The day of the victuals

The tale of an aerial marksman-pilot’s confident wager off INS Viraat

March 19, 2017 01:22 am | Updated 01:22 am IST

I was fortunate to be part of the elite White Tigers of the Indian Navy, INAS 300, the only fighter squadron there was in the 1990s, flying the Sea Harrier jump jets from the decks of the aircraft carrier INS Viraat.  Our squadron was based in Goa and embarked from the mother ship INS Viraat whenever it sailed out of Mumbai. The mother and her birds made a formidable force guarding India’s fleet from any aerial threats. During times of peace we prepared for war. 

One such exercise of practice rocket-firing was taking place one morning. The mother was towing a target about 500 yards behind it and the Sea Harriers were pounding rockets one after the other.

Being a more experienced and senior member of the squadron, I was not scheduled to fly that day and was cooling my heels on the quarter deck enjoying the sea breeze and the thrilling sight of the formidable fighters in action. Out of nowhere the Logistic Officer of the ship joined me to witness the firing and started making comments about the young pilots who were missing the target regularly. I tried to convince him about the inexperience of these youngsters, who would need regular practice to become better marksmen.

Little did I realise the trap I was falling into as the Logistic Officer challenged me to prove my point as I was one of the so-called “experienced pilots”. His words took me by surprise, but soon as a true fighter pilot I regained my composure and explained to him that we fire five rockets one at a time and have to take into account the ship’s speed and direction, the wind speed and direction, the tide flow, the speed of the aircraft and so on. And with so many variables at play, not everyone will be able to achieve five out of five direct hits. At this he challenged me to hit three out of five direct hits with a promise to serve 12 tandoori chicken if I succeeded. Being the Logistic Officer of the ship nothing goes out of his own pocket.

The thought of 12 full tandoori chicken was too much to resist and I accepted the challenge without much forethought. Maybe my ready acceptance cast a shadow of doubt in his mind and he promptly asked me for 12 chicken in return if I failed in my attempt. The ego of the fighter pilot had been hurt and there was no backing out now.

To have my name included in the next flying programme was not very difficult since I could encourage the Flight Commander with the prospect of a tandoori chicken. And sure enough the news spread like wildfire. After finishing my preparations, I made a visit to the Flyco, the air HQ of the carrier, adjacent to the bridge where the Captain sits. I had to narrate the full story to the Commander Air and requested him to ensure a steady course and speed for the ship while I was in the air. Having received his approval and good wishes I proceeded to the aircraft to complete my “Mission Tandoori Chicken”.

An eerie feeling crept up my spine as I stepped on to the flight deck, for I became the focus of all eyes and probably the whole ship knew what was about to happen. A few thumbs-up signals and best wishes followed and suddenly I was a nervous wreck.   

But once inside the Harrier, one automatically gets transformed into a different dimension, with little time to think about anything other than the mission at hand. In due course I found myself diving down from 2,000 feet at an angle of 20 degrees towards the target at a speed of about 900 kmph. With the target in sight and at the correct distance, a gentle push on the firing button allowed a monster to leap out of my wings with a shriek into the heart of the splashing target. One out of one.

I yanked back the joystick to pull her out of the dive into a 6g manoeuvre for the second attempt. This time my mind was more at ease with similar conditions as the first one, and a second push followed. Again my rocket darted towards the target with such magnetic precision that the direct hit call from Flyco was as expected. 

With two out of two, a little show-off was called for and this time my 6g pullout of the dive was directed over the Carrier. While doing so I glanced over my shoulder towards the flight deck, only to see hundreds of sailors watching the spectacle. With one more to go and three lives remaining, I became a little complacent and was singing to myself in the third dive.

A little doubt crept up my mind as the third rocket veered slightly to the left and a ‘9 O’clock 5 yards’ call from the Flyco confirmed that I had missed the third one. I became a little jittery as I had to hit one out of two now. The fourth dive followed suit and this time I had to correct for the left drift of the previous rocket. A minor over-correction deflected the rocket to the right and a ‘3 O’clock 5 yards’ call from the Flyco was like a stab in the chest. With two out of four and the last chance to redeem my pride and the chicken, I pulled the fighter out of the steep dive for the final countdown.

I was nervous and had to concentrate, but my breathing rate had increased. I selected my oxygen to 100% and took a few deep breaths and tried to concentrate on the target. I could suddenly feel the change in myself as I concentrated more on the target. My vision was now fixated and I could only see one thing, and that was my target. I became concentration personified and with utmost steadiness fired, and as the rocket blasted past I felt my mind was actually directing the rocket to the target. Surely, the pull-out was delayed, as this was the first time I was trying out the “Fly and Fire by Mind” concept and had to ensure that my last rocket found its target. A timely 8g pull-out with all my might ensured that the Harrier didn’t become a submarine, and pushing the PTT (Press to Talk) button I yelled out, “Chicken”. The Commander Air yelled back from Flyco, “Yeah Yeah Chicken”.

Mission accomplished, a fly-past was the need of the hour, and I normally don’t miss such opportunities. A low pass directed at the Flyco at full throttle was rather unceremoniously carried out, followed by a victory roll. As the roar of the Pegasus at full power reverberated through the mighty carrier, it had its effect on the Captain’s afternoon siesta and he promptly rushed up the bridge to investigate. I am unsure as to how the Commander Air managed the situation but the Captain surprised everyone by the prompt offer of 12 chicken from his side too, thus taking the tally to 24.

The same day evening after night flying, a grand party was organised along with the Sea King brothers from 330 squadron, and the 24 tandoori chicken were devoured alongside scotch and beer. The sheepish smile on the face of the Logistic Officer throughout the party only added more spice to the tandoori chicken. The Commander Air secretly admitted to me at the party that he got a sweet dressing down from the Captain for having kept him in the dark, leading to his missing the live show.

Today, even as I relax on the decks of my B-777 on ultra-long commercial flights to the United States, I still cherish memories of the looks of admiration received from the sailors who watched my performance that day. I am sure many of us have such wonderful experiences to relate with respect to our dear mother, “INS Viraat”.   

 

 

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