86 Sabre kill in the 1965 war-served with the squadron. Unlike 37 Squadron, 17 Squadron was focused on ground attack and interdiction.
Group Captain K.P. Mishra, the station commander, led this ‘Hunter Haven’ at Hashimara. Due to a family emergency, he went on leave just before war broke out, and the station was commanded by Wing Commander R.V. ‘Kismet’ Singh, the OC Flying. R.V. Singh was an ex-CO of the Battle Axes, and thus was fully versed with Hunter operations and working with the other two commanding officers.
Roughly sixty-five miles east of these two Hunter units, Bagdogra was home to 7 Squadron (The Battle Axes’). Wing Commander B.A. Coelho was the commanding officer, with Squadron Leaders S.K. Gupta and A.D. Alley as flight commanders. Of the four Hunter units, 7 Squadron was a relative newcomer; it had operated as an OCU for some years with many junior pilots on its rolls.
The fourth and the last Hunter Squadron with Eastern Air Command was 14 Squadron (“The Bulls’), which had been stationed at Kalaikunda since the early 1960s. Like the other Hunter units at Hashimara, 14 Squadron had served with Eastern Command in the previous war; then, it had performed creditably under Wing Commander D.A. La Fontaine accounting for two PAF F-86 Sabres claimed in the eastern sector.
In early 1971, Wing Commander Ramanathan “Sandy’ Sundaresan took over 14 Squadron. Sundaresan had been the CO of the Operational Conversion Unit (OCU) at Jamnagar, earning a Vayu Sena Medal in early 1971 in the process. Squadron Leaders Madhav ‘KC’ Kashav and Ramesh ‘Sachs’ Sachdeva were the Bull’s flight commanders.

CENTRAL COMMAND’S SWORD: THE VALIANTS OF PANAGARH Eastern Command’s combat strength had been boosted by the transfer, in mid-1971, of 221 Squadron, a Sukhoi-7 unit from Central Command, one of the two permanently based at Bareilly. The squadron had undergone a change in command, with Wing Commander Annaswami Sridharan, the squadron’s former flight commander, taking over from Wing Commander K.K. Sen on 7 July 1971. Sridharan was an old hack on the Sukhoi, one of the first to do the conversion course in the Soviet Union.
Shortly after taking over, Sridharan was informed by the AOCin-C Central Command that his squadron would move to the eastern sector for operations, based at either Gauhati in Assam or Panagarh in West Bengal. Gauhati was an established base for transport operations, the IAF intended for Tezpur’s MiGs to operate from there as well.
Panagarh, in contrast, was a recently activated airfield, originally built during WW II, it was barely more than a disused runway under the control of the Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA). The IAF sanctioned work to increase the runway length to 9,000 feet, build taxiways and carry out apron repairs. Facilities were sparse: there were no hangars, though work was underway to construct a pair. Panagarh did have the advantage of being connected to Bareilly by rail; the movement of men and material would be smoother than transportation to Gauhati which entailed a change from broad gauge to metre gauge lines near the Siliguri corridor.
So Sridharan opted to move to Panagarh; his flight commanders O.N. ‘Pop’ Wadhwan and S.V. Bhutani accompanied him. The squadron needed to position men and material at the forward base to build up infrastructure, a task accomplished by the end of October 1971. The squadron’s personnel and equipment moved by train; its aircraft were flown in later. Two hangars were built by the end of October. One hangar was allocated to aircraft, while the other was given to the daily servicing section (DSS). For administrative purposes, Panagarh operated as No. 6 Care and Maintenance Unit (6 CMU).”

Sridharan was initially requested to serve as the station commander. But he declined, feeling he would not do justice to both roles; more importantly, for this pilot, working as station commander would have meant flying fewer operational sorties as CO. At Sridharan’s request, Wing Commander G.K. ‘Chotu’ Bakhle, the OC Flying at Bareilly, was posted as the station commander for Panagarh. Not only did he have a good rapport with Sridharan, but he was also conversant with Sukhoi-7 operations, having flown the type during his stint at Bareilly. Bakhle’s initial impressions of Panagarh’s preparedness were not positive: ‘We had to do a lot of work; cleaning, re-levelling the shoulders and taxi track. Security was needed, because there were bullock carts using it as a road. We operated as a satellite of KKD; all base facilities were provided by KKD.’
Panagarh’s formal activation took place on 29 October, when four Sukhoi-7s landed at the airfield. There were no hardcover pens and the squadron personnel were soon busy building temporary pens built from sandbags and covered with camouflage nets. Some half a dozen AA guns were also placed at Panagarh for airfield protection.
The next few weeks were used for area familiarization, reconnaissance up to the border, and gunnery and bombing practices on the ranges. In November, Air Chief Marshal Lal carried out a pre-war inspection visit and two MiG-21 FLs from Kalaikunda arrived for ORP duties. Panagarh was set for war.
CENTRAL COMMAND’S ANVIL’: THE COBRAS OF GORAKHPUR The Valiants were not the only squadron Central Air Command would contribute to the war on the eastern front; it also provided one Canberra squadron.
For years, 16 Squadron (‘Black Cobras’) had been stationed at Kalaikunda. Following its losses on the ground during the 1965 war, the squadron moved to the west to Gorakhpur in 1966, where it had remained ever since. The squadron, equipped with the Canberra interdictor version, had practised both bombing and interdiction. The summer of 1971 found 16 Squadron still at Gorakhpur, now under the command of Wing Commander Padmanabha Gautam MVC VM. Gautam was an IAF legend for his two combat decorations: the Vayu Sena Medal carned during the Congo Operations with the UN force, and the Maha Vir Chakra awarded for his role in the 1965 war. He was assisted by the two flight commanders, Squadron Leader P.M. Takle and Squadron Leader S.D. Karnik, and the navigation leader, Squadron Leader K.K. Dutta.
Gautam loved flying and was apt to take up the most mundane tasks, even the lowly air tests disdained by many of his fellow aviators. His navigation leader, Squadron Leader K.K. Dutta ably assisted him in these adventures.
Every Canberra squadron had one officer from the navigation stream designated Navigation Leader; as the senior most navigator in the squadron, Dutta assumed this role and was responsible for the training and readiness of the squadron navigators. Gautam gave Dutta, a veteran of 1965 war, the freedom to enact several measures to improve the squadron’s operational efficiency.
The first was to form pilot-navigator pairs and designate them to fly throughout the war as a team. The second was to discard the insistence on an exact ‘time over target’ (TOT) and fixed spacing between aircraft in a bomber stream. During the previous war, the TOTS were generic and fixed. The lead aircraft was given a TOT and subsequent aircraft in the stream would come in at tenminute intervals. Once the first aircraft was over the target, the defending AA gunners timed the fixed interval to guess when the following aircraft would be over them. Dutta discarded the fixed TOT concept, opting instead for a flexible window of time, thus keeping the unpredictability of the aircraft’s TOT as the attacker’s advantage. Finally the CO and navigation leader put more emphasis on planning sorties in line with tactical and strategic requirements-unlike the 1965 operations, where the IAF, seemingly by force of habit, sent its Canberra squadrons against Sargodha night after night with no pre-determined objectives.
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Early in October, Gautam was called to the Central Command HQ at Allahabad for a briefing by the C-in-C, Air Vice-Marshal Barker, and informed his squadron would operate primarily against targets in the eastern sector with occasional missions in the western sector. While other squadrons from Central Command, No. 5 and JBCU in Agra and No. 35 in Pune, would share the burden of the missions in the west, the eastern sector would be the exclusive responsibility of 16 Squadron.
The squadron continued its training apace. Pilots were paired with navigators in teams and sent on practice missions against airfields and bridges. The abandoned airfields at Gorakhpur like Fursatganj and Phaphamau became regular ‘targets for these training missions. The pattern of these sorties was always lo-lo-hi from dawn to dusk and navigation at low level by moonlight was emphasized. Natural features like river bends, dry riverbeds and
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lakes were utilized and the IAF crews were briefed to avoid towns and other populated areas.
In October, Gautam was called to attend a meeting at Eastern Air Command at Shillong. Along with Dutta, Gautam flew to Gauhati at low level, ostensibly to avoid radars in East Pakistan (there were none). At the HQ, they were met by a representative from Eastern Naval Command as well as Advance HQ, EAC at Fort William, Calcutta.
In this meeting, the squadron’s tasks were clearly detailed: its primary targets were the airfields at Tezgaon, Kurmitola, Jessore and Chittagong, followed by logistical and Pakistan Army concentrations. The assignment of specific targets helped renew the training of the aircrews.
Dutta gave additional practice sorties to the aircrew to fly these routes till the Indian border before turning back. These helped squadron aircrews familiarize themselves with routes and landmarks. During this period, Gautam was summoned to CAC HQ and tasked with testing a “glue bomb’ to neutralize PAF runways. This was a newly designed bomb that would disperse thousands of small anti-tire tripods that would stick to the tarmac with the help of a special adhesive. It had been developed by the Institute of Armament Technology at Pune, which wanted a Canberra squadron to carry out trials and possibly employ it in war. CAC allocated four airfields against which the new bomb would be used. The plan was to fly two-aircraft missions, with one aircraft dropping flares to light up the target airfield, while the second aircraft would fly in at low level to drop the bomb on the runway.
To meet this new requirement, the aircrew was split into two groups: one would practise on the new bomb and fly missions to the western sector, while the second would focus on East Pakistan. Gautam elected to be the one to carry out the ‘glue bomb’ attacks; his flight commander P.M. Takle also joined the first group. The operations against East Pakistan were the responsibility of the other flight commander, S.D. Karnik. In the end the ‘glue bomb’
would only be used in the western sector and was never employed in the eastern sector.
‘FIGHTER Town’: THE MIGS OF TEZPUR The trump card in Eastern Air Command’s arsenal was Tezpur Air Force Station, home to No. 11 Wing. Located at the foothills of the Himalayas in Assam, Tezpur was a bustling base, playing host to Vampires, Hunters, Ouragans and various transport aircraft.
In November 1966, 4 Squadron, then flying Ouragans, reequipped with the MiG-21 FL. The squadron completed reequipping with the MiG in a few months and were soon joined by 28 Squadron-‘The First Supersonics’-the IAF’s first MiG21 squadron, which arrived in February 1968 from Adampur (then commanded by Wing Commander S.K. ‘Polly’ Mehra). The squadron brought with it its experience of the 1965 war, and quickly became busy with operational flying training and ORP duties along with 4 Squadron.
In November 1969, a third MiG-21 unit, 30 Squadron– “The Charging Rhinos’-commanded by Wing Commander V.S. “Baby’ Chaddha, was raised at 11 Wing. Chaddha, a graduate of 61 Pilots Course, was joined by two course-mates who took over as COs of Tezpur’s other MiG-21 squadrons: Wing Commander B.K. ‘Bhoop’ Bishnoi took over 28 Squadron in April 1970 from Wing Commander S.K. Mehra and Wing Commander J.V. Gole took over 4 Squadron in June from Wing Commander R.A. Weir.
Meanwhile, Group Captain M.S.D. ‘Mally’ Wollen, an eightyear veteran on the MiG-21, and one of the few Indian pilots to have flown it against a Sabre in air combat during the 1965 war,” took over as the commanding officer of 11 Wing from Group Captain Bharat Singh.
The 11 Wing was already a formidable station under the command of Bharat Singh and the two outgoing COs. The new team of Wollen, Bishnoi, Chaddha and Gole now honed the station into a ‘lean and mean’ fighting machine. The MiGs practised air combat, counter air, close air support, and bombing
on the nearby Lal Mukh ranges, employing British and Russian bombs. Thanks to their easy availability, rockets quickly became the weapon of choice. While 23 mm Gasba gun pods were available, their deployment provided little value. With the centreline fuel tank replacing the gunpod, the MiGs’ range was drastically curtailed, proving too short for effective air cover for escort missions to targets over Dacca. Moreover, it took an inordinate amount of time and effort to fit and harmonize a gunpod to a MiG. The single-seaters flew without the gunpod, equipped with rockets or bombs and the centreline fuel drop tank.
On 30 March 1971, four days after the Pakistan Army crackdown began in East Pakistan, Bishnoi was ordered by EAC HQ to carry out a four-aircraft sweep over Sylhet in East Pakistani territory to gauge the readiness of the PAF Bishnoi led the fouraircraft mission flying over Shillong and 509 HU at Laitkor Peak and then on into East Pakistani territory. The MiGs flew to the Sylhet airfield, swung right and flew towards Dacca. There was no response from PAF Sabres; the MiGs returned soon, their intrusion into East Pakistani airspace seemingly unnoticed.
With war clouds gathering, EAC planned more effective employment of the MiGs. Tezpur was too far to enable the MiGs to strike at Dacca, so plans were made to deploy the MiGs closer to the East Pakistani border. Gauhati, a transport station, was chosen as the forward airfield from where the MiGs would operate during the hostilities; a few aircraft would be retained at Tezpur to counter Chinese threats. The war plans also called for the commander of 11 Wing, Group Captain Wollen, to move to Gauhati and oversee operations for the duration of the war.
In October 1971, as war preparations quickly progressed, IAF pilots were recalled from training command, brought up to operational status and aircraft painted in camouflage colours. Each squadron had eight aircraft available at one-hour readiness.
Meanwhile, 30 Squadron had moved to Kalaikunda, tasked with air defence of that sector. With that as its main base, 30 Squadron would send a two-aircraft detachment to Panagarh airfield to bolster its defences. Other IAF squadrons soon began posting detachments to Gauhati. 4 Squadron was the first to station four aircraft at Gauhati-equipped with rocket pods-for retaliatory strikes.20
In November, the Chief of Air Staff, Air Chief Marshal Lal, went on a tour of airfields in the east, and was suitably impressed by Tezpur. On his return to AHQ, Lal sent instructions to many station commanders to visit 11 Wing in order to emulate its practices.
Serviceability was high; Tezpur started flying ‘Balbos’ (putting as many aircraft as possible into the air in one mission);?! nine and twelve aircraft ‘Balbos’ flown by a single squadron were not uncommon, and indeed, on 22 November, twenty-two MiG-21s took off from Tezpur on a practice mission to Gauhati, with the station commander flying one of the aircraft. The aircraft flew to Gauhati and then back to Tezpur, landing in bad weather. Such a large formation of MiG-21s was a rare sight to behold.
THE GNATS The last type of combat aircraft present in significant numbers in the eastern front was the Folland Gnat. The IAF had eight Gnat squadrons in 1971, a significant jump from the five in 1965; three of these squadrons were based in the eastern sector.
The oldest Gnat unit in the east-24 Squadron ‘Hawks’ based at Tezpur—had re-equipped with the Gnat in 1966 and was commanded by Wing Commander Ravi Badhwar. As Tezpur sent its assets to forward airfields, the Gnats were slated to go to Kumbhirgram. A few aircraft were retained in Tezpur for ORP duties and handling Chinese threats.
Commanded by Wing Commander M.M. Singh, 15 Squadron (“Flying Lances’) was based at Bagdogra. The squadron had moved to Bagdogra in April 1969 and maintained a detachment in Hashimara for ORP duties.
Finally, 22 Squadron (“The Swifts), based with 5 Wing at Kalaikunda, bore responsibility for the air defence of the Calcutta sector. The squadron, raised post-1965 war, was equipped with

the HAL-built Gnat since its raising in October 1966 at Bareilly; it had been a part of 5 Wing at Kalaikunda since September 1968 and operated a detachment from Dum Dum airfield in Calcutta The unit was commanded by Wing Commander Brijpal Singh Sikand; his flight commanders were Squadron Leaders K.N.B. “Boondi Shankar and G.S.N. Prasad. The squadron had eighteen pilots: six from the same IAF Academy Pilots’ Course—the ninety-sixth.
The pilots of 22 Squadron expected the war to start in the middle of the year. In July, they began flying missions to escort aircraft flying out of Dacca and over Indian airspace. Tlieir detail was to take off from Kalaikunda, fly to Ranchi and then settle down to escort flights originating out of Pakistan towards Dacca; after the flight was escorted to Calcutta, the Gnats would return to Kalaikunda. This was done to ensure civilian aircraft originating from Pakistan would not be able to undertake clandestine reconnaissance sorties over sensitive airspace.
On 22 September, the squadron began operating a small threeaircraft detachment at Dum Dum civil airport. Two aircraft were placed on readiness; three pilots were posted to Dum Dum. Besides flying, the pilots spent most of their time playing Scrabble, card games, or heading to town to frequent its bars and clubs. Besides flying, the squadron operated from Dum Dum from 22 to 26 September, rotating its pilots on a regular basis to familiarize them with its flying sectors.
During October, the Dum Dum detachment was bolstered by two more aircraft enabling better serviceability so at least four aircraft could be flown when needed; the squadron started sending armed patrols of four aircraft along the border. A couple of hangars were taken over from Indian Airlines Corporation to house maintenance activities and some sand bag pens were built for the Gnats.
In November, as the squadron continued regular border patrols, reports of fighting on the ground became increasingly common Four Hunters from the co-located 14 Squadron were also moved to Dum Dum for familiarization and ORP duties. The Hunters
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were dedicated to ground attack and special missions and would operate out of Dum Dum during hostilities. After a brief stay, the Hunters moved back to Kalaikunda, but the Gnats remained at Dum Dum.
FIRST BLOOD OVER GARIBPUR (BOYRA) The sporadic fighting on the ground soon flared up in intensity in the ‘Boyra bulge’ area. Boyra was about fifty miles northeast of Calcutta where the international line jutted into East Pakistan. The international border was only eleven miles from the city of Jessore and this area provided an ingress point for Mukti Bahini and Indian Army operations.
On 12 November, 350th Infantry Brigade of 9 Division began operations making incursions toward Garibpur town, Chaugacha village, and Jessore city. The Brigade made considerable progress reaching the outskirts of Garibpur town. By 18 November, 42nd Infantry Brigade joined it in holding onto occupied territory.
The Pakistan Army responded by calling in airstrikes on 19 November. On 21 November, the Pakistan Army mounted a counterattack on the Indian incursion as ground troops supported by M-24 Chaffee tanks were launched against the Indian forward troops. Air support from the PAF was not too far behind. But the Sabres’ forays over Indian troops became predictable:
The PAF routinely strafed the area opposite 350 Brigade on a clockwork basis. One could set a watch for the first strike was around 9 a.m. followed by the second in the afternoon at about 3 p.m. Very rarely would there be a strike at around 12 noon, in which case the 3 p.m.strike would not take place. Two or four PAF aircraft would arrive over the area, carry out racecourse pattern circuits and dive and strafe in turn in an unhurried manner.2
On 21 November, four Gnats were scrambled from Dum Dum–in the morning but returned without encountering the PAE. A second scramble followed later in the evening. Once again the mission was abortive; the PAF Sabres had fled long before the Gnats showed up.
One of the pilots in the second scramble was Flying Officer P.K. Tayal who flew wearing his colleague P.M. Velankar’s G-suit. Velankar was a foot shorter than Tayal; unsurprisingly, Tayal found the smaller G-suit very uncomfortable. Tayal knew ferries from Kalaikunda would bring spares, supplies, and replacement pilots in the evening so he called Kalaikunda and spoke to his course-mate Don Lazarus, asking him to send his G-suit in an Otter headed for Dum Dum. Lazarus could not find Tayal’s G-suit and knowing there would be a detachment manned at Dum Dum over the next few days, elected to fly down to Dum Dum to take his place. A very reluctant Tayal gave up his place on the ORP to Don Lazarus and flew back to Kalaikunda in a replacement Gnat brought down by another course-mate of Tayal’s, Flying Officer Sunith ‘Sue Soares. The rest of the day petered out without further excitement. Little did Lazarus and Soares know what they had let themselves in for.
When dawn broke on 22 November 1971, 22 Squadron was on readiness at Dum Dum, expecting a scramble. Its pilots were not disappointed: at 8.00 a.m., the first scramble was sounded and four Gnats took off in quick succession. The formation was led by the CO, Wing Commander Sikand, with Flying Officer Don Lazarus as his No. 2, along with the second section pilots Flight Lieutenants Roy Massey and M.A. Ganapathy.
The PAF’s first strike of the day was mounted by four aircraft of 14 Squadron PAF from Tezgaon, led by Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain. They completed their mission, attacking Indian positions at Garibpur without any opposition. A ferry across the river near Garibpur was knocked out with some casualties on the ground. There was no contact made by the Gnats with the Sabres. Though the Gnats were directed by 254 Signal Unit at Barrackpore to fly over the Jessore area, the pilots found nothing and returned to Dum Dum.
The PAF followed up with a second mission at noon. The Sabres were again detected by the air defence control radar. The scramble was sounded at Dum Dum, and Wing Commander Sikand and the other three pilots took off again. This time, when
the Gnats reached the battle area, with the radar controller giving them directions, Flight Lieutenant Ganapathy spotted a Sabre in the misty skies and directed Sikand’s attention to the aircraft. However, there was no response from Sikand. Ganapathy tried raising the CO several times on the R/T but received no response.? Calls from the radar controller about the location of the Sabres also went unheeded.
On the ground, at the forward line of 4 Sikh Battalion, Flying Officer S.Y. Savur, the FAC, using his VHF radio set, desperately tried to direct the IAF Gnats to the PAF Sabres. But the Gnats carried on with no attempt at interception and the Sabres slipped away unchallenged. Frustration was now widespread among the ground troops. They had been subject to strafing by the Sabres, and seeing IAF fighters fly over without engaging the Sabres was galling. Some of the Sikh soldiers directed choice words about the IAF at a very embarrassed Savur.
Back at Dum Dum, Sikand’s reason for not noticing the Sabres came to light; he had not received any R/T calls from the No. 4 Ganapathy or the radar controller. A frustrated and angry Ganapathy had to be consoled by Massey.24 Sikand, having flown two missions in the day, then decided to take the afternoon off.25 The standby pilot, Flying Officer Soares took his place. The next scramble would be led by Massey with Soares as his No. 2 with the other section to be led by Ganapathy with Lazarus as his wingman.
THE BOYRA AIR BATTLE Back at Tezgaon, 14 Squadron PAF, probably believing their luck would hold, planned their last strike for the day. Four pilots were detailed: the CO, Wing Commander Afzal Chaudhary, would lead, with Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain as subsection leader and Flying Officer Sahibzada Sajjad Noor and Flying Officer Khalil Ahmed as wingmen to the formation and subsection leaders. Before the mission was launched, Dilawar was approached by Flight Lieutenant Parvez Mehdi Qureshi who complained he had not been given an opportunity to fly that day. Struck by the young
pilot’s bravado, Dilawar decided to stay back and Qureshi took his place.
The PAF formation took off approximately at 2.20 p.m. IST. Soon after take-off, the No. 2 Flying Officer Sajjad Noor turned back due to R/T problems. The remaining three aircraft proceeded to Boyra.
Back at Dum Dum, having finished their lunch, 22 Squadron’s pilots were relaxing at the makeshift ORP, as Soares, hoping for more action, pitted his Scrabble skills against Lazarus. A few minutes short of 2.40 p.m., the klaxon went off at Dum Dum. Opportunity had knocked a third time for 22 Squadron.
The pilots on the ORP lost no time in sprinting to their aircraft. In the earlier scrambles, though the pilots were in the cockpit and started up, they had to wait for the older Sikand to climb into his cockpit with the help of a ladder. But cockpit entry was a snappy affair this time around as the four tyros leaped in and strapped up. Crucial seconds were saved as the pilots started their aircraft, and were off in pairs: Massey and Soares leading and followed by Ganapathy and Lazarus.26
Once in the air, there was no radio communication between the pilots. Massey had done his homework. He had deduced part of the reason the Gnat formation missed intercepting the Sabres in the morning was that their leader did not fly at full throttle but slightly below max speed. Taking no chances, Massey had his throttle lever fully forward. As the other pilots followed his lead, the formation belted towards the border at the maximum possible 450 knots (517 mph) airspeed at a low altitude of 1,000 feet.
The battle area near Garibpur was roughly fifty miles-an cight-to-nine-minute flight-northeast of Dum Dum airfield. Due to production and maintenance variations the aircraft could not keep station with each other. Soares saw his aircraft slowly lag behind Massey’s, but he was able to keep station slightly to the left and below Massey’s aircraft, keeping him in sight. There was little R/T communication between the formation members. At low altitude, the cockpit noise due to the wind and proximity to the ground was deafening. The radar controller, Flying Officer
K.B. Bagchi continued giving them directions over the R/T, but it was difficult to hear him clearly,
Roughly three kilometres from Garibpur, Massey climbed to an altitude of 3,000 feet and the rest of the formation followed. The rush of the wind against the cockpit and the noise outside seemed to subside as the Gnats gained altitude and slightly reduced speed. Once in the battle area the formation was informed by the radar controller that PAF aircraft would be six kilometres ahead at two o’clock. The pilots began scanning the skies.
The PAF Sabres had loitered over the battle area for a while. Aided by smoke shells from the Pakistani ground troops, Wing Commander Chaudhary carried out an attack on a tank formation on the ground. After finishing the attack, the formation was ordered to do a recce over the battle area for more ground targets. During the recce, Chaudhary found himself being targeted by AA near Chaugacha and decided to attack the battery.
The first to spot the Sabre was Soares, who was in fact the farthest from them. Massey and Ganapathy were flying a kilometre and half abreast in fighting position, with Soares to the left of Massey, and Lazarus keeping station to the right of Ganapathy, ensuring each wingman was in fighting position relative to his leader.

A glint of metal caught Soares’ attention; he soon identified it as a Sabre, about to commence a dive from 4,000 feet. The aircraft was at two o’clock to the formation and closer to Ganapathy’s section. Soares called ‘Contact and then, “Gana, Donny! Aircraft to the right at four thousand’. However, Ganapathy could not spot the Sabre; he remained at station with Lazarus.
Soares once again called out on the R/T: ‘Aircraft at two o’clock; moving to one o’clock three kilometres ahead.’ Ganapathy still could not see the Sabre but Massey could, and pulling up his Gnat, banked to the right, flying over Ganapathy and Lazarus; Soares followed Massey through the manoeuvre. As Massey climbed and turned to the right, Ganapathy and Lazarus slid their aircraft to the left and below to give them room and then immediately reversed to the right to keep the first section in sight.
The manoeuvre bought Massey and Soares closer to the diving Sabre on the right; Massey reversed his turn to land directly on the tail of the Sabre. Meanwhile, Massey reported the contact with Bagchi and got clearance to shoot.
Massey levelled out 1,500 yards behind the Sabre with Soares following 400 yards behind, keeping his tail clear. As Massey closed in to about 1,200 yards, the Sabre ahead suddenly broke right in a tight turn. Massey and Soares kept up with the turn; their quarry remained in sight. During the 9.5G turn, the Sabre’s speed bled off a little enabling Massey to close to 800 yards. Massey had the Sabre in his gun sight and fired his first burst with his cannon. As his tracers converged on the Sabre, Soares stared in awe. Used to employing practice ball ammunition, this was the first time he was seeing 30 mm HE (high explosive) ammunition being used in conjunction with tracer. The tracers passed close to the Sabre…and missed.
Meanwhile, the subsection leader, Ganapathy, called over the R/T, ‘I have spotted an aircraft, going behind him.’ Unknown to Massey and Soares, a second Sabre had come up from below and was trying to position itself behind the first formation of Gnats. Perched slightly above to the rear, Ganapathy and Lazarus were ideally engaged to take the second aircraft on. The second Sabre pilot seemed unaware of the presence of the additional Gnats.
Ganapathy announced he was in contact with the Sabre, made a hard turn to the right and reversed to the left to position himself behind the Sabre. Lazarus followed Ganapathy, but during the right and left turns, lagged behind as the gap between Ganapathy and himself increased to 600 yards. As Lazarus turned left to
position himself behind his leader he saw another Sabre ahead right behind Ganapathy.
This Sabre was in front of Lazarus, hardly 150 yards away. Lazarus’ first thought was the Sabre Ganapathy was following had somehow turned the tables on them and doubled back but Lazarus quickly realized this was a third aircraft. Ganapathy was still pursuing his target ahead. The third Sabre did not pose a threat to Ganapathy; its pilot was flying to the right and away from the fight, almost as if fleeing the battle.
Flying at 350 knots, Lazarus quickly pointed his aircraft to the right onto the tail of the third Sabre. As the enemy aircraft filled his gunsight, he opened fire at 150 yards.?? It was a short burst; barely twelve rounds left the Gnat’s cannon before the Sabre began emitting fames. Scarcely had Lazarus called on the R/T-I got him! I got him!’-than the Sabre exploded in the path of the Gnat. The explosion was so close to Lazarus’ path that chunks of debris from the explosion struck his Gnat, damaging the nose cone and drop tanks. The Gnat immediately started streaming fuel.
Meanwhile, Ganapathy, who was following the second Sabre, fired a burst closing in on the Sabre from the left. Ganapathy broke off, pulled up and then rolled back into the attack for a second burst and was treated to the gratifying sight of the PAF pilot ejecting. He had fired fifty-seven rounds at his target. As he turned away, Ganapathy scanned the skies and seeing an aircraft streaming fuel at a distance reported this sighting on the R/T. Lazarus responded; it was his aircraft and the drop tank was damaged. Lazarus levelled his wings and jettisoned the drop tanks. The aircraft was responding normally so Lazarus joined up with a triumphant Ganapathy to set course for Dum Dum.
Meanwhile, Massey and Soares turned in for their second attack on the first Sabre. Massey took a second burst and found his starboard cannon had jammed. But Massey’s third burst landed squarely on the port wing and fuselage of the Sabre. Streaming smoke, the Sabre’s speed fell as both Gnats overshot it. The Gnats and the Sabre had descended to a dangerously low level, below 1,000 feet in altitude. Soares saw the canopy separating as the PAF pilot ejected, even as the Sabre continued to emit smoke profusely. Satisfied by the kill, Massey pulled up, calling out ‘Murder, murder, murder on the R/T. Both pilots turned west towards the Indian border. During this engagement, Massey had fired eighty cannon rounds at the Sabre.
As Soares realized they had retained their drop tanks through the combat he saw black puffs of smoke opening up around their aircraft. They were being fired at by AA guns; since no enemy guns were in the area, it had to be Indian AA.
A tense Barrackpore SU crackled to life on the R/T, curious about the course of the air battle. The pilots quickly cominunicated the details of the battle. Bagchi then gave the formation bearings for the flight back to Calcutta.
Lazarus and Ganapathy were the first to reach Dum Dum. Lazarus landed his battle-damaged aircraft first. An ebullient Ganapathy dove down, levelled out over the airfield, pulled up the nose and carried out a series of celebratory victory rolls before turning to land. He was followed by Massey and Soares.
The air combat had lasted less than two minutes, the mission had lasted eighteen minutes from take-off to landing. The pilots were greeted by an exultant group of officers and technicians on the ground. It was time for writing combat reports and swapping stories.
News of the capture of two PAF pilots by Indian troops was received later in the day. The PAF pilots, Flying Officer Parvez Mehdi Qureshi and Khalil Ahmed, had both ejected in the same area they had been strafing. Both came down by parachute in the forward area where 4 Sikh was deployed. Some soldiers started firing at the descending parachutes but the FAC Flying Officer S.Y. Savur put an end to it immediately.
As one of the Pakistani pilots landed near the trenches of the forward lines, another officer of 4 Sikh, Captain H.S. Panag, rushed forward; he knew his jawans were incensed at being strafed earlier that day and would take out their anger on the downed pilot. Sure enough, he found the burly Sikhs had knocked down Flight Lieutenant Parvez Mehdi Qureshi and were hitting him with their rifle butts. Panag ordered them to stop and shielded Qureshi. Once the soldiers calmed down, Qureshi was marched down to the Battalion HQ. His survival kit, including his pistol and ammunition, were taken away from him and he was quickly interrogated by Panag. Qureshi told Panag he was not aware he was shot down by a Gnat, but thought he had been hit by AA fire as he was pulling up from an attack. Panag then explained that an IAF Gnat had shot down Qureshi’s Sabre as he was pulling up in a climb. Qureshi was joined by his compatriot, Flying Officer Khalil Ahmed, who too, had been captured by Indian troops. Both PAF pilots were soon shipped off to 9 Division’s HQ. The air battle ensured the soldiers of 4 Sikh Battalion now regarded the IAF with some respect and Flying Officer Savur, the FAC, was now not looked down on with scorn by the troops’.29
News of the air combat took little over a day to hit the airwaves

and newspapers published the story on 24 November. By this time the 22 Squadron detachment had withdrawn to Kalaikunda in case the PAF carried out retaliatory raids. Two days later, the detachment returned to Dum Dum.
The Gnat pilots were now heroes and mobbed wherever they travelled in Calcutta. At a time when alcohol was strictly rationed, the three heroes found themselves besieged with bottles of whisky. An amused Air Chief Marshal Lal who visited Dum Dum to congratulate aircrews noted that, ‘It seemed as though we had won the air war even before the actual war had started!
The Defence Minister Babu Jagjivan Ram visited Dum Dum with the AOC-in-C Air Marshal H.C. Dewan to congratulate the CO, the four pilots and the fighter controller Flying Officer K.B. Bagchi. More interestingly, Dewan brought bottles of Scotch for the pilots and ground crew. After the ceremonies the Gnat detachment flew back to Kalaikunda the next morning.
PAKISTANI VERSION PAF accounts of the air battle claimed the Sabres were outnumbered by cight to ten Gnats. A Pakistani spokesman would also claim the Sabres shot down two Gnats. This was later changed to one Gnat in the PAF’s official literature. The opposition that the three Sabres faced was put at eight Gnats in one account, and a combination of eight Gnats and MiGs in another.
The lone pilot who made it back to Dacca, Wing Commander Chaudhary, was awarded a Gnat ‘kill’.2 Chaudhary claimed he finished his attack on the AA gun when his wingman Khalil Ahmed reported there were two Gnats behind them. Chaudhary broke right and threw the two Gnats off his tail, chased them to the Indian border and got on the tail of one. While about to fire, Ahmed warned him there were eight Gnats behind him. Chaudhary told Khalil to shake off the Gnats and head for Dacca. As soon as Chaudhary broke off and turned right, he noticed a Sabre crashing and a pilot descending by parachute. Chaudhary assumed this to be the No. 3 Qureshi. By then he had lost radio contact with Khalil Ahmed as well:33
I stayed in the area for a couple of minutes but I saw neither any Indian aircraft nor own aircraft. This combat took place between three PAF Sabres, and ten IAF Gnats in an area where the Indians had the advantage of operating within their radar cover; therefore they sneaked in at low level and managed to surprise us.
The only correct assertion in Chaudhary’s account is that the Gnats enjoyed radar coverage; other details remain fanciful, perhaps motivated by the need to cover up the loss of his wingmen. Three Sabres fought four Gnats and at no point were any of the Gnats threatened. A crucial detail missing from Chaudhary’s 2007 account was his much-publicized claim of firing at, and damaging and shooting down, one of the Gnats.” None of the IAF Gnats suffered any gunfire damage.
Chaudhary’s claim of shooting down the Gnat was cause for much derision in his squadron. Chaudhary’s air combat film was analysed in great detail by the squadron pilots; there was not even a bird’ in the film.
There are some details missing from the extant accounts of the Boyra air battle. For instance, who shot down whom? One assumption was that Massey mistakenly claimed Chaudhary, who escaped, but Soares claims he saw the canopy and the ejection seat separate. Lazarus’ target certainly exploded and blew up, damaging his aircraft. Lazarus in turn confirms that Ganapathy’s quarry ejected. Going by Lieutenant General Panag’s account of the capture of Qureshi, as well as some reconstruction done by the Gnat pilots themselves, Qureshi is credited to Don Lazarus.
THE FINAL PREPARATIONS The very next day, 23 November, a National Emergency was declared by Pakistan. On 25 November, Yahya Khan issued a statement from Rawalpindi: ‘In ten days, I may be off fighting a war.’ There was little doubt war would break out soon. The day after the Boyra incident, a special commanders’ conference was held in New Delhi, where the commanders of the three armed
services presented their operational plans to the Chiefs of Staff. These plans were examined closely with the defence minister and the defence secretary in attendance.
While war loomed, predicting its commencement was another matter. But the IAF could rely on radio intercepts and deciphered messages to aid them in such prediction. The signal intelligence units had limited success with the Pakistan army code, but they did succeed in breaking the Pakistani naval code. When a message from the Pakistani Navy submarine Gbazi stating it had entered the Bay of Bengal was intercepted, it was correctly deduced war was imminent. Similarly a message from Pakistan Navy HQ to East Pakistan advised Pakistani merchant shipping not to travel to the Bay of Bengal. This message was intercepted on 1 December Finally, a message to civilian aircraft warning them not to fly near the Indian border left no doubts about when war would arrivejust over forty-eight hours later.
COMILLA RECCE Just after noon on 30 November, Wing Commander S.K. Kaul at Hashimara received a phone call summoning him to the EAC HQ at Shillong for a meeting with the AOC-in-C, Air Marshal Dewan, who had been in Calcutta conferring with Lieutenant General J.S. Aurora.
Kaul flew to Gauhati, from where a Mi-4 from 111 HU flew him to the EAC HQ at Shillong. It was 4 p.m., but night was already falling. Kaul was quickly briefed: hostilities were expected to break out soon, and the Indian Army’s IV Corps, then based near Agartala, had requested additional imagery of Comilla Heights, one of the primary axes of ingress into East Pakistan. The IV Corps had decided to infiltrate some troops into East Pakistan on the night of 1 December.
The army had received information about artillery guns positioned and dug in on the road from east Agartala. Kaul’s photographs would be developed, interpreted, and dropped at the Advance HQ at Teliamura, north of Agartala. The 57 Mountain Division led by Major General B.F. Gonsalves would be attacking along this axis and these photographs would help finalize their plans. There was little time in hand: the sortie had to be mounted at first light the next day and the photographs were to be developed and interpreted and sent to the Corps HQ within the day.
With insufficient time for Kaul to return to Hashimara and then fly this mission, he called Hashimara and instructed his No. 2 from the previous FR missions, Flying Officer Harish Masand, to detail another pilot and fly down two camera-equipped Hunters to Gauhati, where Kaul would meet them. Masand agreed to a meeting time of 8.30 p.m.
However, the weather put a spanner in Kaul’s plan. As clouds had closed in on the mountains, the helicopter flight was scrubbed and Kaul had to travel the fifty miles back to Gauhati in a Jonga. Poor lighting on a winding road with a blackout in progress meant slow navigation by moonlight. It took five hours for Kaul to reach Gauhati, well past 1 a.m. on 1 December.
Kaul was received by the station commander, Group Captain Mankotia, who had prepared the base’s facilities for the Hunters. After a quick bite, Kaul discussed plans with Masand. The Comilla Heights are only 170 miles from Gauhati, but with war not yet declared, Kaul and Masand would have to do most of their flying over Indian territory. Their flight path would take them in a south-easterly direction to Kumbhirgram near Silchar and then southwest, flying parallel to the Tripura state border. Though the PAF had not been active for a while, a flight of Gnats from Tezpur would mount combat air patrols in case they were needed. Since the Hunters would fly at low level at all times, they would not have enough fuel to return to Gauhati. A landing at Kumbhirgram on the return leg was essential to refuel the aircraft.
Kaul left Masand to plan the sortie and prepare maps for navigation over uncharted and featureless terrain covered by thick forests. The constant pressure from EAC concerning the sortie, though, did not make his task any casier.
Kaul and Masand took off just before dawn with the sun still below the horizon. Navigating at low level south of Kumbhirgram was a challenge. The existent maps of the hill tracts south of
eastern Tripura were notoriously inaccurate, as that region had not been accurately surveyed for years. In many places the maps simply had blank areas with ‘Uncharted’ written on them. It was also a densely forested area with scarcely any human habitation to be detected. Kaul was on the lookout for a railway station across the border, which would serve as a waypoint. Once the pilots flew a predetermined heading from the railway station, they would be at the recce point. Kaul was gratified to arrive at the railway station right on time, especially as the navigation was done with just a map and watch. Both pilots then flew on their planned heading, and turned westward after a fixed amount of time to arrive accurately over Comilla to carry out their recce run. Kaul was relieved; if they had missed the railway station, they would have had to climb to search and exposed themselves to Pakistani radar and defences.
After carrying out their recce run, both pilots headed for Kumbhirgram. Earlier, Kaul had instructed select members of the photo development team from Hashimara to be flown to Kumbhirgram in an Otter. This team was waiting for their aircraft to land and set to work developing the film and drying the negatives. Kaul and Masand deciphered the negatives, and made their selections. Working with their audiotapes, they marked out coordinates on maps and annotated headings on their photographs. Their mission had netted over 800 prints. It took the rest of the day and a greater part of the night to complete the task, finally finishing up at 2 a.m. On 2 December, a waiting Otter took off with the photographs from Kumbhirgram and dropped them off at the IV Corps HQ at Teliamura. Their mission complete, the pilots and crew rested and then flew back to Hashimara via Gauhati, satisfied their exacting training had come to fruition when it mattered.
THE MOBILIZATION OF THE KILO FLIGHT Further signs that the IAF sensed an outbreak of armed hostilities was inevitable can be deduced from events that transpired at Dimapur on 1 December. Early that morning, a C-47 Dakota
came in to land from Jorhat, battling the morning mist. The aircrew had instructions to ferry the pilots of the Kilo Flightmaps and charts in tow-to Jorhat. Their anticipation growing, the Bengali pilots enthusiastically boarded the Dakota.
The station commander, Group Captain Chandan Singh, was awaiting the arrival of the Dakota. Intrigued, the Bengali pilots, led by Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed, followed him to the operations room. The pilots saw the marked maps on the walls with flags and pins and surmised action was at hand. Addressing the gathering, Chandan Singh started, ‘Gentlemen, your longawaited day has arrived.
Flight Lieutenant Shamsul Alam noticed a soft murmur run through the attending pilots. ‘Don’t get too excited,’ Chandan Singh continued, ‘we have intelligence the Pakistanis will start the war in the next two days. On the very night it starts, you will proceed to your mission. We have decided you, the Kilo Flight, will start the war on the eastern front.’
Chandan Singh went on to describe the targets—fuel dumps at Chittagong and Narayanganj-the Kilo Flight would attack. The missions would be flown by night, thus providing some cover and protection against ground-based AA. Chandan Singh closed the briefing with the following words: ‘A little courage will see you through your mission successfully. Your mission will be known as Operation Kilo.’
It was a brilliant rhetorical move to give the nascent Kilo Flight the symbolic privilege of flying the first missions over East Pakistan. Though the aircraft fielded by the Kilo Flight-an Otter and an Alouette helicopter-were only a token force, by ensuring Bengali pilots took the first shot, the IAF let them take the credit for opening the air war over East Pakistan and made sure the war remained identified with the Bangladeshi cause.
PAF STRIKES ON AKHAURA The urgency in IV Corps’ requests for updates on information regarding Pakistan army defences had a simple explanation: unbeknownst to Kaul and Masand, IV Corps’ divisions had

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already started their offensive against Pakistani positions in the Tripura sector the previous day.
One area where Indian troops supporting the Mukti Bahini and the BSF had penetrated was near the town of Akhaura, just across the border from the Agartala airfield in Tripura and north of Comilla. Indian troops from the 311 Brigade under 57 Mountain Division had started infiltrating the border towards Akhaura on the night of 1 December. These included elements of 18 Rajput, 4 Guards and PT-76 tanks of 5 Independent Squadron, 63 Cavalry.
On 2 December at 12.15 p.m., the troops of 18 Rajput were trying to negotiate a nullah (rivulet) with their anti-tank recoilless (RCL) guns and tanks from the Independent Squadron, when a flight of three PAF Sabres swooped down on them. The Sabres tore into the lucrative targets, strafing them at will. Two Rajput jawans were killed and another ten from the RCL detachment were wounded.’ The PT-76 tanks escaped the havoc. This was the first appearance of the Sabres after the Garibpur battle. Another strike of a four-aircraft mission followed, as the troops of the 18 Rajput came under attack again. Lieutenant Colonel Ashok Kalyan Verma, the CO of 18 Rajput, later wrote:
A second sortie by four F-86 Sabre jets strafed along the alignment of the railway line from south to north raking the area with their guns. Air attacks are the most unnerving with the extremely high rate of fire of the guns sounding like tearing thick fabric. I recollect ducking in my foxhole for dear life during the raid, raising my head as the attacking aircraft receded, when everything turned a bright green from above with a thump. It was only a clump of soft-stemmed banana trees which had been cut down by the attacking aircraft which had covered the foxhole with broad leaves.40
Unlike the first raid, the second raid caused little damage. Akhaura was an ideal area for the PAF to re-engage the Indian Army after the disaster of 22 November. The nearest IAF fighters were the MiGs at Gauhati and the two Hunters of 37 Squadron
at Kumbhirgram that undertook the morning recce. Both these locations were more than 130 miles from the raids and in no position to intercept the Pakistani aircraft even if they had been detected in advance.
The air attacks were reported as an attack on Agartala airfield by All India Radio the next day. The PAF denied Agartala was ever the target and insisted, correctly, that it had attacked Indian troops near Akhaura.!
The detachment of 221 Squadron based in Panagarh was also called upon to carry out photo recce missions over Jessore and the Hilli sectors. Eight sorties were carried out on 2 and 3 December by the squadron pilots; these included the CO Wing Commander Sridharan and his flight commander O.N. Wadhwan. Their work went some way towards helping the offensive plans of Il Corps and XXXIII Corps.
THE PAF’S PRE-EMPTIVE ATTACKS IN THE WEST On the evening of 3 December 1971, the piercing notes of air raid sirens signalled the ‘official’ start of the third Indo-Pakistan war. At approximately 5.30 p.m. IST, the PAF launched raids on IAF airbases and radar installations along the entire western border: Amritsar, Pathankot, Srinagar, Halwara, Faridkot, Agra, and the radar unit at Barnala. The attacks were launched at dusk and went on through the night.
The Indian Prime Minister, Mrs Indira Gandhi, was then in Calcutta. She immediately returned to New Delhi and held a meeting with the Defence Minister, Babu Jagjivan Ram, who arrived from Patna the same evening. They were informed the TAF was already undertaking retaliatory strikes. The same news was reported to the Cabinet
In the eastern sector, no pre-emptive action was taken by the PAF in coordination with the western wing. Indeed, the army and air force in East Pakistan might have had no intimation of the outbreak of full-scale hostilities on the evening of 3 December as the Pakistani higher command in the west might have unilaterally decided on these pre-emptive attacks on IAF installations. The PAF establishment in the east was informed of the strikes by a short, cryptic message delivered at 6.05 p.m. IST: ‘As of this evening Pakistan is at full-scale war with India. Phase Three is declared with immediate effect.’ There was however one indication the war was about to break out. Three hours before the pre-emptive strikes in the west, a PIA Boeing 707 flying off the coast near Madras en route to Dacca was ordered to turn around and return to Karachi. The message to the aircraft’s captain was routed through Indian air traffic control. When the PIA chief in Dacca heard of this, he sought out Air Commodore Inamul-Haq and suggested the Boeing had been ordered to fly back because war was to break out in a few hours. He then was not too surprised to get the signal from the west. Still, many in the Pakistan Army Eastern Cominand only heard the news over the p.m. news broadcast on Dacca TV.43
STATION COMMANDERS’ CONFERENCE News of the PAF strikes in the west was communicated almost immediately to EAC HQ (at approximately 6 p.m.). The station commanders were called to Shillong to attend a meeting on the same night. Each station commander was briefed on his tasks and objectives for the oncoming operations. EAC’s task was simple: destroy or denude the air assets of the PAF in the eastern sector. Put another way, the F-86 Sabres at Tezgaon had to be destroyed on the ground or in air combat.
At EAC’s HQ, Air Vice-Marshal Devasher called for suggestions on the optimum time for attacks on Dacca the next day. This resulted in a heated discussion. Squadron Leader Murdeshwar from the planning staff suggested IAF fighter bombers should mount the attack late in the day, perhaps towards the afternoon, as the PAF would be ready on the ORP or waiting for the incoming bombers at dawn. But waiting to attack too late risked passing on the initiative to the PAF, who might be sufficiently emboldened to fly support missions for the Pakistan Army. Perhaps with this worry in mind, most station commanders rejected the idea of a late attack, opting instead for early raids the next day.

Group Captain Mally Wollen, who had flown into Shillong from Gauhati a few hours later, was met by the SASO, AVM Devasher. When asked by Devasher what time he would like to attack, Wollen replied that ideally he would like to attack as soon as possible, perhaps during the night itself. However, Devasher ruled out that possibility. Central Air Command had already informed EAC that Canberras from 16 Squadron would be raiding Dacca that night. Furthermore, not only were the MiG-21s new to night bombing in combat, but preparing and arming them would take a while. An early dawn attack was also ruled out; the eastern Nector’s heavy morning mist would make for very difficult flying conditions. The attacks would have to be mounted around 7 a.m., a time slot that would afford the attackers reasonable visibility in order to identify their targets. It was finally decided the first attacks on Dacca would take place at 7.05 a.m. Devasher left the staff to work out the details of the campaign for the next day.
THE PREPARATIONS Throughout the night, personnel at the IAF’s bases were busy preparing their aircraft for the daylight missions planned for the next day. A number of squadrons had to move from rear airfields to the forward airbases.
14 Squadron- ‘The Bulls’-operating from Kalaikunda, were notified on the evening of 2 December to prepare to move to Dum Dum the next day. The squadron pilots made their preparations through the night, securing maps, Mae Wests, and first-aid kits. IAF pilots had been issued personal side-arms, ammunition, and ‘blood chita Mukti Bahini flag with a crude map of East Pakistan against a red circular background superimposed on a green Hag-to convey their friendly status should they suffer the misfortune of ejecting over hostile territory.
On the afternoon of 3 December, at 2.15 p.m., the first four of twelve Hunters took off for Dum Dum, with the CO Wing Commander R. Sundaresan leading. These were followed at fifteen-minute intervals by the two remaining formations. The pilot’s luggage’ was to arrive by an Otter, which took its own
time. The pilots were disappointed to find nothing but two tents as ‘accommodation’, but Wing Commander Sundaresan made arrangements for the pilots to retire to the civilian lounge. The exhausted pilots flopped down, still clad in their G-suits, on any chairs they could find. News of the PAF attacks in the west came in at 7 p.m.
Someone switched on the radio at midnight to hear the Indian prime minister’s speech; meanwhile, the squadron’s technical staff continued maintenance-loading guns, fixing the drop tanks–on the aircraft.
Like 14 Squadron, 221 Squadron’s remaining aircraft were moved on the afternoon of 3 December, from Bareilly to Panagarh. Eight aircraft were flown into Panagarh, led by Squadron Leader Bhutani, to join the four-aircraft detachment based there. This brought the number of available Sukhois to twelve.
To the east, at Dimapur airfield, ex-PAF Bengali aircrew of the Kilo Flight began washing and cleaning the lone Otter. The technicians carried out all the relevant checks. Flight Lieutenant Shamsul Alam, joined by Captain Akram and two Bengali airmen, boarded the aircraft and took off for Kailashahar airfield. Later in the evening, after the PAFattacks in the west, the Kilo Flight CO Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed flew his Alouette to Teliamura near Agartala. Both aircraft had been assigned targets; the crews had gone over their flight plans and the photographic intelligence several times.
Elsewhere, news of the outbreak of war was communicated to all operational units in Eastern Command around 5.30p.m. Group Captain Mally Wollen passed on the news to the two squadrons at Tezpur, Nos. 28 and 4 operating MiG-21s, and directed them to move to Gauhati airfield, eighty-five miles southwest, by 10 p.m. Shortly thereafter, Wollen left for the station commanders’ meeting at Shillong in a Chetak, leaving it to the COs to organize the move to Gauhati. Within four hours, the squadrons worked feverishly to service and launch aircraft for Tezpur. Spares, ground equipment for servicing, and bomb racks were to be flown or transported by ground. Each squadron left behind six aircraft at

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Tezpur as reserves in case the Chinese decided to join the fighting; the remaining eleven were to be flown to Gauhati that night. Wing Commander Bishnoi, who led the first formation from his squadron, landed to find the base commander at Gauhati, Group Captain Vijay Mankotia, ready at the tarmac to receive them. Mankotia led the COs to the underground operations rooms and briefed them on the arrangements for the aircraft and pilots.
The curtain would shortly be raised on the fiercest air battles fought over the skies of Bengal.
NOTES 1. Bhargava (Retd), Group Captain Kapil, ‘Anglo-Indians in the
Indian Air Force’, Bharat-Rakshak.com http://www.bharat-rakshak.
com/IAF/History/1950s/Anglos.html 2. In 1971, the Command HQs had an Air Marshal as the C-in-C,
an Air Vice-Marshal as the SASO, and an Air Commodore as the Air-1. The SASO as head of Air Staff is responsible for maintaining operational preparedness of establishments under this Command at the highest level. He is responsible for conduct of all air operations undertaken by the Command and reports to the C-in-C. The Air-1 is the second most senior Air Staff officer after the SASO of a Command. The Air-I’s duties are described as “All fighter ops and its associated activity comes under Air-1, working directly under SASO, his primary functions are to control and direct the training and operational preparedness of Ground Attack Squadrons and Air Defence Squadrons. Lal, Pratap Chandra, Air Chief Marshal, My Years with the IAF, Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1985. The Air Defence regiments were active in the days leading up to the war. As the PAF had been using their Sabres in supporting ground operations, several gun detachments were moved to forward positions to provide cover to Indian troops. Various claims were made by these gun detachments against the PAF. In particular, an F-86 Sabre was claimed by ‘C’ troop of 178 Regiment at Belonia on 10 November and another Sabre was claimed shot down on an unspecified date at the Bayra Bridge (Jessore Sector) by the 48 AD Regiment. However, these claims cannot be reconciled via Pakistani records or other Indian sources; the aircraft might have
been damaged and escaped by diving to low level. The information was provided in the book God of War – Official History of the Regiment of Artillery, a restricted publication that was not distributed commercially. Bewoor, Anant (Group Captain) Flying over East Pakistan, Bharatrakshak.com (http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/ 1971 War/Bewoor.html) Louis J. Smith, ‘Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969– 1976, Volume XI, South Asia Crisis, 1971, Document 45.’ Office of the Historian, United States Government. 2005. http://static.history, state.gov/frus/frus 1969-76v11/pdf/frus1969-76v11.pdf (accessed
12.01.2012). 8. Correspondence with Wing Commander Gautam Guha.
A unique feature of Hashimara was that it was home to two commanding officers at the opposite extreme of the age spectrum. While Chatrath of 17 Squadron was the oldest fighter CO in the IAF at forty-four years, Kaul was the youngest at thirty-five years. Oblique photography from higher altitude has less value due to the distance from the camera to the ground. Conditions on the ground like haze, dust, etc., multiply exponentially for oblique photographs taken from higher altitude. None of the Canberras of the SR
Squadron had any oblique cameras fitted. 11. A modified version of the Trainer Mk.55. 12. Interview with Kaul. 13. Details added by pilots include the direction of flight, altitude,
and approximate location to help correlate the photographs with
existing maps. 14. List of missions flown 4 November 1971: Hilli area and new
airfield at Saidpur; 16 November 1971: railway station, ferry & dug in gun positions at Jamalpur and Sherpur; 18 November 1971: Bunkers, dug in troops and vehicles at Dinajpur and Sahibguni; 22 November 1971: Bunkers and dug in troops at Bharungmari;
December 1971: Sylhet area. 15. IAF stations were organized into a four-tier structure. At the top were
‘Wings’ which were large air bases with lodger units, squadrons that were based and operated from the airfield. Next to the Wings was the ‘Forward Base Support Unit’ or FBSU. FBSUs were airfields with no attached squadrons. Typically they would play host to squadron detachments that were temporarily dispatched to them for the
duration of operations. Below the FBSU are Care and Maintenance Units (CMUS) and Mobile Echelon Maintenance Units (MEMUS). Both these designations were used for temporary establishments:
airfields that operated under the IAF on a temporary basis. 16. As told to K. Sree Kumar (Interviewed 2009). 17. Flown in by Wing Commander A. Sridharan, Squadron Leader
O.N. Wadhwan, Flight Lieutenant H.V. Khatu and Flight
Lieutenant Joshi. 18. Lo-lo-hi as a flight pattern meant that the aircraft would adapt a low level flight profile after take-off, enter hostile territory and
climb to higher altitude right before approaching the target. 19. This encounter, narrated in The India-Pakistan Air War of 1965,
by P.V.S Jagan Mohan and Samir Chopra, ended with Wollen expending both his missiles and was thus left with no attacking
options when on the tail of a Sabre. 20. S.V. Ratnaparki, D.D.S. Kumar, Ashley Rodrigues, S. Tyagi and
P.K. Gandhi were the pilots. 21. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balbo 22. Savur, S.Y., Air Marshal, ‘The flight of my life’ (Unpublished
memoirs) (www.sysavur.com\196973 inthefareast.html) 23. Interview with Group Captain M.R. Murdeshwar and Wing
Commander S.F. Soares. 24. Very shortly after this sortie, Massey called up Murdeshwar and
requested him to talk to Ganapathy to cool him down’. 25. Wing Commander S.E Soares, ‘The Battle of Boyra’, Indian
Aviation, OND 2006 issue. 26. The Gnat was the only aircraft in service small and low enough to
allow an athletic pilot to haul himself over the side of the cockpit without the aid of any ladder. In Lazarus’ own words-‘It must have been 100-150 metres from him. Very close. We are supposed to break off by 300m. We were prohibited anywhere before 3,200m. When we attack, we start
firing at 600m, come close to 300m and break off. 28. Lt Gen. Panag’s blog at http://rwac48.wordpress.com/2012/11/23/
pow-future-pas-chief-22-nov-717. Panag would write “His conduct despite the shock of being shot down and taken POW was
dignified!’ 29. Savur didn’t know it at that time, but both Soares and Lazarus were
his course-mates.

30. Pakistan Observer, 24 November 1971; Dawn, 2 December 1971. 31. Khan, Fazal Muqeem, Pakistan’s Crisis in Leadership, Islamabad:
National Book Foundation, 1973. 32. The very first detailed account was from the PAF’s official history
in 1988 based on Chaudhary’s account. A more detailed and comprehensive account appeared in the PAF’s official history of No. 14 Squadron Legend of the Tail Choppers – 50 Years of Excellence
1948-1998 (compiled by Air Commodore Khalil Ahmed). 33. Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Tail Choppers – 50 Years of Excellence
1948-1998, PAF Book Club, 2007. 34. Initial Indian accounts were also inaccurate in terms of describing
the battle. This account was reproduced in Air Chief Marshal P.C. Lal’s My Years with the IAF and Pushpindar Singh’s Himalayan Eagles. The first reasonably correct description was provided in the Gnat 50 Years Commemoration Book Gnat Sabre Slayer. Indian claims that also insisted that there were four Sabres were based on
the known SOP of the PAF that they operated in fours. 35. Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Tail Choppers – 50 Years of Excellence
1948-1998, PAF Book Club, 2007. 36. A combat report by Chaudhary was filed with the PAF establishment
at Dacca. Subsequently a copy of this report was ‘rescued’ as a war souvenir by a visiting IAF Caribou pilot after the surrender but was
lost in the years gone by. 37. Haider, Sajjad, Air Commodore, Flight of the Falcon, Vanguard
Books, Pakistan, 2009. 38. In 1996, Parvez Mehdi Qureshi was appointed Chief of Air Staff
of the Pakistan Air Force. Not many people recognized Qureshi as the same pilot who was a ‘guest’ of India after the Boyra air battle. When the news was reported in India, Donald Lazarus wrote a letter congratulating Qureshi for his achievement in becoming CAS and mentioned that Qureshi may not recall his earlier meeting with Lazarus in the air. Lazarus did not expect a reply to the letter, but to his surprise a staff officer for Qureshi wrote a reply acknowledging receipt of the letter and thanking Lazarus for the greetings. Lazarus received a further surprise, when a letter came signed by the Pakistani CAS himself. Air Chief Marshal Qureshi expressed his thanks to Lazarus for his wishes and complimente on the “fight’ shown by the Indian pilots on the occasion. Group Captain Lazarus preserves the letter quite carefully, which serves to remind all that chivalry is still alive among fighter pilots. 39. Verma, Ashok Kalyan, Rivers of Silence: Disaster on River Nam Ka
Chu, 1962 and the Dasb to Dhaka Across River Meghna During 1971.
New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1998, p. 118. 40. Ibid. Major General Verma writes that the attack took place
on 3 December. Newspapers from that time put the date as 2
December. 41. Though the attack on Akhuara was acknowledged in Pakistani
papers, many PAF accounts do mention this mission, one
overshadowed by the subsequent days’ operations. 42. Haq, Air Vice-Marshal Inam-ul, ‘Saga of the PAF in East Pakistan’,
Defence Fournal. ‘No directive or intimation about the imminent war was conveyed to us from Rawalpindi, though we were to bear
the main brunt. 43. Ibid.
105

FOUR
The Air Offensive over Dacca
In any other year, a Saturday like 4 December would have been a slow day: a weekend for the standing down of forces across the India-Pakistan border, with pilots and airmen enjoying a welldeserved break with their families. But in 1971, it would be the day the fiercest air battles in the eastern sector would be fought. Those battles would be preceded by a pair of missions flown, ironically, by defectors from the PAF
THE KILO FLIGHT KICKS OFF At 9.30 p.m. on 3 December, a piston-engined Otter lined up on the runway at Kailashahar outside Agartala. Flight Lieutenant Shamshul Alam, ex-PAE now with the Kilo Flight, and Captain Akram, the ex-Plant Protection Agency pilot, were at its controls, running through the cockpit check list. The pilots had packed maps, charts, pencils, 500 Pakistani rupees and a 9 mm Sten gun. LAC Rustom, air gunner, and Corporal Haque, the designated bomb aimer, manned the rear passenger cabin. The Otter rolled down the runway, picking up speed and finally clawed into the air to hold its altitude at a mere 200 feet. As he flew in the faint glow of the moonlight, Alam spent the next half-hour navigating by the magnetic compass to arrive over Teliamura helipad. There, ground personnel from Kilo Flight fired a green Verey flare to confirm his mission. A few minutes earlier, the Kilo Flight’s armed Alouette III – piloted by Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed, their CO, with Flight Lieutenant Badr-ul-Alam as his co-pilot-had taken off and headed toward the fuel dumps at Narayanganj on the outskirts of Dacca. The IAF had decided the risk of sending a lone Alouette at night was worth taking.
Shamshul Alam was soon flying over the international border into East Pakistan. His target, Chittagong, a mere 140 miles distant, was still an hour’s flying time away. With a dense layer of mist floating above the ground, Alam had to fly lower and lower till he was barely a dozen feet above the ground. As they passed over the coastline the water shimmering below them indicated their position. Alam turned his aircraft southeast, heading towards Chittagong. The first signs of the target were a few ships anchored off the coast. Sensing their arrival over their target, Alam alerted his crew and armed his rockets. After locating the airfield, Alam picked two oil tanks in the area and made a shallow dive attack, firing two rockets-the first opening shots of the air war-at the target, which went up in a ball of flames.
Alam turned his aircraft around and made a second pass over the target as the gunner LAC Rustom liberally sprayed the ground with gunfire. During the second run anti-aircraft gunners wised up and opened up with a barrage. Alam had now turned the Otter away and headed out towards the sea only to find a ship straight ahead in his path. He fired the final salvo of two rockets at the ship; both found their mark. As they pulled away from the smoking ship, the adrenaline-infused crew spontaneously let out a war cry, *Joi Bangla!’ The return flight covered forty miles over East Pakistan before they crossed the southern border of Tripura back into Indian skies.
A few miles away, Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed attacked the Narayanganj storage tanks, located some fifty miles from the
Teliamura helipad. His raid faced no opposition from the ground and Ahmed returned safely to base.
These token missions’ significance lay in their morale-boosting impact on the Mukti Bahini and on the Kilo Flight itself. The
focus of air operations now shifted to the bomber resources of the IAF’s Central Air Command.
IAF STRIKES COMMENCE The IAF’s initial objective for operations over East Pakistan was simple: destroy PAF assets through air combat or strikes on airfields. While intelligence from PAF Bengali defectors had been useful in ascertaining the physical layout of PAF airfields, more precise photographic reconnaissance material detailing airfield layouts was not available to its pilots: Tezgaon lay too deep in East Pakistani territory for the IAF to have carried out reconnaissance missions before operations.
At the station commanders’ conference at Shillong on the night of 3 December, CAC had staked its claim to carry out the first air strikes on Dacca; the only unit that CAC could leverage was 16 Squadron at Gorakhpur.
Late on the evening of 3 December, Wing Commander P. Gautam’s phone rang at his home in Gorakhpur. It was the station commander, Group Captain P. Ramachandran, calling to inform Gautam of the outbreak of hostilities. The time had come to put the squadron’s battle plans into action. Gautam immediately drove to the base, stopping en route to inform the Squadron navigation leader K.K. Dutta (who was in turn to inform the senior flight commander P.M. Takle).
Gautam’s squadron had been training for months to fly against airfields in both the western and eastern sectors. The deeppenetration strikes against major airfields would be performed by his most experienced crews. Gautam and Takle would fly missions in the western sector; the responsibility for leading Canberra sorties in the eastern sector fell on Squadron Leader S.D. Karnik, the squadron’s second flight commander.
Four Canberras were armed and fuelled for the operations in the west. Another eight Canberra B(I)58s were armed with 1,000Ib bombs-six in the bomb bay and one under each wing-for eastern sector operations.
The Canberras took off late at night to strike the airfields at Tezgaon and Kurmitola; four aircraft were directed at each target. Karnik set off for Kurmitola with the first formation. Navigation by the full moon would have been useful but the IAF pilots need not have worried: the Canberras arrived over Dacca at 2.10 a.m. (IST) to find no blackout enforced. The aircrew faced the surprising challenge of identifying the location of the airfield in a sea of lights. They received unexpected help as they were greeted by a barrage of anti-aircraft fire from Tezgaon’s defences.
The raid and the AA barrage lasted for over an hour. The Canberras arrived in a stream, each aircraft braving the AA fire to drop their payloads and make way for the next to launch its attack.? But Tezgaon’s vital installations and runway were undamaged and though its Sabres were parked in blast pens with no sheltered covering, they remained unscathed.’ PAF Sabres’ operations for the next day would go on unhindered.
Dacca had a few hours respite, but the PAF squadron went on high alert. Preparations were made to launch combat air patrols (CAP) as soon as the day dawned. Thus the first CAP of two Sabres led by the CO Wing Commander Afzal Chaudhary took off at 5.05 a.m. EPT (4.30 IST); the pair returned without incident. This was followed by another CAP, led by the flight commander Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain, half an hour later, at sunrise. This patrol returned too, with no hostilities encountered. It seemed the IAF had not woken up. But the PAF knew this state of affairs would not last long.
HUNTERS TAKE OFF North of Tezgaon, feverish activity was underway at Hashimara airfield. 17 and 37 Squadrons had been given the distinction of sending in the first formations to strike Tezgaon airfield; they would be escorted by MiG-21s flying in from Gauhati. Wing Commander Chatrath, CO 17 Squadron, and Wing Commander S.K. Kaul, CO 37 Squadron, both attended a briefing with the chief operations officer (COO), Wing Commander R.V. Singh, at the base operations room at night on 3 December to work out the details of the forthcoming days’ operations. While their primary
task was to attack Tezgaon to destroy the PAF Sabre fleet, they also needed to send a detachment of Hunters to Kumbhirgram to provide local air support.
Four aircraft from each squadron, escorted by MiG-21s operating from Gauhati and Kalaikunda, would comprise the first wave of attackers. EAC’s squadron flew the Hunter’s Mk.56 variant, which was equipped with four 100-gallon tanks under the wings. Tezgaon lay roughly 210 miles south of Hashimara and a Hunter Mk.56 would be able to mount a lo-lo attack on it; the pilots’ route included a small detour to the initial point (IP) at the abandoned WWII airfield of Rupsi, fifty miles from Hashimara, within Indian territory. The unavailability of additional free pylons meant the Hunters would attack using their four 30 mm cannons, which packed a considerable punch if used effectively. The Hunter’s TOT was 7.05 a.m. IST.
The four-aircraft formations from 17 and 37 Squadron were led by their COs Wing Commander Chatrath and Wing Commander Kaul respectively. Barring emergencies, complete radio silence was to be maintained on the outbound leg to Tezgaon. A second wave of four aircraft from both squadrons would follow the first.
The first to take-off was 17 Squadron, their sortie planned at low levels. Almost immediately, the No. 3 pilot, Squadron Leader T.R. Patel could not retract his aircraft’s undercarriage. Patel tried his best to fix the problem, but by flying within the safety window with the undercarriage down, he fell behind the main formation. By the time he could retract the undercarriage, his formation was not in sight; Chatrath had decided to proceed to Tezgaon with the other two aircraft, flown by Flying Officer L.H. Dixon and Flying Officer Bansal.
Flying in a loose arrowhead formation, close to the border, Chatrath’s formation cleared its guns by firing a short burst. Their guns functioned smoothly; with a full load of fuel tanks and cannon ammunition, the sharp recoil on the aircraft was more distinct than their peacetime practice strikes at the armament range. Shortly after crossing over into East Pakistan, Chatrath picked the Brahmaputra River as their main navigation aid and

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flew south above the river at low altitude. Flying under the early morning mist, the formation skimmed the Brahmaputra’s roiling waves.
A few minutes behind 17 Squadron came the Hunters from 37 Squadron, led by the CO Wing Commander S.K. Kaul. This formation suffered its own set of problems. The No. 3 pilot, Squadron Leader A.M. Mascarenhas could not start his aircraft and aborted the mission. The No. 4 aircraft, flown by Flying Officer Harish Masand suffered undercarriage retraction failure after take-off. Masand threw the manual override switch and the undercarriage went up. Lagging behind the formation, he caught up as it crossed over from Rupsi, the last checkpoint for the formation. The formation’s troubles were not over. The No. 2, Flight Lieutenant S.K. ‘Billu’ Sangar’s cockpit suddenly misted requiring him to fly blind for a few seconds as he flicked on the de-misting switch. With some crisp R/T instructions from Masand, Sangar retained control long enough for the cockpit to clear up.
The formation took the direct route to Tezgaon, flying over land. The ground was covered in a thick layer of fog, which occasionally cleared to provide brief glimpses of the mostly flat terrain below. A thirty-minute flight to Dacca lay ahead of them.
Right on the heels of Kaul’s formation, another four Hunters of 17 Squadron took off. This consisted of the leader, the senior flight commander, Squadron Leader A.W. Lele, with Flying Officer S.S. Bains as his wingman; Flight Lieutenant Vinod Kumar Neb and wingman Flying Officer Kuldip Singh Bajwa made up the subsection.
MIGS TAKE OFF Approximately 140 miles to the east of Hashimara at Gauhati, service crews of the MiG-21 squadrons were busy launching their first missions of the day. Unlike Hashimara, Gauhati was shrouded in heavy fog causing much anxiety to its station commander, Group Captain Wollen, who, at 4 a.m., had asked Wing Commander B.K. Bishnoi, CO 28 Squadron, if he could manage in poor weather. Bishnoi knew that though current visibility was less than 150 metres, take-off time was a couple of hours away, and conditions could improve by then. Sure enough, by the time the pilots completed their briefing, visibility had improved to 500 metres.
The first formation of four MiG-21FLs from 4 Squadron, led by the CO Wing Commander Jayant Gole, prepared to take off at 6.30 a.m. (IST). The pilots taxiing their aircraft out could only see half the runway; the rest was shrouded in thick fog. Undeterred, the pilots took off and climbed right into it. Above 300 metres altitude (1,000 feet AGL), the fog disappeared and clear blue skies came into view. The formation-its four aircraft equipped with K-13 air-to-air missiles (AAMs)-set course for the IP at Dacca where they would rendezvous with the Hunter formations from Hashimara.
Minutes after Gole’s formation took off, the second strike from Gauhati, from 28 Squadron-four MiGs for ground attack, two for top cover-was launched. The strike component was armed with two UB-16 rocket pods, the escorts with two K-13 AAMs. All the MiGs carried a drop tank on the fuselage pylon for the maximum range the Dacca flight required. The path to Dacca was about 180 miles as the crow flies; as much of the flight would be done at low level, the MiGs needed to carry as much fuel as they could.
Wing Commander Bishnoi, the mission leader, was the first to take off, followed by Squadron Leaders C.D. Chandrasekhar, S.K. ‘Y&H’ Behal and Flight Lieutenant V.K. Bhatia. They were followed by the two escorts, Flight Lieutenants Manbir ‘Buzzy Singh and David ‘Dadoo’ Subaiya. The aircraft took off in poor visibility—with less than a third of the runway visible–and flew on over the Garo and Khasi Hills of Meghalaya at 300 feet altitude. As they cleared the foothills and crossed into East Pakistan, they flew into a surreal setting: the flat lands of East Pakistan were covered by a thick layer of fog, topped off by a clear blue sky. The gleaming MiG-21s stood out sharply, visible for miles in the clear light. The formation soon hugged the ground-just above
the mist covering the paddy fields as they powered on to Dacca at 900 kmph.
THE FIRST CHUKKER: 7.05 A.M. Meanwhile, at Dacca’s Tezgaon airport, the PAF was on high alert. Air battle with the IAF was inevitable; the only suspense concerned its hour of commencement.
Two miles south of Tezgaon’s runway, the eleven-storeyed Intercontinental Hotel, Dacca’s only luxury hotel, housed the international press contingent. The correspondents had already received a taste of what lay ahead on hearing the explosions from the Canberra raids. As dawn broke over the skies of Dacca, more than fifty correspondents were ready. The hotel’s roof offered a vantage point for observing Tezgaon airfield; many TV and film crews made their way there to set up their equipment and wait.
The PAF had by then mounted the first two CAPs. Both had returned disappointed as no IAF raids came in. As the last pairs of Sabres returned, incoming IAF aircraft were detected by the radar at Mirpur. There were two pairs of Sabres preparing for the next CAP and orders were given to scramble all available aircraft.
The first pair to take off was led by Squadron Leader Javed Afzaal with Flight Lieutenant Saeed Afzal as his wingman. Squadron Leader Afzaal was the base flight safety officer (FSO) at Dacca, but not averse to claiming a piece of the action. Close on their heels, another pair of Sabres, flown by Wing Commander S.M. Ahmed and Flying Officer Salman Rashidi, took off at 7 a.m. (IST). Wing Commander Ahmed was the special operations officer at Tezgaon, thus the No. 3 in the PAF’s planning staff hierarchy for the East. Dilawar Hussain had left clear instructions that with the exception of the FSO, only squadron pilots were to fly, but as Dilawar was airborne with no other senior officer in the squadron ADA hut, Ahmed asserted his seniority and replaced one of the pilots in the fourth mission of the day?
These four aircraft, in separate formations of two each, would soon be vectored by the ground radar towards the incoming Hunters from Hashimara.
AIR COMBAT
A few minutes after 7 a.m., Wing Commander Chatrath’s formation was coming in at around 500 feet altitude, the ground below still hazy, with visibility around 2,000-3,000 metres. The skies above were crystal clear. Just then, Flight Lieutenant Dixon spotted two Sabres flying high and quickly called out their presence to the formation leader. The Sabres were spaced out one behind the other with the lead flying lower while the second covered it from a higher altitude nearly a mile behind.
As Chatrath and Bansal kept flying straight, Dixon surmised the Sabres had probably not been seen by the leader. When the distance between the Hunters and the Sabres closed down to about a mile and a half, Dixon called for a hard turn to the right and clean aircraft’. All three three pilots-Chatrath, Bansal, and Dixon-broke into the direction of the Sabres as they jettisoned their drop tanks. Twelve resin-metal 100-gallon drop-tanks went hurtling into the fields below, and the Hunters, devoid of the drag and weight of the tanks gained a little spring for their tight turn towards the Sabres. The hard turn brought the Hunters behind the two Sabres and, closing in, Chatrath called out his intention to go for the lead Sabre; Dixon acknowledged and replied that he would go behind the second. Bansal in the meantime lost contact with the formation, and having lost sight of the other two, decided to abort the mission. The two Hunters now latched onto the two Sabres. As both Sabres split, they left the Hunter pilots chasing them separately.
Chatrath was now involved in a low level turning dogfight with his opponent. The Sabre was armed with air-to-air Sidewinder missiles and Chatrath knew he could not afford to let the PAT pilot achieve a lock onto his Hunter. The Sabre pilot was an experienced one: Chatrath noticed he was executing multiple yo-yo manoeuvres to get the Hunter in his sights. Each portion of the pull-up and subsequent dive brought the Sabres mere inches from the top of the coconut trees below, but the PAF pilot handled it with aplomb. As the combat was in progress, Chatrath
heard some R/T calls, presumably from Dixon indicating he was hit, and exiting the battle. Another call then came on the R/T which Chatrath thought was Bansal, also calling out his Hunter was hit. Chatrath quickly weighed his options. Breaking away from combat and helping out his wingmen was certainly one, but that might have been the opportunity his experienced opponent would have been looking for: a Hunter breaking away and heading straight and up would be an easy target, both for the 50 calibre guns of the Sabre as well as its missiles. Chatrath was going to have to trust his wingmen could take care of themselves there was nothing he could do to help.
In the midst of the turning dogfight, the Sabre suddenly broke away and headed straight for a short distance, the PAF pilot had probably lost sight of the Hunter and needed to re-orient himself with the ground and skies. But Chatrath was right behind the Sabre as the PAF pilot made a hard turn to port. Chatrath turned well inside the Sabre with all four 30 mm cannons blazing away, and saw their tracer rounds slam into his target, which turned into a ball of flame in a split second. Chatrath was too close to fire another burst for fear of flying into debris from the target, so he held his fire. The PAF pilot ejected from his stricken aircraft at extreme proximity to the Hunter; an unforgettable sight for Chatrath, who then composed himself before diving to the ground to deck level, setting course for home. During the combat, there had been little time to deliberate, or experience fear or excitement; instead, his training had kicked in, enabling him to execute one calculated move after another. But after pulling up near Hashimara, as Chatrath called out for permission to rejoin the circuit before landing, the battle finally caught up with him: ‘I realized my speech was incoherent. My mouth was entirely dry and felt like cotton wool!”
During Chatrath’s battle, his wingman Dixon was chasing another Sabre. It was not to prove much of an air combat; Dixon’s target did a tight 180-degree turn and rolled out in a southerly direction towards Dacca, making no attempt to engage in battle. Dixon lined up the Sabre in his gun sight as he saw the

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distance between the target and his aircraft increase. Dixon was about 1,500 yards behind the Sabre when he decided to fire at the target and discharged a burst from his front guns. With his aircraft already having bled off the airspeed from the turn, the recoil of the fire from the guns dropped the nose of the Hunter, and even as Dixon adjusted for the drop, the Sabre sped further away without suffering any apparent damage.
With very little allowance in fuel before the ‘bingo state would be reached, Dixon decided to turn back to Hashimara; he called up the leader on R/T and received no response. Understanding now that he was alone, he set course for Hashimara. He was gratified to see both Chatrath and Bansal had already landed safely. Though Dixon felt a little disappointed at the results of the strike, Chatrath had shot down a Sabre. But the larger objective of finding PAF Sabres and other assets on the ground at Tezgaon and destroying them had been defeated.
Chatrath’s formation probably ran into the PAF Sabres being flown by Wing Commander S.M. Ahmed and Flying Officer Salman Rashidi. Ahmed was spotted ejecting over the combat area, never to be seen again. Presumably he was caught by a hostile Bengali population on the ground and lynched. A tragic end, but not a surprising one considering the feelings Bengalis now bore towards the West Pakistani armed forces. A PAF rescue helicopter sent to recover him came back with just the parachute.”
While the combat between Chatrath’s formation and Ahmad and Rashidi’s Sabres were taking place, a second Sabre pair flown by Squadron Leader Javed Afzaal Ahmed and Flight Lieutenant Saeed Afzal Khan was desperately trying to locate them, they had picked up their compatriots’ R/T calls.
Unknown to them, the second Hunter formation of the day from 37 Squadron was headed toward them. This formation, led by Wing Commander Kaul, Squadron Leader Sangar and Flying Officer Masand, was barely two minutes from the initial point, about seventeen nautical miles north of Dacca, when Masand saw the pair of Sabres swing from their right to the left.
As Kaul tried raising the MiG-21 escort on R/T with no result, the Sabres noticed the Hunters and promptly went into a descending left turn to get behind them. The Hunters were flying at nearly 480 knots as the Sabres came behind the formation at about 2,000 yards. As the lead Sabre dropped its tanks, the resultant spray of fuel convinced the No. 3, Masand, that a missile had been launched. Masand knew the missiles were unlikely to hit his aircraft at such a low level, but instinct took over and he called for a hard turn to the right.
Kaul and Sangar threw their Hunters into a turn to the right and any chance of their continuing with their original mission rapidly diminished: operating at the extreme range of the Hunter with no tactical routing, the hard turn at full throttle meant their fuel allowance for the raid was depleted. The Hunters would not be heading for Dacca any time soon: ‘All of us were operating at extreme range. When I say extreme, it was truly endurance flying or range flying. Actually two minutes of battle fuel was available with you and to get away. Hardly any tactical routing was planned.”
With the formation still in the turn, Masand saw the second Sabre fall back further behind them, and even as Masand craned his neck to keep checking his rear, the lead Sabre failed to follow through and eased off the attack.
Alert to the danger of the Sabre’s wingman behind him, Masand continued his turn to possibly get a crossover from the other formation. Fixated on looking on either side of his aircraft, Masand missed out on two events: the third wave of Hunters from 17 Squadron was right in their wake-they had a TOT of two minutes after the first formation, 7.07 a.m.–and this third wave of Hunters had noticed the Sabres as well.
Bajwa spotted the Sabres behind Kaul’s formation further ahead and alerted his leader Lele. The formation had been receiving R/T calls about the air combat and perhaps calculating their precarious fuel reserves and the consequences of getting involved in a fight at extreme range, Lele decided to abort the mission and rolled out of the attack. The remaining pilots with Bajwa, Flight Lieutenant V.K. Neb and Flying Officer S.S. Bains,
however positioned themselves behind one of the Sabres. Neb, in particular, put himself in pursuit of the Sabre ahead and started firing at it. Neb and Bains were now separated; the latter’s aircraft was then attacked by the wingman of the Sabre being attacked by Neb. Bains’ Hunter received multiple hits and his drop tanks started streaming fuel. The ball ammunition though, failed to set the aircraft on fire, and Bains kept flying. Meanwhile the fire warning indicators in Neb’s Hunter lit up, and he had to disengage from combat. He looked around and noticed Bains’ Hunter at a distance streaming fuel. Neb called out to Bains to jettison his drop tanks and head for home.
Bains’ Hunter, probably under attack by Flight Licutenant Saeed Afzal, had been the Hunter spotted by Harish Masand as he rolled out of his turn. Masand did not realize Bains was under attack and thought either his CO or his wingman was in trouble.
Masand immediately closed in on the Sabre, halving the original separation of 300 yards in the process. Keeping the Sabre squarely in his sights, he pressed the firing button. But nothing happened; by force of habit, Masand had pressed the camera gun button. He immediately dropped the trigger and prepared to fire.
The Hunter had closed to within a hundred yards from the Sabre, with both aircraft 700 feet above ground level in a westerly direction. Afzal now noticed Masand’s Hunter on his tail and broke off his attack on Bains. In a last-ditch effort to shake off Masand, he began reversing his turn to the left. At that instant, Masand fired a short burst with his cannons that hit the Sabre with devastating effect. Masand’s Hunter was close enough to ensure there was little chance of the four Adens missing; his short burst from the 30 mm cannon found their mark as the F-86 blew up spectacularly; it seemed Afzal had perished.
At this stage the four MiG-21s from 4 Squadron arrived in response to the earlier R/T calls. By that time the battle was over and Gole’s formation found a parachute lazily floating down. Saeed Afzal had managed to eject.
Masand continued his turn to the right and rolled out towards Hashimara, radioing his formation he was heading home. In the heat of the battle, he had not jettisoned any of his four tanks. He climbed to a higher altitude to do range flying and landed at Hashimara with 200 lb of fuel left in his tanks.
The other formation members, Kaul and Sangar, had abandoned their strikes and landed a few minutes before Masand. Kaul had not been able to get his R/T to work and remained blissfully unaware of Masand’s battle. He kept his Hunter low till the border crossing before easing up to higher altitude. As the Brahmaputra slid into view, Kaul knew the mission’s end was close. Here, the R/T picked up transmissions again as Kaul heard Masand’s call about the battle and that he was coming in behind them.
Masand was greeted on the ground by his crew chief Flight Sergeant Choudhary who was still apologetic about the failure of the fourth Hunter to start, which resulted in Masand flying back alone. Choudhary confirmed Masand fired only eighteen rounds for his kill; an average of less than five rounds per gun.
At about the same time the last formation of Hunters from 17 Squadron returned. Lele landed first, Neb and Bajwa next, with Bains last. As with the other Hunters, they had returned with minimal fuel: Neb’s aircraft had less than 200 lbs of fuel left in its tanks. Bains’ aircraft had suffered more than sixty bullet hits. It was a miracle he had kept it flying,
The PAF pilots’ misfortunes had not ended with their ejections. Like Wing Commander S.M. Ahmed, Saeed Afzal was not seen again, presumably lynched by a hostile population on the ground; the Pakistan Army’s behaviour in East Pakistan had ensured PAF pilots stood little chance of being treated in a chivalrous fashion.
THE FIRST SUPERSONICS: 7.25 A.M. The skies over Tezgaon and Tangail cleared as fast as they were crowded. With Sabres and Hunters disengaging over the skies, only the four MiG-21s flown by 4 Squadron remained, led by the CO Wing Commander Gole. His objective had been to provide top cover to the Hunters. But now with the Hunters gone, Gole decided to leave the scene and head for Gauhati; he knew more MiG-21 formations would be following soon.
The first was the six-aircraft strike and escort package of 28 Squadron that had taken off at 7.10 a.m. Their CO, Wing Commander Bishnoi, had asked Gole for a warning if they ran into Sabres. Accordingly Gole transmitted a brief call ‘Careful, badmash!’ Close on Bishnoi’s heels were another four MiG21s led by Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill, with Flight Lieutenants Anil Bhalla and Vishu Mehta and Flying Officer N.S. Malhi as the other members of the formation. Gill’s formation was five minutes behind Bishnoi who picked up Gole’s warning and remained on alert. They were already two-thirds of the way towards their target. By now, the fog had cleared and the ground was visible. Gratifyingly, they were right on course; the first checkpoint, a factory at a river bend, lay just ahead. Bishnoi broke radio silence to inform the formation the target would appear on their left at eleven o’clock. The formation’s No. 3, Squadron Leader S.K. Behal, acknowledged the call.
The MiGs climbed at the pull-up point. The escorts were to pull up short of the target and set up orbit; the main strike force would pull up shortly thereafter. As the main formation pulled up, Bishnoi could see the vast expanse of Tezgaon’s runways, hangars, and dispersal areas loom into his field of vision on the left. Bishnoi did not realize this, but his was the first IAF formation to reach Tezgaon that morning.
As the first two-strike aircraft rolled into the attack, Bishnoi quickly scanned the area for targets. He saw a Sabre being refuelled at the ORP while another rolled down the runway for take-off. Bishnoi called out to Manbir Singh, ‘Buzzy, badmash taking off.’
Manbir Singh acknowledged he had the aircraft in sight. Bishnoi then observed another Sabre pass below him from left to right. This was acknowledged by Flight Lieutenant Subaiya who confirmed their tails were clear.
As Manbir Singh caught sight of the Sabre that took off towards the south, his MiG was flying at nearly 1,000 kmph and

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he immediately started to descend to get behind it. As Manbir was making his attack, another Sabre passed under him, the one seen by Bishnoi. Manbir heard the call from Subaiya about the second Sabre, so he turned his focus to the target in front.
The Sabre that took off was clawing for air to gain height as Manbir settled down behind, at a distance, to launch an AAM. But as soon as the K-13 left the rail, it turned slightly to the left and headed straight for the sun. In the winter skies of the northern hemisphere, the sun was in the southeast and it presented a greater heat source to the missile than the Sabre’s puny Orenda engine.
Cursing under his mask, Manbir immediately launched the second missile, which went under the Sabre, overshot it and exploded in front. The Sabre pilot had been a lucky man. He had now climbed to 600 feet and then started turning hard right. Manbir was now behind the Sabre, but without any weapons. He decided to trail the aircraft in a mock battle to keep it from interfering with the strike formation.
Meanwhile, relieved from looking out for the Sabres, Bishnoi and his No. 2, C.D. Chandrasekhar had conducted their first attack run. Bishnoi had lost sight of the Sabre on the ORP and was not in a position to attack it either. He then scanned the airfield for other aircraft to attack, but found none; scanning an unfamiliar airfield for targets while in a screaming pass at 1,000 kmph is never easy. Both the pilots selected a hangar as the target for their rockets.
The second section, comprising Behal and Bhatia was about to join the attack when the second escort, Flight Lieutenant Subaiya, orbiting overhead, noticed a Sabre approaching from the opposite direction. The Sabre was a small aircraft compared to the Hunter, and spotting it at a distance before it became a threat required well-trained eyes. Fortunately, IAF pilots had practised air combat with Gnats, and eyes trained for spotting Gnats were capable of spotting just about anything that could participate in air combat.
Subaiya noticed the Sabre trying to position itself behind the MiGs as they commenced their dive. Subaiya punched his centre
tank and dived behind the MiG formation, cutting in front of the Sabre to distract the PAF pilot, while calling out a warning on the R/T to Behal and Bhatia. The Sabre pilot took the bait and turned toward Subaiya. Now the MiG-21 and the Sabre were in a low-speed scissoring dogfight over the skies of Dacca.
The strike MiGs now came in for the second attack run. Bishnoi sighted a radio installation, fired his remaining rockets, and immediately exited the target area. Squadron Leader S.K. Behal and Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhatia came in behind him; Behal had earlier noticed Sabres on ORP and fired a full salvo of rockets. The ORP disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris. Now the four MiGs exited the target area. Bishnoi called out to the escorts, informing them his formation was setting course for base,
Manbir Singh, who had been tailing the Sabre to the south, heard the call and pulled up in a left turn to the north. Soon he was heading towards Gauhati at high speed at 3,500 feet altitude.
Meanwhile, over Dacca, Subaiya had been battling it out with the lone Sabre. The Sabre is ideally equipped for a low level turning fight with automatic forward slats and flaps that can be deployed to help it turn tightly; the MiG was at a disadvantage as its delta wings were not suited for a horizontal turning fight. Subaiya knew in a low-speed regime and in a vertical plane, he would be able to use the full rudder on the MiG effectively. He would put the MiG into a climb and then use the full rudder to turn the aircraft. While any other aircraft would fick into a spin at that altitude and speed, the MiG-21FL would merely drop its nose and turn around with little departure from controlled flight. The frequent vertical manoeuvres with afterburner though, further depleted his fuel reserves.
Though at several points Subaiya found himself on the tail of the Sabre about thirty degrees off, he was not in an ideal position to launch his missiles. With his fuel situation turning precarious, Subaiya decided to exit the fight. He engaged his afterburner, turned away from the Sabre and put his aircraft in a dive accelerating away to the north, trying to catch up with the rest of the formation.
About this time Manbir Singh called out to Subaiya, ‘Dadoo, what is your position?’ Subaiya replied he was heading towards base at low level. Unable to spot him, Manbir noticed a railway line going east-west as he crossed it. He radioed Subaiya asking him to call out as he crossed the railway line. The call soon came; as it did, Manbir looked to his left and right and then glimpsed Subaiya’s MiG to his right about two kilometres away, flying low and slightly ahead. Manbir now attempted to come level with Subaiya in formation, but when he was about a kilometre away, he spotted a Sabre following Subaiya 800 metres behind. Subaiya had in the meantime reduced speed to allow Manbir to come in close, but did not notice the Sabre sneaking up on him. Manbir shouted to Subaiya, ‘Dadoo! You have a Sabre behind you! Subaiya looked behind, and sure enough, the Sabre was rapidly closing in on him. Subaiya could scarcely believe the PAF pilot had been driven enough to follow him from Dacca. He immediately slammed the throttle lever forward to engage the afterburner and yanked the control column to the left. The afterburner lagged a little in engaging and the sharp turn bled the speed of the MiG quite rapidly, forcing the Sabre to overshoot Subaiya’s MiG.
Subaiya reversed his turn and picked up the Sabre ahead of him at around 400 metres. But the PAF pilot was throwing his Sabre into extravagant turns that prevented Subaiya from using his missiles, which were useless in a turning dogfight.
Manbir Singh, low on fuel himself and without any weapons to help, was headed towards Gauhati. He now climbed to 9,000 feet altitude for range flying and called out to Subaiya, ‘Dadoo, where are you?’ Hearing nothing, and fearing the worst, Manbir called out again on the R/T, ‘Dadoo, report position, we are heading back’. After a long pause, Subaiya replied he had disengaged from air combat and was flying back to Gauhati.
Bishnoi, flying ahead in the returning strike formation, cut into the R/T conversation and asked Subaiya to report his fuel state. Subaiya checked and reported he had barely 900 litres left. Bishnoi was shocked. 900 litres meant eighteen minutes of flying

time at low level, and if the afterburner was engaged, barely two minutes worth.
He ordered Subaiya to climb to six kilometres for range flying to base. Flying at high level would extend his flying time to thirty minutes, just enough to make it back to Gauhati.
Subaiya now called up 507 SU at Shillong to confirm the Sabre was not in pursuit; the SU responded affirmatively. By now he was twelve miles behind the main formation. Slowly and steadily he caught up with the main formation till he was abreast of them.
As the MiGs crossed over into Indian territory, Subaiya had 400 litres in the aircraft but with another seventy miles to go and the hills of Meghalaya to counter. With careful instructions from Bishnoi and the radar controller from 507SU, Subaiya nursed his aircraft slowly but surely towards Gauhati. By the time they were in visual contact with the airfield, Subaiya reported fifty litres of fuel left.
Bishnoi and Manbir had alerted Gauhati about Subaiya’s precarious fuel situation and asked them to keep a rescue helicopter ready. Subaiya would have none of it; having a helicopter ready seemed like a defeatist anticipation of an ejection. With the Gauhati runway straight ahead, Subaiya radioed he would not eject but would undertake a direct high-level approach and landing. The risk with a direct approach from high level was that if the pilot did not flare the aircraft correctly, it would sink rapidly and impact the ground with destructive force. A descent and low level approach was safer, but left little allowance for the pilot to eject if the engine flamed out, or if the aircraft overshot.
As Subaiya elected to make the high-level direct approach, Bishnoi tensed. But Subaiya touched down smoothly, much to Bishnoi’s relief. The MiG slowed down, and as it turned off at the end of the runway, its engine flamed out. Subaiya guided the aircraft into the nearest available empty pen.
As the aircraft entered the dispersal, the ground crew gathered around. The scars of combat were clearly visible: smoke-stained empty rocket pods and missile rails hung under the wings as mute witnesses to the battles over Dacca. A big hurrah went up Irom the ground crew; it was as much their war as the pilots’. This scene would repeat itself across various units and airfields throughout the war. It had been the MiG-21’s first air combat in the 1971 war.
Meanwhile the second strike formation from 28 Squadron led by Squadron Leader Gill had to abort their mission when they were intercepted by PAF Sabres. With no escort component, and armed with only the 32 mm rockets, which were of no use against the Sabres, Gill ruled out a direct attack on the airfield. The formation shook off the Sabres and flew back to Gauhati without incident.
THE VALIANTS’ FIRST ATTACK Either about the same time or just after the strike by the MiG21s, two Sukhoi-7s from 221 Squadron at Panagarh carried out a successful strafing run over Tezgaon airfield. The lone Sukhoi unit had been deputed for counter air sorties and close support. Departing from the usual practice of flying four-aircraft missions, the squadron had practised and planned on sending TWO-aircraft missions. The CO Wing Commander A. Sridharan had planned these to enable aircraft to attack targets from multiple directions.
221 Squadron had eleven aircraft available on strength, of which six could be spared for counter air missions. That meant they would fly no more than three missions to Tezgaon. Sridharan would lead the first strike; the second would be led by senior flight commander Squadron Leader O.N. Wadhwan and the third and last mission by Squadron Leader S.V. Bhutani, the other flight commander.
The Sukhoi pilots would rely on its NR-30 cannon against both ground and aerial targets. As the Sukhois would not be able to loiter over the target area, no more than two passes could be made. Ideally the pilots would identify targets on the first run and engage them on the second. MiGs from 30 Squadron from Kalaikunda would provide top cover. Since two Hunters from 14 Squadron would be attacking at the same time, it was easier for 30
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Squadron to provide cover to both strikes. The pilots were briefed with a sand model of the airfield and some outdated maps.
The first sortie led by Sridharan arrived over Tezgaon at approximately 7.25 a.m. The Sukhois had flown at low level from Panagarh to Dacca. Minutes short of the target, the pair split up; to confuse the PAF air defences, Sridharan would attack from the south, and the No. 2 Flight Lieutenant Akshay Thakur from the north.
After splitting up and flying for the requisite time, Sridharan turned left and pulled up for his attack. The airfield ahead of him was perfectly lined up with his flight path along the direction of the runway. As Sridharan dove in, he could see Thakur-coming in from the opposite direction commencing his attack. The
Tezgaon runway acted as the dividing line between the flight path of the attacking aircraft, which would attack targets only on their side of the runway to avoid mid-air collisions or the risk of one aircraft flying into the other’s path. There was one disadvantage with this approach: if the pilot saw a lucrative target on the ‘other’ side of the runway, he was prohibited from attacking it; the pilots had to make the best of the targets on their side.
Sridharan’s target area was east of the runway, Thakur’s to the west. As he scanned the area for targets, Sridharan spotted what appeared to be Sabres parked on the tarmac near the ATC Building. He called Thakur on the R/T to alert him. Thakur acknowledged the call and replied he had identified targets on his side of the runway. The attack from both directions seemed to have confused the airfield defences: Sridharan noticed AA guns were slow in reacting to the attack and did not pose a significant threat
Sridharan sprayed the aircraft on the tarmac with cannon fire and pulled out of the attack. Satisfied the aircraft were destroyed he engaged reheat and on exiting the target area, turned left towards the west. As he did so, Sridharan noticed two F-86 Sabres positioning themselves to attack his aircraft. By this time he had put his aircraft on reheat, and the Sukhoi-which could fly at 1500 kmph on reheat-easily pulled away from the F-86s. Operating at the extreme range of his combat radius, Sridharan could not turn around and engage the Sabres.
Meanwhile, Thakur finished his attack run and after pulling up turned right towards the west. After a few seconds he was able to align with Sridharan’s aircraft. Both Sukhois were on afterburner and disengaged roughly a minute or two flying time away from Dacca. By now, the pursuing Sabres had disappeared from view and the IAF pilots throttled back to conserve fuel.
Tezgaon was roughly 180 miles to the east of Panagarh as the crow flies. With a maximum combat range of 200 miles, even with two drop tanks, the Sukhois would be stretching their luck in a round trip mission. Thus, their missions were briefed to return to Dum Dum, 125 miles southwest of Tezgaon, where they would refuel and then carry on to fly the eighty-five miles to Panagarh. To cater to this arrangement a small detachment of technical personnel had been sent to Dum Dum before the war.
As the aircraft approached the Indian border, Sridharan called out to Dum Dum ATC for clearance for a direct approach. In the midst of the war, Dum Dum ATC had not been informed Sukhois would be routing through their airfield on the way back to Panagarh. Both the pilots received a negative answer; however after identifying themselves and apprising Dum Dum ATC of their precarious fuel state, they were cleared for a direct landing.
The PAF version of this attack claims the Sukhoi pair was intercepted by Flight Lieutenant Schames-ul-Haq and Flying Officer Mahmood Gul. Both pilots claimed firing at the Sukhois and scoring hits.”
BLACK PANTHERS AT IT… AGAIN The first MiG-21 versus Sabre dogfights over Dacca generated plenty of R/T chatter. These blow-by-blow transmissions were picked up by another Hunter formation coming in from Hashimara. This formation of four Hunters was from 37 Squadron, led by Squadron Leader A.A. ‘Bozo’ Bose with Flight Lieutenant Dewan as his wingman, Flight Lieutenant S.G. Khonde as the subsection leader and Flight Lieutenant K.B. Menon as his wingman. The Hunters flew in a loose ‘finger four formation at low level. Minutes short of the initial way point, they picked up radio conversations: one about Sabres taking off, another from a MiG21 pilot saying he was going in for the attack, and then another call saying that missiles had been fired unsuccessfully. The Hunter pilots wondered what they were headed into. They soon found out for within minutes they were intercepted as well.
The No. 4, Menon, spotted Sabres coming in from behind at his four o’clock. The Hunters were already flying low, and the Sabres were coming in even lower. The formation leader, Bose, immediately ordered a hard turn starboard, turning into the direction of the Sabres. The Sabres followed through but overshot the second pair of Hunters and placed themselves between Bose and Khonde. At this moment, the Sabres accelerated away rather than stay in the fight. Khonde had a brief opportunity to engage with them when one Sabre flew directly in front of his Hunter. Khonde fired a brief burst with his front guns, but did not score any hits. His gun camera film would later show a Sabre too distant to be hit. The Sabres were probably not even aware of the second pair of Hunters behind them and they did not seem inclined to pursue the attack once the Hunters turned back. The brief engagement with the Sabres was enough for the Indian formation to abort their strike and head home.
THE FIRST LOSS: HUNTER DOWN AT TEZGAON At around 7.30 a.m., the next Indian attack on Tezgaon materialized in the form of two Hunters from 14 Squadron. This mission was launched from Dum Dum. The two-aircraft mission was led by Squadron Leader K.D. Mehra, a veteran of the 1965 war, with Flight Lieutenant Santosh ‘Monus’ Mone as his No. 2. The raid was originally to be a four-aircraft strike, but most aircraft had been allocated for the strike on Chittagong, and at least two aircraft were needed to hit the Chandpur Ferry according to the navy’s requirements. Only two Hunters could be spared for Dacca. The Hunters were promised top cover from MiG-21s from 30 Squadron operating out of Kalaikunda.
As with the other Hunter missions, the attack would be made with front guns.
The Hunters arrived over Tezgaon soon after Sridharan’s Sukhoi formation left the scene. Out of the four Hunter formations launched that day, theirs was the first to reach Tezgaon. As with almost all the formations that reached Dacca on 4 December the PAF’s Sabres having been well dispersed–were not spotted on the ground. Mehra and Mone picked other targets on the ground and commenced strafing. During the strafing runs, the pilots were separated from each other.
At the end of the second run, Mone saw two specks in the sky which he thought were their escorts. Unknown to him, they were F-86 Sabres; they promptly jumped into the melee and got behind the Hunters.
As Mehra pulled out of his second run, he found a Sabre on his tail. Mehra broke left and called out to Mone about his position but heard nothing. The Sabre started firing at Mehra’s Hunter and scored several hits. Unable to shake his pursuer off, Mehra called Mone to help him out by shooting down his attacker, but Mone was himself being chased by the other Sabre.
When Mehra’s call came, Mone was busy shaking off the Sabre on his tail. He immediately jettisoned the drop tanks, dropped the flaps a notch and broke tightly into his attacker. The Hunter was hitting 360 knots (414 mph) at this point and Mone used his

speed to make a low level exit towards Dum Dum. The PAF pilot gave chase and kept firing. Mone’s Hunter had been hit several times, but the damage was limited and did not affect his handling of the aircraft. After the two attack runs and discarding the drop tanks, Mone’s fuel state did not allow him the luxury of air combat at this stage.
Mehra was not so lucky. His Hunter was repeatedly hit by his pursuer’s bullets. He was flying low at around 100 feet altitude and the aircraft was in flames. At this point the Sabre overshot Mehra’s Hunter and for a moment was framed neatly in Mehra’s gunsight. Mehra took a shot at it with a brief burst, but was not sure if he had hit home.
With the rear fuselage of the Hunter on fire, and the cockpit full of smoke, Mehra found it difficult to breathe. He switched off the air conditioning and the cockpit cleared up in seconds but the smoke and heat were making their presence felt. Mehra could feel himself burning, and at one point he called out on the R/T that he was on fire. Mehra knew he had barely left Dacca when he was attacked; there was still some distance to go to the border. It was a race against the creeping fire but all too quickly it became unbearable in the cockpit.
Without further ado, Mehra pulled the ejection lever between his legs. What should have been a microsecond operation resulting in him descending under a parachute turned into a horrific experience. The canopy separated but the seat’s ejection gun refused to fire. The massive windblast hit Mehra like a brick wall, tearing away Mchra’s gloves and watch. His right arm was caught in the slipstream and was yanked backward, dislocating at the shoulder. Somehow, Mehra used his left hand to pull the lever on the seat head. This time the seat fired and Mehra was tossed into the air. From the time his Hunter had been first hit by the Sabre to his ejection, a minute that felt like an eternity had elapsed.
Mehra’s next conscious memory was of lying in a paddy field. He could not move but could sense his face was injured from the windblast. His dislocated right arm was limp. Mehra could not remember descending in his parachute: he had ejected so low that he had not felt the swing of the parachute and hit the ground as soon as it deployed.
Before he could regain his senses, a horde of Bengali villagers descended on him and started hitting him with sticks and lathis. In the midst of this lynching, better sense prevailed and two Bengali youths stopped the crowd and asked Mehra who he was. Mehra’s cigarettes and his identity card convinced them he was Indian. Mehra was lucky to have landed amongst the Mukti Bahini.
The villagers helped Mehra remove his flying overalls and gave him a lungi to wear. A Mukti Bahini fighter relieved him of his pistol; it was probably of better use elsewhere. Mehra was too injured to walk and was carried to a nearby village. By that time he had lost consciousness again.
As he was carried unconscious into a hut, the owner of the hut, an old Bengali lady, checked on Mehra and found no pulse. She was in tears, thinking Mehra had died as he was brought in. Just then, Mehra came to; she and the villagers heaved a sigh of relief. The villagers then proceeded to offer Mehra breakfast. The time was 8.45 a.m.; Mehra realized this was his first meal of the day. A long journey lay ahead of him.
END OF THE FIRST WAVE Thus ended the first wave of AF attacks on the PAF’s airfields at Tezgaon and Kurmitola. In forty minutes, from 7.05 to 7.45 a.m., the IAF units flew thirty-four sorties: eighteen on Hunters, fourteen on MiG-21s and two on Sukhois. Two Sabres were shot down, one Hunter was lost to a Sabre, and two more Hunters were damaged. The PAF had responded by launching either six or eight sorties and lost two aircraft in combat. There was to be an hour’s lull before the second wave of attacks started. The raids had caused little damage to PAF aircraft on the ground. The Pakistan Army aviation squadron’s detachment reported being strafed at around 8.30 a.m. (IST); one of their Mi-8s was damaged, and several personnel were injured, three of them later succumbing to injuries.”
A SIDESHOW AT CHITTAGONG
As Hunters and MiGs tangled with Sabres over Tezgaon, a massive air attack executed by 14 Squadron was underway elsewhere. 14 Squadron’s area of responsibility was the Chittagong division of East Pakistan. The Chittagong Hill Tracts were out of loiter range of almost all the IAF’s attack aircraft at Gauhati, Hashimara, or Panagarh. The IAF had assured the Indian Navy it would confirm the absence of fighters at Chittagong so that the navy could operate freely in that sector. The Navy had then added the ports of Chandpur and Golanda Ghats to the list of targets to be handled by the IAE These tasks were assigned to 14 Squadron. To accomplish them, twelve Hunters from 14 Squadron had flown from Kalaikunda to Dum Dum the previous afternoon.
The first mission of the day called for a strike on Chittagong. Of the available twelve aircraft, eight were allocated for this raid. The remaining four would be distributed between Chandpur Ferry and Dacca airfield. All three missions would take off at 7 a.m. with an approximate TOT of 7.30 a.m.
At 7 a.m. sharp, eight Hunters took off for the long haul to Chittagong. The CO, Wing Commander R. Sundaresan, led the formation, with Squadron Leader Madhav Kashav leading the second section of four aircraft. The aircraft were equipped with four drop tanks and would undertake front gun attacks. They arrived over Chittagong to be greeted with AA fire. The earlier raid by the Kilo Flight Otter had kept the AA gunners on edge and they opened up before the Hunters were in range.
There was no fighter opposition; the Hunters strafed targets of opportunity before returning. A minor scare ensued when the tail end charlie, Flying Officer Jagjit ‘Jagga’ Singh went missing. Jagga failed to respond to repeated R/T calls and was given up for lost. But Jagga’s radio had merely decided to pick this inopportune moment to stop working. Kashav soon spotted Jagga’s aircraft and ensured they regrouped correctly.
The pilots set course for base but climbed to 8,000 feet to carry out range flying. They had originally planned to fly at low level on the return leg, but fuel concerns now drove the decision to climb to a higher altitude.
Sundaresan requested air cover from the Gnats based at Dum Dum but that did not materialize. Eventually, the formation returned to Dum Dum without mishap. None of the aircraft had suffered any serious damage. One aircraft had a couple of bullet holes, which were soon riveted over and patched up by Engineering Officer D.P. Sharma.
With all eight Hunters from the Chittagong raid back on the ground, the only aircraft yet to return were those on the missions to Chandpur Ferry and Tezgaon. The pilots were sitting outside the crew room exchanging stories when a lone Hunter appeared low over the airfield. The first thing the pilots noticed was the absence of the drop tanks sparking the realization that Sabres must have forced them to jettison the tanks.
As Santosh Mone stepped out of his bullet-ridden aircraft, the rest of the crew members surrounded him, inquiring about K.D. Mehra. Mone described the R/T transmission indicating Mehra’s aircraft was on fire; he was sure Mehra had ejected.
The two Hunters that had attacked Chandpur Ferry returned shortly thereafter. Their target was found in spite of heavy haze and successfully attacked by the pilots, K.S. Sidhu and Kenneth Tremenhere; the latter, in particular, had hit a goods train and an oil tank in succession.
Stung by Mehra’s loss, Squadron Leader Kashav unhesitatingly volunteered to fly the next sortie to Kurmitola, which was to take off in the next two hours (taking Mohan as his wingman). Kashav hoped they would encounter the Sabres to exact payback for losing Mehra. The other Hunters of the squadron were allocated for carrying out ground support missions.
THE SECOND WAVE AT 9.30 A.M. After the last formations returned from Tezgaon, IAF units had begun turning around strike aircraft. Many of the squadrons involved in the strikes had used most, if not all, of their serviceable aircraft in the first wave and had to wait while the
aircraft that returned underwent service for the next missions. This turnaround took around an hour. For instance, 28 Squadron at Gauhati launched ten aircraft in two missions, of six and four aircraft cach, out of a total strength of eleven MiGs. It took the ground crews an hour to service, refuel and re-arm them to prepare them for the next mission, which got off the ground at 9.30 a.m. 14 Squadron had used all twelve aircraft in the first round of missions-eight to Chittagong, two to Dacca and two to Chandpur. It took them an hour to turn around the eleven that returned. The Hunter squadrons at Hashimara had on strength twenty-one single-seater Hunters between them; as many as sixteen were launched in the first hour, eight each from 17 and 37 Squadrons.
Then there was 30 Squadron, with sixteen MiG-21s at Kalaikunda, a location that, 238 miles from Tezgaon, was of little use in launching low level surprise strikes. Any mission originating from their base launched as a high-level sweep to conserve fuel, would be detectable from miles away. Moreover, the squadron was already entrusted with protecting the skies over Kalaikunda, Panagarh and Dum Dum; thus most of the day it was involved in flying CAPs and cover to interdiction missions in support of the army. The Sukhois from Panagarh were used for six interdiction missions; the Rhinos sent escorts on three of them. A couple of sweeps took the Rhinos all the way to Dacca; one such mission was flown at 9.30 a.m. by Flight Lieutenant C.K. Krishnatri and Flight Lieutenant M.V. Singh. They did not fly over the airfield, but set up circuit nearby. There was no air activity at the time and the mission was uneventful.
About the same time, the second strike from 221 Squadron led by Squadron Leader O.N. Wadhwan, with Flight Lieutenant Dinesh Chandra ‘Danny’ Nayyar as his wingman attacked Tezgaon. The two Sukhois had to fly in with four drop tanks, two under the belly and two under the wings; the attack would be carried out using the front guns. To avoid radar and AA guns, both the pilots hugged the deck as they made for Tezgaon.
As they approached Tezgaon, Wadhwan saw a large column
of smoke rising over Dacca. Assuming the smoke to be the aftermath of earlier strikes on the airfield, Wadhwan made a small correction to his approach to fly right over the smoke, but found to his disappointment that it emanated from a cotton mill’s chimney; someone was still working for a living even as air-raids went on around the city.
Both the Sukhois were still flying low with Wadhwan calculating where the airfield was when they suddenly flew right over it. The pilots were as surprised as the anti-aircraft gunners, who opened up as the Sukhois exited. Wadhwan called out on the R/T ‘Missed attack and pulled over in a hard low level turn to make a second approach, with Nayyar closely behind. Wadhwan and Nayyar carried out a second run strafing ground installations, buildings, hangars, indeed anything that appeared to be manned, even as heavy AA fire and shrapnel flew around them. Wadhwan, who did not see any Sabres on the ground, called out ‘one more’ at the end of the second run; the Sukhois turned around to make a third pass over Tezgaon.

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After making their third strafing run, Wadhwan and Nayyar exited Tezgaon. As they did so, Wadhwan checked in with Nayyar over the R/T. Nayyar replied his aircraft had been hit by ground fire and was losing fuel fast: his bingo lights had come on. Wadhwan quickly appraised the situation. Normally the Sukhois would exit the target area with full afterburner on, but that was a fuel-guzzling strategy. Wadhwan called out to Nayyar to switch off reheat and throttle back to 91 per cent.
Both aircraft now slowed down to fly at range flying speed and climbed to 2,000 metres altitude, an easier height for navigation for the pilots. Wadhwan and Nayyar were sure no Sabres were in pursuit. If a combat air patrol had followed the Sukhois they would have found them flying at a slower speed and at medium height, i.e., sitting ducks for Sidewinder missiles. Wadhwan hoped there would be MiG-21s around acting as deterrents. He tried raising an escort on the R/T after changing to the frequency used by the MiGs but got no response. A quick call over the Barrackpore Signal Unit’s frequency also resulted in no response.
The Sukhois were now headed for Dum Dum, so Wadhwan tried raising their ATC and finally got a response. He informed Dum Dum the No. 2, Nayyar was critically short on fuel and would be making a direct approach. Wadhwan held off in circuit over Dum Dum while Nayyar made a direct approach and touched down successfully. As he taxied to the hangars, the engine flamed out. Wadhwan landed moments later.
Both aircraft had been hit by AA fire; their fuselages were punctured with small holes. The detachment stationed at Dum Dum by 221 Squadron soon refuelled the Sukhois and both pilots were back in Panagarh in quick time.
On the ground at Panagarh, Wadhwan saw the next two Sukhois being prepared for the final mission to Tezgaon. These were to be flown by Squadron Leader S.V. Bhutani with Flight Lieutenant Azecz-ur-Rahman as wingman. Bhutani asked Wadhwan, ‘How was it? Wadhwan replied, “Tu jake dekh! (You go and see!), you’ll see lots of AA!
Close to the time of the Sukhoi strike, two Hunters from
14 Squadron, led by Squadron Leader Kashav, struck Tezgaon. Avoiding the usual navigation point south of the airfield, Kashav led his wingman direct to the target, strating the dispersal areas before exiting. Both pilots returned safely to Dum Dum. Though Dum Dum radar reported Sabres over the navigation waypoint neither pilot saw any. The decision to directly fly to the airfield instead of via the waypoint may have helped in avoiding interceptors.
MIG VERSUS SABRE: ROUND TWO Meanwhile at Gauhati, 28 Squadron had turned around its aircraft and re-launched them for a second strike on Tezgaon at 9.30 a.m. IST. Ten aircraft were launched in five minutes. The formations had the same composition as in the morning: the first had four MiGs on a strike mission, led by Wing Commander Bishnoi and escorted by two MiGs armed with AAMs. They took off at 9.29 a.m., followed five minutes later by four MiG-21s led by Squadron Leader Gill at 9.34 a.m. The TOT at Dacca was approximately 10 a.m. (10.30 EPT).
These formations were preceded by a two-aircraft mission from 4 Squadron. One of its pilots was Flying Officer Jayendra Sukrut Raj. As the two MiGs headed for Dacca, they ran straight into a pair of Sabres, coming at them head-on from the opposite direction. Sukrut Raj pulled up vertically in his MiG even as the Sabre pilot tried the same move. With both aircraft in a straight climb, neither was in a position of dominance. Sukrut Raj kept the Sabre in full view, not allowing his opponent to fall back on his six o’clock and take a shot. While he was able to use the MiG’s afterburner to maintain vertical thrust, the Sabre soon ran out of air, slid on its tail, and flipped over. This was the opportunity Sukrut Raj was waiting for; he hit the rudder, smoothly turning the MiG in a stall turn and followed the Sabre vertically down. As it loomed dead ahead, he launched a K-13 missile after confirming the launch parameters were met. But the MiG was in a near vertical dive, and fearing he would run out of altitude, Sukrut Raj pulled away, without noting whether the missile had found its mark or not.

While this battle was going on, the first formation from 28 Squadron, escorted by Manbir Singh and ‘Dadoo’ Subaiya, was headed to Dacca. Short of their destination, they saw a Sabre diving vertically down, trailing smoke, even as it disappeared from view. In response to Manbir Singh’s and Subaiya’s R/T call, Sukrut Raj responded his formation was in combat with PAF Sabres, and that he had engaged one.
The 28 Squadron pilots kept their eyes peeled as they climbed into orbit over Tezgaon. No Sabres were in sight, but they encountered heavy AA fire. Wing Commander Bishnoi attacked the ORP area, and Squadron Leader Behal, a blast pen. The second subsection flew over to Kurmitola where Chandrasekhar attacked the ORP. The last aircraft suffered an electrical malfunction and its rockets were rendered useless.
The next four MiGs led by “Goli’ Gill had slightly better luck. Its pilots spotted two Sabres on the ORP near the runway and rocketed them even as they realized, almost immediately, that their targets were dummy aircraft.20 Having expended their rockets, this formation made it back to Gauhati without further incident.
A day later, reports filtered in that the Mukti Bahini had reported a Sabre crashing after combat with a MiG. Since Sukrut Raj was the only MiG pilot who reported combat at that time and place, he was awarded the kill, though he himself never claimed one. These reports turned out to be mistaken.
As Sukrut Raj was tangling with a Sabre over Dacca, two Hunters from 17 Squadron at Hashimara, led by Squadron Leader A.W. Lele with Flight Lieutenant K.S. Bajwa as his No. 2 were coming in at low level from the northeast. The squadron had intended to turn around the formation of four that returned from the previous mission. They were to attack Kurmitola airfield, and then instead of returning to Hashimara, fly to Kumbhirgram to the east, where they would man the detachment for the remainder of the operations. However, when the time came to launch, Flight Lieutenant Neb’s aircraft failed to start. As Neb and the ground crew were troubleshooting his aircraft, the No. 4, Bains, was instructed to stay with Neb and accompany him whenever the aircraft started. Lele and Bajwa proceeded on the mission on their own.21 Short of Dacca, the pair was attacked by two Sabres. Bajwa gave a quick warning over the R/T to Lele about a Sabre behind them; Lele was able to execute a timely break and elude it. Bajwa’s aircraft however was straddled by gunfire from a Sabre and his controls were damaged. The Hunter departed from controlled flight but Bajwa was able to regain control at low level and then head for home. The PAF Sabres made no attempt to pursue him. Bajwa had lost sight of his leader but managed the 150-mile flight to Kumbhirgram without incident.
Meanwhile at Hashimara, Neb’s aircraft had become airworthy too late for him and Bains to carry out their strike. They were ordered to head for Kumbhirgram later in the afternoon to join Lele and Bajwa. The four pilots operated from Kumbhirgram for the rest of the war.
37 SQUADRON’S RAID: 10.46 A.M. Forty-five minutes later, 37 Squadron returned to Tezgaon. Mission 509 consisted of two Hunters flown by Flight Lieutenant S.G. Khonde and Flying Officer V.K. Arora. Khonde was flying his second strike on Tezgaon. IIis first, three hours earlier, had been intercepted by Sabres; he had even got off a shot at one of his opponents. But neither his formation, nor the one that preceded his, had got within striking distance of Tezgaon. This strike changed that trend.
Both Hunters pulled up over Tezgaon at 10.46 a.m.; there were no Sabres in the air but the ack-ack fire was fierce. The pilots tried to identify viable targets but the blast pens on the northern end of the runway as well as the dispersal areas to the east were empty; the airfield bore a desolate look with only the AA guns active.
The light anti-aircraft guns opened up at the Hunters with a devastating barrage as the Hunters pulled up on their first pass. Almost immediately, Dacca’s AA guns claimed their first victim: Khonde’s Hunter (BA266) was hit and crashed east of the runway,” less than fifty yards from the gun position that claimed

it23 The resulting fireball and thick black smoke were not missed by his wingman. It was clear to Arora there was no ejection. I lis own Hunter (BA301) received several hits from the AA fire.
Arora did not allow this mishap to deter him. He located the AA gun position that had shot down Khonde and destroyed it with his front guns.24 He followed this up with another strafing attack on another gun position. After two passes, Arora headed for Hashimara. Forty miles north of Dacca, he came across a factory at Masala and strafed it as well.
Shooting down Khonde’s Hunter gave the PAF their first visible success, after several claims with nothing to show for them. Pakistani public relations officers immediately invited correspondents to visit the airfield to get a closer look at the wreckage. The bevy of international correspondents who had a ringside view to the air attacks from their vantage point at the top of the Dacca Intercontinental Hotel was the first to get the word. They went in droves, finding whatever transportation they could to get to the airfield, lugging along cameras, tripods, television equipment, or plain notepads. They were being directed to the wreckage site when two IAF Sukhois screamed in to make a strafing attack. The guns of Tezgaon opened up in a furious response and the journalists and cameramen had to dive for cover.

THE VAUANTS’ FINAL STRIKE The two Sukhois were the last formation put up by 221 Squadron, flown by Squadron Leader S.V. Bhutani and Flight Lieutenant Azeez-ur-Rahman. Bhutani and Rahman, as Wadhwan had predicted, faced intense AA fire. Bhutani had been briefed he would find aircraft parked in blast pens on the northern side of the runway but failed to find any. He did spot several wellcamouflaged blast pens and strafed those. Both aircraft completed their attack run and went around for a second diving attack.
This time around, Bhutani was able to identify aircraft to attack. With his target squarely in his sights, Bhutani had just fired his front guns when his aircraft received a massive jolt; Tezgaon’s AA guns had found their mark again. Within seconds, the massive Sukhoi was careening out of control, flames spurting out of its belly as Bhutani struggled to fly his stricken aircraft. But he knew he was low and his Sukhoi was on fire. As the engine rpm fell, he had to abandon ship. The Sukhoi was unstable; it reared up and then nosed down like a falling leaf. As he fired the ejection handle, Bhutani was unsure whether he would survive the ejection.
Fortunately for Bhutani, the ejection cycle was clean. Though the Sukhoi had toppled out of control, his ejection seat cleared the aircraft just as the Sukhoi was level for a brief moment,

which ensured a clean separation. Bhutani found himself under the bright orange silk canopy of his parachute, in full view of the correspondents at Tezgaon airfield.25
Bhutani remembers the whole sequence:
In the second attack, as I entered the attack, the aircraft got hit. The aircraft was on fire. It was going out of control, I couldn’t recover; the engine was packing up. I was quite low and diving and I had to immediately abandon it, otherwise I would go down with it.
So I was very quick in making the decision and pulling the ejection handle. At that height I was not sure also if I would come out alive. And I was fortunate that the aircraft was hit badly but I was not hit.
So I ejected and when you are travelling at that speed at about 900 km, suddenly you are exposed and the windblast hits you with force. I felt the wind hitting my chest. But the ejection cycle was perfect. Seat separated, parachute developed. As soon as the parachute developed I touched the ground. If I had taken a second more, perhaps I would have come down like a ton of bricks.
I landed in knee-deep water in a pond of water. I slowly came out of the water. As soon as I came out a few gunmen, policemen with guns came. And they arrested me there.26
Bhutani had picked the most hostile portion of Dacca for his descent. His aircraft had crashed behind the newly built Suhrawardy hospital in the Agriculture University grounds. The grounds were not too far from Mahmudpur, a residential colony inhabited by Bihari Muslims, most of whom had aligned themselves with West Pakistan. Bhutani came down in full view of them, the Pakistan Army, police and razakars. He was even fired at with small arms on the way down, but miraculously was not hit. After landing in the pond, Bhutani retrieved the ammunition box for his revolver, which he had stacked in his boot, and dumped it in the water. The police were soon on to him, arresting him and seizing his unloaded revolver and other personal effects. Bhutani told the police he had hurt his back and would need a doctor.
But a belligerent crowd of razakars and Bihari Muslims had gathered, shouting slogans— Pakistan Zindabad, Indira Gandhi Murdabad’-and they pounced on Bhutani:
They started hitting me, attacking me, the policemen were trying to save me but they were outnumbered. They were just two or three of them. And the crowd, perhaps there was a crowd of more than fifty. I got beaten by sticks; I got hit by fists all over my body. Hit in the head, on my shins, wherever one could have been beaten I got hit. I thought to myself ‘This is the end. The crowd is going to kill me. I survived the ejection, but I will not survive this.
During the beating, someone snatched the revolver the police had seized from Bhutani and tried to shoot him in the head. But the gun was not loaded; Bhutani’s whimsical decision to not load the gun ahead of the sortie had been a lifesaving move.
Fortunately for Bhutani, a police jeep manned by a senior officer drove up. The crowd was now brought under control,
Bhutani retrieved from its clutches, and whisked away to safety at the local police station. There a much-relieved Bhutani was given a cup of tea, and a few phone calls later, the PAF arrived to blindfold him and take him away to Tezgaon for interrogation.
Bhutani was taken to a room with an attached toilet where he cleaned up. When left alone in the toilet, Bhutani retrieved the Bangladeshi flag issued to him from his map pocket and flushed it down the toilet. As if on cue, a little while later, his captors searched his pockets and found nothing.
Bhutani’s wingman, Azeez-ur-Rahman, meanwhile, flew back to Dum Dum safely. He had not seen Bhutani’s ejection and did not know whether he had survived.
THE BLACK PANTHER’S THIRD RAID After the loss of S.G. Khonde, 37 Squadron bit Tezgaon again at 12.18 p.m. A four-aircraft mission led by Squadron Leader A.A. Bose reached Tezgaon unopposed. Bose had Flying Officer R.K. Dewan as his wingman and Squadron Leader A.B. Samanta and Flight Lieutenant S.K.J. Nair as the other formation members.
As the Hunters rolled into their dive, the No. 4 pilot, Nair noticed his leader, Samanta’s aircraft hit by AA fire and emitting smoke. Samanta straightened out of the dive immediately and turned eastwards, flying at approximate 500 feet altitude. Nair called out on the R/T to Samanta asking him to eject; Samanta responded he would try to make it to Kumbhirgram.
Nair rendezvoused with the other two aircraft and flew back to Hashimara. Samanta did not make it to Kumbhirgram. His Hunter (BA252) had crashed on the outskirts of Dacca, killing him. His fate remained unknown till the end of the war.27
THE MIGS CONTINUE THE ONSLAUGHT The Gauhati MiGs returned in full force at approximately 12.35 p.m. (IST). The first formation over the airfield was a pair from 28 Squadron consisting of Wing Commander Bishnoi (on his third sortie of the day over Tezgaon) and Flight Lieutenant ‘Chic Bapat. Two additional MiGs flown by Flight Lieutenant Manbir
Singh and Flight Lieutenant K.S. Raghavachari maintained top cover as escorts.
Bishnoi spotted a medium-sized aircraft on the tarmac on the first pass and took it to be a PAF RB-57 Canberra. During the second pass, a hail of rockets set it aflame; the escorts confirmed the fire as the MiGs exited. Both Bishnoi and Bapat’s aircraft suffered slight damage from AA fire.
Bishnoi had destroyed a De Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter belonging to Pakistan International Airways (PIA), which had based two Twin Otters at Dacca for feeder services. At the outbreak of the war, both aircraft were commandeered by the PAF and kept as ‘escape’ aircraft to be used to fly out PAF pilots to Burma if needed. The AOC Dacca, Inam-ul-Haq, was a mere 150 yards from the Otter, operating ‘Killer Control’, an operations post perched just above the tree-line, and was a hapless witness as the Twin Otter went up in flames.
Close on Bishnoi’s heels, five minutes later, his fight commander, Squadron Leader ‘Goli’ Gill, with Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhalla as his wingman, arrived escorted by a pair of MiGs from 4 Squadron, flown by Flight Lieutenants Ashley Rodrigues and D.D.S. Kumar. Gill struck gold as well, as he spotted two light aircraft near the Civil Hangar. Another strafing pass with rockets resulted in a huge column of black smoke; again, the escort pilots verified the destruction of the aircraft.
The two light aircraft destroyed were Swiss-registered Pilatus PC-6 Porters chartered to the UNEPRO. Both aircraft, registrations HB-FFB and HB-FFO, burned out completely.
The MiGs in their strafing run had had some unintentional targets-the international journalists who had come to the airfield to examine the wreckage of Khonde’s Hunter. The journalists hit the dirt and kept their heads down as the MiGs made low passes over them even as some intrepid cameramen continued to let their cameras roll. Everyone, including the New York Times’ Jim Sterba and the London Observer’s Gavin Young, had a ringside view of the air strikes as aircraft and some oil tanks went up in flames.
After heaving the proverbial sigh of relief Gavin Young summed
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up the scene (and offered a pithy description of what was wrong with the Indian effort):
I had a series of the closest views of the underside of Indian MiGjets that I could ever wish for…they came back and back… wheeling in from different directions…very low, say twenty to thirty feet directly overhead-banking away after releasing their rockets. The noise was shattering, but the Pakistani guns out-shattered them. A United Nations plane went up in smoke.
Rockets ploughed through a hangar. It was an exhilarating show… If the Indians had had bombs under their wings, or napalm, few of us would have been left alive.
When the MiGs withdrew from the airfield, they attacked other targets on the way back, including a goods train at the Mirpur railway station. A half hour later, they were safe and sound at Gauhati.
The escorts had little to do on these sorties for PAF Sabres had not shown up over Tezgaon for over three hours. That was soon to change with one last mission put up by the PAF.
THE LAST AIR COMBAT Back at Dum Dum, 14 Squadron was preparing for its last strike of the day on Tezgaon. The CO Sundaresan had returned from his second sortie of the day to Golanda Ghats and decided he would fly on the mission to locate and destroy the AR-1 radar at Tezgaon. After a quick lunch, Sundaresan and Flying Officer Kenneth Tremenhere took off at 1 p.m.
Their path took them along the southwest approaches to Dacca. Locating the AR-1 was easier said than done for its actual location was northwest of the airfield. The radar’s crew did its job well; they tracked Sundaresan’s formation coming in at low level and after verifying the skies were clear of other fighters, gave the scramble signal to Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain and Flying Officer Sahibzada Sajjad Noor on ORP.
Coming over the Zinjira area to the south of Dacca, Tremenhere spotted two Sabres ahead and radioed Sundaresan. As Tremenhere was closer, Sundaresan directed him to attack. Tremenhere led the formation in a turn to get behind the PAF Sabres.
The PAF leader Dilawar Hussain and his wingman had been directed by the radar controller to the battle area, where the Flunters were supposed to be at Dilawar’s eleven o’clock in the front). Dilawar tried desperately to locate the aircraft in his front quadrants but failed. Dilawar instinctively looked over his right shoulder and to his horror found two Hunters trying to get on his tail. He immediately broke into the attack. During the break, the Sabres split formation and the Hunters followed suit, with Tremenhere diving after Dilawar Hussain, and Sundaresan going after Sajjad Noor who climbed.
Dilawar was no novice in air combat. He lured Tremenhere into a slow turning fight and soon settled down behind him, tracking the Hunter cleanly in his gunsight. A small burst from his .50 guns set the left wing on Tremenhere’s Hunter ablaze. After struggling a while to get control of his Hunter, Tremenhere ejected.
Dilawar then looked around for the other Hunter flown by Sundaresan and found Sundaresan was on his wingman’s tail. Dilawar rushed to his wingman’s aid and the aircraft were now in a classic chukker: Noor’s Sabre was pursued by Sundaresan, who in turn was being chased by Dilawar.
Sundaresan was an excellent shot in the air and he had Sajjad Noor’s Sabre smack in his gun sight. A quick burst from his Hunter’s front guns severed the Sabre’s port outer wing and sent it diving out of control. Noor ejected safely.
Dilawar now tried to get Sundaresan in his sights. But the IAF CO was no slouch; with nearly 1,050 hours on the Hunter, Sundaresan was his equal in experience, and both aircraft were evenly matched in capabilities. The dogfight soon became a stalemate. After a few minutes, low on fuel, Sundaresan disengaged by diving away and flew back, landing at Dum Dum at around 1.50 p.m.Dilawar tried unsuccessfully to give chase but soon gave up.
Both pilots shot down in this combat had hairy experiences after ejection. Flying Officer Noor, the PAF pilot, came down in his parachute across the Buri Ganga River, south of Dacca, close to hostile positions and in danger of suffering the fate of his compatriots who had ejected in the morning air battles. However a PAF Alouette III was dispatched from Dacca, flown by Squadron Leader Sultan Khan and Flight Lieutenant Hamid Masood and carrying additional men from the Ground Combat Wing (GCW). Khan was able to locate and pick up Noor. The
Mukti Bahini had closed in on Noor and covering fire from the GCW soldiers was needed to retrieve him.
Kenneth Tremenhere meanwhile was surrounded by civilians as soon as he landed. As briefed, he brought out the ‘blood chit’, the Bangladeshi flag that was issued to all IAF pilots. However he was roughed up instantly; these civilians were sympathetic to the West Pakistan Army. Fortunately for him, he was rescued by Pakistan Army regulars. The same PAF helicopter which had rescued Sajjad Noor also picked up Tremenhere and flew him back to Tezgaon.
Sajjad Noor’s loss put paid to any additional effort from the PAF; 14 Squadron PAF decided to keep a low profile for the rest of the day.
LAST STRIKE OVER DACCA Alull followed for an hour and a half, which ended with the last raid of the day over Dacca at 3 p.m. IST. This was a formation of four MiG-21s from 28 Squadron led by Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh; the other pilots were Vinod Bhatia, V. Mehta and N.S. Malhi. The four rocket-laden MiGs were provided top cover by another two MiG-21s armed with K-13s; these were flown by ‘Dadoo’ Subaiya and C.D. Chandrasekhar, both on their third mission of the day.
Tezgaon airfield lay bare before the formation. There were no Sabres in sight, all having been dispersed under cover effectively. After a cursory pass, Manbir Singh decided there was little point in expending their rockets on the airfield and moved further south of Dacca, where the formation spotted what appeared to be a fuel dump, a train and a barge; it attacked and damaged all three.
The lack of PAF effort to intercept these formations may have been the result of the radar unit detecting the overwhelming strength of the incoming formations and the controllers wisely desisting from sending their Sabres up into unequal fights. Sajjad Noor’s loss an hour earlier may have played on the PAF’s fears as well. By now, visibility was poor with dusk fast approaching. The TAF called it a day, having flown nearly eighty sorties against the Dacca airfield complex.

The IAF had had flown additional counter air sorties outside Dacca, against Jessore and Ishurdi airfields, and the eight sorties against Chittagong in the morning. Chittagong airfield and its harbour were not attacked by the IAF again on the day. As agreed, the Indian Navy’s air arm, flying off the INS Vikrant aircraft carrier took on the responsibility of striking targets in that area. Their first mission of the war was launched at 10.55 a.m. (IST) against the Cox Bazar airfield. Eight Sea Hawks of INAS 300 (Indian Naval Air Squadron 300) attacked the ATC building, a power installation, fuel dumps and many vehicles. The navy’s sorties lasted twenty-five minutes with all aircraft recovered safely by 11.20 a.m.
As Eastern Air Command had confirmed to the navy that Chittagong did not have any fighters based, it was deemed safe to send another eight-aircraft strike against the airfield. This was carried out at 3.15 p.m.; the ATC Tower, several harbour installations, and various merchant marine ships were damaged.
RECAP A quick glance at the day’s operations shows a massive onslaught mounted by the Indian Air Force. The total number of counter air sorties against all airfield targets was 112, two-thirds of these against Tezgaon. Five aircraft were lost: two of them in air combat, the remaining three to AA fire. Five aircraft represented a heavy attrition rate. In addition to the five losses, at least two aircraft had close shaves with engines flaming out after landing, and another two returned badly damaged by Sabres.
Tezgaon appeared to be at the far end of the endurance of many of the IAF aircraft. Only the Hunters had enough endurance to go to Tezgaon and engage in air combat. The MiG’s effectiveness in air combat was limited due to its range and the lack of guns while the Sukhois were not intended to be used in an air combat role.
The IAF claimed five Sabres shot down-by Chatrath, Masand, Neb, Sukrut Raj and Sundaresan—and another three destroyed

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on the ground-by Sridharan and Nayyar of 221 Squadron. Their actual returns-three Sabres shot down in air combat and three civilian aircraft destroyed on the ground-fell far short of the TAF’s expectations. By the end of the day the PAF was still capable of mustering at least ten Sabres for operations. If the objective was to ‘shoot the Sabres down or destroy them on the ground’, then it would require another two to three days of trying to provoke the Sabres to come up into the air and then destroying them.
Wing Commander S. Kaul (CO 37 Squadron) summed it up:
We were forced to carry on repeatedly against Dacca, flying at extreme ranges, no real fuel. We were quick to determine that because there was only one squadron of Sabres, they had decided to defend Dacca and not interfere in our raids or anything like that. Dacca for them became a killing zone and we had Hunters coming all the way. So command decided to stop. All those losses that we suffered were not from any enemy aircraft, but just ground fire. We never expected such heavy ground fire; small .5 inch to 20 mm. It was like a barrage of ammunition dotting the sky and anyone who flew through that would have been lucky to get through. (Later in the war) I myself had many narrow escapes too many punctures in the wings and in the sides, but fortunately not hitting any of the vitals of the aircraft to dismember the aircraft or destroy it. Some went through the cockpit as well. We decided we will not hit Dacca at low level, because we were going against heavy flak.!
The IAF quickly deduced many of the ground claims for Sabres were dummy aircraft near the ORP. A few anti-aircraft guns were knocked out in these raids while the destruction of the civilian aircraft indirectly removed an avenue of escape for the Pakistani top brass. The loss of the PIA Twin Otter reduced by half the airlift capacity that the PAF had kept for an emergency escape.
Indian intelligence had provided scant information regarding the locations of dispersal area and aircraft pens (the pens were discovered, covered by nets, only after the war’s end). The use of rockets, therefore, could not be optimized. At any rate, it was
difficult to attack some of these targets in a single pass. Generally, in the first pass, the target was located and in the second, the pilot aligned himself to aim correctly. Unless the pilot could do both, all the effort, time, fuel, and risk taken in flying that sortie were wasted.
However, the heavy presence of aircraft over the skies of Dacca did have a psychological impact on Pakistani senior officers even though the lone PAF squadron, put in a position no other unit in the India-Pakistan wars had been, acquitted itself well. The squadron was able to pick its fights and send aircraft only when it felt its pilots stood a chance; a majority of incoming IAF attacks were forced to abort their raids. Otherwise, the PAF sat tight and let its AA guns do the hard work when the IAF came calling in numbers.
The Pakistani pilots claimed shooting down nine Indian aircraft in combat on the first day. They had over-claimed by four times as only two aircraft were lost to their efforts, those of K.D. Mehra and Kenneth Tremenhere. The other three losses of the day-Bhutani, Khonde and Samanta-were due to ground fire.
The Sabres were limited to the defence of Dacca airfield and kept so busy that there was no hope of them providing close air support to the Pakistan Army or mounting any counter air missions on IAF fields in the east.
One immediate assessment of the day was that there was little threat to IAF bases from the PAF. On 4 December, 111 sorties were flown by Gnats and Hunters on combat air patrols over airfields in the east; this amounted to 40 per cent of the sorties flown by EAC. The lack of response from the PAT and available intelligence emboldened EAC to relax CAPs on subsequent days and divert those aircraft for close support to the Indian Army.
More importantly, EAC was able to release several assets and transfer them to Western Air Command. These included twelve L-70 anti-aircraft guns defending Hashimara, which were flown by An-12s to Agra the next day. Two squadrons with EAC would also be released and moved to the west. The first of these was 30 Squadron (MiG-21s) based at Kalaikunda and Panagarh, which was ordered to move to Chandigarh. The squadron commenced its move on 5 December.
NOTES
Saddiq Salik, in Witness to Surrender confirms the damage done by the Otter. On page 134, he writes ‘Chittagong received the first impact of the war at 2.00 a.m. on 4 December when an enemy aircraft hit an oil reservoir. The next day a harmless looking light aircraft approached from the direction of the sea and lazily droned over the city. The razakars manning the coastal guns did not realize the danger until it blew up the Chittagong refinery. Next came a wave of five Canberras. The ad-hoc anti-aircraft battery was able to shoot down two of them.’ Salik’s reference to the raid ‘next day’ is probably to the Kilo Flight attack on the night of December 3/4. The reference to the Canberras could have been to the eightaircraft Hunter mission on the morning of 4 December. Sea Hawks from the Indian Navy also visited Chittagong in the later part of the same day. One of the Canberras may have strayed ten miles southeast of the intended target and dropped its bombs on the Adamjee Jute Mills in Narayanganj, causing civilian casualties in the workers’ housing areas. No reliable assessment of civilian casualties caused by aerial operations in East Pakistan is available. The West Pakistanis periodically released casualty figures during the war and also conducted press briefings on site at bombed-out areas; their numbers for the Adamjee casualties was 275 killed and 150 wounded. No independent verification for this figure is available; no post-war survey was carried out by the Bangladesh government that arrived at correct figures. Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Tail Choppers-50 Years of Excellence 1948-1998. PAF, Book Club, 2007, p. 94. Shaheen Foundation, The Story of the Pakistan Air Force: A Saga of Convage and Honour. Islamabad, Pakistan: Shaheen Foundation, 1988, p. 454. ‘Y&II’ stands for Young and Handsome’. Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Tail Choppers, p. 95. The official PAF history and Tail Choppers are in conflict on this score. While the official PAF history mentions the PAF CO, Wing Commander Chaudhary leading the first formation, Tuil Choppers does not mention the CO taking part in any sorties. Air Commodore Kaiser
Tufail confirms in an article on his blog (http://kaiser-acronaut. blogspot.com/2012/10/the-last-stand-air-war-1971.html) that Wing Commander Chaudhary did undertake the first CAP sortie of the day, followed by Dilawar Hussain.
Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Thil Choppers. 8. Dixon had not made any R/T calls about being hit. It is possible the
R/T call came from the second Hunter formation which was in the
area at the same time and was being engaged by Sabres as well. 9. Correspondence with Air Commodore Chatrath. 10. The “Bingo’ fuel state was the point at which the aircraft had the
minimum required fuel to fly straight to base and nowhere else. It was the point of no return in a mission. Once the bingo light is seen all pilots are to prioritize their safe return to base over everything
else. 11. As noted in Legend of the Tail Choppers: 50 Years of Excellence. 12. Correspondence with Wing Commander S.K. Kaul. 13. Air Marshal Inam-ul-Haq, then AOC Dacca, would later write that
Wing Commander S.M. Ahmed was seen landing on the ground safely but being escorted away by locals and presumably the Mukti Bahini, never to be seen again. http://imranhkhan.com/2009/11/17/
saga-of-paf-in-east-pakistan-1971/ 14. ‘Badguys’. 15. The ‘Sabres’ on the ORP turned out to be carefully constructed
decoys. 16. Though Sridharan claimed these aircraft as Sabres, it is most likely
these were either decoys or civilian aircraft. PAF records and Indian surveys confirm all Sabres with one exception accounted for on the ground. “The next pair to scramble, Flight Lieutenant Schames and Flying Officer Hamid Gul intercepted two Su-7s about three miles north of Dhaka. In their excitement both initially fired at the Sukhois out of range, but then Schames closed in to fire a second time. The Su-7s right wingtip started smoking but in full afterburner it still pulled away easily. The Su-7s, though far from being agile in air combat had the advantage of being able to disengage at will from pursuing Sabres, and this is what they did with the next CAP, flown by Flight Lieutenants Zaidi and Ata.’ (PAF History, 1988). This was the fifth mission of the day by the PAF Of the three Sukhoi missions against the Tezgaon complex, this was the only formation that encountered air opposition. 18. The pair of Sabres was the sixth mission of the day flown by the
PAF, by Flight Licutenant Iqbal Zaidi and Flight Lieutenant AtaUr-Rahman. Both reported intercepting a Hunter formation, and getting caught between two formations and fired at. Warned in time by the PAF radar controller, the PAF pilots broke off from the combat and returned without incident or claims. (Tufail, Kaiser, ‘The Last Stand’, http://kaiser-aeronaut.blogspot.com/2012/10/
the-last-stand-air-war-1971.html) 19. Cheema, Aamir, Muhammad Azam and Mushtaq Madni, History of
the Pakistan Army Aviation 1947-2008, Islamabad: Army Aviation
Directorate – Pakistan Army, 2008, p. 132. 20. This was certainly the decoy aircraft placed by the PAE 21. The exact time over target of this raid by Lele and Bajwa is
unfortunately not known; the placement of this description is an
approximation. 22. Khonde’s remains were recovered from the side of the runway after
the war. 23. Khonde’s aircraft was shot down by an AA gun manned by Captain
Sajjad and his team (Izzat O Iqbal, History of Pakistan Artillery
(1947-1971) School of Artillery, Naushera). 24. The gun camera footage from this attack was analysed by Flight
Lieutenant K.B. Menon, who commented ‘I remember analysing the camera film and we could see ground fire coming up towards
him during the dive attack but he persisted in the attack.’ 25. Correspondence with Jim P. Sterba, Wall Street Journal. Several
television cameramen filmed the whole sequence. 26. Authors’ interview. 27. CBS News archives show a Hunter over Dacca being hit by AA fire.
The Hunter starts emitting smoke but is clearly in a controllable state as it flies away. Presumably this footage shows Samanta’s
Hunter flying away. 28. Dilawar Hussain’s first-person account was published in Tail
Choppers: “To my horror I found two Hunters 5 o’clock at about 1,500 feet. I broke into them and after shaking them off our tails, settled down behind the trailing aircraft. Soon I was tracking the Hunter beautifully with my gunsight lying steadily on the canopy.

As I was about to press the trigger, I really do not remember for what reason, but I intentionally shifted the gun sight from the canopy to the left wing and fired a small burst. Moments later the left wing was set ablaze and started to trail smoke. Soon thereafter, I saw the canopy flying off and the pilot punching out of the
burning aircraft.’ 29. Sundaresan’s aircraft was BA-275, which was lost a week later on 10
December. 30. A comprehensive history of the Hawker Sea Hawk in Indian Navy
service can be found in Downwind, Four Green by Pasricha, Vice
Admiral Vinod, Pune: Pashmira Publications, 2012. 31. Interview with authors.
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FIVE
Close Air Support
The Early Days
Unlike the first two tasks of air defence and counter air, EAC’s third task to effectively support Indian army operations required a liaison and reporting organization to operate concurrently with the army’s order of battle. The Indian Army had drawn up its battle plans in July 1971: it aimed to occupy as much East Pakistani territory as possible before-just like the denouement of the 1965 war-international pressure induced a ceasefire. Its generals surmised the war was unlikely to last longer than three weeks and their war plans reflected this time frame. While it was unlikely Dacca could be taken so quickly, it still remained an objective so that the Indian Army could aggressively seek tactical and strategic advantage on the ground.
East Pakistan was irrigated by an extensive network of rivers. The most important of these, the Brahmaputra, streamed in from the north and joined the Ganga—known locally as the Padma-flowing in from the west. Both rivers rendezvoused with the Meghna flowing in from the northeast. To Dacca’s west lay the Jhenida Jessore-Khulna sector, bounded by the Padma, the Bay of Bengal, and the Indian border. The newly raised II Corps, commanded by Lieutenant General T.N. Raina MVC, bore operational responsibility here. It comprised two divisions: 4 Mountain Division, which would advance in the Jhenida sector and 9 Infantry Division, which would operate further south in the Jessore sector. No. 9 Tactical Air Centre (9 TAC) was assigned to II Corps.
North of the Jessore sector, the Rajshahi-Hilli sector—the perennial soft underbelly of the Indian Army facing the Chinese in the north—was bounded by the Indian border, the Brahmaputra, and the Padma. Since 1962, XXXIII Corps had operated in the Siliguri sector to counter Chinese moves from Sikkim, Commanded by Lieutenant General M.L. Thapan, it continued to be tasked with sector operations here. No. 3 TAC, commanded by Group Captain Bakshish Singh, was collocated with the Corps HQ at Sukna. In response to the Chinese threat, XXXIII Corps committed a single division supported by an independent infantry brigade.
Meanwhile, IV Corps, commanded by Lieutenant General Sagat Singh, was entrusted with territory east of the Meghna River, stretching from the Sylhet region in northeast East Pakistan, down to the Chittagong Hill Tracts. IV Corps’ area of responsibility was the largest. It employed three army divisions for its operations. No. 5 TAC was collocated with its advance HQ at Teliamura. Since IV Corps also bore additional responsibility for the Chinese front, No. 2 TAC was moved from Bareilly to collocate with IV Corps’ HQ at Tezpur.
The last sector, bounded by the Indian state of Meghalaya in the north, the Brahmaputra River in the west, and the Meghna River in the east, was the responsibility of a static formation, No. 101 Communication Zone (CZ), which did not have a TAC centre associated with it. Instead, EAC HQ would deal with its targets directly. This sector did not feature in the army’s time-bound plans for limited battle before an internationallyenforced ceasefire; its inaccessibility by road or rail, and its lack of staging areas meant 101 CZ’s sector received the least priority in invasion plans. CLOSE AIR SUPPORT ORGANIZATION Unlike 1965, the IAF’s close air support in the 1971 operations focused on allowing TAC centres to concentrate on particular squadrons to enable pilot familiarity with local terrain and operations. Each squadron involved in close air support was assigned an area of responsibility dependent on the range of aircraft and their operational airbase. The following structure was constituted in the war plans:

Chittagong Hill Tracts, the southernmost areas of East Pakistan, which were bordered by the Bay of Bengal and Burma, were out of reach for MiG-21s, Gnats or Sukhoi-7s. The Hunter alone had the legs to fly to Chittagong and back but its offensive effectiveness was limited to using front guns with no additional ordnance.
While IAF Gnats were not supposed to function in a close support role, the destruction of Pakistani air offensive capabilities freed them for precisely that role. However their limited range required their concentration in two hubs: 22 Squadron, later joined by 15 Squadron, would be based at Dum Dum and operate under No. 9 TAC in the II Corps Sector, while a detachment of 24 Squadron operating from Kumbhirgram would fly in support of IV Corps in the Sylhet region.
REQUIREMENTS OF THE NAVY During the Chiefs of Staff discussions on 23 November, the Indian Navy requested EAC undertake a reconnaissance mission to Chittagong before noon on D-Day to confirm the absence of PAF fighters. If the reconnaissance sorties revealed fighters in Chittagong, the IAF would be responsible for strikes. If not, the navy’s Sea Hawks would strike Chittagong. The navy also requested the ports of Chandpur and Golando Ghats-and any operational Pakistan Navy crafts found there-be attacked by the IAR While the Indian Navy assumed responsibility for all targets south of 22° 15 N, the IAF would take over if it was unable to move its aircraft carrier INS Vikrant into position. Civilian assets whose destruction was unlikely to assist in the military takeover of East Pakistan were not to be attacked but preserved for postwar governance.
When hostilities commenced, the IAF had mounted the first strike against Chittagong using 14 Squadron’s Hunters. Once the absence of PAF fighters was confirmed, the Indian Navy was given the go-ahead to commence operations and the IAF was relieved of the need to keep Chittagong contained.
The ground war began in earnest on 4 December. Till then Indian troops had operated within East Pakistani territory
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under restrictions. With the official declaration of war, these were removed and the Indian Army’s ground offensive kicked off in earnest.
II CORPS The Indian Army’s primary thrust was carried out by II Corps, led by Lieutenant General T.N. Raina. Its constituent forces, 4th Mountain Division and 9th Infantry Division-operating in a sector whose excellent rail and road communications made it the centrepiece of operations-stood the best chance of making it to Dacca. Several important objectives lay en route. Il Corps would, in particular, launch a major offensive on the city of Jessore, next in importance only to Dacca, especially as it offered an airfield which could be turned around for IAF operations. Il Corps’ tasks included the capture or isolation of the towns of Jhenida, Magura, and Jessore, and the ferry sites at Faridpur and Golando Ghats, river crossings from which it would be possible to threaten Dacca.
The Pakistani 9th Division, led by Major General M.H. Ansari, with two brigades focused on Jhenida and Jessore, faced II Corps. II Corps’ units had already made incursions into East Pakistan; the deepest of these was at Garibpur in late November where the battle for Boyra had developed.
XXXIII CORPS Operations in the north-western sector in East Pakistan, north of the Padma River, and bounded by the Brahmaputra-Jamuna Rivers in the east, were entrusted to the Indian Army’s XXXIII Corps commanded by Lieutenant General M.L. Thapan. The Corps was based along the Sikkim border with China. For the course of operations, it moved one division, 20th Mountain Division, commanded by Major General L.S. Lehl, to the Siliguri corridor to operate in the Hilli area. An additional independent brigade-71st Mountain Brigade-operated in support.
Unlike the other two major sectors, XXXIII Corps’ operational area was not considered of strategic value, as it did not provide a quick route to Dacca or other towns or cities whose capture
would be of propaganda value. The sector, however, did house the largest chunk of Pakistan Army, as well as the bulk of Pakistani armour. Any activity undertaken by the Indian Army would at best be a holding action.
IV CORPS IV Corps of the army’s Eastern Command, raised just before the 1962 war, was responsible for defending Assam and the northcastern states against Chinese actions on the border. However, this was not all. The corps had also fought against home-grown insurgencies in Mizoram and Nagaland. To prepare for its 1971 operations, the corps was split: the rear Corps HQ was based at Tezpur in Assam and the main Corps HQ at Teliamura, near Agartala, in Tripura. Its area of responsibility for operations in East Pakistan was east of the Meghna River, a natural line of defence for the Dacca area, encompassing the Sylhet sector in the northeast to the Chandpur sector in the east to the Chittagong Hill tracts to the south.
IV Corps was made up of three divisions-8, 23 and 57 Mountain Divisions—with supporting elements in armour, an independent brigade, and several East Bengal infantry battalions. The three divisions were tasked with the Sylhet, Comilla and Chandpur sectors respectively. Their opponents would be the Pakistan Army’s 14 Division in Sylhet and 39 Division in the Chandpur-Mainamati sector. Commanded by Lieutenant General Sagat Singh, IV Corps was to aggressively occupy territory with an emphasis on capturing Chandpur just across the Meghna, which controlled the waterway connecting Dacca.
Like other sectors, this was crisscrossed by several rivers and other waterbodies, the largest being the Meghna, which flowed from the northeast to the south across the Sylhet, Comilla and Chandpur sectors.
IV Corps held a crucial advantage over the other corps in the eastern sector: it held all helicopter assets for air lift duties. The Hunter detachment at Kumbhirgram and MiGs operating from Gauhati would provide it with close air support. Negotiations
with the TAC ensured MiGs would be used against targets west of the Meghna, Hunters and Gnats for targets to the cast.
Nevertheless, the southern part of IV Corps’ sector, which included the Chittagong Hill Tracts, was worryingly lacking in air support. The Indian Navy had promised support from Sea Hawks flying off the INS Vikrant, but it was dependent on that fleet being available for CAS. Most importantly, naval pilots had little experience operating with forward air controllers (FACS) embedded by the IAF in army formations.
One solution was to capture Shamshernagar airfield, just across the border from Kailashahar, and to move IAF Hunters there. However the airfield was unsuitable for Hunters and ultimately was not used. Eventually, gaps in close air support were closed when the IAF moved Gnats to Agartala, giving them greater endurance over forward areas as battle lines moved further west towards Dacca.
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT ON 4 DECEMBER Even though the bulk of EAC’s operations on the first day focused on either air defence or counter air operations, approximately 20 per cent-fifty sorties of its operations were devoted to interdiction and close air support across all sectors.
Twenty-three of these missions were interdiction missions against infrastructure and transportation modes behind Pakistani lines. In particular, 14 Squadron from Dum Dum targeted ferries and railway yards. Furthermore, as 14 Squadron was solely responsible for targets identified by the navy-Chittagong airfield, the Chandpur and Golanda Ghats ferries–they were denied air battles over Dacca for most of the day.!
The first strike of the day-flown by Flight Lieutenants J.S. Sidhu and Kenneth Tremenhere at 7.30 a.m.-was directed at Chandpur Ferry in the IV Corps sector (meanwhile, away in Chittagong, the airfield came under attack). The pilots successfully located and attacked their targets despite the heavy haze. Besides the ferry, the pilots destroyed a goods train and a storage oil tank.

Over the course of the morning, the squadron launched six sorties against the Golanda Ghats ferry. The CO, Wing Commander Sundaresan, led the first strike of two aircraft, followed by a strike of four aircraft led by Kenneth Tremenhere. These sorties only faced small-arms fire in opposition.
To aid II Corps in their sector, 221 Squadron (Sukhois) flew eleven close air support missions and a few photo recce sorties. The first of these was flown against targets near Jessore by Flight Lieutenants H.V. ‘Hemu’ Khatu and R. Malhotra. By day’s end, another five missions had been flown by the squadron.
4 SQUADRON OPERATIONS While 28 Squadron remained focused on counter air sorties against Tezgaon, one section of 4 Squadron focused on providing support to army formations in 8 Mountain Division’s operational sector.
The first call for close air support was against a Pakistan Army HQ in Mahendraganj. Squadron Leader Suresh Jiggy Ratnaparki, posted to the squadron just before the war, led the strike. His wingmen were Flight Lieutenants Hemant ‘Ilemu’ Sardesai and ‘Rusty Tyagi, and Flying Officer Ajit Bhavnani. The MiGs were armed with two rocket pods, each carrying sixteen 57 mm rockets. The strike had mixed success and the pilots were unsure whether their attacks had hit home.
On their return, they were debriefed by Group Captain Wollen, then shuttling his attention between the counter air missions against Tezgaon and the army’s close support requirements. On hearing from Sardesai that he had sighted the target but had not been able to attack, Wollen ordered another strike, again to be led by Sardesai, later in the day.
But first, the formation was sent to provide close support in Maulvi Bazaar, just across the Tripura border. On return, as tasked earlier, the pilots repeated the day’s first strike. Only three aircraft could carry out the mission as Tyagi’s aircraft malfunctioned. However, Sardesai, Ratnaparki and Bhavnani carried out the mission successfully.

THE BATTLE AXES AND XXXIII CORPS Of the Hunter units in the east, 7 Squadron, based at Bagdogra, was the furthest from Dacca. Hence, it did not carry out any counter air missions against Tezgaon on the first day, but it did undertake several close support and interdiction sorties in the XXXIII Corps area in the north-western sector. The squadron pilots had been briefed the previous evening; the Co, Wing Commander B.A. ‘Bunny’ Coelho personally ensured the bar in the officers’ mess did not serve more than three drinks to any of his pilots!
On the morning of 4 December, at the meteorological and army GLO’s briefing, the pilots were issued their personal revolvers, twelve rounds of ammunition, and a Bangladeshi flag to be used as the ‘blood chit?
The first strike, consisting of four Hunters armed with rockets, was led by the CO, Wing Commander Coelho, and launched against the bridge over river Teesta. En route, the pilots found a Pakistan army supply train and destroyed it using front guns. On arriving at Teesta Bridge, the formation attacked its spans with T-10 rockets. The bridge, a stubborn customer, was only partially knocked down before the formation had to turn back to

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Bagdogra, its stores depleted. Coelho later led a second mission to Lal Munir Hat airfield but there were no targets-other than the control tower—to be found.
As Coelho’s formation had reported the Teesta Bridge was only partially destroyed, another mission was planned to deliver the coup de grace. Squadron Leader S.K. Gupta, the flight commander, and Flight Lieutenant Andre Rudolph Da Costa, were to fly this mission. Gupta, who had flown on the earlier strike, was familiar with the target area. It would prove an expensive mission for the IAE
Gupta and Da Costa took offshortly after lunch and on reaching the target, successfully destroyed the parts of the bridge-two pillars–that were still standing. On the return leg to Bagdogra, Gupta picked up a R/T call from a forward air controller with 20 Mountain Division, who directed the pilots to a target near the Lal Munir Hat railway station, where Indian forward troops were facing stiff opposition.
On arriving at the target, one well defended by light AA guns, the pilots carried out a diving front gun attack in tactical formation During the attack dive, Gupta felt his aircraft shudder as it was hit by AA fire. He managed to control the aircraft and looked to his right to check if Da’Costa was in position. Da’Costa’s Hunter, 200 feet behind to the right, had been hit and was trailing a huge black plume of smoke. Alarmingly, it was in a shallow dive, steadily dropping lower. Gupta called out twice to Da Costa to eject, but there was no response. Gupta could only watch in mute horror as the stricken Hunter flew into the ground and exploded.
Gupta’s thoughts about his wingman’s tragic fate were soon cut short. His aircraft had suffered hits in the left wing and the ailerons were jammed. He now struggled to keep his aircraft level even as the drag from the damaged left wing kept rolling the Hunter to the left. Gupta maintained full power, flying in a westerly direction to the border, but the wing’s drag kept his airspeed at 130 to 150 knots. After a few minutes of struggling with the aircraft, with a fire starting in the left wing, the Hunter was near uncontrollable. Ejection loomed. Gupta knew he was close to the Indian border but still within East Pakistan; he sent out a mayday call even as he pulled the handle and jettisoned his canopy.
Gupta came down in East Pakistani territory that might have been either under Indian or Pakistan army control. Luckily for Gupta, as he landed, an IAF Alouette III (Z359) arrived to rescue him. After picking up Gupta and entering Indian territory, the helicopter pilot lifted his visor. Gupta recognized his saviour as Flight Lieutenant Kapoor, his former pupil at the IAF’s academy, who fortuitously had heard Gupta’s mayday call, spotted his parachute and pinpointed the pick-up location.’ Kapoor flew to Bagdogra Army Hospital where Gupta would receive first aid. Kapoor had more than adequately rendered his gurudakshina (tribute to teacher) to Gupta.
7 Squadron sent in another two aircraft-flown by the flight commander, Squadron Leader A.D. Alley and his wingman, Flying Officer Mohan Dikshit—to make sure the Teesta Bridge was done for. They bombed the southern portion of the bridge successfully. Later, 7 Squadron accounted for a bulk petroleum depot at Sibganj.
The two Hunters lost in Gupta’s ill-fated mission were the only losses to occur on a close support mission on the first day.” Andre Da’Costa’s loss was a heart-breaking one for his squadron and family. His wife Sandra was living on the base with their children; the squadron officers were entrusted with the grim task of informing her of his fate. Still, as there was no confirmation of Da’Costa’s death, some of his squadron mates held on to the faint hope he had survived.
On the first day, the IAF’s Eastern Command flew fifty-five ground attack sorties in support of the army, far fewer than the 112 counter air strikes against the PAF’s air assets. On the first day of operations, there was little ‘immediate demand’ from army formations and most sorties were against targets like ghats, ferries and railway marshalling yards. 14 Squadron was particularly successful in destroying all transportation centres assigned as targets.

Still, 57 Mountain Division, waiting to attack Akhaura was promised air support that never came. In the end, the attack had to commence without the IAF showing up; this occurred in other sectors as well. The IAF had been so embroiled in the air war over Dacca it was not able to devote complete attention to the army’s requirements on 4 December.
5 DECEMBER: COUNTER AIR MISSIONS Counter air missions over Dacca started with a night raid on the Tezgaon and Kurmitola airfields by Canberras flying from Gorakhpur, four of which carried out another hi-lo-hi mission, each dropping 8,000 lb bombs. But as on the previous day, the high-level bombing by the Canberras was ineffective and no damage was done either to the runway or the airfield installations at both bases.
Daytime brought a change of tactics. In spite of the IAF’s numerous raids, little had been achieved in terms of destroying PAF Sabres on the ground. Air combat efforts seemed more encouraging: five Sabres had been claimed downed.
The Hunters had done well on the first day, shooting down three Sabres, with MiGs claiming an unconfirmed kill. The MiGs, though, had been ineffective due to the uselessness of their K-13 missiles in tight turning dogfights. The ideal aircraft to take on the Sabres might have been the Sukhoi-7, armed with the powerful NR-30 mm cannon, and the use of reheat to out-climb and out manoeuvre the Sabres, it could have been an effective weapon in the hands of an experienced pilot flying from Gauhati.” However the Sukhois operating from Panagarh were flying at the extreme limits of their range when attacking Tezgaon and their task roster was filled with demands from Il Corps.
As an alternate strategy to denude the PAF’s Sabre assets, the IAF decided to send 17 and 37 Squadrons’ Hunters to Tezgaon to lure the Sabres into the air. Four aircraft from each squadron would attempt to lure up Sabres over Tezgaon at 0730; the superior numbers of the Hunters would supposedly help them dominate.
Wing Commander S.K. Kaul led the 37 Squadron formation with ‘Billu’ Sangar, Harish Masand and A.M. Mascarenhas; a four-aircraft formation from 17 Squadron followed. However the PAF did not take the bait. Possibly warned by AR-1 radar about their disadvantage in numbers, the PAF declined battle. The formation returned to Hashimara without firing its guns. Another mission was flown by the Hunters from Hashimara at 10 a.m. to Tezgaon. Two MiG-21s of 28 Squadron on ORP, flown by Flying Officers Raghavachari and V. Mehta, were scrambled from Gauhati to provide top cover to the Hunters. The MiGs and Hunters returned by 10.50 a.m.
The Gnats of 22 Squadron spent most of the second day on air patrols over Kalaikunda and Dum Dum. As but one example, Flying Officer Sunith Soares did three CAPs: two over Kalaikunda and one over Dum Dum, all operating from Dum Dum. The fourth sortie of the day took him over Dacca on an armed patrol. No Sabres came out to play and the Gnat pilots returned to Dum Dum disappointed. The Gnats would have been seen clearly on the PAF radar, but were deliberately- and probably wisely-not engaged by the PAE As it became clear there was little threat of air attack, IAF squadrons began switching from air defence to close air support and counter air offensive.
The PAF did little other than send Sabres as escorts for Pakistan army helicopters. A brief aerial encounter took place when two F-86s flown by Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain and Flying Officer Gul attempted to intercept two Sukhois, but were not able to keep up. These Sukhois were piloted by Flight Lieutenants Rajiv Mendharkar and Pandy Pandit on a photo recce sortie from Panagarh to Tezgaon. Both eluded the Sabres effortlessly and returned safely.
While attempts at luring the Sabres into battle continued, other options at neutralizing air opposition were investigated. As the MiG squadrons had been assigned the counter air offensive directed at Tezgaon, the IAF Operations Commander, Group Captain Mally Wollen met his squadron COs, Wing Commanders B.K. Bishnoi and J.V. Gole for extensive discussions. One task
was to destroy the AR-1 radar, the cause of many aborted IAF strikes; the other, obviously, was to destroy the remaining Sabres. The MiG’s rocket attacks on Tezgaon had achieved very little on 4 December. The Sabres were cleverly camouflaged on the ground and were difficult to locate. When they did take to the air, the MiGs were found ineffective: whenever the K-13s were fired, they either missed, or did not operate correctly.
There was another weapon in the IAF’s arsenal though the Russian-manufactured FAB-500 M-62 bomb, the only free-fall weapon in the IAF’s Russian fighters’ inventory. The M-62, designed in 1962 and classified years later as a ‘Penetrator’ bomb, was an unknown entity in the Indian subcontinent. About 2.47m long, and 40 cm in diameter, it weighed 500 kg (1,102 lb) with an explosive content of 300 kg. Its elongated and streamlined shape reduced wind resistance, enabling high speeds during delivery.
Though most IAF MiG-21 and Sukhoi squadrons were equipped with the M-62, its capabilities were not fully realized among all units. The MiG squadrons at Gauhati were a different matter. Wollen had procured documentation on the M-62s prior to the war and realized it would make an effective and particularly devastating weapon against even a hardened runway. The fusing of these bombs would have to be set according to the documentation:
The fuse setting is set by the armourers in the armament section and brought to the aircraft at the dispersal. It is inserted into the bomb so you never see it. But the settings are given. We had the correct settings on the fuse for the runway strengths at Tezgaon and Kurmitola. All this was available in the literature. But even though it was in the literature, maybe only thirty per cent would have known about it and would have implemented it. The other seventy per cent wouldn’t. After the war I was asked by people as to how we did it… I had the documentation with me and I showed them that!
In addition to the delayed detonation fuse setting, selected pilots from the three MiG squadrons-4, 28, and 30 Squadrons-had
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practised steep-glide bombing with the M-62 bombs prior to the war on the Lal Mukh range. While the bombs and its capabilities were known to a few, the true novelty lay in the delivery methods for runways:
The M-62s…were well-built bombs. When you dropped two of them, both went together simultaneously (without drifting left or right). The trajectory was very good. They moved only a few feet, and they were very accurate. If we wanted to get an aircraft to bomb the runway, the pilot would fly lengthwise and pick the further end of the runway as the aiming point, because the pilot will get a sense of feeling to the way the wind is affecting the run. The aircraft can drift slightly left or right and he can decide if the bomb will hit the runway or not. So, if you are coming down the runway in a steep dive, going to the further end, you could always place your bombs on the runway and that was exactly what we had done earlier and that was what was briefed. Many people assume that the bomb will drift because of the wind, but they do not. It does not depend on the wind. And these bombs would still support the aiming even in a forty-five-degree steep dive. So that was exactly what we used in the raids.
While the accuracy and effectiveness of the bombs increased in a steep-glide dive along the runway length, it also made it easier for the defending guns to predict the path of the attacking aircraft, especially if all aircraft were to attack from the same fixed direction. The safer alternative of attacking in level flight from multiple directions was dismissed as too inaccurate.
Bishnoi suggested the bombs be tested against the runway at Kurmitola- which had fewer defending guns, and correspondingly sparser fire-than Tezgaon. Wollen assessed the risks, decided losses, if any, would be acceptable and gave the go ahead. However, before that strike, the bombs were to be used more conventionally: for bombing the PAF’s AR-1 radar at Tezgaon.
Both 28 Squadron and 4 Squadron were fully occupied by army demands for close air support most of the day. The first sortie that could be spared to go to Tezgaon took to the air after noon. The
strike, led by Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill, consisted of two MiGs armed with the M-62 bombs, with another two MiGs armed with K-13s flying as escorts. The initial take-off time of 12.30 p.m. was scrubbed when one of the escorts to be flown by Squadron Leader S.K. Behal failed to start. The ground crew immediately attended to the problem enabling the formation to take off at 1.06 p.m. Within half an hour the MiGs were over Tezgaon.
Behal and C.D. Chandrasekhar set up orbit to tackle any Sabres that ventured out while Gill and Vinod Bhalla swooped lower to identify the elusive AR-1 radar. Unknown to them, the AR-1 was a few miles away at Mirpur Zoo; unsurprisingly, positive identification of the radar was impossible. Many installations at Tezgaon were camouflaged, from vehicles to open blast pens. Identifying a radar among them seemed unlikely. The pilots identified what they thought was the radar position, dropped their bombs, and returned to make no claims about the radar’s destruction. The PAF radar would continue to operate untouched for the rest of the war.
Back at base, Group Captain Mally Wollen and Wing Commander B.K. Bishnoi had planned the bombing trial using the M-62s and picked Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh for the mission:
On 5th December around 3p.m. I was called by my squadron commander Wing Commander B.K. Bishnoi and the base commander Group Captain M.S.D. Wollen and was briefed to carry out a steep glide bombing attack against Kurmitola airfield runway at Dacca. This was to be a trial mission to assess the effectiveness of steep glide bombing attack on a concrete runway. I was to take Flight Licutenant C.D. Chandrasekhar (CD) as my number two. We were to be escorted by two other pilots Flight Lieutenant (Chick) Bapat and Flying Officer Vinod Bhatia. The strike aircraft were equipped with two 500-kg M62 bombs and the escort aircraft were equipped with two K-13 missiles.
We took off at 1539 hours from Gauhati and headed south towards Dacca. We flew low over the hills and descended down to the plains on East Pakistan. CD and I were flying at 100 mtrs height and 1,000 mtrs apart. The two escort aircraft were behind us. When we were about a kilometre or two short of Kurmitola airfield I pulled up to a height of 3,000 mtrs in order to go into a 45-degree dive for the attack. The attack was from the north along the runway 18.
I went into the dive and put my sight on the middle of the runway and on the centre line. My sighting was very unsteady. The sight was moving in a pendulum effect and I could not hold it on the target. I was losing height rapidly and therefore aborted the attack before I could attain the required conditions to drop the bombs.”
The pendulum effect was due to the oscillation induced by the MiG-21 rolling out burdened by bombs under the wings, behaviour unknown to IAF pilots. Manbir Singh continues:
During the attack I saw puffs of smoke around me. These were being formed by anti-aircraft gun shells bursting all around me. I informed CD that I had not released my bombs and told him to release his bombs if his sighting was ok. CD released his bombs and I saw them hit the link taxi track on the east side of the runway. I then once again went into a steep glide attack and this time I held the sight at the right place on the runway and when I was at 1,000 mtrs height I released the bombs and pulled out from the dive at four to five G force. The bombs hit the runway smack in the centre. The results of the bombing were seen by the escort aircraft that were orbiting the airfield above us.
After the attack I turned hard left and saw the mushroom formed by the bursting bombs. I continued to turn left and headed north towards Gauhati. CD and the escort aircraft joined up with me. During the attacks we did not encounter any air opposition. However there was heavy anti-aircraft gunfire. Luckily none of us got hit by it. On the flight back I got a call from the command operations room at Shillong. They wanted to know the results of the bombing. When I gave them the result I was congratulated with a ‘Good show! We returned to Gauhati at 1623 hours.
With EAC eager to know the results of the trials, 221 Squadron sent a Sukhoi-7 to carry out a photo run over Kurmitola. It landed at Gauhati where the film was developed; the photographs were then flown to command operations room at Shillong by helicopter. The IAF’s chain of command was pleased with the results; the MiG pilots at Gauhati now knew what to do to render Dacca’s Sabres inoperable.
The bombing of Kurmitola had been merely the curtain raiser. The PAF learned about the Kurmitola bombing by day’s end, but failing to realize its significance had no inkling of what was to follow.
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT TO II CORPS AND XXXIII CORPS Unsurprisingly, as the Indian Army made inroads into East Pakistan on the second day of operations, its demands for close air support increased; these were largely concentrated in II Corps (west) and IV Corps’ (east) sectors.
In response, 14 Squadron flew twenty-five close support and interdiction sorties against Lakshyam railway yards, Abdullapur, Lal Munir Hat and Jessore. A dozen of these were abandoned for lack of worthwhile targets; the major achievement for the day was the destruction of several rail locomotives at the Lakshyam yards.
By day’s end, 14 Squadron directly supported the army’s line of advance. Four Hunters led by Wing Commander Sundaresan, with K.S.Sidhu as No. 2, the other section consisting of Squadron Leader M.K. Kashav and S.K. Chopra, dropped napalm, a first for the IAF, on Pakistan army gun positions near Jessore. An earlier sortie by two aircraft to Jessore had returned without finding any targets. This time, the formation bombed positions pointed to by the FAC and carried out a planned night landing at Dum Dum at 5.40 p.m.
At 4.30 p.m., just before nightfall, four Canberras from 16 Squadron attacked Pakistani troop concentrations. These Canberras had flown from Gorakhpur to Dum Dum at 2 p.m. After refuelling, they took off for Jessore, dropped 30,000 lb
bombs on Pakistani ground positions, and flew back to Gorakhpur. The Canberras were escorted by Gnats of 22 Squadron at Dum Dum.
A BULLET IN THE LEG Meanwhile 221 Squadron was providing close air support to 9 Division’s leading elements. The squadron mounted fourteen sorties, attacking a Pakistani Brigade HQ at Jhenida, gun positions at Jessore and troop concentrations at Faridpur. The attack on the brigade HQ was led by Wing Commander Sridharan, with Flight Lieutenants Vijay Joshi, P.S. Pingali and D.C. Nayyar in tow. The brigade HQ was claimed destroyed during a mission that was otherwise uneventful. The next mission, requested by the local TAC on a Pakistan army gun position at Jessore, was not
Squadron Leader O.N. Wadhwan and Flight Lieutenant V.K. ‘Vindy’ Chawla responded to the TAC call, and headed to the target armed with rockets and front guns. This was the second sortie of the war for Chawla; he had flown his first the previous day.
Wadhwan and Chawla, flying in from Panagarh, would do a left-handed circuit on nearing Jessore to stay out of range of its anti-aircraft guns. They arrived at their destination, and carried out their rocket attacks successfully. They then set course for Panagarh, flying at low level. Just short of the border Chawla called out on the R/T, Pop, I’m hit! Wadhwan was caught by surprise; there were no heavy AA guns around for miles. Unknown to him, a well-directed light machine gun burst had hit Chawla’s aircraft; a bullet had penetrated the cockpit and struck him squarely in the leg.
Wadhwan called out to Chawla to climb to 2,000 feet: it was difficult for an injured pilot to control the aircraft at low level and the additional height would let Chawla prepare for an ejection if needed. Wadhwan informed the local signal unit about his wingman’s predicament and asked for a CAP if needed. The signal unit responded in the affirmative and told them their tail was clear.
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Chawla was still responsive and his aircraft appeared to be operating normally. Wadhwan instructed Chawla to try and make it to home base. Wadhwan pushed forward his throttle, hoping to return to Panagarh speedily, but soon noticed Chawla was lagging. Chawla, in pain, and bleeding profusely, was having a difficult time keeping Wadhwan in sight and maintaining formation. Finally in response to another call from Wadhwan asking him to keep up, Chawla asked Wadhwan to fall back.
Wadhwan understood Chawla’s predicament and eased down his throttle. As his Sukhoi came abeam to his wingman’s, Chawla gave him a thumbs up. But Chawla was struggling to maintain his height, speed and heading. Chawla did not know his Sukhoi was streaming fuel; Wadhwan had noticed but hesitated to tell Chawla. Wadhwan called Panagarh and asked for medical personnel to be ready. After what seemed like an eternity, both the pilots caught sight of their base and Wadhwan instructed Chawla to do a direct approach. As Chawla lined up with the runway, Wadhwan came abreast, giving him corrections, and shepherding him in. As Chawla’s aircraft touched down, a relieved Wadhwan opened his throttle to go around.
By the time he made his circuit and landed, ambulances had reached Chawla’s aircraft on the tarmac. Chawla, in a last burst of energy, opened the canopy and tried to get out on his own steam, but his legs gave way underneath him as soon as he stood up.
After landing, Wadhwan parked his Sukhoi in a pen about half a kilometre away. By the time he made it to Chawla’s aircraft, Chawla had been loaded into an ambulance and taken to the military hospital in Calcutta. Though Chawla was out of action for the rest of the war, his aircraft was patched up and fighting fit in a couple of days.
In total, thirty-five sorties were flown in support of II Corps; eighteen by 14 Squadron, four by 16 Squadron’s Canberras and the rest by 221 Squadron’s Sukhois. The few sorties flown directly in support of XXXIII Corps were flown by squadrons based at Bagdogra.
15 Squadron’s Gnats carried out several search and destroy
missions in the Hilli sector, these were directed against attempts by the Pakistan Army to use civilian motor transports. It then became standard practice for the Gnats to make a low pass over any vehicles moving in the open to give its occupants, whether civilians or Pakistan Army, a chance to get out and take cover. This warning was followed by rocket attacks.
Despite the loss of the two Hunters the previous day, 7 Squadron continued their attacks on enemy troop positions, gun positions and armour at Bogra, Pabna, Hilli and Sirajganj. Anti-aircraft fire hit a couple of aircraft but no major damage was incurred. 7 Squadron’s Flying Officer H.K. Singh carried out a spectacular attack on a troop train, whose shredding under the impact of the Hunters’ cannon shells was indelible:
The firepower of the Hunter’s four 30 mm Aden guns using high explosive (HE) ammo (not used before in practice firing on the range) was deadly. When I fired a three to four second burst on the train nothing happened for a second and then the bogie just blew off the rails. Why was this train moving about in the day? By the time we swung around for the second pass, we drew heavy small arms fire. Some bullet holes were later found under my wing but not in any critical area. So this was a troop train which needed to move urgently enough to risk day movement.
That evening when thinking of the front gun burst on the train, I realized that I may have killed some people. But when I recalled the many flashes from the ground near the target on which I was firing in a dive, I said to myself, they were trying to get me too. Those flashes were real anti-aircraft fire. It was a matter of one getting the other.2
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT FOR IV CORPS The 5 TAC’s stated requirements of supporting IV Corps ensured most close air support missions were flown in the eastern IV Corps sector, in particular in Akhaura sector (57 Division) and Maulvi Bazar area (8 Division), which received the most attention.
The first sortie was launched from Gauhati at 8 a.m.; Squadron Leader S.K. Behal led a four-aircraft mission to Maulvi Bazaar and
Kalaura railway station, carrying out rocket attacks on bunkers, trenches, and weapon pits. 28 Squadron followed up with eleven sorties, claiming mortars, gun positions, infantry positions. Almost five hundred 57 mm rockets hit Pakistani forces in the Maulvi Bazar sector, weakening both the morale as well as the effectiveness of the ground troops.
The Hunter detachment at Kumbhirgram was not to be left behind; its five aircraft carried out twelve strike missions against Pakistan army positions in Akhaura and Brahmanbaria.
As there was little air opposition, the Gnats were under utilized in flying CAPs. The 24 Squadron detachment based at Kumbhirgram, led by Wing Commander Ravi Badhwar decided to make themselves useful by flying its first close air support missions. Two Gnats led by the CO took off for a strike in the Sylhet area.
Over the battle area, they established contact with Flying Officer ‘Stan’ Khanna, also from 24 Squadron. Khanna was excited to be directing his first air strike, especially one flown by

his CO. He ably guided the two Gnats to attack Pakistani troops hiding in a mango grove. As the strike pulled up, Khanna asked the CO if he could see a white building. He wanted the Gnats to attack the grove which was about 500 m from the building. The CO radioed back that he could see the building, but not the grove. He then decided he would make a second pass.
A frustrated Khanna told the CO to hit the white building as some movement was also observed there. Badhwar acknowledged the call and turned for a strike on the building. Trying to gauge his gunsight, Badhwar inadvertently pressed the firing button instead of the camera button. The four ‘T-10 rockets fired without being properly aimed and scored a direct hit on the mango grove, prompting a jubilant Khanna to pipe up on the R/T ‘Excellent shooting sir! You got a direct hit on the mango grove!’
THE MOVE WEST It was clear to IAF pilots as well as command HQ that due to the rapid advance of Indian army troops in East Pakistan, designated targets for IAF aircraft were fewer than originally envisioned. The PAF Sabres were confined to the Dacca complex, and many air defence sorties flown at IAF bases were unnecessary. The IAF was in the enviable situation of having surplus air power that could be transferred to the western sector.
The first unit ordered to move to Chandigarh was 30 Squadron, then based at Kalaikunda, with a two-aircraft detachment in Panagarh. Eight aircraft began the move, safely arriving at Chandigarh by the end of the day. Four aircraft remained behind at Kalaikunda.
7 Squadron from Bagdogra was ordered to move to Nal in the western sector the next day. The squadron had started making its preparations for the move to Nal via Kanpur and Hindon. Transport aircraft arrived at Bagdogra in the night to help move support personnel and equipment.
The PAF’s inability to pose a credible threat to IAF airfields meant some air defence assets could be released for the western sector: in particular, An-12s from 25 Squadron flew L-70 AA guns
from Hashimara to Agra and three of EAC’S SAM squadrons were released to the west.
THE LOST PILOTS With both the air and ground war in full flow, there still remained the grim task of accounting for the airmen lost on the first day of operations. From the seven IAF aircraft lost, only one pilot made it back to Indian lines: Squadron Leader S.K. Gupta of 7 Squadron. Two of the pilots lost on the previous day were presumed dead: S.G. Khonde, at Tezgaon airfield, and Andre Da Costa, at Lal Munir Hat.
Flight Lieutenant Kapoor, who had flown the search and rescue mission for the ejected pilots, was detailed to fly a sortie to locate the crash site of Flight Lieutenant Andre Da Costa’s Hunter. Squadron Leader S.K. Gupta had by then returned to Bagdogra from the hospital and flew as a passenger with Kapoor. The Indian Army was informed of the search flight and its local units tasked with providing covering fire in case the Pakistan Army was present.
The search helicopter soon found the crash site, which was then searched by Gupta and Kapoor; their preliminary observations confirmed Gupta’s grim assessment that Da Costa had perished in the crash. The pilots then flew back to Bagdogra.
Kapoor and Gupta took off again to search for Gupta’s Hunter, whose wreckage was located close to the border. After landing the pair collected a few details about the area of the crash to include in the report. Kapoor and Gupta returned to Bagdogra to refuel. The pilots then prepared for the last mission of the day, to recover any mortal remains from Da’Costa’s crash site. Kapoor and Gupta returned to the crash site and carried out the task of identifying and collecting any remains; these were then handed over to the IAF medical team at Bagdogra. The next day, the papers announced Da’Costa’s death.
Flight Lieutenant Kenneth Tremenhere was presumed to have ejected, while Squadron Leader K.D. Mehra’s fate was unclear. No one had seen Squadron Leader S.V. Bhutani eject and Squadron
Leader A.B. Samanta’s fate was uncertain. News about an IAF pilot with the Mukti Bahini had filtered back to Indian lines on the night of 4 December, but it was not known whether it was Mehra, Tremenhere, Bhutani or Samanta.
However the PAF made it easier by releasing the names of Bhutani and Tremenhere on a radio broadcast that same night. The details released included their service numbers and squadrons, though Tremenhere’s name was mistakenly transcribed and published as Lemontere.”
The news of Bhutani’s capture reached Panagarh and Bareilly late on the night of 4 December. Earlier, Bhutani’s wife Asha received a visitor, the CO’s wife Mrs Kalindi Bakhle, who had taken on the unenviable task of comforting Mrs Bhutani once the signal had reached Bareilly that Bhutani was missing. Both women spent the night waiting for more news. In the morning the station commander visited, bearing the glad tidings that Bhutani’s POW status had been announced on Pakistani Radio.

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The news of Tremenhere’s captivity reached 14 Squadron late. They had another day to go before they knew whether the two pilots it had lost were safe or not. There would be no information on A.B. Samanta till the end of the war.
THE DAY’S ACTION 5 December had been comparatively less busy for the IAE More than half the force had to switch from counter air to close air support to the army, which they successfully carried out in the 111 sorties of the day. The counter air missions against Dacca and other airfields were reduced to fifty-eight sorties. Remarkably, in spite of the day’s intensive effort, no IAF aircraft were lost to air or ground action.
For the PAF as well, 5 December was a day of respite. Unlike the previous day, its Sabres did not take to the air, with its strength depleted to two-thirds, it preferred to keep its aircraft and pilots grounded, resulting in no air combat.
For the Gnat pilots of 22 Squadron, it had been a busy day. Their focus was still on combat air patrols during the day. Only towards the end did they switch duties from CAP to close air support. Flying Officer Sunith Soares flew four sorties in the day which included two CAPs over Dum Dum and another over Tezgaon. He finished the day with a fifth sortie on a Pakistan army target in the II Corps sector. By the end of the day, most of 22 Squadron had logged five to six sorties each. The CO, Wing Commander Sikand, saw this as an opportunity to get back at Eastern Air Command. Before the war started, EAC had sent a copy of a magazine article-possibly British or Americantitled ‘The Orange Juice Air Force’, which extolled the virtues of the Israeli Air Force in the 1967 war. That article noted that the teetotalling Israeli pilots of the IDF had logged three to four sorties per day during those operations. The IAF station commander had included a note with the article expressing the hope that the Indian pilots would emulate the ‘Orange Juice Air Force’ not just in its high sortie rate per individual pilot but also in its abstention from liquor during operations. With that in mind, Sikand, after entering the squadron’s sortie details in the operational records book dispatched a copy to the station commander with an enclosed handwritten note, ‘We emulated the Orange Juice Air Force… And we also had our rum!”
NOTES 1. Despite its focus on the specific EAC targets, 14 Squadron still
managed six sorties against the ‘Tezgaon complex. It suffered the maximum losses (as did 37 Squadron), losing two Hunters to air action and two pilots missing. It shared the honours with other Hunter squadrons in scoring a Sabre kill over the airfield. Harnal, Wing Commander Kulbir Singh, December Diary’, www. bharat-rakshak.com. Kapoor would say to Gupta, ‘Sir, Today I have paid my gurudakshina! The two Hunters lost were BA295 (A.R. Da’Costa) and BA287 (S.K. Gupta) respectively. Verma, A.K., (Major General), Rivers of Silence, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1998. Interview with Air Marshal M.S.D. Wollen. Many Sukhoi pilots testify that in a one against one turning fight, the Sukhoi can out turn a MiG-21 in the horizontal plane. According to official reports Sukhois from Panagarh were engaged in various counter air missions, but details are not readily available about the targets or the outcomes. Out of a total of thirty-eight missions, twenty were counter air. Other than the two photo recce sorties, no further information could be found whether any of these were flown against the Tezgaon/Kurmitola complex. According to Wing Commander A Sridharan no further attack sorties were flown
to Tezgaon after the first day. 8. Interview with Air Marshal M.S.D. Wollen. 9. Ibid. 10. Bishnoi, B.K., AVM, ‘Thunder over Dacca’, Vayu Aerospace Review,
January 1997. 11. Air Commodore Manbir Singh (personal communication). 12. Harnal, Wing Commander Kulbir Singh, ‘December Diary’,
http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1971 War/1087December-Diary.html.
13. Except for the mistake with Tremenhere’s name, the Pakistanis
debrief was good: it included the pilot’s personal service numbers, squadron identification and locations. The strangest part of the release was the Pakistani claim to have a third pilot in custody in the cast: Flight Lieutenant Choman. This appears to have been a mistake in communication. PAF East clearly knew there were only two POWs; they had been filmed for local television on 4 December
and their pictures released to the press on 5 December. 14. Interview with Wing Commander S.F. Soares.
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SIX
Back to the Airfields

BRING ON THE BOMBS! At night on 5 December, Gauhati hummed with activity in preparation for the next morning’s strikes: M-62 bombs were wheeled out, fused, and mounted; escorts were fitted with K-13 missiles and aircraft refuelled. Multiple missions were to be launched against Tezgaon; while bombs would be the main weapon in these, some sorties would harass the PAP with rocket attacks at ground targets.
The first mission of the day detailed eight MiG-21s: four carrying bombs, four acting as escorts in case of an encounter with PAF Sabres. Wollen ensured the strike and escort components included pilots from both 4 Squadron and 28 Squadron. Wing Commander Bishnoi, the CO of 28 Squadron, with Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhatia as his wingman, led the first mission. The second subsection, armed with bombs, came from 4 Squadron, consisting of Squadron Leader S.V. Ratnaparki and Flight Lieutenant Hemant Sardesai. As Gauhati was tasked with providing air support to Indian army offensives, some aircraft headed towards Comilla, while the eight-aircraft mission targeting Tezgaon taxied out a little after 8.30 a.m.
The four MiG-21s, each with two 500-kg bombs-four times

a rocket payload-slung underneath the wings and a centreline fuel tank, thundered down the runway in sections of two with full afterburner on. Bishnoi and Bhatia were the first in the air; Ratnaparki and Sardesai followed. The escorts, four K-13 armed MiGs, flown by Flight Lieutenants C.D. Chandrasekhar, Vinod Bhalla (28 Squadron), S.C. Rastogi and S.S. Tyagi (4 Squadron) took off next. The MiGs were heading for their target by 8.45 a.m.
THE LAST AIR COMBAT As the MiGs took to the air, the PAF mounted its first sortie of the day from Tezgaon as a four-Sabre formation, led by Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain, was dispatched to cover Pakistan Army positions twenty miles northeast of Dacca at Lakshyam.’ This was the first time the Sabres had ventured out of Dacca’s airspace to offer close air support to the Pakistan Army. The lack of activity
on 5 December perhaps convinced the PAF to participate in the main land battle.
Somewhere over Lakshyam, the PAF Sabres found four IAF Hunters strafing ground targets and attempted to engage. These Hunters were from 17 Squadron’s Kumbhirgram detachment and were led by Squadron Leader A.W. Lele, who was accompanied by Flight Lieutenant Vinod Neb and Flying Officers K.S. Bajwa and S.S. Bains. The Hunters had missed their target in the first run; to size up the target area afresh, Lele and his formation had climbed, at which point they were spotted by the Sabres. Dilawar tried to jockey his formation to intercept the Hunters, but lost sight of them as the Hunters descended again. Dilawar Hussain abandoned combat after his drop tanks jammed.? The PAF’s Flight Lieutenant Shamshad Ahmed claimed a Hunter as a kill. However, all the Hunters returned safely to Kumbhirgram.
After the four PAF aircraft were recovered successfully at Tezgaon, their pilots headed for debriefing as their ground crew began preparing the aircraft for the next sorties of the day. Just then, some civilian transport vehicles arrived, disgorging several foreign nationals. Unknown to either the MiG pilots at Gauhati or to Group Captain Wollen, efforts were underway to evacuate foreign nationals from Dacca. The United Nations Secretary General had requested a window between 10.30 a.m. and 6.30 p.m. East Pakistan Time (EPT) on 5 December to evacuate over 200 individuals (including UN and Red Cross Staff, consulates’ staff and family members). The Pakistani government assented on the evening of 4 December. The Indian government replied in the late hours of 5 December, confirming aerial attacks on Dacca would cease between 10.30 to 12.30 EPT (10.00 a.m. to 12.00 noon IST) on 6 December.
Paul Marc-Henry, UNEPRO’s head in Dacca, had planned to use the two Pilatus Porters leased by his organization for evacuations. However, with both aircraft destroyed by 4 December, Henry had sent an urgent signal to United Nations headquarters in New York to arrange for aircraft and a truce.
The Canadian government responded, promising the use of one of its C-130 aircraft (436 Squadron, Canadian Armed Forces Air Command), then on a courier flight to one of its embassies in the Far East, and currently ensconced in Bangkok. Its pilot, Major Edward Stone, and his co-pilot David Barker, began the two-and-a-half-hour flight early in the morning on 6 December. UN officials, in the meantime, began transporting the foreign nationals to be evacuated to the airfield.
At 9.10 IST the Gauhati MiGs pulled up for their attack; the roar of the Tumansky engines was unmistakable. All eyes looked up to catch the awe-inspiring sight of the first MiG-21 pulling straight up into its attack profile.
A few minutes before that, the eight MiG-21FLs from Gauhati had been speeding towards Dacca at low level. The pilots were fortunate to have clear skies ahead and the ground below devoid of fog. By now, thanks to their familiarity with the terrain, navigation to Tezgaon had become routine. Short of the IP, Bishnoi pushed the throttle column forward to pick up speed. He emitted a short R/T call, acknowledged by R/T clicks from the other pilots. The MiGs began spacing themselves out. At the designated pull-up point, Bishnoi gave a short R/T call indicating full dry throttle and pulled up. This was acknowledged by the familiar clicks as each pilot briefly set his R/T to transmit.
Bishnoi pulled up his MiG in a steep climb to 15,000 feet even as he quickly glanced left and right to size up the airfield’s position. Tezgaon’s runway appeared as a thin, long streak on the ground to Bishnoi’s left. As the MiG reached the top of its climb and slowed, Bishnoi pushed the stick to the left, rolling the MiG onto its back. With his speed bleeding off rapidly, and the aircraft almost inverted, the runway made its way to the top of the canopy. As the nose dropped, Bishnoi rolled slowly to the right, straightening out all the while and then, aligning his dive with the runway’s length, ensured the gunsight aimed at the distant end of the runway.
Bishnoi had accelerated rapidly due to the steepness of the dive and the weight of his bomb payload. His speed, which had slowed to 450 kmph at the top of the dive, increased rapidly, passing 700 kmph, followed by 800, then 900 till the airspeed indicator showed 1,000 kmph:
I felt stationary, as if suspended with a thread on top of the runway. Suddenly a large number of black and white puffs started appearing in front of me and then all around me A-A guns were firing away. I was nearing the bombing point, gun sight rock steady on the target. Wait,wait, NOW!! I pressed the trigger and felt the bomb release as the aircraft became lighter by 1,000 kg. I pulled out of the dive and turned hard left to get out of the firing line of the A-A guns. It was gratifying to see two smoking craters on the runway, right in the middle of the top quarter.
The two bombs detached from the aircraft at 4,500 feet altitude; their trajectory made it seem the bombs were flying in formation. The pair maintained their trajectory on their descent till they hit the runway. In the microsecond delay the detonator required to set them off, the bombs penetrated through the concrete slabs into the soil below and exploded with devastating force.
The explosion threw up tons of debris, shifting several concrete slabs out of position; a massive thirty-foot wide crater, several feet deep, instantaneously formed on the runway. The two bombs dropped close enough to create a single large crater. Bishnoi had started pulling out as the bombs released and levelled off at 1,500 feet before exiting at high speed. The Pakistani gunners were hard pressed to keep Bishnoi in their sights. As they gathered their wits about them, a second MiG-21, flown by Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhatia, was at the point of bomb release, while a third MiG-21 flown by Squadron Leader Ratnaparki was commencing a roll in at the top of its climb.
Bhatia’s bombs found their mark, and another set of craters straddled the Tezgaon runway, putting it out of action. Bhatia was followed by Ratnaparki of 4 Squadron:
We didn’t have time to think, we just pulled up way up to 4 km, did a motherless dive, positioned ourselves, by the time we
reached 4 km the runway was there. We aligned ourselves along the length of the runway, that’s how the whole positioning took place, by the time we reached and rolled in, the runway would be literally straight down our noses. We aimed for the centre of the runway so if the bombs fall a little short or farther, they would still hit the runway.
The AA fire was fierce, that’s why we dropped them from high. Normally we dropped them at 900 m above ground, as the altimeter reads and by the time we pulled up, we would be at 600 m. But now we dropped them at 1.4-1.5 km; by the time we did a pull out, we were more than a km high. The AA couldn’t hit us (even though there was a heavy umbrella of AA. .
35-37 degree is the dive which is steep enough. It is scary the first time as you are diving down like the Stuka. By the time we pulled out the speed was 1,000 kmph!
I hadn’t dropped a bomb or done any firing for the last six to eight months. But I was one of the fairly experienced guys. I had a certain amount of proficiency. And I remember of the four aircraft, three hit the runway, and another one hit the side of the runway. There were no Sabres encountered, the moment the first bomb fell it was the end.
Hemant Sardesai, the No. 4, was the last one to attack. As Sardesai pulled up his MiG and rolled out into the dive, the handling of the MiG with two heavy 500-kg bombs slung beneath the wings became sluggish:
(When) we did these practice bombings, north of Jorhat, we had dropped 75-kg bombs. They behave exactly the same. But with these heavier bombs, the handling becomes different, since you have extra weight. The aircraft becomes sluggish. There is a tendency to yo-yo (side to side) when you go into the dive. When you roll into the dive, there is an oscillation.
That is where the skill of the pilot comes in as the MiG, because of the pendulum movement and extra weight on the wings, can become a handful. I had to arrest this at the initial stage. Once the aircraft is in a dive if I have not arrested this movement, then it becomes more and more difficult.
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With the speed building up, the rudder, which is manual, becomes very heavy, and you can’t correct it. And when you try to correct, then the aircraft would be crabbing. The nose is pointing somewhere and the bombs are pointing elsewhere, and the aircraft flight path becomes a big hotchpotch. And then the accuracy suffers.
So you have to have a flight path which is) very straight without any slip or skid and that you have to achieve early on into the dive, as you start pointing at the target. Then the speed builds up by the time you come to the release range. And the moment I rolled, as we rolled in, I saw the AA was opening up. These puffs were much bigger than what I had experienced before. In the previous sorties (all CAS), what we had seen were small arms fire. The firing we saw were much smaller, but these puffs were big. And initially these were quite far from the aircraft. But as they knew we were coming in a particular direction, they had positioned their guns better (four-barrelled quads on either side of the runway at the beginning and the end). By the time I was in the dive) the puffs appeared closer…they kept coming closer and closer and you feel…laga! (you were hit! And nabin laga! (But really not hit!).
It did not bother us; the idea was to get that runway. I remember my bomb dropped and there was a taxi track leading from part of the runway to the international terminal. These two bombs landed as one. Both made a single big crater. It was at a joint of the runway and taxi track. By this time the others had dropped and pulled up and were in the process of going back. I just dropped the bomb, pulled up and that’s it.
The MiG attack was over in less than a minute. The MiG pilots distanced themselves from the airfield before pulling up to altitude out of AA gun range. Bishnoi climbed to 5,000 metres to observe the result of the MiGs’ bombing run. Even as a great pall of dust and smoke rose from Tezgaon, an incredible sight was visible: all their bombs had fallen along the length of the runway.
The PAF was dumbstruck by the bombing. Steep glide bombing of runways was a new phenomenon in the Indian subcontinent. While strafing attacks were done in dives, bombing was done at
low level. The MiGs had taken a risk by coming in from high, exposing themselves to AA guns but achieving remarkable accuracy in bomb delivery. (Away on the western front PAF Mirages tried delivering bombs in level flight and rarely achieved the accuracy of the IAF MiGs in the east.)
The PAF could scarcely believe a regular 500-kg dumb bomb had caused the damage visible; the bombs had torn twenty by fifty feet into the runway, whose concrete slabs were shifted upwards. Repair looked onerous if not unlikely. The damage caused by the raids provoked an incredulous reaction from the PAF, which claimed the IAF had used a special rocket-powered ‘dibber’ bomb, a claim faithfully parroted by John Fricker in an article defending the PAF’s performance after the war.?
NAPALM STRIKE: 9.30 A.M. The respite of the Pakistani AA gunners was short-lived. Within minutes another IAF formation struck the airfield. This time it was eight Hunters from 14 Squadron, led by Wing Commander Sundaresan. The Hunters, sent to neutralize the airfield’s antiaircraft batteries, carried two napalm containers under their wings in addition to two drop tanks with fuel. The previous day EAC HQ had suggested using napalm as an area weapon to destroy the PAF’s AA gun emplacements. The IAF’s Hunter squadrons alone had the requisite training and practice dealing with napalm.
Squadron Leader S.R. Murdeshwar, staff officer at EAC HQ, found that while EAC’s napalm stocks were adequate, the equipment required to transfer it to weapon containers was limited. However, the engineering officers assured him the ground crew would transfer the napalm using manual hand pumps. 14 Squadron’s ground crew at Dum Dum worked overnight to prepare the containers. By morning, eight aircraft were ready for Tezgaon.
14 Squadron was to hit Tezgaon just after the MiGs. Four Gnats of 22 Squadron would fly as top cover. The CO, Wing Commander Sundaresan, along with Squadron Leader R.C. Sachdeva, the flight commander, would lead the eight aircraft, One of the aircraft did not start, leaving Flight Lieutenant S.K. Das Gupta a very frustrated pilot as a standby aircraft and pilot had to be called in. The eight aircraft took off on schedule at 9 a.m. Besides the CO and the flight commander, the other pilots were Squadron Leader Madhav Kashav, Flight Lieutenants S.K. Chopra, K.S. Sidhu, Santosh Mone, and Flying Officers B.A.K. Shetty and J.S. Grewal. Rather than use a direct approach from the southwest of Tezgaon, Sundaresan decided to fly south and further east of Dacca, turn around and approach Tezgaon from the northeast from Kurmitola.
The Gnats arrived over the target and maintained altitude at 25,000 feet, descending only at the Hunters’ estimated time of arrival. However there was no air opposition, and they were not required. The Hunters did encounter very heavy and accurate anti-aircraft fire from the ground. Flying Officer B.A.K. Shetty flew close enough to the ground—and the gunfire-to see the ‘whites of the eyes’ of the Pakistani gunners, while Grewal found himself ducking in the confines of his cockpit.
To the disappointment of the pilots, while some of the napalm scorched vast swathes of land near the runways and possibly eliminated some AA gun crews, much of the napalm dispensed on the target failed to ignite. The formation returned to Dum Dum by 10 a.m. (IST), just as the temporary ceasefire came into effect.
Before the Hunters had started their attack run, somewhere in the airfield, within the cantonment, the day had just started for the IAF pilot taken POW on the first day, Squadron Leader S.V. Bhutani. After the first day’s parade before TV crews, Bhutani was herded to a room in a two-storeyed building. The sparse room sported a bed and a window on the door through which he could catch a glimpse of the sky outside. Standing outside was a tall, smartly turned out Pathan guard. Bhutani’s attempts to strike up a conversation with him were met with cold stares.
Bhutani was gloomily contemplating his fate when he heard jets attack. The noise of the aircraft was accompanied by the staccato bursts of the defending guns. Suddenly a huge blast rocked the building, seemingly engulfing it in flames. Bhutani realized the building had been hit by napalm. Burning petroleum jelly shot through the window into the room and splattered the walls on the opposite end, fortuitously missing Bhutani lying on the bed Bhutani was startled to find himself in a room with one wall on fire; the view through the window showed high flames outside. But most disturbing were the screams of agony from the Pathan guard, caught by the napalm. Bhutani could only helplessly bear witness to his dying agonies. Slowly the screams died down. Luckily for Bhutani, the fire inside the room was limited to the napalm splattered on the wall, which soon burned out.
An hour after the attack the door was opened and Pakistani soldiers herded him out of the room. Bhutani caught a glimpse of the charred remains of the dead guard before he was shoved into a truck where another POW, Flight Licutenant Kenneth Tremenhere, awaited. Unknown to Bhutani, Tremenhere had been in the room next to Bhutani and had also undergone the torment of being napalm bombed by his own air force and, in his case, his own squadron! The two IAF pilots, comforted by each other’s company, exchanged a few brief words. They were then blindfolded and driven to another location.
Soon, Bhutani and Tremenhere were taken off the truck, and herded separately into small rooms measuring eight feet by eight feet. Their blindfolds were removed before the door was locked. A look around the new jail cell revealed no doors or windows, just a light bulb and a bed. Though their cells were close to each other, neither Bhutani nor Tremenhere had any contact with each other till the ceasefire.
TARGET: STILL TEZGAON The exit of 14 Squadron Hunters should have bought some respite to the PAF at Tezgaon as the UN-sponsored temporary ceasefire was to come into effect at 10.30 a.m. EPT (10 m. IST). The PAF was busy organizing its aircraft handling teams, expecting the Hercules to arrive at any moment.
The UN C-130 was approximately seventy miles from the
airfield when it was told by the ATC to hold back. At approximately 10.45 local time, four MiG-21s came roaring over the airfield. Two MiG-21s kept top cover-armed with K-13s to take on any roving F-86s-while the other two descended, trying to identify targets. The IAF had violated the ceasefire; clearly there had been poor communication somewhere in the command structure.
These aircraft were from 28 Squadron; the two MiGs that had descended were flown by Flight Lieutenant V.K. Bapat and N.S. Malhi. Both had been instructed to look out for a transport aircraft at the airfield. By now the AA guns defending the airfield had opened up on the MiGs. Failing to find worthwhile targets, Bapat and Malhi rocketed a nearby railway yard, destroying a railway engine and a few goods bogies. The damage was confirmed by Flight Lieutenants Manbir Singh and Dadoo Subaiya, their escorts above. The IAF mission returned to base by 10.42 IST (11.12 EPT).
Though the airfield was not the target of the attacks, because the AA guns had opened up it was assumed MiGs were repeating the morning attack with bombs. The ATC officer hurriedly radioed the UN Hercules the airfield was under attack and that the AA fire was intense. He advised the pilot, Major Stone, to return to Bangkok. Stone complied, leaving a contingent of frustrated foreign nationals stranded at Dacca airport.
Busloads of evacuees had arrived at the airfield; the first one was carrying women and children who scurried to the trenches for protection. The UN observer on the airfield reported a bomb exploding twenty-five metres from them but no casualties were confirmed. In any case, none of the attacking MiGs had bombs, and a miss by a FAB 500 at that distance would have caused some severe casualties. The cause of this ‘bomb explosion’ is still a mystery.
Tezgaon received its fourth attack of the day, the third by MiGs, in the hour after noon. Following up on the first bombing raid, cight MiG-21s took to the air from Gauhati at 12.20 p.m. Once again, the force was divided into four bombers and four escorts. Mally Wollen had ensured tasks were shared equally by
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the squadrons under him; two of the MiG-21s carrying bombs were flown by 28 Squadron pilots, Wing Commander Bishnoi and Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhatia, while the other two were flown by pilots of 4 Squadron. The Commanding Officer, J.V. Gole, decided to take part, along with Rastogi as his No. 2. The escort comprised pilots from both squadrons as well; C.D. Chandrasekhar and Vinod Bhalla from 28 Squadron and Squadron Leader S.V. Ratnaparki with Flight Lieutenant Hemant Sardesai took on escort tasks for the Oorials.
The mission’s TOT was 12.45, well after the end of the temporary ceasefire. As with the morning’s raid, the attack was successful: in the face of heavy but ineffective AA fire, all four pilots dropped the bombs along the runway centreline.

THE KURMITOLA RAID
With Tezgaon’s runway out of action, Gauhati turned its attention to Kurmitola airfield, which had been bombed just once, on the test run’ on the afternoon of 5 December. There had been one direct hit on the runway-achieved by Manbir Singh. Another massive ‘Four plus Four’ formation consisting of a mix of pilots from 4 and 28 Squadrons was designated for Kurmitola. The four aircraft detailed as bombers had two pilots from each unit: Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill, Flight Lieutenant C.D. Chandrasekhar (from No. 28), D.D.S. Kumar and Ajit Bhavnani (4 Squadron) flew these. The four escorting MiGs were flown by ‘Dadoo’ Subaiya and K.S. Raghavachari (28 Squadron), and J. Sukrut Raj and Gurumurthy ‘G. Bala’ Balasubramanian (4 Squadron). The formation took off at 3.20 p.m.
Till then, the escorts had been hauling their K-13s to and fro from the targets with little chance of using them in combat. But this time, Subaiya made sure that instead of the AAMs, his MiG was armed with UB-16 rocket pods.
The bomb run to Kurnitola was uneventful. Subaiya noticed the long runway at Kurmitola shone bright white; it was a newly built runway and had not yet been smeared by tire marks or other signs of wear and tear. The PAF’s AA guns again proved ineffective as Gill and the rest dropped their bombs on the shorter runway to the southwest.
On the return flight, the escorts flew over a train at Shirpur. Subaiya was only too happy to make use of his rockets in knocking it out. By the time the eight MiGs returned, it was 4.25 p.m., twenty minutes before sunset. Counter air missions for the day were over.
Between them, the two MiG squadrons had flown thirty counter air sorties on the day. With the two devastating bombing raids on ‘Tezgaon, and one on Kurmitola, the two MiG squadrons ensured the PAF’s hopes in the east remained grounded.
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT With half of the MiG pilots from Gauhati engaged in counter air strike sorties on Tezgaon, the rest continued close air support missions. The IV Corps sector saw forty MiG sorties originating from Gauhati and directed against Kalaura, Sylhet, Mainamati Cantonment, Brahmanbaria and Ashuganj.
Of these, fourteen relatively uneventful sorties were flown by 28 Squadron, which carried out rocket attacks on trains and gun positions in Brahmanbaria and Bhairab Bazaar. The MiGs were unscathed except for some minor bullet damage.
But 4 Squadron, which also mounted several missions, was not so lucky. During these sorties at Brahmanbaria, the first MiG21 loss in the eastern sector occurred. Earlier, a few pilots had arrived from Tezpur to Gauhati, cach keen to fly operations while they lasted. Squadron Leader D.P. ‘Dopey’ Rao was the leader of this group and got his chance to fly towards the end of the day.
Rao’s aircraft was hit by small arms fire during his strike; he was instructed to fly for range and make for Gauhati. Rao’s familiarity with Gauhati’s flying sectors was limited, and he had returned alone while his formation was still in the battle area. Gauhati was dogged by bad visibility and Rao was not able to locate the airfield. He called for homing but received none; the MiG was in a dead zone’ in which radar was not effective. The non-directional beacon at Gauhati was also switched off, as was standard wartime practice. There were no other aircraft in the immediate flying area to shepherd Rao, who fruitlessly tried to locate the airfield, all the while rapidly losing fuel. As it ran out of fuel, the engine flamed out, leaving Rao with no choice but to eject. He landed safely in the compound of Gauhati Hospital. A sprained ankle was his only injury, but thanks to his landing, help was nearby.
Rao’s mishap occurred while the operations commander Mally Wollen was not present in the operations room. Wollen had decided to fly operations himself and assigned himself as the fourth pilot in a four-aircraft strike to Jamalpur carried out by 4 Squadron. He thus became the first station commander of the 1971 war to fly an operational sortie.
Wollen heard about the loss of the MiG on his return. The station personnel were in a tizzy, fully expecting the fold man
to grumble’. But the old man’ didn’t ‘grumble’; losses were an unavoidable component wartime operations. Still, Wollen felt Dopey Rao’s aircraft loss was an avoidable one. Ideally, Rao would have gained familiarity of the local area before setting off for operational missions. Furthermore, once his aircraft was damaged and he decided to head back, he should have been assigned a wingman for shepherding to base. These factors and the reduced visibility around Gauhati resulted in the loss of his aircraft. However 4 Squadron felt consoled Rao was safe. Indeed, during the operations, neither of the two Gauhati MiG-21 squadrons lost a pilot.
A review of the day’s operations revealed many aircraft were coming back with small arms damage. Wollen discussed this with Bishnoi and Gole and left them with strict instructions to not let their pilots fly at excessively low level and put themselves in a vulnerable position. With no Sabres in the sky, there was no need for the MiGs to fly low level; flying at higher altitudes would keep them out of reach of small arms fire.
JESSORE SECTOR 14 Squadron was kept busy on the western front of East Pakistan. Its pilots flew sixteen sorties in their Hunters starting at 1 p.m. These included two napalm attacks on Jessore, one napalm raid at Abdullapur on an army camp, and an interdiction mission on Lakhshya yard. Only the last mission at 4 p.m., led by Flight Lieutenant Santosh Mone, failed to find the target and the pilots returned with their napalm load intact. The Hunters received an unexpected hand from four Canberras of 16 Squadron which mounted a daylight raid over Jessore. Five aircraft staging through Dum Dum dropped thirty-three 1000-1b bombs on Pakistan Army positions in Jessore.
Elsewhere, Hunters, Sukhois and Canberras carried out interdiction and close support missions. Sukhois of 221 Squadron carried out sixteen sorties destroying a number of vehicles on the Chaudhanga-Jhenida road.
HUNTERS ATTACK HILL In the afternoon, Wing Commander Chatrath, CO 17 Squadron, flew a close support mission, accompanied by Flying Officer Arora from 37 Squadron. The objective of this mission was to provide close air support for army troops near Hilli. The sortie and its outcome were dramatic:
It was the second mission of the day. Each sortie takes time in planning and briefings and thus it was only late in the afternoon that Flying Officer Arora of 37 Squadron as my No. 2 and I finally got airborne and headed out for Hilli where our forces were facing stiff resistance in their advance eastwards and had been bogged down and suffered casualties.
As per laid down procedures we were given a detailed briefing at the station base operations room over an array of large-scale maps marking the latest position of the enemy and our own troops. The bomb lines indicating the latest battle lines have to be meticulously drawn on the maps of the pilots on the closesupport sorties.
Major Dhawan, the GLO at Hashimara always made it a point that if at all the pilots erred in their map markings it was to be well on the safe side. The bomb line which keeps changing in a moving battle is of critical importance. The target coordinates and the call signs of our FAC (forward air controller) are also clearly marked on the pilot’s kneepad map sheet.
As was the practice, we were flying at a safe height out of the enemy’s small arms fire range and were still short of Hilli, when I noticed lots of dust being thrown up ahead and well to our left (castwards) which marked the enemy territory.
Breaking R/T silence, I called Arora to look well to his port. He confirmed what appeared to be dust being thrown up by a fast-moving column of vehicles. Altering course we both headed towards the moving dust and asking him to circle and stay at a safe height, I went down to about 500 feet to have a closer look. I saw a large column of tanks, armoured vehicles and other troop carriers moving fast on a dirt track. As I made the pass, I noticed flashes of gunfire and it seemed the entire column opened up with whatever they had. I pulled up sharply to join
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Arora who was circling the column. We both checked our maps and confirmed the column was indeed well into enemy territory. I recall making a couple of more passes with no intention of firing and at each pass, I was met with a hail of gunfire. The long line of vehicles led by tanks was moving fast towards a forested grove of trees, where they would soon be sheltered and hard to see. It was dusk time and it was the stage I took the decision, or initiative, if you like, to seize the opportunity and attack the column. I transmitted my decision to Arora. Each aircraft was carrying four T-10 rocket projectiles and a full load of 30 mm ammunition in our four Aden guns.
Having assumed ground attack formation around the column, I was the first to attack and saw my first rocket just overshoot the tank I had picked up in my sights. I recall I was relieved at the miss as I was still not absolutely certain whether the column was ours or Pakistani. Since again, all the guns had opened up and what little doubt I had seemed to have vanished after the first R/P attack
With my three remaining R/Ps, I scored direct hits on three tanks. F/O Arora destroyed one tank. The aircraft cameras confirmed these hits. After expending our rockets, we strafed the train of vehicles which by then had been abandoned. We could clearly see the troops jumping out of the tanks and vehicles. The films when viewed showed the entire carnage.
I called up the FAC and informed him that we were returning to base and were not able to carry out the support mission, having expended all our armament and were running low on fuel.
The sun sets early in the east and it was past dusk that we landed and were picked up from our respective aircraft hides to report to the base ops room for the debriefings. Major Dhawan, the GLO was informed that we did not carry out our close support mission to Hilli and had instead expended all our armament on a column of tanks and troop carriers and armoured vehicles which we had sighted on the enemy side of the bomb line. This had been carried out at my initiative and a number of tanks and vehicles had been destroyed.
There was hushed silence in the ops room when the GLO pronounced that to the best of his knowledge, there were no Pakistani tanks or vehicles in that area, implying in no uncertain terms that I had attacked our own tanks, vehicles and troops. I remember the sympathetic remarks that such happenings were a part of fortunes of war and friendly fire had to be expected under the conditions of a moving battle.
We spent a lot of time going over the bomb line marked on my map and the one shown on the large-scale wall map of the ops room. It was still exactly the same point that I stressed repeatedly to the GLO. However at the time I had no option but to accept that I had made a mistake in the reading of my map. I was obviously shattered and demoralized when it finally sank into my head that I was responsible for killing so many of our own troops (as well as) destruction of tanks and vehicles.
It must have been well past 10 p.m. that I walked out of the underground Ops room, entirely shaken and so different from the pilot that stepped out of the Hunter cockpit on the morning of 4 December. I was tired when I reached home with no appetite and it had been a very long day.
It was past midnight when the telephone by my bedside rang. It was Major Dhawan, passing on the corps commander’s congratulations. The column that Arora and I had attacked was indeed Pakistani and had been a major obstacle to our forces advancement in the Hilli area. The GLO also mentioned that a couple of the destroyed Patton tanks would be towed to Hashimara.
The following morning, Major Dhawan was there to greet me at the Ops room with a broad smile to acknowledge that he had lost the battle of the ‘bomb line and that he owed a great deal to Arora and me. Thereafter there was much friendly banter when it came to the markings of the bomb lines on the pilot’s maps going on close support sorties.”
After the war, the army’s promise was kept. Today a lone Chafee tank adorns the front of the Officers’ Mess at Hashimara.
GNATS INTO GROUND ATTACK The IAF’s Gnat squadrons had been engaged in flying combat air patrols over their respective home bases on 4 December.
15 Squadron, based at Bagdogra, flew continuous CAP missions during the launch and recovery of Bagdogra’s Hunters. Towards the evening, once informed there was no threat to Bagdogra from the PAF, the Gnats were allowed to fly on close support missions. 15 Squadron then flew sixteen sorties against Pakistani targets in the Hilli area, about 100 km from Bagdogra. The CO, Wing Commander M.M. Singh, led the first strike in textbook mission profile: the Gnats flew at low level in a broad frontage formation at 360 knots till the contact point.
At the contact point, the forward air controller established contact, and gave them a description of the target as well as a course setting to the pull-up point. The Gnats split into two sections, with one trailing the other by 1000 metres. The aircraft set course at 420 knots, and climbed to 3,000 feet once the pullup point was reached. The four pilots fired their T-10 rockets in a shallow diving attack on the targets before regrouping and heading back to base. The first mission was followed by two more. At the end of the day, 15 Squadron was informed their CAS that missions had been successful: enemy resistance had melted away.
THE RAID ON BARISAL 22 Squadron’s Gnats also carried out ground attacks. Earlier in the day, the appearance of Sabres over Comilla and the subsequent combat with 17 Squadron’s Hunters was brought to the notice of Eastern Air Command HQ. An R/T intercept suggested two of the Sabres flying back from that battle were recovered at the airstrip at Barisal town, fifty miles south of Dacca and 130 miles east of Calcutta, indicating the airfield and hangar were being used by the PAF
The discovery’ of new airstrips like this posed a problem for EAC HQ. Whatever their relative unimportance, EAC had to deny their usage to the PAF, diverting precious effort to put the airfields out of commission.
As most of the ground attack units were already heavily engaged in operations, a flight of four Gnats of 22 Squadron at Dum Dum was launched to attack the airfield in the evening. Armed with T-10 rockets, the Gnat pilots made short work of the ATC Tower and few buildings they observed. But the elusive Sabres were not spotted at the airfield; it would turn out that the report of the Sabres at Barisal was false. The airfield was earmarked for a knockout punch the next day; 14 Squadron would carry this out in the morning.
THE COUP DE GRACE: THE MIG-21 SOLO After the last light attack on 6 December by the MiGs, the TAF left Tezgaon alone for the night. This was the second night in succession without attacks by the Canberras; the respite allowed the PAF to work on the damage created on the Tezgaon runway.
The extent of the damage to the Tezgaon runway, thanks to the IAF’s pinpoint delivery of the FAB500 M-62 bombs, surprised the PAF even though they had made contingency plans for such an event. The stunned AOC at Dacca sent a message to the PAF Air HQ in the west that the bombs were ‘fitted by rocket motors to ensure deep penetration’.!2
The PAF AOC, Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq had planned to repair the bomb craters with the Pakistan Army Engineering Battalion based in Dacca. For his Sabres to take to the air, Inam-ulHaq would need about 5,000 feet of the runway, which comprised three-fourths of the two-mile-long runway at Tezgaon. The repair crews estimated they needed to fill in three of the craters to make it usable by the Sabres.
An engineering platoon employing civilian workers was engaged in filling these craters through the day and overnight. Some pro-West Pakistani civilians from the Bihari community were available for repair duty and were marshalled into the task. The Army Engineering Platoon and its work crew worked without respite to fill and repair the craters. The lack of night attacks by the IAF helped their effort and by the dawn of 7 December the work crews managed to fill and repair two or three of the massive craters.” A runway stretch 5,000 feet long and seventy-five feet wide was now ready to be used by the Sabres if needed.
The PAF was on readiness all night in anticipation of the runway becoming operational; two Sabres would carry out the first combat air patrol of the day. The PAF rightly assumed the IAF would follow up with an early morning attack like the one carried out the previous day. They planned to get into the air carlier than the usual time to disrupt the expected raid. There was also a UNmandated temporary ceasefire in effect from 8 a.m. onwards. Any further attacks would probably be done in the hours before that. But the PAF did not count on an early bird visit by the IAF.
Back on the Indian side, it was apparent based on the observations of the previous day’s raids that the PAF was busy repairing runways. However, news about the temporary UN ceasefire from 8 a.m. to 12 noon had been communicated to the wings as well. A follow-up attack would have to be done between sunrise at 5.58 a.m. and the ceasefire at 8 a.m. The narrow window would enable the PAF to put fighters in the air and disrupt the attacks. Attacks close to the ceasefire could result in a repeat of the previous day’s incident when IAF MiGs attacked the airfield during the ceasefire period.
Central Command’s Canberras were employed elsewhere on the western front for the night and on evidence of the first two days’ results, their effectiveness against Tezgaon’s runways was minimal. The only solution to the problem seemed to be a repeat of the MiG-21s bombing attack, except that it would have to be carried out at night, as early as possible. (Away in the western sector, MiG-21s and Sukhoi-7s were already carrying out night strikes against airfields; these were being flown by experienced pilots of Tactics and Air Combat Squadron (TACS, the predecessor to the modern Tactics and Air Combat Development Establishment-TACDE] who had spent months honing their attack skills and tactics.)
The raid would employ a single MiG-21, as strikes by formations were ruled out by night. The signal unit in Shillong would guide the MiG-21 to Tezgaon’s general vicinity. The pilot would then be on his own to figure out targets on the ground. The moon was still at three-quarters illumination, this would help identify ground features. At the very worst, bombs on or around the airfield would disrupt PAF efforts to repair the runway.

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Meanwhile, the PAF pilots at Tezgaon were up and about all night, eagerly awaiting first light at 5.58 a.m. ‘to get airborne and challenge the enemy one more time. Some pilots were already manning the ADA hut. It was still dark, with no hint of dawn breaking over the horizon. At approximately 4.30 a.m. (5.00 EPT) Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain was making his way to the ADA hut to take over when he heard a MiG-21 pull up for an attack. It was too dark to sight the attacker, but the roar of the Tumansky engine was unmistakable.
The MiG-21 made a perfect steep glide attack on the runway and placed its bombs exactly in the middle of the 5,000 feet of the available stretch. Mission accomplished, its pilot pulled up and was re-directed to Gauhati for a night landing.
As the all clear was given, Dilawar Hussain rushed to the runway with the senior ATC officer to assess the damage. He saw to his horror the runway was utterly unusable by the Sabres. The day was sure to bring more attacks on the runway and there was no chance of the Sabres getting airborne. ‘With tears in my eyes almost said aloud that from this moment onwards the fate of East Pakistan has been decided.!6
The PAF’s Sabres were grounded.
THE UN EVACUATION ATTEMPT As dawn broke over the eastern sector, a UN aircraft was en route to Tezgaon, following up on the previous day’s abortive mission. Canadian Majors Stone and Barker returned again on 7 December with their C-130 Hercules; they took off from Bangkok at 6.15 a.m. and proceeded to Rangoon. The agreed upon temporary ceasefire over Dacca came into effect from 8 a.m.
The previous day, the UN Secretary General was informed by the Indian mission of a ceasefire at Tezgaon from 8 a.m. to 12 noon. The UNEPRO authorities at Tezgaon also confirmed that even though the available runway was cut in half by bombing over the past twenty-four hours, it was still sufficient for a C-130 to land safely and take off. Unlike the Sabre, which required 2,300

feet of runway to land and more than 4,500 feet to take off, a C-130 could, at full thrust, land in approximately 1,400 feet and take off in 1,800 feet.
Over Rangoon, the Dacca ATC asked the C-130 pilots to stay in pattern as the runway was not yet usable. After orbiting Rangoon for an hour and twenty-six minutes, the C-130 was cleared to proceed with instructions to carry out a visual inspection of the runway before landing Stone resumed his journey from Rangoon to Dacca.
Flying at 20,000 feet, at approximately 10.15 IST, thirty miles off the coast from Cox Bazar, over the Bay of Bengal, the C-130 stumbled onto the Indian Navy’s carrier task force comprising the INS Vikrant and its support ships.
The navy had been informed about the UN aircraft’s proposed plan to fly to East Pakistan for Naval HQ had informed the eastern fleet that aircraft would be transiting through the area. But the fleet had been expecting the aircraft on 6 December.
As Stone’s C-130 hovered into view, spotters on the Vikrant classified the ‘intruder’ as an unidentified aircraft. As it came within 5,000 yards of the fleet the Vikrant responded with a warning burst of its AA guns.
Meanwhile Brown, who was closely observing the fleet, noticed two aircraft circling the Vikrant. Another aircraft was approaching the carrier from the stern, and suddenly the carrier began to ‘smoke’. Brown interpreted this as the PAF attacking the carrier but it was probably a Sea Hawk making the go around while attempting to land.
The Vilerant’s warning shots exploded well to the left of the C-130, catching Brown’s attention. Brown decided this raging air-sca battle was no place for his aircraft and promptly turned back towards Bangkok, while sending out a ‘May-Day’ call and sundry distress signals. Soon, Bangkok relayed a message from the Air Transport Command Operations Centre, ordering the aircraft to turn back. Brown touched down at Bangkok at 11.45 a.m. Plans to send a second UN aircraft, a Boeing 707, were summarily cancelled.

The aborted second evacuation flight distressed the stranded UN officials in Dacca. A flurry of messages ensued, with one signal making its way to Delhi. Paul Marc-Henry, the UN representative, requested the UN Secretary General to submit a report to the Security Council, which was done two days later. The Indian government notified the United Nations the C-130 was off course when it flew over the Vikrant and that two aircraft were scrambled by the Vikrant to identify the intruder. Its officials later protested that the UN Secretary General’s report did not absolve Indian forces of blame.”
This diplomatic manoeuvring was of little solace to the foreign nationals and officials stranded in Dacca. For them, reprieve was four days away. In the meantime they were caught in a fight to the finish.
COUNTER AIR MISSIONS CONTINUE Had the evacuation succeeded, the ceasefire would have lifted at 12 noon, and indeed, EAC and its units planned to attack Tezgaon soon thereafter. Through the morning IAF squadrons undertook other tasks, purposely avoiding Tezgaon and its environs.
14 Squadron, for example, shifted its attention to Barisal airfield which was assigned as a target by Command HQ overnight. EAC had received reports three Sabres, stored in a hangar for safekeeping, were operating from the airfield. The raid by Gnats on the previous day had not found any aircraft. However ensuring its runway was made unserviceable like Tezgaon’s required more bombing, using ordnance the puny Gnat could not handle.
14 Squadron carried out their first mission against Barisal at 9 a.m. with four Hunters flown by Wing Commander Sundaresan, Squadron Leaders Sachdeva, K.C. Mohan and Samar Das Gupta. The Hunters were armed with 1000-lb bombs and front guns. Sundaresan found Barisal empty, with no visible hangar’s that might have housed aircraft. The Hunters pulled up for the attack to 4,000 feet altitude and then went into a shallow dive releasing the bombs at 2,000 feet. Of the eight 1000-1b bombs used, three fell on the runway creating craters twenty-five feet in diameter and four feet deep; these were large enough to make it unfit for operational use. Another two bombs fell elsewhere in the airfield, while the damage caused by the other three could not be assessed. 20
The Hunters were followed by four Gnats of 22 Squadron from Dum Dum, which strafed the ATC and other buildings. Barisal was not attacked again; due to its proximity to the 22°15N latitude the IAF and Indian Navy had agreed upon as the dividing line, and the lack of air opposition, it was handed over to the navy for future strikes and suppressions.
The IAF need not have bothered. The PAF never based any aircraft at Barisal nor had the means to support such a venture. There was a token West Pakistani presence in Barisal consisting of civil armed police rendered ineffective by the Mukti Bahini at the beginning of the war. A day after the air raids, the Pakistani commander holding the town abandoned his positions and with his men made his way to Dacca via river routes, suffering many casualties en route.21
14 SQUADRON RETURNS TO TEZGAON Roughly five minutes after the UN aircraft was to have taken off from Dacca, eight Hunters came screaming in at medium altitude, approaching the airfield from the west. These were from 14 Squadron, led by Wing Commander Sundaresan. The Hunters were armed with napalm and 1000-1b bombs. Again, no aircraft on the ground were spotted, but the Hunters attacked ground installations east of the runway. The Gnat pilots flying top cover noticed several buildings and installations in the eastern part of the airfield were set ablaze. With the Sabres grounded, the Pakistani ground defences put up a heavy barrage of AA fire.
After the Hunters completed their attack and regrouped for the return flight, Flight Lieutenant Samar Das Gupta called out on the R/T that he was running low on fuel. He was asked to climb and fly for range. Das Gupta’s Hunter had probably been hit by anti-aircraft fire or shrapnel, and it was now streaming fuel. As

Gnats from 22 Squadron were flying top cover, Das Gupta was relieved of keeping his tail clear.
Das Gupta caught up with the rest of the formation at Dum Dum, but he had already stretched his luck. As the eight Hunters came in low and peeled off to make the approach, Das Gupta’s engine flamed out on the downwind leg and he had to eject. An additional minute of flying time would have made a difference but it was not to be. This was the third Hunter lost by the squadron on its attacks on Tezgaon. A helicopter from Dum Dum soon picked him up and transported him to Calcutta for a medical check-up.
FIRST SUPERSONICS RETURN TO TEZGAON Less than an hour after the Hunters, 28 Squadron’s MiGs arrived over Tezgaon at 2 p.m. IST. Four aircraft had been armed with bombs earlier in the day and were prepared to take off for
Tezgaon, but were kept on hold due to the temporary truce. With the ceasefire over, these four aircraft were dispatched for Tezgaon. Two additional aircraft armed with K-13 missiles were sent as escort. Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh was leading the attack, with Wing Commander Bishnoi, Dadoo Subaiya and C.D. Chandrasekhar following. Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill and Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhatia flew the escort aircraft.
Even as they pulled up over Tezgaon, the MiG pilots noticed dark earth splotches on the runway, indicating repair work had been carried out overnight. A couple of craters were still evident, including the one created from the early morning raid, but at least half the craters had been filled up by the runway repair crews.
Manbir Singh was the first to drop his bombs on the southern end of the runway on the 35 dumbbell. The Pakistani anti-aircraft guns opened up immediately after Manbir had pulled out. The Pakistani AA gunners had enough practice on the previous two occasions when MiGs had attacked before dawn; this time the AA fire was accurate enough to come close.
Wing Commander Bishnoi, next into the attack, felt his aircraft get hit during the dive and shake violently. As he was close to bomb
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release, he pressed on with the attack, released his bombs and pulled out of the dive. The bombs exploded on the runway about 1,200-1,400 yards down from the 17 dumbbell (northern part of the Tezgaon runway). The bombs drifted slightly and fell on the right edge, but their impact was still enough to damage half the width of the runway and render the right lane’ unserviceable.
C.D. Chandrasekhar followed on Bishnoi’s heels and dropped his bombs close to Bishnoi’s. His bombs fell 1,000 yards up the 17 dumbbell and landed smack in the centre of the runway. The last set of bombs dropped by Dadoo Subaiya were three-fourths of the way up the runway from 17 and these fell on the left edge of the runway, splattering debris and shifting some of its slabs.
Wing Commander Bishnoi successfully recovered his damaged aircraft back to his base. His aircraft responded normally throughout the flight and it was only after landing that he discovered a nine-inch hole in the starboard wing. His aircraft was now due for major repairs that put it out of action for the next couple of days.
The MiG raid was exactly what the PAF had feared: an emphatic negation of their attempts to get back in the air.2 Six or seven of the work crew and army personnel were killed during the raids (the Pakistani press initially reported figures ten times higher). Demoralization set in on the PAF at Tezgaon:
These craters on the runway were about 20 feet deep and 50 feet wide, with volcano-like upward thrusting lips of runway slabs. Craters were deep due to time-delay fuses on these sleek bombs. Quick repairing of runway needs large amounts of sand, with loading and dumping vehicles, cement slab cutting machines and quick-setting cement. None of the equipment and material was available; nor was repair time available due to frequent strikes by fighter-bombers, now orbiting safely at 10,000 feet beyond the AA range with no interceptor to chase them. They would dive steeply along the runway for releasing bombs, exposing themselves to AAA for a very short time. Some raids inflicted casualties on the repairing teams which were doing whatever little they could, with all the handicaps.24
The AOC Tezgaon, Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq concluded it was impossible to repair the damage even if work was done through the day and night; the runway would still not be serviceable by the morning. The pattern of the IAF’s raids indicated the PAF could expect further raids the next morning ensuring any work done would be for nought.
The PA officers helping the PAF thought otherwise: the AA regiment commander Lieutenant Colonel Mohammad Afzal suggested there were enough work crews to continue working. But Inam-ul-Haq had rightly deduced the availability of manpower was not the most pressing problem for the PAF at Tezgaon.
GROUND SUPPORT IN II CORPS (WEST)
The pace of events quickened on 7 December as the Indian Army made significant progress with the capture of two main towns in East Pakistan. First, the 9 Infantry Division secured Jessore cantonment by 12.30 p.m., the town itself falling by the late hours of the afternoon. The taking of the town was relatively bloodless: after facing the onslaught of numerous land attacks and aerial napalm strikes, the Pakistan Army decided to vacate the cantonment and airfield and withdrew either to the Golanda Ghats or to Khulna. Indian troops arrived at the town to find houses in the cantonment area and the local police armoury looted. Their presence, though, restored law and order and prevented reprisals or killings.
In the afternoon, the other major town in II Corps sector, Jhenida, fell to 4 Mountain Division. Securing Jhenida gave the division a staging pad for the subsequent attack on Kushtia to the north, near the Hardinge Railway Bridge over the Padma. Capturing Kushtia and the Hardinge Bridge would cut off Pakistani troops in the north western sector (XXXIII Corps area) and possibly eliminate threats to the main attack on Dacca by 4 and 9 Divisions.
14 Squadron (Hunters from Dum Dum) and 221 Squadron (Sukhois from Panagarh) provided close support for II Corps’ movements. 14 Squadron launched a two-aircraft napalm strike, led by Flight Lieutenant B.A.K. Shetty, on Jessore but Shetty was unable to spot the target and returned with his load intact.
Meanwhile four Canberras from 16 Squadron were sent on daylight interdiction missions on road and railway lines around Khulna town and Sukhoi-7s from Panagarh attacked gun emplacements near the Jessore airfield. The situation at Jessore airfield was fluid: the first Indian troops reached the airfield at 8 a.m. in the morning, but sporadic fighting continued in and around its environs for a while.
Eight sorties were flown by 221 Squadron against these targets; they destroyed several gun emplacements as well as an ordnance storage dump. This marked the first occasion the squadron pilots had used regular bombs against ground targets. 221 Squadron also attacked an army convoy and a train near Jessore. Their day’s tally of close support sorties came to twenty-one making it twentynine for the day in all; their second busiest day of the war.25
GNAT OPERATIONS With the PAF activity all but non-existent, and the truce over Tezgaon in place, the work of the Gnat squadrons changed.
22 Squadron at Dum Dum had already switched roles to ground attack. A morning CAP was mounted while a pair of aircraft was placed on stand-by for ORP, and yet others were prepared for interdiction and close air support missions. The first mission of the day was a successful four-aircraft sortie to attack riverborne targets at Satkhira, led by the flight commander, Squadron Leader K.N.B. ‘Boondi’ Shankar. (As previously noted, a strike had already been mounted on Barisal airfield.)
The CO detailed a second strike to Satkhira and on Shankar’s advice, decided to entrust the mission to Flying Officer P.M. ‘Velul Velankar. Sikand informed Velankar, who had just returned from a CAP, to prepare and set course as soon as possible. Velankar, excited at his first ever mission into enemy territory, set about planning the strike. After some frantic searching, Velankar located a map and started charting the routing to Satkhira. He was yet to calculate his fuel figures when he was told he would have to hurry
up or the sortie would be scrubbed in favour of other priority targets. Velankar would be left with his usual, rather humdrum, CAP duties over Dum Dum.
Flying Officer Batheja, designated No. 2 to Velankar, stepped up to the rescue. He had flown with Boondi Shankar on the first mission of the day to Satkhira, and was sure the Gnats would be able to make the mission to Satkhira on the current fuel profile.
Taking Batheja at his word, Velankar decided to skip mission planning and told him they would set off immediately. Less than eighteen minutes from the time the CO ordered the sortie both pilots were taxiing out for their take-off.
Soon thereafter, the Gnats proceeded towards Satkhira at low level. The two pilots found their targets-a number of mechanized boats and steamers plying on the river at Satkhira-rather easily as the weather cooperated with good visibility. The pair split up and made independent attacks on the boats, each making two passes. At that moment Batheja called on the R/T as he had spotted another target, a large ship three miles away. Not able to resist, both pilots made another attacking run on the ship before pulling away. As they climbed to 5,000 feet, Batheja called out “Bingo!’ Velankar was flabbergasted: they should have been able to carry out the mission with ample fuel. He immediately called the Signal Unit and asked for priority routing and landing:
On the way back to Dum Dum, as the pair flew over an unknown airfield, Batheja suggested landing but Velankar firmly ordered him to climb for range flying. Velankar was adamant in not wanting to lose his wingman even temporarily on his first mission over the border. Certainly the CO (Sikand) would no have liked to see one of his aircraft land at any airfield other than his own.
The Gnats were now above clouds with the ground invisible as they tried to minimize their fuel consumption. Barrackpore 257 SU raised the Gnats again, and Velankar recognized th controller as Flying Officer Bagchi, who had previously directe his squadron during the Boyra air battle. Velankar briefed Bagch on their predicament, and he immediately began guiding th
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pilots through the clouds and on to the direct approach to Dum Dum. The two pilots flew on blindly on minimal power settings. By this time Velankar’s own ‘Bingo’ lights were on. The sight of the Dum Dum runway was met with sighs of relief. Velankar instructed Batheja to land first, not switch off, and try his best to taxi to the dispersal. Batheja complied.
With no further drama, Velankar landed and taxied the Gnat to the dispersal. He jumped out of the cockpit, caught up with Batheja walking to the briefing room, and shouted, ‘Damn it Bats, I thought you said you were absolutely sure it was okay, why the hell were we in such shit?’ Batheja replied, ‘Everything was okay, but we flew hi-lo-hi and not hi-hi-hi!’ A stunned Velankar later described his reaction as ‘If anyone had come close to committing murder it was me’. The sortie was a prime lesson on the importance of careful calculation of fuel and mission parameters.
Further north, 15 Squadron at Bagdogra received orders to move south to Dum Dum and sent five of its Gnats there. More aircraft would follow in the subsequent days. Ground crew and equipment were moved to Dum Dum by the transport aircraft. The other squadron at Bagdogra, No. 7, commenced their move to the western sector. Wing Commander Coelho, along with Squadron Leader Alley, led the pilots on the long flight to the western sector. After a refuelling stop at Kanpur, the squadron landed at Hindon by nightfall. Two aircraft were left behind at Bagdogra for repairs to AA damage. Squadron Leader S.K. Gupta and Flight Lieutenant R.K. Pathak remained behind to fly the aircraft to Nal once the repairs were completed.
CLOSE SUPPORT IN IV CORPS SECTOR Like II Corps, IV Corps made considerable advances in its sector; most air support operations, a total of thirty-nine sorties flown by Hunters and MiGs, were carried out here. The Corps’ objective was the Meghna River line. 8 Division led by Major General K.V. Krishna Rao, advanced to Maulvi Bazar while 23 Division moved along the Comilla Axis, which covered the Mainamati Hills. 57 Division, operating in the central sector, was ordered to capture Brahmanbaria to the north, after capturing Akhaura on 5 December. The division gathered its forces over the next two days and on 7 December, concentrated one brigade each to the northeast and south of Brahmanbaria.
The IAF onslaught on Brahmanbaria continued on 7 December. An early morning strike at 7.45 a.m., called by the army to attack enemy artillery positions, was led by Squadron Leader S.K. Behal. The mission carried out several attacks on a mango grove full of enemy troops as indicated by the FAC. The tempo of the previous few days was telling on the war reserves of the squadron: for this mission, half-loads of ordnance were used: sixteen rockets per aircraft instead of the usual thirty-two.
A second strike mission was slated two hours later, again led by Behal. This time, the operations commander Group Captain Wollen flew as well. The four aircraft, with Manbir Singh and Dadoo Subaiya as the additional pilots, took off at 10 a.m. This mission found better opportunities to wreak damage. Manbir Singh spotted an army convoy and rocketed it on his first pass; in the second attack, he came across a railway engine on a rail track and put that out of action. Subaiya meanwhile attacked other railway targets including a stationary goods train and a railway building. Behal carried out two attacks on some gun positions and buildings, destroying them in the process. The formation returned safely by 11 a.m. This was the second day in succession that Wollen had flown on operations.
28 Squadron flew a third strike in the Brahmanbaria area led by “Chic’ Bapat. It successfully, and without any damage to itself, followed the FAC’s directions to destroy several army vehicles and bunkers.
Of course, 4 Squadron was not to be left behind. Their area of activity was Mymensingh, which bore the brunt of seven MiG sorties. The detachment of Hunters at Kumbhirgram, operated by No. 17 Squadron, flew one mission to Mainamati. A total of ninety-two close air support missions were flown during the day.
THE SYLHET HELI-LIFT The day was marked by a significant contribution by the IAF’s helicopter force based near Agartala. These helicopters flew the first ‘Special Heli-borne Operation’ (SHBO) in support of IV Corps.
IV Corps had three divisions with three distinct axes of thrust into East Pakistani territory. The northernmost, 8th Mountain Division, commanded by Major General K.V. Krishna Rao, was north of Agartala. Its two brigades were to advance north to the Sylhet Bulge, with one brigade taking the ShamshernagarMaulvi Bazar Axis and the other, 59th Mountain Brigade commanded by Brigadier A. Quinn, taking the Kalaura-Sylhet axis. The division had already occupied Shamshernagar airfield, just miles from the Kailashahar airfield on the Indian side of the border. The other brigade advancing towards Sylhet had taken Kalaura on 6 December. Each brigade had advanced ten miles into East Pakistan.
On the evening of 6 December, the Corps Commander, Lieutenant General Sagat Singh met with the Brigade Commander at the Kalaura helipad. Sagat Singh had learned that Sylhet, about
thirty-odd miles away, was being evacuated by the Pakistanis; it was imperative that the Indian Army occupy it at the earliest. A land advance for such a distant target in the time frame required seemed unlikely. But Sagat Singh had a dozen helicopters available at Agartala as corps resources. He informed Quinn one Battalion would be airlifted by these to Sylhet the next day.
The next day Sagat Singh met with Major General Krishna Rao and laid out his plan, and Brigadier Quinn briefed Lieutenant Colonel A.B. Harolikar, CO of the 4/5 Gorkha Rifles (GR) that his unit would take part in the heli-lift. The plan required the entire Battalion to be on ground by the end of the day to possibly link up with another Indian ground thrust from the north in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Even if the plan failed and Sylhet remained in Pakistani hands, the sudden appearance of the heli-borne force could force all troops north of Sylhet to withdraw to the city thus helping the small Indian force advancing from the north.
Colonel Harolikar had reservations about Sylhet being undefended and about the rendezvous happening in the planned time frame, but went ahead with the plan on the insistence of the Brigade commander.
Less than an hour later, Lieutenant General Sagat Singh arrived at the frontline in an Alouette accompanied by Group Captain Chandan Singh (station commander, Jorhat). Quinn accompanied them on a reconnaissance sortie to Sylhet. Chandan Singh had been deputed to IV Corps HQ to facilitate ArmyAir Force cooperation. The two Singhs had developed a good working relationship and between them carried out one of the best planned heli-borne operations in Indian military history.
After surveying the area, the three officers selected a landing site near Mirpara on the northern bank of the Surma River, southeast of Sylhet. They did not detect any Pakistani movement, nor did they encounter any ground fire. This seemingly confirmed Sylhet was undefended.

THE AIRLIFT COMPONENT
The IAF had stationed roughly half of its helicopter fleet with Eastern Air Command. These comprised three Mi-4 units and two Alouette Units. The Mi-4 units were: 110 HU based at Tezpur and led by Squadron Leader C.S. Sandhu; 105 HU based at Kumbhirgram and led by Squadron Leader Chabbra; and 111 HU based at Hashimara and led by Squadron Leader K.C. ‘Nanda’ Cariappa.
The helicopter units were notoperating at fullstrength however. Even though their authorized inventory was ten helicopters each, the three units could muster only about a dozen serviceable helicopters at the start of the war. This was not surprising; the radial piston engines of the Mi-4s were maintenance intensive and underwent greater stress than their equivalents in fixed wing aircraft. Blown cylinders and piston rods during mid-flight were not uncommon, often necessitating forced landings in fields. The wear and tear on these engines had kept serviceability low.
Earlier, at the outbreak of the war, 105 HU and 110 HU congregated at Kailashahar airfield northeast of Agartala, joined by a couple of helicopters from 111 HU. The three HUS mustered fourteen helicopters for use by the Corps.?? These were bolstered by two Mi-4s operated by the Aviation Research Centre and used to support the Special Frontier Force columns under Major General S.S. Uban, operating in the Mizo Hills along the Chittagong Hill tracts.
In addition to the Mi-4s, EAC could call on 112 HU and 115 HU, both of which were equipped with the Alouette III/HAL Chetak helicopter. 112 HU was based at Bagdogra while 115 HU was located at Tezpur. The Alouette units’ inventories were considerably healthier: both HUs were operating at full strength and had eight and nine Alouettes serviceable each.
But only two of these Alouettes were operating in the IV Corps area. These came from 115 HU in Tezpur. One of the Alouettes was based in Kumbhirgram for Search and Recovery (SAR) duties, while the other was located at Teliamura at the Corps HQ as the
personal aircraft for the Corps commander, Licutenant General Sagat Singh
Sagat Singh could also call on one Alouette flight of the Army Aviation Squadron based at Teliamura: 11 AOP Flight, part of 659 AOP Squadron allocated to Eastern Command.
The arrival of a Kilo Flight Alouctte III at Kailashahar soon after the opening days was a welcome addition. This helicopter was manned by Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed (ex-PAF) and Flight Lieutenant Chandra Mohan Singla, the Indian instructor allotted to Kilo Flight.
THE HELI-LIFT The SHBO at Sylhet began in the afternoon at 2.30 p.m., with the first Mi-4s taking off from Kalaura carrying the troops of 4/5 GR. Squadron Leader Sandhu, CO of 105 HU led the first wave of ten Mi-4s. The troops of 4/5 GR had no specialized training in heli-borne operations, indeed, this was the first time they had ever moved by helicopter. Heli-borne operations were still a novelty for the Indian Army and certainly no unit had acquired any specialized expertise or training with helicopters.
The first troops from C Company of 4/5GR disembarked from the Mi-4s at approximately 3p.m. The first four helicopters in the first wave may have disembarked fifty troops in all; these immediately came under Pakistani fire as they landed. By the time the helicopters of the first wave had completed their drops, a company worth of troops had been set down.
The sudden appearance of IAF helicopters and the disembarking troops unnerved the Pakistani Brigade commander at Sylhet. Contrary to Indian expectations, the Pakistanis had not withdrawn troops from Sylhet, nor had they any intentions of doing so. Sagat Singh had expected that the Gorkhas would face minimal resistance, but they were now caught in an awkward situation with a strong enemy just outside their landing area and with lines of supply restricted to aerial ones.
The Pakistan Army now sent an ad-hoc force of troops to the landing zone to engage the IAF helicopters and the Gorkha Rifles
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with small arms fire. The small landing force could have been easily overwhelmed had they been attacked with gumption for in the crucial first hour Indian forces barely measured company strength. But the Pakistan Army preferred to surround the landing area and engage in small arms fire. The Gorkhas fought back vigorously and soon established a perimeter the Pakistan Army was unable to breach. The Gorkhas were carrying only pouch ammunition and had to exercise strict fire discipline, opening fire only when sure of hitting their targets. The Pakistanis had brought in several MMGs and automatic weapons but even then failed to carry out an infantry charge on the landing zone; a bayonet assault by the Pakistanis would have cleared the landing area and put paid to the heli-borne operation. And neither was the initial ad-hoc force reinforced.
When the first wave of helicopters returned to Kalaura with bullet damage, it was obvious this was no unopposed landing. As the Kilo Flight Alouette was the only one in Eastern Command rigged with two rocket pods, Flight Lieutenant C.M. Singla, with his co-pilot Squadron Leader Sultan Ahmed (ex-PAF), took off ahead of the second wave of Mi-4s. Arriving at the helipad, he laid down suppressing fire on Pakistani positions, diverting attention from the Mi-4s that followed him.
The second wave of Mi-4s was led by the flight commander of 105 HU, Flight Lieutenant Pushp Kumar Vaid, and made the twenty-minute flight in receding light carrying with them another company of 4/5 GR troops and their CO Lieutenant Col. Harolikar. Dusk was fast approaching. Sunset was at approximately 4.45 pm; it would be dark at 5.05p.m. It was obviously too late to send the third wave of Mi-4s, and Pakistani ground fire was now steadily on the increase. By the time the day’s operations were called off in the evening, the helicopters had airlifted 254 personnel to the landing zone in two waves over a total of twentytwo sorties.
Flight Lieutenant Vaid carried out the last sortic of the day carrying an air control team (ACT) led by Flying Officer Satish Chandra Sharma. The ACT along with their radio equipment was dropped at the landing area at 5p.m. in almost complete darkness. The ACT came under small arms and mortar fire immediately on landing. Gathering his wits, Sharma assembled his men and moved them to cover. Within minutes he had moved to a vantage position from where he could observe Pakistani positions.
Aware the armed Alouette of the Kilo flight was still in the area Sharma raised its crew on the radio and requested air support. Singla was able to comply:
[When troops were to be inducted by helicopters, I was to give air cover. The Forward Air Controller told me on Rs that he was my pupil from Bidar…being an unstable platform, in our dive to aim and engage targets with rocket pairs we had to come in pretty low and close to our targets. Thus we stayed for long durations over hostile territory at low speeds and height. We took some bullet hits that night….The helicopter got pierced by bullets all over. The engineers did a good job of repairs despite vibrations, etc.29
Under the ACT’s directions, Singia used rockets to lay suppressing fire on Pakistan Army positions near the Surma River as well as the Sylhet Circuit House. A Pakistani account noted:
At the same time, two helicopters flew over the local Circuit House and Kaen Bridge, presumably to reconnoitre the area. Suddenly one helicopter released a bomb which exploded in the compound of the Circuit House. It injured four persons, one intelligence clerk and three policemen. As soldiers rushed to help the wounded, the other helicopter sprayed them with bullets, inflicting further casualties.30
The strike effectively silenced the Pakistani probes on the landing area for the night. By the time Singla returned to Kalaura in his Alouette, he had been flying sorties for four hours on station, during which time he had fired thirty-six rockets on the Pakistani positions. The helicopter was hit multiple times but the damage was not significant. Helicopter operations were not yet done. After the last sortie was flown out at 5 p.m., Group Captain Chandan Singh had ordered the helicopter force to stand down. This upset army commanders who wanted to send in more troops and supplies. After hectic discussion, Chandan Singh directed Flight Lieutenant Vaid to fly another sortie in the dark of the night at 10 p.m. Dressed in the ubiquitous lungi’, a Bengali civilian dress, Vaid and his co-pilot, Flying Officer B.L.K. Reddy carried out three sorties to and from Kalaura, dropping supplies, troops and even evacuating a wounded soldier.
The Pakistan Army had been deceived by the number of sorties flown by the IAF helicopters and had estimated a far greater opposition. It assumed the heli-borne force was being transported by the larger Mi-8 helicopters—which had not entered service yet-and estimates of a brigade-sized force made the rounds. The fierce opposition put up by the Gorkhas in the battle for the landing zone also distorted whatever reasonable estimates the Pakistanis may have had. One can only conjecture

what the Pakistanis would have done if they had known the heliborne landing had only managed to drop 254 troops.2
NOTES 1. Shaheen Foundation, The Story of the Pakistan Air Force: A Saga
of Courage and Honour, Islamabad, Pakistan: Shaheen Foundation,
1988. 2. Ibid. 3. The gunsight of the MiG was a fixed colimetric type with a reticle
in a circular ring pattern projected on a plate of glass at infinity. This was designed for air-to-air firing and was not intended for shallow or steep glide bombing. The pilots switched it on just before the attack commenced; in the dive, they picked the bottom mark of the circular ring as the aiming point and not the centre of the reticle. In a steep dive, with gravity acting on the bomb, it would fall short of the centre of the reticle and would be more likely to hit the bottom of the circular path of diamonds. Unlike the Hunter’s gyro gunsight, this ring was a fixed projection and of no use in shallow glide bombing, Bishnoi, B.K., AVM, Thunder over Dacca’, Vayu Aerospace Review,
January 1997. 5. Interview with Group Captain S.V. Ratnaparki. 6. Interview with Group Captain H.S.K. Sardesai. 7. Fricker, John, ‘Post-Mortem of an Air War’, Air Enthusiast, Volume
2, No. 7, May 1972. 8. Recorded as 1041 EPT in the UN Representatives dispatch.
The war diary of 28 Squadron mentions the pilots were told to look for a designated target ‘PIA Boeing 707’. It is possible that the formation was to provide an air umbrella over the Tezgaon airfield while the UN C-130 carried out its evacuation mission. The C-130 was to be followed by a Boeing 707 as well.
The arrival of the foreign nationals and the subsequent MiG attack was captured on film by TV crews at Dacca. Footage available on youtube.com shows women and children getting into trenches at
the airfield. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TR9bmQ-DfrY 11. Personal correspondence between Air Commodore N. Chatrath
and the authors. 12. HRC Report. 13. HRC Report and Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq. 14. Ahmed, Air Commodore Khaleel, Legend of Tail Choppers: 50 years
of Excellence, PAF Book Club. 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid. 17. The identity of the MiG pilot is unknown. According to 28
Squadron’s diary, it was not one of their members. This leaves the pilots of 4 Squadron or 30 Squadron as candidates. Anecdotal evidence suggests it might have been Squadron Leader S.V. Pathak of 30 Squadron. Pathak had been shot down flying a Vampire on the first day of the 1965 war; if this claim is correct, then this daring raid would certainly have made for a great comeback by Pathak. In any case, it is unlikely the MiG pilot ever knew his lone wolf attack on the runway had such a devastating effect on the PAF morale. 30 Squadron still insists the sobriquet ‘Runway Busters’ is shared by
their members as much as any other MiG Squadron with EAC. 18. G.M. Hiranandani, Transition to Triumph: History of the Indian Navy,
1965-1975. New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2000. 19. Oliver, Thomas W., The United Nations in Bangladesh, Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1978. 20. Post-war damage assessment report. 21. HRC Report, Supplementary Report, Chapter VIII. 22. ‘He was faced with Hobson’s choice: he could do “range flying”,
i.e., climb to a medium altitude and fly at an optimum speed to conserve fuel. However this meant straggling behind the main formation, and become an easy target to any pursuing F-86 that decided to give chase. Or he could try to get out of hostile territory as fast as he can. Das Gupta was also concerned about ejecting over Pakistani territory; they still had not heard about the fate of at least two of the pilots missing on the first day. The decision to get out of hostile territory soonest also weighed heavy on his mind and he chose to fly for speed. The alternative would have also required some of the other aircraft to slow down to Das Gupta’s speed to form a protective escort; however the main formation failed to do so and he came back fast.’-Wing Commander S.E Soares;
interview with authors. 23. HRC Report: Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq. 24. Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq, ‘Saga of East Pakistan’, Defence
Fournal, 2009. 25. The havoc wreaked by the air strikes against the Pakistani ground
troops in Jessore sector is recounted in a Sunday Times report published in London a few days later. The report quoted a foreign correspondent, Philip Jecobsan:
The gruesome trail that marked the headlong retreat of the Pakistan Army from its ‘impregnable position in Jessore began a few miles outside the town. The tarmac road was scarred and furrowed by machine gun bullets and rockets. A dozen burnt in poses of agony. Some were charred and blackened, others had terrible, fly-covered wounds. They had been caught by Indian tanks tearing through Jessore and by jet fighters. They had abandoned their vehicles and ran vainly
for the ditches… 26. Army nomenclature for 4th Batallion, Sth Gorkha Rifles
Regiment’. 27. P.C. Lal notes that eleven helicopters between 105 and 110 were
joined by two helicopters from 111 HU later on. The helicopter force of Eastern Air Command consisted of twenty Mi-4 helicopters of which twelve were serviceable and twenty-one Alouette helicopters of which seventeen were serviceable. There was no shortage of pilots and aircrew to operate these machines as
all the five HUs had their full establishment of pilots. 29. Isser, Air Commodore Rajesh, The Purple Legacy: Indian Air Force
Helicopters in Service of the Nation, New Delhi: Pentagon Press,
2012, pp. 70-71. 30. Salik, Siddiq, Witness to Surrender, Karachi: Oxford University Press,
1977, p. 169. Salik puts the date of the attack as 8 December. There was a separate attack on the Sylhet Circuit House on 8 December by Gnats from Kumbhirgram. The description of two helicopters participating in the attack is also significant. Salik’s sources may have thought other Alouettes in the area were supporting Singla’s helicopter. For his role in providing air support to the heli-landing troops C.M. Singla was awarded the Vir Chakra. Sultan Mahmood, his co-pilot (and CO of the Kilo Flight) was awarded the Bir Uttam by the free Bangladesh government. They thus form a unique crew,
one decorated by two different nations. 32. Though it was in the interests of the Indian forces to have kept the Pakistanis in the dark about the strength of the heli-borne force, the actual strength of the Sylhet force was revealed by a news report in Times of India published on the morning of 9 December. The report identified the unit that was heli-lifted and put their strength at 600 men’. Other newspapers published on the day carried these vital details as well; the Indian Express put the strength as 380 troops. The source of these reports was public relations dispatches from EAC HQ!

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SEVEN
Unopposed in the Skies

ATTACK OF THE CARIBOUS Gauhatis original residents had been 33 Squadron, a transport unit entrusted with tactical supply and logistical air support in India’s north-eastern states. The squadron flew Caribous, a twin piston-engined high-winged transport aircraft-manufactured by De Havilland Canada-that was one of the first to feature the military cargo layout of a tail enabling the use of a loading ramp in the rear.’
The Caribou was procured after India’s disastrous 1962 war with the People’s Republic of China; the first two in IAF service were presented from USAF stocks to India in January 1963. Sixteen Caribous ordered from Canada began arriving in September 1963. As the nucleus of 33 Squadron, these were committed to tactical transport and supply in NEFA (North Eastern Frontier Agency) and Assam. Blessed with short take-off and landing (STOL) capabilities, the Caribou could operate from unprepared airstrips and landing grounds, its tight turning radius permitted entry into valleys Dakotas and C-119 Packets dared not enter. 33 Squadron used the aircraft effectively in the northeast as its pilots earned laurels for their skill and dedication. In 1968, some replacement Caribous were procured for attrition and maintenance reserves. In 1971, 33 Squadron was led by Wing Commander Suresh Seetharam Sane VM, who as a young Flight Lieutenant in 1963 had been a member of the first batch of four IAF pilots trained in the USA on the Caribou. Before taking over as the CO in 1969, Sane had logged thousands of hours in NEFA on the Caribou. Sane was highly respected as both an officer and a pilot; without exaggeration, 33 Squadron’s pilots often carried out their hazardous missions more for Sane than for country’. He was ably assisted by his navigation leader, Squadron Leader S.K. Verma, who was responsible for training young navigators for operational status, and by flight commander Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill. The squadron had over forty officers posted to it but only a handful of the pilots and navigators were operationally cleared for sorties. In preparation for the war, the squadron had undertaken extensive practice in low flying, usually to aid supply dropping near the frontline. The technical officers had toiled many nights to bring unprecedented levels of serviceability to the squadron’s aircraft: all sixteen Caribous on strength at the outbreak of the war were available for operational flying.
On 7 December, the morning briefing had informed a select few operational pilots of an evening briefing and the possibility of operational flights. Besides the CO Wing Commander Sane and his flight commander Squadron Leader Gill, these pilots, among others, included Flight Lieutenant Naval Singh, Flight Lieutenant Dalinder Singh Kohli, Flying Officer Rudra Kumar Bishnoi and Flight Lieutenant Rajeshwar Prasad.
The briefing was carried out by Wing Commander V.C. Mankotia, the station commander, and Wing Commander Sane. The officers that gathered in the briefing room after 7 p.m. were in for a surprise. Most were expecting a supply drop mission over the front lines in the dark but instead, 33 Squadron was to send four Caribous to drop bombs over Dacca. Mankotia’s announcement sparked an immediate buzz around the room. The Caribous were to be flown to Jorhat to load 1000-1b bombs, and then to Tezgaon in the moonlit night. Bombing would be carried out at 6000 feet altitude with radio silence to be maintained on the outbound leg.

Mankotia would lead the first aircraft along with Sane, followed at ten-minute intervals by three more aircraft. Mankotia asked whether any of the officers present had reservations about the plan and received no reply.
The plan to use Caribous as bombers had been pitched to EAC HQ by Mankotia. EAC did not have operational control over the Canberras at Gorakhpur and Mankotia’s suggestion to use transport aircraft to bomb Tezgaon coincided with the need to harass the PAF at night. The plan was accepted, put into motion, and the early hours of 8 December earmarked for its execution.
The Caribou pilots did not mind this novel and onerous task, one requiring them to transcend their lack of bombing training and any problems with the Caribou in its new role. In particular, operating live bombs made for a dramatic change from handling docile cargo like food and ammunition. Bomb delivery would be accomplished by strapping bombs onto a skid-board on a switchoperated electrical conveyor, which was then pushed off the rear of the aircraft. Each skid-board accommodated two 500-1b bombs; the cargo hold carried five skid-boards, which often jammed with slight shifting in position and required manual manipulation by an ejection crew in the rear cargo compartment, one wide enough for a regular jeep but not for a crew member to fit between the jeep and the aircraft hold.
The Caribous’ bombs had to be loaded at Jorhat, initially conceived as the base for An-12 bomber operations and thus possessing a stockpile of 1,000-lb bombs. Late on the evening of 7 December, four Caribous led by Wing Commander Sane flew to Jorhat to load the bombs. Sane’s aircraft had Mankotia on board. At Jorhat, the ground crew worked quickly and with remarkable efficiency to load each aircraft with ten bombs. The crews were briefed on their task and the flight profile while navigators prepared maps and route charts. The outbound flight to Tezgaon would be at low level. There was supposedly sufficient moonlight to ensure the pilots could avoid major obstructions along their route.

A little after midnight, the skies over Jorhat reverberated with the sound of Pratt and Whitney twin Wasp engines as the Caribous climbed into the air carrying their deadly load. Taking off at tenminute intervals, each aircraft settled down for the long flight at low level. The Caribous flew in complete black-out conditions in strict radio silence. The lead aircraft was captained by Wing Commander Mankotia and Sane; the second aircraft, following ten minutes behind was flown by Squadron Leader Gill. Flight Lieutenant Naval Singh and Flying Officer R.K. Bishnoi were in the third aircraft, followed by the final crew, Flight Lieutenants D.S. Kohli and Rajeshwar Prasad.
Flying Caribous at night was a hazardous exercise. Though the squadron was experienced in carrying out heavy paradrops by night, using lights to maintain inter-aircraft separation, there were few visible landmarks in the dark. The crew picked up features they could make out on the ground; however cloud cover, combined with the darkness, ensured they lost sight of the features yet again. It became difficult to identify the target pointers even by the helpful moonlight.
Short of Dacca, the Caribous reached the IP for the target. They started climbing to their optimum bombing height of 6,500 feet, well outside the lethal range of anti-aircraft guns, and well placed for IAF radar at Shillong to pick them up and give them a fix on their position if needed. Mankotia and his pilots had to keep the aircraft steady as any violent movements would result in the skid-boards shifting and jamming against the fuselage on the conveyor. There was one ejection crew member in the rear working feverishly, unlashing the bombs on the skid-boards and removing safeties off bomb fuses. The rear ramp doors consisting of an upper portion that folded upwards and a lower portion that lowered were already open.
The Caribou’s targets were to be identified by moonlight. Fortunately Tezgaon’s gleaming runway would be clearly visible even at night. Once the runway was in sight, the bombing run commenced with no electronic aids for bomb release timing. The Caribou pilots used a combination of guesswork and instinct to time the electrical switch to start the conveyor in the rear. The switch had to be flipped with a simultaneous opening of the throttle to full power, which raised the nose and put the aircraft in a climb. The skid-boards, helped both by the conveyor as well as gravity, slowly made their way out and fell away from the rear into the dark. The pilot was then updated over the intercom about the progress of the load as it made its way out. The flight engineer would start a call, ‘Load, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, gone!’ As the skid-boards and the bombs disappeared over the end of the bay into the vast dark landscape below, the pilots felt the loss of weight coincide with the increased rate of climb as the now empty Caribou thrust upwards at full power.
Each Caribou pilot released ten 1000-1b bombs into the darkened cityscape before heading back to Gauhati. Many of their bombs disappeared in the marshy land surrounding the airfield; a few exploded on the ground. As the fourth aircraft flown by D.S. Kohli flew over Tezgaon, he noted sporadic small fires on the ground that acted as target indicators. The heavy anti-aircraft fire that opened up as he flew over the airfield was an affirmation that his navigator had accurately brought their aircraft to its target.
It was only after their bombs were dropped and the Caribous executed a 180-degree turn to the north that radio silence was broken. A quick call to 503 SU at Shillong for pigeons to base’ (direct routing to base) was made and the four Caribous turned for home.
The trip from Jorhat to Dacca and back to Gauhati took more than four hours on the lumbering Caribous; all four returned safely. The objective of the Caribou raid had been to harass the PAF to make sure there was no rest for those on the ground. As Canberras were engaged elsewhere, the Caribous maintained the tempo by night. They succeeded; there was no rest for the PAF at night.

THE LONE RANGER STRIKES AGAIN

The Caribous’ bombing was sufficient to harass the PAF and hold the skies of Dacca till the IAF’s next gambit. Repeating the previous day’s tactic, a solitary MiG was dispatched from Gauhati to bomb Tezgaon’s runway before dawn on 8 December The previous night, Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh had been enjoying a drink with his squadron mates at the Officers’ Mess when he was called to meet the CO. Manbir Singh made his way to, of all places, the ladies restroom, where Wing Commander Bishnoi was engaged in a discussion with Group Captain Wollen; clearly the two senior officers on base cared little where they held their deliberations. They called in Manbir Singh and informed him he would fly a bombing sortie to Tezgaon in the early hours of the morning. Manbir Singh’s stint at the bar was over; he finished his dinner and headed to the aircrew room at station headquarters to get some vital sleep.
Manbir Singh ordered the ground crew to prepare an aircraft for a bombing sortie at 2 a.m., proceeded to the aircrew room, and lay down in his flying suit. Seemingly moments later, his alarm clock went off. Manbir Singh proceeded to his aircraft; at that early hour heavy mist had sharply reduced visibility. After carrying out checks and starting up the aircraft, Manbir Singh taxied the aircraft to the end of the runway, and as he turned for take-off, noticed he could not see the runway lights beyond 100 yards:
I wondered if runway lights were on and enquired from the control tower if all the runway lights were on. The controller told me they were. I then put on the after burner and released the brakes. The aircraft began to accelerate and as it rolled forward I kept it on the centre white line of the runway with the help of the landing light. I kept seeing the runway lights coming up as the aircraft accelerated to take-off speed. After taking off, I reached about 100 mtrs height where it suddenly became clear. I could see the stars in the clear sky above and the half-moon in the eastern part of the sky. I could see the hilltops in the south.
I turned south towards Dacca and levelled off about 200 mtrs above the hilltops.
Manbir Singh headed for the initial point-a rail and road bridge over one of the tributaries of the Brahmaputra River near the town of Ghorashal-approximately twenty miles northeast of Dacca. He cleared the hills near Shillong at Cherrapunji and descended to the relatively flat terrain of East Pakistan at 900 kmph while maintaining an altitude of 300 feet. At that altitude the pressure altimeter of the MiG was useless-displaying zero feet-forcing Manbir Singh to depend on the radio altimeter. The heavy mist covering the ground was an asset as it reflected the bright light from the moon and provided a reference point for maintaining attitude and altitude. Once in a while the mist would break, revealing the sparkling flowing waters of a river. Manbir Singh reached his initial point with little difficulty and from the bridges over Ghorashal turned to the right to head towards Tezgaon. He had taken off from Gauhati at 3.25 a.m., and after approximately twenty-five minutes of flying, having reached Tezgaon’s vicinity, climbed to 3,000 feet to try and spot Tezgaon’s runway. Dawn was still two hours away and the sun lay below the horizon. In the poor light, Manbir Singh had some difficulty spotting the camouflaged Tezgaon runway though the Kurmitola runway shone clearly in the moonlight on his right. Once it was identified, his attack began:
I positioned myself in the correct place for an attack from north to south along the runway and armed the bombs before I entered into a 45-degree dive. I put the sight on the centre of the runway. When I reached 1,000 mtrs height I released the bombs…. As I pulled out of the dive and turned hard left and upwards, I saw the bombs bursting on the runway and the ack-ack guns opened up. The barrage of fire over the airfield looked beautiful, like the fireworks in the closing ceremony of Olympics.?
But the AA fire had opened up well after Manbir Singh exited the airfield area. By then his bombs had fallen on the southern
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portion of the runway, creating further craters. At 4.12 a.m. Manbir Singh returned without incident to Gauhati.
MGS RETURN TO THE AIRFIELDS The IAF was now convinced the Tezgaon runway was damaged enough to be unusable for one more day. However there was a possibility the PAF could cart Sabres by road from Tezgaon to Kurmitola and operate from there. Though the Kurmitola runway had been damaged in two bombing attacks, it could still be made usable.) Group Captain Wollen thus tasked 28 Squadron with a return to Kurmitola to ensure its runway was irreparable. Simultaneously, to maintain pressure on Tezgaon, 4 Squadron was tasked with the first raid during daylight hours.
It detailed two MiGs carrying bombs, flown by the CO, Wing Commander Gole, and Ashley Rodrigues. Another two MiGs armed with K-13s and flown by Flight Lieutenant Hemant Sardesai and Flying Officer Ajit Bhavnani were sent as escorts. The mission took off at 7 a.m.; while Sardesai and Bhavnani set up orbit over the airfield, the CO and his wingman went in for a bombing attack. Tezgaon runway was again successfully hit as Gole and Rodrigues’ bombs found their mark. Sporadic AA fire was encountered but all four aircraft were unscathed as they returned to Gauhati.
Unknown to the IAF pilots, the Pakistani AA gun crews had been ordered to restrict ammunition expenditure. Not only had IAF attacks succeeded in wiping out many of their ammunition pits but the guns had expended so much ammunition in the first four days that there was danger of their supply running out. The air defence CO, Lieutenant Colonel Afzal, issued orders for the 37 mm guns to not be fired for more than three rounds per attack. The 14.5 mm quad guns were only to be fired two barrels at a time in bursts of twelve rounds per barrel.
Elsewhere, 28 Squadron attacked Kurmitola with four MiG-21s carrying bombs; another two flew cover, armed with missiles. The attack component was led by Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill, with Flight Lieutenants V. Mehta, ‘Dadoo’ Subaiya and N. S. Malhi as members; Wing Commander Bishnoi and Flight Lieutenant Bhalla escorted them. Bishnoi, still seething over the IAF’s failure to provide photographs of the airfield prior to the war or during the attacks to his pilots, had decided to carry his personal 35 mm film camera for a little private photo reconnaissance.
The formation arrived over Kurmitola at 7.30 a.m.; the craters from the previous raids had not been repaired. The runway was successfully bombed along its length: Gill and Mehta dropped their bombs on the first half of the runway down the 14 dumbbell, the northern end of the runway; Subaiya scored a direct hit in the middle of the runway; Malhi dropped his bombs towards the 32 dumbbell, the southern end. Meanwhile Bishnoi, flying top cover, took pictures of the attack. As the bombs exploded, Bishnoi half-rolled his MiG-21 upside down, and with his handheld camera looking down on the runway, captured graphic images of the mushrooming clouds of dust and debris. As at Tezgaon, there was little anti-aircraft fire and the formation turned back to Gauhati.
Bishnoi had one last task to accomplish. He headed towards Tezgaon airfield and made a few passes taking photographs of the blast pens and the dispersal areas even as he executed an aileron roll in his MiG. Bishnoi’s runs over Tezgaon were clearly visible to PAF officers on the ground. For Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain, the MiG-21 executing rolls overhead was salt in their wounds:
The only other time that I got sentimental happened the very next morning (8 December). As I was having breakfast I saw an IAF MiG-21 come over Tezgaon airfield and do victory rolls over the runway. I could not hold my tears once again. The feelings of helplessness and revenge were so strong that I immediately rushed to the AOC Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq Khan’s Office. I requested his permission to get airborne from a road that ran along the ATC Tower, to be able to challenge the IAF for one last time in the air. The AOC told me to calm down and did not agree.’ Inam-ul-Haq prohibited Dilawar’s wild plan because he had given up on the Pakistan Army. A couple of hours after Bishnoi’s sortie, Inam-ul-Haq’s daily dispatch to Pak Air HQ in the west stated:
I think within 48 hours they are likely to engage DACCA. We have already started destroying TOP SECRET papers are preparing to demolish all vital equipment… I do not think we shall be able to fly much. So I am putting my maintenance personnel on guard duties and ground combatants. I doubt if we shall be able to fly any more.
Bishnoi returned to Gauhati; the photographs he took were processed, developed and sent to EAC HQ to drive home the point that the pilots should have had such photographs earlier.
EAC had its own plans to photograph the two airfields. To assess the damage done by four days of bombing, EAC requested Air HQ to send Canberras from 106 Strategic Recce Squadron, then based in Agra under Wing Commander R.S. Benegal, and equipped with six PR Canberras and a trainer. The other flight in the squadron consisted of three Dakotas used for survey work.
For Air HQ’s tasks, Benegal allocated three aircraft: one to photograph Kurmitola and Tezgaon; the second to photograph Chittagong and Cox Bazar (the intelligence from this sortie would also be routed to the Indian Navy to aid their operational planning). These aircraft also flew over Mainamati, Comilla, and Bhairab Bazaar at the Indian Army’s request. The last aircraft would cover Jessore and Ishurdi airfields and surrounding areas.
This mission was a joint army and air force requirement: the army was preparing to mop up any Pakistani remnants in the area, the TAF to use Jessore airfield as a forward airbase. To achieve surprise all aircraft would arrive at 2.35 p.m.
Benegal undertook the riskiest mission of flying over Tezgaon and Kurmitola. MiGs from Gauhati escorted him even though Sabre attacks were unlikely in light of the damage to the runways and taxiway. Benegal and his navigator, Flight Lieutenant G.C.S. Rajwar encountered only mild AA fire during the photo run. Two MiGs from 28 Squadron, flown by Flight Lieutenants Manbir Singh and Vinod Bhalla escorted Benegal’s Canberra. Benegal’s photographs of Kurmitola and Tezgaon airfields became oft reproduced symbols of the IAF’s air superiority over East Pakistan for their graphic depiction of the effectiveness of the MiGs’ bombing: the runways showed craters along their entire length. Bishnoi’s photographs too, eventually reached EAC and the SASO sent a note acknowledging their usefulness.
Simultaneously, the Canberra over Cox Bazaar, Chittagong airfield and the harbour confirmed the absence of the PAF and offensive naval ships while the Canberra operating in the Jessore sector brought back valuable images of the airfield and Pakistan army egress roads.
The attacks on Tezgaon and Kurmitola made up most of the counter air missions of the day. The other airfield to receive attention from the IAF was Ishurdi airfield north of Kushtia, visited by the Gnats from 22 Squadron at Dum Dum.
SPECIAL TARGETS: JOYDEBPUR ORDNANCE FACTORY After focusing solely on counter air and close support, the IAT began the identification of, and attacks on, targets of strategic significance, i.e., those able to impact a longer duration war. The decreasing demand for close support and the grounding of PAF Sabres contributed to this diversion. One such target was the Joydebpur Ordnance Factory, fifteen miles north of Tezgaon, a large complex of buildings, workshops, and stores in a walled area 1,200 feet by 1,200 feet.
MiGs from Gauhati carried out the first attacks. The aircraft returning from the earlier attacks on Dacca’s airfields were quickly turned around for this new target. 4 Squadron’s sortie was led by Squadron Leader Ratnaparki, accompanied by Sukrut Raj, S.S. Tyagi and Hemant Sardesai. On reaching the target, one located in an industrial area, Ratnaparki was not convinced it was an ordnance factory. There was little camouflage, no identifiable ammunition storage areas, and no anti-aircraft fire; instead, the supposed ordnance factory was surrounded by similar looking industrial complexes that made identification difficult.
Rather than bomb a civilian target, Ratnaparki chose to scrub the mission and led the aircraft, each carrying two 500-kg bombs, one under each wing, back to base. But this return was not straightforward. A MiG-21FL had the highest landing speed of any IAF aircraft; with two unexpended bombs, the pilots had to touch down at higher landing speeds and shallower angles than usual. A hard landing could shake loose a bomb, but fortunately all four pilots landed without incident. On confirming the target was indeed the ordnance factory, the pilots were ordered to return and complete the attack with MiGs re-armed with 57 mm rockets.
While the re-arming was in progress, 28 Squadron’s first mission led by Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill, with Vishu Mehta, Dadoo Subaiya and J. S. Malhi attacked the factory complex. The 500-kg bombs were dropped on factory buildings and installations but the resulting damage could not be assessed. The formation returned by 1.30 p.m.
The onslaught on Joydebpur continued when 4 Squadron’s MiGs-Ratnaparki’s formation-returned to the site and plastered it with rockets. They were followed by four aircraft of 28 Squadron at 4.15 p.m., led by Wing Commander Bishnoi, on the last mission of the day. This formation scored at least one direct hit on a factory building with its 500-kg bombs; besides rendering further production potentially unsafe, the bombing let Pakistani war planners know the production facility was on the IAF’s hit list.
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT-II CORPS AREA Close support missions took up the bulk of the day’s sorties with ninety-six sorties flown in direct support of the army’s advance and another twenty-five on behalf of EAC. In the II Corps sector, Gnats and Hunters from Kalaikunda and Sukhois from Panagarh were active. 221 Squadron flew eight sorties, attacking fuel and ammunition dumps at Magura, a known Pakistan army bastion and the target for 9 Infantry Division’s offensive for the day. Magura was also the target for 22 Squadron, whose Gnats were used to attack Pakistani troops and tanks, and Jessore, Barisal and Ishurdi airfields.
Meanwhile 14 Squadron launched missions against river traffic in the Khulna sector in response to the Indian Army informing advance HQ Pakistani forces were planning to use ferries to withdraw troops to Dacca. A two-aircraft mission to Golanda Ferry Ghats and a four-aircraft mission to Chandpur ferry returned after accounting for several boats. The CO Wing Commander Sundaresan led another four-aircraft mission against riverine traffic on the Padma while other missions, led by the flight commander Squadron Leader Sachdeva, were carried out on Chandpur.
The last sorties of 14 Squadron at 3 p.m. produced some minor flutters for its pilots. Two Hunters were sent to attack ground targets at Lakshyam Yard while another four aircraft attacked fuel tanks at Narayanganj. The mission to Lakshyam identified

some entrenched Pakistan Army bunkers and gun positions, which were promptly assaulted; the Hunter pilots also destroyed a supply train carrying oil and ammunition.
At the end of the attack, Flight Lieutenant Mone discovered his fuel level was low. The formation returned to Dum Dum and Mone landed first as a precaution. The other two aircraft, flown by Flight Lieutenants Mohan and B.A.K. Shetty could not land as an Indian Airlines Caravelle and Boeing 737 were in orbit. Once the airliners had landed, another call for an expedited landing was made by Sundaresan’s formation. Mohan and Shetty set up orbit and were the last pilots on the ground.
Meanwhile, Alizes from the INS Vikrant mined Chalna, Mangla and Khulna ports, rendering them unusable by the Pakistani Navy.
XXXIII CORPS AND 101 CZ “To the north, the IAF launched over two-dozen close support sorties in the XXXTII Corps and 101 Communication Zone (101 CZ) sector. With IAF squadrons from Bagdogra moved to other sectors, the IAF was represented by two Hunter squadrons–17 and 37—from Hashimara.
4 Squadron lent a hand by flying sorties to Jamalpur town in the 101 Communication Zone areas. A battalion strong Pakistani garrison based at Jamalpur (31 Baluch commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Sultan Ahmed) had held up the 91 Infantry Brigade commanded by Brigadier H.S. Kler advancing from the north, which now encircled Jamalpur and called in air strikes.
IV CORPS SECTOR The bulk of the day’s close support missions, nearly half of all flown in the east, were undertaken in the Eastern IV Corps sector to support the three divisions of the corps advancing along the Sylhet, Akhaura-Brahmanbaria and the Comilla-Chandpur axes.
A mission flown by Wing Commander Chatrath, CO of 17 Squadron, against a railway target near Dacca in the IV Corps area was particularly memorable:
Denying the enemy its modes of transportation carly on is obviously a great advantage. I fondly recall a strike mission on a railway junction close to Dacca on 8 or 9 December. As is the normal practice on such missions, there were two of us carrying no external loads (bombs or R/Ps) to enable us to enhance our operational ranges. We only had our 30 mm aircraft guns. There was no problem in getting to the targeted railway junction and adopting our circular attack mode. We started our strafing attacks. Whilst pulling out of the third or fourth attack, this particular one, an engine, I experienced a hard thud on my aircraft and knew that I had been hit. I immediately turned towards base, continuing to gain height and transmitted to my No. 2 to abandon the strike and to follow me. On reaching a safe height I requested he get close and under to see where I had been hit. (Unfortunately I forget the name of my No. 2 on this mission.) He could not see any damage to my aircraft.
Throughout my gentle climb I was continuously scanning my instrument panel. There was no indication of any malfunction. The trusted and famed Rolls Royce Avon engine continued to purr, indicting no loss of thrust. I was however not taking any chances and did not touch my throttle settings and remember handling the controls ever so gingerly. Dacca to Hashimara was quite a distance and it was good to be back over home territory. Ejecting over enemy territory cannot be much fun.
I had transmitted my predicament to base and all rescue and fire-fighting services had been alerted. Even on approaching the base, I was reluctant to change the throttle settings lest I had a flameout and would have to carry out a dead stick landing. I happily recall the final approach and the gentlest touchdown I had ever made on a Hunter. Wing Commander Gomes, the senior technical officer, and his able crew were standing by just off the runway. On seeing my aircraft, they frantically signalled for me to immediately switch off the engine. An unexploded shell (warhead) was partially sticking out inches from my right air intake.
After a very cautious examination of the damage, I requested Wing Commander Gomez if I could have the warhead (shell) as a souvenir after it had been dislodged. There was a complete silence and it was only after a while that I heard a technical warrant officer remark that it was only because I was crazy that god looked down kindly on me and also my dog that never left my side throughout the operations.
The unexploded shell lodged so close to the air intake was a ricochet from my own guns picked up during the strafing attack. I had pulled out much too low having pressed home the attack. The heat of the moment or excessive enthusiasm was no excuse for this grave error. I am happy to write that the damaged Hunter required only patch repair work and was soon back on the line. I am firmly convinced that (along with) my maker and my dog, I also must have the silent prayers of my wife on each sortie.”
SYLHET HELI-LIFT The Sylhet helicopter lift resumed at 3 a.m. on 8 December. By sunrise, the Mi-4s had flown in-along with ten tons of equipment and supplies–279 troops, bringing the troop strength to 584. The heli-lift came to a standstill in the morning as the Pakistan Army increased pressure on the Gorkhas at the landing area; to aid them, a mountain gun was lifted into the perimeter held by the Gorkhas.
The IAF, via Hunters and Gnats launched from Kumbhirgram, now delivered suppressing fire on Pakistani troops at Sylhet to relieve the pressure on the Gorkhas. A special sorticably assisted by the air control team led by Flying Officer S.C. Sharma-was flown by Gnats of 24 Squadron against the Circuit House in Sylhet.
Maulvi Bazaar, south of Sylhet, was an objective for one of the brigades of General Krishna Rao’s 8 Division, whose advance troops were already in contact with the Pakistan Army. An assault planned for the previous night had been postponed and the town made the target for an aerial bombardment, which included over twenty strikes from 17 Squadron (Ilunters from Kumbhirgram) and 37 Squadron (Hunters from Hashimara). Gnats from 24 Squadron also took part in some of these missions.
In the evening, an artillery shell knocked out the Pakistani ammunition dump inducing chaos and panic. The Pakistan Army withdrew in a hurry as Maulvi Bazaar fell into Indian hands with minimal casualties.
Meanwhile 57 Division in the Akhaura sector advanced along the Ashuganj road and outflanked Brahmanbaria town. Three MiGs from 28 Squadron, led by Squadron Leader Behal, provided offensive support early in the morning. They attacked ammunition dumps and other targets north of a railway line near Brahmanbaria as the Pakistan Army withdrew and Indian troops occupied Brahmanbaria by day’s end. Another three aircraft mission by 28 Squadron caught a Pakistani jeep convoy withdrawing from Brahmanbaria to Bhairab Bazaar. They made short work of the target even though each aircraft had only a half-load of sixteen 57 mm rockets each instead of the usual thirty-two.
57 Division now commenced its advance towards Bhairab Bazaar town on the other side of the Meghna River. The imposing Ashuganj Bridge connected the town; its capture would enable IV Corps to achieve its original objective of the Meghna River line.
The last Division operating with IV Corps, 23 Mountain Division, made significant progress in the Comilla sector south of Akhaura. During the day, the Pakistan Army vacated Comilla, but refused to budge from the nearby Mainamati cantonment. The Pakistan Army had some gun positions in the Lalmai hills that provided support for these positions. Manbir Singh led 28 Squadron’s first close support mission at 11 a.m., his wingman was Group Captain Wollen with Flight Lieutenant C.D. Chandrasekhar and Flying Officer K.S. Raghavachari making up the rest of the formation. The FAC on the ground pointed out Pakistani gun positions, four of which (along with a bunker) were claimed destroyed.
DAILY SUMMARY The IAF had a reasonably good day on 8 December. 121 close support missions were flown; fifty-five of these supported IV Corps. Il Corps in the west and IV Corps in the cast had made considerable progress while EAC knew Tezgaon had been damaged beyond repair. Not only was the runway peppered with huge craters, there seemed to be no effort by the PAF to repair it. The IAF rightly deduced it had control of the skies. With the army’s close support requests being adequately handled, TAF planners sought to identify additional targets for their operations. As such, IAF squadrons were instructed to target riverine traffic and shipping for the next twenty-four hours: any boat, ship or vessel on East Pakistan’s rivers and waterways was to be targeted to knock out the little movement capability the Pakistan Army had and further demoralize its troops.
9 DECEMBER THE KARWAN BAZAAR BOMBING On the night of 8 December, 33 Squadron returned to Tezgaon to harass the PAE Four Caribous attacked Tezgaon and Kurmitola airfields at ten-minute intervals, dropping their bomb loads throughout the night. The Caribou, limited to area bombing and too inaccurate for precision strikes, still possessed considerable nuisance value in disrupting efforts at repairing disabled runways. The aircraft were captained by Wing Commander Sane, Flight Lieutenant D.S. Kohli, Flight Lieutenant Naval Singh and Flying Officer R.K. Bishnoi. This time the bombing’s results on the ground were different and tragic. While most of the Caribous found their target correctly, Naval Singh’s bombs fell a mile south of Tezgaon airfield.12
The morning revealed that four bombs had fallen on the Rahmat-e-Alam Islamic mission orphanage, a large compound of several huts and shanty buildings in the Karwan Bazaar area near the Tezgaon Railway gate, a mile southeast of the airfield. The destruction and casualties caused by the bombs in the orphanage compound were a godsend to the public spokespersons and media Tiaisons of the Pakistan Army. By day’s end, estimates of 300 dead children were making the rounds. The Dacca Press Corps was
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taken to the bombing site to inspect the destroyed huts and houses and observe rescue operations. While some in the Dacca Press Corps were convinced, other journalists were sceptical of the casualty figures. Diplomats who visited the site found evidence of bombing but not of the alleged large-scale loss of life. The orphanage housed 400 inmates, 300 boys and 100 girls, some of whom might have fled in fright at night.”
As news of the bombing was broadcast, the Indian official response followed fast: the IAF had no propeller-based bombers and the PAF had attempted to pull off a propaganda coup by bombing the orphanage with light aircraft. Others speculated the Mukti Bahini undertook the bombing in its piston-engined Otter. But neither the Indian Press Corps nor the Pakistanis realized the Caribous, used in the raid on the previous night over Dacca, were responsible for the bombing of the orphanage. | The IAF’s denial of involvement in the bombing persuaded the US Consulate General in Dacca, Herbert Spivak, to send a signal titled ‘Villainy by Night’ to the US Secretary William Rogers and the US ambassador in Rawalpindi, Joseph Farland. Spivak attributed the bombing to the PAF, which intending to discredit the IAF had sent aircraft from Dacca to carry out the bombing. Spivak quoted sightings of a Piaggio P136-L light aircraft at Dacca, and being convinced the aircraft did not sound like an IAF-operated type, surmised it was a twin-engined prop aircraft. The aircraft had not been met with AA fire. Suspiciously, the Piaggio P136 was a twin-engined push-propeller amphibian aircraft that belonged to the East Pakistan government and was stored at Tezgaon.
Spivak wrote too, of the discovery of a makeshift bomb rack near the bombsite, then in possession of the UN at the UNEPRO compound, and described the construction of the bomb rack. The UN though, was reluctant to hold on to any incriminating evidence. Photographs of the bomb rack were taken and it was disposed of soon after to prevent retribution from the Pakistanis.
Spivak’s signal sent Ambassador Farland, who was not convinced the Pakistanis would mount such a raid, scurrying for explanations. He was assuaged by the defence representative Brigadier General Charles E. Yeager who suggested the bomb cratersten metres wide and ten metres deep-could only be caused by heavier munitions and that a light aircraft like the Piaggio would require major structural modifications to carry and drop such bombs.
In any case, it was highly implausible any pilot could have carried out a precision strike on the orphanage at night from the altitude required to safely drop a large bomb. And only a Canberra or similar aircraft could deliver similar weaponry from high altitude. Yeager recommended the craters be measured accurately and the reported dud bomb recovered and checked for identification. No such recovery or attempt at identification was made public. Spivak and Henry, the UN representative, remained convinced it was the PAF’s doing.
TEZGAON RAIDS As the Caribous returned to Gauhati, a MiG-21 from 28 Squadron, again flown by Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh, was on its way to carry out an early morning attack. Manbir Singh, armed with 500-kg bombs, was on his second night sortie; at 3.20 a.m. Manbir Singh dropped his bombs right in front of the ATC building. As with the Caribous, the anti-aircraft fire was too little, too late. Unscathed, Manbir Singh landed at Gauhati by 4.10 a.m.
Tezgaon received two further attacks: one around midday from three aircraft of 4 Squadron led by Flight Lieutenant Hemant Sardesai, with J. Sukrut Raj and S.S. Tyagi as the formation members, and in the afternoon at around 2 p.m., from four aircraft, led by Manbir Singh, from 28 Squadron. Both attacks bombed the runway successfully.
While Tezgaon suffered nightly raids by the MiG-21s, the Pakistan Army lost its first Mil Mi-8 helicopter in the early hours of 9 December. At approximately 3 a.m., a Mi-8 of the No. 4 Army Aviation Squadron took off from Dacca carrying ammunition for Comilla. In blackout conditions, it flew into a wire and was
destroyed, even as its crew and passengers apparently escaped with minor injuries.
MORNING AT DUM DUM Tuesday, 9 December, dawned to poor visibility in the skies; thus, while IAF squadrons were armed for the day’s missions, most missions were cancelled. 14 Squadron at Dum Dum had armed its aircraft with 1000-lb bombs; 22 and 15 Squadron’s Gnats were armed with T-10 rockets. However after an hour on readiness, visibility was still bad and the aircraft remained on the ground.
As the pilots strolled around on the ground in the grim weather, frustrated at the lack of flying, they were surprised to find a lone Hunter come in for landing, apparently returning from a sortie over East Pakistan. No other squadron operated the Hunter in that sector, and this aircraft did not take off from Dum Dum.
Curious onlookers had their questions answered when the ATC informed the crew room the pilot was Group Captain Narendra Bahadur Singh, the station commander of Kalaikunda, bringing information regarding targets for the day. Narendra Singh had just returned from a lone armed recce to Ishurdi airfield, near the town of Ishurdi across the Ganga from Kushtia, and confirmed it was abandoned with no targets to strike.
Still, preparations had already been made and four aircraft armed and pilots briefed. Squadron Leader Sachdeva took off at 9 a.m. for Ishurdi, along with Sidhu, Mone and Sundaresan. Each Hunter was armed with 2,000-Ib bombs. The Hunters bombed the runway and returned before the hour was over.
Group Captain Narendra Singh also took to the air in his Hunter as part of a four-aircraft mission of 14 Squadron on an armed recce and was impressed at the R/T silence maintained by the formation as they went about their work. His enthusiasm was cut short on returning to base. An urgent signal had been sent to Dum Dum prohibiting station commanders from flying operational sorties. While Mally Wollen’s sorties against Kamalpur and Comilla had slipped under Command HQ’s radar, they did get wind of N.B. Singh’s flying. The risk of losing a
senior officer was not worthwhile for HQ. EAC’s directives also put paid to Wollen’s escapades up north. Wollen had avoided informing EAC about the sorties he had undertaken over the previous three days, but with an explicit order in hand, Wollen’s wings were clipped.
ANTI-SHIPPING MISSIONS As the Pakistan Army retreated, road and rail communication had been attacked and disrupted by air attacks. The IAF’s focus now shifted to East Pakistan’s waterways: it was tasked with attacking shipping, and river-craft such as coastal vessels, motorized barges or boats, gun boats, and ferries were to be destroyed. Small country boats, usually carrying fishermen, were to be checked and sunk il seen to be carrying troops or supplies. The IAF’s objective was to prevent II Corps and IV Corps from falling back to Dacca.
14 Squadron and 22 Squadron at Dum Dum had prepared to launch their first anti-shipping mission at 11 a.m.; the pilots of both squadrons were keen to fly on the first mission. The Hunter formation was to be led by Flight Lieutenant B.A.K. Shetty and the Gnat formation by Flying Officer Sunith Soares. Not able to resolve the dispute, the squadrons decided whichever formation reached the target first would get the first shot.
After briefing, the pilots rushed out of the briefing room and ran for their aircraft. The Gnat pilots may have been confident about their faster scramble time but they did not reckon on the Hunter pilots using the services of a jeep to speed up the scramble to the aircraft. Even as the Gnat pilots were huffing towards their aircraft, 14 Squadron’s pilots were dropped near theirs by jeep. They immediately strapped themselves in and started up.
Shetty and his wingmen took to the air first, while Soares and his wingman followed on their heels. Arriving over Khulna the Hunters took the first shots at the target. Soares’ formation set up orbit and observed the attack. Shetty made the first attack on the ship and to Soares’ glee, the T-10 rockets missed. A frustrated Shetty announced his wingman would get the target and that the Gnat pilots need not worry about the ship, but
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Shetty’s wingman, Flying Officer R.S. Sukumar’s rockets missed as well. It was the turn of the Gnat pilots to snicker.
Soares called up on the R/T, ‘BAKS, please f*** off, it’s our target now’. But Shetty did not want to call it a day yet. He called out on the R/T, ‘I still got my guns…the Gnats should stop piddling around with their guns and let us do the job’. Shetty went in guns blazing and missed again. Soares called out ‘Thank you. You guys can go back now’. The pressure was now on the Gnat pilots. ‘If I miss, I will be the laughing stock of the Squadron,’ thought Soares as he went in to the attack. The T-10 rockets found their target and the Gnats followed it up with gun attacks, destroying the ship in the process. 14 Squadron took some time to live down the incident.
At midday, 14 Squadron sent a four-aircraft mission to Narayanganj led by Squadron Leader Sachdeva; it returned after knocking out a pile of gunboats’. A two-aircraft sortie by Mone and Ganguly to Khulna attacked one gunboat and damaged another. The last sortie of the day by the Bulls was led by Flight Lieutenant S.K. Chopra to the Chalna ferry. The formation used its front guns to blast the ferry out of the water.
Soares undertook another sortie in the afternoon in Khulna; this time he spotted a gunboat eighty feet long making its way up the river. Swinging the aircraft around, he put the target in his gun sight and strafed it fore to aft and was treated to the gratifying sight of the gunboat splitting in the middle lengthwise.
In the northern sector, 221 Squadron sent out a four-aircraft mission to Sirajganj ferry that connected the XXXIII Corps sector to the Dacca Bowl.
The pressure on the waterways at Narayanganj was kept up through the afternoon. Two Canberra B(1) 58s of 16 Squadron, configured in the interdictor role, with a ventral 20 mm gun pack installed in the bomb bay and rocket pods under the wings, were fuelled and launched. Squadron Leader S.D. Karnik led the formation. The Canberras took off from Gorakhpur and flew to Dacca at medium level. Descending near Narayanganj, Karnik flew down the Meghna River towards the Bay of Bengal. The

Meghna, which joins the Padma south of Dacca, has thousands of small rivers and tributaries. As the Canberras approached the Meghna-Titulia tributary, he spotted two motorized gunboats carrying cargo and supplies as part of a larger convoy.
Karnik put his jet into a climb and rolled into a dive with the sun behind him. He pulled out at 400 feet and made a firing pass on the river craft. The guns on the boat responded in defence Karnik felt his aircraft hit, but pressed on. The devastating fusillade of rockets and cannon shells blew the gunboat out of the water. Several crew and passengers jumped from the craft into the water; the unfortunate ones were caught in the gunfire. As the Canberra skimmed over the destroyed boats, Karnik could see the occupants of the boats aiming and firing light machine guns and rifles. After pulling out, Karnik checked the instruments for damage to the engines. The controls felt rigid so Karnik flew to Dum Dum for a precautionary landing. After landing Karnik checked his aircraft for damage. While the aircraft needed patching up, there were no Canberra ground crew or personnel qualified to repair the damage present. Getting aircrew from Gorakhpur to fix the aircraft would have taken days; the Canberra would be stranded at Dum Dum. Karnik refuelled his Canberra and flew to Gorakhpur without further incident. His aircraft was patched up and repaired soon after.
The strategy of focusing on riverine traffic fetched unexpected dividends in Narayanganj as IAF fighters found two landing crafts and a gunboat slowly making their way towards Narayanganj ferry and made short work of them. Unknown to the pilots, the gunboat was carrying the Pakistani Divisional Commander of the Chandpur Sector, Major General Rahim Khan, GOC 39 (AdHoc) Division, who was wounded in the attack.
Khan had been pressing for evacuation of his headquarters from Chandpur town to prevent getting caught by the advancing Indian troops of 23 Division, led by Major General Hira. He was cleared to leave Chandpur on the night of 8 December, and naval transport was dispatched to carry back the divisional HQ.
Pakistani naval boats were supposed to reach Chandpur by 8 p.m. on 8 December, but were delayed and reached Chandpur by 2 a.m. the day after. Part of the journey would be carried out in daylight if the boats were to reach Narayanganj. Khan ignored the advice of Pakistani naval officers and insisted on making the trip, a decision which resulted in his convoy getting caught in the air attack as it neared Narayanganj. The landing crafts and the gunboat were sunk; seventeen Pakistani naval personnel and four Pakistan army personnel, including a Colonel, were killed. Khan had a narrow escape when he was grazed by shrapnel; he sprained his ankle during the scramble to save himself and was in shock by the time he reached shore. The Pakistan Army shifted him to a military hospital in Dacca for treatment. The air attack on the boat, and the IAF flights over Dacca exacted its mental toll on
Khan: after twenty-four hours in hospital, still shaken, he moved out to stay with Major General Rao Farman Ali in Dacca.
The IAF’s anti-shipping effort was supported by aircraft from the INS Vikrant, whose Alizes started off with early morning attacks on Barisal town and its steamer service station. They found the town lit up and destroyed boats and jetties on the riverbank. Additional reconnaissance missions were then flown in the surrounding areas. Later, nine Sea Hawk and one Alize sorties were flown. Three barges at Patuakhali were sunk by the Sea Hawks, while Alizes attacked and damaged two tankers off Hatia Island. Later, a factory at Chittagong and a wireless station were attacked by four Sea Hawks. One aircraft was struck by antiaircraft fire but made it back safely to the carrier.
By day’s end a total of seventy-six anti-shipping missionsnearly half the total ground attack missions-were flown as assigned by EAC HQ. A hundred vessels were claimed destroyed; the bulk in the Khulna (II Corps), Naryanganj (Dacca) and Sirajganj areas. Few gunboats or steamers were seen on East Pakistani rivers after 9 December.
SPECIAL TARGETS The focus on special targets continued as 28 Squadron recommenced its attacks on Joydebpur factory. The first sortie was led by Squadron Leader S.K. Behal at 7.45 a.m. One pair of bombs scored a direct hit on a factory building, while another pair narrowly missed. Behal’s bombs failed to explode even as one side of the factory was destroyed. Behal returned at 11 a.m. for another strike. This time the targets were suspected ammunition dumps north of the factory. The results were mixed: a suspected bunker was blown to bits while Behal’s wingman, Bhalla, saw his bombs fail to explode.
The attacks on Joydebpur ordnance factory began to show diminishing results with each sortie as it became difficult to identify targets of military significance. So for the last sortie of the day Wollen switched to attacking Dacca’s radio station. Radio Pakistan operated a transmitter out of a large building
in the Shah Bagh area of Dacca, close to the Hotel Dacca Intercontinental, an ICRC-designated neutral zone and home to foreign journalists. The attack was once again led by Squadron Leader Behal and the radio station was bombed successfully at 4.15 p.m.
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT In the Jessore sector, 221 Squadron was also involved in the close air support missions. With the fall of Jessore, the 9th Infantry Division was fast on the heels of the retreating Pakistanis along the Jessore-Khulna axis. Fourteen sorties were flown by “Sridharan’s boys’ against Pakistan army vehicle movements, troop concentrations, and fuel dumps. Two Sukhois took part in a ground attack mission in support of the troops of 8 Madras on the Khulna Road. The Madras Battalion had run into a Pakistani rear guard action that impeded their advance. The attack was witnessed by the Sunday Times reporter in attendance:
When shelling failed to dislodge the Pakistani rear-guard, the local commander, Lieutenant Col Naregyan (sic)–an amiable, imperturbable Madrasi-decided to call for air support. Radios crackled impressively and map references were busily exchanged, and checked.
Everyone looked expectantly upwards. Nothing happened for a while. Then, quite suddenly, two of the Indian Air Force’s Russian Su-7 fighters appeared high in the enormous blue sky. For a few minutes they circled gracefully, like hawks searching for prey.
Then, after a tank fired a blue smoke-maker shell, they banked into a steep dive and straightened out at treetop level. From where we stood, I could see the flashes from the big.30 calibre machine gun as the jets strafed the Pakistani positions.
When the planes turned away from their base near Calcutta, the Pakistani guns had been silenced. The tanks roared into life again and crashed through the bright yellow mustard fields, followed by the Madrasi infantry.”
The Indian Army Brigade coming down from Meghalaya in the 101 CZ sector had been held up at Jamalpur town where a Battalion of Pakistani troops (31 Baluch) blocked the advance. Though the Indian troops under Brigadier Kler managed to set up a roadblock behind the Pakistanis and thus completed their encirclement, they did not have the numbers to launch an attack and clear the town. The Brigade was also light on heavy equipment and did not have artillery support. Air support was called for and MiGs from 4 Squadron flew four missions rocketing Pakistani positions in Jamalpur.
As on previous days, the bulk of the close support sorties were flown in the IV Corps sector, supporting the Indian Army advances towards Ashuganj and Chandpur. Several missions were launched by the MiG squadrons at Gauhati to support the Comilla fighting with specific attention to the Lalmai Hills. 28 Squadron launched various missions fulfilling ‘immediate demand’ requests from the Corps HQ. A total of three missions and twelve sorties were flown to Comilla and Lalmai Hills; all attacks were carried out with 57 mm rockets. Due to the heavy foliage and ground cover, the sorties had to rely on contact with the air control teams on the ground. Quite often, the target attack would be a ‘clump of trees’ as pointed out by the FAC.
AIRBORNE FAC SUPPORT TO ‘UBAN FORCE One of the ground attack strikes from Kumbhirgram involved the first ever usage of an airborne forward air controller in the eastern sector. This happened in support of the independent army formation ‘Uban Force’ under Major General S.S. Uban in the Chittagong Hill Tracts area.20 Headquartered at Lumleh in Mizoram, Uban’s force consisted of the ‘special frontier force commandos aided by the guerrillas of Mukti Bahini. They were advancing in the Chittagong sector along three axes strung out from north to south. Uban had two Mi-4s at his disposal piloted by IAF aircrew but seconded to the Aviation Research Centre, the aviation wing of the Research & Analysis Wing (RAW). Uban had been aggressively using these helicopters operating out
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of Lumleh in Mizoram, one of which had been converted into a makeshift gunship with medium-calibre machine guns affixed to the sides and rear.
An early objective in Uban’s path of advance was Barkal on the Barkal-Subalong axis to the north. The advancing column managed to clear several Pakistani posts but were soon surrounded and harassed by the Pakistan Army. Uban himself had to fly in to the Indian positions to extricate their commander as well as to goad the forward troops. Uban then requested an air strike on Pakistani positions and 5 TAC released two Hunters from the 17 Squadron detachment in Kumbhirgram for the attack.
As there was no FAC on the ground with Uban’s force, a Mi-4 pilot from Agartala, Squadron Leader Marathe, was briefed for the task. The two Hunter pilots, Squadron Leader A.W. Lele, detachment commander, and Flight Lieutenant V.K. Neb, were briefed in person by Marathe who arrived by an Alouette at Kumbhirgram.
Armed with T-10 rockets, Lele and Neb took off for Barkal; on reaching, they observed two hills with a river flowing in between them from the north to the southwest. Pakistani bunkers and guns were on the northern hill on the top and on the eastern side close to the river. In the very first rocket attack, the guns were neutralized. Lele and Neb followed with strafing runs on the eastern side of the hill, ably guided by Squadron Leader Marathe flying the Mi-4.22 Major General Uban, observing the attack with his forward troops testified to 17 Squadron’s effectiveness:
The rocket attack was watched by me and Lieutenant Colonel A.S. Assar at close quarters. It was deadly accurate. I sent congratulations to these excellent airmen and asked Lieutenant Colonel Assar to enter and clear Barkal. The enemy had cleared Barkal leaving behind arms and ammunition which we duly captured. The capture of Barkal was a great morale booster for all of us.

FORWARD TO AGARTALA Meanwhile, 5 TAC was confronted by the low endurance of the Gnats providing air support from Kumbhirgram; as IV Corps advanced deeper into East Pakistan the Gnats found it difficult to loiter over ground targets. Operating from Agartala would help ameliorate this problem.
The Agartala runway’s length of 1,600m (5,000 feet) was sufficient for emergency recovery of IAF aircraft. Most fighters could land at Agartala comfortably if they used the tail brake parachute. However IAF aircraft had not been deploying the tail chutes to enable faster turn-around between missions; moreover, the tail chutes of Gnats were not reliable. It would take a skilled pilot to land at Agartala without the use of a tail parachute as there was no allowance for overshooting the threshold. Trials carried out by Gnat squadrons revealed a pilot needed 1,400m length of runway to land without deploying the tail chute or overheating the brakes. These trials called for touch down within the first 200 metres of the runway. Take-off would not be a problem as the Gnat could take off with full ammunition and fuel in about 1,000m.
IV Corps Engineering Regiment was tasked with extending the Agartala runway by 400 yards using PSP planking. The extra length was a safety measure to provide overshoot and undershoot margins to the aircraft. The task was assigned to its troops on 7 December. Material and manpower from a Border Roads Company arrived on 8 December and construction commenced thereafter. This work was still in progress when the first Gnats from 24 Squadron arrived at the airfield from Kumbhirgram.
THE BATTLE FOR ASHUGANJ AND THE BRAHMANBARIA HEL-LIFT After the fall of Akhaura, IV Corp’s 57 Division had been hot on the heels of the withdrawing Pakistan Army, which had planned to make a stand at Brahmanbaria but, not finding enough time to consolidate their defences, had fallen back to Ashuganj village on the eastern bank of the river Meghna. The Pakistani fortress
of Bhairab Bazaar lay on the western bank; the railway bridge connecting them spanned the Meghna River over nearly 4,000 feet and was the only one on the river in IV Corps’ sector. It provided the fastest way for the Indian troops to get to Dacca. When Pakistani defences collapsed around Akhaura and Brahmanbaria, both Sagat Singh and Gonsalves saw an opportunity to take the Ashuganj Bridge.
The morning of 9 December found the Pakistani brigade consolidated on the eastern bank in Ashuganj, with more troops and the Divisional HQ stationing itself in Bhairab Bazaar. The leading Indian troops, consisting of 18 Rajput, had been advancing on a man-pack basis with no vehicles for days. They had outstripped their artillery support and reached Ashuganj in the morning, unaware of Pakistani strength in the town. At approximately 8 a.m., the Pakistan Army launched a desperate counter-attack. A pitched battle ensued with the Pakistanis putting extreme pressure on the Battalion. Just as the leading platoons reached the eastern end of the Meghna bridge, the Pakistanis rallied at the last minute and beat back the attack. The Pakistan Army held a vantage point in the form of a 300-foot high grain silo on the eastern bank, where an artillery observation post bought down heavy supporting fire on the Indian troops.
Though the Indian troops were beyond the range of their supporting guns, help arrived in the form of Hunters from Kumbhirgram. As the FAC on the ground, Flying Officer Dalbir Singh, prepared to give the Hunters instructions, a shell fired from a Pakistani recoilless gun hit the air control team killing the radio man and wounding Dalbir Singh, who however recovered quickly, applying first aid to his chest, only to find his radio destroyed.
The Hunters vainly circled overhead trying to raise the FAC, failing which they turned away. The Pakistanis could scarcely believe their luck. At the same time, the Pakistani General on the western bank of the Meghna gave the order to blow up one of the easternmost spans of the bridge, with many of his troops still on the eastern bank. The news of the destruction of the span was greeted with dismay at IV Corps HQ. Even though Lieutenant General Sagat Singh had almost achieved his corps’ objective of advancing to the Meghna, he was not content with sitting on the eastern bank and wanted his troops on the western bank to get on the road to Dacca. The Pakistan Army could now retreat to Bhairab Bazaar and dig in their heels. Sagat Singh consulted Group Captain Chandan Singh about mounting another heli-borne operation, the troops would be airlifted from Brahmanbaria and flown across the Meghna, bypassing both Ashuganj and Bhairab Bazaar. They would be dropped on the western bank southwest of Ashugani where there was no Pakistani presence and which would be out of range of Pakistani guns. To facilitate this movement, IAF helicopters at Kailashahar were diverted to Brahmanbaria.
Group Captain Chandan Singh flew from Kalaura to Agartala to organize the heli-lift. From Agartala, Chandan Singh flew to Brahmanbaria to meet Major General Gonsalves, GOC 57 Division, and later, flew with Lieutenant General Sagat Singh on an Alouette of 115 HU for an aerial recce mission near Bhairab Bazaar. At 12.15 p.m., the pair flew over the western bank of Meghna and landed twenty kilometres from Bhairab Bazaar Confirming with the local villagers that there were no Pakistani troops in the area, Sagat and Chandan decided to use the area as the landing zone. From there, they flew over the forward positions of Bhairab Bazaar. Near the town, as the helicopter flew close to the forward positions over the western bank of Meghna, the Pakistan Army straddled the helicopter with small arms fire Its pilot, Flight Lieutenant G.P.S. Sidhu, was grievously injured by a bullet in his hip, but the controls were taken over by his co pilot Flying Officer H.J.S. Sahi. Sagat Singh himself had a close shave, as a bullet grazed his forehead and went through the visor of his peak cap leaving a vertical mark of congealed blood.
The co-pilot Sahi, aided by the injured Sidhu, flew back to the Corps HQ at Kailashahar. Sidhu had to be evacuated for treatment on landing. This was not the first Alouette to be hit by Pakistani ground fire that day. Earlier in the morning, an army
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AOP Alouette flown by Captain G.S. Sihota, with Major General B.F. Gonsalves, GOC 57 Division, and Brigadier K.P. Mishra, brigade commander 311 Brigade, had flown over Pakistani positions at Ashuganj. The Pakistanis on the frontline waited till the helicopter flew over them and then let loose a barrage of small arms fire. As they saw the helicopter disappear behind a clump of trees the Pakistani troops burst into a cheer. But Sihota had skilfully flown the helicopter out of sight and back to base. The helicopter was hit by nine rounds, but was still flyable.25 The only injury on board was a bullet graze on Brigadier Mishra’s back.
After landing, Chandan Singh worked out the details of the helicopter operations. But he first had to get clearance from Air Marshal Dewan who was initially sceptical but agreed when Chandan indicated the army had already landed and explored the landing area (failing to mention that Sagat Singh and he had carried out the initial recce).
The special heli-borne operation (SHBO) commenced at 3.30

p.m. An army AOP Alouette III, piloted by Captain G.S. Sihota, along with Captain Randhawa as the co-pilot, was the first to carry an advance party to the landing site at Raipura across the river.’ Once the advance party had marked out the helicopter landing area, the SHBO could begin. The Mi-4s were to drop troops at Sylhet on the morning of 9 December. Once informed of the upcoming operation at the Meghna, the helicopter squadrons moved down to Agartala and then on to Brahmanbaria to take on board the troops.
The heli-lift commenced from Brahmanbaria stadium, where troops from 4 Guards boarded the Mi-4s to be dropped at Raipura. As it was getting dark, the landing areas were marked with torches with the reflectors removed. The lift involved fifty-seven sorties by Mi-4s over that day and the next (10 December). By day’s end on 10 December, 647 troops and 8,200 kg of equipment were airlifted across the Meghna and placed at Raipura.
To prevent Pakistani troops in Bhairab Bazaar from moving south and interfering with the lift air support was called in. 17 Squadron from Kumbhirgram flew ten sorties providing suppressive fire on ‘immediate demand’ from IV Corps. However the Pakistanis had no intention of engaging Indian troops at Raipura and were content to dig in at Bhairab Bazaar; the Pakistani divisional commander was convinced Raipura remained outside his area of responsibility. Moreover the Pakistan Army remained convinced the heli-borne operation was an effort to outflank it and attack Bhairab Bazaar from the south, without realizing that Sagat Singh planned to go the other way to Dacca.
The airlift was supplemented by troops ferried across the Meghna by boat. A squadron of PT-76 amphibious tanks was also towed across the river to supplement the substantial force.
THE PAF DEPARTS DACCA On the night of 8 (or 9) December the Bengali members of the Ministry of Defence Corps (MODC) attempted to revolt and kill the PAF squadron aircrew. The rebel attempt was foiled by the efforts of the CO, Wing Commander Chaudhary, serving
on guard duty that night. Most of the rebel guards were killed
in the fire fight and the rebellion put down. This ostensible mutiny convinced the PAF its pilots were in danger and should be evacuated to the west as soon as possible.
Years after the war, the PAF AOC, Air Commodore Inam-ulHag, claimed he took the decision to evacuate the pilots because he was convinced Tezgaon’s runway would not be repaired for the duration of the war and that the IAF would continue bombing it. Accordingly he gave orders for the PIA Twin Otter to be used to fly the remaining pilots to Burma:
At the end of the third day of bombing, I inspected the big craters. Fully aware that Dacca runway would not be available for fighter operations any more during the war, I decided to fly the fighter pilots to Burma in PIA’s surviving Twin Otter. I saw eight or nine remaining pilots at dawn and could sense their sympathetic feelings on leaving me behind. The Twin Otter took off from a taxi track.
The nine pilots who were evacuated included the CO, Wing Commander Chaudhary, Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain, the flight commander, elected to stay back along with two junior officers, Flying Officers Schames-ul-Haq and Syed Atta-urRahman.
The PAF almost lost one of its helicopters in XXXIII Corps’ sector. The helicopter was one of the two sent to rescue the Pakistani GOC who had become isolated due to the Indian offensive. The rescue was flown in the night; it very nearly went wrong. When one of the helicopters landed to pick up the General, the first people to approach the helicopter were Mukti Bahini. The Pakistani pilot took off in a hurry and later found another spot from where the General was picked up.
The IAF’s control of the skies had had a devastating impact on the Pakistan Army’s morale. This is revealed in one of the signals sent by Lieutenant General Niazi to the Pakistan Army Chief on the day:
Regrouping and readjustment is NOT possible due to enemy mastery of skies…population getting extremely hostile… airfields damaged extensively…all jetties, ferries and river craft destroyed due to enemy air action…extensive damage to heavy weapons and equipment due to enemy air action…NOT slept for last 20 days…under constant fire…air artillery and tanks… request following…immediate strike all enemy bases this theatre…airborne troops for protection.”
Nine hours later Governor Malik sent an equally panicked signal to Yahya Khan emphasizing West Pakistan’s forces would be overrun and requesting Dacca be declared an open city where no military forces would be stationed, and no fighting should take place (as suggested by the UN representative Paul Marc-Henri), Malik wanted a ceasefire solution to be arrived atsoon. Yahya Khan’s reply came soon after, informing Malik he should take a decision on East Pakistan’ utilizing his good sense and judgement’, that Khan would approve any such decision and would instruct Niazi to do so as well. Khan’s signal further stated: ‘Whatever efforts you make in your decision to save senseless destruction of the kind of civilians you have mentioned, in particular the safety of armed forces, you may go ahead and ensure safety of armed forces by all political means that you will adopt with our opponent’.”
Malik took this as a go-ahead for ceasefire negotiations and in a meeting with the UN representative Paul Marc-Henri, handed over a letter asking for a settlement by which East Pakistan’s independence would be followed by West Pakistani forces leaving East Pakistan. The proposal did not include the surrender of Pakistani armed forces but rather the claim Pakistani forces would fight to the end if such an agreement was not accepted. A copy of the note along with a message was sent to Yahya Khan the next day.”
Marc-Henri transmitted the message to the UN secretary general. This was the closest the West Pakistanis had come to agreeing to a handover of power to the Bangladeshis, and thus a proposal seemingly worth pursuing. The UN secretary general
was sceptical whether India would accept it, but decided to pursue it and table it at the Security Council.
All hopes of a settlement were dashed when an afternoon signal from Yahya Khan chastised Malik for proposing withdrawal from East Pakistan and handover of power. Instead, Yahya ‘suggested’ Malik work towards an immediate ceasefire and a cessation of hostilities not requiring surrender of armed forces. There was no mention of a political settlement or transfer of power to the Bengalis. The message was devastating to the Pakistani cause at the UN Security Council, which was about to discuss the earlier ceasefire proposal when the new update was received and put an end to all ceasefire efforts. The war would go on for another six days.
10 DECEMBER THE CARIBOUS RETURN After two days of bombing Tezgaon in waves of four aircraft, 33 Squadron upped the ante for the night of 9/10 December by sending six Caribous loaded with ten bombs each. The news of civilian casualties had not yet broken; the first reports were not published till the morning of 10 December. The Caribou pilots were unaware anything untoward had occurred during the previous night’s bombing raid.
The six Caribous once again launched from Jorhat at 2 a.m, and in two hours’ time reached the target area. Flying Officer Rudra Kumar Bishnoi, who had been on these missions on the previous nights as well, was flying last in the formation. Bishnoi, along with the other Caribou pilots, was tuned to the radio channel they expected Shillong SU to give last minute instructions on. Short of the target, the Caribou crews could see the AA tracers lighting up the sky with an intensity missing on the previous nights.
As the Caribous lined up at 7,000 feet, the R/T crackled with instructions to descend below 5,000 feet AGL. These were heard by the pilots over the R/T channel and struck them as bizarre: AA fire was dangerously close and descending would put them within lethal range. The first four Caribous ignored the instructions,
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but No. 5, being flown by Flight Lieutenant Rajeshwar Prasad, acknowledged and started descending.
Bishnoi, flying No. 6 in the mission, rightly guessed something was wrong, and shouted over the R/T, ‘Don’t descend! Climb, climb! Prasad complied and pulled up, putting the aircraft in a turn as he did so.
The call to descend had been transmitted by the local PAF air traffic controller. The PAF had managed to find the Caribou’s frequency and issued false instructions to descend within the range of their AA batteries, which were effective to 6,000 feet.
Prasad dropped his bombs, put the aircraft in a hard climbing turn, and flew out of the area. Bishnoi followed him minutes later. The AA fire was close, with the proximity fuses exploding nearby and shaking the aircraft with each blast. But nothing short of a direct hit would bring down the Caribou. The formation completed its mission and reached Gauhati by dawn.
These were the last missions flown by the Caribous on Dacca. A UN-brokered twenty-four hours’ ceasefire would be in place from 6p.m. onwards on 10 December to enable the evacuation of foreign nationals. News of the civilian casualties from the previous day’s raid took care of Eastern Command’s plans to further use the Caribous.
For the first time in five days, Tezgaon was spared further visits by IAF MiG-21s. The damage to its runways was now so great that IAF planners saw no purpose in launching any more strikes. However a two-aircraft mission was sent to Kurmitola by 4 Squadron; Flight Lieutenant Hemu Sardesai and his wingman bombed the taxi track to the northeast and put it out of commission. 28 Squadron took a break from counter air sorties and devoted its attention to close support.
THE KUSHTIA SETBACK The previous day, on 9 December, the Indian Army had suffered a setback in the Il Corps sector where a brigade from 4 Mountain Division had been engaged in clearing the flanks on the line of advance. When the war began, 4 Mountain Division was facing 57
Brigade of the 9 Pak Division in the Jhenida sector. In the initial days of the war, the brigade evacuated Jhenida under pressure and retreated northwards to Kushtia. However 4 Division had no contact with the Pakistanis and mistakenly believed the brigade had withdrawn eastwards towards Dacca. It thus set itself up for a surprise on the afternoon of 9 December, when leading elements consisting of troops of 22 Rajput and tanks of 45 Cavalry advanced towards Kushtia. En route, two Pakistani companies supported by tanks ambushed the leading column of the 22 Rajput and inflicted heavy casualties. This resulted in the loss of five PT-76 tanks and the disintegration of the leading company. The Indian commanders realized too late the entire Pakistani brigade was at Kushtia. Over the evening and the night, 4 Mountain Division diverted its brigades towards Kushtia to lay a perimeter and surround the Pakistani troops. Simultaneously urgent demand for close air support was sent by the TAC commanders. While it was too late for the IAF to respond in the evening of 9 December it did so on 10 December.
The squadrons most active in the area-14, 22 and 221-were tasked with reducing Pakistani defences at Kushtia. 14 Squadron (Hunters) prepared napalm containers for their strikes, while the Sukhois at Panagarh were loaded with 500-kg bombs for theirs. The Gnats of 22 Squadron would lend a hand with their T-10 rockets. Roughly a hundred miles northeast of Dum Dum, Kushtia was fifteen minutes flying time for the Hunters and the Gnats.
The first mission of the day was launched at 7 a.m. Four Hunters led by Sundaresan were guided by a FAC on the ground who issued instructions for delivering their napalm payloads. While some of the napalm worked, many containers failed to ignite.
Sundaresan returned to Dum Dum to have his aircraft turned around for another napalm strike in quick time. He returned to Kushtia two hours later with Flight Lieutenant Santosh Mone as his No. 2. They could not identify targets on the ground and had to rely on the FAC’s instructions. While Sundaresan went in and dropped his napalm load, Mone was not called in and flew back with his load intact. The 14 Squadron sent three more missions to Kushtia in the afternoon for a total of nine sorties. The second mission of the afternoon was led by Sundaresan in the Hunter trainer with Flying Officer S.K. Sofat in the backseat. Sofat acted as spotter with a pair of binoculars. They attacked what appeared to be a power station and destroyed it. The last mission was led by Santosh Mone.
The Gnats of 22 Squadron, limited in ordnance but still packing a punch with their guns, assisted the MiGs. One of the formations attacking Kushtia was led by Flight Lieutenant P.K.
Tayal, who took his wingman to attack a target suspected to be the Brigade Headquarters:
We were in a four-aircraft formation to Kushtia. I was leading the attack and the privilege was given to me by my wonderful flight commander for whom I have tremendous respect, Squadron Leader K.N.B. “Boondi’ Shankar. He opted to be my No. 3.
At Kushtia, we commenced rocket attacks and during the rocket attack, we had done one pass and came around. When we did the second pass, I was in a dive and pulling out. Then ground fire! People seemed to be sitting around in trenches and firing blindly and my aircraft was hit.
One of the bullets had punctured my main tank which is the No. 2 tank in the Gnat. So I immediately climbed. I was contemplating ejection but I decided to at least go to the Indian side and eject. I was climbing and my fuel was running out. It was literally gushing out! I have never seen a fuel gauge move so fast. The attack was handed over to Boondi Shankar and he carried it out successfully.
I climbed up to 30,000 feet and crossed the border over to the Indian side. There were clouds all over. I remember it was a heavy day with plenty of high altitude clouds. I was not very sure were Calcutta was. I had very limited navigation aids. However Barrackpore was very helpful. They realized that I was coming in high and told me that I can land at Barrackpore airfield if needed. Barrackpore is slightly nearer than Calcutta.
My problem was that the aircraft had rockets on one side and nothing on the other. I could not fire them in the air, either over Pakistani side or over ours. I could not jettison them either. Now I was in a dilemma, I had to land at a higher landing speed and I was worried that the engine could flame out at any time. And it actually did flame out, I don’t remember exactly when, but by that time I had spotted the Calcutta runway.
Each aircraft has a safe gliding speed; you know you can glide the aircraft, but the rate of descent on fighter and heavier aircraft was very high. So I generally have an idea at what height I should be when I can manage to land. I did not want to eject over Calcutta as it would be very catastrophic. So I had to be very sure if I had enough altitude to come in to land.
So I had extra speed, I knew I had required height, from which I could glide and land. I know my engine had flamed out but I don’t recollect exactly where it flamed out, maybe 10 miles, maybe 15 miles. But I had climbed up so high I had no problem with airspeed if I could just make the runway. However if I undershot, I would have crashed. I touched down safely at a higher speed and managed to stop the aircraft.”
Tayal’s Gnat presented a peculiar sight with one drop tank still fixed on one side and the other one missing. After the aircraft was towed to the pen, ground crew shook the remaining empty drop tank and it fell off the hard point. Tayal’s successful handling of his craft earned him a Vayu Sena Medal (Gallantry).
Besides damaging Tayal’s Gnat, Pakistani ground fire damaged a Chetak helicopter of No. 10 AOP Flight on a recce sortie in the Khulna area (Jessore sector); it was straddled by medium machine gun fire from Pakistani positions at Phultala. The helicopter was carrying the 32 Brigade Commander Brigadier K.K. Tiwari and was piloted by Captain S.J.S. Saigal who took immediate evasive action and saved the helicopter from further damage. However one of his passengers, Lieutenant Colonel M.D. Anand, the commander of 67 Field Regiment, was hit by the bullets and died in the helicopter.
ANTI-SHIPPING STRIKES Meanwhile anti-shipping strikes continued as 28 Squadron launched a four-aircraft formation piloted by the CO
Wing Commander Bishnoi, Squadron Leader Behal, Flight Lieutenants V. Mehta and David Subaiya, on an offensive air support mission to Maulvi Bazaar. The formation surprised three steamers being escorted by a gunboat on the Meghna and destroyed all of them with rockets. The formation returned to base safely with no damage.
One anti-shipping sortie was carried out by 14 Squadron. Squadron Leader R.C. Sachdeva, who had carried out the first strike on Kushtia in the morning, was sent to Narayanganj near Dacca, accompanied by Flight Lieutenant Dickinson, B.A.K. Shetty and Ganguly; their Hunters were equipped with T-10 rocket projectiles and front guns.
At the target area, Sachdeva, along with his No. 2 Dickinson, went into a dive to attack a gunboat. At that moment, inexplicably, Sachdeva’s engine flamed out. He called out on the R/T that he had had a flame out and immediately pulled out and turned to the cast towards Indian army positions. Dickinson lost sight of Sachdeva as he pulled out; Shetty and Ganguly were not in visual contact with Sachdeva either.
Sachdeva tried unsuccessfully to relight the engine and alerted the formation that his attempts had failed. Shetty called out on the R/T for Sachdeva to eject, but did not hear from him again. The remaining three pilots orbited the area together, but did not spot a crash site nor any smoke.
The three pilots set course back to Dum Dum and landed at 1.50 p.m., just as more missions were taking off to attack Kushtia. They had no idea whether Sachdeva had ejected in time or not and there was little they could do to answer the questions they faced from their squadron mates about Sachdeva’s fate. The squadron pilots thus remained hopeful Sachdeva had ejected and hoped to receive a call to that effect. The CO, Sundaresan, was ready to send a Hunter trainer to Agartala to pick him up if needed.
The news came to the squadron at night. Sachdeva had ejected twelve miles from Narayanganj, but died in the attempt. He had either been too low or his parachute did not deploy. The crash was witnessed by a Mukti Bahini party, who soon arrived at the
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crash site, a riverbank. They pulled out Sachdeva’s body from the water and transported it to Chandpur, where the advancing columns of the Indian Army were consolidating themselves after the Pakistani evacuation. One of the officers with the Indian army formation was Flying Officer K.D. Singh, seconded from 14 Squadron as FAC. He recognized Sachdeva’s body and confirmed his identity.
The news of Sachdeva’s death cast a pall over 14 Squadron. Sachdeva was a popular pilot; his was the first fatality suffered by the squadron. The two pilots lost in action till then had survived, one as a POW (Tremenbere), the other ‘somewhere in Bangladesh with the Mukti Bahini (K.D. Mehra).
TASK FORCE ALFA: BLUE ON BLUE Unfortunately the IAF’s targets that day included friendly ships. Two days earlier, Eastern Naval Command, in conjunction with Eastern Army Command, set up a commando task force called Force Alfa. It operated directly under the army’s Eastern Command. Two boats donated by the West Bengal Government, MV Padma and MV Palash, were rigged with twin Bofors L-60 40mm guns and converted into gunboats. The boats were manned by Bengali crewmen, either ex-Pakistan Navy or the Mukti Bahini, commanded by Indian Navy officers, and placed in the task force along with INS Panvel and the BSF craft Chitrangada under Commander Samant of the Indian Navy.
Samant was ordered to attack Pakistani shipping at the anchorage of the Chalna-Mangla port. Since the port of Khulna was then under attack from the army, the task force was not to proceed there.
The task force sailed from Hasnabad on the Indian side on 8 December, entering Bangladesh through Shamshernagar on the Jamuna River. After a few initial operations shadowing a couple of Pakistani ships, the force anchored off Mangla port on the night of 9 December. In the early hours of 10 December, around 5.30 a.m., the force entered Mangla port, which was already abandoned by the Pakistan Navy, most of whose ships were already knocked out either by the IAF or the Mukti Bahini. 14 Squadron had wrought havoc here less than twenty-four hours previously. Samant decided to go further north to Khulna and capture the port
Though Khulna was north of the bomb-line communicated by Advance HQ, EAC to Eastern Command, Samant in his enthusiasm decided to ignore the bomb-line and sailed north.” The BSF craft remained at Chalna-Mongla, and the Padma, Palash and the Panvel proceeded to Khulna. Samant possibly put too much confidence in the yellow cloth panels laid out on the top of the boat bridges that were to act as a friendly recognition marker for any Indian aircraft.
Task Force Alfa arrived at the Khulna port at 11.20 a.m. and sailed north along the Pussur River. The town itself had no visible Pakistani presence. Samant decided to sail ahead and take over the Pakistani naval establishment at Khulna. As they closed in at 11.45 a.m., the crew’s attention turned skywards to the roaring sound of jets: three Gnats had just made a pass overhead and had seen the boats.
Khulna was a mere seventy miles from Dum Dum and had been the subject of attention for the short-legged Gnats most of the previous days. The initial expectations that IAF pilots would recognize the friendly yellow panels were belied as the two of the three Gnats made a rocket attack on the boats.
The first to be hit was MV Padma; the rockets hit the craft amidships and soon set it ablaze. MV Palasb was stuck by rockets between her funnel and the gun mounting, and the whole stern caught fire. The captain of the Palash quickly decided to beach her on the starboard bank. The crew of the Palasb escaped by jumping ashore or by diving into the waters. The third Gnat attacked INS Panvel but the ship escaped by zigzagging vigorously in the narrow channel even as its crew fired back at the aircraft to disturb the pilots’ aim.
Having expended their rockets, the Gnats returned to strate the boats. Palash was hit again; several of its crew members were killed or wounded. One of the Mukti Bahini crew members who succumbed to the strafing was engine room artificer Mohammed Ruhul Amin, a former Pakistani navy seaman who manned the engine through the strafing and stood by his post. In recognition of his gallantry, he would be awarded the Bir Shresto, the highest gallantry award instituted by the Government of Bangladesh.
The captain of INS Panvel, Lieutenant Commander J.P.A. Noronha, beached his gunboat with his engine churning at full power and generating smoke profusely. The Gnats left his boat assuming it had been hit and shifted their attention to other port installations. Parvel’s crew hastily evacuated lest the Gnats returned. Fortunately the Gnats had left.
The Pakistanis observing the strafing realized the boats were hostile and started firing at the boats and the crew. The crew of Panvel who had abandoned ship returned to the boat and returned fire. They then picked up any survivors in the water and on the shore. Some survivors who managed to swim to the shore were captured by the Pakistanis (and liberated after the surrender of Khulna).
The Gnats appeared for a third time but now they focused on the shore installations and left INS Panvel alone. Panvel picked up six more survivors, two of whom died due to shock and loss of blood. Having recovered the survivors, Panvel sailed out of the area, and reached Indian territory the next day at 6.45 p.m. Several Mukti Bahini and BSF crewmen had been killed or wounded in the attack
The squadron involved in this incident could have been any of the three Gnat units-15, 22 and 24—flying anti-shipping strikes in the Khulna sector. 24 Squadron usually was not in range to strike Khulna from their regular airbase at Kumbhirgram but having moved to Agartala on the previous day, Khulna fell within its range and it had thus sent some missions there which claimed ‘gunboats’ destroyed.
Several factors contributed to this fratricide: the task force had proceeded much further north than it should have, deep into enemy controlled territory; Khulna was receiving special attention from the IAF as it was a Pakistani fortress; the IAF did not expect
friendly ships in the middle of a hostile area being built into a fortress. Lastly, the involvement of newly arrived Gnat squadrons may have been significant. It is likely the other squadrons may have known about the standing order about the identification marks of the flotilla, but the newly arrived pilots had not been told about it.
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT IN THE NORTHWEST XXXIII Corps sector and the 101 Communication Zone accounted for only twenty-six sorties, a sixth of the day’s overall effort. Twelve sorties were flown in the 101 CZ area, all against the Jamalpur fortress, the subject of heavy bombardment the previous day where Brigadier H.S. Kler, commanding officer of 95 Mountain Brigade had sent a letter to the fortress commander of Jamalpur urging him to surrender. The Pakistani commander, Lieutenant Colonel Sultan Ahmed, sent back a spirited reply:
Dear Brigadier, 1. Hoping this finds you in high spirits. Thanks for the letter. 2. We here in Jamalpur are waiting for the fight to commence.
It has not started yet. So let us not talk and start it. 3. 40 sorties, I may point out, are inadequate. Please ask for
many more. Your remark about your messenger being given proper treatment was superfluous, shows how you underestimate my boys. I hope he liked his tea. Give my love to the
Muktis. 5. Hoping to find you with a sten in your hand next time
instead of the pen you seem to have so much mastery over. I am, Yours most sincerely Comd., Jamalpur Fortress.
The reference to ’40 sorties’ was to Kler’s original letter in which he stated that forty MiG sorties were allotted to him to deliver the final blow. That number did not seem to have impressed Sultan Ahmed.
Kler called in his allotted sorties on 10 December. Three strikes, one in the morning, another at noon and another late evening, carried out by MiGs of 4 Squadron and Hunters from Hashimara were enough. The devastating attacks by rockets were overshadowed by the huge walls of flame caused by the Hunter’s napalm strikes. The bravado expressed in the previous day’s letter evaporated and the Pakistanis tried to break out of the fortress towards Dacca later in the night. But Indian troops had surrounded them on all approaches. The Pakistani troops were ambushed as soon as they moved out of Jamalpur and suffered severe casualties. The Pakistani columns broke up and infiltrated into Dacca in trickles. The troops that remained in Jamalpur raised the white flag as dawn broke out on 11 December. A total of 379 Pakistani troops including four officers surrendered to Brigadier Kler’s troops.
The Hunters of 17 and 37 Squadrons carried out fourteen strike sorties in the Hilli sector. While most strike sorties were uneventful, 17 Squadron lost two Hunters in a matter of hours. At 2 p.m., a two-Hunter formation from 17 Squadron, armed with rockets, took off to attack a Pakistan Army HQ in the Hilli area. Flight Lieutenant Bansal was leading the attack, with L.H. Dixon as his wingman. This was the second sortie for Dixon who had done a bombing sortie earlier in the day.
Both Bansal and Dixon found their target with ease. With air opposition absent, the pilots took their time in identifying ground targets. There was some anti-aircraft fire, which did not bother the pilots. By now the close air support sorties had turned into range practice: the IAF pilots were taking their own time, making multiple passes from predictable directions and loitering over targets. The Pakistani ground defences soon caught on to this.
As Dixon came into attack on one of his passes he felt his aircraft hit. Faced with loss of hydraulic control and fire in the cockpit, Dixon turned the aircraft away into Indian troop lines and ejected.” Bansal was pulling out and missed seeing Dixon going down. By the time he came back over the target area, there was no sign of Dixon or his aircraft.
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Dixon’s textbook ejection bought him straight down into noman’s land. A Grenadier battalion saw Dixon’s parachute coming down and immediately sent a search party to retrieve him. Dixon came down amidst some Bengali villagers. The first two on the scene started hitting Dixon, presuming he was a Pakistani, but were reined in by an elderly villager. Dixon was able to get his Bangladeshi flag out of his flying suit to signify he was with friendly forces.
The Indian Army search party soon reached him and whisked him away. An IAF helicopter was dispatched from Hashimara to search for Dixon, but could not land due to intermittent small arms fire. Dixon spent the night with the Indian Army before being moved the next day to Siliguri and then airlifted back to Hashimara by night.
A second Hunter was lost in the same area around the same time. Flying Officer Rajesh Lal of 37 Squadron, who was returning from a strike sortie, experienced loss of power just before entering Indian territory. Lal, who had borrowed a Hunter from 17 Squadron for the strike, tried to correct the loss of power but kept losing altitude; he did not have enough altitude or speed to make it to Hashimara. Lal’s leader instructed him to eject as soon as they crossed into Indian territory but Lal refused. He had spotted the Cooch Behar airfield ahead, and decided to save his Hunter by landing there.
Cooch Behar, like other local World War II airfields, was a disused airfield with a runway barely a kilometre long. The effective length of the runway available for a Hunter gliding in at high speed was less than 800 yards. Lal’s Hunter touched down heavily on the threshold, collapsing the undercarriage and smashing the fuselage against the rough concrete. The aircraft slewed on its side and broke up into multiple pieces. Incredibly, Lal walked out of the cockpit unharmed except for a few bruises.” He was picked up by an Alouette III from Hashimara flown by Squadron Leader Nanda Cariappa. Less than twenty minutes after his crash landing, Lal was back at Hashimara, contemplating his close brush with death.
CLOSE SUPPORT MISSIONS IN THE IV CORPS SECTOR While IAF squadrons from Calcutta and Panagarh diverted their attention to Kushtia, the Hunters from Hashimara focused on the XXXIII Corps and 101 Communication Zone Sectors, while the MiG-21s from Gauhati operated in both the 101 CZ and IV Corps Areas.
Due to an offensive launched by 23rd Mountain Division against the Lakshyam fortress, 28 Squadron’s MiGs flew several sorties to Bhairab Bazaar, Lalmai Hills, Mainamati and Fenchuganj area. While the Pakistanis had evacuated Comilla, they were entrenched in the Cantonment and Lalmai Hills. At least one tank was destroyed and several bunkers were rocketed on these strikes.
At the Ashuganj Bridge, the scene of a fierce battle the day before, Indian troops had occupied the eastern bank of the Meghna while the Pakistani brigade remained entrenched on the western bank. The 300-feet grain silo building on the eastern bank, which had been a Pakistani observation post was now a forward air controller’s post. The FAC with 18 Rajput, Flying Officer Dalbir Dhillon, who was wounded the previous day, bought in the first raid by two Hunters from Kumbhirgram; these dropped napalm on the jetty on the far bank. The napalm failed to ignite, but a formation of MiGs, flying their fourth mission, rocketed the napalm and set it ablaze.
The fifth close support sortie flown by 28 Squadron generated some excitement for the pilots involved. At 11 a.m., an ‘immediate demand’ sortie was ordered for the Comilla sector. Since most pilots had flown at least one sortie, with some preparing for targets like Dacca Radio, only one aircraft from 28 Squadron could be spared. Flight Lieutenant C.D. Chandrasekhar was assigned the mission; he would join a pilot from 4 Squadron, Flight Lieutenant Hemu Sardesai, who had been busy in the Jamalpur strikes and had been flying bombing sorties to Dacca. He had just returned from a successful bombing sortie from Kurmitola where the taxi track had been put out of commission. The two pilots reached Comilla at 11.30 a.m. and were directed by the FAC to attack Pakistan Army tanks (these were most likely captured PT-76 tanks from the 1965 war that had been impressed by the Pakistanis to stop the Indian offensive). Both the pilots spotted their target easily and destroyed one tank each. They then attacked some bunkers on a hillock. During one of the attack runs, Chandrasekhar felt his aircraft hit and noticed his engine begin to rumble. The oil pressure gauge read zero suggesting an imminent failure. Chandrasekhar pulled out of the attack and weighed his options. Not wishing to bet on the engine lasting half an hour back to Gauhati, ‘CD’ decided to head for Agartala, a mere couple of minutes flying time away. Sardesai accompanied him.
While Agartala had a short runway, it was possible for the MiG to land using its tail parachute. Chandrasekhar carried out a smooth landing, the tail chute popping out as soon as the wheels touched ground. The MiG slowed down to a halt twothirds of the distance down the runway. Satisfied his wingman was safe, and with his own fuel levels about to reach ‘bingo’ levels, Sardesai climbed for endurance. He was immediately picked up by the 59 SU radar at Shillong. The standing instructions for the SU were to identify aircraft that climbed high as being in an emergency situation. The radar controllers assured Sardesai they had him on radar and gave him the altitude and compass bearing for a straight flight to Gauhati. The diversion to Agartala and additional flying time meant the sortie was already late by ten minutes, taking seventy minutes instead of the usual sixty or so. Sardesai made the direct approach and landed with hardly 100 litres of fuel remaining; not enough if he had missed an approach and gone around.
At Agartala, Chandrasekhar’s MiG was checked by the ground crew and its electrical system fixed. Agartala’s runway length was not enough for a MiG-21 to take off at full load so it was flown out with partially filled tanks, enough for a one-way flight to Gauhati. The period while Chandrasekhar’s MiG had been parked on the tarmac was the only time Agartala played host to a MiG-21.
Lalmai Hills received more attention when Manbir Singh led four MiG-21s on the last mission of the day. Bunkers and gun positions were attacked successfully though Flight Lieutenant Mitra returned with some damage to his aircraft.
In the afternoon a new location for the Dacca radio station was identified by intelligence. A four-aircraft mission, led by Wing Commander Bishnoi, was launched against them. The MiG pilots bombed three buildings and a tin shed, which were left smoking in ruins.
FLYING ON A WING, AN ENGINE, AND A PRAYER After the diversion of helicopter resources from Sylhet to Brahmanbaria on 9 December, the forces dropped at Sylhet were left to fend for themselves, supported by the IAF units at Kumbhirgram and Agartala. IV Corps realized the battalion needed key supplies and in the absence of helicopter support, requested their air dropping.
IV Corps’ request was routed to 33 Squadron at Gauhati. Most transport aircraft were being prepared for an upcoming para operation but Caribous were available. Flying Officer Rudra Kumar Bishnoi, who had been involved in bombing sorties over the previous three nights, was dispatched to Agartala in Caribou BM770 with H.S. Sahani as co-pilot, a navigator and a twoman ejection crew. Bishnoi would first proceed to Agartala and Kumbhirgram to load supplies, fly to Sylhet, drop them near the Gorkhas and then return to Gauhati.
After finishing at Agartala, Bishnoi flew to Kumbhirgram at midday and loaded the Caribou with essential supplies, mostly ammunition for the Gorkhas. The supply drop would take place in the evening just as it was getting dark. The Gorkhas would mark the drop zone with some old parachutes from a previous drop. Prior to Bishnoi’s flight, at noon, another Caribou had paradropped artillery ammunition which had been scattered all over the drop zone due to stiff winds. The Gorkhas had laboriously collected the supplies, all the while harassed by Pakistani fire. Bishnoi was instructed to drop his cargo load without chutes; this
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would require him to fly low and slow over the drop zone as the ejection crew made sure cargo palettes rolled out the back and dropped onto the ground.
With Bishnoi at its controls, Caribou BM770 arrived over the drop zone on schedule-in near darkness, with heavy fighting underway at the battle zone. The aircrew could observe Sylhet in flames thanks to the Indian strikes as well as the artillery being employed by both sides.
Bishnoi tried to stay on the Indian side of the battle even as ground fire targeted his aircraft. After circling for a while, he identified the drop zone marked by parachutes laid out on the ground; these were discernible even though it was dark. As the Caribou began its supply run, the ACT officer Flying Officer Sharma indicated where heavy ground fire would be encountered as well as instructions to avoid it.
As soon as the supplies left the cargo hold and dropped, Bishnoi pulled back on the yoke to climb and exit the drop area, and as he did so, the Caribou presented a clear target to the Pakistani barrage of fire. A bullet hit the port engine and possibly severed a fuel connection. The massive Pratt and Whitney R-2000 radial engine burst into flames as Bishnoi’s fire indication instruments lit up. As engine power fell off rapidly, the Caribou struggled through the air with one engine down. Ahead, a row of trees seemed to reach out to his aircraft. Bishnoi, struggling to keep the Caribou’s nose up, was just able to clear the tree line. He then feathered the spluttering port engine, by turning the propeller blades by ninety degrees to provide the least resistance to the airflow.
Clearing out of the battle area at low level, Bishnoi weighed his options. The original flight plan was to carry out a night landing at Gauhati, which had ample night landing facilities and a good radar at Shillong. But the Caribou would not be able to climb enough to clear the Shillong heights which were about 7,000 feet high. In normal circumstances, the Caribou would have taken six minutes to climb and clear the Shillong hills, but with just one engine, the climb rate would be decreased by ninety per cent clearing hills at 7,000 feet altitude would take nearly thirty-live minutes. There was no way to evade the hills or fly through the valleys at night. Bishnoi decided to double back to Kumbhirgram and attempt a night landing. He radioed ahead and informed them he was in an emergency and would need help.
Kumbhirgram was then being commanded by Group Captain J.B. Latta, who ordered station personnel to bring trucks, jeeps, and scooters down to the runway and use their headlights to illuminate it. Some gooseneck lamps were also set up. Bishnoi surmised fuel could be leaking out of the port (left) engine, which could be ignited by the gooseneck lamps; he requested the lamps be placed to the right of the runway. The vehicles were parked there and Bishnoi was instructed to land on the left side of the visible lights. Kumbhirgram was covered by clouds and it took some time for Bishnoi to spot the lights but once the lights were in sight, Bishnoi was able to line up while approaching the runway in a very shallow glide angle. There was not enough engine power to exploit the Caribou’s STOL capabilities.
Expertly using the rudder and helped by the Caribou’s huge vertical fin, Bishnoi crabbed his way onto the runway and touched down. He straightened the aircraft and applied brakes to bring it to a rushing halt. It was pitch dark and he taxied the

aircraft to the side of the runway and parked. The next morning, the aircraft was towed to a parking spot. The crew examined the damage and found numerous bullet holes; the fuel tank in the left wing spar was holed and the fuel had completely drained. There were black stains on the port engine from the engine fire’s smoke. A ground crew from Gauhati patched up the Caribou after which Bishnoi and Sahani carried out an air test to confirm the aircraft’s handling and then flew it to Gauhati for major repairs.
Thus ended 10 December: Eastern Air Command had flown 198 sorties. Three Hunters were lost, not all of them due to enemy action, but the IAF’s luck was bolstered by its pilot skills. Tayal’s Gnat, Chandrasekhar’s MiG, R.K. Bishnoi’s Caribou and Saigal’s Alouette all led charmed lives and flew for years to come.
At the end of the day the IAF had extinguished the faint glimmer of hope afforded to the Pakistan Army from the battles at Kushtia, Ashuganj or Jamalpur. Only one outcome to the war was now possible; its timing the sole issue of interest for the Pakistan Army.

NOTES
1. http://www.c-7acaribou.com/history/images/Caribou_Brochure_
Web.pdf; an excellent source on Caribou metrics. 2. Anandeep Pannu, ‘Profile of a Transport Pilot’ (http://www.bharat
rakshak.com/IAF/History/1950s/Bhachu01.html). Interview with Group Captain R.K. Bishnoi. Flying Officer Rajeshwar Prasad would in later years quit the IAF to join politics. He would be more famously known as Rajesh Pilot
and serve as a minister in the Congress government. 5. Air Commodore Manbir Singh’s correspondence with the authors. 6. The Gorashal bridges are located at 23.9405 N, 90.6182 E. 7. Air Commodore Manbir Singh’s correspondence with the authors. 8. HRC Report. 9. Ahmed, Khaleel Air Commodore 50 Years of Excellence Legend of
the Tail Choppers PAF Book Club. 10. Sent at 11.15 a.m. (from HRC report). 11. Air Commodore Chatrath’s Correspondence with the authors.
12. Interview with Wing Commander D.S. Kohli. Two days after the
raid and the news of the civilians killed was all over the newspapers, the squadron members reconstructed the raid and worked out the
timings over target for each pilot. 13. A German TV cameraman, Jenns Uwe Scheffler reported that he
saw twenty bodies in the devastation, and possibly more were buried in the rubble (The Times (London) 13 December 1971). Scheffler also reported the orphanage bombing was an exception and that
IAF jets had only attacked military targets. 14. St Petersburg Times, 11 December 1971, page 10A. The Evening
Independent, 9 December 1971, page 22A quotes the orphanage founder Mohammad Rahman as saying that the girls were safe as they were in a different building, but the boys were ‘missing. The same report (Peter O Loughin, Associated Press writer) confirms that at least seventeen victims were dug out and the rest are
presumed ‘missing’ 15. TIME Magazine, December 1971. 16. No photographs of this bomb rack have emerged but the
description of the ‘bomb rack’ matches the description of the skid-boards used in transporting the bombs out the rear cargo ramp of the Caribous. For his recommendations, Yeager received some undeserved flak in
Jack Anderson’s The Anderson Papers, Ballantine Books, 1974. 18. The identity of the IAF unit carrying out the strike is unknown. 19. Palit, D.K., The Lightning Campaign, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers,
1998, p. 121. 20. The ‘Uban Force’ was not part of the regular army but part of an
irregular Tibetan unit the RAW operated. As such, Uban operated outside the chain of command of the Indian Army’s Eastern Command. His unit was based in Mizoram battling Mizo insurgents
and so was leveraged for the war. 21. Correspondence with Wing Commander Vinod Neb, via Air
Marshal Bharat Kumar 22. For his role, Squadron Leader Marathe, the FAC pilot, was
mentioned in dispatches. 23. Uban, Major General Sujan Singh, Phantoms of Chittagong: the Fifth
Arwry’ in Bangladesh, New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1985, p. 89. 24. Air Marshal M.M. Singh, ‘Gnats over Bangladesh’, Air Forces
Montbly, November, 1991.
25. Pandya, S.V., Soldiers in the Sky-Army Aviation Photo Essay, New
Delhi, Army Aviation, 2006. 26. Capt. Gurbaksh Singh Sihota (Later Lt General (Retd), was
awarded the Vir Chakra for his participation in the battles on this
day. 27. The Tuil Choppers history makes the incredulous (and baseless) claim
that rebellion of the MODC guards was initiated by the Indians’. *After destroying the runway, the next target for the Indians was the squadron aircrew. One night the Indians attempted to murder all the squadron aircrew with the help of the MODC Guards.’ The book fails to elaborate any further on the role of the ‘Indians’ or why the MODC Guards retained its Bengali personnel while other
units had withdrawn them from duty. 28. As mentioned in the Hameed-ur-Rahman Commission Report
downloaded from web.archive.org 29. Khan, Air Marshal Inam-ul-Haq (Retd), HJ, former Air Officer
Commanding East Pakistan, ‘Saga of PAF in East Pakistan 1971’,
Defence Journal, May 2009. 30. This particular signal seems to have been sent quite early in the day,
much before the IAF’s anti-shipping operations had achieved full
momentum 31. Hameed-ur-Rahman Commission Report (HRC Report). 32. Signal A-7107 dated 10 December 1971 from the Governor to the
President of Pakistan. 33. Interview with the authors. 34. Tayal’s Gnat on this eventful flight was E295, the same aircraft used
to score a Sabre kill two weeks earlier by Don Lazarus. 35. He apparently informed EAC of the decision, but the message did
not percolate down to the IAF Squadrons in the sector. 36. The Indian Navy awarded the Maha Vir Chakra to Leading Scaman
C. Singh, who was a crewmember of one of the boats. Singh not only rescued several crewmembers from the water during the strafing, but also helped several escape on the shore when he rushed incoming Pakistani troops. He was taken prisoner and later liberated. Additionally the force commander Commander Samant and Lieutenant Commander J.P.A. Noronha, Captain of the Parow
were also awarded the Maha Vir Chakra. 37. The letter is reproduced in the leaked copy of the Official History of
the Bangladesh War available at www.bharat-rakshak.com

38. Though Dixon recollected his aircraft being hit by ground fire,
a declassified IAF report circulated post-war on aircraft losses
attributed Dixon’s loss to technical failure. 39. Interview with Air Commodore L.H. Dixon. 40. Interview with Air Chief Marshal S.K. Kaul.
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EIGHT
Tightening the Noose

After its abortive attempt to evacuate foreign nationals from Dacca on 7 December, the United Nations brokered another ceasefire to enable flights into Tezgaon. The twenty-four-hour ceasefire over Dacca came into effect at 6 p.m. on 10 December; to allow runway repairs to proceed, the IAF ceased striking Tezgaon that day. Amongst the almost 500-strong overseas contingent in Dacca were seventy-five Americans, mostly consulate staff, sundry diplomats and United Nations staff, a few journalists, and some members of the relief effort who declined evacuation.
The British volunteered three C-130s from the RAF station in Singapore for the evacuation. The RAF C-130s proceeded to Dacca via Calcutta but were refused permission to land at Tezgaon. Two attempts were made, one by the RAF C-130, the other by the Canadian UN C-130; in each case, Dacca ATC informed them they would not be allowed to land because they had taken off from India. The Canadian C-130 was thirty miles from Dacca as the control tower said, ‘We don’t give a damn about UN auspices. No plane that has landed in India can land here! The UN representative Paul Marc Henri protested to General Rao Farman Ali who suggested Yahya Khan feared Indian paratroopers would land under the guise of the evacuation flights. All four aircraft remained at Calcutta for the night.
BRIDGE-BUSTING For most IAF squadrons 11 December was a day of reduced activity due to the ceasefire and the planned Tangail paradrop in the afternoon. Most close support and interdiction missions in II Corps’ sector, like those on 10 December, focused on Kushtia, which was pounded all day by Hunters from 14 Squadron and Sukhois from 221 Squadron.
One mission led by Wing Commander Sridharan, CO, 221 Squadron, fetched handsome dividends. Armed with two M-62 500-kg bombs each, a four-Sukhoi formation targeted the massive Hardinge Bridge in the II Corps sector.
The Hardinge Bridge, a steel railway bridge 1.8 km long connecting Kushtia on the southern bank to Paksey on the northern, was a colonial legacy dating back to 1915. It was the only major bridge over the river Padma (Ganga) connecting II Corps’ sector with that of XXXIII Corps; Ishurdi village and airfield lay close to its northern end. The Pakistan Army Brigade at Kushtia, which had been bombarded for two days, sought to move from the Indian II Corps area to the XXXIII Corps area of operations by crossing the bridge to the northern bank of the Padma. The IAF sought to interdict this movement.
Like the MiG pilots on their runway-busting missions, each Sukhoi pilot delivered his bomb payload in a steep glide. Sridharan went in first, followed by Chawla and Vijay Joshi. Some bombs hit the water or the soft sand of the riverbed while yet others seemed to strike the bridge, which however, still stood firm. Only a direct hit on the bridge spans or the concrete base for the spans would be efficacious.
A direct hit was delivered by the formation’s No. 4, Flight Lieutenant Rajiv Maindarkar, as his bombs landed on the fourth span from the northern side, the bridge promptly collapsed in a cloud of dust and debris. A Pakistani artillery regiment was then crossing over, as the bomb exploded and the span fell into the river, a gun detachment travelling on that span fell into the water. Pakistani troops rushed to the gaping chasm, found one lucky NCO hanging by the rail and pulled him out.”

221 Squadron carried out other strikes on Kushtia, targeting railway sidings and power stations. They were supported by 14 Squadron’s Hunters, which flew two missions to Kushtia. Due to the reduced scale of operations, these were the only missions for 14 Squadron, bringing their total to six sorties. 28 Squadron flew eight offensive air support sorties against the Comilla complex The MiGs used only bombs in these sorties; the results were not encouraging. In the first mission, as many as six of the eight bombs failed to explode. The second mission had similar results.
THE MYMENSINGH NAPALM STRIKE While the effectiveness of the M-62 bombs against soft targets was poor, the IAF was able to get better results using napalm against Mymensingh; this was delivered by a two-aircraft mission from Hashimara led by Wing Commander S.K. Kaul, CO 37 Squadron, with Flying Officer Harish Masand as his No. 2. Through numerous pre-war and wartime sorties, kaul and Masand had built up excellent rapport and mutual faith; any mission that Kaul led featured Masand as wingman.
However this mission could have been staffed differently. The previous evening, after sundown and the return of all missions, Kaul had summoned Masand to his office. As adjutant, Masand sauntered into Kaul’s office equipped with a notepad and pen for taking notes. A sombre-faced Kaul informed Masand his younger brother, Bharat Masand, an infantry officer in the Parachute Regiment, had been shot and wounded in a battle near Jessore. In light of the distressing news, and out of solicitousness for his junior’s state of mind, Kaul suggested Masand lay off flying the next couple of days. Masand politely declined and told Kaul he would stick to his regular flying schedule; news of his brother’s trials and travails would serve as added motivation. This out of the way, Kaul and Masand then turned to planning their strike.
The target for the day was a Pakistan Army Brigade stronghold near Karimnagar at Mymensingh. Photo reconnaissance of its defences and layout-including the campus, sports complex and cricket field-indicated the risk of collateral damage was high: the brigade HQ lay north of the complex next to a group of residential buildings.
The Hunters were carrying two napalm containers under the wings, the delivery of which presented its own challenges, as Wing Commander Kaul noted:
Napalm had to be dropped at lower height. Nothing higher than 100 feet. You don’t have a gun sight capable of determining your drop distance from the target. You more or less use a ‘rule of thumb’ kind of a thing. For medium and steep gliding, you can use the gun sight. But for low level you could not. After we released the bomb, it would curve down. This lead distance has to be a certain distance short of target because it would travel forward and once velocity decreases, it would drop from a height and it would only go vertically. At low altitude it will strike at an angle, there will not be enough time for the bomb to really go vertical.
They had dug in on the right; there were three or four
storeyed buildings, housing blocks for the university teachers and staff and so on. But we had to do it, and we had to be very careful, because otherwise there would be collateral damage. So what we would do is do a dummy pass first to scatter them away. There were people on the ground sympathetic to Indian forces. They could then watch this tamasha and know we are attacking military targets and not the civilian populations. Once the bomb is released, it can go anywhere. So we did a run to scare away the people. Sometimes you see these kids running away, literally scattering away; there is always this question mark in your mind, should I drop it or should I not? That was always at the back of my mind. We were very clear with the information that we had. There was no fight against the East Pakistanis, or locals, who are now the Bangladeshis. The fight was against the oppressors. We tried our best to avoid as much as possible collateral damage. The attacks had to be far more accurate and localized rather than scattered.
The Pakistan Army occupied the northern part of the campus and made their brigade HQ purposely right in midst of the domestic colony. They looked like DDA (Delhi Development Authority) houses, three-storeyed or four-storeyed houses in a row and in blocks. Next to that was the Brigade HQ and after that-the stadium.
You were also constantly reminded and told that don’t go down, don’t go too low, because small .303 weapons were also being fired at you. Stray bullets may hit you. So that was another one of the dilemmas we had to face.
We came in from one side, we had to approach parallel to the set of the residential buildings, six or seven blocks like that. We had to come down low, aim and release at 100 feet or so, as close as possible. First few runs we did, we could see youngsters running, it was one hell of an experience.
Masand noticed that Bengali civilians were not the only ones running for cover:
I can still visualize the faces of the Pakistani soldiers running for cover, seconds before we dropped the load on them from tree-top
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height. The entire stretch was on flames as we whipped around after the drop…the burning stretch is still vivid in my mind.
During another mission from Hashimara, Squadron Leader T.R. Patel of 17 Squadron was leading a mission against targets in the northern sector when ground fire hit his aircraft. Some shrapnel left him with a bleeding wound in the face but Patel successfully recovered his Hunter back to Hashimara.
By day’s end Eastern Air Command had carried out seventyeight offensive air support sorties compared to the 173 undertaken on the previous day (the Hunters flew twenty-eight, the Gnats twenty-four; the remaining were split between the Sukhoi and MiG squadrons). This marked the beginning of the decline in sortie rate even as IAF squadrons possessed the capacity for more extensive operations. During the first seven days of the war the IAF launched an average of 200 sorties per day; that sortie rate declined by half for the rest of the war
PARADROP AT TANGAIL The main act of the day came late: the paradrop of a battalion at Tangail village, a mere forty-five miles north of Dacca. Plans for airborne operations had been drawn up in September 1971 by Lieutenant General J.S. Aurora in a meeting with Brigadier Mathew Thomas, brigade commander 50 Para Brigade, Air Commodore S. Purushottam, AOC Advance HQ EAC, and Major General J.FR. Jacob, Chief of Staff, Eastern Command.
The IAF’s planners envisaged aircraft dispersed across various airfields in EAC, awaiting IAF-earned air superiority before consolidation and commencing airborne operations, in all probability this would occur five days after commencement of hostilities. The aircraft available could drop an entire parachute brigade in one wave. The director of military operations (DMO) identified likely operations:
———
• Capturing Kurmitola airfield
; • Subsequent strengthening of force to capture Dacca;
———

• Capturing Hardinge Bridge; • D-Day (commencement of hostilities) +5: paradrop at
Tangail to block retreating forces linking with Dacca-based Pakistan army elements; Capturing bridge near Jhenida-Magura road to assist 4 Mountain Division (the Division’s rapid pace of progress
made this mission unnecessary); • Para battalion drop to capture Kamarkali ferry on
Madhumati River; D+10: Para company drop to capture targets of opportunity in II Corps area; Only after D#15: Para battalion to capture Kurmitola; to be reinforced by the brigade drop to assist the fall of Dacca.
These tasks were confirmed by AHQ, EAC with directives issued for planning drop zones, mounting airfields and aircraft allocation.
In November, Group Captain Gurdeep Singh, an experienced An-12 pilot, had been appointed commander of the air transport group. Wing Commander Arjun Ralli, Squadron Leader S.P. Maini and Squadron Leader Minoo Vania joined him to forma joint coordinating headquarters to liaise with the army’s Eastern Command. Final plans were approved by the army GOC-in-C, J.S. Aurora, and the IAF AOC-in-C, Air Marshal H.C. Dewan, on 16 November.
The speed of the Indian Army’s land operations rendered several planned paradrops-such as the capture of the bridge on Jhenida and Hardinge Bridge-unnecessary. Two targets remained: Tangailand Kurmitola airfield. With troops yet to make contact with the outer defences of Dacca, Kurmitola airfield was a risky operation. A paradrop at Tangail to capture the Poongli Bridge appeared likelier to succeed. Tangail, approximately forty five miles north of Dacca in 101 Communications Zone Area, lay between the rivers Jamuna and Meghna to the east, and directly in the path of Indian troops advancing from Meghalaya along the Kamalpur-Jamalpur axis.
The paradrop to capture the bridge over the Poongli River would cut off withdrawing Pakistani troops from Dacca. It would include one parachute battalion, 2 Para, and supporting elements consisting of a para field battery, an engineer platoon, signal and medical detachments. The drop zone at Tangail was located in a region whose local residents were sympathetic to the Bangladeshi cause; moreover Mukti Bahini forces led by Kader Siddiqui, a local Bengali warlord, were helping by harassing the Pakistani troops. The first photographs of the drop zone were procured on 5 December (D+2). No further photo reconnaissance was done till just before the operations.
Dum Dum and Kalaikunda were selected as mounting airfields; while security at Kalaikunda was controlled, the emplaning of the para-troop force at Dum Dum was carried out in broad daylight, visible to the passengers, reporters, and aircrew of the C-130s carrying out evacuations from Dacca.
All aircraft employed for the paradrop gathered at Kalaikunda at 9.30 a.m.; they would be escorted by Gnats from Dum Dum. The force assembled to drop the paratroopers, eight An-12s (25 Squadron, Gorakhpur) led by Wing Commander J.S. Sawhney (CO), and twenty-two C-119 Packets (Barrackpore) led by Wing Commander R.J. Ambegaonkar (CO, 48 Squadron), then moved to Dum Dum for the staging. Twenty-seven C-47 Dakotas (43, 49 and 11 Squadrons) commanded by Wing Commander Sunil Roy and Wing Commander J.K. Seth moved to Kalaikunda.? Two Caribous (33 Squadron, Gauhati) for decoy drop duties were led by Wing Commander S.S. Sane. The An-12s provided by 44 Squadron had been used for bombing missions in the western sector and required modifications before reuse in the conventional role. Many para brigade troops lacked experience in jumping from Dakotas; quick refresher courses were immediately arranged for them.
The main drop was scheduled for 4p.m., close to last light but still bright enough for troops to rendezvous quickly. This timing was made possible by the complete absence of the PAF ensured by the IAF’s air superiority. The drop would otherwise have had
to be carried out after dark, making it considerably more difficult, if not intractable.
The para-troop force was airborne at 3.15 p.m. Two C-1195 dropped the Pathfinder (PF) group at the main drop-zone while the Caribous dropped the decoy dummies southwest of Tangail, twenty minutes ahead of the PF group. The two Caribous from 33 Squadron dropped sixty hessian cloth dummies to guide Pakistani troops to the decoy drop zone. Both C-119s carried an identical PF group; if one aircraft did not make it, the other aircraft would stand in. This initial drop was carried out at 3.40 p.m.
The PF group was equipped with radio and signalling flares. After confirming the drop zone was clear, in receding light, it set up kerosene flares resembling a ‘T’. A blinking light was installed at the stem of the ‘T”. To verify the authenticity of the flares, a pre-arranged code indicator using flares was illuminated 200 metres to the port of the ‘T’. The main force followed the PF group. Seven C-119s and twenty-two C-47s dropped the troops of the para battalion; six An-12s dropped ammunition and equipment on skid-boards while eleven C-119s dropped platform loads: artillery guns of the para field battery, recoilless guns and jeeps with trailers.
The main force descended from 1,000-1,200 feet over the designated two square kilometre drop zone; it dispersed quickly. The drop was completed in fifty minutes, neatly depositing 750 officers and men from 2 Para Battalion, a battery of the 9 Para Field Regiment, a para engineer platoon, signals and a medical detachment of 50 Para Brigade. One Packet dropped a howitzer and two jeeps four miles south of the zone. Another Packet with its contingent of forty men returned to base with engine trouble, They were dropped the next day with the remaining supplies.
Gnats from Dum Dum and four MiG-21s from 4 Squadron escorted the transport formation. Wing Commander M.M. Singh, CO of 15 Squadron, flew in the escort:
My squadron was detailed to escort the transport stream as the possibility of a pair of Sabres getting airborne from a secondary
runway could not be ruled out. We discovered how difficult it was to protect a stream of transport aircraft over a 100-km-long route even when they are operating under our own radar cover. A couple of enemy fighter formations could have played havoc. After observing this operation, I am convinced these paradrops can only be successfully carried out either by surprise or in a situation of total air superiority.”
Squadron Leader Jiggy Ratnaparki, who led the MiG-21 escort, found it difficult to keep station with the transport aircraft:
We flew with missiles, a four-aircraft formation of two and two. We went all the way with the An-12s, followed by the Dakotas and Caribous that made that drop. We couldn’t keep up with them due to their slow speed, so we would zigzag around above them and on their side, sometimes flying slightly behind. I remember that zigzag pattern. It was difficult to keep station; they were chugging along at 300-350 kmph while 450 kmph was the minimum speed that we are supposed to fly. Our landing speed itself was 320 kmph…we would maintain about 650 kmph above or to the side.
I was one of the few to see the drop take place. It’s not that anyone would come to oppose us), but command just didn’t want to take a chance
The Gnats did not restrict themselves to escort duties; they also attacked identifiable ground targets and a few river craft before flying back to Dum Dum. 22 Squadron’s Gnats claimed a few river craft on their sweep.
Thanks to the emplaning of troops in front of curious onlookers at Dum Dum, the paradrop effort received unexpected help from the international press at Calcutta. Soon enough news reports overestimated the Indian force strength, possibly making Pakistani reactions more panicked than they need have been. An illustrative exaggeration was the dispatch filed by UPI’s Kenneth Braddick, which claimed an estimated 5,000 paratroopers were seen boarding fifty C-47 and C-119s at Dum Dum airport. Such
295
reports might have discouraged the Pakistan Army from taking on the brigade’ head on..2
After the paratroopers rendezvoused, one company was sent to capture the ferry, while the rest of the force attacked Poongli Bridge, arriving in time to ambush a mortar battery withdrawing from Mymensingh. After inflicting heavy casualties, Indian troops advanced south and had reached the outskirts of Dacca by the morning of 16 December.
PREPARATION OF JESSORE The fall of Jessore gave Eastern Command an additional forward airfield that could be operationalized with minimum effort. Air Marshal Dewan flew by helicopter from Calcutta to Jessore, where a ground party was carrying out quick repairs on the runway, for an inspection.” Dewan and his staff understood the airfield’s operational advantage: aircraft operating from there would gain loiter time over Dacca and other targets.
Dewan was keen to get IAF aircraft stationed at Jessore at the earliest. Squadron Leader Murdeshwar had accompanied Air Marshal Dewan to Jessore and found the little damage could be repaired by army engineers from 9 Infantry Division.
It was now left to decide as to which squadron was ready to be sent to Jessore. Murdeshwar called the COs of 14 and 22 Squadron at Dum Dum to explain the need to move a squadron to Jessore. First up was Wing Commander B.S. Sikand of 22 Squadron, who declined to move his Gnats to Jessore. 14 Squadron’s CO, Sundaresan, however, was enthusiastic and agreeable; the opportunity to operate from a former enemy airfield was too good to pass up.
PAF AWARDS 10 December bought some cheer to the gloom at PAF Dacca, The West Pakistani administration announced leadership and gallantry awards to the PAF: two Hilal-e-Jur’at and ten Sitarae-Jur’at medals. Of these, two awards were made for the eastern sector. The AOC Eastern Command, Air Commodore Inam
ul-Haq, was awarded the Hilal-e-Jur’at (HJ), one of the only two awarded for the war; the other award went to the CAS Air Marshal Rahim Khan.’
The second, controversial, award was a Sitara-e-Jur’at to the CO of 14 Squadron: Wing Commander M. Afzal Chaudhary. While this was the first gallantry award to the squadron after the outbreak of hostilities on 4 December, it went awry–Chaudhary’s pilots did not think he was deserving of the award. Since losing his wingmen in the Boyra air battle, Chaudhary had been under informal scrutiny by his junior officers. On 4 December, he had flown one mission; it did not encounter any of the Indian formations. The pilots felt other deserving cases had been ignored. Most 14 Squadron pilots learned about the award later as they had already fled to Burma, but the three remaining pilots in Dacca were aware of the award to Chaudhary.
PLANNING THE BEAVER FLIGHT Two days after the majority of the Sabre pilots had been evacuated in the PIA Twin Otter, matters were grim as ever and the AOC Dacca, Inam-ul-Haq, saw no reason to retain the three remaining pilots; he gave orders for them to be flown out at night. One of the DIIC-2 Beaver aircraft of the Plant Protection Department, along with a civilian pilot, was allocated for the rescue flight.
The Beaver’s planned flight was not a secret. Most of the international correspondents staying at the Dacca Intercontinental Hotel, the designated Red Cross zone, had learned of the Beaver’s departure as the PAF had asked them if they wanted their precious news footage flown out of the country:
One day we heard that the Pakistanis were going to send out a low-flying prop plane, perhaps a Twin Otter or a Beaver or some such aircraft, and they would take the film and stories for the outside world to see the Indian atrocities’. The plane was mainly to ferry the wives and children and presumably the wealth of Pakistani military and government officials. It would fly out to Burma, thus avoiding any Indian reconnaissance though for a successful night-time interception, the MiG had to be placed directly behind its target at a distance of six or seven miles. This was a tall order in the dark of the night.
CANBERRA RAID ON CHITTAGONG The Gorakhpur-based 16 Squadron had not attacked East Pakistani airfields since the war’s outbreak. After an eight-aircraft mission to Tezgaon on the night of 5 December, it had turned its attention to the western sector’s night-time counter air offensive. Their activities in the east had been limited to a few interdiction missions.
Tasks from Command HQ invariably ended up at the desk of Squadron Leader Karnik, the flight commander who had led the raids on the first two nights. Since Karnik was familiar with the terrain and planning requirements of the east, he would lead the mission to Chittagong. The attack had to be conducted late in the afternoon, and all aircraft needed to fly in a low level profile avoiding airspace between Kalaikunda, Dum Dum and Tangail as paradrop activity was expected.
Three Canberra B(1)58s, armed with 1000-lb bombs, took off from Gorakhpur, routed south of Dacca, and made a direct approach to Chittagong, Four aircraft had been designated for the strike but one Canberra dropped out due to technical snags. The Canberras’ targets were visible aircraft, operable runways and oil storage tanks near the airfield. When the Canberras arrived over Chittagong, they were met with ground fire from the lone light AA battery. The runway had not been repaired and there were no aircraft in sight. Even though the IAF had not struck Chittagong since 4 December, the Indian Navy had:eight Sea Hawks had struck the airfield on 4 December and subsequently four-aircraft missions were sent to the airfield on 6, 7, and 8 December. Unsurprisingly, the Canberras failed to find any targets at the airfield.
The formation shifted its attention to the oil storage tanks. The first aircraft dropped its bombs off target; the second aircraft failed to drop bombs due to a snag. Karnik, coming in last, succeeded in hitting the oil tanks. The AA fire put up by the lone battery was furious, but lacking the same intensity as at Tezgaon. Their
truncated task completed, the aircraft returned to Gorakhpur. The next strike would be carried out by MiG-21s from Gauhati.
By the time Gauhati learned about the requirement to attack Tezgaon, it was dark. Flying Officer Ajit Bhavnani, the ORP pilot, was pressed into duty:19
I was on night ORP duty alone with my MiG-21 armed with two K-13s. Around 8 p.m. I was informed by the CO that the Command HQ (EAC) had received a message intercepted through Mukti Bahini channels that two aircraft, Twin Otters, were going to fly out with very senior Pakistani personnel on board. (Since the two runways Tezgaon and Kurmitola, were out of action due to our strikes, the aircraft would take off from an unprepared strip, the location was given approximately). Later, I was told this included the Governor, General Farman Ali, and senior army officials. The CO told me that the time of their take-off would be around midnight and I was given a location approximately 40 km from Tezgaon. It was decided that I should get there 10-15 minutes prior to midnight and if nothing was spotted in the air, I should fire my K-13s on the ground target (runway, if seen) in that area.
So I took off and headed towards Tezgaon. It was a darkish night and over ‘Tezgaon, going on compass and time, (no other navigation system was then available), I set course for the ‘spooky runway’ as it got to be known as in the Squadron. On time, I began to orbit and look for any signs on the ground, in the general area. I was at 3 km height and then came down to 1.2-1.5 km. I spotted nothing, it was completely dark, and so 1 climbed back and after 15-20 minutes over the area, I began to head back, due to fuel constraints. I had just headed out for 5-6 minutes when I turned the aircraft to look in other directions.
That’s when I saw some lights on the ground in the general area where I had been orbiting. It seemed like a line of lights…they looked like goosenecks.
I headed towards these lights, but due to fuel constraints, decided to fire my K-13s from this distance, onto the ground target, the gooseneck lights. (I was told by my CO that this was the first firing of K-13s on to a ground target in the IAF!)
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pressed the missile-firing trigger and to my horror, both K-13s launched! And worse, the aircraft flamed out! Later I realized I had mistakenly left the missile switch to SALVO, instead of SINGLE. Both missiles firing gives a high chance of flame out in a MiG-21 due to the front air intake.
It took a few seconds under those circumstances, (in enemy territory, on a dark night without the engine), before I reacted. I then carried out the relight drill and fortunately, the engine lit up. I headed straight back to base and landed. After me, more MiGs went to the area where I gave the location. When I returned to the Ops Room, the station commander Group Captain M.S.D. Wollen, saw me and later told me, ‘You are fair skinned, but at that time your skin was like white cement! I did not see any air movement that night. Next morning, the flight commander Squadron Leader Vashisht got news from Command HQ that due to our missions the aircraft did not take-off.
Bhavnani was followed by Flight Lieutenant Hemant Sardesai, who arrived over Tezgaon in the early hours of 12 December. After trying to locate the airfield at Narsingdi, he fired his K-135-the last fired over East Pakistan in the war-towards the ground to deter any aircraft from taking off.20
Pressure was kept up by 4 Squadron with a night sortie flown by Flight Lieutenant G. Bala (armed with two 500-kg bombs) to Narsingdi. He was followed at 4 a.m. by Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh of 28 Squadron. With nothing on the ground to bomb, Manbir Singh expended his bombs on the Tezgaon runway; both bombs failed to explode, probably drifting and falling in soft marshy soil.
The PAF still managed to fly out the Beaver, for instead of the ‘ghost airfield’ at Narsingdi the PAF used a tarmac road near the airport leading to the ATC building in Dacca.?! The cropdusting Beaver was to be flown by a civilian pilot, Captain Raza of the Plant Protection Department. The Beaver’s passenger seats were removed and a wooden box with the precious news footage, along with the three remaining Sabre pilots—Squadron Leader Dilawar Hussain, Flight Lieutenant Schames-ul-Haq, and Ata-ur
Rahman-were crammed into the cabin. It would be Raza’s first night flight. As several MODC guards held gooseneck lamps for illumination Raza took off in the direction of the ATC Building as his wheels left the ground, he pulled a hard turn right to avoid it. Raza may have encountered a MiG-21 during his flight but flew on safely to Akyab in Burma.22
Upon landing, Burmese officials confiscated the film; the pilots and the aircraft were repatriated to Pakistan after the war. The newsreel went missing till March, when the Burmese released the footage, which was broadcast on international television networks and provided spectacular views of IAF attacks and Pakistani defences.
The Beaver took off near midnight. Shortly later, in the early hours of 12 December, eight Canberras from Gorakhpur took off at 2.30 a.m. and arrived over Tezgaon at 3.15 a.m. Six Canberras dropped 4,000-1b ‘Block Buster’ bombs.?’ One of these hit the PAF officers’ mess, demolishing the building and killing some of its occupants. The international terminal building was located 1,000 feet from the mess; its windowpanes were shattered and doors blown off. A second 4,000-pounder fell near the PIA hangar but turned out to be a dud. After the war it was found unexploded and was handled by an Indian bomb disposal team.
Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq confirms some of the casualties on the ground:
Indian Canberra bombers also kept on raiding frequently at night. Their bombing was hopeless, doing little damage to any important installation. A bomb fell not too far from my house and close to the bungalow where Begum Khalida Zia was detained. A stray bomb, however, did land on our Officers’ Mess, the debris from which fell on many of the personnel in trenches. Squadron Leader Rabbani, the only Bengali officer loyal to Pakistan till the very end, died immediately. He was one of my last students at Risalpur in 1953. He later became a navigator. The following morning, I had gone to see an injured general officer at CMH. The place was cluttered with dead and injured, the air putrid all over. By chance I entered a room in which dead bodies were stacked and I was shocked to see our senior air traffic officer lying among the dead but breathing very feebly. His lungs were in a mess, being the result of previous night’s bombing on Officers’ Mess. On my pointing out, the medical staff worked on him and brought him back to life, literally.
The other four bombs dropped did not hit any significant targets; they may have fallen outside the airfield area and been lost in its boggy surrounds.
The Canberras were followed by two Caribous of 33 Squadron from Jorhat. This was their last day of bombing against the Dacca airfield complex during which they dropped twenty 500-1b bombs. Their intended role was harassment on the ground, in which they succeeded.

THE DACCA EVACUATIONS Dacca had been through a hectic night. MiG-21s kept patrol, dropping bombs once in a while and the Canberras’ 4,000pounders had destroyed the officers’ mess. The PAF had managed to arrange for the Plant Protection Beaver to leave with three Sabre pilots and provided medical assistance to those injured in the Canberra bombings.
The PAF now had to ensure a runway with sufficient length for the UN aircraft arriving for the evacuation of foreign nationals. Another ceasefire-the fourth ceasefire period over Tezgaon in nine days of war-was scheduled from 8 a.m. till 12 p.m. local time. The Indian government had agreed to the overseas flights only if they transited via Calcutta to make sure no Pakistani military officials used the flights to escape. While the previous day’s attempt had failed because the PAF did not agree to aircraft transiting out of India, a day later it relented.
The RAF willingly provided three C-130 Hercules transports for the mission. The United Nations included another C-130 flying in UN colours (provided by the Royal Canadian Air Force) The RAF C-130s were parked overnight at Dum Dum after the previous day’s aborted attempt at evacuation.
The runway at Tezgaon was still pockmarked with craters but the Hercules needed 2,550 feet of runway after touchdown to come to a complete stop. Tezgaon’s runway was four times longer, but with its length being split by bomb craters, only 2,000 feet were available for landing. The aircraft could take off by employing maximum take-off effort in STOL mode.25
The PAF cleared the runway of rubble and filled in some craters and even received some assistance from the waiting evacuees. The first RAF C-130 touched down perfectly, deploying maximum flaps and full brakes to stop just feet away from a large crater. The waiting passengers were then routed in queues to be processed through customs and passport checks by West Pakistani airport staff.
Each flight took on board just over a hundred evacuees carrying only bare essentials. Several journalists took the
opportunity to leave the country with video footage of the war, while two German television teams left behind thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment. Most Red Cross officials left, including the senior officer in charge of the ICRC designated safe zone at Hotel Intercontinental. Not all evacuees were human; in the confusion, a loyal pet-owner’s two mynahs and a poodle were also flown out.
Overhead, a combat air patrol was maintained by 15 and 22 Squadron’s Gnats to prevent the PAF from attempting to fly their Sabres from the repaired runway. During their time overhead the Gnat pilots observed one lane of the runway up to a length of 5,000 feet being prepared. They need not have worried; there were no Sabre pilots left in Dacca. Nor was the available runway length sufficient for the Sabre.
The C-130s made four flights between Calcutta and Dacca, with one aircraft doing the trip twice; 480 civilians were evacuated to Calcutta. By day’s end, 273 were flown to Singapore.
A much-needed fifth flight was cancelled due to lack of time and aircraft; many would-be evacuees had to be left behind. (One desperate evacuee had clung to the aircraft’s exterior as it taxied out, then fell off and was left behind.) Soon thereafter the runway was once again bombed by IAF MiGs and put out of commission.??
ON STANDBY While the evacuation from Dacca was in progress, 28 Squadron at Gauhati had been itching to put its runway out of operation even as a couple of interdiction and close support missions were flown to Lalmai Hills, with better results than the previous day.
As the deadline for the expiry of the ceasefire loomed, the squadron launched two missions. The first featured four aircraft led by Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill and armed with bombs to attack Tezgaon. The second, a two-aircraft armed recce, led by Wing Commander Bishnoi with Flight Lieutenant C.D. Chandrasekhar as wingman, left to find the elusive ‘ghost airfield’.
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Both missions were launched a few minutes short of noon. Gills formation would have reached Dacca at 12.30p.m., uncomfortably close to the ceasefire expiration. Indeed, both formations would have arrived at their targets thus; consequently both sorties were cancelled. The six aircraft returned after travelling less than half the distance to their intended targets.
Two hours later the missions were launched again. At 1.50 p.m., Bishnoi and Chandrasekhar were the first to take off, armed with rockets, to continue their search for the ghost airfield; at 2 p.m., the counter air mission against Tezgaon took to the air with Squadron Leader Gill leading Flight Lieutenants N.S. Malhi, Manbir Singh and Dadoo Subaiya in formation. All the aircraft were armed with 500-kg bombs.
MIG VERSUS ALOUETTE Bishnoi and Chandrasekhar were reconnoitring an area northeast of Dacca when reports of a runway sighting filtered in over the radio transmission. This was in Narsingdi, where the previous night single-aircraft sorties were flown to prevent the light aircraft’s escape.
As Bishnoi scanned the terrain below for the airstrip, his eyes caught something hovering over the ground to his right. He identified it as an olive-green painted Alouette III helicopter operating in an area where no Indian forces were present.
Bishnoi decided to attack with his rockets. As he made his first attacking run, the helicopter pilot deftly manoeuvred out of Bishnoi’s flight path. Bishnoi pulled up and came around to try again. Once again, the helicopter pilot made a snap manoeuvre that made targeting difficult for Bishnoi. During the third attack run, Bishnoi’s MiG passed close to the helicopter enabling him to notice the distinctive Indian saffron and green roundels and the letters ‘ARMY’ on the tail boom of the Alouette. The MiG passed so close to the Alouette that Bishnoi could briefly see the faces of its occupants. Bishnoi heaved a sigh of relief; he had come close to shooting down a friendly aircraft. He was planning to use his wingman to do coordinated attacks in the next run so that even
if the Alouette manoeuvred, it would present a target to the next aircraft. Luckily for the occupants of the Alouette, Bishnoi had noted its markings in time.
Bishnoi had stumbled onto a special heli-borne operation in progress over Narsingdi. The army AOP Chetak was carrying the Corps commander, Lieutenant General Sagat Singh, and Group Captain Chandan Singh. The heli-lift of troops and equipment from Brahmanbaria to Narsingdi that Chandan Singh was coordinating had commenced the night before. A complete battalion, 10 Bihar, along with two troops of artillery guns was moved to Satpira in the Narsingdi complex. Even as the ArmyIAF team carried out their recce mission, Narsingdi was already in Indian hands.
After pulling away from the attack on the helicopter in the third pass, Bishnoi noticed an airstrip near Narsingdi. This was the elusive ‘ghost’ airfield.
TEZGAON ATTACK In the meantime, Squadron Leader Gill’s formation had been attacking Tezgaon. Their bombs scored direct hits on the northern part of the runway, putting it out of commission. As he pulled out, Gill’s aircraft was hit by AA fire and began streaming smoke. As Gill called out on the R/T that he was hit, Manbir Singh and Subaiya, who were about to commence their attack, scanned the skies. They caught a glimpse of Gill as he pulled away from the city, trailing smoke. Gill’s wingman, Flight Lieutenant Malhi, called out on the R/T that he had Gill in contact. Subaiya and Manbir Singh advised him to follow Gill to base.
Gill’s call was picked up by Bishnoi who had just finished his recce at Narsingdi. Bishnoi requested Gill’s position, who radioed back that he was just out of Dacca. Bishnoi directed Gill to head straight for Agartala; Gill complied. As Bishnoi and Chandrasekhar looked south they caught a fleeting glimpse of the smoking MiG as it raced east.
After Manbir and Subaiya finished their attacks and pulled out, Subaiya radioed the other two members for their position. Pat came a sobering reply from Malhi, ‘I lost him’. Malhi had been pulling in behind Gill and thinking Gill had engaged his afterburner, engaged reheat to catch up, but instead he overshot Gill and lost sight of him. Realizing something was wrong, Malhi turned his MiG around and scanned the skies, but there was no sight of Gill’s MiG. The aircraft was lost.
Gill had ejected eight miles south of Agartala. He had hung around in the cockpit of his MiG as long as possible but as he neared the Indian border, the fire spread to the cockpit, rapidly turning it into a furnace. With an explosion looming, Gill bailed out, coming down with his parachute north of Comilla. Fortunately his rescuers on the ground were the Mukti Bahini. He was transported to Agartala that evening and news of his safe retrieval reached 28 Squadron late at night.
ATTACKING THE ‘GHOST’ AIRFIELD Bishnoi and Chandrasekhar landed at Gauhati and provided the location of the Narsingdi airstrip and the course for it. 4 Squadron had armed its MiGs with bombs and was on immediate readiness. Flight Lieutenant Hemu Sardesai led the sortie with Flight Lieutenant D.D.S. Kumar as his No. 2. The second subsection consisted of Squadron Leader ‘Maxi’ Mullick with Flying Officer Tyagi as his wingman. Mullick had been in charge of the simulator with 11 Wing at Tezpur. Not wanting to sit out the war in a nonflying job, he had decided to move to Gauhati and participate in operations, flying whenever he got a chance with either of the MiG Squadrons.
The formation duly located Narsingdi airstrip; Sardesai was disappointed to find it abandoned. The formation dropped their bombs and returned home. Minutes later two more MiGs came over; this time from 28 Squadron. Not wanting to be left behind, Bishnoi returned with Flight Lieutenant Vinod Bhatia in tow and again accurately bombed the runway. The aircraft returned at last light at 4.55 p.m.
Later, an Indian army patrol found the airstrip torn up. But it is unclear whether the effort devoted to the ghost airstrip was
required or whether the PAF ever used the airstrip. Indeed, using any airstrip outside the immediate vicinity of Tezgaon-Kurmitola seemed beyond the capabilities of the PAE. Similarly, no account exists of the Pakistan Army Aviation Squadron’s usage operations and whether they used the airstrip. Regardless, EAC planners could now rest assured the airstrip would not ever be used by the PAT
CLOSE AIR SUPPORT The IAF’s ground attack missions, all eighty-five of them, were concentrated in the same region as the day before. In Il Corps’ sector Gnats and Hunters from Dum Dum showered their attention on Khulna, where the Pakistani brigade had settled down for the long haul. Another mission struck transport targets around Hardinge Bridge.
To provide support to forward troops in the XXXIII and II Corps areas, 221 Squadron flew three missions of four aircraft each. They also attacked a power station at Kushtia. This would be the last day of operations for the squadron. That evening, they were ordered to move to the western sector to relieve a Sukhoi squadron there. Sridharan’s squadron commenced their move the next morning.
Among other missions, a second airdrop was carried out over Tangail by five An-12s and a lone C-119. The An-12s dropped forty-five tons of supplies for the paratroopers while the C-119 paradropped another forty additional troops it had failed to drop the day before.
The Navy flew thirty sorties against shore targets. Over the previous five days, INS Vikrant had averaged ten sorties a day; unfavourable wind conditions had prevented heavier usage of the Sea Hawks. As the day dawned with a good breeze, the Vikrant seized the opportunity and launched twenty-nine Sea Hawk strikes, twenty-five against targets in Chittagong.
INS Vikrant steamed north in order to launch a Sea Hawk strike with optimum ammunition by reducing aircraft fuel. From 0600 onwards, 29 Sea Hawk strikes armed with 500pound bombs and rocket projectiles were flown against shipping and other targets around Chittagong. The very first strike made at least six direct hits on the runway and rendered it unserviceable.30
The second strike of four Sea Hawks armed with rockets was launched against merchant shipping in harbour. Two ships in harbour suffered six to eight direct hits; another two inside suffered more than a dozen. Moderate to heavy anti-aircraft fire from inside the harbour resulted in one aircraft’s canopy being shattered but its pilot returned to the carrier safely.
Flight operations were slightly interrupted at 0945 when Vikrant had a breakdown. The defect was however rectified most expeditiously and the ship was under way again at 1035, resuming flight operations at 1100. Two strikes of four Sea Hawks each, armed with bombs were launched again at 1100 and 1115 respectively. Targets once again were the airfield and shipping at Chittagong. The first strike consisted of three Sea Hawks. The runway was once again bombed and a hit was observed on the intersection of the runway. Gun positions on the airfield were silenced. The first strike also carried out photo-reconnaissance of the area. The second division attacked three merchant ships off Gupta Point with rockets scoring direct hits on the superstructure. Medium AA fire was experienced over the target area. One Sea Hawk returned with a shattered windscreen.
Another strike of four Sea Hawks was launched at 1315 against shipping at Chittagong. Aircraft were armed with 500pound bombs and scored direct hits on two merchantmen of 10,000 and 15,000 tons each.
While air strikes over Chittagong airfield and shipping were continuing, a call for air strike on troops and vehicle concentrations at Kaptai was received from the army at about 1300. Four Sea Hawks were launched at 1340 for the target area.
The last strike of four Sea Hawks on 12 December 1971 was launched at 1530 armed with two 500-pound bombs cach.
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The enemy airfield and shipping was once again struck causing heavy damage.”
At least four ships were confirmed sunkin or around Chittagong harbour, making it the most successful day for the Sea Hawks since 6 December.32
Cox Bazaar airfield was struck as well; not by aircraft, but by surface bombardment. Shortly after noon, two Indian Navy frigates, INS Brahmaputra and INS Beas, closed into the coast and fired 260 4.5-inch shells at the airfield. Besides the physical damage, the bombardment was a psychological boost for the local Mukti Bahini.
In an interesting first for Indian naval aviation-close support firepower for an army formation-four Sea Hawks were sent to Kaptai in support of the Uban force led by Major General S.S. Uban.
A BRUSH WITH DEATH As on the previous day, 37 Squadron carmarked a mission to drop napalm on a Pakistan army target in the north-eastern sector in Karimganj. Wing Commander Kaul, the CO, elected to fly this mission and briefed Flying Officer V.K. Arora to fly as his No. 2. The Hunters were armed with two drop tanks and two napalm containers under the wings.
Both pilots started their engines and taxied to the western end of the runway. The briefing called for them to take off as a pair, with Kaul leading and Arora to his left and slightly behind. After take-off, the aircraft would turn right and proceed to the target. Kaul pushed the throttle column forward and the Hunter lurched down the runway. Arora followed suit.
As the aircraft sped down the runway, Kaul was running through his usual checks of speed, engine rpm, etc. From the corner of his left eye, Kaul noticed Arora’s Hunter lagging; perhaps Arora had opened the throttle a little late and fallen behind. But the lag increased as the Hunters sped down the runway. By the time Kaul rotated the nose wheel off the ground, Arora was still falling back.
Kaul realized Arora’s aircraft did not have sufficient speed and at full weight with four tanks underneath and guns loaded Arora did not have enough runway length left to takeoff. Kaul instantly called out on the R/T ‘Abandon take-off!’ As Kaul took off, he returned to focusing on his instruments.
Arora’s aircraft had failed to generate enough power. Even as Kaul’s Hunter took off, Arora realized his Hunter would not make it into the air by the end of the runway and immediately aborted the take-off by throttling back, cutting the engine, applying brakes and streamed the tail parachute for good measure. But there was not enough room for a Hunter travelling at 130 knots to slow down adequately. Arora’s Hunter went into the overrun at the end of the runway.
The overruns at the eastern end of the runway at Hashimara were not in good condition; they had deteriorated over the years with a small rivulet at the end. The Hunter careered into the overrun and the undercarriage sheared off. The aircraft dropped on its belly and bounced briefly as its nose swung to the left. then slid into the rivulet, hit the embankment on the other end sideways and came to a halt.
Kaul whipped his Hunter around as soon as he got the undercarriage up in time to glimpse Arora’s Hunter blow up in flames. A mixture of petroleum jelly and aviation fuel combined to make it into a raging inferno. Kaul was crestfallen. His squadron had lost yet another ‘boy’. Arora had been active in operations: flying against Tezgaon, against tanks at Bogra, and targets in Comilla. Kaul composed himself. There was a job to be done; the army was waiting at Karimganj. Kaul proceeded after murmuring a quick prayer for his lost wingman, ‘Arora is gone; God bless his soul.’
Unknown to Kaul, Arora had not perished. When the dust and smoke settled as the Hunter came to a skidding halt, Arora found the canopy was shattered. He needed no further prodding, unbuckling himself in quick time, jumping through the shattered canopy frame and running for cover like an Olympian in a 100 metre dash. Amongst the personnel who witnessed the crash
was Pilot Officer Sushil Soni, the Engineering Officer with 17 Squadron. As Soni rushed towards the wreck, he found Arora running towards him shouting ‘Bhago, bhago (run, run), it’s going to go up! And go up it did, and spectacularly at that, with two 230-gallon fuel tanks and similar sized napalm tanks under the wings.
Arora was shaken but safe. Soni and other officers quickly arranged for minor first aid. Arora had been lucky: if his Hunter had not turned sideways after bouncing, it would have hit the embankment nose first and the cockpit would have collapsed, crushing him in the process. By going sideways the Hunter’s wing had absorbed the impact. Yet more luck came in the form of the shattered canopy, which made his escape easier.
An hour later, Kaul returned. Before landing, he called up on the R/T about Arora; the ATC officer who replied informed him of Arora’s escape. Kaul was incredulous; he had seen the fireball himself. But Kaul felt a huge wave of relief, the news that Arora was fine provided a perfect ending to his sortie on Karimganj. 37 Squadron made it through the war without further loss of life.
A FIGHTING BULL RETURNS HOME Sometime before noon, an Alouette III landed at a helipad near forward army locations in the Agartala area. The helicopter was carrying a general of the Indian Army on logistical flights. After the general had departed to visit the local HQ, the aircraft was serviced by airmen at the pad, while its pilots chatted with each other.
As they did so, they did not notice an emaciated figure approach. Dressed in civilian garb, with a shirt and a lungi, the man had his right arm in a sling, a ruffled beard and cuts and lacerations all over his face. The arm was blue, infected, and gangrenous. There was little to differentiate him from the other unfortunate refugees who were an all too common sight in Agartala. Thus the IAF pilot was startled when he called out ‘Mama!’ which was indeed the pilot’s nickname but also a common form of colloquial address. Thinking it was the latter, and not wishing to be bothered by a
beggar while a war was in progress, the pilot responded brusquely, “Kya hai?’ (What is it?)
The man approached the pilot and grabbed his hand, ‘Are kuch to pehachano’ (Hey, at least recognize me). The pilot reflexively pulled back his hand and yelled ‘Don’t touch me!’ The stranger spoke again, ‘Don’t you have a friend called “KD”?’ The puzzled pilot said, ‘Yes, Squadron Leader K.D. Mehra’ but ‘Woh tho mar gaya! (He is dead now!) The man exclaimed, ‘No, it’s me, KD!’ The pilot realized the ‘beggar’ standing before him was Squadron Leader K.D. Mehra, shot down near Dacca, missing in action for over a week, and given up for dead. With the help of the Mukti Bahini, Mehra had undertaken a daunting hundred mile cross-country trek over densely forested riverine terrain to reach safety.
After his near lynching on the morning of 4 December, Mehra had been looked after by his rescuers. He had been given food, his injuries dressed and skin cleaned of burned tissue and soot, A young university student, who had gone underground to join the Mukti Bahini, Shoib, came forward to take charge of Mehra. Shoib helped Mehra dress in a lungi and shirt and disposed of his flying suit and IAF paraphernalia.
The news of Mehra being with Mukti Bahini had been communicated to the Indian Army, but not circulated widely for fear the Pakistan Army would start searching for him. 14 Squadron would not know till two days later that the rescued pilot was probably Mehra.”
Mehra recuperated briefly in the village where he had bailed out. However it was not a safe place to be. Soon after his ejection, a Pakistan army patrol made its way to the village. The villagers hurriedly moved Mehra out of the hut, handed him a piece of piping, and hid him near the bank under water. Mehra spent the afternoon sitting under the water, sucking air through the pipe, wondering what was happening outside. Only in the evening when it became dark did the villagers come to fetch him. Soaked to the bone, Mehra wearily walked back to the village.
The village had been burned down by the Pakistan Army patrol:
the inhabitants had fled, but no one had given him up. Mehra’s reaction to this unimaginable act of generosity can scarcely be imagined. In response to Mehra’s anguished queries, the villagers assured him they would be well and would rebuild.
Accompanied by Shoib, Mehra set off for Indian lines; he had ejected west of Dacca and the Mukti Bahini had told him the easiest escape route was to Agartala in the east. After a couple of days, the duo reached the western bank of Meghna. At that time, the Indian troops of IV Corps were trying to reach the eastern bank and were fighting their way to Ashuganj in the north. Having spread the word about their escape, a fisherman’s boat was commandeered to take them across the expansive river. Around this time another student, Sarwar, joined the duo.
During the river crossing of the river, a moment of terror came when they spotted a Pakistani gunboat convoy coming across the river. Mehra and his protectors tried to distance themselves from the convoy, but as the Pakistani flotilla came closer, their time was running out. If the Pakistanis caught them, death was a certainty.
The Pakistani gunboats had crept closer when suddenly, four IAF Hunters swooped down firing their guns and setting the boats ablaze; luckily for the fugitives, an IAF strike had coincided with their escape. Mehra and his benefactors heaved a sigh of relief and resumed their journey to the east. Further across the river, another Pakistani boat turned up, but they hurriedly sailed to the bank, hid among the weeds and grass and successfully evaded detection.
Having reached the eastern bank of Meghna, only dry land separated Mehra from safety. The area Mehra and his Bengali friends had reached lay between the axes of the advances of 57 Division in the north and 23 Division in the south. There would be few friendly troops till they were closer to Agartala, which lay thirty miles away. Not wishing to wait, all three set off on foot. In spite of his injuries and pain, Mehra walked for hours on end. He and his group finally stumbled onto a road where Indian Army vehicles were plying. They stopped a jeep and Mehra was able to explain
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his presence to the soldiers in it. The three were driven to an army camp where he was again interviewed. On Mehra’s insistence, messages were flashed to IAF HQ and a response received that Mehra would be airlifted by a helicopter. Mehra waited during the night but the helicopter did not arrive. Meanwhile, an Indian army doctor gave Mehra painkillers for some relief.
Mehra slept poorly through the night. But his sleep was still better than the previous nights’ for he finally felt safe. On the morning of 12 December the commanding army officer told Mehra another helicopter was expected carrying a general. Mehra arrived at the helipad on a scooter along with Shoib, When Mehra saw the helicopter and the pilots, he instantly recognized one of them as ‘Mama’, a junior commissioned two courses later than him, who earlier had served in Adampur with Mehra in the same squadron. Mehra had been presumed dead after his aircraft was shot down and though his friend had heard of his rescue, he did not realize it was Mehra. He was flown to Agartala and from there to a hospital in Shillong. After preliminary treatment there, a Dakota picked him up and flew him to Delhi. Mehra had to undergo several bouts of medical treatment and endure a pessimistic prognosis on his arm, including the possibility of an amputation. He was able to regain use of his arm but was medically invalided from flying due to other health complications and took premature retirement from the IAF soon after the war.
13 DECEMBER One of the Pakistani attempts to fight back in the air came to naught in the early hours of 13 December. The previous day, General Niazi had instructed the Army Aviation Squadron to prepare to use the Mi-8 helicopters in a bombing role against the Indian paradropped forces at Tangail. One of the Mi-8s was actually fitted with rollers on the cargo bay and armed with 5001b bombs; its crew’s orders were to engage targets of opportunity The helicopter crew stood on standby through the night and into the early hours, hoping to get clearance for the mission. I lowever clearance never came and the mission was cancelled.”
The IAF’s tempo of operations increased slightly on 13 December with 111 sorties flown in the support of the army. With the Sukhois moved to the west, the sorties were evenly divided between the MiGs, Hunters and the Gnats. IV Corps’ and II Corps’ areas received the bulk of the missions while close support missions in the other two zones were sharply reduced in number.
With most of the Indian Army’s movements not encountering opposition, the IAF’s attacks were concentrated on the garrisons to which the Pakistan Army had withdrawn. In all sectors, Pakistani forces had withdrawn to cities and ensconced themselves in ‘fortresses’. Thus Khulna in the II Corps sector, Sylhet, Bhairab Bazaar and Mainamati in IV Corps’ sector received considerable attention. Perhaps symbolizing the irrelevance of XXXIII Corps’ sector, no major strikes were carried out there.
MiGs of 28 Squadron bombed Mainamati cantonment while, with little demand from II Corps, 14 Squadron chipped in with a four-aircraft rocket strike on Lalmai Ilills in the cantonment. 28 Squadron also launched two rocket attacks on Sylhet and 4 Squadron attacked Bhairab Bazaar, which overlooked the now destroyed Ashuganj Bridge, with at least two four-aircraft missions, bombarding its fortifications with rockets.
The first sorties of the day against ferries at Daulatpur and Raipur were followed by two to Lalmai Hills. The last mission at 3 p.m. netted a big ship at Khulna. The Hunter formation, armed with 1,000-lb bombs, was led by Wing Commander Sundaresan, with Squadron Leader Kashav and Flight Lieutenants Mohan and Chopra in tow. Sundaresan’s bombs missed, but his wingmen’s bombs did not. The Hunters were joined by 22 and 15 Squadron’s Gnats which targeted ferries, boating, and shipping at Khulna.
IAF pilots were preparing, too, for a possible showdown with the US Seventh fleet, which had been ordered into the Bay of Bengal. The war diary of 14 Squadron notes, ‘The Seventh Fleet is moving slowly’ and then adds without hesitation, and we are ready for them’.36

NAVY OPERATIONS

Elsewhere, the INS Vikrant’s fleet commander received a request from IV Corps HQ for strikes against bunkers in Chittagong In response, INS Vikrant launched three missions, a total of seven aircraft, between 1.45 p.m. and 3.30 p.m. These failed to establish contact with forward air controllers and lacking target identification, returned to the Vikrant.
A further thirteen sorties were flown against the usual targets: Chittagong, Cox Bazaar and Sandwip Island. Anti-aircraft guns, an ordnance Factory, and the airfield were targeted but IAF crews were finding new targets increasingly difficult to locate.
The IAF also launched an unusual bombing mission using Antonov-12 transport aircraft. While mostly used against targets in West Pakistan, they flew one mission in the eastern sector against the Joydebpur Ordnance Factory. The An-12s had been bought in from Bareilly and used in the paradrops. With the paradrop complete, Eastern Command decided to utilize the An-12s before their eventual return to WAC. These were converted to the bombing role and four of them were sent against the factory complex. The first two aircraft dropped thirty-eight 500-1b bombs; the next two dropped nine napalm bombs each, resulting in a huge conflagration on the ground. But a postwar damage assessment team found the An-12s had missed and probably attacked some other industrial target.
Reverting to their traditional role as transport fliers, 33 Squadron was the first to land near Tangail. Sufficient control had been exercised in Tangail and the Indian Army had prepared a landing ground for the Caribous. The landing at Tangail, besides being the first fixed-wing aircraft landing in occupied territory, was another example of the IAF meeting the needs of the army in its advance.
COUNTER AIR MISSIONS Only two counter air missions were flown by the MiGs from Gauhati, both by 28 Squadron. The first was undertaken at 1.42
p.m. as a test sortie for Indian 1,000-lb Mk.9 bombs, previously unused because of the exclusive use of Russian M62 500-kg bombs against runways by MiGs. The 1,000-lb bombs had been used by Canberras in medium altitude level bombing and by Hunters in shallow glide bombing but never by the MiG-21s. The target was Saidpur, an abandoned airfield located in the north-western XXXIII Corps’ area; from Gauhati, it was the same distance in the westerly direction as Dacca was towards the south. The PAF had blocked the runway with obstacles to prevent its usage.
Flight Licutenant Manbir Singh and Flight Lieutenant David Subaiya were tasked with trying out the bombs by steep dive

bombing. Manbir Singh went in first; he half rolled his aircraft at 22,960 feet AGL and pulled out at 4 km (13,100 feet AGL approximately) into a loop, attempting to release the bombs during the pull out. The attempt was unsuccessful with the bombs left dangling.
Subsequently both Manbir Singh and Subaiya dropped the bombs in steep dives. Starting the dive from 23,000 feet Manbir released his at 9,800 feet over the airfield achieving a dive angle of fifty-five degrees. Subaiya followed with a release even higher at 13,000 feet. The bomb-drift due to wind was significant; all the bombs missed by a hundred yards. The 1,000-lb bombs were not used by the MiGs in any of the other sorties in the operations.
The second and last counter air sortie of the day sent two MiG21s from 28 Squadron flown by Wing Commander Bishnoi and Flight Lieutenant C.D. Chandrasekhar. The pilots saw Tezgaon’s runway had not been repaired after the previous day’s bombing by Gill’s formation. After confirming the Kurmitola runway to the north was not repaired either, the mission diverted to Dacca cantonment where both the pilots dropped their bombs.
DACCA HOPES Dacca had been under twenty-four hour curfew since 11 December. By day’s end, the West Pakistani administration officials could hear the boom of artillery in Dacca. Over the radio waves, the Indian Army chief, General Manekshaw, appealed to the Pakistani generals to surrender, prompting debate amongst Niazi and his fellow generals over their next course of action, Ceasefire seemed the only viable option but the Indians were not ready to accept one.
The Pakistan Army was comforted by promises of a United Nations mandated ceasefire. In the United Nations Security Council, a draft resolution was introduced by the US, on which debate had started on the morning of 12 December (early hours of 13 December in India). The United States was confident of getting the resolution approved, making it mandatory for India and Pakistan to declare a ceasefire. The debate included speeches
by the Indian External Affairs Minister Swaran Singh, and the newly appointed Pakistani Deputy Prime Minister Z.A. Bhutto. The Soviet Union had already used its veto power twice and the Council decided to continue the debate the next day.
In Dacca, Pakistani Civil Services officers with no contact with the military began to feel marooned. Two days earlier, after the aerial evacuation of the three Sabre pilots, Major General Farman Ali had suggested civilian officials in East Pakistan be evacuated to Akyab. The officials’ worry grew as little was done in response. With a few Beavers still available in Tezgaon, efforts were made to organize an evacuation; the governor’s pilot Captain Yousuf was recruited, maps procured, and fight paths to Akyab studied. But Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq refused authorization saying, ‘They (Civil Service) should suffer the way we did’. The Pakistani Beaver never took to the air.
NOTES 1. UPI news story dated 12 December 1971. 2. U. Thant, View from the UN, New York: Doubleday, 1978,
p. 432. Anderson, Jack, Anderson Papers, New York: Ballantine Books, 1974, p. 241. Major General Shaukat Riza, Izzat o Iqbal: History of Pakistan Artillery (1947-1971), Naushera: School of Artillery, 1972. Riza writes that the aircraft bombs set off demolition charges on the span and destroyed it earlier than the Pakistanis originally hoped
for. 5. Interview with Wing Commander Kaul.
Correspondence with Air Marshal Harish Masand. Twenty-four of these had been assembled at Bihta, an old World
War II airfield near Patna. 8. Interview with Air Vice-Marshal V.B. Vashisht. 9. Air Forces Monthly, November 1991. 10. Interview with Group Captain Ratnaparki. 11. Evening Standard, London, ‘Skytroopers drop on Dacca’, 11
December 1971. 12. Even the evening situation report signal sent by Niazi to his Chief

of Staff stated that a brigade was paradropped at Tangail. The message read From commander for chief of staff.) enemy has helidropped approximately one brigade south of Narsingdi and at 1630 hours dropped one para-brigade in Tangail area request friends
arrive Dacca by air first light 12 Dec.’ (HRC Report). 13. Earlier in the day, Air Marshal Dewan flew from Shillong to Calcutta.
Interestingly, the flight was carried out in a straight line over East Pakistan territory, passing within thirty miles of the Dacca airfields. The air superiority achieved provided sufficient confidence to IAF planners that transport flights were now routed directly over East
Pakistani territory. 14. The equivalent of a wartime Param Vishisht Seva Medal. 15. The gallantry and service awards are controlled by the Pakistan
Army. The award of the HJ to a senior commander, especially someone as senior as the Chief of Air Staff is an unusual move. It is a common practice on the Indian side to wait till the end of the war before higher commanders (Brigadier and above) are nominated
for awards. 16. Haider, Air Commodore Sajjad, Flight of the Falcon, Karachi:
Vanguard Books, 2009. 17. Contrary to Jim Sterba’s assertion, the footage did find its way out
of Burma and to the outside world. Parts of it were broadcast over
the international airwaves in March 1972. 18. To the Pakistanis’ credit, with the exception of one Major General,
senior-ranking officers, Brigadier and above, chose not to escape
and abandon junior officers. 19. Correspondence with Air Marshal A. Bhavnani. 20. With the four used on this night, a total of nine K-13s were
expended during the air war over Bangladesh. 21. Ahmed, Khalil, Legend of the Tail Choppers-50 Years of Excellence
(1949-1998), Karachi: PAF Book Club, 2007. 22. It is not clear whether the interception actually happened. The
closest match would have been Bhavnani’s sighting of the gooseneck
lamps on the ground and his subsequent firing of his ordnance. 23. This was the first time and the only time the 4000-pounders were
used in the eastern sector. Khan, Air Marshal Inam-ul-Haq (Retd), Saga of the PAF in East Pakistan; http://imranhkhan.com/2009/11/17/saga-of-paf-in-eastpakistan-19717, 2009.

25. The IAF’s own Caribous needed a ground run of just 540 ft to take
off. In a flat area with no obstacles, the Caribou needed a runway
length of 525 feet from touchdown to roll to a stop. 26. Air Marshal M.M. Singh, “Gnats Over Bangladesh’, Air Forces
Monthly, 1990. 27. News reports suggested the runway was bombed fifteen minutes
after the deadline, putting the local time as 1.15 p.m. The authors found only one reference to the runway being bombed at 3p.m. Presumably, the evacuation continued till the late afternoon, which is why a runway strike sortie by 28 Squadron had to be cancelled at
the last moment. 28. Only after the war, during a chance meeting with Lieutenant
General Sagat Singh, did Bishnoi come to know about the occupants of the helicopter. While Bishnoi was not able to find out who the helicopter pilot was, there was no shortage of praise for him for the
way he evaded the MiG’s attack runs. 29. Sardesai met an army aviation officer who flew into Narsingdi a few
days later and confirmed they were not able to use the airstrip after
the MiGs had wrecked it. 30. Hiranandani, Vice Admiral G.M., Transition to Triumph: History
of the Indian Navy, 1965-1975, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers,
2000. 31. Ibid. 32. The Lloyds shipping register confirms that M/S Al Abbas (8,595
tons), S/S Anis Baksh (6,273 tons), M/S Karnapbuli (9,123 tons) and
S/S Surma (5,890 tons) were sunk on this day. 33. This was realized when the Pakistanis released the names of
Tremenhere and Bhutani leaving Mehra and Samanta in the “Missing’ category. 14 Squadron’s diary guesses it must have been Mehra before official confirmation came. This was perhaps supported by the fact that Mehra called out on the R/T before his
ejection whereas Samanta was not heard from at all. 34. Mehra: ‘All these 12 days I never felt comfortable. It was Pakistani
territory. I felt it; I saw it. People usually talk about it. But I saw it
and I was there! 35. The effectiveness of such a raid is doubtful. Considering that the
paratroops operating at Tangail were highly mobile with no fixed formations, the Mi-8 crew would have been hard-pressed to find targets of opportunities in broad daylight, let alone during the night
in darkness. Moreover, bombs against non-static targets would not have been the right weapon of choice. At the very best, the mission could have acted as a morale booster for a short period of time. The crew that were on standby were the CO Lieutenant Colonel
Bokhari and Major Riaz-ul-Haq. 36. War Diary of No. 7 Squadron, IAE 37, Hasan Zaheer, The Separation of East Pakistan, Karachi: Oxford
University Press, 1994.

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NINE
Governor’s House to the Race
Course Grounds
As IV Corps and 101 CZ closed in on Dacca, the latter’s advance went well enough to not necessitate any air support, and the IAF’s operations were concentrated in IV Corps’ sector, especially against the Mainamati complex. After days of isolating the Mainamati complex, and resisting pressure from Eastern Army Command to carry out an inevitable assault on it, IV Corps felt the stronghold’s fall was finally nigh. By way of preparatory assault, the IAF launched several sorties from Gauhati and Kumbhirgram.
The IAF now owned the skies as no other aircraft took to the air. So an aerial encounter came as a surprise to two IAF pilots. On the morning of 14 December, Flight Lieutenant V.K. Neb and Flying Officer R.S. Ranawat, both from the 17 Squadron detachment at Kumbhirgram, were flying two Hunters on a close air support mission north of Dacca. After finishing the mission, they spotted a high-wing propeller-driven, single-engined transport aircraft that appeared to be an Otter-painted grey-lacking IAF markings.
Neb and Ranawat tried to establish its identity but to no avail as their radio calls went unheeded. The Hunters orbited the aircraft as the IAF pilots deliberated on their next course of action. Neb knew Group Captain Chandan Singh of Jorhat flew an Otter;
while other IAF Otters were flying liaison missions, they were clearly marked in IAF colours and would not venture deep into enemy territory. Ranawat urged Neb on, ‘Chaba lo, sir’ (Get it sir), but Neb, aware of Chandan Singh’s activities, erred on the side of caution and let the aircraft go. On returning to base and reporting the encounter, the GLO wondered if the Hunter pilots had encountered General Niazi on a visit to forward troops. Despite this conjecture, Neb’s encounter was very likely with the Otter of the Kilo Flight.
On 14 December, 28 Squadron flew three close support missions in the Mainamati area. The first at 9 a.m. was led by Wing Commander Bishnoi, accompanied by Flight Lieutenants Vinod Bhalla, Vishu Mehta and C.D. Chandrasekhar. Their MiGs were loaded to their full capacity of thirty-two UB16 rockets. This sortie was followed by one an hour later led by Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh, also using rockets. After these two strikes, 28 Squadron mounted another mission in the afternoon on the same targets.
In the close support strikes, 4 Squadron took part in equal measure. By this time, sorties out of Gauhati were equally distributed between the First Supersonics and the Oorials: “Whenever there was a demand or a task, I would allocate one mission to 28 and another to 4. With credit to Bishnoi and Gole, both led from the front in equal measure. Both squadrons did equal number of sorties almost throughout the war.
Later in the day, 28 Squadron had a bit of cheer when Squadron Leader K.J.S. Gill reached Gauhati from Agartala with a plaster cast on his right arm and right leg, injuries sustained during ejection. Gill arrived disappointed that his injuries would keep him out of flying for the rest of the war.
THE STRIKE ON GOVERNOR’S HOUSE On the morning of 14 December the telephone operator at the Intercontinental Hotel in Dacca answered an urgent call by a representative of the East Pakistan government. The caller asked for John Kelly, the representative of the United Nations High
Commission for Refugees, then taking sanctuary in the hotel, which now functioned as a Red Cross-designated neutral zone. Kelly, an Irishman, had come to East Pakistan in August on what he thought was a strictly humanitarian mission. Ostensibly cast in a neutral role, his sympathies lay with the Bengalis.
With the outbreak of hostilities Kelly had joined forces with Paul Marc-Henri, the UN Relief Operations representative in Dacca. While Marc-Henri managed UN operations, Kelly undertook liaison duties with military and government officials to facilitate the evacuation of foreign nationals from Dacca.
Having successfully planned and executed one such evacuation from Dacca on 12 December, Kelly did not foresee activity in the near future. The outcome of the war seemed obvious; he likened Dacca to Berlin in 1945, a city awaiting the arrival of the battlefront. There was little else for the UN to do in its dealings with the East Pakistani government or the military. So Kelly was intrigued when he received the call, which turned out to be from Dr A.M. Malik, the Governor of East Pakistan.
Malik asked if Kelly and his UN colleague Peter Wheeler would visit him at Governor’s House to attend a meeting with his Cabinet and tender advice. An unsympathetic Kelly informed Wheeler of the request and told him to prepare to go to Governor’s House around noon.
Malik also sent a message to Sven Lampell, an ex-Swedish Air Force Colonel, representative of the International Committee of the Red Cross, and ‘in-charge of the Neutral Zone, asking him to attend. Lampell had come to Bangladesh for relief operations for the 1970 cyclone and stayed back as the Red Cross representative. When war broke out, neutral zones were designated in Dacca under Lampell’s directions and evacuation efforts planned with the cooperation of the United Nations. Lampell, unaware of the reason for the request from the East Pakistani Governor, complied with it.
This flurry of communication lit up the radio airwaves. An obscure electronics unit the IAF had set up in the years leading up to the war, the Wireless Experimental Unit (WEU), operating
with the Indian Army’s Eastern Command, was listening in. The WEU was tasked with monitoring R/T conversations over Pakistani airwaves using the High Frequency (HF), Very High Frequency (VHF) and Ultra High Frequency (UHF) bands of communication. Flight Lieutenant M.L. Bala, an officer in the electronics branch was second in command of the unit and was officiating commander when one of the monitoring personnel approached him:
On 14 December 1971 one of our R/T operators, Corporal B.P. Singh brought a log to me at about 1045 hrs, which mentioned a conversation between some Dhaka Governor House official and a West Pakistan government official. I thought it to be one of the routine official conversations. However, when Corporal Singh told me that the conversation was encrypted and he had to use one of the decoding cards to listen and record the English conversation, it evinced my interest.
Onchecking the logbook, Ifurther found that the conversation was intercepted on one of the strategic frequencies. I asked for the audio recording of the conversation. It mentioned about some meeting in the Government House to be held the same evening, which was to be chaired by the Dhaka Governor himself. As I listened further, I found it revealing the names of the officials attending this meeting. The names included those of General Tikka Khan and the martial law administrator, AOC, PAF Dhaka among others. I heard and re-heard the recording many times and asked the operator to type out the same.
Unfortunately, our OC, Squadron Leader Kapoor was not available for advice, since he had to go on compassionate leave to attend on his mother who was dangerously ill at Lucknow. After making sure that what I heard was of importance, especially because the war of 1971 was critically placed, I rang up the ADSI (Air) on the dedicated phone and informed him about the particular intercept at about 1250 hrs the same day. After about one hour, Wing Commander Bannerjee rang me back and asked me if the conversation has been audio taped. On my confirmation, he asked me to personally carry it to the Directorate. The rest is history.”
The Signal Intelligence Directorate, Army Command and Eastern Air Command immediately grasped the importance of the communiqué. Malik and his cabinet had the capacity to take momentous decisions on the course of action: prolonging the war and shoring up the defence of Dacca, or even arranging for a ceasefire rather than surrender. The meeting had to be disrupted, perhaps to remove ‘decision making capability’; a strike on the meeting would paralyse East Pakistani administration.
Air HQ instructed EAC-barely forty-five minutes before the commencement of the meeting at 10.45 IST-to take immediate action. EAC sent orders out to Gauhati and Hashimara in quick succession. With the meeting fast approaching, and Dacca thirty minutes flying time away, the IAF’s window of opportunity was small.
At Gauhati, Group Captain Wollen was told the target was Circuit I louse in Dacca, a smaller building compared to Governor’s House. The pilots operating from Gauhati over Dacca were not familiar with individual buildings. Fortunately a tourist map issued by Burmah Shell was available in the operations room.
Map in hand, Wollen went to the operations room to find Wing Commander B.K. Bishnoi and a group of pilots who had just returned from a close support mission. He quickly apprised them of the mission and of the need to hit the target by 11.20 a.m. IST (11.50 EPT). The first strike would be led by Bishnoi with four rocket-armed MiG-21s. The time was 10.55 a.m. Bishnoi was sceptical; with barely twenty minutes to fly to Dacca, he had no clue where Circuit House was. Wollen then briefed the pilots to familiarize them with the map: Circuit House was located north of the racecourse in a densely populated area.
Two pilots from 4 Squadron-Flight Lieutenant G. Bala and Flight Lieutenant Hemu Sardesai–were present; their aircraft would follow those of 28 Squadron. Sardesai examined the map closely, noting down landmarks; Dacca’s Intercontinental Hotel and the cricket stadium were prominent ones. By now the PAF posed little danger and IAF aircraft were flying over Dacca with impunity. With so many aircraft flying to and fro, the PAF would be no wiser about the target of the incoming aircraft. As leader of the first mission, Bishnoi tucked the map in his side pocket.
Four of 28 Squadron’s MiG-21s had been armed on the tarmac; the pilots climbed into their cockpits and started their engines. Bishnoi noticed an officer of his squadron approach his aircraft waving a piece of paper. The target had been changed: it was not the Circuit House but the Governor’s House. Bishnoi acknowledged the message but it was too late to brief the other pilots. The four pilots strapped in and started up. Bishnoi maintained radio silence for fear of his transmissions being detected. He decided to fly to Dacca, read the map enroute and spot the target once over the city.
Meanwhile 150 miles to the west, at Hashimara, Wing Commander R.V. Singh, the OC Flying, summoned the CO of 37 Squadron, Wing Commander S.K. Kaul, for an urgent briefing for the same target. Kaul’s first question was the same: Where was Governor’s House? As if on cue a Burmah Shell tourist map was produced. The map left Kaul mystified:
It was a one-inch map. I couldn’t make head or tail of it. It showed a cluster of buildings. From where it was produced or how it came there, how it was found in the underground operations room of Hashimara, which had no town or anything is a mystery! It was a road map of Burmah Shell of Dacca town, which you can buy from railway stations. How it appeared there I don’t know, don’t ask me. But it was there!
37 Squadron would send four aircraft; the first two, flown by the CO Kaul and his wingman Flying Officer Harish Masand, would go in with only front guns. Another pair of aircraft, armed with T-10 rockets, and flown by the flight commander Squadron Leader A.A. Bose with Flight Lieutenant K.B.Menon as wingman would follow.
Twenty minutes out of Gauhati, Bishnoi, calculating he was three minutes away from the target, pulled out the map and pinpointed the target. As they pulled up over Dacca, Bishnoi
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radioed the target would be found on the left. His No. 3 spotted the building and called out on the R/T. The Governor’s House is the only prominent building close to Dacca’s railway station: a magnificent old palatial building, in a huge lush green compound, similar to the Raj Bhavans found in Indian state capitals. The building and the surrounding lawns and garden stood out in contrast to Dacca’s urban sprawl of closely packed buildings and commercial shops. The Governor’s House was located close to the Dacca Cricket Stadium, a prominent landmark, which had the distinction of hosting the Indian cricket team on its first tour in the 1950s.
It was midday at the Governor’s House at Dacca; a few vehicles and cars belonging to the officials of the East Pakistani government were parked outside. Governor Malik’s meeting with his cabinet was in progress when the UN representative Kelly arrived. On meeting Kelly, Malik took Kelly to his ADC’s room where he

asked Kelly about his ‘situation’. Kelly told him he thought Malik and his cabinet were in grave danger of being targeted by the Mukti Bahini when the war ended; it would be safer to seek refuge in the designated Neutral Zone, the Intercontinental Hotel, But before that he and his cabinet would have to resign.
Malik responded the cabinet was thinking about such a decision, but he was against it for ‘in the eyes of history, it would look like desertion’. Malik then asked Kelly if he could send his Austrian wife and his daughter to the Hotel. Kelly said he could but it would alert the international press; in little time, reports would circulate about how the governor, losing faith in the future, had sent his family to sanctuary.
Malik’s ponderings were interrupted as several rockets from IAF MiG-21s rocked the building. Bishnoi and his wingman had done an additional circuit to confirm the target and then ordered his formation to attack from the broadside. In the first pass, cach pilot fired a salvo of sixteen rockets and then went around firing the remaining in the second pass. Bishnoi chose to fire at the room below the dome.
Inside the building, there was pandemonium. Kelly and Wheeler jumped over the balustrade and slid under a parked jeep for shelter:
During the first part of the attack, Muzzaffar Hussain, then chief secretary, emerged looking very pale and we exchanged salutations. As the strikes continued, I ran to a trench twenty yards away which was already full of soldiers and lay on top of them. General Rao Farman Ali ran past, also looking for shelter, and said to me as he passed, ‘Why are the Indians doing this to us?’ Under the circumstances it did not seem a suitable occasion to engage in a discussion and I let General Farman carry on to find his own shelter. The sound of the attacks was deafening. All this time I kept up a running commentary of the attack over the walkie-talkie to Paul Marc-Henri at the UN location.
Bishnoi’s formation fired 128 rockets into the smoke-and dust-covered Governor’s House. As the MiGs exited the area,
two MiGs from 4 Squadron arrived; the strike leader, Flight Lieutenant G. Bala, asked the outgoing formation for their position. Chandrasekhar confirmed he had pulled out; their attack was over. Bala was cleared to go ahead.
For Hemu Sardesai, Bala’s No. 2, it was not a difficult task to identify the building. Sardesai kept his landmarks the Intercontinental Hotel on the right and the Stadium on the left-in sight. The roads leading from the Stadium ended at the Governor’s House. The dust had settled and smoke was minimal.
Sardesai and Bala made four passes each, firing four rockets from the pods. Their multiple passes attracted some feeble ground fire even as both pilots completed their attacks and exited. Sardesai noticed the Intercontinental Hotel’s rooftops were teeming with onlookers resembling spectators at their favourite sport.
Six MiGs and 192 rockets later, the Pakistanis were left picking up the pieces. The Governor’s House was still standing, its windows, rooms, and walls devastated by rocket blasts and fire. As soon as the attack was over Kelly and his colleague left the Governor’s House for the UN office at the Notre Dame College, a mile to the cast of the palace.
Kelly informed Marc-Henri of the day’s events. Gavin Young, the London Observer’s correspondent, suggested Kelly and he return to the Governor’s House to assess the situation. Young confidently asserted the IAF was unlikely to return soon as it would take the aircraft an hour to return to base, refuel, re-arm and return, giving them sufficient time. Kelly, unfamiliar with the dynamics of air operations, agreed, forgetting the IAF had more aircraft than the six that had attacked. Kelly and Young drove back in their jeep to Governor’s House.
Meanwhile at the Governor’s House, Sven Lampell, the ICRC representative arrived. He had pulled off the road seeing the air raid on the building and came in after the all clear:
Nobody was guarding the main entrance. We walked in without any hindrance. The governor’s chamber had not been affected by the attack. We entered the neatly decorated conference hall
where the governor was sitting along with his cabinet colleagues. These were the people who were once radiant in their pride and authority, and who pulled all sorts of bureaucratic strings to interfere in our day-to-day activities. It was hard to believe that these people were of the same breed as the poor and miserable ones that we were trying to help. The men sitting around the table looked pale, exhausted, broken and uncertain. They had not heard anything from President Yahya after their last message about a possible negotiation. They could not wait anymore; they wanted to take refuge in the ‘neutral zone’. Their lives were in our hands. Fate was indeed having the last laugh. I felt like an actor standing on the stage of a Greek tragedy.
The governor and his staff moved to a bunker on the building’s grounds when Kelly and Gavin Young arrived at the still-smoking palace. Kelly continued the discussion as Lampell weighed in as well. Malik was still undecided about resigning. Kelly told him they were in danger of being killed by the Mukti Bahini and the Indian Air Force itself had made a direct attack on their lives. The discussions were interrupted by the clatter of gunfire of yet another raid by the IAF Gavin Young had been wrong; Kelly found himself running for cover for the second time in an hour.
The two Hunters flown by Wing Commander S.K. Kaul and Flying Officer Harish Masand came in from 4,000 feet altitude, The pilots pulled up on reaching target and did an improvised steep glide attack from 6,000 feet. As Kaul recalled ‘There were many buildings, but we located the Governor’s House, crossed our fingers and attacked it! There was anti-aircraft fire, some from Tezgaon and the cantonment, but it was ineffectual against the Hunters.
The huge windowpanes of the building shattered under the impact of cannon shells as Kaul pulled out of the attack. As both Kaul and Masand used their front guns, they were able to sight the damage to the building more clearly than they would have by using rockets, which engulfed the target in dust and smoke. After a couple of passes, both pilots regrouped and exited the
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target area, flying past the Dacca Intercontinental Hotel as a huge crowd of spectators watched with great interest.
The AA fire was noticed by the next pair of attackers, Squadron Leader A.A. Bose and Flight Lieutenant K.B. Menon:
Over Dacca at 6,000 feet or so, there was a constant stream of puffs coming all over, a fair amount of heavy anti-aircraft fire. This sky was actually covered with black puffs. The lead attack was by ‘Supi’ Kaul and Masand, so we had some kind of target information available to us from them.
The target per se was not difficult to identify, since there was no opposition we were in a comfortable position to fly and look for it. There was definitely ground fire. You are not unduly concerned about the AA. And we definitely knew no one was going to bounce us.
I made two passes with the rockets. I was the only one who went in for the attack. My leader didn’t go into the attack.
Bose could not make contact with the target and pulled out,
leaving Menon to make the attacks; after expending his rockets he joined Bose to make for home.
The Hunter attacks were the final straw for Malik. Gavin Young sent out a story broadcast around the world on wire:
The jets made a shattering row. The ground crashed and heaved outside. ‘We are refugees now, too,’ choked Mr Malik. There seemed nothing to say to that. Kelly looked at me, silently saying ‘What led me to come back here?’
Then Malik produced a shaking pen and a sheet of office paper. The ministers mumbled, held on together. Between one crash and the next Kelly and I looked at the paper and saw that’ it was addressed to President Yahya Khan and that Malik had at last resigned. Then, the raid still seething round us, Malik, a devout Muslim, took off his shoes and socks, carefully washed his feet in a small washroom opening into the bunker, spread a white handkerchief over his head, and knelt down in a corner of the bunker and said his prayers.
That was the end of Governor’s House. That was the end of the last Government of East Pakistan.
Malik and his Cabinet fled to the Intercontinental Hotel soon after. By the time Malik fled, 192 UB16 57 mm rockets, twelve
T-10 rockets and 250 rounds of 30 mm cannon had been fired at Governor’s House. The MiGs had attacked the western wing while the Hunters made short work of the eastern wing. The roof, made of nine-inch thick reinforced concrete, was pierced by the T-10s as were the eighteen-inch-thick walls. An air conditioning plant on top of the building was gutted by the fire.
The IAF’s attack, an act of visible, spectacular intimidation, was the last psychological blow to a crumbling regime-Malik’s government-which had been a willing accomplice to West Pakistani war crimes and shored up West Pakistani rule. The attack shortened the war and a Berlin-like situation, entailing bloody street-by-street fighting, was prevented. DRAMA IN JESSORE The IAF reorganized its assets on 14 December. 221 Squadron at Panagarh mustered twelve flyable aircraft and flew to Ambala from where they would relieve one of the Su-7 squadrons operating in the western sector. A skeleton ground crew left by transport aircraft and the remaining squadron assets would move by rail. A SAM squadron at Barrackpore commenced its move by rail to Baroda (western sector) to protect the Koyali Oil Refinery. This movement was completed by the night of 16 December.
At Dum Dum, 14 Squadron was busy planning a move to Jessore. The advance ground party consisting of ground crew and equipment led by Flight Lieutenants Prasad and Sason was sent off in a Caribou. A second Caribou sortie between Dum Dum and Jessore transferred more equipment and men. The 2,700yard Jessore runway was repaired and cleared of debris and the squadron crew was set for the historic occasion of an IAF fighter squadron operating from a captured airbase.
Eight Hunters were fuelled, armed with T-10 rockets-to save time on the ground at Jessore so they could quickly mount a close support mission if required–and kept ready for take-off at 2.30 p.m.
Accompanied by seven other pilots, Wing Commander Sundaresan led the ferry. The Hunters arrived over Jessore within minutes and Sundaresan was the first one to touch down on Runway 15 at Jessore at 2.45 p.m. Five Hunters followed in quick succession. As the seventh aircraft–BA340 flown by Flying Officer S.K. Chopra–landed, things began to go wrong.
Chopra had rolled smoothly for fifty yards when with a loud bang his aircraft swerved off the runway with a wing on fire. Unknown to Chopra, on landing, one his T-10 rockets had dropped on the runway and exploded on impact, showering shrapnel and debris onto the Hunter’s underside. The wings, undercarriage, and fuselage were hit by the debris and the port tire burst. Chopra tried the brakes but they failed. An attempt to use the tail parachute failed as well. As the aircraft came to a rest, Chopra tried to pull back the canopy but it would not budge. Meanwhile the fire in the aircraft spread.
Chopra used his helmet to hit the canopy in a vain attempt to budge it even as fire spread to the gun pack area and cannon shells started exploding from the searing heat. Finally the canopy gave way and Chopra jumped out. His Hunter burned out and was completely destroyed.
The eighth aircraft coming behind Chopra, flown by Squadron Leader Kashav, was diverted to Dum Dum. Along with another Hunter, it was flown to Jessore on 15 December. That evening in Jessore brought mixed emotions to the squadron: regretat losing an aircraft (their fifth), but happiness that Chopra was safe and sound.
ATTENTION TO DACCA Shortly after the Governor’s House strike was undertaken, the Mukti Bahini alerted the IAF that the Pakistan Army had redeployed some troops in the Dacca University area. By now, the MiG pilots from Gauhati were operating with a familiarity of East Pakistani roads that would have impressed a local resident:
There was a time the Mukti Bahini were telling us where in Dacca were the enemy concentrations, which building and which roads. And then there was the tourist map, sent to us by Air HQ thru EAC or maybe EAC sent it to us. It landed on our table and everybody had a good look at it. So now we were talking of flying by roads, by places, by locations, and aircraft were going all the time. If they were not going to an airfield or places where there was ack-ack, they could circle, pick their targets at leisure and even hit a corner of a building at Dacca University).”
The University offensive was started by 4 Squadron with two strikes. The first was led by ‘Pandit’ Tyagi, with G. Bala, Hemu Sardesai and Ratnaparki as the formation members. The aircraft were equipped with rockets. But identifying the buildings occupied by the Pakistan Ariny proved to be difficult. Still, 4
Squadron’s strikes were followed by one from 28 Squadron led by Flight Lieutenant Manbir Singh.
CANBERRA RAID ON NARAYANGANJ Meanwhile the Gorakhpur-based 16 Squadron’s Canberras kept up the pressure on the retreating Pakistan Army positions in the Dacca area. Till then, half the squadron had flown in the western sector, targeting airfields and army concentrations. With Dacca’s fall imminent, the squadron was ordered to concentrate its efforts on the eastern front. This made for a welcome change for the CO, Wing Commander Gautam and his navigator leader, Squadron Leader K.K. Dutta. Daylight missions made for more effective targeting and easier and more accurate damage assessment.
Four aircraft were sent to strike Pakistan Army positions east of Dacca near the Meghna River, to help the helicopter effort to airlift troops across the Meghna from Chandpur to Daudkandi in the environs of Narayanganj. Gautam led the four-aircraft mission from Gorakhpur. Fully loaded with 8,000-pound bombs, the aircraft staged through Dum Dum, flying low level to the Sita-Lakshya River. Nearing the target, the Canberras popped up to 6,000 feet, made a dog-leg left turn and-flying from east to west to avoid overshooting into Indian army positions attacked Pakistan Army positions.
It was already dark and difficult for the crews to assess the effect of the bombs even as Dutta noticed there was no opposing fire. As Gautam pulled up after bombing on heading straight to Gorakhpur, the flight path took them between Tezgaon and Kurmitola over Dacca. In the diminishing light, the ground below almost dark, the outlines of the airfields could be made out and more significantly, Dutta could see flashes and smoke tracers; the AA guns at Tezgaon and Kurmitola were still firing at the out-of-range Canberras. This textbook raid’s results though, were inconclusive due to poor visibility.
Among other air operations, the Indian Navy mounted numerous (sixteen) strikes against Cox Bazaar (three), Chittagong (six), Mangla (four) and individual strikes against Dohazari
and other miscellaneous targets. This marked the final day of operations for the Naval Aviation Squadron. The Vikrant was running low on fuel; the fleet was withdrawn from the battle area and it saw no further action in the air operations.
The Caribous of 33 Squadron were employed for the last time in the war, for a night raid on Bhairab Bazaar to prevent the Pakistan Army from interfering with the Indian heli-landings nearby.
THE FINAL ACT Yahya Khan’s signal, addressed to Niazi and Governor Malik, was clear in intent. It noted they had ‘fought heroic battles against overwhelming odds’ but had ‘reached a stage where further resistance is no longer humanly possible nor serves any useful purpose’. Accordingly Khan urged Niazi and Malik ‘to take necessary steps to stop the fighting and preserve the lives of all personnel.
Khan’s signal was the cause for much confusion. Unlike other messages, this signal was sentin the ‘clear’ without encryption. East Pakistan Army HQ was suspicious of its origin and authenticity. The signal not being sent in code was indeed mysterious; there was little doubt Indian listeners would have intercepted it.”
The Chief of Staff of Pakistani Eastern Command Brigadier Siddiqui contacted Pakistan Army HQ who confirmed the authenticity of the message. While attempts to contact Yahya Khan failed, Niazi’s staff reached the CGS of the Pakistan Army, Lieutenant General Gul Hassan Khan and later the PAF chief Rahim Khan. Both insisted Yahya Khan’s signal be obeyed. Why the CGS and the PAF CAS advised Niazi to seek an end to the fighting when they were waiting for the western offensive to start is unclear. Perhaps the despondency in the eastern HQ had spread to the west and Pakistani generals and air marshals were sceptical of a positive outcome to the war.
This was the opening Niazi was seeking. On the evening of 14 December, Niazi went to the US Consul General in Dacca Herbert Spivak, with Major General Farman Ali in tow. Niazi
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now asked Spivak to negotiate ceasefire terms with the Indian forces, stating that the bombing of Dacca that afternoon had convinced him the fighting must be stopped immediately to prevent further bloodshed. Both Niazi and Farman Ali avoided the term ‘surrender’, but the terms they had put forward pointed to one. Spivak told Niazi he could only act as a courier and not as a negotiator on his behalf.
Niazi and Farman Ali now drafted a message addressed to General Manekshaw, calling for a ceasefire conditional to some guarantees pertaining to the safety of Pakistani armed forces and civilians loyal to the West Pakistani regime. Spivak promised the generals the message would be speedily transmitted but after returning to his office sent it to Washington instead of New Delhi. It took a day for the message to reach New Delhi, because Washington insisted on confirming with Yahya Khan the offer was authorized by Rawalpindi. In the intervening period, more lives were lost, but the end was now really in sight.
15 DECEMBER In the first part of the day seven Gnats from 15 Squadron, led by the CO Wing Commander M.M. Singh, flew from Dum Dum to Agartala to augment the four-aircraft detachment of 24 Squadron based there. Eastern Air Command HQ had planned to locate more Gnats at Agartala since 9 December and with the increased demand for close support by Sagat Singh’s IV Corps, decided some Gnats from Dum Dum should move there. Squadron Leader M.R. Murdeshwar had coordinated these movements for some time, including moving Sundaresan’s 14 Squadron to Jessore. Murdeshwar initially asked 22 Squadron if they wanted to move but they had been operating from Dum Dum for a while and were not comfortable switching stations, 15 Squadron, however, had moved into Dum Dum just a few days earlier and their CO jumped at the opportunity. Agartala soon found itself host to more Gnat fighters.
From their new airbase, the erstwhile PAF base of Jessore, 14 Squadron mounted their first sorties. The six aircraft moved the
previous day had been joined by two more flown in from Dum Dum by Squadron Leader Kashav and Flight Lieutenant Mohan. All eight aircraft were then launched in support of the Indian Army at Khulna. A total of twenty-two sorties were flown during the day by the ‘Fighting Bulls’.
DACCA UNIVERSITY Dacca University, east of the racecourse grounds, received considerable attention for the second day in a row. 28 Squadron flew sixteen sorties as several buildings occupied by Pakistani forces were plastered with hundreds of 57 mm rockets. Wing Commander B.K. Bishnoi noted the distinctive nature of these missions:
On the morning of 15th, I led two missions of four MiG-21s each. In addition, No. 28 Squadron mounted another eight missions. Dacca University was in the middle of the town and had very high buildings around it. We had to fly in between and below their tops.
It was a great experience flying at 1,000 kmph through these narrow corridors and having people actually looking below from the windows above. An unusual sight, to say the least. We made two passes each and struck hard delivering 256 rockets without compliments to the Pakistan Army housed there. A total of 1,280, 57 mm rockets were fired into Dacca University buildings by the First Supersonics’ on that day!
The Hashimara-based 37 Squadron also sent in two strikes of four aircraft each. The first was led by Wing Commander Kaul, the CO:
The Pakistan Army was heavily entrenched in the Dacca University. By this time, sporadic rioting had erupted, as did some street fighting-not easy to fight. So we were tasked to eliminate the strongholds.
In the University Campus, there was a Suleimanke Hall, a biggish building with a gate with huge columns. The facade was easily recognizable. The Pakistan Army had defensive positions in and around that hall. It was a stronghold. We flew a lot in that area. One had to be sure of the target. It is not written on the top that it is so-and-so hall. So we had to be definite about it. There was a Burmah Shell map that we referred to; it was hardly a km or two away from the Governor’s House.
As usual, Harish Masand flew as wingman to Kaul while Squadron Leader Bose with Flight Lieutenant K.B. Menon were the other members of the formation. The IAF pilots flew not just regularly but daringly low. An awestruck Gavin Young noted that: ‘Indian MiG-2 ls came over again and again during the last days. You could see the pilot’s heads from my window.” The constant bombardment by the MiGs and the impunity with which they flew over Dacca further demoralized the Pakistan Army.
CEASEFIRE TALKS With the pounding of Dacca University in progress and the IAF ruling the skies over Dacca, the Pakistan Army Eastern Command could do little but keep their heads down.
On the morning of 15 December, Niazi received a letter from Governor Malik again urging him to seek an end to the fighting. Malik referred to the signal from the previous day and reiterated it was in the best interests of all loyalists to surrender. There was little Niazi could do. He had requested the Indian Army for a ceasefire the previous evening and had not heard from them. Instead, his request for a ceasefire had turned into an invitation for the IAF to intensify its attacks on the city. Late in the afternoon Niazi received a response to the ceasefire request during a broadcast by the Indian Army chief General Manekshaw over All India Radio. He had received Niazi’s request to end the fighting at 2.30 p.m. from the American Embassy. In the broadcast Manekshaw reiterated the Pakistanis’ surrender and added he would ensure the safety of all West Pakistanis who laid down their arms. He noted the IAF would cease air operations at 5 p.m. till 9 a.m. the day after; he signed off by providing radio frequencies to be used by Pakistani Eastern Command to contact him.
CANBERRAS OVER DACCA Bombers of 16 Squadron now began close support operations during daylight. Three aircraft led by Wing Commander Gautam were sent to keep the pressure on the Kurmitola cantonment, Gautam and Squadron Leader K.K. Dutta were accompanied by the Flight Commander Squadron Leader P.M. Takle with his navigator Squadron Leader D.K. Gurwara. The third aircraft was flown by Flight Lieutenant B.R.E. Wilson, with Flying Officer R.B. Mehta as his navigator.
Squadron Leader K.K. Dutta, navigation leader, flew on the Cobras last mission:
We were very happy and we knew things were coming to a close. And on the 15th, that time when the army chief gave the ultimatum that 11 o’clock GMT or 4.30 there will be a ceasefire. That is the time the command gave us the task of bombing Kurmitola cantonment to demoralize the opposition… We went to Gauhati, base commander Mally Wollen briefed us that Kurmitola cantonment was your target. Time over target (TOT) was given around 4.00 to 4.30. I briefed the other two navigators, Guruwara (Squadron Leader Takle’s navigator) and R.B. Mehta (Brian Wilson’s navigator). We had lunch. Only three aircraft were going. The formation call sign was BLACK formation. Black 1, 2 and 3.
At Gauhati 1 briefed the navigators that we will carry out bombing from visual with the sun being in the back in the western horizon….So between 4.00 and 4.30 the briefing was that we go from west to east, identify the runways, Kurmitola at this side and Tezgaon the other side. Cantonment area would be clear. Drop the two bombs under the wings as a sighter. Then turn westbound and come for the other six from the belly. At least if you drop two, you can correct yourself if they had gone to one side and get it in the next run.
As we crossed the Garo hills, we found everything covered
in stratus clouds. So we maintained heading. The briefing was don’t go below. But we went below. Cloud base was 4,800 to 4,900 feet…. We went, we found a little bridge, went down below, and identified the place.
There were the Brahmotri riverbanks. Once we went it was little bit bright. The sun was there. We lined up and with the bombing and dropped the two and I was looking down, I found what looked to me like a fuel dump. And I transmitted; we are going for the final round. Then turned around. By that time there was big black smoke in front, I could not identify anything. It was all covered by smoke.
I said (to Gautam) ‘Sir, I can’t see with all the black smoke’; he said ‘At least you can aim in the centre of the smoke’. So I dropped my other six (1,000-1b bombs) there. The first two were effective. The remaining six I don’t know because of the smoke.
This was the cantonment. And it looked to me like a fuel dump, thus the black smoke. In downwind, I could still see the black smoke. I transmitted to the others ‘Cloud base 48’ and gave them the plan. This is the bombing angle. Both Black 2 and Black 3 acknowledged. Having done that, we climbed and came back. Black 2 (Takle) did his bombing and he also gave whatever details he could. He said ‘Black 2 setting course. Black 3 (Wilson) then transmitted. We could hear the conversation. Black 3 target sighted’. Then we expected Black 3 to respond. Then nothing. Then Wing Commander Gautam transmitted. Black 3 Black 1. Black 2 to Black 1. Black 2. Tried to raise Black 3. No response.
‘Black 3’-Canberra IF916, being flown by Wilson and Mchta was shot down by AA at Tezgaon airfield. As there was no attempt to transmit a distress signal, the crew was probably instantly killed; an AA shell either hit the crew stations or one of the 1,000-lb bombs under the wings. (Somewhere in the airfield, in one of the huts being used as a makeshift POW cell, Squadron Leader Bhutani heard Canberras making passes over the airfield and then a tremendous blast which he later realized was Wilson’s Canberra crashing.)
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Wilson’s Canberra came down six miles northeast of Kurmitola at 4 p.m., an hour short of the impending ceasefire. The aircraft disintegrated on impact and the wreckage smouldered for three days. Nearby villagers recovered some human remains and buried them at the site. An investigation team that visited the site recovered little.
It was a needless loss for the war in the cast was almost over; the Canberras were merely adding to the pressure on the Pakistanis. There was no requirement to attack Tezgaon, as the pilots’ instructions were to avoid airfields and not go below 5,700 feet altitude. Though Gautam took an impromptu decision to descend below 5,000 feet due to cloud cover, the risks were still low as the Canberras would avoid airspace over the airfields. But for unexplained reasons, Wilson flew his Canberra over Tezgaon with tragic consequences.
About the same time as the ‘Black’ formation, other Canberras from 35 Squadron were in the air over Dacca. One of them was flown by Squadron Leader Anil Tootsie Ghosh:
On 15 December ’71, we were relaxing at base after breakfast. Four aircraft had just returned after a raid on Kurmitola. We got orders to repeat the mission at 1600 hrs. We planned to go direct to target (800 nautical miles away) at medium height, descend short of IP, and return via Kalaikunda. It was my 14th mission of the war. As this was considered to be a milk run, a rookie navigator, keen to contribute to the war effort, was detailed. By the 14th day, most of us were sleepwalking. Fatigue was catching up. I took off at 1500 hrs, climbed on an easterly heading to 25,000 feet, set the autopilot, told the navigator to wake me up at Rajshahi and went to sleep. After a refreshing 30 minutes nap, I woke up to find our descent point completely overcast. We turned on dead reckoning and began a descent IMC. We broke cloud at 4,000 feet over Dacca city. We had drifted 30 nautical miles to the starboard. We turned northwards to home in to our target, and inadvertently flew over Tezgaon. I realized my mistake when bright orange streaks flashed by very close to the aircraft. We were in and out of cloud at 4,000 feet and black
puffs of smoke seemed to appear all around us. There was a big black cloud of smoke ahead which reduced the visibility further. We thought the previous raiders had hit a jackpot. We didn’t realize that one of our boys from Gorakhpur had gone down a few minutes ahead of us.
This fireworks display and crazy chatter on RT dumbfounded my navigator. His observation still rings in my ears ‘I say they are SHOOTING at us’. My response is unprintable. I had two aircraft behind me, and all of us were milling around over the airfield in and out of cloud! We decided to return the compliment at Tezgaon but in this excitement the navigator forgot to put the nose safety switch ON! We made a dummy pass. I told the boys behind me to step up while I turned reciprocal to clear my bombs in a second pass. The now familiar jerk of 8,000 lb HE leaving the aircraft was reassuring. I hope Gen Niazi got my calling card. I think he did.”
Between them, 16 and 35 Squadron dropped 87,000 lb of bombs on the Tezgaon and Dacca cantonment areas till ceasefire came into effect at 5 p.m.
On 15 December, the IAF flew 138 sorties in support of the army. In addition to the Dacca and Mainamati areas, Pakistan army positions in Daulatpur, Khulna and Sylhet were attacked by Gnats and Hunters, using guns, rockets and napalm. Sylhet was the focus of the Hunters and Gnats from Kumbhirgram; a total of sixteen sorties were flown. Two-thirds of the sorties were in the Dacca and IV Corps area.
INS VIKRANT VERSUS USS ENTERPRISE While there was no contribution by the air contingent of the INS Vikrant, the aircraft carrier planned to sail south and track the incoming US Seventh Fleet on the last day of operations:
INS Vikrant was on patrol north of Andaman Islands blocking the approaches to Chittagong when, on December 15th, late in the evening, the BBC announced the entry of the ‘Big-E’ task force in the Bay of Bengal. The broadcast added that the US task force was to make for Chittagong to evacuate the
stranded American citizens. This was a bolt from the blue. I conjured up a situation of a direct confrontation. I waited for instructions from the Naval Headquarters but none arrived. It was later at night that I decided to proceed south anyway, to intercept the ‘Big-E’ before she could enter the war zone. It was near midnight when the Midshipman on Watch approached me on the bridge and sought permission to ask a question. 1 nodded, and he said, “Sir, what would you do when you sight the Big-E?’ This question was no doubt uppermost on my mind, but without any hesitation I replied, ‘You do not have to worry, young man. America is a friendly country, so I would wish the captain of the “Big E” a good morning and ask him what I could do for him.’ The midshipman was not convinced and added, ‘What if the “Big-E” opened fire against us?’ I replied, ‘I have been educated in the Naval War College, and I understand the American psychology well. If the “Big-E” attacks us, Abraham Lincoln would be turning in his grave.
Throughout that night INS Vikrant continued her sortie south, and our air recce covered an area to a depth of 500 miles. There was no sign of the US task force, so in the absence of any instruction from the Naval Headquarters I turned back north to rejoin my patrol area. As the day dawned, BBC broadcast amplified its earlier report that having entered the Bay of Bengal from the Malacca Straits, the US task force had proceeded west instead of going north to Chittagong.?”
16 DECEMBER: THE CURTAIN FALLS On 15 December, Signal G0015 arrived at Dacca at 10.30 p.m. The signal was sent by the Chief of Staff at Pakistan Army HQ. It suggested the terms laid down by Manekshaw be accepted. In a face-saving attempt the signal stated Niazi’s decision would be a ‘purely local military decision’. In response, General Niazi called for a meeting of the commanders to announce the decision to surrender. The Naval C-in-C Rear Admiral Sharif and the AOC Eastern Command, Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq Khan were present at the meeting.
At the meeting, orders were passed that all military equipment

be destroyed or disabled. Lieutenant Colonel L.A. Bhukhari raised the possibility helicopters could be flown to Akyab in Burma at night, possibly evacuating women and children and VIPs. The night flight favoured Bhukhari’s plan. The only aircraft in the IAF’s inventory capable of a night interception using radar was the MiG-21, but with ceasefire in effect, there were no IAF aircraft patrolling the skies over East Pakistan. The MiGs would have no time to catch the helicopters even if Indian radar discovered the flights. The path between Dacca and Akyab would cross the Sea Hawks of INS Vikrant but the Sea Hawks did not have night interception capability.(Unknown to Bhukhari, the Vikrant had withdrawn and the threat of Sea Hawks intercepting them was non-existent.)
Bhukhari decided the helicopters dispersed in Dacca cantonment would take off from the golf course at 2.30 a.m to be in Akyab by 5.30 a.m. One of the three surviving Mi-8s had been damaged in the latest Canberra bombing; its rotor blade had buckled due to the bomb blasts. Bukhari’s crew worked overtime to repair the rotor blade and make it airworthy again. Of the three Alouettes Bukhari could use, one Alouette would remain in Dacca-with two pilots for an emergency.
News of the helicopters evacuating civilians ensured a near riot, with many frantically attempting to evacuate their families, but helicopter capacity was limited. The Mi-8s would have to carry internal fuel and thus could accommodate only sixteen passengers. Still, the Mi-8 pilots loaded the helicopters to double capacity. While the Mi-8s could fly in one stretch, the Alouettes were carrying fuel in jerry cans. Their flying time was about three and a half hours and they would have to refuel en route to Akyab.
That night, at 2.50 a.m., in pitch darkness without lights, the first Mi-8 piloted by Bhukhari and Major Riaz-ul-Haq took off. A few minutes later, the second Mi-8, piloted by Major M.K. Bajwa and Major Zahur Ahmed took off; it was followed by the third flown by Majors Khatak and Akram. The three Mi-8s were followed at five-minute intervals by two Alouettes, one from the army flown by Major N. Mahmood and the other from the PAF flown by Squadron Leader Sultan. A third Alouette, to be flown by Major Saghir and Major Anwar did not start; the pair waited for daylight to attempt repairs and their flight took place later.?? Finally three DHC-2 Beaver aircraft operated by the army took off. Using these eight aircraft, 123 personnel and civilians were evacuated from Dacca.
FINALIZING SURRENDER In the early hours of the morning, Pakistan Army HQ in the cast sent messages to all units to cease fire and hold for further orders. Since their radio equipment was destroyed or unusable, a message to the Indian Army was sent using the UN radio transmitter asking for an extension in the ceasefire and for an officer to be sent to Dacca to finalize the laying down of arms. This message reached Delhi minutes before the ceasefire was to expire. All IAR squadrons were told to stand down immediately thereafter.
At 9.15 a.m. General Manekshaw called the Indian Army Eastern Command HQ at Fort William and instructed the Chief of Staff, Major General J.E.R. Jacob, to fly to Dacca and meet General Niazi to finalize the surrender. Manekshaw indicated the event should formally take place later in the afternoon. A draft Instrument of Surrender had been prepared; Jacob would fly to Dacca in an IAF helicopter.
Jacob, Air Commodore Solomon Purushottam from Adv. HO, EAC, and Colonel M.S. Khera of Intelligence left in a Chetak helicopter. The team changed helicopters at Jessore and took off again for Dacca. The ceasefire was still holding. No IAF aircraft had raided Dacca since 5 p.m. on the previous day.
THE LAST HELICOPTER OUT OF DACCA As noon was approaching in Dacca, there was chaos in the city; the arrival of an Indian General to chalk out the surrender plans was inevitable.
The crew of the last Alouette stationed in Dacca, Major Mohammad Zareef Bangash and Major Tauhid-ul-Haq were manning the squadron command post when the pilots of the
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Alouette that had malfunctioned walked in. Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq berated the army pilots, telling them the Indian contingent would arrive any moment and that the army pilots should escape as soon as possible.25
The four pilots then drove to the golf course where the Alouettes were parked, loaded with additional fuel kept in the passenger compartment in jerry cans. The pilots started up and took off. Saghir and Masood Anwar took off first, followed by Bangash and Tauhid-ul-Hag. The crews lost sight of each other almost immediately; Bangash flew over Tezgaon where he could observe the reception party gathering to receive the Indian negotiation team.
Both helicopters flew for over an hour at low level, trying to avoid Indian fighters. They need not have worried; most IAF squadrons had stood down and were not flying combat air patrol sorties. The threat of Sea Hawk fighters from INS Vikrant had been eliminated when the Vikrant task force withdrew to replenish critical fuel reserves. The helicopters had a clear run ahead.
Both Alouettes made refuelling stops en route. Saghir and Anwar landed at a forest clearing just across the border from Burma and with the engine still running refuelled from the cans. Once done, they took off, hovered on a lake to jettison their uniforms, documents and personal weapons, and finally reached Akyab after an hour’s flying.? Bangash encountered some problems restarting their Alouette after their refuelling, but after several attempts, managed to relight the engine and take off. They then dumped their military paraphernalia en route and flew on to Akyab.
The Burmese authorities interned the helicopters and pilots at Akyab. They were moved to Meiktila air force base on 22 December, and then on to Rangoon. The women and children who had flown out on Mi-8s were repatriated on 26 December After a couple of weeks the aircrews were handed over to the Pakistani embassy in Rangoon, and arrived in West Pakistan on 16 January 1972. The Mi-8s and the Alouettes were shipped to Karachi after two months.
For the PAF, the escape of the PA aviation squadron and the PAF Alouettes was one of the few redeeming stories of a lost struggle.
GENERAL JACOB IN DACCA At 12.35 p.m., as Bangash and Tauhid’s Alouette was taking off from Dacca for Akyab, the Indian Army Alouette carrying Major General Jacob came in to land. General Jacob noticed the Pakistani helicopter flying away from Dacca but with more pressing issues at hand, paid little attention to it.
Jacob’s helicopter was tracked by the Pakistani AA guns till it landed. On landing, Jacob was met by his Pakistani counterpart Brigadier Baqar Siddiqui, Chief of Staff of the Pakistani Eastern Command. Some overseas correspondents and UN officials were also present. Air Commodore Purushottam set about finding PAR officers to make arrangements for the arrival of the main party later in the day. Jacob was driven to Niazi’s HQ to present the draft surrender document and finalize it. He arrived at 1p.m.
Prior to Jacob’s arrival, the first Indian troops in Dacca arrived. Led by Major General R.S. Nagra (101CZ Area) they entered Dacca at 10.45 a.m. Nagra sent a message for, and was received in, Niazi’s headquarters; he was waiting when Jacob arrived. Meanwhile, 4 Corps entered Dacca and deployed at the Ramna Race Course Grounds for security.
In his discussions with Jacob, Niazi was accompanied by Major General Farman Ali, Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq and the naval chief Rear Admiral Sharif. The Pakistanis objected to the word ‘surrender’ and insisted that they wanted a ‘ceasefire’. It soon became clear there would be no negotiations; Niazi had to accept the surrender proposal. After about an hour and a half of discussions, Niazi acquiesced to the draft document and initialled his acceptance. The Indian Army Eastern Command had to organize and execute the surrender ceremony in two hours. Arrangements were made in Calcutta for the final surrender ceremony even as haggling took place over the ceasefire document, The C-in-Cs of the respective commands, Lieutenant General J.S. Aurora, Air Marshal H.C. Dewan and Vice-Admiral N.
Krishnan met at Dum Dum airport at 2 p.m. to board an HS748 Avro. Admiral Krishnan was the C-in-C furthest away, en route by aircraft to fly to the Vikrant. But fortunately he was given two hours’ notice by the CNS about the impending ceremony and he was able to catch an Avro to Dum Dum.
The Avro carrying the C-in-Cs landed at Agartala where a fleet of helicopters-Mi-4s of 105, 110 and 111 HUs that had been engaged in the heli-borne operations over the Meghnaassembled to carry the Indian contingent to Tezgaon.
Flight Lieutenant Pushp Vaid, 110 HU’s flight commander, had returned from a sortie earlier in the day, evacuating casualties from the front line to a field hospital. He found Agartala abuzz with news of the impending surrender. Group Captain Chandan Singh told Vaid to organize helicopters to fly senior officers and a group of journalists to record the event.
The Mi-4s were collected and kept ready to fly to Tezgaon. Each Mi-4 was crewed with two pilots; an additional twelve pilots were in reserve at Agartala. Looking at the size of the Indian and Bangladeshi contingents, Chandan Singh told Vaid that pilots not needed to crew the Mi-4s would be left behind. Vaid ignored the instructions and took all the remaining pilots at Agartala along, reasoning that after spending two weeks risking their lives flying to their limits, they deserved to see the surrender ceremony.
Four Indian Army Alouettes carried the three Cs-in-C and Lieutenant General Sagat Singh, GOC of IV Corps, whose main HQ was at Agartala. Using Agartala as staging post for the Indian team proved favourable for IV Corps’ officers: Sagat Singh, his Divisional Commanders, B.F. Gonsalves, K.V. Krishna Rao and R.D. Hira were taken along to witness the ceremony.
The four Alouettes were followed by five Mi-4 helicopters from other helicopter units based at Agartala. These five helicopters carried-among others-Indian and international news correspondents and cameramen.
When the Cs-in-C arrived at Tezgaon, the huge craters on the runway made the punishment meted out to the airport all too evident. The Indian contingent landed at 4.15 p.m. and General

Aurora was quickly driven to the Race Course grounds for the surrender ceremony. Air Marshal Dewan and Vice-Admiral Krishnan followed.
The Bangladesh contingent was represented by Group Captain A.K. Khandoker, the vice chief of the Bangladesh forces. When the news of the impending surrender broke, he was in Calcutta at HQ and was deputed to the delegation in a hurry. Colonel M.A.G. Osmany had gone to Sylhet and was not in immediate contact with the Eastern Command HQ. Ironically Osmany had been in contact with Major General Krishna Rao, GOC 8 Division and his helicopter had attempted to land at Sylhet under the mistaken impression it was under Indian control. Unsurprisingly, it was shot up by the Pakistanis.” Afterwards the helicopter was flown to 8 Division HQ. However IV Corps HQ failed to inform Krishna Rao of the purpose of his urgent recall to Agartala and Osmany was left out of the historic occasion.
The reception afforded to the surrender party was tumultuous:
When we landed at Dacca, there were so many cars waiting to take us to the ground where the ceremony was going to take place. En route, we saw so many Bangladeshi people waving and smiling at us. It was like the movies when the Americans went into Paris. It was a great feeling. There were so many people there with guns and they were firing in the air in excitement. My memory is very hazy, all I remember is that we had a great time and we felt like VIPs,20
The Instrument of Surrender was signed at 4.55 p.m. at the Race Course grounds.The entire event lasted fifteen minutes. The IAF was represented by Air Marshal Dewan, his Air 1 Group Captain S.K. Mehra and Group Captain Chandan Singh.
After the signing, Air Marshal Dewan asked the General why he had surrendered though he had the troops to hold out longer. Niazi, pointing to the pilot wings on Group Captain Chandan Singh’s chest, said, ‘This has hastened the surrender. I and my people have had no rest during day or night, thanks to your Air Force. We have changed our quarters ever so often, trying to find a safe place for a little rest and sleep so that we could carry on the fight, but we have been unable to do that.’
After 2,000 offensive sorties, the IAF’s Lightning Campaign had ended.
NOTES 1. It is rather unlikely that Niazi, who hardly left Dacca and never
visited the frontlines during the war, was in the aircraft; in any case,
Niazi usually flew using Pakistan Army Aviation Allouette IIIs. 2. Mally Wollen’s interview with author.
3. Bala, Wing Commander M.L., ‘Electronic Warfare-the
Untold Story of 1971′, http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/
History/1971 War/1109-MLBala.html 4. Ibid. Though Bala writes that he got the intercept message at 10.45
a.m., it is clear that he must have received the intercept earlier in the day. Corporal B.P. Singh’s VSM Citation is a good example of the deliberately vague and unclear citations written for classified
actions of the day. 5. Interview with Air Chief Marshal S.K. Kaul. 6. Kelly, John, ‘Three Days in Dacca 1971’, Bangladesh Documents, 8
March 1972, pp. 649-655. Mortuza, Shamshad, ‘An Important Footnote in our History, Star Weekend Magazine, 15 December 2006, http://www.thedailystar.
net/magazine/2006/12/03/cover.htm 8. Interview with Air Commodore K.B. Menon. 9. Young, Gavin, Worlds Apart: Travels in War and Peace, London:
Hutchinson, 1987, p. 51. 10. Interview with AVM B.K. Bishnoi. 11. Interview with Air Marshal M.S.D. Wollen. 12. Signal No. G-0013 Dated 14 December 1971 (HRC Report). 13. This however is not confirmed from the Indian side. 14. Telegram From the Consulate General in Dacca to the Department
of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969-1976 Volume XI, South Asia Crisis, 1971, Document 300, http://history.state.
gov/historicaldocuments/frus 1969-76v11/d300 15. Interview with Air Vice Marshal B.K. Bishnoi. 16. Interview with Air Chief Marshal S.K. Kaul. 17. Young, Gavin, Worlds Apart: Travels in War and Peace, London:
Hutchinson, 1987, p. 2. 18. Interview with Group Captain K.K. Dutta. 19. Ghosh, Anil (WgCdr), Night Intruder (Bharat-Rakshak), http://
www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1971 War/Canberra.html 20. Interview with Captain Swaraj Prakash, IN. 21. Signal G0015 sent at 10.30 p.m. by CoS to Niazi (HRC Report). 22. Brigadier Liaqat Bokhari, ‘Army Aviation Squadron: The unit
that did not surrender’, Jang Newspaper; 17 December 2004, http://www.jang.com.pk/thenews/dec2004-daily/17-12-2004/
oped/04.htm 23. Brig (Retd) Sher Khan, ‘Last Flight from East Pakistan’, Defence

Journal, Feb 2001 http://www.defencejournal.com/2001/feb/last
flight.htm 24. http://www.nation.com.pk/daily/dec-2004/16/nationalnews.
php 25. Osmany, along with his chief of staff were being flown in an Mi-4 to
Sylhet in late afternoon of 16 December. Osmany’s birthplace was in Sylhet and there may have been a symbolic reason in flying him to Sylhet, anticipating its fall. The helicopter was hit by ground fire and one of the engine oil pipes was hit leading to a drop in oil pressure. The pilot Flight Lieutenant Ravindra Vikram Singh showed commendable judgement and flew the aircraft out of hostile
area and landed it at Fenchuganj. 26. Interview with Squadron Leader P.K. Vaid. 27. Lt Gen. J.E.R. Jacob, Surrender at Dacca: Birth of a Nation, New
Delhi: Manohar Books, 1997.
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TEN
The Aftermath
As darkness fell on 16 December, and as operations wound down across IAF airfields in the east, the IAF and PAF commandersin-chief returned to base after witnessing the celebrations at Dacca’s Ramna Maidan. Lieutenant General Aurora carried General Niazi’s pistol and a copy of the Instrument of Surrender. Vice-Admiral Krishnan, the Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief Eastern Naval Command, had relieved the senior officer of the Pakistani Navy in the east, Rear Admiral Sharif, of his pistol. Air Marshal Dewan, the IAF Commander in the east, an unassuming man, made little fuss, attended the ceremony, spoke briefly with Niazi and Inam-ul-Haq, and left for headquarters.
Dewan stopped to spend the night at Gauhati, intending to go to EAC HQ at Shillong the next day. Wing Commander B.K. Bishnoi, aware the C-in-C was at base, decided to call on him after securing permission from Group Captain Mankotia, the station commander. Bishnoi told Mankotia his squadron’s younger pilots, after fourteen days of battle, were looking forward to swapping tales with the top brass that had ordered them into battle. Mankotia gave permission. Bishnoi and several pilots made their way to the VIP cottage, and knocked at the door clad in their grimy flying overalls (their originals still in Tezpur, they had no change of uniforms at Gauhati). They were received by a staff officer, who after casting a few sceptical glances their way, invited them inside to wait. Dewan had just finished his dinner when he was told about the visitors. Dewan pulled out a bottle of Scotch from his briefcase; he had been carrying around a few for morale-boosting icebreakers at the IAF bases he had visited. As the pilots had a drink and chatted with Dewan, an emboldened Bishnoi said, ‘Sir, we’ve done so much flying over Dacca; we’d like to go and see on the ground what we have done.’ Dewan agreed, summoned his staff officer and gave him instructions.
The next morning, several pilots from 28 and 4 Squadrons boarded a Caribou from 33 Squadron to fly from Gauhati to Agartala.’ On arriving, they boarded IAF Mi-4s shuttling between Agartala and Dacca. As the helicopters came over Dacca, Bishnoi had his 35 mm camera ready and clicked away at the sights below. The IAF helicopters landed amongst milling crowds on a craterridden runway at Tezgaon. After landing, a Russian embassy staffer approached Bishnoi and asked him if they were amongst the pilots who attacked Dacca, and on receiving an affirmative reply, asked what type of aircraft they were flying. When told they were flying MiG-21s, more questions followed: were special gunsights used on the MiG-21s? Bishnoi’s new-found friend was clearly surprised by the accuracy of the IAF’s runway bombing. Bishnoi shrugged off the questioning with a laconic, ‘We were using exactly what you provided us; you are from the Russian Embassy; you know what you gave us.’
Tezgaon’s visitors included Group Captains Mally Wollen and V.C. Mankotia from Gauhati. Wollen, who had engaged in a battle of wits with his counterpart in operational command, visited the operations room to gauge the PAF’s conduct of operations; its briefing boards still listed the details of the last sortie of the PAF Sabres on 6 December. There were no PAF officers present, but PAF airmen were, one of whom asked Wollen if he was an AngloIndian. Before a surprised Wollen could reply, the airman, saying, ‘We can tell by your eyes,’ pointed to the Squadron Commander’s board, which listed Anglo-Indian commanders over the years.?
Without further prodding, the airman continued talking about the PAF’s conduct of operations, its tactics, and most intriguingly, the location of the AR-1 radar, on which the IAF had mounted a series of raids without ever being able to confirm they had found it. To say that Wollen was keen to inspect the radar location would be a severe understatement. On his way to Mirpur Zoo to see the AR-1 radar, Wollen marvelled at the discipline of Dacca’s residents; there was no chaos, looting, or price gouging. Reaching the zoo, Wollen finally saw the cleverly camouflaged radar, ‘That wretched thing, which was the cause of so much trouble!
Meanwhile, at the airfield, the pilots from Gauhati were conducting their own inspection. An army liaison officer requisitioned some transport for their use, and the pilots inspected the huge craters on the runway and the terminal building. The devastation caused by the bombs was a sight to behold. The runway, with craters ‘twenty feet deep and forty feet wide’ had giant piles of debris that resembled ‘Rajasthani sand dunes!!
The runway craters became the background for many photographs taken that day. The IAF pilots then drove to the dispersal pens where several disabled F-86 Sabres were parked. The armed Pakistani guards on duty did not stop the IAF pilots from examining the aircraft. While Bishnoi took photographs, Dadoo Subaiya climbed into the cockpit and checked out the controls. One pilot took a survival pack as a souvenir.
Several Sabres were parked under trees. Flying Officer Sunith Soares noticed most were beautifully camouflaged. Incredibly, none of the napalm damage on the base had hit the Sabres.
Bishnoi’s group was approached by a Bengali youngster, who suggested he drive the pilots around in his Volkswagen Beetle. Bishnoi, Behal and a couple of others piled in and set off. They went to the Governor’s House and surveyed the devastation caused by the rocket attacks on 14 December. Their souvenir hunting netted them two plaques mounted outside the Governor’s Office.
At the end of the trip, the young man suggested they visit his parents’ home in Dacca. Bishnoi and Behal agreed and were
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driven through Dacca’s roads, still littered with dead bodies. The youngster’s large house’s doors and windows were nailed and boarded up. His parents were afraid of the IAF pilots, fearing them to be Pakistani soldiers. After being convinced of their identity, the pilots were invited in and told stories of trials and tribulations over the past nine months. After tea, the youngster dropped them back at Tezgaon airfield where Bishnoi was chastised for his outing’: what was he doing going off on his own in a city not yet under formal Indian control? But MiG pilots were clearly impervious to such considerations. Indeed, the day after the fighting ended, IAF pilots freely roamed around parts of Dacca its previous occupiers would not have dared venture into:

‘We were going around Dacca shops buying chocolates, wearing our overalls with their flying badges. That it was a dangerous place never crossed our minds!
The first fixed wing aircraft of the ‘Allied Forces’, the DHC-3 Otter of the Kilo Flight, flown by Flying Officer Shamsul Alam, landed at Tezgaon airfield on 17 December. As a goodwill gesture, IAF Air HQ mandated Kilo Flight aircraft would be the first fixed wing aircraft to visit Tezgaon (before regular flights by IAP Caribous). The fact that the Otter was the only aircraft other than the Caribou that could negotiate the craters at Tezgaon helped. Shamsul’s arrival was recorded by the local press; a photograph of him beaming by the Otter’s tail, proudly sporting the Bangladeshi flag, appeared in the next day’s newspapers.
THE POWS ARE LIBERATED While millions of Bengalis were celebrating the end of Pakistani occupation, for two IAF pilots in Pakistani captivity the war would go on for one more day. As crowds thronged the Ramna grounds on 16 December, Pakistani guards were keeping guard over the two IAF POWs: Squadron Leader Bhutani and Flight Lieutenant Tremenhere. Late in the evening a Pakistani officer visited Bhutani, congratulating him on India winning the war and engaging in small talk. An amused Bhutani remembered the same officer, a few days earlier, threatening him while proudly insisting on his ignorance of the Geneva Convention. He then left, leaving the door open. One of the guards carried a bed in. Bhutani was joined by Kenneth Tremenhere, who had been kept in one of the safety operator huts on the airfield.
On the morning of 17 December, an Indian Army officer, Colonel Himmat Singh had Bhutani and Tremenhere flown to Agartala by helicopter. By midday, both were in Gauhati. There, they sent telegrams to their families and friends. On 18 December they were flown to Delhi for debriefing.
Kenneth Tremenhere’s colleagues in Kalaikunda, including his course-mate, Flying Officer Soares, eagerly awaited his return:
We were very concerned about prisoners, especially] Kenny Tremenhere, my course mate. When we realized he was safe, we were very happy. He was flown off straight to Delhi. We were supposed to have a bang up celebration for New Year’s. We kept telling) Air HQ: please send him back, please send him back. We don’t want to have any celebrations without Kenny. So they said he will be there on the 31st. He came on 31st afternoon. We asked him how it was. He said, forget it, forget it and started his bike and went to town, because he was the hero now of KKD. He was off to town in five minutes. We had a lovely New Year celebration, great one.
Bhutani’s return to his family was quicker. He flew to Bareilly from Delhi and was reunited with his wife and daughter. 221 Squadron had moved to Amritsar towards the end of operations, and was there when Bhutani returned to Bareilly. The peculiarity of his return ‘home’ before the squadron was not lost on them.
BRAVO JULIET The IAF’s efforts in the east had a tragic postscript. The day after the surrender, on 17 December, a lone Dakota, ‘Bravo-Juliet’ BJ622, took off from Mohanbari for a supply-dropping mission to Monigeng and Mechuka. Its pilot, Flying Officer Joaquim D’Souza of Bombay, and co-pilot, Flying Officer Satyabrata Nandi, were accompanied by Pilot Officer R.B. Umralkar, the navigator, commissioned six months earlier, Flight Lieutenant P.S. Murali of Madras, assigned to No. 5 Air Force Hospital, and Sergeant Himanshu Thakur as flight signaller. Bravo Juliet was to carry out supply dropping by parachute, aided by a five-man crew working in the rear of the aircraft.
The aircraft took off in the early hours of the afternoon, and at approximately 1.30 p.m., De Souza entered a blind valley eight miles from Mechuka, flanked by towering mountains. The Dakota had little chance of climbing out and crashed into the mountainside killing all aboard. The five IAF men and the five army personnel were the last casualties of the war in eastern sector air operations.
DACCA AIRPORT OPENS FOR BUSINESS
Initial fixed wing operations out of Dacca were carried out by 33 Squadron starting on 20 December when a Caribou airlifted senior Pakistani POWs, including Lieutenant General Niazi, Rear Admiral Sharif, and Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq to Fort William in Calcutta. On 22 December, Flight Licutenants R.K. Bishnoi and Delinder Kohli flew in the interim Bangladesh PM and Cabinet in exile to Tezgaon for a rousing reception. The IAF flew its Caribous on dozens of flights into and out of Tezgaon over the next few days.
Dacca was administered by IV Corps with Lieutenant General Sagat Singh as military administrator. Sagat Singh assigned the task of re-opening Dacca airport to Brigadier Jagdev Singh, his corps engineering officer, and his team. He would be assisted by the Pakistan Army Eastern Command chief engineer, Brigadier Sharief, and his staff.
Lieutenant General Sagat Singh wanted the airfield commissioned by 25 December, when a planeload of relief supplies was to be flown in by the Dutch government. The Pakistani Brigadier was sceptical; he told Brigadier Jagdev Singh that the Pakistan Army had tried repairing the runway on 7 December and been frequently interrupted by the MiG’s bombing raids. Brigadier Jagdev Singh took Sharief to Tezgaon and met with the civilian executive engineer who informed him earth moving machines were available but no operators were. In response, Brigadier Jagdev Singh had Indian sappers rushed in to operate the machinery. Hundreds of local labourers were recruited for repairs with hundreds waiting in the wings.
Belying his Pakistani counterpart’s predictions, Brigadier Jagdev Singh was able to get the runway patched and cleaned by 24 December. All existing craters were filled and paved over and the runway declared open on Christmas Day. It had taken seven days and the combined efforts of the Indian and Pakistan armies with the Bengali populace to undo the damage done by the MiG2 1s to the runway.

A SLOPPY FINISH

The PAF CAS, Air Marshal Rahim Khan had spoken with Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq, AOC Dacca, on 16 December, and after congratulating his men on a battle well fought, ordered the destruction of the remaining F-86 Sabres to prevent their falling into Indian or Bangladeshi hands.
But this denial plan was not carried out. Instead, the PAF disabled the Sabres with small-arms fire and cut their electrical wires, leaving most aircraft intact. The PAF officers were influenced by the Pakistan Army decision to not carry out any large-scale destruction of equipment in Dacca that could invite the ire of the Bangladeshis. Niazi himself had, at a meeting the previous day, urged his officers to use hammers and axes instead of explosives. Inam-ul-Haq assumed this included the aircraft stored at Tezgaon. The PAF officers carried out the disablement on 15 December, shortly after Niazi discussed the surrender with HQ.
Haq later testified to the Hameed-ur-Rahman commission the PAF’s aircraft were damaged beyond repair and that it was unlikely the Bengalis recovered any. His deputy Group Captain Majid disagreed, and suggested three or four aircraft were recovered, an accurate assessment as the fledgling Bangladesh Air Force put five Sabres into service after the war. The first of these, repaired by ex-PAF Bengali airmen, took to the skies in March 1972. The Sabres were used for a couple of years after which they were retired and replaced by newly procured MiG-21Ms from the USSR. Two of these Sabres have been preserved: one at the former Tezgaon airfield, the other at Chittagong airfield.
The HRC report castigated the PAF AOC for not carrying out the destruction of the Sabres the day the pilots were flown out of East Pakistan on 9 December. However the war had not then reached a decisive point and the PAF still hoped it would end in a ceasefire as late as 14 December. It was Manekshaw’s ultimatum on 15 December that made it clear nothing less than surrender was acceptable.
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As part of the denial plan, Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq ordered the destruction of the airfield oil dump but then changed his mind and withdrew his orders. The oil dump was left untouched. Amongst the war booty at the airfield were the anti-aircraft guns operated by the 6th LAA regiment. The CO, Lieutenant Colonel Mohammad Afzal, wanted to destroy the guns on 15 December, but was told by Niazi to retain them in working condition in case they were needed the day after.
While surrender details were worked out, Niazi ordered the cessation of all destruction of equipment. Lieutenant Colonel Afzal instructed the gunsights to be destroyed, but the guns were left intact. Though Afzal was confident the guns could not be put in service, the HRC report concluded the guns, Chinese copies of Russian quads, could be salvaged if fitted with Russian gun sights procured by India. The IAF retained two guns as war trophies; these are proudly displayed at the TAF Museum in Palam, New Delhi. The remaining guns were left to the Bangladesh Army.
FINAL TALLIES A total of 92,808 Pakistanis, including 12,000 civilians and 838 PAF personnel, were taken prisoner by the Indian Army. The Pakistan Army lost sixty-three M-24 Chaffee tanks, 108 artillery guns, forty-seven AA guns and many tons of equipment. The Pakistani Navy and the Inland Water Transport Authority (IWTA) lost three patrol craft, twenty improvised gunboats and two landing craft. The IWTA lost an unspecified number of boats. The PAF started the war with sixteen F-86 Sabres, two Alouettes and two T-33 Trainers. Five Sabres were shot down in air combat on 22 November and 4 December; the rest were immobilized by the PAF before surrender. Two civilian Pilatus Porters and the PIA De Havilland Twin Otter were destroyed on the ground; Indian damage investigation teams found an aircraft of unknown type gutted in a blast pen.
Some civilian aircraft owned by the West Pakistani government were transferred to the Bangladesh Civil Registry after the war: these included a Hiller helicopter of the Pakistan Army,five DHC-2 Beavers of the Plant Protection Department, a Piaggio P136 Amphibian of the East Pakistan Government, four Grumman Goose/Widgeon amphibian planes and five Cessna light aircraft. While a few of these aircraft were not serviceable, it is unclear why the rest were not commandeered for evacuation from Dacca as well. One explanation could be the lack of qualified pilots, especially those with amphibian training. The Pakistan Army’s Hiller helicopter was taken over by the newly constituted Bangladesh Army but the Beavers and other aircraft were retained by the interim Bengali administration.
Additionally, an unserviceable Alouette III was left behind by the PAF; its whereabouts and fate remain unknown. The possibility of the Alouette entering service with the Bangladesh Air Force cannot be ruled out.
The PIA Twin Otter, four Plant Protection Department Beavers, and the seven helicopters of the PA and PAF made the last minute flight to Burma and then back to Pakistan after a few weeks. The PNS Rajshabi, a Pakistani gunboat, escaped to Akyab; the only bright spot in the Pakistani Navy’s record in the eastern sector.
IAF OPERATIONS ANALYSIS The Indian Air Force lost eighteen aircraft, including the Dakota on 17 December during the course of operations in the castern sector of the 1971 war. Of these, twelve-eight Hunters, two MiG-21s, and a single Sukhoi-7 and Canberra-were combat related, the rest-four Hunters, one Mi-4 and the Dakota were non-combat related.
Eleven officers-eight pilots, two navigators and a doctorand an airman were lost in action. Three officers went missing or were taken POW; all were rescued or accounted for after hostilities. The strikes on Dacca accounted for more than half of the IAF’s combat losses; five aircraft on day one, and three aircraft afterwards. For the IAF, numerous ‘close shaves’ resulted in damaged aircraft, while several would-be close shaves were transformed into losses. In particular, Dopey Rao could have landed his MiG-21 safely at Gauhati had there been an additional MiG shepherding him.
While the IAF had been able to prevent the PAF operating from Dacca, its initial objective of shooting the PAF out of the Dacca skies remained unfulfilled. On the first day, IAF pilots claimed eight Sabres, including three destroyed on the ground. Of the five air-to-air combat kills claimed, only three were confirmed. One claim was not made by the pilot, but thrust on him based on intelligence reports subsequently proved wrong. Additionally the IAF claimed, in support of ground operations, the destruction of 235 watercraft, 124 road vehicles and 113 bunkers. Various strategic targets including airfields, factories, and railway stations were also attacked.
On 4 December, the IAF had expected the PAF to engage in air combat. But the PAF only responded sporadically; it was virtually absent over Dacca skies after 9 a.m. in the morning till the afternoon when Sundaresan’s formation was intercepted by Dilawar Hussain’s. Many IAF pilots loitered over Tezgaon not knowing what to do with their weapon loads, mostly because the airfield presented few visible targets and because of restrictions on attacking anything not of military value like the terminal building or civilian hangars. The PAF’s dispersal and camouflage and judicious use of mock-ups kept diverting IAF fighters in many crucial raids. Only after the first day of operations did it dawn on the IAF that bombs should be used against Tezgaon instead of rockets.
Of the weapon systems the Indian Air Force deployed it was most pleased with the performance of the MiG-21. The IAF had an average availability of 28 MiG-21s throughout the war; between them, 626 sorties were flown in the fourteen days of operations, well above the planned effort of 400 sorties. The MiG attrition rate was about 0.33 per cent; only two aircraft were lost. They were used to drop 303,600 lbs of M62 bombs and fire over 8,000 unguided 57 mm rockets. This expenditure of bombs and rockets was eight to ten times that originally planned. During the war, MiG serviceability remained close to 90 per
cent. The effectiveness of the MiG in ground attack missions was a revelation for the IAE Prior to the war, the MiG-21 was intended to be used primarily for air defence with ground attack running a distant second. This distribution underwent a change after the war.
Only the Hawker Hunter flew more sorties than the MiG-21s. Three squadrons (and another partially present squadron) flew 718 sorties. This was about 10 per cent higher than the planned sorties. The twelve aircraft lost brought the Hunter’s attrition rate to 1.7 per cent, the highest among the various types. The Hunters were used to drop 86,000 lbs of bombs and fire 2,237 T-10 rockets. The Hunters also dropped 229 napalm bombs of dubious effectiveness. The greatest contributions by the Hunters were the over one lakh 30 mm cannon shells fired against various targets on the ground and in the air.
The lone Sukhoi squadron flew operations from 4 to 12 December during which period 180 sorties were flown with one aircraft being lost, representing an attrition rate of less than 0.4 per cent. 121,000 lbs of bombs, and 1,645 rockets were expended while nearly 7,300 front gun rounds were used against ground targets. In all these categories, the Sukhoi’s ordnance was underutilized, perhaps signifying a lack of targets in the II Corps area.
In comparing the Russian M62 500-kg bombs used by the MiGs and the Sukhois and the 1,000-1b Mk.9 bombs of indigenous make used by the Hunters, the effectiveness of the Russian weaponry against runways is striking; it far outstripped the impact of the 1,000-pounders. The IAF made special note of their use for runway denial in its operational plans for the future. Against Tezgaon’s runway, forty-six direct hits were scored; some craters were fifty-six feet wide and ten feet deep depending on the thickness of the concrete. This compared favourably to the three-feet-deep craters created by the 1,000lb bombs at Barisal airfield.
The three Gnat Squadrons with EAC had to quickly transition from air defence to close air support as the war progressed. Four hundred and fifty-seven sorties were flown, two-thirds of them on offensive sweep and close air support. No Gnats were lost. The Gnats fired 671 T-10 rockets and 15,000 rounds of ammunition on these sorties.
The Canberras of 16 and 35 Squadrons undertook 53 sorties. A total of 300,000 pounds of bombs were dropped against multiple targets throughout the front. Their efforts were augmented by Caribou and Antonov-12 raids which dropped another 150,000 pounds of bombs on their night missions. These attacks by the Canberras, Caribous and An-12s were largely ineffective and their sole value, if any, consisted in mere harassment.
For the operations on the eastern front, the pilots of Eastern and Central Commands were awarded two Mahavir Chakras, twenty-six Vir Chakras (including two bars to the Vir Chakra) and eighteen Vayu Sena Medals. The Maha Vir Chakra awards went to Group Captain Chandan Singh and Wing Commander S.K. Kaul. A third MVC was given to Wing Commander Padmanabha Gautam, but he was more active on the western front than the eastern front. Vir Chakras were awarded to four more COSSundaresan, Narinder Chatrath, Man Mohan Singh and B.K. Bishnoi. Hunter pilots bagged the most Vir Chakras. Notably, six of the twenty-six Vir Chakras went to helicopter pilots and those of the Kilo Flight and Aviation Research Centre. Given the sorties flown and the results achieved, these awards comprised a very modest number.
THE PAKISTANI VIEWPOINT The mere presence of PAF aircraft at Dacca was reason enough for the IAF to devote many sorties for counter air missions directed at Dacca and ancillary airfields in East Pakistan. Nearly 30 per cent of the more than 2,000 sorties undertaken by the combat squadrons in the east were either air defence or counter air. Eighty per cent of the sorties on the first day and 50 per cent on the second day addressed the PAF’s ‘threat.’ But in the sixty hours the Sabres lasted in operations, they mounted only thirty sorties.
PAF Sabres accounted for two IAF aircraft, the Hunters flown
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by K.D. Mehra and Tremenhere. The PAF Sabres’ chief utility lay in acting as bait so that AA fire could claim more IAF aircraft, which it did, and in preventing the IAF from fully supporting the Indian army operations for the first day and thereafter diverting a significant effort in daily counter air missions to Tezgaon.
The IAF might have shortened the war had it been able to knock out the Sabres on the first day. But the IAF still managed to divert its attention to ground support from the second day even though the Sabres were still effective. Had the IAF knocked the Sabres out on the first day it would have released some squadrons for the western front earlier than 6 December. Their impact on that theatre of operations would have only been marginally greater had they been moved a day earlier. The IAF generally had aircraft to spare; towards the end of operations, utilization of IAF aircraft fell below their potential.
The PAF could have prolonged the war by stationing another squadron of aircraft, retaining the original P-30 radar, and activating the Kurmitola airfield. It would have made the IAF’s tasks more difficult, as it would have had to devote more resources to tackle air opposition, thus denying vital close air support to the Army. The war could thus have been prolonged and turned bloodier; United Nations deliberations would have ensured a ceasefire and a face-saving solution for Pakistan. But Pakistani war gamers had put too much credence in their ludicrous doctrine of ‘The Defence of the East lies in the West’. The PAF planned the war expecting its squadron and operations would not last more than twenty-four hours from the commencement of full-scale hostilities. The PAF in the west would then support a Pakistan army offensive to set right the imbalances on the east.
Unfortunately for the PAF, the ‘western offensive’ plan of the army was a sham as the Pakistan Army lost its nerve. The PAF’s Mirage III PR sorties confirmed an Indian Armed Division was in Ferozepur on standby and would swing into operation the moment the Pakistani offensive was launched. Unsurprisingly, when Air Marshal Rahim Khan’s advice was solicited by Niazi on the night of 14 December, in light of the signal from the Pakistan Army GHQ on ceasefire, Rahim Khan advised Niazi to accept the president’s order. The PAF’s faith in the Pakistan Army’s western offensive had disappeared. The PAF’s bad planning thus allowed the acceptance of a single squadron in the cast and its reliance on the ‘western offensive’ to change the outcome of the war. It was a decision that would have repercussions-in terins of the relationship between the two services–for years after the war.
The PAF also committed the cardinal error of underestimating its opponents; it did not expect the IAF’s steep glide bombing to be so effective. The PAF had unsuccessfully attempted low level high-speed bombing runs in the west, and perhaps assumed the IAF would not be able to pull them off either. Of course, the IAF itself was forced to adopt this strategy thanks to its failure to destroy Sabres with rockets or by air combat. However, the IAF squadrons quickly adapted themselves: steep glide bombing was quickly proposed after the first day’s failure to destroy PAF Sabres on the ground. For that, credit should go to Group Captain Wollen and ‘his’ squadrons, No. 4 and No. 28.
The PAF’s 14 Squadron was reconstituted in May 1972. The pilots who were evacuated to Burma had reached Sargodba in carly 1972. The squadron was re-formed on the F-6. The unit received the highest number of gallantry awards in the PAF for the 1971 war, with five of the twenty Sitara-e-Jur’at medals going to it. However, most junior pilots viewed the CO Afzal Chaudhary as having lost his nerve during operations. Within weeks of the unit being re-raised Chaudhary asked his station commander, Group Captain Sajjad Haider, that he be posted out; his request was granted.” The squadron would re-equip with F-16s for a short while in the 1980s before converting to the Shenyang F-7 (the Chinese copy of the MiG-21).
AFTER THE WAR: THE BANGLADESH AIR FORCE The Kilo Flight emerged from the war as heroes and several officers received gallantry awards. The Bangladeshi awards consist of four tiers: the Bir Shreshto award occupies the top slot, followed by the Bir Uttam, Bir Bikram and Bir Protik. The Bir Shreshto was awarded posthumously to Flight Lieutenant Mati-ur-Rahman for his attempt to commandeer the T-33 from Karachi in August 1971. Ten Bir Uttam awards were given, six going to the Kilo Flight, split equally between the civilian and military pilots. The other four awardees included Group Captain Khandoker and Wing Commander M.K. Bashar, the top senior officers involved in the struggle. Sixteen Bir Bikram awards were made, including three to the civilian pilots of the Kilo Flight. One of the awards went to Squadron Leader Sadruddin, one of the subsector commanders in the ground operations.
Khandoker took over the reins of the newly formed BAF and served for years, attaining the rank of Air Vice-Marshal. Bashar and Sultan Ahmed followed him as chiefs of air staff for the BAF.
There was some volatility for the BAF once ‘repatriates’ from Pakistan returned to service. For officers who were stranded, like Flight Lieutenant Shaukat Islam, the former POW from the 1965 war, it was an easy decision to return to Bangladesh. But 1965 war hero Squadron Leader Saif-ul-Azam, or Group Captain M.I. Shaukat, or Wing Commander Humayun Kabir, who spent years in Pakistani internment camps returned to a free Bangladesh to find erstwhile juniors had overtaken them in seniority with the BAE. For a junior officer like Saif-ul-Azam, it was easy to be reintegrated into the BAF; for seniors like Kabir or M.I. Shaukat, retirement was a better choice. Many in the BAF felt Mukti Bahini veterans rose faster than the ex-internees. This period of turmoil continued for a while, all of which should make for a fascinating history.
The first task for the Bangladesh Air Force was to build a credible force from the ruins of Tezgaon. The Pakistan Air Force had left several Sabres in damaged and disabled condition at Tezgaon. Most operating manuals and technical documentation had been discarded. But the Kilo Flight had several airmen who had worked on F-86 Sabres and so Khandoker formed a team to resurrect the aircraft. The technicians took this up as a challenge and struggled mightily to restore the airworthiness of the Sabres. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was repatriated in February 1972 from Pakistan and became president of the new-born country, which chose to commemorate Mujib’s declaration of independence as ‘Independence Day’. The first year anniversary of that day was over the horizon.
For the team working on the grounded Sabres at Tezgaon, that date became a rallying point. On 26 March 1972 a grand parade at the Race Course grounds was inspected by Mujibur Rahman. The newly constituted Bangladesh Army marched past, displaying Chaffee tanks under new management. Towards the end of the parade, all eyes turned to the sky as three jets-alone T-33 flanked by two F-86 Sabres-swooped down, the first public appearance of the newly constituted BAF.
The BAF resurrected at least eight of the thirteen disabled aircraft left behind by 14 Squadron. A blurry news photograph shows eight aircraft, in newly applied BAF colours; these likely included seven Sabres and one T-33. These were the mainstay of the BAF till MiG-21s supplied from the USSR were inducted after a couple of years.
The initial years of the BAF were stable under the command of Khandoker. Relationships with the IAF were cordial and

friendly, for Khandoker had not forgotten the IAF’s generosity and support. The IAF, in turn, generously helped the BAF in its initial years: a number of Alouette III helicopters were transferred to the BAF.
However IAF-BAF relations were soon affected by the tumultuous political storms that were to engulf Bangladesh. In August 1975, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was assassinated by a group of army officers and an interim government set up. Khandoker retired as the air chief and was replaced by Air ViceMarshal M.G. Tawab in October 1976. Tawab, who till then had been residing in Germany, was fiercely pro-Pakistan, and disliked dealing with the IAE IAF-BAF relations deteriorated while he was chief. Tawab did not last long; after seven months as chief, he was ousted by Lieutenant General Zia-ur-Rahman, who preempted a coup attempt by Tawab and sent him back to Germany. Air Vice-Marshal Khandamul Bashar, a sector commander during the 1971 war succeeded Tawab, but less than six months later was killed in an air crash.
In October 1977, a coup was organized by radicals among the BAF ranks. In the initial uprising, eleven BAF officers, then negotiating an unrelated Japanese Airlines hijacking episode at

the International Airport, were murdered by ground crew. The coup did not succeed but the subsequent execution by Rahman’s regime of hundreds of airmen and officers who had revolted, set back the BAF for years.
In the 1980s the BAF established relationships with the Chinese and Pakistan Air Forces as the bulk of its equipment came from China and Pakistan. The relationship with the PAF improved after the repatriation of the remains of Flight Lieutenant Matiur-Rahman from Karachi to Bangladesh. Cordial relationships existed with the IAF with frequent exchanges of officers to staff college courses. In 2001, the IAF Chief of Staff, Air Chief Marshal Tipnis visited Dhaka, where he presented the BAF with the papers for a MiG-21 FL, a Hunter and an Ajeet. These airframes were shipped to Bangladesh Museum, sharing the same space as one of their adversaries: an F-86 Sabre left behind by the PAF, and repaired by the Bengalis.
The place of pride at the museum goes to an unglamorous propeller-powered, single-engined DHC-3 Otter, painted in drab olive green with a Bangladeshi flag on the tail, almost identical to an Otter that in the early hours of 4 December 1971 had fired the opening shots of the greatest air battle over Bengali skies. 15
NOTES
1.B.K. Bishnoi, J.V. Gole, S.K. Behal, Manbir Singh, H.S.K. Sardesai, P.K. Gandhi, Vinod Bhatia, J. Sukrut Raj and D.M. Subaiya were present. Interview with M.S.D. Wollen. Interview with Hemu Sardesai, 4 Squadron. In hindsight, the pilots admit it may not have been a wise decision to go around the aircraft. The Sabres could have been booby-trapped or the Pakistani guard may have fired at them if he had ‘lost it’. Interview with ‘Dadoo’ Subaiya. The army sepoys killed were: K. Chand, J. Mahatu, Chur Singh, D. Shinde and N.B. Patel. This estimate and quantification was attempted by the GHO representative on the basis of authorized holdings of units in East Pakistan during the war.
8. Flown by S.K. Chopra (Jessore), Rakesh Lal (Lal Munir Hat), V.K.
Arora (Hashimara). 9. J. Sukrut Raj. 10. Air Commodore Inam-ul-Haq Khan, agrees partially about the idea
of a second PAF squadron: ‘We expected that on fourth morning, TAF with its preponderance would saturate our air defence, and simultaneously sneak through a flight to bomb the runway, done two and a half days later so effectively. The delay in doing so was most unexpected! Because of lack of depth, Dacca can only be defended by CAPs, a very demanding ops in men and material. With omni-directional capability even a second squadron would
have helped but only a little.’ Correspondence with authors. 11. Haider, S. Sajjad, Flight of the Falcon, Lahore: Vanguard Books,
2009. 12. Email Correspondence with Air Marshal D.G. King-Lee, then air
attache in Dacca. 13. Ibid. 14. Of the eleven F-86 Sabres recovered by the Bangladesh Air Force,
two have survived as museum examples. While the first one is at Tezgaon, the second example is preserved at Chittagong airfield. The exhibit in the museum is believed to have been the second of the two Otters that was transferred to the BAF. The first Kilo Flight Otter was lost in an accident a few years after the war.
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