Dalbandin & Chagai — memories of another day

This year, we are observing the 24th anniversary of Yaum-e-Takbir, May 28, 1998 when Pakistan was forced to come out of the nuclear closet.

On that auspicious day, as the news of Pakistan’s successful nuclear tests flashed by media centers throughout the world, two names gained prominence: Chagai Hills and the airstrip of Dalbandin.

While the nation recalls this historic event with euphoria, I reminisce over memories of an earlier visit to these historical places.

Dalbandin of today is a far cry from what it was when duty and fate first brought me to this airstrip in 1976. Located 30 kms South of the Chagai, nestled among the sand dunes, Dalbandin presented a forlorn picture. I had no realisation that one day this forsaken and forgotten strip would attract international attention.

That fateful day on 11th December, 1976, a Canadian pilot and I landed on this strip for a recce visit.

We were to set camp at Dalbandin for six months. I was then serving in the PAF as a Flight Lieutenant and was attached to the Geological Survey of Pakistan (GSP) to fly with a Canadian set of Aircrew, commissioned to conduct Aeromagnetic Survey of Sind and Balochistan on an Aero Commander B-500 aircraft under the aegis of the Colombo Plan.

Work had already commenced in September, 1976, and one of my colleagues had been attached with the team for two months. When I joined them at Sukkur, the Survey of southern Balochistan was already complete.

On arrival, I found my colleague, whom I was replacing, to be in a hurry to depart. I urged him to stay a little longer and brief me on the project. He briefed me but he wouldn’t stay an hour extra. I had been told in the Squadron that I was being sent on a paid holiday. What a ‘holiday’ it turned out to be!

The project entailed flying a mosaic pattern of tracks about 25 kms long and half a kilometer apart and only 300 meters above ground level. Each sortie would be about eight hours a day with no Sundays or holidays. Maximum error allowed was 15 meters each side of the track. Any mission with an error had to be re-flown. The aircraft was fitted with an underbelly camera and a magnetometer attached to the tail. The camera would be turned on once we reached the area to be surveyed and the magnetometer would tick away recording the magnetic anomalies of the ground below.

Later, the results of the camera print and magnetic recordings would be interpreted through computers to prepare maps depicting the presence of minerals, their concentration and depth below the surface. During the mission the pilot focused on maintaining the accuracy of the track made good, while a mag/camera operator would be switching the equipment on and taking care of the miles of graph sheets recording the magnetic readings.

My job was to navigate to and back from the designated area of survey and to ensure they did not overfly any sensitive area and keep the camera off while flying in the vicinity of such installations.

Time at Sukkur passed rather quickly despite the monotony of the work. The Canadians were quite comfortable at the Inter Pak Inn and I had little or no inkling of the difficult days ahead.

As mentioned in the earlier paragraphs, on 11 December, after completing our survey of the day, we decided to carry out a recce of Dalbandin Airport as this was to be our abode for the next couple of months.

We located the airstrip from an altitude but as we made the approach for landing, the strip disappeared! Its outlines were visible only from a height but as we came lower, the sand dunes and sand accumulated on top of the runway obscured it from our view.

Climbing again, we re-located the airfield, set visual references and attempted to land again. It was difficult to find a clear patch to put the aircraft down but we managed to do so.

After touch-down, it was clear that we could not take off again without clearing the sand from the runway. There was no ATC, no airfield staff, just some curious onlookers and children.

The status of Dalbandin was in true sense a “disused airfield”. Since we had come unannounced the GSP had not positioned any transport either. We walked to the Dalbandin “Town” and asked if any one had a tractor which we could borrow.

To our dismay, we were told that the town did not have a single tractor but friendly inhabitants of Dalbandin loaned us the next best thing, two bullocks and a wooden plank.

We tied the wooden plank behind the bullocks and tried to clear the sand dunes. By now quite a crowd had gathered to watch “these crazy men in their flying machine”. We had to work fast to take off before sunset since none of us was prepared to spend a night at Dalbandin—at least not yet.

Preparations to move to Dalbandin were made and GSP was requested to have the airfield cleared as far as possible and make adequate preparations for boarding and lodging of the Canadians and myself.

On 20th December 1976, we finally reached Dalbandin. GSP had acquired a PWD rest house – which was of pre-partition vintage and in quite a dilapidated condition – for our stay. There was no Mess so GSP loaned me the facility of a cook while another cook was placed at the disposal of the Canadians but his services were declined by them since they were happy to live off canned food.

In my case, acquiring provisions, which were in short supply, was another challenge. Fresh vegetables were fresh only on Wednesdays because that was when the Quetta-Zahedan weekly train passed. Meat was to be had only on Fridays when an old animal, either a camel or ox was slaughtered and sold to customers on first come first served basis.

Local water was brackish and unfit for drinking. Fresh drinking water was also dependent on the Quetta-Zahedan train.
Dalbandin airstrip fascinated me very much.

This airfield had been constructed in 1935. Initially, its role was to serve as a satellite of Samungli Air Base at Quetta.

During the Second World War, it was made operationally ready by RAF to meet a possible Russian invasion through Iran. Each time we landed there; I was attracted by a group of broken-down Nissan huts located near the airfield. One day I decided to explore them.

As I went closer, I was saddened to see their dilapidated state. I was daydreaming of the hustle bustle and activity of the RAF Wapitis and Hurricane aircraft, which were once housed here. How air and ground crew must have busied themselves in their daily chores? Suddenly I was rudely shaken from my thoughts by a snarling shout. A big burly old Baluch stood barring my way. He scared me out of my wits and wanted to know why I was trespassing.

Gathering my composure, I inquired of him about the ownership of the property. I received a pleasant surprise when he told me that it belonged to Pakistan Air Force. I assured him that I too, was an officer of the Pakistan Air Force and wouldn’t steal anything — anyway there wasn’t anything worth-taking even for a souvenir.

At this he turned mellow and informed me that his name was Bulgak and he had been performing duties of a Chaukidar since the Second World War. This made the whole scene even more fascinating.

Dalbandin of today is in stark contrast to what I left it in 1977.

After the Airport was taken over by CAA in 1985, it received a well-deserved face lift. It is now equipped with modern navigational aids, air traffic control facilities, passenger terminals and more important, a paved runway.

Every time we used to fly past Chagai Hill, it filled me with a premonition that one day it would be famous.

But it was a mistaken premonition. Because of the black colour of the mountain and the excited ticking of the Magnetometer, I had assumed that Chagai Hill was full of iron ore and its fame would come as a mineral source.

Destiny had reserved a totally different role for it. My premonition wasn’t misplaced. Treasures much more precious than the iron ore made themselves visible from the depths of Chagai 21 years later.

May 28th, 1998’s photographic images of Chagai Hill turning golden and then white during the nuclear explosion symbolise our finest hour — Yaum-e-Takbir (The day of greatness) in commemoration of the series of nuclear tests, which made Pakistan the seventh nation to possess nuclear weapons and the first in the Muslim world.

As a serving Group Captain then, it gives me immense pride to be part of a force, which played its role in making it possible.

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