IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 93- THANKS AD GUYS Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

“It’s surely enemy drones,” I muttered to myself, squinting at the dark sky on that blackout night as a sinister humming sound buzzed overhead.
And suddenly—flashback! My mind drifted to 1990. Someone standing over a sand model had confidently declared, “Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) is round the corner.” I had waited... and waited... and honestly, I didn’t see it. Not till I hung my boots three years ago.
But tonight—there it was. The RMA. Hovering right above my head, like an uninvited UFO with possibly explosive intentions.

As a civilian (yes, a retired fauji is technically a civilian, but don’t tell my moustache that), there's not much you can do in such a moment—except pray the warhead hits a few metres away from you and not dead centre. I wondered what the Air Defence (AD) guys were doing. And just then—bam! Guilt hit me harder than a court of inquiry.

For most of my career, I had treated AD officers like Fair & Lovely cream—apply when needed, and then toss aside.
It all started in the Academy. Our general consensus? “AD guys are going to be in peace stations their whole life, cruising in air-conditioned vehicles.” Jealous? Maybe. Wrong? Possibly.

Then came the Staff College exam prep. I remember struggling with the zillion types of weapon configurations. One smart aleck comforted me: “Don’t worry. Nobody asks AD questions. Even the paper-setters are terrified. Anyway, war’s not going to escalate to the Air Force.”
Classic words before drone warfare became the norm.

My first close encounter with AD came when I commanded an RR battalion. We had two companies of AD soldiers. I was sceptical about their counter-terror (CT) skills. That lasted... a week. With minimal guidance, they turned out to be absolute rockstars.

Later, as Director in Military Intelligence, I had two AD officers posted with me—unheard of in that CT-focused infantry bastion. My seniors raised eyebrows, but I soon realised these guys were sharper than me. (Not that I told anyone.)

Even as Brig Q, while pitching for new accommodation for an AD Brigade posted at a godforsaken location, I was told by a very senior officer, “These guys will always remain…” (He never finished the sentence. Probably ran out of stereotypes.)

Then there was that infamous story of an officer who had a nervous breakdown in an RR sector. He was replaced by an AD officer—whom I was sure would buckle under pressure. Nope. The sector ran smoother than ever. That same officer made the legendary “Hotshots CD”—a staff college lifesaver for many courses after. (If you know, you know.)

Truth is—AD guys are brilliant. Maybe too brilliant. They explain things with such jargon-packed complexity, commanders either keep them at arm’s length or pretend to understand. Someone even told me, “Hawai ladai to hone wali nahin hai”—air warfare is remote possibility. Some AD folks, frustrated with this neglect, resorted to nautanki just to be seen.

And then there’s the Air Force-AD tension. A few decades ago, the Air Force was paranoid, AD might accidentally shoot their aircraft down. (Spoiler: It actually happened in Pakistan.) Hence the ultra-strict rules of engagement.

But that night, I heard the AD guns thunder. Within seconds, the drones dropped like overcooked tandoori turkeys. Applause erupted. I stood up, gave a crisp salute, and said, “Good job, AD boys. You’ve done it again.”

That night, I actually started thinking hard to list points for modernising AD in light of this drone-RMA reality. Then I stopped myself and chuckled Din’ —“Anari ka sochna, soch ka satyanash.”

Note:-

1.       I wonder how many of you know the actual song ‘Anari Ka Khelna..’ of film ‘Woh Saat Din’. Some of the stalwarts must have hummed the corrupted version of the song.

2.       A follow button has been placed in the header. Please follow if the blogs bring a smile. 

 

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