Written by C-47 Dakota Captain, Flying Officer Mukhtar Ahmad Dogar
"I took off in the early morning of 4th November, 1948. Weather was fine and spirits high. Winding my way through, by now the familiar, Indus Valley, I para-dropped my load at the sandy bed near Skardu. Pleased with yet another successful drop, I had given over the controls to Flying Officer Jagjivan, on the way back to relax a little. We were somewhere over Chilas when I sighted two Tempests above. I took them for our own aircraft.
On our way out to Skardu, I had no visual warning from our army posts on the ground about the presence of enemy aircraft in the area. Our own fighter aircraft too did occasionally sneak across to exercise their limbs in the bracing climate of the Nanga Parbat mountain.It was only when these fighters came close that I discovered their true identity. I quickly went back
to the controls. The Indians seemed, seriously, to grudge me my momentary relaxation which I thought I had earned.
The valley at Chilas is about four to five miles wide and allows for an easy manoeuvring of an aircraft. I weaved along, enroute to Risalpur base. The Tempests ordered me to go to the nearest Indian airfield. I took no notice of it. The order was repeated three times, but I did not respond. The Indians at this stage threatened to shoot me down if I did not obey and to show that they were armed they fired a free burst. I pressed on regardless, my main concern being to get to the narrower portion of the valley as quickly as I could with full throttles on.
Unaware of the situation, the Pakistan Army personnel on board feeling rather uncomfortable and uneasy under the strain of unusually rough flying, approached me with a request for straight and level cruise. They appeared to be under an impression that I was trying to impress them with my skill.
A fateful realisation came over them as they learnt that I was fighting not for my own life but for theirs too. They quickly returned to their seats. Flying Officer Jagjivan and Naik Mohammad Din, however, stood in the open door of the aircraft watching what was to come to them a minute later.
In the meantime, one of the Indians broke off, gained height and came into attack. He meant business this time and fired a full burst of 20 mm at us, fatally wounding Naik Mohammad Din and knocking Flying Officer Jagjivan unconscious with a profusely bleeding right arm. By now, I had got to the narrow mouth of the valley. In the midst of all this I had asked Air Signaller Mohsin to stand out in the astro-hatch and kick me every time the fighters came in for a kill. Thrice I was kicked and thrice with quick half throttle, full flaps and left rudder I successfully eluded death. I had come down now to deck level, scrapping almost along river water surface well out of the fighters reach.
A feeling of comparative safety gets people talking defiantly. So, after their last attack I told the Indians, ‘If you haven’t got me so far, you will never get me’. They understood and pushed off. The encounter had lasted 20 to 25 minutes. Earlier, when the Indian pilots had asked me to go to the nearest Indian airfield they had felt too sure of having air-arrested me.
For me it was a question, not only of ‘to be or not to be’ but also that of Pakistan’s prestige. Looking back I can only say that we were lucky, unarmed as we were to escape not totally unharmed, to home base to report the incident."
For this act of gallantry, Flying Officer Dogar was subsequently
awarded Pakistan’s high operational award of Sitara-e-Jurat. Later,
Dogar retired, from the PAF, as Air Commodore.