SekrutYakhni
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'Armchair brigade', what is that?
Shooting Down the First Soviet Su-25
- Thread starter air marshal
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fatman17
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fatman17
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AFM is reputed yes but is not correct in this instance! - the debris of the downed F-16 landed well within pak territory and recovered by rescue crews very soon. on the russian side there was no evidence to support the claim of the afghan or soviet airforce. u want me to believe a story 'conceived' by the KGB which needed such stories to raise the morale of their 'defeated' army in afghanistan
so does a very pathetic attempt at sarcasm.
x_man
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*** While I was writing reply to I'Kafir ,TaimiKhan took care of that Troll.
But allow me to still post the reply because I think that few soldiers of Armchair Brigade from across the border need to know this as well. ****
Does name Flt Lt-A.B.Dhavale ring any bells ? On 11th December'71 at Adampur,Flt Lt A.B.Dhavle of 1Sqn flying a MiG-21(C1107) was shot by another Mig-21 . Flt Lt Dhavale was killed instantly.
There are enough PAF publications to prove this. But I am sure you will rule them out as being bias, so here is a proof from your own site.
One due to accidental firing of a missile by a mistake in identifying Flt. Lt. A.B. Dhavle of No.1 Sqn during a night raid.
[url=http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/Aircraft/MiG-21.html]IAF MiG-21s At War[/URL]
11-Dec-71 MiG-21 Flt Lt A B Dhavle C1107 Adampur Accident. SD by a MiG-21 . killed
[url=http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1971War/Appendix2.html]Indian Air Force Losses in the 1971 War[/URL]
Now lets move forward buddy and as said by Fatman that F-16 was a fratricide. I am not trying to defend it as I feel sorry for about this incident, it shouldn’t have happened. But the thing is that in the confusion of combat and stresses of action, anything can happen. Sometimes own guys are hurt.
Mine, yours and almost every other airforce has suffered from fratricide incidents in different ways. Even in recent Iraq / Afghanistan wars, there have been so many incidents where USAF pilots have dropped bombs on their own or friendly forces, in return killing many of their own.
Despite hi-tech aircrafts, AWACS support, FACs presence and effective communication: FRATRICIDE STILL HAPPENS AND WILL CONT TO HAPPEN IN THE FOG OF WAR AND COMBAT.
But allow me to still post the reply because I think that few soldiers of Armchair Brigade from across the border need to know this as well. ****Does name Flt Lt-A.B.Dhavale ring any bells ? On 11th December'71 at Adampur,Flt Lt A.B.Dhavle of 1Sqn flying a MiG-21(C1107) was shot by another Mig-21 . Flt Lt Dhavale was killed instantly.
There are enough PAF publications to prove this. But I am sure you will rule them out as being bias, so here is a proof from your own site.
One due to accidental firing of a missile by a mistake in identifying Flt. Lt. A.B. Dhavle of No.1 Sqn during a night raid.
[url=http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/Aircraft/MiG-21.html]IAF MiG-21s At War[/URL]
11-Dec-71 MiG-21 Flt Lt A B Dhavle C1107 Adampur Accident. SD by a MiG-21 . killed
[url=http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1971War/Appendix2.html]Indian Air Force Losses in the 1971 War[/URL]
Now lets move forward buddy and as said by Fatman that F-16 was a fratricide. I am not trying to defend it as I feel sorry for about this incident, it shouldn’t have happened. But the thing is that in the confusion of combat and stresses of action, anything can happen. Sometimes own guys are hurt.
Mine, yours and almost every other airforce has suffered from fratricide incidents in different ways. Even in recent Iraq / Afghanistan wars, there have been so many incidents where USAF pilots have dropped bombs on their own or friendly forces, in return killing many of their own.
Despite hi-tech aircrafts, AWACS support, FACs presence and effective communication: FRATRICIDE STILL HAPPENS AND WILL CONT TO HAPPEN IN THE FOG OF WAR AND COMBAT.
Manticore
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*** While I was writing reply to I'Kafir ,TaimiKhan took care of that Troll.
Does name Flt Lt-A.B.Dhavale ring any bells ? On 11th December'71 at Adampur,Flt Lt A.B.Dhavle of 1Sqn flying a MiG-21(C1107) was shot by another Mig-21 . Flt Lt Dhavale was killed instantly.
There are enough PAF publications to prove this. But I am sure you will rule them out as being bias, so here is a proof from your own site.
One due to accidental firing of a missile by a mistake in identifying Flt. Lt. A.B. Dhavle of No.1 Sqn during a night raid.
[url=http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/Aircraft/MiG-21.html]IAF MiG-21s At War[/URL]
11-Dec-71 MiG-21 Flt Lt A B Dhavle C1107 Adampur Accident. SD by a MiG-21 . killed
[url=http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1971War/Appendix2.html]Indian Air Force Losses in the 1971 War[/URL]
Now lets move forward buddy and as said by Fatman that F-16 was a fratricide. I am not trying to defend it as I feel sorry for about this incident, it shouldnt have happened. But the thing is that in the confusion of combat and stresses of action, anything can happen. Sometimes own guys are hurt.
Mine, yours and almost every other airforce has suffered from fratricide incidents in different ways. Even in recent Iraq / Afghanistan wars, there have been so many incidents where USAF pilots have dropped bombs on their own or friendly forces, in return killing many of their own.
Despite hi-tech aircrafts, AWACS support, FACs presence and effective communication: FRATRICIDE STILL HAPPENS AND WILL CONT TO HAPPEN IN THE FOG OF WAR AND COMBAT.
welcome back sir! i hope sir muradk will be joining us soon aswell-- its you guys who maintain the high quality of info on the forum
Tajdar adil
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Pakistan Air Force is the best air force in the world thats why European and Americans not giving us his best fighter planes thats because of this.
isi admirer
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I WAS THERE
MIRANSHAH AND RUTSKOI
The name may sound like one of a great Saint or Pir but the fact is, it is a small town in North Waziristan Agency of the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) of Pakistan. It is located quite close to the Pak-Afghan border. During the eighties, when the Soviet-Afghan conflict was at its peak, the airspace over the area became the scene of many an aerial engagement. Since the Afghan air base at Matun was barely 30 NM away, Miranshah became a popular front for routine border violations by Afghan and Russian aircraft. During 1985-86, PAF had even positioned a squadron of Crotale missiles at Miranshah to deter intruding enemy aircraft.
Till early sixties, Miranshah had been a fighter base of the PAF. The last time actual operations were conducted from the place was during Indo-Pak war of 1971 when Miranshah was used as the war time dispersal location of C-130 aircraft from No.6 ATS Sqn. The main runway by now had huge craters and had long since been abandoned. The only place fit for landing and that too by only light aircraft, was a small taxi track.
During peacetime, the entire western border of Pakistan is manned by the Paramilitary forces. They consist of militia troops from the Frontier Constabulary. The soldiers are recruited from amongst the local populace while the officers are taken on secondment from Pakistan Army. Perhaps to give the troops a sense of belonging, the names of various units are based on the local geo-cultural features like the Khyber Rifles, Thal Scouts and Kurram Militia. Miranshah was the Headquarters of Tochi Scouts. They were founded by a Royal Army Captain in 1909 who was the first Englishman to have ventured thus far into what is now known as North Waziristan. Since nobody is considered safe in tribal territory, the HQs of Tochi Scouts was housed inside an old fortress that resembled a jail when viewed from outside. It had high walls all along the perimeter with sentry posts perched at regular intervals and a giant main gate, the kind that would remind you of the Mughal era. Due to security reasons, the gate used to get bolted every evening at sunset and would open again at sunrise the next morning. The metalled surface just outside the main gate of the fortress was in fact the taxi track that was used by Cessnas and Mushaks as a landing strip.
One of the advantages of being a light communication aircraft pilot was that your job took you to strange places and I always loved such trips. I had been to Miranshah a couple of times but the most memorable visit took place in August, 1988. Downing of Afghan/Russian planes by PAF F-16s had become a routine matter by then. On the evening of August 05, 1988, while on a CAP (Combat Air Patrol) mission in an F-16, Sqn Ldr Athar Bukhari shot down an intruding Su-25. I was posted in No. 41 Sqn, based at Peshawer in those days. The next morning, I was tasked to fly three people in a Cessna-172 from Peshawer to Miranshah. My passengers were Gp Capt Naseem Gul, the OC flying wing and two officers from the Directorate of Electronics at Rear Air Headquarters. The task of the AHQ team was to salvage any useful ECM/EW equipment from the crash site while OC flying was to arrange the transportation of the wreckage to Peshawer.
With the OC flying seated on the right seat and the two engineers in the rear, I took off from Peshawer around midday. Direct navigation from Peshawer to Miranshah would have meant flying within two miles of the border at more than one place so we always flew Peshawer-Kohat-Bannu-Miranshah. The last leg i.e. Bannu-Miranshah, meant flying on a westerly heading straight towards the international border. Miranshah was around 30 miles from Bannu. In those days of active hostilities, this was a dangerous area to fly in; more so in a slow moving unarmed single engine propeller driven aircraft. You could bump into an enemy aircraft and become a sitting target. Also, the chances of getting hit by small arms fire from the ground by the ever trigger happy, unruly Pathans were always present since the area was rife with them. Lastly, while doing DR navigation in the absence of radar and navigational aids, it did not require a gross error to accidentally go across the border.
Since Miranshah was an unmanned and disused airfield obviously without any navigational aids, the only reliable navigational instrument in those pre GPS days, was the good old standby magnetic compass. After I had flown for about ten minutes on the Bannu-Miranshah leg, I could feel the OC flying getting itchy and restless. We knew each other from the time when I was a final term cadet and he was the OC Cadets’ Wing. Without a word being spoken, I knew how he felt and did not blame him for that. I understood it took a lot of guts to trust a Flg Off leading you westwards towards the border in a small aircraft during a period of active hostilities. Finally, when it became too much for him, he asked me: “where is it?, how much farther to go?” By then, I could see a small hill 12, 0’ clock and three miles, just after which, I knew because of my earlier trips, lay the runway. I told him: “Sir, as we cross this hill in front, you’ll see the runway” and apparently, he felt better. A few minutes later, we crossed the hill and landed at Miranshah.
The Scouts had had information about our arrival and were expecting us. On landing, we were greeted by them and led inside the fortress to their HQs. Unlike regular Pakistan Army troops, the FC had their unique uniform. They wore black Shalwar Kameez with a maroon leather belt, white woollen socks and an orange Kohati Chappal. Since it was lunchtime, we were taken straight to the Officers’ Mess. It was an old but well kept building. The rooms were big, airy and tall. Large wooden beams supported the sloping roof of the integral veranda, once again a reminder of the colonial era. There was a big sitting room that was lined up with glass cabinets all along the walls. The cabinets were full of precious silverware. Adorning the walls were strange looking guns and swords complete with their holsters, slings, bayonets and scabbards. Such were the memorabilia in that room that viewed in isolation, the place would have certainly passed off as a military museum of the First World War. Colonel Afridi, the Commandant of Tochi Scouts was our host at the lunch. While we had food, the programme for the afternoon was discussed. After lunch, we were to proceed to the crash site in FC transports. The Army Brigade at Bannu was to be requested to send in a heavy crane to lift the wreckage and host it onto the two trucks that were to be hired to transport it to Peshawer.
The wreckage was lying at a place known as Boya. The narrow road that led to it passed through a winding valley. The turns and bends were so sharp and frequent that no sooner had we set course, I lost all sense of direction. I had flown in the area many times but this was my first chance to see the tribal countryside while traveling by road. The terrain was absolutely barren and barring a few scattered patches of wild grass, almost totally devoid of any vegetation. Irregular ridges of dry rocky mountains on either side provided intermittent relief from the blazing sun. There were no villages to be seen, only mud plastered houses in isolated groups of three or four. All the houses, even the smallest ones, resembled fortresses. On every rooftop, there was a crown like structure, the kind you find atop ancient castles and forts. Within, there was a place to sit and point your gun at the adversary through U shaped openings in the walls without exposing yourself to the enemy’s gunfire. There were no women to be seen out on the road; only small children and gun totting Pathans, with their huge turbans held securely in place.
It took us better part of an hour to reach Boya. The wreckage lay just besides the road, still smouldering. The aircraft lay inverted. It had probably been a slow speed impact with the ground as most of the aircraft was still intact. The outboard half of the left wing was missing. Since it had been a missile hit, probably on the wing, a part of it had broken off in mid air. The locals who had gathered around us soon confirmed that there was a piece of wreckage lying some distance away. Leaving the two engineers to look for any electronic gadgets, guided by the locals, Gp Capt Naseem and I set off to have a look at the other piece of wreckage. It was less than a kilometer away and lay across a narrow ravine. The water was neither cold nor very deep; nevertheless, just deep enough for the two of us to take off our flying boots and socks and roll up the lower ends of our coveralls to keep them from getting wet. Carrying our boots in our hands and carefully dodging the sharp edges of the pointed pebbles that formed the floor of the ravine, we reached the place. It was no doubt the missing part of the left wing. There was a drop tank shaped vessel which lay smoking, not far away. Failing to find anything of further interest, we returned back to the crash site. The engineers by then, had found out lot of unspent chaff and flare cartridges from the wreckage. They had also retrieved something that gave the semblance of a radio aid but was damaged. The trucks and the crane had reached by then. It took us over an hour to load everything on the trucks and send them off to Peshawer. Before leaving for Miranshah, we had tea at the Boya Officers’ Mess with Major Tariq, the Wing Commander, Boya wing of Tochi Scouts and his second in command, Captain Jan.
While inspecting the wreckage, we had looked very carefully for the remains of the pilot but had failed to find anything. The local population had already been alerted by the Scouts to look for him and had even been promised a cash reward for handing him over to them. By evening, it had been 24 hours since the crash and the pilot may well have escaped to Afghanistan by now, I thought. It was dark when we reached the Mess. Since all the others had finished their jobs for the day, they went in for a shower and dinner but I knew, my duty as the Captain of an outstation aircraft was far from over. The place being surrounded by hills, it used to get lot of valley winds. My aircraft being relatively light in weight, I had to ensure that it was properly picketed and secured for the night before I went to bed. I got hold of a JCO and told him I needed ropes. It took him sometime to arrange the ropes and then the two of us went to the aircraft. With the help of a couple of soldiers, I tied the aircraft securely and satisfied, came back to the Mess. For those of us who regard flying a light aircraft as mere fun (and I know most pilots do), it should serve as an eye opener about the difficulties and responsibilities of a light aircraft pilot. There are many times when a light aircraft pilot has to act as the ground crew, the technician and the engineer. I remember on more than one occasion having had to climb on top of the wing of a Mushak and refuel it myself since there was nobody else around qualified to do it.
That day, ironically, out of the four of us, I was the only one who had not been told before departure from Peshawer that we were to spend the night at Miranshah. As such, neither had I informed my wife of five months that I won’t be home that night nor had I carried with me anything other than the flying gear I wore. But the Scouts were great people; before I could ask them for anything, I was provided with a Shalwar Kameez and Chappal. Dead tired from the day’s activities, I took a shower and had dinner. Thinking of my wife who I knew would keep the lights on in our room in the Officers Mess, Peshawer and stay up the whole night because she was too scared of the dark, I went to bed early.
I woke up around 0700 hours in the morning and just when we were finishing the breakfast, I saw a lot of movement outside in the Mess lawns. Coming out, we saw a group of around thirty tribals, surrounding one person. The man in the middle was wearing a worn out Shalwar Kameez, faded, and with numerous patches of different colours. His feet were in a pair of ugly looking busted up oxford pattern shoes that had not seen polish in years. He wore them without socks. Disregarding his attire, he was a handsome man in his late thirties/early forties, fair and about six feet tall. He had square shoulders, a broad chest and a flat belly. Deep green eyes were perfectly in place on his tough broad face that sported a huge and well kempt, burly brown moustache. By any standards, his manly figure was not just eye catching but for a man his age, simply impressive at first sight. He was the Soviet pilot of the downed Su-25. He had ejected safely and for two nights and one day, had evaded capture probably hiding during the day and moving towards the border only at night. He had been wise enough to rid himself of any identification papers that he may have carried on his person. He had even discarded his coverall for some reason and had been caught, sleeping in a field, early in the morning in just his underwear. There was a village close to the place where he was caught and he had been discovered by one of the village women who had ventured out in the morning to relieve herself in the fields. Seeing him, she had come back running and informed the village folk who had then gone and captured the poor fellow. As the conservative Pathans must not have approved of an alien roaming around half naked amongst them, they had given him the shabby Shalwar Kameez in which he had been brought to the Mess.
As the Commandant got busy in informing the FC HQs and the authorities in Islamabad about the capture, Gp Capt Naseem and I had an unofficial interrogation session with the prisoner. The three of us sat in one of our rooms and we started off. He behaved as if he couldn’t understand a word of English but I had a feeling he actually did. He gave his name as Alexander. Gp Capt Naseem pointed to his shoulders and asked about his rank. He said Pot Pulkownik. Reading our blank faces, he went on to explain Kapitaan, Majoure, Pulkownik, Pot Pulkownik. We understood he was a Gp Capt. Most of the conversation that followed was done using the sign language and also drawing figures and shapes on a piece of paper. He divulged or at least we understood that he was 40 and commanding a wing of Soviet fighter aircraft. We took the names of all the Soviet fighter/bomber aircraft that we knew and he said he had flown all of them. Just for fun, Gp Capt Naseem even told him that it was he who had shot him down to which he replied with a big smile and thumbs up. When asked about his family, he explained that he had a wife and two kids.
While we were busy talking to the prisoner, arrangements had been made to take him to Islamabad. Since Miranshah runway was not fit enough, a C-130 with people from the ISI was positioned at Kohat. An Allouette-III helicopter landed at Miranshah to take him to Kohat. He looked disturbed as handcuffed and blind folded, he was hoisted on the helicopter by the ISI escorts.
While in Islamabad, he was interrogated by the air force and ISI people and finally after about eight days of captivity, handed over to the Soviet Embassy in Islamabad. During those days, the Soviet Union was repeatedly leveling allegations that Pakistani pilots were taking active part in the war by flying alongside Afghan pilots from within Afghanistan. Just to tell the world that in fact, it was the other way round and it were the Soviet pilots who were attacking targets in Pakistani territory, the Government of Pakistan made sure that the handing over of the pilot (whose full name was Alexander Rutskoi) to the Soviet Embassy was given due coverage in the evening news Khabarnama by Pakistan television.
In the evening, I took off with my passengers from Miranshah and landed in Peshawer at 1800 hours. As far as I was concerned, the story of Alexander Rutskoi had ended but it did not. Many years after the break up of Soviet Union, there was a failed coup attempt in Russia by the Vice President who was captured and jailed. His name was Alexander Rutskoi. I came to know only when the news hit the headlines and I saw him on the TV. I recognized him instantly. He had certainly aged and put on lot of weight but still retained his charisma. His story went like this. After going back from the war, he had become a war hero as besides his other achievements, it had been the second time that he had been shot down and had survived during the same war. Gaining countrywide respect and fame, he had left the air force and joined politics. Charismatic as he was, it did not take him long to rise to the post of the country’s Vice President and then, probably aiming a bit too high before time, Alexander Rutskoi fell.
Following are some excerpts about "Aleksander Vladimir Rutskoi" taken from the internet:
Former governor Rutskoi had a history of disloyalty and a reputation for acting independently of the Kremlin. As vice president of Russia, he staged an attempted coup against President Boris Yeltsin in 1993. He was also friendly with Boris Berezovsky, a Russian Jewish oligarch and a Putin enemy. On a visit to Israel in the early 1990s Rutskoi said his mother was Jewish.
Rutskoi, Aleksander
Russian politician, founder of the reformist Communists for Democracy group, and vice president of the Russian Federation 1991-93. During the abortive August 1991 coup he led the Russian delegation to rescue Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev from his forced confinement in the Crimea. In September 1993, with Ruslan Khasbulatov, he led the insurrection against Russian president Boris Yeltsin. Both men were arrested and imprisoned but then released in 1994 on the instructions of the federal assembly. Shortly after his release, Rutskoi, as leader of the Russian Social Democratic People's Party, professed his support for a reconstituted Soviet Union. In August 1996 Rutskoi became a leading member of the communist-led Patriotic Popular Union of Russia. He was elected governor of Kursk in southwestern Russia in October 1996.
A former air officer and highly decorated Afghan War veteran, Rutskoi became increasingly critical of the Yeltsin administration, especially its price liberalization reforms. In 1992 Yeltsin placed Rutskoi in charge of agricultural reform.
Aleksandr Rutskoi, vice-king?
In spring 1991, during the Third Russian Congress, one conservative deputy threw the leadership of the Communist Party into a state of shock. On behalf of 179 members of a new faction called "Communists for Democracy," he announced full support for the Supreme Soviet of Russia and its chairman, condemned the mass media for defaming Boris Yeltsin, and strongly supported establishing the post of president of the republic. After walking off the platform, he added: "Are there any sensible people at this Congress with party membership cards by their hearts? There are such people, and many of them."
This man was Aleksandr Rutskoi, a 50-year-old colonel, and a hero in the Afghanistan war. A pilot, he was shot down twice over the country to which the Soviet Union was offering active "national assistance." Just a year before switching to Yeltsin's side, Rutskoi, a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Russia, had denounced Andrei Sakharov and the democrats in general while praising the avowed fascists of the Pamyat organization.
Rutskoi's apparent break with his past naturally provoked wild rejoicing in the democratic camp. His previous mistakes and red-brown leanings were promptly and generously forgotten. The pages of liberal newspapers were filled with fawning interviews with the dashing colonel. And when Yeltsin entered the race for the post of Russian president, he chose Rutskoi as his running mate.
During the August coup, Vice President Rutskoi played a conspicuous role as the one in charge of the defense of the White House. And it was he who led the special group sent by Russia to free Mikhail Gorbachev from his Crimean imprisonment, an operation he later described on TV, in a wonderfully vivid manner.
The general's star-he was named a major-general after the coup-rose higher and higher, with no obstacles in its way.
But Rutskoi's military roots soon began to show. He began forming detachments of the national guard, and boys with machine guns seemed to take up permanent residence in the anteroom of his office. "Rutskoi's people" began assuming new responsibilities hardly appropriate for a vice president's range of activities-although these are only vaguely defined in the constitution. Papers began disappearing from the sealed-up premises of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. Furthermore, a large number of former KGB officers began gathering around Rutskoi.
As the supporting cast for Rutskoi's role as vice-king played their roles with great exaggeration, Rutskoi's reckless abandon seemed less commendable in a government post than it had been on the barricades. Yeltsin pushed the general back into the shadows.
Having tasted fame, Rutskoi found this difficult to accept, and his friends urged him on as well. In January 1992, despite the formal censure of his own party, Rutskoi gave a speech at the all-Russian "congress of patriotic forces," which was organized in an attempt to unify anti-Yeltsin forces. Questions remain about whether the vice president has the right to follow such an independent line.
In the end, Rutskoi was handed the agriculture portfolio, the traditional expression of deep disfavor in Russian politics. Some "experts" have publicly announced that Rutskoi has "found himself" in this new position and that he has become the last hope for the rebirth of the Russian peasantry.
MIRANSHAH AND RUTSKOI
The name may sound like one of a great Saint or Pir but the fact is, it is a small town in North Waziristan Agency of the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) of Pakistan. It is located quite close to the Pak-Afghan border. During the eighties, when the Soviet-Afghan conflict was at its peak, the airspace over the area became the scene of many an aerial engagement. Since the Afghan air base at Matun was barely 30 NM away, Miranshah became a popular front for routine border violations by Afghan and Russian aircraft. During 1985-86, PAF had even positioned a squadron of Crotale missiles at Miranshah to deter intruding enemy aircraft.
Till early sixties, Miranshah had been a fighter base of the PAF. The last time actual operations were conducted from the place was during Indo-Pak war of 1971 when Miranshah was used as the war time dispersal location of C-130 aircraft from No.6 ATS Sqn. The main runway by now had huge craters and had long since been abandoned. The only place fit for landing and that too by only light aircraft, was a small taxi track.
During peacetime, the entire western border of Pakistan is manned by the Paramilitary forces. They consist of militia troops from the Frontier Constabulary. The soldiers are recruited from amongst the local populace while the officers are taken on secondment from Pakistan Army. Perhaps to give the troops a sense of belonging, the names of various units are based on the local geo-cultural features like the Khyber Rifles, Thal Scouts and Kurram Militia. Miranshah was the Headquarters of Tochi Scouts. They were founded by a Royal Army Captain in 1909 who was the first Englishman to have ventured thus far into what is now known as North Waziristan. Since nobody is considered safe in tribal territory, the HQs of Tochi Scouts was housed inside an old fortress that resembled a jail when viewed from outside. It had high walls all along the perimeter with sentry posts perched at regular intervals and a giant main gate, the kind that would remind you of the Mughal era. Due to security reasons, the gate used to get bolted every evening at sunset and would open again at sunrise the next morning. The metalled surface just outside the main gate of the fortress was in fact the taxi track that was used by Cessnas and Mushaks as a landing strip.
One of the advantages of being a light communication aircraft pilot was that your job took you to strange places and I always loved such trips. I had been to Miranshah a couple of times but the most memorable visit took place in August, 1988. Downing of Afghan/Russian planes by PAF F-16s had become a routine matter by then. On the evening of August 05, 1988, while on a CAP (Combat Air Patrol) mission in an F-16, Sqn Ldr Athar Bukhari shot down an intruding Su-25. I was posted in No. 41 Sqn, based at Peshawer in those days. The next morning, I was tasked to fly three people in a Cessna-172 from Peshawer to Miranshah. My passengers were Gp Capt Naseem Gul, the OC flying wing and two officers from the Directorate of Electronics at Rear Air Headquarters. The task of the AHQ team was to salvage any useful ECM/EW equipment from the crash site while OC flying was to arrange the transportation of the wreckage to Peshawer.
With the OC flying seated on the right seat and the two engineers in the rear, I took off from Peshawer around midday. Direct navigation from Peshawer to Miranshah would have meant flying within two miles of the border at more than one place so we always flew Peshawer-Kohat-Bannu-Miranshah. The last leg i.e. Bannu-Miranshah, meant flying on a westerly heading straight towards the international border. Miranshah was around 30 miles from Bannu. In those days of active hostilities, this was a dangerous area to fly in; more so in a slow moving unarmed single engine propeller driven aircraft. You could bump into an enemy aircraft and become a sitting target. Also, the chances of getting hit by small arms fire from the ground by the ever trigger happy, unruly Pathans were always present since the area was rife with them. Lastly, while doing DR navigation in the absence of radar and navigational aids, it did not require a gross error to accidentally go across the border.
Since Miranshah was an unmanned and disused airfield obviously without any navigational aids, the only reliable navigational instrument in those pre GPS days, was the good old standby magnetic compass. After I had flown for about ten minutes on the Bannu-Miranshah leg, I could feel the OC flying getting itchy and restless. We knew each other from the time when I was a final term cadet and he was the OC Cadets’ Wing. Without a word being spoken, I knew how he felt and did not blame him for that. I understood it took a lot of guts to trust a Flg Off leading you westwards towards the border in a small aircraft during a period of active hostilities. Finally, when it became too much for him, he asked me: “where is it?, how much farther to go?” By then, I could see a small hill 12, 0’ clock and three miles, just after which, I knew because of my earlier trips, lay the runway. I told him: “Sir, as we cross this hill in front, you’ll see the runway” and apparently, he felt better. A few minutes later, we crossed the hill and landed at Miranshah.
The Scouts had had information about our arrival and were expecting us. On landing, we were greeted by them and led inside the fortress to their HQs. Unlike regular Pakistan Army troops, the FC had their unique uniform. They wore black Shalwar Kameez with a maroon leather belt, white woollen socks and an orange Kohati Chappal. Since it was lunchtime, we were taken straight to the Officers’ Mess. It was an old but well kept building. The rooms were big, airy and tall. Large wooden beams supported the sloping roof of the integral veranda, once again a reminder of the colonial era. There was a big sitting room that was lined up with glass cabinets all along the walls. The cabinets were full of precious silverware. Adorning the walls were strange looking guns and swords complete with their holsters, slings, bayonets and scabbards. Such were the memorabilia in that room that viewed in isolation, the place would have certainly passed off as a military museum of the First World War. Colonel Afridi, the Commandant of Tochi Scouts was our host at the lunch. While we had food, the programme for the afternoon was discussed. After lunch, we were to proceed to the crash site in FC transports. The Army Brigade at Bannu was to be requested to send in a heavy crane to lift the wreckage and host it onto the two trucks that were to be hired to transport it to Peshawer.
The wreckage was lying at a place known as Boya. The narrow road that led to it passed through a winding valley. The turns and bends were so sharp and frequent that no sooner had we set course, I lost all sense of direction. I had flown in the area many times but this was my first chance to see the tribal countryside while traveling by road. The terrain was absolutely barren and barring a few scattered patches of wild grass, almost totally devoid of any vegetation. Irregular ridges of dry rocky mountains on either side provided intermittent relief from the blazing sun. There were no villages to be seen, only mud plastered houses in isolated groups of three or four. All the houses, even the smallest ones, resembled fortresses. On every rooftop, there was a crown like structure, the kind you find atop ancient castles and forts. Within, there was a place to sit and point your gun at the adversary through U shaped openings in the walls without exposing yourself to the enemy’s gunfire. There were no women to be seen out on the road; only small children and gun totting Pathans, with their huge turbans held securely in place.
It took us better part of an hour to reach Boya. The wreckage lay just besides the road, still smouldering. The aircraft lay inverted. It had probably been a slow speed impact with the ground as most of the aircraft was still intact. The outboard half of the left wing was missing. Since it had been a missile hit, probably on the wing, a part of it had broken off in mid air. The locals who had gathered around us soon confirmed that there was a piece of wreckage lying some distance away. Leaving the two engineers to look for any electronic gadgets, guided by the locals, Gp Capt Naseem and I set off to have a look at the other piece of wreckage. It was less than a kilometer away and lay across a narrow ravine. The water was neither cold nor very deep; nevertheless, just deep enough for the two of us to take off our flying boots and socks and roll up the lower ends of our coveralls to keep them from getting wet. Carrying our boots in our hands and carefully dodging the sharp edges of the pointed pebbles that formed the floor of the ravine, we reached the place. It was no doubt the missing part of the left wing. There was a drop tank shaped vessel which lay smoking, not far away. Failing to find anything of further interest, we returned back to the crash site. The engineers by then, had found out lot of unspent chaff and flare cartridges from the wreckage. They had also retrieved something that gave the semblance of a radio aid but was damaged. The trucks and the crane had reached by then. It took us over an hour to load everything on the trucks and send them off to Peshawer. Before leaving for Miranshah, we had tea at the Boya Officers’ Mess with Major Tariq, the Wing Commander, Boya wing of Tochi Scouts and his second in command, Captain Jan.
While inspecting the wreckage, we had looked very carefully for the remains of the pilot but had failed to find anything. The local population had already been alerted by the Scouts to look for him and had even been promised a cash reward for handing him over to them. By evening, it had been 24 hours since the crash and the pilot may well have escaped to Afghanistan by now, I thought. It was dark when we reached the Mess. Since all the others had finished their jobs for the day, they went in for a shower and dinner but I knew, my duty as the Captain of an outstation aircraft was far from over. The place being surrounded by hills, it used to get lot of valley winds. My aircraft being relatively light in weight, I had to ensure that it was properly picketed and secured for the night before I went to bed. I got hold of a JCO and told him I needed ropes. It took him sometime to arrange the ropes and then the two of us went to the aircraft. With the help of a couple of soldiers, I tied the aircraft securely and satisfied, came back to the Mess. For those of us who regard flying a light aircraft as mere fun (and I know most pilots do), it should serve as an eye opener about the difficulties and responsibilities of a light aircraft pilot. There are many times when a light aircraft pilot has to act as the ground crew, the technician and the engineer. I remember on more than one occasion having had to climb on top of the wing of a Mushak and refuel it myself since there was nobody else around qualified to do it.
That day, ironically, out of the four of us, I was the only one who had not been told before departure from Peshawer that we were to spend the night at Miranshah. As such, neither had I informed my wife of five months that I won’t be home that night nor had I carried with me anything other than the flying gear I wore. But the Scouts were great people; before I could ask them for anything, I was provided with a Shalwar Kameez and Chappal. Dead tired from the day’s activities, I took a shower and had dinner. Thinking of my wife who I knew would keep the lights on in our room in the Officers Mess, Peshawer and stay up the whole night because she was too scared of the dark, I went to bed early.
I woke up around 0700 hours in the morning and just when we were finishing the breakfast, I saw a lot of movement outside in the Mess lawns. Coming out, we saw a group of around thirty tribals, surrounding one person. The man in the middle was wearing a worn out Shalwar Kameez, faded, and with numerous patches of different colours. His feet were in a pair of ugly looking busted up oxford pattern shoes that had not seen polish in years. He wore them without socks. Disregarding his attire, he was a handsome man in his late thirties/early forties, fair and about six feet tall. He had square shoulders, a broad chest and a flat belly. Deep green eyes were perfectly in place on his tough broad face that sported a huge and well kempt, burly brown moustache. By any standards, his manly figure was not just eye catching but for a man his age, simply impressive at first sight. He was the Soviet pilot of the downed Su-25. He had ejected safely and for two nights and one day, had evaded capture probably hiding during the day and moving towards the border only at night. He had been wise enough to rid himself of any identification papers that he may have carried on his person. He had even discarded his coverall for some reason and had been caught, sleeping in a field, early in the morning in just his underwear. There was a village close to the place where he was caught and he had been discovered by one of the village women who had ventured out in the morning to relieve herself in the fields. Seeing him, she had come back running and informed the village folk who had then gone and captured the poor fellow. As the conservative Pathans must not have approved of an alien roaming around half naked amongst them, they had given him the shabby Shalwar Kameez in which he had been brought to the Mess.
As the Commandant got busy in informing the FC HQs and the authorities in Islamabad about the capture, Gp Capt Naseem and I had an unofficial interrogation session with the prisoner. The three of us sat in one of our rooms and we started off. He behaved as if he couldn’t understand a word of English but I had a feeling he actually did. He gave his name as Alexander. Gp Capt Naseem pointed to his shoulders and asked about his rank. He said Pot Pulkownik. Reading our blank faces, he went on to explain Kapitaan, Majoure, Pulkownik, Pot Pulkownik. We understood he was a Gp Capt. Most of the conversation that followed was done using the sign language and also drawing figures and shapes on a piece of paper. He divulged or at least we understood that he was 40 and commanding a wing of Soviet fighter aircraft. We took the names of all the Soviet fighter/bomber aircraft that we knew and he said he had flown all of them. Just for fun, Gp Capt Naseem even told him that it was he who had shot him down to which he replied with a big smile and thumbs up. When asked about his family, he explained that he had a wife and two kids.
While we were busy talking to the prisoner, arrangements had been made to take him to Islamabad. Since Miranshah runway was not fit enough, a C-130 with people from the ISI was positioned at Kohat. An Allouette-III helicopter landed at Miranshah to take him to Kohat. He looked disturbed as handcuffed and blind folded, he was hoisted on the helicopter by the ISI escorts.
While in Islamabad, he was interrogated by the air force and ISI people and finally after about eight days of captivity, handed over to the Soviet Embassy in Islamabad. During those days, the Soviet Union was repeatedly leveling allegations that Pakistani pilots were taking active part in the war by flying alongside Afghan pilots from within Afghanistan. Just to tell the world that in fact, it was the other way round and it were the Soviet pilots who were attacking targets in Pakistani territory, the Government of Pakistan made sure that the handing over of the pilot (whose full name was Alexander Rutskoi) to the Soviet Embassy was given due coverage in the evening news Khabarnama by Pakistan television.
In the evening, I took off with my passengers from Miranshah and landed in Peshawer at 1800 hours. As far as I was concerned, the story of Alexander Rutskoi had ended but it did not. Many years after the break up of Soviet Union, there was a failed coup attempt in Russia by the Vice President who was captured and jailed. His name was Alexander Rutskoi. I came to know only when the news hit the headlines and I saw him on the TV. I recognized him instantly. He had certainly aged and put on lot of weight but still retained his charisma. His story went like this. After going back from the war, he had become a war hero as besides his other achievements, it had been the second time that he had been shot down and had survived during the same war. Gaining countrywide respect and fame, he had left the air force and joined politics. Charismatic as he was, it did not take him long to rise to the post of the country’s Vice President and then, probably aiming a bit too high before time, Alexander Rutskoi fell.
Following are some excerpts about "Aleksander Vladimir Rutskoi" taken from the internet:
Former governor Rutskoi had a history of disloyalty and a reputation for acting independently of the Kremlin. As vice president of Russia, he staged an attempted coup against President Boris Yeltsin in 1993. He was also friendly with Boris Berezovsky, a Russian Jewish oligarch and a Putin enemy. On a visit to Israel in the early 1990s Rutskoi said his mother was Jewish.
Rutskoi, Aleksander
Russian politician, founder of the reformist Communists for Democracy group, and vice president of the Russian Federation 1991-93. During the abortive August 1991 coup he led the Russian delegation to rescue Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev from his forced confinement in the Crimea. In September 1993, with Ruslan Khasbulatov, he led the insurrection against Russian president Boris Yeltsin. Both men were arrested and imprisoned but then released in 1994 on the instructions of the federal assembly. Shortly after his release, Rutskoi, as leader of the Russian Social Democratic People's Party, professed his support for a reconstituted Soviet Union. In August 1996 Rutskoi became a leading member of the communist-led Patriotic Popular Union of Russia. He was elected governor of Kursk in southwestern Russia in October 1996.
A former air officer and highly decorated Afghan War veteran, Rutskoi became increasingly critical of the Yeltsin administration, especially its price liberalization reforms. In 1992 Yeltsin placed Rutskoi in charge of agricultural reform.
Aleksandr Rutskoi, vice-king?
In spring 1991, during the Third Russian Congress, one conservative deputy threw the leadership of the Communist Party into a state of shock. On behalf of 179 members of a new faction called "Communists for Democracy," he announced full support for the Supreme Soviet of Russia and its chairman, condemned the mass media for defaming Boris Yeltsin, and strongly supported establishing the post of president of the republic. After walking off the platform, he added: "Are there any sensible people at this Congress with party membership cards by their hearts? There are such people, and many of them."
This man was Aleksandr Rutskoi, a 50-year-old colonel, and a hero in the Afghanistan war. A pilot, he was shot down twice over the country to which the Soviet Union was offering active "national assistance." Just a year before switching to Yeltsin's side, Rutskoi, a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Russia, had denounced Andrei Sakharov and the democrats in general while praising the avowed fascists of the Pamyat organization.
Rutskoi's apparent break with his past naturally provoked wild rejoicing in the democratic camp. His previous mistakes and red-brown leanings were promptly and generously forgotten. The pages of liberal newspapers were filled with fawning interviews with the dashing colonel. And when Yeltsin entered the race for the post of Russian president, he chose Rutskoi as his running mate.
During the August coup, Vice President Rutskoi played a conspicuous role as the one in charge of the defense of the White House. And it was he who led the special group sent by Russia to free Mikhail Gorbachev from his Crimean imprisonment, an operation he later described on TV, in a wonderfully vivid manner.
The general's star-he was named a major-general after the coup-rose higher and higher, with no obstacles in its way.
But Rutskoi's military roots soon began to show. He began forming detachments of the national guard, and boys with machine guns seemed to take up permanent residence in the anteroom of his office. "Rutskoi's people" began assuming new responsibilities hardly appropriate for a vice president's range of activities-although these are only vaguely defined in the constitution. Papers began disappearing from the sealed-up premises of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. Furthermore, a large number of former KGB officers began gathering around Rutskoi.
As the supporting cast for Rutskoi's role as vice-king played their roles with great exaggeration, Rutskoi's reckless abandon seemed less commendable in a government post than it had been on the barricades. Yeltsin pushed the general back into the shadows.
Having tasted fame, Rutskoi found this difficult to accept, and his friends urged him on as well. In January 1992, despite the formal censure of his own party, Rutskoi gave a speech at the all-Russian "congress of patriotic forces," which was organized in an attempt to unify anti-Yeltsin forces. Questions remain about whether the vice president has the right to follow such an independent line.
In the end, Rutskoi was handed the agriculture portfolio, the traditional expression of deep disfavor in Russian politics. Some "experts" have publicly announced that Rutskoi has "found himself" in this new position and that he has become the last hope for the rebirth of the Russian peasantry.
Najam Khan
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Good article guru8904...it has a good narration of events from the past.The author's name isnt mentiond?
MastanKhan
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Gentlemen and ladies,
It is time to bring this thread back to life----all those who bragged about PAF doing their duty and shooting down the russian aircraft----well---what you got now---. We have a strike inside of pakistan and 26 soldiers have been killed----can we wake up our brave and active air force!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What do you people say.
Side note---I know that a pilot has to do his job---as they did in the 80's---that is what they hired and trained for---. My objection was towards the bragging rights that the paf wanted to maintain and most of you wanted to follow through---. It is fine that the men do the jopbs they are selected for---but to strut around in your best of the best fighter interceptor aircraft of that time against the dirt-eaters was an issue.
Pfpilot
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As the Iranian and Iraqi airforces of the 1980s proved, an air force is only as effective as the leadership in and around it. Were the PAF allowed to function as a separate entity, and didn't have to be involved in the political game...we would have NATO aircraft being engaged. But the reality is, this is all about politics and it always will be.
Our military leadership, regardless of how much bravado it shows, relies heavily on American aid to keep itself just strong enough to combat the civilians within who want a less militaristic nation and separatists who only want a more equal part in the nation. For real adversaries...well for them, we just give speeches about what we can and will do to anyone that dares speak ill of us...the results of which are right in front of us.
While their planes sit on the tarmac, our talented pilots watch the news of Pakistani airspace violated over and over again. We are, at this point a helpless nation. Fight NATO and turn into Iraq 2.0, defy them and separate yourself from their mission...well that just wouldn't suit our leadership...who will fund their mansions and personal goals.
MastanKhan
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Pfpilot,
You know---you are absolutely right---it is all about the consequences----the taking down of russian planes by the f 16's was to justify the sale of those planes---it was to show the U S that we are capable and trustworthy operators---.
If we had a stronger force backing pakistan right now---paf would take similiar action---alas we are only as strong as our weakest link.
You know---you are absolutely right---it is all about the consequences----the taking down of russian planes by the f 16's was to justify the sale of those planes---it was to show the U S that we are capable and trustworthy operators---.
If we had a stronger force backing pakistan right now---paf would take similiar action---alas we are only as strong as our weakest link.
Pfpilot
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That is really very true about the Americans. They will obviously never give their top of the line technology, but because the American technology is so far ahead of the rest of the world...even the stripped down f-16s they sold us (relative to their own), were lethal aircraft that made the Russian fighter bombers look like choppers.
In our age old "super power-envy", we have let America gain a position of strength, not because of it's own maneuvering, but in our haste to offer any concession the holy father requires...only way out of it, is to have the only other power in the region (China) help us...ironic eh...we will just keep pawning our dignity off to whomever is strong enough to protect us. We're like the child that never got any attention growing up and will do anything to impress the father. Granted, the Chinese won't do anything, but it is just how our leadership functions, that it will only see this way out.
If the goal is to fight this war with the Americans, forget the Eastern front, devote all the resources in fighting a real war, instead of worrying about a potential war on the other side. On the other hand, if we want no part of it...get those fighters in the air and let them "accidentally shoot down a NATO aircraft" in these friendly fire incidents our Western friends constantly refer to. They will not push you over, if you don't let them...then again, they may beat you into pulp...sigh...the Indians really got it with their non alignment stance.
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