Jamnagar is a small town located on the Gulf of Kachh. It’s a small town, and back in the 1980s it wasn’t known for much beyond a textile mill and some salt making facilities. Cricket buffs may have known of the town as the home of Ranjit Singhji. Jamnagar also has a significantly large Air Force and Naval base and a small Army unit. Due to the town’s small size the armed forces were a significant influence in the city.

My first clear memory of Jamnagar is waking up in the morning to the sound of sonic booms of MiG fighters. The year was 1985, and we had just arrived at the base the evening before as my father had been posted in as Senior Logistics Officer of 33 Wing after a tenure at AirHQ, Delhi. I was especially excited because we had lived in a civil area in Delhi and it had been a few years since we had lived on a proper base.

There were two fighter squadrons at Jamnagar, No 29 flying MiG 21 FL and No 45 flying the MiG 21 Biz which was a later variant. While we were there, No 45 Squadron was actually moved to Nalia which had just been built as a brand new base. The base is also home to TACDE (Tactics and Air Combat Development Establishment) which is a training ground for the finest fighter pilots of the IAF and is maintained at one and a half squadron strength. Along with fighters, there is also a Helicopter unit based out of Jamnagar, though if memory serves me right these choppers were meant for search and rescue, transportation etc and were not outfitted to be gunships.

An essential part of being a teenager is to seek out adventure and few places can rival an Air Force base to provide such an environment. As we entered the base for the first time, we drove past the officer’s mess with “Where Eagles Dare” emblazoned in black Gothic lettering at the entrance. The mess is the center of social life at the base and this one was no different. It was exceptional in the sense that the mess had a movie every night, rare in the days when a VCR was a novelty, and my parents had a hard time controlling my urge to see a movie every night.

Then there was also the pool where we spent our afternoons and weekends. The highest dive board overlooked the technical area of the base and one could stand there and watch the awesome majesty of fighter planes as they landed and the drag parachute popped out to facilitate the landing. The pool was also where we were the day Jamnagar had been expecting a hurricane. We had seen all the excitement the previous day when the hurricane was approaching the city.

All the planes had taken off the night before to fly inland and the constant roars of the engines had kept us up. So there we were splashing around in the pool waiting for the hurricane and at the last minute it turned towards Karachi. We heard on the news that emergency had been declared in Karachi but we felt quite cheated for being left in the lurch. Now that I think back, the roars of the jet engines were a consistent part of our life there. Our school was in the base, coincidentally right next to the runway, and so prayers, lessons and the like were often interrupted by the noise of planes taking off and landing.

There were also social activities like melas held by the base. Their would be stalls set up by various squadrons, ground duty departments etc for food and games. The most popular stalls would be the ones where the prize was a bottle of beer, especially because Gujarat is a dry state and the civilians had no easy access to alcohol. For us kids, games like Throw the Ring and Lucky Seven would be the main draw, the end result being empty pockets.

The activities at the base provided occasional excitement. In particular were the GDPAD (Ground Defense Passive Air Defense) exercises which were held on a periodic basis. Blackouts would be enforced throughout the base and Air Force Police jeeps with blackened headlights would drive around to enforce it. There would also be extraordinary amount of flying and the silence of the night would constantly be destroyed with the roar of jets taking of and landing. As children, our imaginations would run wild and we would imagine Pakistani planes flying over us and Indian planes taking off to indulge in dogfights.

Another extraordinary time that stands out in my memory is the arrival of the Mirages from France and the gigantic IL76s accompanying them carrying spare parts etc. The 80s were a time of rapid modernization of the IAF, and the Mirages were a part of a series of acquisitions. The planes would take off from France, stop for refueling somewhere in the middle east and then land at Jamnagar for customs and other formalities before deploying to other bases. Our AOC allowed the children to go and see the planes in the technical area on one day and though the Mirages were sharp looking, it was the gigantic IL 76 planes that awed me.

A great favorite was also the trip to the bombing range, located a few kilometers away from the actual base itself. We would sit in the control tower watching the planes streak by across the canopy of the red sky and the setting sun. The planes would launch missiles at stationary targets and we would listen to the disembodied voice of the pilot coming across the radio receiver. It was hard to imagine the pilot doing all this wonderful stuff was the same person we might see at the local grocer or playing Tombola at the Officer’s Mess.

There are sad memories as well. The Air Force is not all fun and games, it is also a fighting organization and people die not just in war but even when maintaining the peace. We would hear of crashes, young anonymous pilots meeting their end in a flaming wreck or in the sea. An event that stands out is the day before Holi when three AN 32 planes were expected from Russia. The AN 32s, medium sized transport planes, were new acquisitions as well and as far as I remember, were supposed to be replacements for Dakotas that were to be phased out.

That night there was the usual hum of activity that marked the arrival of planes from abroad. Since AN32s are big slow flying aircraft, the flight path dictates some gap in landing times. The first plane landed and then the second. However the crew of the second plane said that the plane which had not arrived had been in front of them. Immediately all existing planes and choppers were pressed into a search and rescue mode. All night the search carried on and into the next day, and yet not one piece of debris was found. The Holi function the next day was obviously held in a somber mood.

It may seem strange that a celebratory function was held a day after a plane had gone down with officers and crew and one may be justified in looking askance at the seeming heartlessness. It must be mentioned though that the Armed Forces in general and specifically in India have the ethos that the show must go on. Comrades will die and they will be mourned yet life must go on.

At the time there were rumours that the plane may have drifted into Pakistani airspace and been shot or forced down, only because of lack of debris or any signal of distress. However, the mystery still remains about the fate of the plane and no conclusive evidence of what exactly happened or the cause of the crash was ever found. As is typical in the Air Force, we were posted out and moved to another base and it was time to explore another town, join another school and make new friends.

Though I had moved with my family to various bases before Jamnagar and after, the memories of that particular stay have stayed with me. I guess Jamnagar was a unique experience for me because I was at an age where I could enjoy the romance and excitement of living on a fighter base in close proximity to all the activity. The desire to move to Delhi, the lights and fast paced life of the big city, would come much later.