February 1982 - Location - Somewhere in the northern sector-
We, a group of some officers and other ranks of the Indian Army were waiting to board the aircraft which was parked a little distance away on the tarmac. It was a Fairchild Packet Aircraft, a small I.A.F. transport plane which carried supplies and troops to the forward areas.
The Packet aircraft were widely used during second world war. India was one of the few developing countries which still used these aircraft which otherwise had been phased out by the developed nations. We all were scheduled to report to our respective units located in Ladakh.
The morning sun was unable to drive away the winter chill which, however, was nothing as compared to the cold weather which we would be braving after reaching Ladakh. Our names were being noted down in the flight manifest. I saw two pilots coming out of the administration block. One of them looked familiar. Yes it was him - MP Singh from Shimla. I was seeing him after a long time. He also recognised me and walked straight towards me. Violating the protocol of being in uniform we hugged each other.
" What are you doing here ?" I asked the irrelevant question.
" I fly these kites" He pointed towards the aircraft, " and where are you off to" he added in the same breath.
" Well I have come to ride your kite today to reach my new unit". I told him about my transfer to Ladakh.
After landing he called me into the cockpit and showed me the gadgetry.I saw him tapping the dial glass of one of the meters with his index finger, muttering something under his breath. Later on my asking he explained that it was the altimeter and that the damn thing some times malfunctioned i.e., it did not show the correct altitude when the aircraft suddenly dropped height due to air pockets on the way.
He told me that he came there almost every day, and if I wanted something from the plains I could just send a message for him at the airfield. We shook hands and parted company. It was really a great feeling having been flown by a friend on the very first day of the flight into a strange land. We mounted our respective vehicles and proceeded to our units.
I was excited to have come to this region, which still inhabited one of the pure Aryan races. It was white all around. The life seemed to have come to a stand still. The formidable mountain ranges, covered with snow, stood like sentinels of peace and tranquility, yet, hiding a history of many an invasion under their snowy sheets. It was literally a mountain desert with small green patches in the valleys here and there.
I was told to take complete rest for first day and then undergo acclimatization before proceeding to a forward post. Due to lack of oxygen, even massaging your head vigorously could leave you out of breath in the first few days without proper acclimatization.
Next day I was being dined in at the officers' mess. I was introduced to some other officers of the unit who were posted in the headquarters. We were holding our drinks and were chatting when the Commanding Officer walked in. All of us stood up. He was looking serious. He looked at all the officers and gave me a little longer gaze. Without going into pleasantries he said " Gentlemen there is bad news. The aircraft coming to our location has crashed. There were twenty three men, including crew, on board. There seems to be no survivals. The officers and other ranks who flew here yesterday, please arrange to send telegrams to your homes about your being safe." And then he forced a smile and said " let's proceed". The mess waiter had served him a drink by then. He raised his glass towards me but did not say "cheers".
Next day the news papers carried the news of the crash of the Air Force plane, giving the list of the crash victims. Flying Officer Singh's name was on top. The Packet Aircrafts were grounded permanently by the Indian Air Force shortly after that.
When I think of those moments, MP Singh's face flashes back in front of my eyes, tapping helplessly at that damn altimeter.
I received the following text as comment by an Anonymous sender. I thank him for giving the details of the crash and the names of all those killed.
Date of Crash )7 February 1982
Aircraft Type C 119 Packet
Jammu Malhar Hills 23 killed
IAF Crew Members
Sqn Ldr NS Paintal (Pilot)
Fg Offr. MP Singh (Co-Pilot)
Warrant Officer P Ramakrishana
Army Personnel
Sep Pritam Chand
Nk Joginder Singh
Sep Satya Narain
Sep Babo Narwade
Nk Mohan Kumar
Swr Ramni Kumar
Nk Cherian Angush
Sep Tashi Chawrang
LNk Thakur Das
Sep Anand Prakash Tiwari
Nk Prem Bahadur Joshi
Sep Munni
Sigmn Uma Shankar
Sigmn Rabinder Nath
Sigmn HK Ghosh
Sigmn Ranbir Singh
Sigmn Kunar Singh
Sigmn Akshey Kumar
Salute to all the departed souls.
This post also forms part of series on my life journey. To read all the posts in this series, please click here.
We, a group of some officers and other ranks of the Indian Army were waiting to board the aircraft which was parked a little distance away on the tarmac. It was a Fairchild Packet Aircraft, a small I.A.F. transport plane which carried supplies and troops to the forward areas.
The Packet aircraft were widely used during second world war. India was one of the few developing countries which still used these aircraft which otherwise had been phased out by the developed nations. We all were scheduled to report to our respective units located in Ladakh.
The morning sun was unable to drive away the winter chill which, however, was nothing as compared to the cold weather which we would be braving after reaching Ladakh. Our names were being noted down in the flight manifest. I saw two pilots coming out of the administration block. One of them looked familiar. Yes it was him - MP Singh from Shimla. I was seeing him after a long time. He also recognised me and walked straight towards me. Violating the protocol of being in uniform we hugged each other.
" What are you doing here ?" I asked the irrelevant question.
" I fly these kites" He pointed towards the aircraft, " and where are you off to" he added in the same breath.
" Well I have come to ride your kite today to reach my new unit". I told him about my transfer to Ladakh.
After landing he called me into the cockpit and showed me the gadgetry.I saw him tapping the dial glass of one of the meters with his index finger, muttering something under his breath. Later on my asking he explained that it was the altimeter and that the damn thing some times malfunctioned i.e., it did not show the correct altitude when the aircraft suddenly dropped height due to air pockets on the way.
He told me that he came there almost every day, and if I wanted something from the plains I could just send a message for him at the airfield. We shook hands and parted company. It was really a great feeling having been flown by a friend on the very first day of the flight into a strange land. We mounted our respective vehicles and proceeded to our units.
I was excited to have come to this region, which still inhabited one of the pure Aryan races. It was white all around. The life seemed to have come to a stand still. The formidable mountain ranges, covered with snow, stood like sentinels of peace and tranquility, yet, hiding a history of many an invasion under their snowy sheets. It was literally a mountain desert with small green patches in the valleys here and there.
I was told to take complete rest for first day and then undergo acclimatization before proceeding to a forward post. Due to lack of oxygen, even massaging your head vigorously could leave you out of breath in the first few days without proper acclimatization.
Next day I was being dined in at the officers' mess. I was introduced to some other officers of the unit who were posted in the headquarters. We were holding our drinks and were chatting when the Commanding Officer walked in. All of us stood up. He was looking serious. He looked at all the officers and gave me a little longer gaze. Without going into pleasantries he said " Gentlemen there is bad news. The aircraft coming to our location has crashed. There were twenty three men, including crew, on board. There seems to be no survivals. The officers and other ranks who flew here yesterday, please arrange to send telegrams to your homes about your being safe." And then he forced a smile and said " let's proceed". The mess waiter had served him a drink by then. He raised his glass towards me but did not say "cheers".
Next day the news papers carried the news of the crash of the Air Force plane, giving the list of the crash victims. Flying Officer Singh's name was on top. The Packet Aircrafts were grounded permanently by the Indian Air Force shortly after that.
When I think of those moments, MP Singh's face flashes back in front of my eyes, tapping helplessly at that damn altimeter.
I received the following text as comment by an Anonymous sender. I thank him for giving the details of the crash and the names of all those killed.
Date of Crash )7 February 1982
Aircraft Type C 119 Packet
Jammu Malhar Hills 23 killed
IAF Crew Members
Sqn Ldr NS Paintal (Pilot)
Fg Offr. MP Singh (Co-Pilot)
Warrant Officer P Ramakrishana
Army Personnel
Sep Pritam Chand
Nk Joginder Singh
Sep Satya Narain
Sep Babo Narwade
Nk Mohan Kumar
Swr Ramni Kumar
Nk Cherian Angush
Sep Tashi Chawrang
LNk Thakur Das
Sep Anand Prakash Tiwari
Nk Prem Bahadur Joshi
Sep Munni
Sigmn Uma Shankar
Sigmn Rabinder Nath
Sigmn HK Ghosh
Sigmn Ranbir Singh
Sigmn Kunar Singh
Sigmn Akshey Kumar
Salute to all the departed souls.
This post also forms part of series on my life journey. To read all the posts in this series, please click here.
