Dear Friends,
Here is a funny short story from my book "Dad's Air Force Yarns":

Chapter 5: The Plane that did not Glide.

DAD's Air Force Yarns: The Plane that did not glide.

Bamrauli, the Air force station at Allahabad was "home" to No.29 Wing commanded by an acerbic old Sikh Group Captain – who stayed in the officer's mess in bachelor quarters. His daughters, wife and rest of the family absolutely refused to stay in this "back-water".

Air force Station Bamrauli was in fact, a Command Head Quarter of the Central Air Command. It had a full-fledged Air marshal as Air Officer Commanding (AOC), with three Principal staff officers of Air Commodore and Air-Vice Marshal rank.

Attached to No. 29 Wing was just one squadron – or rather somewhat less than half of one squadron.. The "Camel Squadron" No.48 flew in 1973, Canadian Fairchild Packet transports. These were squat ugly twin boom piston engine planes with a cavernous cargo belly big enough to hold an elephant. Which they often did! They were, in spite of the shortcomings, the backbone of the Indian Air force's logistics and vanguard of the Strategic Transport capability. 

The Defense ministry's R&D wing had ingeniously fitted an Orpheus Turbojet engine. There were plenty of these around – they were used on a majority of the Gnats, Ajeets, Hunters and even the Indian designed HF-24 Marut combat airplanes used the Orpheus Engine. The engine was mounted on a pylon above the roof. This engine was added to give additional power to climb over the Pir Panjal and mighty Himalayas. In the uppermost corner of India's map, these brave pilots and their planes serviced the highest Airfields in the world – Leh, Chusul and Thoise. The last at 19,500 feet above sea level. And, Daulat Beg Oldi, just 10 kms from the Karakoram Pass into China.

A multi engine plane is better than a single and three is better than two. But what with the ageing condition of the planes, what would one do if all three engines failed? Or worse still got disabled in combat?

The old DC-3 Dakota could glide. You could even do a "wheels –up Belly landing" and survive reasonably unless there is fire.

Wg.Cdr. N.P. Singh, reading the manufacturers' manual was quite convinced that the only way to prove the manual right was to give it a real physical test. Of course, the Wing and Command brass could have none of it – especially in a squadron where only three out of a total strength of a dozen aircraft could be found airworthy at any single point of time.
N.P. Singh was the quintessential pilot of the old Indian Air force in its halcyon days. Known to have got into trouble with his superiors mainly due indiscretions in the bar, NP had been spending the last few years oscillating between "Wg.Cdr."  and "Sq.Ldr."

What always saved him was that he was rated "Master Green A" as a pilot – the highest possible in the Indian Air force. Since he would have to be checked by the Medical Officer before take-off, NP always managed to sweat out the previous night's drinking with a vigorous game of squash at 4.30 a.m. It was standard procedure with most pilots.

"Drink till midnight. Get fully sloshed. But get up and play a round of squash at 4.30, an egg-nog with a lime-soda and you'll have a smooth take-off." They said.

NPS took off as usual flying straight into the rising sun, banking over the Ganga-Yamuna Sangam and circling widely into a climb. The aircraft, C-Charlie had just been put together by cannibalizing from other grounded planes. The plane wore a maritime color, but one wing was un-symmetrically painted in desert camouflage bands. NP Singh as "test Pilot" took up the plane alone. He climbed up to 15,000 feet right over the Air Traffic Control Tower a small speck high in the sky. He reported his position over the Radio Telephone.

"C-Charlie calling, Bamrauli ATC can you read? Come in. over"
"Reading You, C-Charlie, over". Responded Sq. Ldr. Ahuja, the ATC from the Control Tower.
"OK then listen. I'm going to run a test. I want you to record my transmits. Acknowledge. Over"
"C-Charlie explain. What Test? Is it sanctioned? Over."
"Just listen. Old chap switch on the recorder. I'll be on send only. You can't call me back over and out".

Sq. Ldr. Ahuja, the Air Traffic Controller was in a fix. He'd hoped for a quiet routine morning's flying activity – enough flying to entertain a surreptitious visitor but no disasters. Now he had one. To see the morning flying activity, the spectacular sunrise and the morning song birds from the panoramic view that could be had from the Air Traffic Control Tower, had come my Sister No.2. She had come wholly unauthorized and at Ahuja's personal invitation. The night before he had sort of monopolized Sister No.2's attentions at the Mess Dinner. (Dining and Dance with band).

"Now there's going to be a bloody big flap," he wailed.

First, the emergency signal would have to hoist, the crash crews scrambled and in the meantime the whole top brass of IAF Bamrauli would be trooping in. There would be a spectacular crash – which would be interesting, but not the laborious Court Of Enquiry that would follow.

All this was tedious but immediately Sq. Ldr. Ahuja didn't know what to do about Unauthorized Person in the form of my Sister No.2 in this Restricted Area.

"I'll run down and call Dad," she suggested helpfully and slipped away before Ahuja knew what happened. But she ran and told my "gang" of delinquents- sons of the Indian Air Force Officers living in the Air Force Camp at Bamrauli. The whole gang got together sort of gate crashed into the Airfield. Within a few minutes there was a crowd – the C.O.s of the Wing and the Rescue Unit, and the whole command HQ brass. And, of course, my gang of cheeky boys ranging in ages from the 8th. Class to Post Graduate College.

By now Ahuja had come down to the tarmac where the crowd had assembled with a hand telephone – (probably the grandfather of mobiles). The conversation went something like this with NP Singh's voice crackling in a deadpan emotionless commentary...

NPS: ..... so to test out this statement in the manual that these Packets can glide, I am going to do this test and shall be continuing to give you my observations as long as possible even if the test fails..
SASO (Air Cdr. Joshi): Ahuja, can't you call the blighter down?
Ahuja: He's switched the receiver RT off, Sir.
SASO: Fire a Verey Flare.
Ahuja: We used the last Verey Flare, Sir, when that Gnat from Gorakhpur wanted to ake an emergency landing.
NPS: "... I shall be conducting the test by switching off each of the three engines one by one. They are now at full Power. Altitude 16,200 and steady..."
SMSO (Dad): Bugger's blown his rocker. If this Packet goes, the squadron might as well disband. I'll be down to just one serviceable aircraft in 48 Squadron.
CO: No.26 RSU (Rescue & Salvage Unit): Well the fire crew at least will hope for a crash. I've got them all rushed into a panic thrice this month and nothing happened.
SASO: (to Ahuja): But I just thought you got a whole crate just some time ago. What happened to a crate of Verey Flares?
Ahuja: Sir, that was before Divali, Independence Day, Air force Day, Squadron Day you know how it is.
Present PMC (President Mess Committee): And all the Farewells, Promotion Parties and Ladies Nights too, Sir. You know, our Officers Mess gives the best fireworks at evening parties.
Ahuja: And the Green and Red Verey Flares are much better than the best Divali Fireworks.

Since most of my "gang" of friends from the colony were there, we added on to the general confusion.

IInd.B.Com: Hey guys, there's going to be a crash. Is there going to be a Crash Dad?
CO, 26 RSU (His Dad): Let's hope so for the best, son.
Inter Fail: (Younger brother) Kuch nahi hone walla hai. Nothing is going to happen. No such luck. Last week too we came out hoping to see the Gnat crash, but it didn't.
Under Graduate Student: Hope it crashes in the fields. We can run up and pick up souvenir bits.
Post Graduate Student: And bits of NP Singh Uncle.
8th. Class: Do you think Uncle will become "Kebab"?
10th.Class: (Deep pessimism) No chance. Just watch. He's a great pilot. NPS uncle will land safely, like that Gnat from Gorakhpur ... when all of us came running ... hoping to see the crash!
Most readers can understand Military Officers having a casual, if not morbid, attitude towards life and death. But they may find it strange that sons of military officers develop even more morbidity accompanied by a black sense of humor.

NPS ... am carrying only half fuel tanks, there is no crew and only ballast load. So if the plane begins to glide without power, I shall record the rate of descent...
Dad: He'll fall like a stone.
SASO: Hope he does. Bloody well serves him right.
NPS:"...Switching Port throttle down. Flying steady hundred knots above stalling speed..."
Ahuja: (to the SASO) Sir, AOC.
SASO: (Saluting): It's NPS, Sir. Going to prang the plane, he is. Can't talk him down too.
AOC: Well, let's see what happens.
NPS: ... Port Engine fully off. Loosing speed. Slight pull to one side. Now loosing more speed ... loosing height too .... Turning round over you ... 15,500 feet. ...
AOC: Bet he gets through, Joshi. How much.
SASO: You'll loose, Sir. If it gets into a spin-fall you can't pull out. Besides, how is he going to get the engines restarted in the air? The Cartridges work only half the time.
NPS... now lowering starboard engine. Loosing height ...loosing height much faster...14,300 .... 14,200.... Engine switched off... switching Turbojet off.... Loosing height.... Now falling in a straight line.... No evidence of any lift on the wings.... No gliding..... now going into a spin.....13,000 and going down fast ....12,700...
Ahuja: there he is, Sir, I think he is going to fall right on our heads.
AOC:... won't do much good with hard hats either.
NPS:... now falling below 10,000 ... there is now response on the control surfaces...now falling to 9,200 ... I shall continue to fall upto 5,000 before I try to restart the engines....
SASO: Better get the blood wagons ready.
CO,26 RSU: they're in place Sir.

At 5,000 feet NPS finally decided to get out of his adventure. The engines roared to life but the Plane barely settled into level flight at just 500 feet above the ground and circled around the Airfield.

The Packet landed safely, but was furiously chased by three Fire Tender trucks and an Ambulance. It trundled up to the parking bay and the engines shut down. The hatch opened and the pilot got down. The firemen who had their hoses poised like bazookas ready to project strong beams of water and fire fighting foam warily moved their aim at the Pilot in their total dumbfounded confusion.

The Pilot got down and marched up to the AOC and Dad, saluted smartly.

"It doesn't glide, Sir" said Wg.Cdr. N.P. Singh. "the manual is all wrong. I need to send a report directly to the manufacturers."

"What you need," said the AOC affectionately, "is a good drink. And so do I."

"And so do we, Sir", chorused everybody around.

Note: At Air Commodore Aero Models, we are developing a 2.2 M Wing Span RC Model of Fairchild Packet – powered by two propellers and one Jet in typical No. 48 Squadron (Camels) design of the Indian Air Force in the 1970s.

Wow. Great stuff.
Look forward to more...
And Welcome to the forum, Sir.
Regards.

Amazing 

Thousands   to my nation and our forces protecting it 

This is a golden thread.

HI,

There is a movie on the Fairchild Packet, Flight of the Phoenix (2004). Nice movie.

regds

The Fairchild Packet parked in Aviation Museum in Delhi. Never saw a 3rd engine on it. This was custom built by Indians.

Quote from: sbajare on May 17, 2019, 03:51:46 PM
The Fairchild Packet parked in Aviation Museum in Delhi. Never saw a 3rd engine on it. This was custom built by Indians.

I suppose that thing on top is the jet engine(?)

It was initially made in 1965 , and remade in 2004.

Both are outstanding .