Air Marshal (R) Harish Masand says: Clearing the air-Lessons on accidents from the past

02 Jul 2025

(Representational image of IAF MiG–29. Photo by Simon Watson)

On 24 January 2015, we celebrated 29 years of the MiG–29 in the IAF with a reunion of the people who had served in the MiG–29 units, organised by the Dy C–in–C, SFC, Air Marshal KP Nair under the guidance of the current chief, Air Chief Marshal Arup Raha, who was one of the 12 pilots trained in the Soviet Union on the aircraft and thus a pioneer in the fleet. A very large percentage of the officers, pilots as well as engineers, attended the event in the WAC Mess though some did miss out and were sorely missed. I was particularly delighted to be there to renew old friendships as also to meet many younger officers who had served in the MiG–29 units after I had left the fleet and even after I had retired from the Air Force. Their energy and enthusiasm in making the evening a memorable one touched us older folks while the music made even old bones move easily.

First lesson, therefore, was to spend more time with younger folks to let their youth rub off on you. Some of the younger pilots, whom I had never met earlier, came up to me in the course of evening amidst the din of the great music and loud chatter and wanted to know more about the early days of the 29 in the IAF and my views on the issues, usually with reference to being the surviving CO of the first two squadrons and on my flying the 29 that they had heard about. It was during these conversations that I realised the myths that had developed around my flying, particularly display flying, over the years through word of mouth. I finally came to the conclusion that it was best to put the facts straight for the sake of posterity and history.

The other issue that came up but on which I have written in some places and would write some more separately is the reliability and employment of the MiG–29 and its systems. The most surprising issue was the story doing the rounds in the younger circles which led to a belief that I had flown the displays on the MiG–29 in a manner that somehow pushed Joe Bakshi on the Mirage 2000 and Rakesh Madan on the MiG–29 to try and emulate my performance which, unfortunately, led to the untimely loss of their lives. As a matter of fact, one of the bolder younger officers asked me directly if I had done this pushing on purpose. Nothing could be further from the truth because in both the cases I had talked to them on different occasions and cautioned them, going to the extent of telling them that, in my opinion, if they did not desist, things may go wrong one day. I had written this piece earlier and sent it out but it obviously did not get read by many. One of them who had been in the first lot on the MiG–29s and had served with me in many tenures recently even asked me if I had trained Rakesh Madan for low–level aerobatics and why he crashed. That has prompted me to publish this article so that the aviation community, and particularly the MiG–29 community, knows the true story. I would take the case of Joe Bakshi first.

The Joe Bakshi Story

In 1987, I was commanding 28 Sqn. However, we received our new aircraft only in October 1987 after 47 Sqn received its full complement of aircraft. Apart from organising the squadron in this time from June 1987 while the other pilots were doing their pre–conversion course in the MCF, I was doing a couple of sorties with 47 Sqn to keep my hand in and had also been selected by C– in–C SWAC, then Air Mshl “Polly” Mehra, for low level aerobatics on the aircraft. On 25 September 1987, I was loaned two aircraft from 47 Sqn and flew to Hindon from Poona with Rathindranath as my No. 2 to do the MiG–29 display over Palam for the Air Force Day Parade on 8 October 1987. Soon thereafter, Joe Bakshi arrived with his Mirage–2000, also for the display. Almost everyone remarked that it was rather unusual to have both aircraft perform in the same event at the same time for a variety of reasons that I need not go into here. In any case, such decisions were not taken at our level.

Wing Commander Ramesh ‘Joe’ Bakshi was an outstanding pilot and then CO No.7 Squadron ‘BattleAxe’. He lost his life in a fatal Mirage 2000 crash on 8 October 1989, during the 57th Air Force Day celebration at Palam, New Delhi. (Images from Twitter/X

Joe and I went back a long time, having served together in Adampur earlier in the 70s when he was in 1 Sqn and I was in 101. We had also competed against each other for the best FCL in 1984 in Jamnagar and were good friends. This was the first time when both the MiG–29 and the Mirage were parked together in the dispersal in Hindon. The difference between the size, lines and finish of the aircraft was so strikingly obvious that I coined the term DD or “Delicate Darling” for the Mirage. Joe laughed at the nomenclature and took it in good spirit. However, some others did not, as was obvious when the two aircraft came together again in Poona for performance evaluation and joint exercise. But that is a separate story and I have already narrated it in an earlier article in VAYU entitled “Rivals from the Same Team”.

The Clean and Smoother, Shiny surface of the Mirage-2000 is evident here as compared to the MiG-29

Joe was a non–drinker but, the day he arrived, we met in the Mess and spent a good evening together filled with Joe cracking his latest jokes with his usual panache. During the course of the evening, I took the lead in dwelling on both of us performing during the AF Day Parade and the rivalry it could generate with the natural tendency to outdo the other. I told him that I only had about 25 hours on the MiG–29 and barely 30 total hours of flying since we had parted in Jamnagar in September 1984, as I had been in Staff College after that, while he had over 400 hours on the Mirage–2000. It was, therefore, natural that he would be able to do much better than me in taking the aircraft to its limits. On top of that, the Mirage had a fly–by–wire system claiming a sharper response to control inputs and safety at high angles of attack or “alpha” while the MiG–29 had the normal hydraulic controls and depended on the pilot’s ability to manoeuvre and control it well. On the flip side, the MiG–29 had tremendous thrust and a much better power to weight ratio, which, in conjunction with its aerodynamic configuration, enabled it to do certain manoeuvres that a Mirage could not do or sustain. As a good friend, therefore, I suggested to him that we should avoid copying each other’s display profile; actually just stick to what we had practiced at our home bases and avoid the tendency to out– perform the other.

As a matter of fact, I told him that I would even avoid watching his rehearsals to avoid the temptation of copying a little here and there and he should try to do the same. Joe agreed with me and we continued with our distinct display profiles in the rehearsals over Hindon as well as over Palam. As it happened, Joe used to take off for his rehearsal over base as I landed and by the time I taxied back to dispersal, most of his display used to be over and I would walk back from the aircraft without watching his display. One day, I got talking to the technical airmen after switching off when one of the men pointed at the Mirage and asked me what the Mirage was doing so far away. I could not help but look in that direction and saw that Joe was obviously in the finishing manoeuvres. I found him in a downward Charlie but 3–4 km away across the runway in the far right corner of the airfield where the aircraft would have been barely visible to an average spectator from the viewing area. Though Joe must have finished this manoeuvre and pulled out at a safe height, the aircraft disappeared behind the trees on the other side of the runway for a few seconds before it emerged running in towards the spectator stand for a pull up, Vertical Charlie and exit.

That night, I sat down with Joe again and told him how I happened to see his downward Charlie and what I felt about the manoeuvre. I clearly remember telling him that, in my opinion, the spectator is there for the thrill and to enjoy the show. Even the professional is looking for the capabilities of the aircraft and the finesse with which the aircraft is flown but nobody is looking for a scare. I elaborated by saying that while he must have pulled out by a safe height after the downward Charlie, the way the aircraft disappeared behind the trees because of the distance and the angle of view, it was scary and the manoeuvre was not worthwhile. I also told him that if he must do this manoeuvre, he should do it a little closer to the audience where the aircraft would be bigger and visible all the time and fix the number of rolls and the height, say 3000 feet, from where the aircraft was capable of pulling out by 1000 feet even though our minimum height in the display was 300 feet. Thereafter, with a controlled descent in the last 20 degrees of the pull out, he could ease the aircraft down to 300 feet while accelerating for the next manoeuvre. Joe took this advice well and without any rancour while agreeing to keep it in mind.

IAF Mirage 2000. Photo by PSC for representational purposes only.

As it happened, soon after this conversation, I was called by the AOC– in–C WAC, Air Marshal MM Singh, on 7 October 1987 at the Hindon sports complex and told to go back to Poona whenever I wanted since they had decided to cancel the MiG–29 display for the AF Day function next day. The C–in–C told me that the reason was some objections on displaying the MiG–29 in the Air Force Day parade when it had not yet been formally inducted into the Air Force. The formal induction ceremony finally took place in the first week of December in Poona where the Defence Minister, Mr. KC Pant, was the chief guest. There were no further rehearsals and I never saw Joe perform the manoeuvre again till the final fatal day on 8 October 1989. For the two years in between, all the low– level aerobatic displays for the Air Force Day parade, visiting delegations as well as Air Power Demonstration in March 1989 were performed by the MiG–29 in any case, as decided by Air HQ.

I think the way Joe performed that manoeuvre on 8 October 1989 is reasonably well known and the display itself should be available on video with Air HQ for those interested in reviewing it. I was in the audience that day, from Adampur, to receive my Vayu Sena Medal (VM). Joe flew the display exceptionally well and we all enjoyed it till the penultimate manoeuvre where he performed the downward Charlie about 1.5 km to the left and about 300m in front of the audience almost along Palam Road, placing him at around 10 O’clock to us. In this manoeuvre, after two full turns, he hesitated for a fraction of a second and then went for a third turn. As he initiated that third turn, I popped out of my chair and muttered, “OMG, he is gone”. My wife, Malini, pulled me and sat me down in my chair so as not to alarm the rest of the audience.

I am sure many professionals in the audience had realised by now what was to come next. By the time Joe finished the third turn he was too low and, despite a sharp high “G” pull out, could not avoid hitting the ground about a kilometre short of the display area with splinters from his aircraft hitting some of the aircraft on static display right in front of the audience. The tea after the show was naturally somber and people spoke in hushed tones with most of us having lost our appetite for any of the eats that were laid out. That afternoon, at the customary High Tea in the Air House, the Prime Minister, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi, came over and spoke to Malini and me including on this accident and Anatoly Kvotchor’s ejection from the MiG–29 in the last Paris Air Show.

Ramu Sir, Malini and Self with Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi-08 October 1989, Courtesy Air Mshl Pratap Rao, then Director Intelligence

I said very little on Joe’s accident saying that Joe, perhaps, misjudged the altitude and the Inquiry would soon show what had really gone wrong but gave him my best analysis on the claimed bird–hit on Kvotchor’s MiG– 29 based on the 5 second clip shown on TV by Doordarshan. Remember, there was no cable or YouTube those days and Doordarshan’s reception depended on the day, met conditions and the signal strength put out by the local TV transmitter based on the mood of the guy in charge. Later that evening, while drying my sweat from the afternoon tea on a warm October day in WAC Mess room, without air conditioning for us lesser mortals, I got a call from Air Cmde SR Deshpande, then AOC Hindon and who was now the Presiding Officer of the CoI into Joe’s accident, to tell me to delay my departure from Delhi to Adampur, where I was COO, by a couple of days and come and see him at Palam the next morning at 0900h. The first thing Deshu Sir asked me, when I reported to him the next morning, was to describe to him how I would perform such a manoeuvre in the MiG–29 since I was doing such displays, with the heights, number of turns and “G” during pull out etc. I told him that while I did not do a downward Charlie as a display manoeuvre, I normally did half a turn after recovery from the tail slide to face the audience since I performed the tail slide and the hammer stall for recovery heading away from the audience. The rate at which I rolled depended on the height at which I recovered from the hammer stall with 3000 feet or 900m as the cut off for my pull out from the vertical dive. Thereafter, I eased the aircraft down to 100m while positioning for the next manoeuvre.

In the MiG–29, since the HUD was comparatively crude and the display was not always clearly legible particularly for an analogue man like me, I referred head–down to the pressure altimeter with a quick glance as I settled into a vertical dive after the hammer stall. In the case of the Mirage, most pilots I knew relied more on the HUD. So, in Joe’s case, I asked Deshu Sir to presume that he had set his cut off altitude to, say, 2500 feet. In a vertical dive, depending on the sun’s position and the glare on the HUD, it would not be too difficult to misread a 2 for a 3, particularly when things were happening fast, and think that the altitude was 3000 something when it was actually just 2000 something. Based on my visuals, I had estimated that Joe was just above 2500 feet when he hesitated and close to 1500 feet when he started the pull out that day. Deshu Sir asked me to accompany him to the crash site thereafter and we had the FDR recovered. Sometime later, Deshu Sir was gracious enough to tell me that the hesitation in rolls was at about 2600 feet and the pull out commencement was at 1543 feet to be exact, if I remember correctly after all these years. At the speed Joe was at, it was impossible to pull out from a vertical dive in just 1500 feet. So, was it trying to emulate me or just a simple misread of a 2 for a 3 on the HUD that cost Joe his life that day in a manoeuvre that should have been avoided?

IAF MiG–29. Photo by Simon Watson for representational purposes only.

The Madan Story

In Rakesh Madan’s case, I will need to give a little more background. Rakesh Madan joined 47 Sqn sometime in late 1987, I think, and was Day Ops by mid–1988. Air Cmde IS Bindra had taken over Air Force Station Poona from Air Cmde JP Singh in April 1988 and made it very clear that he did not like me on the very day he took over, for reasons I still don’t know since I had never served under or with him before. But, that’s another story. Anyway, sometime in 1988, the AOC called for a meeting on the visit of NDA cadets to the base. Therein, he announced that this time, 47 Squadron would put up an aerobatic display for the visit since my 28 Sqn, was hogging all the limelight doing such displays so far. Even a cat has only nine lives, as they say, and I had no desire to keep overdoing such displays so I was quite okay with this break. On the day of the visit, we watched the display from the squadron tarmac, like everyone else on the base. It was very obvious to me that Rakesh Madan had neither planned his low–level display nor practiced it. In one manoeuvre, while doing a roll along the runway, he barrelled and lost a significant amount of height barely managing to avoid hitting the ground.

That evening, I was in the Mess library picking up some books when Rakesh also came in. I sat him down with me for a few minutes and told him that while I had no authority to tell him anything since he didn’t belong to my squadron, I felt that I had to speak on the display issue with him, as a senior, elder brother and more experienced person in this area. Rakesh did not object and listened to me. I explained to him that there were two kinds of pilots in my opinion; combat pilots and display pilots, and it was not necessary that a good combat pilot could also be a good display pilot. I further told him that he had a good reputation as a hardworking combat pilot but what he did that morning in the display scared me and had, perhaps, scared him too. Rakesh was honest enough to admit this and I advised him to lay off display flying for his own safety. Rakesh agreed and I didn’t see him try and do any displays thereafter, at least till I got posted out as COO Adampur in June 1989. Unfortunately, he did write off one aircraft, KB 714 if I remember correctly, by going off the runway during the landing run in June 1989 just before I left on posting. The aircraft was written off and has been with the MiG–29 MCF/TETTRA ever since. I was told the reason given by Rakesh was that during the landing run, his hand accidentally moved one of the throttles to max causing an adverse yaw and the aircraft to swerve off the runway. Whatever be the cause, it did indicate that Rakesh had some problems and needed to be watched.

On 16 November 1990, I flew with Sqn Ldr Ravi Kumar in a MiG–23 trainer from Adampur to Jodhpur to attend the funeral of Wg Cdr Chakravorty, a dear friend of ours, in Uttarlai. “Chaks” had just lost his life in a night accident in a MiG–21B in the Sqn that he was commanding. On the return from Uttarlai, I got a ride in Air Mshl Ramachandran’s, then SASO, SWAC, helicopter back to Jodhpur. Ramu Sir had earlier commanded 28 Sqn and I had the honour of hosting him along with many other senior officers during the silver jubilee celebrations of 28 Sqn in Poona in early 1988. Before we landed in Jodhpur, Ramu Sir asked me to read something he would send me overnight, have idli–dosas with “Amma”, as his wife was popularly known, and him the next morning for breakfast and then leave for Adampur. Ramu Sir’s wish was my command, not only because he was SASO but also a professional and a man I respected highly. Accordingly, I sat up till 0330h rapid reading through the Inquiry proceedings, presided by AVM Milind Shankar, on Rakesh Madan’s fatal accident in Poona on 10 October 1990, if I remember the date correctly after all these years.

It transpired that during the Air Force Day parade of October 1990, Rakesh Madan was detailed as the main pilot with KT Sebastian as the stand–by for the low–level aerobatics display by a MiG–29. Rakesh had obviously gotten back into the display game. Reportedly, on the first day of the rehearsals in Delhi, Western Air Command decided to put KT as the main with Rakesh as the stand–by. The second rehearsal was reportedly watched by the C–in–C WAC, Air Marshal Prithi Singh, who ordered that Rakesh would not do any further rehearsals and accordingly informed the VCAS in Air HQ, then Air Mshl “Nimmi” Suri. Unfortunately, none at any level took further action on this. The recipe for disaster was already in place. Rakesh may still have escaped since he was posted out to DSSC as DS and supposed to leave Poona around mid–October. On 8/9 of October, immediately after his return from Delhi, he was inexplicably pushed onto the stage one last time to do a display for the visiting Russian delegation before leaving for DSSC, Wellington. It also emerged from the Inquiry that the AOC–in–C, Air Mshl Babi Dey, visited Poona to inspect the arrangements being made for the Russian visit on the 9th of October, witnessed the rehearsal put up by Rakesh, and asked for some improvements.

IAF MiG–29. Photo by Simon Watson for representational purposes only

Hereafter comes an amazing tale. The COO, Gp Capt Adi Ghandhi, claimed in the Inquiry that he took the decision to add a then prohibited manoeuvre, a derry turn, to improve the horizontal display without informing the AOC, then Air Cmde S Krishnaswamy or “Kicha”, as he was better known in the Air Force. Kicha claimed that he was not even aware of the inclusion of this manoeuvre and, at the time of the rehearsal, he was in the Officers’ Mess supervising the layout of the dining table for the sit– down dinner. After I had left Poona in June 1989 for Adampur, Air HQ had banned both the derry turn as well as the tail slide that I used to display. Be that as it may, the briefing and parameters for this manoeuvre were also strange. KT stated in the Inquiry that he still followed the briefing and guidelines left behind by then Wg Cdr, you guessed it, the author and villain of this piece, Harish Masand with Arup Raha who was trained by me before I left for Adampur. Going back a little further, around December 1988, I had verbally mentioned to Adi Ghandhi that I would finish two years of my command of the Sqn in mid–1989 and my stand–by aerobatic pilot, Ramesh Goyal, would also go to Staff College for the course in June 1989. So, could I train two other pilots for aerobatics displays on the 29 before I leave? Adi and I had a good equation.

He was my elder brother’s course–mate and I always treated him like an elder brother. When nothing happened till about February 1989, I sent this proposal in writing to him. In early June 1989, I was told by Adi to train one pilot. This time, then Sqn Ldr Arup Raha, later CAS, volunteered to do such displays and I took up his training in the poor weather of Poona around that time of the year due to approaching monsoons and regular low clouds. I had planned a syllabus of around 10 sorties, dual and solo included, with progressively reducing heights for “Aru” but apart from about 2 duals and 2 other solos that I watched till he was brought down to 500 meters, I couldn’t do anymore due to worsening weather. So, I left Aru with long talks on all possible facets of low–level displays that I could think of and my notes, of course. It so transpired that Aru soon left the squadron and left these notes, or a copy, with the next chosen display pilot, KT Sebastian. The Inquiry proceedings had tabulated the recommended parameters of AF Poona for each manoeuvre against my notes.

I had recommended an IAS of 750 km/h for the derry turn with a minimum of 650 km/h since the aircraft rolled better at higher speeds with a reduced tendency to drop its nose and barrel. Against this, AF Station Poona’s current brief indicated a speed of 550–650 km/h. No explanation was given as to the reason why the recommended speed had been reduced. As I saw from the Inquiry proceedings, Rakesh initiated the derry turn at around 450 km/h. Fortunately, he was at a height of 450m AGL so that gave him some margin of error, though not enough as it turned out in this case. From a cursory read of the voluminous Inquiry proceedings that night, including the FDR readings, it was obvious that the cause of the accident was human error since the manoeuvre had not been performed correctly, and was also unauthorised at that time, as the Inquiry had established. I conveyed this to Ramu Sir the next morning over the sumptuous breakfast Amma had laid out but declined to comment on the statements made by various people involved, including the one by Kicha on the aircraft not behaving as per its design characteristics. Once I got back to Adampur, I replicated the manoeuvre at 1 km, to replicate the same height as in Poona, in the manner and with the same initial control inputs as Rakesh had done and found that the aircraft still went through the manoeuvre in 450m provided the controls were just held in that position without any further contrary movements. Around Christmas of 1990, I was summoned by the CAS, Air Chief Marshal “Polly” Mehra, to Air HQ. As soon as I sat down, Polly Sir shoved the Inquiry proceedings in front of me and asked me to go through it and give him my opinion.

I submitted that I didn’t want to do it and that he had adequate number of MiG–29 qualified staff in his HQs for the job. I went on to say that the very fact he wanted me to look at it indicated that he did not agree with what the C–in–C had said or recommended. And who was that C–in–C; none other than Babi Sir who was supposed to take over from him as CAS on 1 August 1991, going by the DoB in the AF List. Therefore, if I did find something to counter what the C–in–C had said, on 1 August 1991 I would be hanging by the tree that came up to the 5th floor in Air HQ and was visible from his office. Polly Sir got pretty angry with my submissions and said things like how it was my duty to look at the Inquiry being the Godfather, expert and demo pilot on the 29, how he always had great confidence in my abilities and how he couldn’t go to the GoI or the Russians with a claim that the aircraft had not behaved as per its design characteristics and make a fool of himself, particularly since Kicha had confused him with all kinds of TP language to support his contention. He also said that nobody would know I had been asked to study the Inquiry and that I could use a room where no one else would be allowed. I apprised him that everyone who mattered in Air HQ, and perhaps the whole of WAC, already knew I was in his office and why, and that such things couldn’t be hidden. He finally accepted my submission that I would only look at the technical portions and give him draft comments in that area without commenting on the other statements and issues, including action to be taken.

A detailed perusal of the Inquiry over the next 4 or 5 days in Air HQ helped reconstruct the entire fatal manoeuvre that Rakesh had performed. As must be apparent from the foregoing, Rakesh was in a turn, and if I remember correctly now a left turn, at about 450m AGL and at an IAS of 454 Km/h when he initiated the entry into a derry turn. Turning level at that speed, his alpha or angle of attack was about 22. Unfortunately, while initiating the derry turn, he did not relax his backward pressure and applied slight inward rudder to roll faster. With the stick moving further backwards, opposite to where it should have been moved, the aircraft promptly dropped its nose with the alpha increasing beyond the clock to 32 plus by the time it had rolled about 170 degrees, almost on its back with the nose about 20 degrees below the horizon and the stick almost in the gut.

The aircraft was now completely stalled and, as was being demonstrated to every rookie pilot in slow speed handling sorties from 10 km, it went into a falling leaf phase on its back refusing to roll further as per its design characteristics clearly stated in the flight manual. Even then, the aircraft showed signs of recovery with the slightest positive movement of controls. Rakesh first reduced throttles to idle and reversed the ailerons, probably to try and roll upright. While moving the stick from left to right, the stick moved somewhat forward thus unloading the alpha. The aircraft immediately started rolling right but then Rakesh pulled the stick back and left, stalling the aircraft again and engaged afterburners while the aircraft went on its back hitting the ground in this attitude. Accordingly, I made the draft technical comments of the CAS in about two paragraphs proving that the aircraft had behaved as per the design characteristics and that pilot error was the cause of the accident. When I put this in front of the CAS, Polly Sir blew his top and, with a lot of profanity, said things like, “Those sons of –––––––, the liars who don’t want to take responsibility, I’m going to court martial and kill the b––––––” or words to that effect. I think Kicha had served under Polly Mehra in 28 Sqn of MiG–21 days in Tezpur or someplace and Polly was very fond of Kicha and Adi and was disappointed at their statements which he considered as lies.

I just stood in front of him quietly till he stopped frothing and then said, “Sir, I know I am now going beyond my brief but may I say something?” Prompt came a dirty look and a curt “What”? I then asked Polly Sir why he was presuming that people were lying. I added that anyone who is under an Inquiry would try to defend himself to the best of his ability and perhaps they didn’t know the aircraft as well as I did. To all this, Polly Sir retorted with, “who the f––– asked you for your opinion?” I withdrew with polite murmurs of what I had already said, that I was exceeding my brief and stepping into areas that shouldn’t concern me but since I was there when he was reacting angrily to the findings, I thought it was my duty to put things in the correct perspective. I then headed back to Adampur without narrating this episode to anyone. However, I do believe that my words had some calming effect on Polly Sir because both Kicha and Adi got away lightly with administrative action and rose to Chief and C– in–C levels respectively.

Well, I didn’t hang on the 1 August 1991 but much later due to my draft comments to the CAS in this Inquiry. But, that is another story. Long stories but perhaps the only way I could put all the facts before people who may hear or believe otherwise. The fact remains that there are lessons to be drawn from these accidents on how to prevent mishaps in the future. I personally believe that there are always warning signs before any accident. The trick is to be watchful and tuned in, know the pulse of people around you, through various means of interaction and act on them in time. In both 1 Sqn as flight Commander and later in 28 Sqn as the CO, I had some people moved to other streams or out of flying. At the risk of being immodest, I also want to mention what one of my pupils reminded me of when I was debating whether I should fight my promotion case in 2003–04. He asked me to look around and see that none who had served with/under me, because of what I had taught them, was dead yet. I always did believe that I would be doing a disservice, both to the Air Force and to the individuals as well as their families, if I were to let people continue if they did not have the necessary skills or ability to do the job, and often said “I’d rather have empty cockpits on the tarmac than have no pilots or cockpits left”. Perhaps, that also contributed to the zero accidents in every unit that I have been in since my supervisory days in the early 1970s.

May the legends be based on the truth and the right lessons be learnt.

The author of this series: Air Marshal (R) Harish Masand seen here at Aero India 2009 at Yelahanka, Bangalore