AShkan
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Some of the stories told by the IRIAF pilots during the Iran-Iraq war.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
AND
THE RESCUE BY THE IRANIAN ARMY HELICOPTERS
Thursday, Dec 4, 1980
Azar 13, 1359
It’s around 1600, and I, as the 32nd Tactical Fighter Squadron Commander, along with, Lt. Colonel Faraj Baratpour ” The Deputy Command. for Operation”, and Col. Ghasem Golchin, “ The Air Base Commander”, are in the Command Post. A Jet Falcon which is a nine seat passenger plane arrives. Minutes later, a Master Sergeant from the Air Force Deputy Command for Operation enters the Command Post, and hands over a sealed envelope to the Base Commander. He opens up the envelope and after a quick look into its content, hands it over to Faraj and declares; “It’s an armed road reconnaissance which has to be done tomorrow.”
Faraj, grabs a blank Frag Order sheet, transfers the high lights of the mission to that format, signs, turns towards me, and says, “It’s yours”, placing the paper in front of me, next to numerous phones and hot lines on the desk.
I grab the Frag Order, and carefully word-by-word read the entire Mission. It reads; “On Friday – The next day - a flight of two Phantoms, each equipped with six MK 82 high drag bombs to attack a train transporting ammunition from Tuz Khormatio; (A town north of Baghdad), to Al Taji army base, which is located only 10 kilometers north of Baghdad”.
Surprisingly, I find no Time on Target (T.O.T) printed in the space provided for that purpose!
I then hold the Frag Order in front of Faraj’s face who was sitting next to me, and ask,
“What’s my T.O.T?”
In my surprise, he answers, “I have no idea!”
“What do you mean, you have no idea? When the train leaves its station?” I wonder.
He shakes his head and answers, “I don’t know!”
“When shall I take off, when I neither have a T.O.T, or Know, when the train leaves the station? If you find out, the train’s departure time, then I can figure out where to expect it along its route to Baghdad, and adjust my take off time accordingly.” I press on.
He turns to Air Base Commander and inquires, “Colonel, there is neither a T.O.T, nor a train departure time on this Order.”
The Colonel responds, “Well you can call the Air Force Command Post, and find out.”
After listening to Faraj’s conversation on a secured line with the Air Force Command Post, I discover, the Air Force has no idea about the details of this mission, and it was transmitted to them by the Joint Armed Forces Head quarter.
Faraj, then calls and speaks to another colonel in the Joint Chief of Staff’s Command Post and finds out, they too, know nothing about the details of the mission, and it was assigned by the Ministry of Defense!”
I think, “Ministry of Defense has no authority over assigning missions like this to Air Force. Their job is to provide arm forces with necessary man power and the equipment to fight!”
I have the sense, “something should be wrong, or may be misinformation.” “Later on, I find out, Major Mahmood Eskandari, “A coursemate of mine had an identical mission towards southern part of Iraq!”
Faraj says, “The mission has to be done any way. You tell me when you want me to schedule your take off time!”
“No body is able to cancel the mission. It would be interpreted by the Regime, as not having the will to fight, and the least, it might cost any one of us to
lose our job!”
Next day, is a Friday, and my Wife was going to prepare one of my most favorite dishes for lunch, “Vegetable rice with pan fried white fish”, and at 1430 the only TV channel, was going to show the Final game of two very popular football teams – Taaj, and Persepolis.
It took me only a few seconds to figure out, “Mid-day is a good time to do the mission. The Iraqi’s air defenses are about to replace each other for lunch breaks, and the Noon time prayer, - One of the five times a day mandatory prayer in Islam - We will take off at 1200. It’s going to take us almost half an hour to get to target area. We are going to spend roughly five minutes for the armed road reconnaissance, and another half an hour to return. It’s going to take another half an hour to park the plane in a shelter, go to the Maintenance Squadron to fill up the forms, go to command post and fill out the after flight report. By the time I get home, it’s going to be around 1400. Vegetable rice with fried white fish and football game right after!” It can’t be better!
“Is that OK if we plan to take off at 1200 tomorrow?” I asked Faraj.
Both, Faraj and the Base Commander say, “Not a problem!”
I pick First Lieutenant Bahman Solaymani for my back seat as a Weapon System Officer “WSO”, and Capt. Firoozi and First Lieutenant Parviz Dehghan as my number two – Bahman and the other WSO, were actually fighter pilots – Unlike American WSOs who weren’t pilots at all.
Because of the Hostage crisis, and the Arms Embargo imposed upon the Iranian Regime by the Americans, our Air Force is not receiving parts and other necessary equipment for the planes. That’s why the food stored in our survival kits was expired. And we had come up with an alternative; a bag of raisin, walnut and pistachio that we used to pick up on our way to the flight line!
Friday, December 5, 1980
Azar 14, 1359
At 0600 I kiss my Wife good bye. Our two kids are in their sweet dreams. I kiss them on the cheeks, and drive my jeep to the Command Post, and plan for the flight. After preparing the map and selecting the route to enter and exit Iraq, I show the map to our Intelligent Officer and inquire; “Do you have anything on our way going in and getting out?” Meaning, “Are there any Iraqi’s anti aircraft guns or missiles in the vicinity of our flight path.” Him after checking my map, in English responds; “No Sir, it’s clear!”
At 10:00 o’clock I spread the map on a desk in our War Room, and brief my crews.
I tell them about the lack of information regarding the train’s departure time, and add,
“In case we don’t see the train, as an alternate mission, we are going to make a 90 degrees turn towards our border”, and by pointing to a road on the map, I continue,
“We are going to follow this road inside Iraq, which is running along the border.
If we find any Iraqi’s troops we are going to bomb them”.
And by putting my finger on a bridge on the map, I add, “If there were no other targets, we are going to get rid of all of our bombs over this bridge!”
“We don’t want to land, with live ordinance any way!” – It’s extremely dangerous if something goes wrong during landing.
At 1100 o’clock we get on board of a crew van, and leave the command post.
I see Bahman has already started munching on his bag of supposedly, “Survival Food”. It makes me laugh.
I say, “Bahman, leave some in case you need it later!”
Everybody laughs.
Bahman offers me some.
I say, “No thanks I have my own.”
Minutes later we are in the parachute shop. We put on our anti-G suit, and the harnesses which will be fastened to the parachute already installed on our ejection seats later on. “The chute itself in incorporated in the ejection seat”. We then grab our helmets, and get back again on the van and leave for the airplane shelters.
For this Mission, our Phantoms are equipped with six MK82 high drag bombs – They weigh 500 pounds each - Electronic Counter Measure Pods, and 635 rounds of 20 mm nose gun ammo.
I pre-flight my plane, get in the cockpit, attach the air hose that is hanging from my anti-G suit to another hose which is installed between the seat and the left hand consol, fasten the leg restraints to my knees and ankles, lock the lap belt over my laps, lock the survival kit into the lower part of my side harnesses. The crew chief helps me with the parachutes main harnesses, which have to be locked into the upper part of my shoulder harnesses. At last, I put on my helmet, grab the plane’s oxygen hose and the radio cord and attach both of them to the oxygen hose and the radio cord which are hanging from my helmet. I put on my oxygen mask, turn on the intercom, and check,
“Bahman, how do you read?”
“Loud and clear”. He responds.
In a complete radio silence, we start, taxi and take off. We fly over our western mountains. Right before crossing the mountains, to avoid being picked up by the enemy radars, we descend to around one hundred feet over the ground, and my number two moves further out to a tactical formation. The sky is clear, and the visibility is unlimited.
We head straight towards Tuz khormato, and make one circle over the town and look for the train station. Except for a couple of wagons here and there, there is no train around. I ask, “Bahman, do you see any train down there!”
“Nothing Major” He answers.
I level off over the railroad on which we are suppose to find a train. We zigzag over the railroad towards Al Taji Army base which is located almost ten kilometers north of Baghdad, and continue in search of a train. We can now see Baghdad and its high rise buildings from the distance. There is no train of any kind whatsoever !
As I had briefed, I make a 90 degrees left turn, and head east towards our common border. At this time, we are almost 60 nautical miles inside Iraq.
A couple of minutes later, I see a number of three tanks on a cross road.
I wonder, “What the hell these tanks are doing here?!”
“May be, they are guarding their own road ways!” I guess.
I push the mic button, “Three tanks, 10 O’clock, and two miles. Number one rolling in.” Number two clicks his mic button, meaning he heard me.
I select “Pairs” on my bombs selector knob, put my sight on the middle of the tanks, and drop two bombs. A couple of seconds later, I pass over the tanks, dip my wings and look behind to see the score.
“My bombs hit almost one hundred feet short of the tanks”. I guess.
I ask Bahman, “Did you see where the bombs hit?”
He gives me a better score, “Fifty feet short Major.”
“The recherché got them”. I say.
“Definitely”. He assures.
I don’t see number two’s, and I don’t ask.
“We are going to see the pictures taken by our forward and tail camera after we land.”
As we are flying north over this road, I see a couple of hanger type buildings, with tin roofing.
I say, “Bahman, I see a couple of hangers dead ahead. May be it’s a military installation?”
“There is nothing on my map Major” He answers.
I become hesitant as to drop bombs; and I don’t.
As I am passing overhead those hangers, I look down and see hundreds of cows down there. “It was a dairy farm!”
I am so glad I did not declare those animals as enemy combatants!
A few miles further, I see the small bridge I had picked as an alternate target before.
As I scan around the bridge, “I see, a couple of cars entering the bridge; a white and reddish passenger sedans.”
In a flash, I think, “These are poor civilians who have nothing to do with this God damn war!”
We are still some thirty nautical miles inside Iraq.
On the bomb selector switch, I select “Ripple”; meaning, all the remaining bombs will release upon pushing on the Bomb Button.
By this time, I am at my release point, and the cars are way clear of the bridge.
I drop my remaining four bombs on the bridge.
I dip my wing and look behind to see my scores this time.
Not bad; “The first bomb fell short. The second one landed on the middle of the bridge, and the third hit the railing on the other side. And the fourth bomb, missed the bridge, and made a big splash in the river!”
“I knew the bombs would do little damage to the bridge. They were 500 lbs bombs with impact fuse.” – Not suitable to disable a bridge.
For a second, I don’t have the sight of my number two.
I ask, “Bahman, where is number two?”
“They dropped their bombs, and are at our 4 O’clock, one mile Major” He confirms.
At this time, we are almost 25 nautical miles inside Iraq, heading north.
All of a sudden, I receive a warning tone along with series of blinking dashes on my Radar Homing and Warning indicator (RHAW). Meaning, a Surface to Air Missile, “SAM” has locked on my plane, and is being launched, or about to be fired.
I wonder; “The Intelligent officer had said, there is no threat on our way in, and out!” “Obviously, his information was out dated.” I think.
“And the old version of American made Electronic Counter Measures ”ECM” pod, which was supposed to automatically detect and jam the enemy radars, was either not functioning properly, or Iraqi’s with the help of Russians had the means to override its abilities!”
“Break, Break, Break” I call the flight, and at the same time I push both throttles into afterburners, roll the plane into a steep right turn, and pull just short of black out.
A few seconds later, the plane rocks and I hear an explosion under the belly of the plane. And a second later, I feel another shake and a second explosion.
“The big Fire and Overheat warning light of both engines start flashing”
My first reaction is, “Bahman, ajab ma ro zadand”, meaning, “What a shot” and next I roll out and head approximately towards our Base, and examine the plane.
“Except for the RPM of both engines which are hung up at 75 percent - Not enough to sustain level flight - the reading on other engine instruments were within limits. The flight controls are functioning properly, but my speed is winding down.”
I hope the flashing fire warning light is the result of a short circuit, and ask, “Bahman, what do you see from behind the plane?”
He quickly answers, “There is a lot of smoke trailing behind Major.”
“The plane is actually on fire!” I conclude.
I shut down one engine, but the fire warning light stays on. I leave the other engine running to have hydraulic pressure and electricity.
In an attempt to lighten the weight, and get rid of the three empty fuel tanks, and the bomb racks, I push the “panic” button.
Nothing happens. I think; “The electrical system is also damaged by the missiles.”
At this time I was so much occupied to assessing the situation and control the plane, I totally forget to tell to my NO. 2 as to we were in a serious trouble!
“I know we have to eject. But I am also aware of, the enemies are close by, and ejecting right there meant; becoming a POW minutes later.”
“Bahman, we are going to take the risk, and fly the plane towards our border, until right before the stalling speed. Then we are going to eject.” I clarify the situation for him.
He says, “Yes Major.”
“Bahman, is one of the politest and one of the best pilot among his course mates.”
From almost 500 knots, the airspeed eventually winds down to 200 knots. I have climbed slightly, and flying roughly two to three hundred feet above ground level (AGL) in a valley surrounded by mountains now.
In an attempt to climb over these high grounds, I gently pull back on the flight control. A few second later, my left rudder pedal shaker, along with stall warning signals activate; signaling an imminent stall.
I tell Bahman, “We are going to eject”, and at the same time I pull the ejection handle.
I hear a couple of bangs and lose my consciousness for a few seconds. “The rocket motors under the seat fires and ejects the pilot upward with tremendous G force resulting in the blood from the eyes and brain to be pulled down.
As soon as I regain my consciousness, I look above my head and see my parachute is wide open.
I look down. “I am almost 50 feet above ground!”
Generally, fighter pilots aren’t sky divers. All they are trained for are a bunch of academic lessons.
I remember from my academic training long time ago; “To absorb the shock of the impact, upon landing I should roll on the ground!”
But, there are huge boulders and oak trees right underneath.
There was no time to maneuver whatsoever.
I land hard on my feet. Gladly, there was no wind at all. I did not even fall on my back. My parachute lands only a few feet from where I was.
I stand up on my feet and feel a lot of pain in my appendix which was operated a month ago.
I release my chute and look around.
There is an Iraqi village only about half a mile away on the crest of the mountain across.
I look for Bahman.
I find him a few hundred yards away, hanging from a tree!
I ran towards him, and help him to untangle his chute.
We hug each other, and I say, “We must escape fast, otherwise Iraqis are going to find us.”
The very polite Bahman asks me, whether from now on, he can call me by my first name, “Jalil”!
I laugh, and say “Why not?”
“I had read the novel, “Papillion” several times and I always admired the desire of the prisoner whom after several unsuccessful attempts, eventually escapes to freedom.
Under the influence of the character of the book, I wasn’t even thinking of becoming a POW!”
We are almost 20 nautical miles inside Iraq, but in a rural area, surrounded by high hills.
Our plane has crashed on the tip of the mountain, on which I was trying to climb over.
A huge mushroom of fire and smoke is rising way high in to the sky. Because of the tremendous heat, the nose gun ammunitions are being fired in random. I am afraid one might hit one of us! As we are hiding our gears under the bushes, we duck our head with each sound of the explosion.
Upon the sound of another huge explosion, Bahman wonders, “Who is dropping bombs around us?”
“I guess it was our oxygen, or hydraulic tank exploded!” I assure him.
Bahman suggests, “Let’s carry our chute and helmets with us. They will come handy later on.”
“Yes, they might come handy all right, but the helmets are white, and the chutes are orange. They are highly visible and can be spotted easily by enemies.” I say.
He agrees, and we both put our survival kit on our shoulders, and descend down towards a river which we had to cross.
This is a shallow, fast moving river with rocks all over at jumping distance from each other.
I feel extremely thirsty. I lie down on my stomach, put my hands on two rocks, and drink almost a bucket of water!
We rest for a few minutes on a rock and examine the content of our survival kits, and soon find our radio.
It transmits and receives only on an emergency Ultra High Frequency “UHF”.
I put mine in my jacket.
“Bahman, we are almost twenty nautical miles inside enemy’s territory. I don’t think our helicopters will take the risk and fly this far into Iraq to rescue us”
I spread my map, and find the closest Iranian village on the other side of the border. Its name is “Nosood”, which is located in the Kordish Province.”
I add, “If we head northeast, and walk for twenty nautical miles, we eventually get there.”
I further explain, “The distance that you see on the map, is a straight line. Taking into consideration, that the terrain is mountainous, the actual distance is twice as much!”
“It takes weeks to get there Jalil” He says, and as I watch him, he attempts to cross the river.
He carefully examines the rocks on the bed and slowly steps forward.
“You are doing fine, Bahman”, I encourage him.
As I am scanning around for the enemy, or the villagers, with the corner of my eyes I see, Bahman, lost his balance and landed face down on the water.
I watch him struggling to stand on his feet.
“He was safe. The river is shallow, but forceful.”
He eventually gets to other side of the river. All soaked up in water.
It’s going to get cold at night, and I know I shouldn’t get wet. I walk up the river a little bit, and find several rocks across the river, spaced at jumping distances!
I jump from rock number one to number two and from two to three alright. As I try to jump on the fourth one, I slip and land on my feet, knee high in the water. Quickly, I try to grab the same rock, but the pressure of water pulls me along. I am not in no better shape than Bahman when I join him on other side!
I reach for my radio in my jacket. That has gone too!
“Bahman, I lost my radio, where is yours.” I ask
“Don’t worry, it’s in my bag Major.” The polite Bahman cannot stop calling me Major.
It’s 1400 now, and we start climbing a mountain. I hear the noise of sheep or goats grazing at distance. As we gain some height, we can now clearly see the crash site, and the place we had landed.
The plane is still on fire. And we see several villagers at our landing site in search of souvenirs! We spot two of them with our orange life raft on their head, running towards their village. The villagers have no idea about our where about! Or they might think, we were killed in the plane.
We keep on climbing, and I am very exhausted. I guess because of the surgery I had a month ago.
At around 1500, we reach the pea
k of the mountain, and find a valley on other side, with a dirt road underneath.
“I think the villagers use this road for their transportation. So we need to stay off of this road.” I say.
“How about we rest here and travel at night. It serves two purposes. Number one; nobody will see us. And number two; we stay warm. During the day, we hide somewhere and rest.” I suggest.
“Anything you say, it’s fine with me Major!” Bahman agrees.
We sit on the ground, lean on to rocks, and look into our survival kits. “There are fishing line, hooks, and net. Different medicines; like, pain killers, anti diahirea. Mirrors, matches, water sweetener, shark repellent, insect killer, a compass, a couple of flares, and a can of water.”
Bahman says, “I am hungry.” We look around; there are sort of pecans shape nuts under the trees. We try a couple of them; “They are bitter and don’t taste good!”
I give him a hand full of wet raisins, and nuts; “They got wet when I fell in the river!”, and say, “I don’t think, these are poisonous. We are going to save some of these, and eat later on!”
“It’s a good idea.” Bahman agrees.
Back in our Air Base, “Bahram Firoozi”, “My Wing Man” lands unscratched from Iraqi’s Air Defense. “Obviously, the Iraqis SAM radar had locked on my plane, which was flying ahead of Number Two!”
He reports to Operation as; “Major Pourrezaee was shot down, and he did not eject, because I neither heard him saying he is going to eject, nor I heard his Personal Locater Beacon, “PLB”.” “Everybody in the Command Post think we are dead, and sadden.”
“PLB is a device incorporated in the ejection seat, which upon ejection, will activate and transmits an audio signal similar to Emergency vehicles siren.”
Everybody in the Command Post, including my Wing Man forgets the type of frequency on which the PLBs operate! The system is such, the transmitter and receiver must see each other. “As we broke in different directions, there were mountains in between, which prevented his radio to receive my ejection signal!”
Meanwhile our intelligent system in our Command Post receives transmission from Iraqis congratulating each other as they have shot down an Iranian plane, and ask their command post to send a helicopter and give the approximate location of the crash site.
An Iraqi helicopter takes off and heads towards our plane. She circles over the burning plane and transmits as, “We are over the Iranian plane. It’s still on fire. We don’t see her pilots around. The train is such we cannot land here. May be they are dead in the plane. Send some horse back riders to recover their bodies!”
The other side responded, “It’s going to take a week before horseback riders get there!”
Major Mahmood Eskanderi does his mission, lands, parks his plane in a shelter, and in place of going to Command Post to do the after flight report, goes home, eats his lunch, takes a nap, and at around 1500 goes to Command Post.
He finds everybody sad.
“What happened?” He asks Faraj.
“Jalil was shot down.” Faraj with a grim face responds.
“Did he eject?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because his Wing man did not receive his PLB.”
“I heard, and after finding out my wing Man is fine, then I thought may be one of our PLB is malfunctioning.” He gets excited.
We just got lucky, “Mahmood was on a similar mission on southern part of Baghdad also flying low, but when we ejected he was at the exact proper angle to receive our PLB.”
From now on, they decide to ask the Army Air Command to send search and rescue helicopters.
“Faraj, send a couple of Phantoms to search the crash site first.” Air Base Commander Orders.
“Yes Sir, if they are alive they will get in touch with our planes.” Faraj agrees.
At the same time, we are still in our hide out place between two huge rocks.
Referring to our Air Base, Bahman complains, “Aren’t they going to send a plane to find out whether we are dead or alive and rescue us?”
“We are almost 20 nautical miles inside enemy lines. It’s a very dangerous situation. I don’t think they are going to risk a plane and a couple of helicopters.” I make a statement.
“Do you have your hand gun with you?” I inquire.
“No, I forgot mine at home!” He feels sorry.
“Don’t worry. I have mine with fifty spare rounds.” I comfort him.
At around 1545, we hear a sound of a Jet in distance.
“It might be ours. Let’s talk to him!” Bahman hurried.
“No, it might be Iraqi’s. Let’s wait until we visually spot the plane.” I disagree – I am older than him!
We look around.
Minute later, we spot a Phantom at around five nautical miles away, in a right turn, appeared from behind the mountains.
I grab the radio from Bahman, pull it’s antenna out and transmit.
“The Phantom who is making a right turn, continue your turn.”
I had no idea about the name of the pilot, and neither his call sign!
“Jalil, is that you? I love your voice!” I recognize Faraj’s voice, and a drop of tear sheds over my eyes.
“Yes. Thank you Faraj. Continue your turn. Level off. Keep coming straight. Keep coming. Keep coming. You are passing over head now.”
I did not give him our exact location, because Iraqis could’ve listened too. I knew Faraj’s Weapon system Officer is going to make a note of our location from his Inertial Navigation system (INS).
“Sit tight, I am going to send rescue helicopters very soon.” Faraj assures us.
As he leaves, another Phantom appears low, overhead.
He is my course mate, Mahmood – “Maj. Mahmood Eskandari”.
“Jalil, sit tight; I am going to shoot down any Iraqi helicopter who attempt to approach you guys.” Mahmood transmits.“Thank you Mahmood. Be careful of mountains. You are flying very low.” I am concerned for his safety!
“You want to teach safety, no matter where you are!” He laughs. “Don’t worry.”
He is 31st. Tactical Fighter squadron Commander.
Faraj returns in a few minutes and says, “There are three helicopters on their way; one
214 and two Cobras for the escort.”
We have two top covers overhead now; Faraj, and Mahmood.
Iraqi’s radar can not detect our planes, but by picking up our communication, they suspect activities around the crash site and scramble a couple of Mig 23s.
As detected by our radars, the Migs are flying at 20, 000 feet high and can not visually see our planes that are flying very low.
It’s 1600 now. We hear bells on the neck of sheep and goats and their baa baa is getting closer. Minutes later we spot the whole herd on the trail underneath.
We need to avoid being seen by the Sheppard, or his herd dog.
Surprisingly, all of a sudden, a couple of goats appear ten feet away, staring at us!
“The herd dog might come after them. He is going to bark, letting the Sheppard to find where we are. He in turn is going to run to village and let the troopers to our hide out.” I fear our lives, and explain to Bahman.
We both throw a few rocks at them. One flees and the other follows him.
I am relieved!
“The helicopters are almost five miles away.” Faraj announces.
“I will talk to helicopters and guide them to our position. You lit a flare.” I assign who is going to do what.
The flares are made of an almost eight inches long cylindrical phosphorous tube with a ring on each side; “Day side” and the “Night side”. By pulling the day side ring, it gives a highly visible thick orange smoke; where as the night side will produce an orange flame with little smoke.
Minutes later, at a couple of miles away, we spot three helicopters appear from the East, heading exactly toward us; Two gunships “Cobra”, and one 214, rescue helicopters.
“We are at your dead ahead, two miles, next to two huge rocks, with a tree next to them.” I try to direct them to our location.
“No respond from the helicopters!” I wonder.
I repeat, “We are at your dead ahead, two miles, next to two huge rocks, with a tree next to them.”
“No response from the helicopters again!” I panic.
The helicopters were approaching fast.
I look at Bahman. He lit the flare alright; but no smoke.
“You pulled the night side. Pull the day side.” I yell.
I drop my radio and grab another flare and lit it up.
But by now, the helicopters crossed over our head and disappeared among the valleys.
I yell in radio, “You just passed us overhead!” But no response again!
Faraj, tell them to reverse their course and follow the exact course they are flying now. They are not receiving my radio.” I am nervous.
The whole valley is covered by orange smoke now. I hear Iraqis from far are running towards our direction.
The helicopters return; and we lit another two flares.
They easily spot us this time.
The Cobras circle in a tactical formation, and the 214 tries to find a close by site to land.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, the pilot points to the same trail in the valley below, and directs us to run to that location.
The Iraqis are still out of the gun range. I have my hand gun ready.
The valley is too steep for the helicopter to land.
She hovers. “In our surprise, this Army rescue helicopter has no hoist to drop down!”
“You go in first. I’ll cover you.” I say loud – I was armed, and he wasn’t!
Bahman jumps and grabs the skid. He is pulled in by a rescue man – Seargent Esmaeil Eilbaigi (Source: Iranian Air Industry Magazine).
I followed him, seconds later.
We shake hand with the rescue technician. I tap the pilots on their shoulder and thank them for their bravery – Lt. Esfehani, and Shahdadi (Source: Iranian Air Industry Magazine). They turn back and I shake their hands too. They offer us apples and pistachio which tasted so good.
As they were flying very low, I put my hands on the pilot’s back seat to make sure we are on the right course to Sare pole Zohab. At which time Lt. Esfehani said, “Don’t worry Major. We know these mountains like palm of our hands!”
We finally arrive in Sare pole Zohab. Hundreds of Army combatants greet us. They give us hot tea, and warm jacket.
I shake hands with the Cobra pilots in a sign of appreciation – one of them I remember the name for being from Bandare Anzali, Pishgah Hadian from a very popular family.
From there at dark, they fly us to Kermanshah, where we are served with Kentucky Fried Chicken!
Then, Kermanshah army Commander gave us his Chevy Blazer along with a driver, and a MP – These two were neatly dressed up. The driver carried a hand gun, and the MP, besides a hand gun was also equipped with a machine gun.
We eventually arrive in Shahrokhi. At the Gate, hundreds of people were waiting to greet us. They were so happy.
After an hour of physical examination, I go home. My Wife had prepared a big meal, and several fellow fighter pilots were waiting for me to arrive
Source: rahrovan artesh website - Story posted by Phoenix
THE GREAT ESCAPE
AND
THE RESCUE BY THE IRANIAN ARMY HELICOPTERS
Thursday, Dec 4, 1980
Azar 13, 1359
It’s around 1600, and I, as the 32nd Tactical Fighter Squadron Commander, along with, Lt. Colonel Faraj Baratpour ” The Deputy Command. for Operation”, and Col. Ghasem Golchin, “ The Air Base Commander”, are in the Command Post. A Jet Falcon which is a nine seat passenger plane arrives. Minutes later, a Master Sergeant from the Air Force Deputy Command for Operation enters the Command Post, and hands over a sealed envelope to the Base Commander. He opens up the envelope and after a quick look into its content, hands it over to Faraj and declares; “It’s an armed road reconnaissance which has to be done tomorrow.”
Faraj, grabs a blank Frag Order sheet, transfers the high lights of the mission to that format, signs, turns towards me, and says, “It’s yours”, placing the paper in front of me, next to numerous phones and hot lines on the desk.
I grab the Frag Order, and carefully word-by-word read the entire Mission. It reads; “On Friday – The next day - a flight of two Phantoms, each equipped with six MK 82 high drag bombs to attack a train transporting ammunition from Tuz Khormatio; (A town north of Baghdad), to Al Taji army base, which is located only 10 kilometers north of Baghdad”.
Surprisingly, I find no Time on Target (T.O.T) printed in the space provided for that purpose!
I then hold the Frag Order in front of Faraj’s face who was sitting next to me, and ask,
“What’s my T.O.T?”
In my surprise, he answers, “I have no idea!”
“What do you mean, you have no idea? When the train leaves its station?” I wonder.
He shakes his head and answers, “I don’t know!”
“When shall I take off, when I neither have a T.O.T, or Know, when the train leaves the station? If you find out, the train’s departure time, then I can figure out where to expect it along its route to Baghdad, and adjust my take off time accordingly.” I press on.
He turns to Air Base Commander and inquires, “Colonel, there is neither a T.O.T, nor a train departure time on this Order.”
The Colonel responds, “Well you can call the Air Force Command Post, and find out.”
After listening to Faraj’s conversation on a secured line with the Air Force Command Post, I discover, the Air Force has no idea about the details of this mission, and it was transmitted to them by the Joint Armed Forces Head quarter.
Faraj, then calls and speaks to another colonel in the Joint Chief of Staff’s Command Post and finds out, they too, know nothing about the details of the mission, and it was assigned by the Ministry of Defense!”
I think, “Ministry of Defense has no authority over assigning missions like this to Air Force. Their job is to provide arm forces with necessary man power and the equipment to fight!”
I have the sense, “something should be wrong, or may be misinformation.” “Later on, I find out, Major Mahmood Eskandari, “A coursemate of mine had an identical mission towards southern part of Iraq!”
Faraj says, “The mission has to be done any way. You tell me when you want me to schedule your take off time!”
“No body is able to cancel the mission. It would be interpreted by the Regime, as not having the will to fight, and the least, it might cost any one of us to
lose our job!”
Next day, is a Friday, and my Wife was going to prepare one of my most favorite dishes for lunch, “Vegetable rice with pan fried white fish”, and at 1430 the only TV channel, was going to show the Final game of two very popular football teams – Taaj, and Persepolis.
It took me only a few seconds to figure out, “Mid-day is a good time to do the mission. The Iraqi’s air defenses are about to replace each other for lunch breaks, and the Noon time prayer, - One of the five times a day mandatory prayer in Islam - We will take off at 1200. It’s going to take us almost half an hour to get to target area. We are going to spend roughly five minutes for the armed road reconnaissance, and another half an hour to return. It’s going to take another half an hour to park the plane in a shelter, go to the Maintenance Squadron to fill up the forms, go to command post and fill out the after flight report. By the time I get home, it’s going to be around 1400. Vegetable rice with fried white fish and football game right after!” It can’t be better!
“Is that OK if we plan to take off at 1200 tomorrow?” I asked Faraj.
Both, Faraj and the Base Commander say, “Not a problem!”
I pick First Lieutenant Bahman Solaymani for my back seat as a Weapon System Officer “WSO”, and Capt. Firoozi and First Lieutenant Parviz Dehghan as my number two – Bahman and the other WSO, were actually fighter pilots – Unlike American WSOs who weren’t pilots at all.
Because of the Hostage crisis, and the Arms Embargo imposed upon the Iranian Regime by the Americans, our Air Force is not receiving parts and other necessary equipment for the planes. That’s why the food stored in our survival kits was expired. And we had come up with an alternative; a bag of raisin, walnut and pistachio that we used to pick up on our way to the flight line!
Friday, December 5, 1980
Azar 14, 1359
At 0600 I kiss my Wife good bye. Our two kids are in their sweet dreams. I kiss them on the cheeks, and drive my jeep to the Command Post, and plan for the flight. After preparing the map and selecting the route to enter and exit Iraq, I show the map to our Intelligent Officer and inquire; “Do you have anything on our way going in and getting out?” Meaning, “Are there any Iraqi’s anti aircraft guns or missiles in the vicinity of our flight path.” Him after checking my map, in English responds; “No Sir, it’s clear!”
At 10:00 o’clock I spread the map on a desk in our War Room, and brief my crews.
I tell them about the lack of information regarding the train’s departure time, and add,
“In case we don’t see the train, as an alternate mission, we are going to make a 90 degrees turn towards our border”, and by pointing to a road on the map, I continue,
“We are going to follow this road inside Iraq, which is running along the border.
If we find any Iraqi’s troops we are going to bomb them”.
And by putting my finger on a bridge on the map, I add, “If there were no other targets, we are going to get rid of all of our bombs over this bridge!”
“We don’t want to land, with live ordinance any way!” – It’s extremely dangerous if something goes wrong during landing.
At 1100 o’clock we get on board of a crew van, and leave the command post.
I see Bahman has already started munching on his bag of supposedly, “Survival Food”. It makes me laugh.
I say, “Bahman, leave some in case you need it later!”
Everybody laughs.
Bahman offers me some.
I say, “No thanks I have my own.”
Minutes later we are in the parachute shop. We put on our anti-G suit, and the harnesses which will be fastened to the parachute already installed on our ejection seats later on. “The chute itself in incorporated in the ejection seat”. We then grab our helmets, and get back again on the van and leave for the airplane shelters.
For this Mission, our Phantoms are equipped with six MK82 high drag bombs – They weigh 500 pounds each - Electronic Counter Measure Pods, and 635 rounds of 20 mm nose gun ammo.
I pre-flight my plane, get in the cockpit, attach the air hose that is hanging from my anti-G suit to another hose which is installed between the seat and the left hand consol, fasten the leg restraints to my knees and ankles, lock the lap belt over my laps, lock the survival kit into the lower part of my side harnesses. The crew chief helps me with the parachutes main harnesses, which have to be locked into the upper part of my shoulder harnesses. At last, I put on my helmet, grab the plane’s oxygen hose and the radio cord and attach both of them to the oxygen hose and the radio cord which are hanging from my helmet. I put on my oxygen mask, turn on the intercom, and check,
“Bahman, how do you read?”
“Loud and clear”. He responds.
In a complete radio silence, we start, taxi and take off. We fly over our western mountains. Right before crossing the mountains, to avoid being picked up by the enemy radars, we descend to around one hundred feet over the ground, and my number two moves further out to a tactical formation. The sky is clear, and the visibility is unlimited.
We head straight towards Tuz khormato, and make one circle over the town and look for the train station. Except for a couple of wagons here and there, there is no train around. I ask, “Bahman, do you see any train down there!”
“Nothing Major” He answers.
I level off over the railroad on which we are suppose to find a train. We zigzag over the railroad towards Al Taji Army base which is located almost ten kilometers north of Baghdad, and continue in search of a train. We can now see Baghdad and its high rise buildings from the distance. There is no train of any kind whatsoever !
As I had briefed, I make a 90 degrees left turn, and head east towards our common border. At this time, we are almost 60 nautical miles inside Iraq.
A couple of minutes later, I see a number of three tanks on a cross road.
I wonder, “What the hell these tanks are doing here?!”
“May be, they are guarding their own road ways!” I guess.
I push the mic button, “Three tanks, 10 O’clock, and two miles. Number one rolling in.” Number two clicks his mic button, meaning he heard me.
I select “Pairs” on my bombs selector knob, put my sight on the middle of the tanks, and drop two bombs. A couple of seconds later, I pass over the tanks, dip my wings and look behind to see the score.
“My bombs hit almost one hundred feet short of the tanks”. I guess.
I ask Bahman, “Did you see where the bombs hit?”
He gives me a better score, “Fifty feet short Major.”
“The recherché got them”. I say.
“Definitely”. He assures.
I don’t see number two’s, and I don’t ask.
“We are going to see the pictures taken by our forward and tail camera after we land.”
As we are flying north over this road, I see a couple of hanger type buildings, with tin roofing.
I say, “Bahman, I see a couple of hangers dead ahead. May be it’s a military installation?”
“There is nothing on my map Major” He answers.
I become hesitant as to drop bombs; and I don’t.
As I am passing overhead those hangers, I look down and see hundreds of cows down there. “It was a dairy farm!”
I am so glad I did not declare those animals as enemy combatants!
A few miles further, I see the small bridge I had picked as an alternate target before.
As I scan around the bridge, “I see, a couple of cars entering the bridge; a white and reddish passenger sedans.”
In a flash, I think, “These are poor civilians who have nothing to do with this God damn war!”
We are still some thirty nautical miles inside Iraq.
On the bomb selector switch, I select “Ripple”; meaning, all the remaining bombs will release upon pushing on the Bomb Button.
By this time, I am at my release point, and the cars are way clear of the bridge.
I drop my remaining four bombs on the bridge.
I dip my wing and look behind to see my scores this time.
Not bad; “The first bomb fell short. The second one landed on the middle of the bridge, and the third hit the railing on the other side. And the fourth bomb, missed the bridge, and made a big splash in the river!”
“I knew the bombs would do little damage to the bridge. They were 500 lbs bombs with impact fuse.” – Not suitable to disable a bridge.
For a second, I don’t have the sight of my number two.
I ask, “Bahman, where is number two?”
“They dropped their bombs, and are at our 4 O’clock, one mile Major” He confirms.
At this time, we are almost 25 nautical miles inside Iraq, heading north.
All of a sudden, I receive a warning tone along with series of blinking dashes on my Radar Homing and Warning indicator (RHAW). Meaning, a Surface to Air Missile, “SAM” has locked on my plane, and is being launched, or about to be fired.
I wonder; “The Intelligent officer had said, there is no threat on our way in, and out!” “Obviously, his information was out dated.” I think.
“And the old version of American made Electronic Counter Measures ”ECM” pod, which was supposed to automatically detect and jam the enemy radars, was either not functioning properly, or Iraqi’s with the help of Russians had the means to override its abilities!”
“Break, Break, Break” I call the flight, and at the same time I push both throttles into afterburners, roll the plane into a steep right turn, and pull just short of black out.
A few seconds later, the plane rocks and I hear an explosion under the belly of the plane. And a second later, I feel another shake and a second explosion.
“The big Fire and Overheat warning light of both engines start flashing”
My first reaction is, “Bahman, ajab ma ro zadand”, meaning, “What a shot” and next I roll out and head approximately towards our Base, and examine the plane.
“Except for the RPM of both engines which are hung up at 75 percent - Not enough to sustain level flight - the reading on other engine instruments were within limits. The flight controls are functioning properly, but my speed is winding down.”
I hope the flashing fire warning light is the result of a short circuit, and ask, “Bahman, what do you see from behind the plane?”
He quickly answers, “There is a lot of smoke trailing behind Major.”
“The plane is actually on fire!” I conclude.
I shut down one engine, but the fire warning light stays on. I leave the other engine running to have hydraulic pressure and electricity.
In an attempt to lighten the weight, and get rid of the three empty fuel tanks, and the bomb racks, I push the “panic” button.
Nothing happens. I think; “The electrical system is also damaged by the missiles.”
At this time I was so much occupied to assessing the situation and control the plane, I totally forget to tell to my NO. 2 as to we were in a serious trouble!
“I know we have to eject. But I am also aware of, the enemies are close by, and ejecting right there meant; becoming a POW minutes later.”
“Bahman, we are going to take the risk, and fly the plane towards our border, until right before the stalling speed. Then we are going to eject.” I clarify the situation for him.
He says, “Yes Major.”
“Bahman, is one of the politest and one of the best pilot among his course mates.”
From almost 500 knots, the airspeed eventually winds down to 200 knots. I have climbed slightly, and flying roughly two to three hundred feet above ground level (AGL) in a valley surrounded by mountains now.
In an attempt to climb over these high grounds, I gently pull back on the flight control. A few second later, my left rudder pedal shaker, along with stall warning signals activate; signaling an imminent stall.
I tell Bahman, “We are going to eject”, and at the same time I pull the ejection handle.
I hear a couple of bangs and lose my consciousness for a few seconds. “The rocket motors under the seat fires and ejects the pilot upward with tremendous G force resulting in the blood from the eyes and brain to be pulled down.
As soon as I regain my consciousness, I look above my head and see my parachute is wide open.
I look down. “I am almost 50 feet above ground!”
Generally, fighter pilots aren’t sky divers. All they are trained for are a bunch of academic lessons.
I remember from my academic training long time ago; “To absorb the shock of the impact, upon landing I should roll on the ground!”
But, there are huge boulders and oak trees right underneath.
There was no time to maneuver whatsoever.
I land hard on my feet. Gladly, there was no wind at all. I did not even fall on my back. My parachute lands only a few feet from where I was.
I stand up on my feet and feel a lot of pain in my appendix which was operated a month ago.
I release my chute and look around.
There is an Iraqi village only about half a mile away on the crest of the mountain across.
I look for Bahman.
I find him a few hundred yards away, hanging from a tree!
I ran towards him, and help him to untangle his chute.
We hug each other, and I say, “We must escape fast, otherwise Iraqis are going to find us.”
The very polite Bahman asks me, whether from now on, he can call me by my first name, “Jalil”!
I laugh, and say “Why not?”
“I had read the novel, “Papillion” several times and I always admired the desire of the prisoner whom after several unsuccessful attempts, eventually escapes to freedom.
Under the influence of the character of the book, I wasn’t even thinking of becoming a POW!”
We are almost 20 nautical miles inside Iraq, but in a rural area, surrounded by high hills.
Our plane has crashed on the tip of the mountain, on which I was trying to climb over.
A huge mushroom of fire and smoke is rising way high in to the sky. Because of the tremendous heat, the nose gun ammunitions are being fired in random. I am afraid one might hit one of us! As we are hiding our gears under the bushes, we duck our head with each sound of the explosion.
Upon the sound of another huge explosion, Bahman wonders, “Who is dropping bombs around us?”
“I guess it was our oxygen, or hydraulic tank exploded!” I assure him.
Bahman suggests, “Let’s carry our chute and helmets with us. They will come handy later on.”
“Yes, they might come handy all right, but the helmets are white, and the chutes are orange. They are highly visible and can be spotted easily by enemies.” I say.
He agrees, and we both put our survival kit on our shoulders, and descend down towards a river which we had to cross.
This is a shallow, fast moving river with rocks all over at jumping distance from each other.
I feel extremely thirsty. I lie down on my stomach, put my hands on two rocks, and drink almost a bucket of water!
We rest for a few minutes on a rock and examine the content of our survival kits, and soon find our radio.
It transmits and receives only on an emergency Ultra High Frequency “UHF”.
I put mine in my jacket.
“Bahman, we are almost twenty nautical miles inside enemy’s territory. I don’t think our helicopters will take the risk and fly this far into Iraq to rescue us”
I spread my map, and find the closest Iranian village on the other side of the border. Its name is “Nosood”, which is located in the Kordish Province.”
I add, “If we head northeast, and walk for twenty nautical miles, we eventually get there.”
I further explain, “The distance that you see on the map, is a straight line. Taking into consideration, that the terrain is mountainous, the actual distance is twice as much!”
“It takes weeks to get there Jalil” He says, and as I watch him, he attempts to cross the river.
He carefully examines the rocks on the bed and slowly steps forward.
“You are doing fine, Bahman”, I encourage him.
As I am scanning around for the enemy, or the villagers, with the corner of my eyes I see, Bahman, lost his balance and landed face down on the water.
I watch him struggling to stand on his feet.
“He was safe. The river is shallow, but forceful.”
He eventually gets to other side of the river. All soaked up in water.
It’s going to get cold at night, and I know I shouldn’t get wet. I walk up the river a little bit, and find several rocks across the river, spaced at jumping distances!
I jump from rock number one to number two and from two to three alright. As I try to jump on the fourth one, I slip and land on my feet, knee high in the water. Quickly, I try to grab the same rock, but the pressure of water pulls me along. I am not in no better shape than Bahman when I join him on other side!
I reach for my radio in my jacket. That has gone too!
“Bahman, I lost my radio, where is yours.” I ask
“Don’t worry, it’s in my bag Major.” The polite Bahman cannot stop calling me Major.
It’s 1400 now, and we start climbing a mountain. I hear the noise of sheep or goats grazing at distance. As we gain some height, we can now clearly see the crash site, and the place we had landed.
The plane is still on fire. And we see several villagers at our landing site in search of souvenirs! We spot two of them with our orange life raft on their head, running towards their village. The villagers have no idea about our where about! Or they might think, we were killed in the plane.
We keep on climbing, and I am very exhausted. I guess because of the surgery I had a month ago.
At around 1500, we reach the pea
k of the mountain, and find a valley on other side, with a dirt road underneath.
“I think the villagers use this road for their transportation. So we need to stay off of this road.” I say.
“How about we rest here and travel at night. It serves two purposes. Number one; nobody will see us. And number two; we stay warm. During the day, we hide somewhere and rest.” I suggest.
“Anything you say, it’s fine with me Major!” Bahman agrees.
We sit on the ground, lean on to rocks, and look into our survival kits. “There are fishing line, hooks, and net. Different medicines; like, pain killers, anti diahirea. Mirrors, matches, water sweetener, shark repellent, insect killer, a compass, a couple of flares, and a can of water.”
Bahman says, “I am hungry.” We look around; there are sort of pecans shape nuts under the trees. We try a couple of them; “They are bitter and don’t taste good!”
I give him a hand full of wet raisins, and nuts; “They got wet when I fell in the river!”, and say, “I don’t think, these are poisonous. We are going to save some of these, and eat later on!”
“It’s a good idea.” Bahman agrees.
Back in our Air Base, “Bahram Firoozi”, “My Wing Man” lands unscratched from Iraqi’s Air Defense. “Obviously, the Iraqis SAM radar had locked on my plane, which was flying ahead of Number Two!”
He reports to Operation as; “Major Pourrezaee was shot down, and he did not eject, because I neither heard him saying he is going to eject, nor I heard his Personal Locater Beacon, “PLB”.” “Everybody in the Command Post think we are dead, and sadden.”
“PLB is a device incorporated in the ejection seat, which upon ejection, will activate and transmits an audio signal similar to Emergency vehicles siren.”
Everybody in the Command Post, including my Wing Man forgets the type of frequency on which the PLBs operate! The system is such, the transmitter and receiver must see each other. “As we broke in different directions, there were mountains in between, which prevented his radio to receive my ejection signal!”
Meanwhile our intelligent system in our Command Post receives transmission from Iraqis congratulating each other as they have shot down an Iranian plane, and ask their command post to send a helicopter and give the approximate location of the crash site.
An Iraqi helicopter takes off and heads towards our plane. She circles over the burning plane and transmits as, “We are over the Iranian plane. It’s still on fire. We don’t see her pilots around. The train is such we cannot land here. May be they are dead in the plane. Send some horse back riders to recover their bodies!”
The other side responded, “It’s going to take a week before horseback riders get there!”
Major Mahmood Eskanderi does his mission, lands, parks his plane in a shelter, and in place of going to Command Post to do the after flight report, goes home, eats his lunch, takes a nap, and at around 1500 goes to Command Post.
He finds everybody sad.
“What happened?” He asks Faraj.
“Jalil was shot down.” Faraj with a grim face responds.
“Did he eject?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because his Wing man did not receive his PLB.”
“I heard, and after finding out my wing Man is fine, then I thought may be one of our PLB is malfunctioning.” He gets excited.
We just got lucky, “Mahmood was on a similar mission on southern part of Baghdad also flying low, but when we ejected he was at the exact proper angle to receive our PLB.”
From now on, they decide to ask the Army Air Command to send search and rescue helicopters.
“Faraj, send a couple of Phantoms to search the crash site first.” Air Base Commander Orders.
“Yes Sir, if they are alive they will get in touch with our planes.” Faraj agrees.
At the same time, we are still in our hide out place between two huge rocks.
Referring to our Air Base, Bahman complains, “Aren’t they going to send a plane to find out whether we are dead or alive and rescue us?”
“We are almost 20 nautical miles inside enemy lines. It’s a very dangerous situation. I don’t think they are going to risk a plane and a couple of helicopters.” I make a statement.
“Do you have your hand gun with you?” I inquire.
“No, I forgot mine at home!” He feels sorry.
“Don’t worry. I have mine with fifty spare rounds.” I comfort him.
At around 1545, we hear a sound of a Jet in distance.
“It might be ours. Let’s talk to him!” Bahman hurried.
“No, it might be Iraqi’s. Let’s wait until we visually spot the plane.” I disagree – I am older than him!
We look around.
Minute later, we spot a Phantom at around five nautical miles away, in a right turn, appeared from behind the mountains.
I grab the radio from Bahman, pull it’s antenna out and transmit.
“The Phantom who is making a right turn, continue your turn.”
I had no idea about the name of the pilot, and neither his call sign!
“Jalil, is that you? I love your voice!” I recognize Faraj’s voice, and a drop of tear sheds over my eyes.
“Yes. Thank you Faraj. Continue your turn. Level off. Keep coming straight. Keep coming. Keep coming. You are passing over head now.”
I did not give him our exact location, because Iraqis could’ve listened too. I knew Faraj’s Weapon system Officer is going to make a note of our location from his Inertial Navigation system (INS).
“Sit tight, I am going to send rescue helicopters very soon.” Faraj assures us.
As he leaves, another Phantom appears low, overhead.
He is my course mate, Mahmood – “Maj. Mahmood Eskandari”.
“Jalil, sit tight; I am going to shoot down any Iraqi helicopter who attempt to approach you guys.” Mahmood transmits.“Thank you Mahmood. Be careful of mountains. You are flying very low.” I am concerned for his safety!
“You want to teach safety, no matter where you are!” He laughs. “Don’t worry.”
He is 31st. Tactical Fighter squadron Commander.
Faraj returns in a few minutes and says, “There are three helicopters on their way; one
214 and two Cobras for the escort.”
We have two top covers overhead now; Faraj, and Mahmood.
Iraqi’s radar can not detect our planes, but by picking up our communication, they suspect activities around the crash site and scramble a couple of Mig 23s.
As detected by our radars, the Migs are flying at 20, 000 feet high and can not visually see our planes that are flying very low.
It’s 1600 now. We hear bells on the neck of sheep and goats and their baa baa is getting closer. Minutes later we spot the whole herd on the trail underneath.
We need to avoid being seen by the Sheppard, or his herd dog.
Surprisingly, all of a sudden, a couple of goats appear ten feet away, staring at us!
“The herd dog might come after them. He is going to bark, letting the Sheppard to find where we are. He in turn is going to run to village and let the troopers to our hide out.” I fear our lives, and explain to Bahman.
We both throw a few rocks at them. One flees and the other follows him.
I am relieved!
“The helicopters are almost five miles away.” Faraj announces.
“I will talk to helicopters and guide them to our position. You lit a flare.” I assign who is going to do what.
The flares are made of an almost eight inches long cylindrical phosphorous tube with a ring on each side; “Day side” and the “Night side”. By pulling the day side ring, it gives a highly visible thick orange smoke; where as the night side will produce an orange flame with little smoke.
Minutes later, at a couple of miles away, we spot three helicopters appear from the East, heading exactly toward us; Two gunships “Cobra”, and one 214, rescue helicopters.
“We are at your dead ahead, two miles, next to two huge rocks, with a tree next to them.” I try to direct them to our location.
“No respond from the helicopters!” I wonder.
I repeat, “We are at your dead ahead, two miles, next to two huge rocks, with a tree next to them.”
“No response from the helicopters again!” I panic.
The helicopters were approaching fast.
I look at Bahman. He lit the flare alright; but no smoke.
“You pulled the night side. Pull the day side.” I yell.
I drop my radio and grab another flare and lit it up.
But by now, the helicopters crossed over our head and disappeared among the valleys.
I yell in radio, “You just passed us overhead!” But no response again!
Faraj, tell them to reverse their course and follow the exact course they are flying now. They are not receiving my radio.” I am nervous.
The whole valley is covered by orange smoke now. I hear Iraqis from far are running towards our direction.
The helicopters return; and we lit another two flares.
They easily spot us this time.
The Cobras circle in a tactical formation, and the 214 tries to find a close by site to land.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, the pilot points to the same trail in the valley below, and directs us to run to that location.
The Iraqis are still out of the gun range. I have my hand gun ready.
The valley is too steep for the helicopter to land.
She hovers. “In our surprise, this Army rescue helicopter has no hoist to drop down!”
“You go in first. I’ll cover you.” I say loud – I was armed, and he wasn’t!
Bahman jumps and grabs the skid. He is pulled in by a rescue man – Seargent Esmaeil Eilbaigi (Source: Iranian Air Industry Magazine).
I followed him, seconds later.
We shake hand with the rescue technician. I tap the pilots on their shoulder and thank them for their bravery – Lt. Esfehani, and Shahdadi (Source: Iranian Air Industry Magazine). They turn back and I shake their hands too. They offer us apples and pistachio which tasted so good.
As they were flying very low, I put my hands on the pilot’s back seat to make sure we are on the right course to Sare pole Zohab. At which time Lt. Esfehani said, “Don’t worry Major. We know these mountains like palm of our hands!”
We finally arrive in Sare pole Zohab. Hundreds of Army combatants greet us. They give us hot tea, and warm jacket.
I shake hands with the Cobra pilots in a sign of appreciation – one of them I remember the name for being from Bandare Anzali, Pishgah Hadian from a very popular family.
From there at dark, they fly us to Kermanshah, where we are served with Kentucky Fried Chicken!
Then, Kermanshah army Commander gave us his Chevy Blazer along with a driver, and a MP – These two were neatly dressed up. The driver carried a hand gun, and the MP, besides a hand gun was also equipped with a machine gun.
We eventually arrive in Shahrokhi. At the Gate, hundreds of people were waiting to greet us. They were so happy.
After an hour of physical examination, I go home. My Wife had prepared a big meal, and several fellow fighter pilots were waiting for me to arrive
Source: rahrovan artesh website - Story posted by Phoenix
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