Our nation owes a debt to its fallen heroes that we can never fully repay.
Barack Obama
As a 12-year-old boy, I knew it, it was settled in my head, that I had to become a pilot. That is exactly what I did. On 21 June 1993, I was commissioned into the Indian Air Force as a transport pilot.
However, my story doesn’t start here. It starts some 23 years later on the 22nd of July 2016. I was at this point a freshly appointed Commanding Officer of a prestigious transport Squadron (Sqn). (A young squadron with an average age of just 27 years.) I had been on the hot seat for barely a month. On this ominous day, I was out of the base on an official task, and I received a rather disturbing cryptic phone call from the officer-in-charge in my absence. He, in a rather subdued voice, said “the Andaman Courier Aircraft has gone missing with 29 souls on board at 1151 hours, All overdue actions have been taken”. I acknowledged the message and told him “message copied, hold the fort and I will be there ASAP”. To put it in context, an aircraft of my Squadron had just vanished from Chennai controls’ radar screen about 151 Nautical miles east of Chennai, it had 29 people on board. It was truly horrific news! The crew had been carefully selected as was the aircraft. How do I get my boys back was my primary thought.
My Flight Commander and I headed back to the Squadron. What we observed was a stunned squadron, a group of young boys and girls shell shocked and who looked listless in the face of this calamity.
As I walked around the Sqn complex to get the pulse, I realized immediately that they needed direction, and fast. In quick time work was distributed, scheduled and unscheduled tasks allotted. No one was idle, new registers were opened up. Information was collated, new channels of news distribution were opened up. Information boards were created; all sightings and alarm pickups were meticulously marked. It became our board of hope. The news would flow out to families and relatives after being whetted for quick dissemination. The aim was that no one should be left out. The primary aim of this unending tasking was to give this young Squadron a sense of direction. Every Officer, Airman & NC(E) did more than his or her part in getting the Sqn back on its feet after this blow. My flight commander & I combined offices, to present a unified front to all outside forces.
This continued for six to seven months. Flying had immediately recommenced. No one wanted to pack up, working hours stretched endlessly, strong friendships were formed hunched over maps plotting the PLB (Personal Locator Beacon) and shared hopes and dashed dreams. Bonding improved hugely. Camaraderie increased. Spirits were sky high, in spite of only a trickle of news coming through. The efficiency was super high. The results, however, were as expected. The wreckage was not found and the crew and passengers were declared dead in a month or so. But the exercise continued for almost six months. Tears had to be used to cement our bonds. Drawn faces had to display the resilience they possessed. Strong wills had to take charge and the boys and girls had to be led and turned into men and women. This was a tough process of growing up and my team and I had the responsibility to see it through. All this period routine tasks continued unabated because life doesn’t pause.
In this difficult period my Squadron came out stronger, it regrouped and showed commitment, teamwork, willpower, and the resurgence of a will, to fight what fate had thrown against it. The difference was the leadership, leadership at every level, that’s what made the difference. Hands-on, fully involved, deeply committed, and empathetic leadership.
The help provided by the station was invaluable. Immediately after the aircraft going missing, all duties for the Sqn stopped. The Board of Officers, various checks, etc, all stopped. It showed the tremendous empathy Sunil Kumar Sir and his team and the other Squadrons possessed. A sincere thank you 🙏🏼.
Paul Sir , the Commodore Commandant, called regularly with sane advice, in this period of relative insanity, he often prompted a course correction with his humour. A sincere thank you 🙏🏼.
I wish I could write all the names, the strong, mature leaders, the mid-level supervisors, the JCOs, the Cafeteria staff, who worked tirelessly providing unstinting support, and the entire team who came together so beautifully. But most are in service & it wouldn’t be appropriate, however, it was an excellent job done. They did a superlative job. My chest swells up with pride when I think of strong air warriors I had the privilege of working with.
A story of the loss of friends is my team’s story of triumph of humankind. A story of tragedy is my team’s story of strength and commitment. A story of collective loss is my team’s story of deep bonding and strong eternal friendships.
I am just saddened that we couldn’t get our brothers home.
Badsara, Nandal, Barpatte and Ranjan Saab, Chaudhary, Kapil & all the pax, RIP. We miss you all.
