Shabz Nist
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The man who bombed Karachi
December 8, 1971, 8.45 p.m., off the coast of Karachi.
It was pitch dark. Close to 30 Indians aboard INS Vinash, a tiny craft loaded with four missiles, were on a daring mission: to attack Karachi, Pakistan's busiest harbour. Vijay Jerath, the commanding officer of Vinash, was on quarterdeck watching the sea when the controls went on autopilot, thanks to an electrical failure.
“I was thinking that over the past six days, Vinash had experienced breakdown of the autopilot, and earlier in the evening, we had lost two AK-230 shells,'' he says. “Things happen in threes, we believe.”
Jerath, who had trained for over a year in Vladivostok in Russia, knew he could fire the missiles using battery power. “Essential services like autopilot and communication sets run on batteries,” he says in his raspy smoker's voice, a legacy of his days in Russia, where he spent most of his stipend on cigarettes. “Vinash had a lot of battery power. The only thing that would not work would be the radar Rangout—I was blinded. I could still fire my missiles using bearing and range data from one of the escorting ships.”
Not to alarm his seniors, Jerath sent out a message: “My radar non-operational. In case it does not come on in time, request one ship take station directly one mile astern and pass me bearings and ranges to fire my missiles.” There was a simple ‘roger out' in reply, he says.
The plan was to hide near the coastline and attack in groups. Whether they came back or not was not important. The mission, christened Operation Python, was meant to serve as an answer to the Pakistani attack on Dwarka in Gujarat during the 1965 war.
“I did not have to imagine the approaches to Karachi and the coastline. The naval chart in the enclosed bridge below had all the details, which I had acquainted myself with thoroughly before sailing from Bombay. The Python force was charging blindfolded into Karachi,” says Jerath.
However, as luck would have it, by 11 p.m. Vinash had her electrical power restored. “I charged down to have a look at the radar picture. The night was black, except for starlight,” he says. When the radar came back on, Jerath noticed that the ship had sailed off course. Later, like all sailors, he believed that his boat had a mind of her own. “As I plotted the ship's position and drew the course, the parallel ruler passed directly through the Keamari oil farm,” he says. “As soon as the first missile's checks were completed, I commenced the firing procedure. I put the range to ‘manual' and set it to maximum. I put the homing radar range to maximum and fired.”
Three more missiles were fired. By the fourth, Jerath remembers wondering where the Pakistani navy was. He would know only later that PNS Dacca, a Pakistan navy tanker, had narrowly escaped the bombardment. “The fourth missile was no less powerful than the others. Having read the accounts from across the border, I salute, in true naval style, the commanding officer of Dacca, who, with his acumen and presence of mind, saved his ship and her crew. Wars will come and go, and warriors shall continue to fight for their respective countries. But respect for each other must remain,” says Jerath.
After finishing Operation Python, he signalled: ‘Four Pigeons happy in their nests. Rejoining.' “In hindsight, a totally crazy signal,” says Jerath. He received a reply: ‘From F-15 to Vinash: this is the best Diwali that we have ever seen.'
It was 11:30 p.m. “Karachi burnt for seven days and seven nights,” he says with a broad smile.
The Week | The man who bombed Karachi
December 8, 1971, 8.45 p.m., off the coast of Karachi.
It was pitch dark. Close to 30 Indians aboard INS Vinash, a tiny craft loaded with four missiles, were on a daring mission: to attack Karachi, Pakistan's busiest harbour. Vijay Jerath, the commanding officer of Vinash, was on quarterdeck watching the sea when the controls went on autopilot, thanks to an electrical failure.
“I was thinking that over the past six days, Vinash had experienced breakdown of the autopilot, and earlier in the evening, we had lost two AK-230 shells,'' he says. “Things happen in threes, we believe.”
Jerath, who had trained for over a year in Vladivostok in Russia, knew he could fire the missiles using battery power. “Essential services like autopilot and communication sets run on batteries,” he says in his raspy smoker's voice, a legacy of his days in Russia, where he spent most of his stipend on cigarettes. “Vinash had a lot of battery power. The only thing that would not work would be the radar Rangout—I was blinded. I could still fire my missiles using bearing and range data from one of the escorting ships.”
Not to alarm his seniors, Jerath sent out a message: “My radar non-operational. In case it does not come on in time, request one ship take station directly one mile astern and pass me bearings and ranges to fire my missiles.” There was a simple ‘roger out' in reply, he says.
The plan was to hide near the coastline and attack in groups. Whether they came back or not was not important. The mission, christened Operation Python, was meant to serve as an answer to the Pakistani attack on Dwarka in Gujarat during the 1965 war.
“I did not have to imagine the approaches to Karachi and the coastline. The naval chart in the enclosed bridge below had all the details, which I had acquainted myself with thoroughly before sailing from Bombay. The Python force was charging blindfolded into Karachi,” says Jerath.
However, as luck would have it, by 11 p.m. Vinash had her electrical power restored. “I charged down to have a look at the radar picture. The night was black, except for starlight,” he says. When the radar came back on, Jerath noticed that the ship had sailed off course. Later, like all sailors, he believed that his boat had a mind of her own. “As I plotted the ship's position and drew the course, the parallel ruler passed directly through the Keamari oil farm,” he says. “As soon as the first missile's checks were completed, I commenced the firing procedure. I put the range to ‘manual' and set it to maximum. I put the homing radar range to maximum and fired.”
Three more missiles were fired. By the fourth, Jerath remembers wondering where the Pakistani navy was. He would know only later that PNS Dacca, a Pakistan navy tanker, had narrowly escaped the bombardment. “The fourth missile was no less powerful than the others. Having read the accounts from across the border, I salute, in true naval style, the commanding officer of Dacca, who, with his acumen and presence of mind, saved his ship and her crew. Wars will come and go, and warriors shall continue to fight for their respective countries. But respect for each other must remain,” says Jerath.
After finishing Operation Python, he signalled: ‘Four Pigeons happy in their nests. Rejoining.' “In hindsight, a totally crazy signal,” says Jerath. He received a reply: ‘From F-15 to Vinash: this is the best Diwali that we have ever seen.'
It was 11:30 p.m. “Karachi burnt for seven days and seven nights,” he says with a broad smile.
The Week | The man who bombed Karachi
Thanks for sharing. Always love a good commando type tale
