In an interview to The Indian Express last week, Air Chief SP Tyagi, concerned over his force’s fleet strength, said he had asked the government to “order more aircraft of the types we already operate” since numbers were heading toward unacceptable levels. Plans for 126 new fighters and their induction could take 15 years and “we can’t afford to wait that long... our only option is to get something in a hurry”. Pointing to more F-16s for Islamabad and the induction into PAF of Chinese JF-17s in large numbers from next year, Tyagi warned that Pakistan would have greater fighter density than India for a country its size.

There is a familiar ring to his concerns, a sense of déjà vu that takes you back 40 years: the run-up to the 1965 Indo-Pak war, and the war itself, were the IAF’s first hard lessons in the “dangers of neglecting offensive and support capabilities”. In what is one of the most graphic and honest accounts of the war, PVS Jagan Mohan and Samir Chopra’s The India-Pakistan Air War of 1965 (Manohar Books, 2005) introduces you to an IAF, which, on the threshold of an uncertain long-term expansion plan, is suddenly told to go to war in old, equally uncertain machines.

Vampires and Ouragans which had “no business being in the skies” at the time joined Mysteres, Hunters and Gnats to take on the PAF’s cutting edge American F-86 Sabres and F-104 Starfighters. At that time, the Sabre was “the fastest and most powerful aircraft in the subcontinent" while the Starfighter was a "missile with a man in it”. Had it not been for the men who made the IAF at the time, the 1965 war could have turned out quite differently.

The account by Mohan and Chopra, replete with interviews with pilots and veterans, squadron diaries and unpublished photographs, not only demolishes myths and counterclaims on both sides but makes one of the most critical points of all — that the 1965 operations inestimably helped prepare the IAF for a war which was to be upon it just six years later, and possibly put in perspective for the government, the immediate need for a progressive and structured modernization programme, one that would leave the ground in the late 1970s.

The account does both nations service by unmasking insightful official accounts of the war: “To bolster a nation’s morale, deliberate untruths are fed to the public, intending to keep both the public as well as the military in high spirits. Admissions of severe setbacks or of inaction against the enemy would invite public anger. Both India as well as Pakistan abide by this style. Thus, the Indian public never hears of the retreat to Jaurian or Khem Karan, while the Pakistani public never hears of the retreat from Wagah, or the battering its armour received at Assal Uttar.”

Here are some excerpts from The India-Pakistan Air War of 1965 by PVS Jagan Mohan and Samir Chopra (Manohar Books, 2005).

‘LET’S NOT GET INVOLVED’

It is still little known that four months before the 1965 operations, Pakistan’s Air chief Asghar Khan, justifiably rattled by an IAF photo-reconnaissance flight which snapped Pakistani Patton tanks that had eaten into Kutch as part of the April incursion, called up his counterpart IAF chief Arjan Singh to suggest that the two air forces not get involved no matter what happens on the ground.

Khan’s call to Singh infuriated Pakistan’s Army chief General Musa, and Khan had to retire two months later after several bouts of justification and apparent self-contradiction to be replaced by deputy Nur Khan.

“Pakistan’s adventures in the Kutch should have alerted the IAF to the dangers of neglecting their offensive and support capabilities in this sector but even after the Kutch incursion, neither the IAF nor the Army planned for further operations in the south-western sector.”

NO TIME TO CONSULT THE PRIME MINISTER

In August, the Pakistan Army’s Operation Gibraltar, “the master plan to free Kashmir”, fell apart and the Indian Army retaliated by occupying the strategic Haji Pir Pass on August 28. Large swathes in PoK were also overrun. Three days later, on September 1, Pakistan launched Operation Grandslam, an armoured thrust into Chamb, from where the country hoped to push on to the Akhnur Bridge and sever the link to South-West Kashmir.

“The Chiefs (General Chaudhuri and Air chief Arjan Singh) agreed that air strikes against the Pakistani Army were the only way to prevent the Indian defences from being completely overrun... Faced with a tough decision and and with no time to consult the Prime Minister or the ECC (Emergency Coordination Committee), (Defence Minister Y B) Chavan boldly gave the go ahead.”

Within an hour, the first fighters had taken to the air.

THE FIRST SABRE SLAYERS

On September 3, Pakistani radars tracked four Mysteres as they took off from Pathankot and headed for Chamb. Six Sabres and two Starfighters, far more equipped and advanced than their quarry, were scrambled to intercept the Mysteres. What the Pakistanis didn’t realise was that four Gnats were vectored behind the Mysteres. Squadron Leader Trevor Keelor’s wingman was Flight Lieutenant “Kicha” Krishnaswamy (who went on to become the IAF chief almost forty years later). As the Sabres closed in, warnings went out.

“Keelor opened fire with his twin 30mm cannon from a distance of about 450 yards, closing in to 200 yards. In an instant, the Sabre’s right wing appeared to disintegrate and it flicked over into an uncontrollable dive. The IAF had claimed its first kill... Keelor became the first Indian pilot to claim a jet in air-to-air combat...

“At one point, Krishnaswamy found the Starfighter on his tail, which overshot him and presented a nice target. But as Krishnaswamy later admitted, he was so awestruck at the sight of the sleek and beautiful fighter that before he could gather his instincts to open fire, the target had slipped away.”

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