As another Kargil Diwas approaches, my thoughts return to the summer of 1999, to the stark, unforgiving Himalayas stretching from Kaobal Gali to Turtuk. Those heights witnessed feats of courage and skill that remains largely untold— feats achieved by the aviators of Army Aviation.
The first report of intrusion came in early May 1999. The first call for support went to Army Aviation as it was the only arm that could mobilise instantly and provide a real time assessment of the scale and depth of the intrusion. Following Army Aviation’s aerial reconnaissance, what was initially thought to be a minor incursion revealed itself as a full-scale occupation of every winter vacated post along the Kargil ridgeline. In a theatre wherein there were no roads and the mountains denied movement to everything else, Army Aviation became the lifeline.
The task was immense and unforgiving. Thousands of operational missions were flown in direct support of ground operations. Day after day, this was done in a fully contested air defence environment, with machines being flown to the very limits of their operational envelope. Every mission was the equivalent of an assault— from forming- up place to objective: no covering fire, no suppressive fire, and there was also no luxury of operating from standoff distances which own Air Force discovered on the first two days.
It brings to mind Alfred Lord Tennyson verse: “into the valley of Death rode…” except this time it was our Army Aviators. The soldiers on the ground went in armed. Our aviators went in with nothing more than a folded Bullet Proof Jacket under their seat.
What made these missions possible was not just courage, but mastery. As the old adage goes: those who sweat in peace do not bleed in war. They knew their machine, the Cheetah, much like their own body part with an intimacy born of countless hours. More than that, they knew the terrain like the back of their hands. Every fold, every nullah, every ridge, every summit. They understood the enemy, his weapons, and their limitations. These aviators were the true fusion of ground soldier and pilot the “Army Aviator”. They flew with precision, timing, and nerve like ‘water and wind’. Hugging the contours, using the terrain for cover, thin on power, with minimal exposure, and with a planned escape on every mission. That was their craft. That is what saved them. And yet, the most remarkable thing about them was this: they simply did what had to be done, logged it, and flew the next one quietly, seeking no glory, no validation. Thousands of missions. All successful. Duty carried out. Not a single DNCO. (Duty not carried out).
Every machine that flew returned with bullet holes. In fact, every helicopter deserved a war wound medal if the machines could have been given one. And still they kept flying, after hurried field repairs. A special salute, too, to the aviation engineers and technicians who made it possible. Between the two Army Aviation squadrons and the additional units inducted with the reserve formations, thousands of operational missions were flown.
Quite simply, there is no parallel in the history of helicopter operations to what Army Aviation achieved in Kargil. Their testimony lies buried deep in those author books and logbooks, stories untold. And beyond that, the silent mountains still stand as eternal witness to their heroism.
Salute to the Army Aviators!
