Aircraft Underwater [Interesting underwater ejection]

"Brakes, Brakes, Brakes," ordered an urgent voice over the aircraft radio. Unfortunately, Commander Peter Debrass was to recollect this only as, "Some crackling sound which I could not distinguish," and wondered who was conveying a message and to whom. This crackle at noon on 04 March 1976, began the opening chapter of two fateful minutes in the life of this experienced naval aviator. Peter completed his basic flying training at the IAF stations at Jodhpur and Secundrabad. He then came back to the Navy for his operational flying training on the Vampires, soon converting onto the Sea Hawks, the carrier based fighters. An absolute delight to fly, the Sea Hawks formed the main strike force of the carrier. As one of Indian Navy's ace pilots, Peter continued to fly with dexterity and smoothness and was soon an obvious selection for the flying instructors course, where like everywhere else, he topped the honours list. On 04 March 1976, Peter was embarked on INS Vikrant as the Commanding Officer of Indian Naval Air Squadron 300. Identified as 'The White Tigers', because their crest displays this magnificent beast leaping into the air, the Squadron had embarked on board only the previous day.

Peter was the leader of four Sea Hawks and since the Squadron was operating from INS Vikrant after a break of six weeks, he spent quite some time highlighting aircraft drills and possible emergencies whilst briefing his formation on the sortie profile. "Remember that you are being launched (naval terminology for a catapulted take off) from the carrier after a break. Approach the catapult chocks gently, stop the aircraft in time and signal to the Flight Deck Officer that you are ready." For a launch from the carrier, the aircraft is required to fulfil two conflicting conditions. The first requires the aircraft engines to be revved up to full power as soon as it is loaded on the catapult. At the same time, the aircraft must remain at rest with its brakes off. What seems an impossibility is made easy by the introduction of a hold-back unit. One end of this unit is secured to the aircraft and other to the deck keeping the aircraft stationary. The aircraft end of the hold-back has four claws held together by a steel ring. With the jerk of the catapult firing this ring breaks, the claws open and the aircraft is free to move.

Unlike expectations, the catapult has no elastic rubber components with an aircraft stretched in the centre. It basically comprises two steel cylinders connected to a launch hook (shuttle) which moves along a tracked rail on the catapult. High pressure steam is trapped in the cylinders. When this steam is released, the shuttle travels forward at high speed. By connecting a wire ring (bridle) between the shuttle and the aircraft, this movement of the shuttle is transferred to the aircraft pulling it ahead. At this moment, the hold-back ring parts and the aircraft is shot into the sky. As precision and timing are of great significance, the entire operation is controlled by the Flight Deck Officer (FDO), who communicates with the pilot through a code of hand signals and flags and with the flying control position (flyco) on intercom. The FDO drops a green flag to launch an aircraft and in an emergency raises a red flag which is used to freeze the launch procedure. No matter how often one witnesses a catapulting off the deck, the fascination never wears off. One moment you see an aircraft at rest on the flight deck and by the time you blink your eyes, it is airborne ahead of the carrier having achieved its flying speed of over 200 km/h in a takeoff run of less than 30 metres. As the first aircraft gets into the air, one hears the familiar call "Leader Airborne." Over the years, a desire for brevity has changed this call to "Leader Borne."

"Go over the emergence drills on the catapult," Peter queried his wingman, David McKenzie, during the sortie briefing. David had revived these often enough and immediately rattled them off, "A 'Premature Breakout' will occur on the launch if, for some reason, the bridle disengages before the shuttle is fired. This may cause the aircraft to surge forward. In a 'Cold Shot', the power generated by the steam may not be enough for the aircraft to attain flying speed after the launch. In both cases look at the FDO, but keep the power on. If he crosses his red and green flags, chop the throttle and sit on the brakes. If he doesn't, just brace yourself for the impact with the water, hoping that the aircraft can be nursed into level flight."

"Right. Let's man aircraft," said Peter and with that the four pilots went off to the flight deck to strap up into their Sea Hawks. As the carrier turned into the wind, Lieutenant Commander (Flying), affectionately called Little (F), blared over the flight deck broadcast, "Stand clear of jet pipes and intakes. Standby to start up the Hawks. Five, four, three, two, one, start up." All four starter cartridges fired simultaneously and a moment later, the engines started revving up. Pre-flight checks were completed and the R/T checked out. The search and rescue helicopter was ordered to get airborne and with all ready for the launch, Little (F) switched on the amber light, thereby permitted aircraft movement on the flight deck. Being the leader, Peter's aircraft moved straight onto the catapult. Little (F) flicked the control light to green and Peter started his launch procedure. All systems go, he gave the hand signal to the FDO who, after a last minute check, dropped his green flag and waited for the micro-second before the catapult would fire. As all eyes watched from flyco, Little (F) saw that something was amiss. The sequence had somehow gone awry as the hold-back parted and the bridle dropped down. The Sea Hawk was moving even before the catapult had fired. A second later, the shuttle shot forward but of what use? The aircraft and bridle had already disengaged. "Brakes, Brakes, Brakes," came the reflex R/T call from Little (F). David McKenzie and his colleagues heard this urgent message but on Peter's headset it came only as a crackle.

"Something seems wrong," thought Peter, "but since there is no signal from the FDO all must be well." Years of training to not throttle back on launch unless specifically signalled had its effect. The FDO noticed the bridle falling but could not figure out why? In that split second before he put his hands up to cross his flags, the Sea Hawk had overtaken him. He ran behind the aircraft, but was no longer in Peter's field of vision and so the Sea Hawk majestically plunged into the sea. Captain (later Admiral) Ram Tahiliani, in command of INSVikrant was sitting on the Captain's chair on the bridge. Having himself commanded No.300 Squadron and been Little (F), his reactions were copy book and instantaneous. "Starboard 30. Stop both engines," followed immediately by "Full astern both engines." Both these orders are given only in a serious emergency. But the momentum of the carrier with its 20,000 tons displacement took time for the speed to reduce and the aircraft was already under INS Vikrant. The Martin Baker ejection seat of the Sea Hawk sends the pilot into the air along with the seat and his chute. For the parachute to deploy, the aircraft must have a forward speed of at least 175 km/h. As Peter fell off the deck, he realized that the aircraft did not have the necessary speed to eject and there was little that he could do to prevent his going into the sea.

"Should I eject underwater?" came the next thought. Theoretically it was possible but Peter also knew that in practice no one had ever tried it. For an underwater ejection to be successful, the aircraft would have to first sink for seven seconds to at least thirty feet so that when separation between the parachute and the pilot occurs, both are still below the surface of the water. "Thousand one, thousand two…….thousand six, thousand seven," as he counted it occurred to him that the propeller noise had died down, so the carrier must have crossed over." With that he pulled the blind. Bang! The ejection seat fired. What Peter didn't appreciate was that the carrier was still very much on top of him. It was only that the propellers had been stopped and thus there was no noise. The rescue helicopter, call sign 'Jumbo' was at its station, flying just clear of the carrier abreast the catapult. Strapped in this helicopter was the air crew man diver, ready to jump into the water to reach the ditched pilot and hoist him up by a winch into the Jumbo.

Lt. Timky Randhawa, the pilot of this Alouette was to later recall, "I saw the Sea Hawk plunge into the water at an altitude of 45º just twenty yards ahead of the ship. Immediately after hitting the water it started sinking very fast. It was almost fully underwater when the ship hit the starboard wing of the aircraft. Immediately after that I observed glass pieces flying out of the water on the port of the ship. At this stage I dropped a marine marker to mark the position and asked the air crew man diver to standby to jump. But thereafter, there were just no signs of the pilot or the aircraft." Action alarms sounded on board the ship and it was ready to deal with this emergency. The doctor, medical and rescue teams, and look-outs were all alerted with every one on the flight deck searching the water but Peter was nowhere in sight. Suddenly Jumbo called out "Flyco, I see a Mae West on the starboard side a little away from the ship. Am proceeding to investigate." This inflatable life jacket, aptly named after Ms Mae West, is bright orange in colour and is invariably the first object to be sighted during a search. Timky had done well, soon as his elated call came over the R/T, "It's Peter all right and he has given me a thumbs up signal." Relief all over and in less than a minute Jumbo had landed back on deck with Peter safe and sound. The entire chain of events had taken less than a hundred seconds. All was well and he was back with the Squadron.

"After I pulled the blind, the next thing that I became aware of was that I was scraping against the ship's side. I tried to push with my hands and kick with my feet to clear the ship. However, I felt I could not get away as there was a lot of turbulence in the water. I released my parachute which was dragging me down and inflated by Mae West whilst still underwater. Suddenly I found I was thrown away from the ship's side. When I surfaced I was well clear of the ship and was immediately picked up by Jumbo and brought back on board." Today, Admiral R.H. Tahiliani is at the helm of the Indian Navy as the Chief of Naval Staff, whilst INS Vikrant which has just completed 25 years of glorious service is commanded by Captain Peter Debrass. Their reactions when asked about the accident that occurred exactly ten years ago is, "We were lucky." Luck, perhaps yes, but it was years of experience, correct training and good drills which ensured reflexive and immediate actions. Peter's decision to wait before the ejection and Admiral Tahiliani's order to go 'Full Astern' causing the backwash to push him away from and not into the propellers, are together responsible for his second life. If Peter had time to make his R/T call on that fateful day, he would definitely have said, "Leader Reborn."

LOL, they’re most likely Anglo-Indians. Now try this:

The Jewish general who defeated Pakistan

By SHELDON KIRSHNER

http://www.cjnews.com/viewarticle.asp?id=5574

In the annals of modern warfare, the 1971 war between India and Pakistan is regarded as a template of brilliance. Within 13 days, the Indian army routed Pakistan in one of the swiftest campaigns of the 20th century.

Occasionally compared to Israel’s victory in the 1967 Six Day War, and studied at military academies as a textbook example of efficient planning, the Indo-Pakistan war gave rise to a new state, Bangladesh, and established India as a regional superpower.

The major general who masterminded and spearheaded India’s offensive, and who accepted Pakistan’s surrender, was Jack Frederick Ralph Jacob, the scion of an old Jewish family from Calcutta. A spry bachelor of 81 who retired in 1978 as the commander of India’s eastern army, he considers that war the highlight of a long and distinguished career as a soldier. Having written a book about it, Surrender at Dacca, published in 2001 by Manohar, he claims that the war was “surely the greatest military feat in our history.”

Although historians are acquainted with his resumé, Jacob is not exactly a household name outside India. As I prepared for my trip to India late last year, I ran across his name in my research. Intrigued by the possibility of interviewing a Jewish warrior from an exotic country whose Jewish community is rooted in antiquity, I asked to meet him.

When I arrived in New Delhi on my last day in India, following relatively brief flights from Cochin and Mumbai, B.B. Mukherjee, a helpful contact from the ministry of tourism, was at the terminal to greet me with the news that Jacob had consented to an interview. I was pleased, but the timing was hardly fortuitous. I was tired, coming down with a cold and a hoarse voice, and my flight back to Toronto was just hours away. Nevertheless, I told Mukherjee I would be ready to talk to Jacob at his home in New Delhi at around five o’clock.

After a shower and change of clothes, I met Mukherjee in my hotel lobby, and off we drove to Jacob’s flat in a non-descript gray apartment building in the centre of this sprawling city and capital of India. When we arrived, one of his Nepalese houseboys opened the door and ushered us into a dimly lit room filled with French furniture and crowded with original Mogul art on the walls.

Jacob, a surprisingly small man with a café au lait complexion and a formal manner, was smartly decked out in a blue blazer, creased pants, shirt and tie. He motioned me to sit down next to him on a narrow couch.

I began by asking him about his role in the war – the 33rd anniversary of which was marked shortly before my trip to India – and his decision to become a soldier. Jacob, whose Baghdadi family settled in Calcutta more than 200 years ago and whose father – Elias Emanuel – was a businessman, was quite effusive, enunciating his words in a posh upper-class Indian accent.

A brigadier-general by 1963 and a major-general by 1967, he was appointed chief of the Eastern Command in 1969 by Gen. Sam Maneckshaw, the Parsi chief of staff. Jacob’s immediate superior was Lt. Gen. J.S. Aurora, a Sikh.

Jacob joined the British army in the summer of 1941 while at university and when India was still a British colony. He did so, he said, “to fight the Nazis.” After graduating from officers training school in 1942, he was posted to northern Iraq in anticipation of a possible German thrust to seize the Kirkuk oil fields. He trained with Glubb Pasha’s Arab Legion, which would be the backbone of Jordan’s army. In the wake of Japan’s defeat, he was assigned to Sumatra. Returning to an independent India after taking a gunnery course in Britain, Jacob commanded a mountain battery and served in an armoured division. Then, in short order, he took artillery and missile courses in the United States and was a general staff officer at Western Command headquarters.

“I didn’t plan to be a career officer,” he said. “I liked the army and stayed on. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

During the mid-1960s, when India fought a war with Pakistan, he was the commandant of the School of Artillery. Subsequently, he was in charge of an infantry division in Rajasthan, where he wrote a much-praised manual on desert warfare. Promoted to chief of staff of the Eastern Command, based in Calcutta, Jacob was soon grappling with insurgencies in Nagaland, Manipur and Mizoram.

The Eastern Command was a sensitive one. The partition of the Indian sub-continent in 1947 had led to the emergence of India and Pakistan, which was made up of two distinct and geographically disconnected areas. Although East Pakistan was more populous than West Pakistan, political power rested with the western elite, causing resentment, unrest and calls for autonomy in the other half.

By 1971, East Pakistan was in revolt, and Pakistan’s ruler, Yahya Khan, cracked down. As the violence escalated, with a massive loss of life and an exodus of millions of Hindu refugees into Indian territory, Indo-Pakistani tensions rose.

When India’s prime minister, Indira Gandhi, extended assistance to Bengali rebels who sought to break away from Pakistan and form their own country, Pakistan responded first by attacking rebel camps in India and then, on Dec. 3, by bombing nine northern Indian airfields. In a dramatic broadcast to the nation, Gandhi declared war on Pakistan.

Having watched these developments with mounting concern, Jacob realized that conflict was imminent. “We knew we would have to intervene, but we hardly had any infrastructure and had to build it up,” he recalled.

In consultation with his superiors, he refined his plan to engage Pakistan in a “war of movement” in difficult terrain with few bridges and roads, crisscrossed by rivers and broken up by swamps, mangroves and paddy fields. Jacob’s strategy was clear. Dacca – the heart of East Pakistan – would be captured and Pakistani forces bypassed. Pakistan’s communication centres would be secured and its command and control capabilities destroyed, while its forces would be drawn to the border. Some Indian commanders raised objections to the unorthodox plan, but it was finally approved.

“I planned for a three-week campaign, but it went faster than I expected,” said Jacob, who instinctively understood that speed was essential and that a protracted war would not be in India’s interests: The United Nations would apply pressure on India to halt its offensive, and the Soviet Union – India’s ally – might not be able to fend off calls for a ceasefire.

As fighting raged, Jacob flew to Dacca and wrested unconditional surrender terms from his opposite number, Gen. Amir Niazi, who would later accuse Jacob of having blackmailed him into submission.

“It was a total victory over a formidable, well-trained army,” he observed. “Had Pakistan fought on, it would have been difficult for us.” Indian casualties were 1,421 killed and 4,058 wounded. “We expected higher casualties,” he admitted. The Pakistani figures were much higher, in India’s estimation: 6,761 killed and 8,000 wounded.

Jacob, who calls Surrender at Dacca the most authoritative and objective account of the war to date, ascribed his victory to a few factors – imaginative planning, flexibility of approach, the capacity to react to shifting and perhaps unforeseen events and, of course, luck. But for Jacob, a keen student of warfare, historical context was always of crucial importance. As he put it, “I’ve learned from every campaign since Alexander the Great and Napoleon.”

Looking back, he described his 37-year career in the army as “the happiest and most enjoyable period of my life.” Never once did he feel the sting of anti-Semitism in the Indian army. “But I had some problems with the British,” he said, declining to elaborate. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

Interestingly enough, Jacob – whose Hebrew name is Yaacov Rafael and who serves as president of New Delhi’s one and only synagogue – was not the only high-ranking Jewish officer in the armed forces. “There was another Jewish general, a chap named Samson, and he was in research and development and ordnance. And there was also a Jewish vice-admiral.”

Upon leaving the army, Jacob went into business. But in 1998, he was called out of retirement to be governor of Goa, a former Portuguese colony popular with Israeli tourists. He remained there until 1999, when he assumed the governorship of Punjab, a job he held until 2003.

A three-time visitor to Israel who was once invited there by Yitzhak Rabin when he was the prime minister, Jacob was also on friendly terms with Mordechai Gur, a former Israeli chief of staff. Jacob played an indirect role in India’s decision to establish diplomatic relations with Israel in 1992, but he refused to talk about his role in that diplomatic rapprochement.

Referring to himself as “a very private person,” he was likewise reluctant to speak about his family, apart from saying that his brothers and sisters are deceased.

Today, in his twilight years, Jacob is a writer and lecturer on military and political affairs. But he wryly described his current status as “unemployed.”

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