Indian Defence Review

We were quite used to flying the MI4 without radio, without navigational aids of any kind, without anything known or popular in aeronautics, all except a wing and a prayer.

I went into a tizzy, “hicum foocum”, sudden rush of shit to the brain. I was beset by a moral dilemma. Do I pretend not to have heard about Kempy ? Do I leave him there in the jungle and go home ? Do I rationalise that I had no business to get involved ? Do I make excuses that I had the Army Cdr on board ? Do I make an excuse that it was going to be sun set, that the weather was bad, that I was about 40 miles north and headed in the wrong direction ?

‘God, I didn’t even know if Kempy was dead or alive…… I said in monologue.

‘Oh God, my CO will make mice meat out of me’, I said to myself in self defence.

“I can understand if you left behind a Colonel. I can forgive you even if had left behind the GOC 2 Div”. He paused, seemingly at a loss of words. “You went and left the Army Cdr on a BSF picket”¦.!”

No …..in retrospect, I did not bring God in between and I did not consult with him either. I went mind dead for about four minutes while I contemplated the odds. In the fifth minute, I turned around and went back to a clearing near Passighat which I had over flown about ten minutes earlier. I went and landed on a volley ball court next to some tents and without switching off, I ordered the Army Cdr out. He was dumbfounded, initially loss of words. But when it came, he let it fly at me, alternating between request, order, court marshal, pleading and jostling. Actually he was a very fine man, a person I held in great awe. So I reasoned with him.

“Course mate down, Sir”, I said in clipped military parlance.

“He needs me”, I told him with finality.

“You are the Tiger, the army is here, and they will take care of you”, I think I told him. “Kempy is down there, I got to go before the Tigers get to him”.

I think the Army Cdr made a request to take him along. I think I did not want to take him along lest I endanger his life. It is possible that I left him behind out of spite, for making me wait at all the places where we went and making me go through bad weather. I don’t remember. It is quite possible. I was very young and impetuous.

Any way I then headed full throttle for Dulanmukh range. It was almost sun set by the time I reached there. I had to ask someone the general direction in which Kempy went down. I went and landed in front of the RSO’s hut and a WO ran out. He quickly pointed out the general direction and I was off the ground in a jiffy.

My bar book was closed that night, I had exceeded Rs 75, the bar book limit. Considering that Rum cost Rs 3.50 a bottle, and water cost nothing, we drank around 22 bottles of Rum that night, all towards Kempys nose.

The jungles reek a musty smell as the sun begins to set. I noticed it because I was at tree top height flying with both side doors wide open. There was total green cover, thick foliage. I looked for a fire, broken branches, silvery flash of the Gnat’s fuselage or wings, a parachute, smoke, anything to indicate a crash site. There was nothing. I did not know where to go looking. I did mental DR, 1/60 rule, calisthenics to try and figure out where Kempy may have crashed. Over the whirring sound of the rotor, I had caught only snatches of what the WO had told me at the range.

He had said something about cross wind. Yes, he had said that Kempy had ejected on the cross wind. That meant close by. James in his zealous enthusiasm had misdirected the search and others had gone looking for Kempy far and wide and had missed him.

I flew over a large patch of open grassy space. I saw a large herd of frightened wild elephants scattering in all directions with their tails and trunks held high.

“Kempy, where are you ?”, I shrieked over the noise of the wind and the MI4.

Suddenly I heard him. I swear I heard him. It seemed the MI4 knew where to go to find Kempy. I swear I never flew it. It was the hand of God that held the cyclic.

I overflew a hut in another patch of grass, and I thought I saw about 50 people milling about. The MI4 turned around on it’s own and this time I could see clearly that there was some commotion on the ground. I closed the throttle, yanked the speed down and set down the helicopter in a small clearing with very tall trees all around. When I switched off, the helicopter started juddering and after the rotors stopped, I realised that I had hit a tree while landing. About 7 inches of all the tail rotor blades had been cleanly shorn off. I also discovered to my horror that the Russians had made the tail rotor with ply wood. But at that time I was not too worried about the tail rotor. I ran forward to find Kempy.

Kempy now has a wonderful nose. Makes him very handsome and dignified”¦ I cannot take the credit”¦.I take the credit only for the incredible act of closing my bar book in one night”¦

Kempy was lying on a charpoy about 300 mtrs from where I had landed, where the villagers had brought him out from the jungle. He appeared to be semi conscious, groaning with pain. He still had his helmet on, though the mask was dangling around his chest. His nose was completely smashed and his faced covered with blood. His nostrils were choked partially with dried mucus and blood, still oozing plasma. He was labouring for breath through his mouth, spasms raking his chest. I think he had been like that all day, while the search was on overhead, the villagers were frightened to touch him.

The sun by then had set or was about to set.

I quickly got Kempy’s helmet off, poured water on his face, cleaned his nose and mouth and made him drink some water. He seemed partially awake but he had no situational awareness or what happened to him. It also looked as if he had suffered a compression fracture of his spine.