At the Controls, Cleared for Takeoff and Wheels Up: A Typical Sortie in an AH in DRC

In my previous post I wrote about the life of a Co-Pilot. Here is the latest on how a typical sortie is from a Captian's perspective.

0600 hrs and still hustle bustle…….

On the million map Goma is a small magenta dot you can cover with a single Rajma or Soya bean. To the left is a broad splash of Blue that represents Lake Kivu and to its right (with the map oriented to the north if you please) is a blue rectangle which signifies Goma Air Field.

After the morning met briefing, I'm driving out of the IAC Camp to the Air field at early hrs on a Saturday morning for a fire support mission to troops carrying out Cordon and Search operations (CASO) at Walikale. It's a perfect day for flying: light breeze, cool, stable air. My AH the MI-25 -- a three crew, winged helicopter -- sits in the parking area. The MI-25 is great for its ruggedness and the punishment it can take, as an armored helicopter, is tremendous. To top it all the militia are genuinely scared of this machine.

At 0630 hrs (UTC), the UN dispersal is already abuzz with activity -- what with five different types of helicopters operating form one tight dispersal. The hustle bustle of the dispersal is compounded by the MOVCON (Movement Control) vehicles conveying passengers and load to the MI-26 and the Civil MI-8 parked in two different corners of the dispersal. There is a faded sign of Goma International Air Port reminding one of Goma’s lost glory.

Pilots talk with their hands. They can't help it...

As I approach the dispersal I notice two MI-17 pilots going towards their helicopter. Pilots have this tendency to talk with their hands. They can't help it. I see these two going to the Aircraft talking about the sortie profile which to an untrained eye would appear as some kind of a combination of salsa and samba.

Ask about a particular maneuver -- and a hand shoots out at eye-level, banking and turning like an aircraft to show the effects of particular maneuver. Ask a pilot about his/her chopper and you've got some good stories. Ask about the weather and you've got a conversation.

In the meanwhile, my engineering officer calls to tell me that the last night’s rain has lead to shorting of some component in the electrical system during the morning inspection and the aircraft has to be changed. I tell myself that this couldn’t happen to me – I now have to send my co-pilot to the ALO(coordinating officer who coordinates the flying), Air Ops (a UN component which tracks all UN air traffic) and ATC (Air Traffic Control) to change the aircraft number and fill up the forms again. Many times as a pilot, a planned sortie goes haywire due to unserviceability, a trip gets cancelled due to lousy weather and once in a while a technical snag does tend to keep you down.

Being an attack helicopter pilot is largely about guts and glory. These “SMALL” frustrations don’t discourage you from moving ahead and you need to be a little obsessed with the idea to keep going. And it’s true that AH pilots are a little obsessed. To get to where we are today, we’ve gone through the grind what with all the tests, medicals and checks at regular intervals.

Anyway, My co-pilot expedites the paperwork and we are soon ready to start the engines. Obtaining startup takes some time because the change of tail number has not reached the Air Traffic Controller and with a lot of difficulty I explain in my broken French that we have filed a fresh flight plan. I hate to criticize someone but I would like to speak a little on the role of the various ATCs in DRC. Far from being a tool for maintaining smooth traffic flow, the controllers here are clueless to say the least, their prime concern being to maintain their own flight logs of aircraft movements. So the responsibility for listening out on R/T and maintaining the necessary separation would lie entirely with the pilots. To add to the confusion, expect a lot of R/T natter in French/Russian/swahili/Lingala and other languages. A rudimentary knowledge of French would be helpful. The Air Ops however, is a little more helpful and we soon are ready to start.

In my car, I use… maybe two or three gauges while driving. In a MI-25 there are more than a forty....

I get into the cockpit and strap the helicopter onto my back and commence my preflight checks. In the meanwhile, my Flight Engineer checks the serviceability of all instrument readings off the gauges in the cockpit and checks the position of the switches. In my car, I use maybe two or three gauges while driving. In a MI-25 there are more than forty. The main set—a six-pack of gauges just below eye level—are the important ones: the altimeter, airspeed indicator, attitude indicator, turn coordinator, heading indicator and vertical speed indicator.

Going through the preflight checklist, I can’t see which switches are which because for one thing, the labels are worn off from 20 years of use, but the fact that I have over 1000 hours on type and the fact that I’ve been flying these machines for 10 years now helps me to read them with a high level of comfort.

While on the subject of instruments I must tell you all about Navigation instruments. All flying here is on the GPS, so ensure their serviceability but be cautious about cross checking the coordinates of a place on the map before following the GPS blindly. The thumb rule is you might forget to take the helicopter when you go for a sortie. But don’t forget the GPS.

Kick the tire and light the fire……..

I start up the helicopter and suddenly everything in front of me starts jiggling—the engine gauges and the fuel gauges are bouncing all over the place. I talk to my cojo(copilot) through the intercom in my Flying helmet. It’s rather tight in this helicopter unlike a MI-17 with all the instrumentation and equipment stuffed in the small area.

As I ask for taxi, I see the MI-17 taxing out. I tell my cojo, “Let’s wait for this guy,” and he points out the windshield at another MI-8 on base leg. Once these two have done their T/O and landing, I taxy out and line up for R/W 36 and ask for a T/O.

Fortunately this time there is no altercation with the controller and we are smoothly on our outbound course. As I roll out, I notice how the volcanic lava has spread all around the runway and the way it has devastated the small town of Goma. Next I see the tall trees all around, the volcanic mounds all over and a wall of green. Who in his right mind flies here, I wonder.

There’s a weird intimacy in an AH. You feel as if you are all alone, speaking quietly through mic and headphones while defying the tendency of the churning machine to plummet....

At 115 knots or about 210 km/hr, as we clip over the trees and mountains west of Goma, we start bouncing around up to 8,000 feet heading for Masisi leaving the Goma airspace. There’s a weird intimacy in an AH. You feel as if you are all alone, speaking quietly through headphones while defying the tendency of the churning machine to plummet....

Inspite the three crew environ, you feel as if you are alone (primarily due to the fact that the aircraft has tandem seating and none of the crew can converse face to face with each other). I level off at 7500 feet and commence my cruise to Masisi. During this phase, among the things you have to think about are; other traffic, airspeed, altitude, rate of climb/descent and a constant lookout for a field to put down the aircraft in case of an emergency.

From 1,500 feet Above Ground Level, the terrain looks like a painting of a country landscape —A green carpet adorns its vast lands interspersed with hills all over with a sprinkling of quaint little villages, seeming to nestle comfortably at the base of the hills. The frequent thought again comes to my mind – why do people fight when there is an abundance of everything. But then thinking of such things are beyond my mandate!!!

“Get a feel for what to expect.”

As I settle down for a flight of leisure, an AN-2 (a small, primitive aircraft) suddenly whizzes past me in the reciprocal direction at the same level and my heart misses a beat. Fortunately it’s missed my helicopter by 200 m. This is not the first of the near misses but I sincerely hope that it’s the last. Such near misses are a regular feature and the MONUC is trying its best to rein in these bush pilots and indoctrinate the controllers in ensuring that at least the reciprocal traffic is passed to the aircrafts. Is this what I’ve dreamed about—or perhaps dreaded? Flying out here in the bush with unguided bullets flying around!!! Sorties flown in this sector need something more than airmanship. I have coined a new phrase for it-- “hyper vigilance”. And do remember there is only one sky and “seating is limited.”

At this point, I hand over controls to the cojo and commence scan for any hostile activity on the ground at Masisi. I see some uniformed personnel walking in a file towards Masisi. These men turn out to be the FARDC (local govt troops)soldiers which we had been briefed by the ALO about. By the way I forgot to mention something about my ALO. His communication skills are fabulous and he believes in keeping briefs short like a skirt—short enough to be interesting but long enough to cover the vitals.

“Use flight following, and if there is a need to put down………., do it after you inform somebody”.

Every 20 minutes or so I give a an ops normal call to the Air Ops where the Flight Following keeps tabs on the all the UN aircrafts. The Flight following system of MONUC is a very effective tool for keeping track of all the aircraft movements. Basically, half hourly position reports are to be passed to the Air Ops on VHF/HF frequencies. My own Ops room also maintains the same frequencies to keep track of own aircraft. This procedure needs to be followed meticulously. Another important aspect is calling up the Air Ops to inform them of an emergency. Use flight following, and if there is a need to put down the helicopter, do it after you inform somebody. If possible inform the Air Ops as they man the R/T throughout the period of ac operations.

Here come the heli……..

The rest of the sortie to Walikale is uneventful and we reach there in time to marry up with the INDBAT troops conducting the CASO operations. There is a minor confusion when the Gd Cdr call up on the ICOM(air frequency) “ Heli aa gaya ab koi Darr Nahi……chalo kaam shuru karain.” instead of doing so on the Motrola(ground frequency). However soon things are soon set right and we establish an orbit overhead while INDBAT troops commence the search. It’s our lucky day as the affair turns out to be a tame one and the Fire support requirement ends within twenty minutes, with nothing untowards being spotted.

Good copied next call on ground…

We set course back for Goma directly when the need for fire support is over. I am keen to go back to the crew room and plan my R&R(local holiday) along with another colleague of mine. As I approach 10 miles inbound to Goma, I inform Goma Tower about my intentions to rejoin. The tower replies “Good Copied, next call on ground.” As I approach overhead, I find that I am third in line to carry out landing and none of the traffic was told to me. I realise for the nth time that no matter which route you take you— and almost everyone else—will end up converging over. Who wants to risk life and limb mixing in with a swarm of helicopters all intent on landing in the same place at approximately the same time? We do our own tying up and coordinate the landing based on need and proximity to the helipad.

All is well that ends well…..

Well, we land back on the apron at northern end and taxi back to the dispersal and switch off after which I unstrap the helicopter off my back. I am happy coz All's well that ends well.

“Don’t let my monologue intimidate you”. Just follow the common sense and for those more inclined to nature, “horse sense” and you’ll be safe. And once on the ground, it’ll give you a great feeling of accomplishment.” Imagine! Each sortie will give you that- definitely worth the investment.