AFVOA Newletter August 2020

Section 4 – War Diary CV 2 No. 02 / 2020 Page 57 of 237 5 Valour of a Greenhorn Wg Cdr S Sankaran VM Genre: Valour / Action / War n 15 Aug 1947, I was a 7 th Std student in Kalyanasundaram High School, Tanjore. My class teacher was Mr. Sivarama Iyer, an XL type with tuft hair and always attired in dhoti and white half sleeves shirt. We were given a big 3 lb laddu, to celebrate our Independence. Those days Mahatma Gandhi (yes, I have seen him personally) was a towering leader for all Indians. To my younger brother and niece who were just two years old, if I whisper “Gandhi” they spontaneously shout “Jai Ho”. My career in IAF is beset with some paradoxes. I was a rustic Engineering graduate in August 1962, when our entire clan mostly from the village landed at Chennai for my elder brother’s wedding. Besides shopping, sightseeing in Chennai included seeing an aeroplane. My father (the only person in our family who had flown then-from Ceylon to Madras in a Dakota) directed me to escort his kinsfolk to the Meenambakkam airport saying “You too can have a look at an aeroplane”. Later in Air Force Technical College in Feb 1964, at my graduation, my Chief Instructor, a self-styled academic and sadist remarked “Your performance is far below, yet we are pushing you out, you will be cutting a sorry figure in operational units, they may even send you out” and so on. My maiden unit was a Gnat squadron (No.2.Squadron) based at Ambala. There used to be a saying that the tiny sleek Gnat is like your girl friend, you can coax, cajole, date, dally, plead, appeal; yet will not easily get airborne. During a routine Unit Flight Safety Meeting, the issue of delay in Turn Round Servicing was discussed. Those days the Daily Servicing Section aka DSS was managed by a Flight Sergeant (JWO) popularly called Chiefee. My Commanding Officer however directed that I take over the DSS - a break in convention. It was a turning point in IAF traditions as well in my career ahead. During second week of September 1965, while I was in my village on the banks of the Cauvery, to attend a wedding, I received the Recall telegram. My Unit was at Bareilly and it took over two days by train, hauled by coal fired steam locos, from Madras to Bareilly. On arrival, I was told to board a Packet aircraft and proceed to Ambala. There I was given a stupendous task of looking after the DSS that had 50 Gnat aircraft pooled from many Squadrons. Soon the 1965 Indo Pak War broke out and we were told to deploy in an improvised dispersal covered with make shift O