In the wake of Nepal's recent flash floods, the threat of Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has come to the forefront. A compelling account from 2015 in Ladakh details how a similar potential disaster was mitigated through remarkable inter-agency cooperation. A landslide had dammed the Phutkal river, leading to the formation of a substantial glacial lake that endangered numerous downstream villages. The Indian Air Force, particularly its 'Siachen Pioneers' squadron equipped with Cheetal helicopters, was instrumental in providing vital reconnaissance and transporting essential personnel and equipment to the challenging, high-altitude location. This operation, named Operation Phutkal, involved a multi-faceted mitigation strategy, including the creation of a controlled drainage channel and the pre-emptive evacuation of thousands of residents. Although the dam eventually breached, the proactive measures and excellent teamwork ensured no lives were lost, highlighting the critical importance of preparedness and swift action in managing such natural calamities.

In the wake of Nepal's recent flash floods, the threat of Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has come to the forefront. A compelling account from 2015 in Ladakh details how a similar potential disaster was mitigated through remarkable inter-agency cooperation. A landslide had dammed the Phutkal river, leading to the formation of a substantial glacial lake that endangered numerous downstream villages. The Indian Air Force, particularly its 'Siachen Pioneers' squadron equipped with Cheetal helicopters, was instrumental in providing vital reconnaissance and transporting essential personnel and equipment to the challenging, high-altitude location. This operation, named Operation Phutkal, involved a multi-faceted mitigation strategy, including the creation of a controlled drainage channel and the pre-emptive evacuation of thousands of residents. Although the dam eventually breached, the proactive measures and excellent teamwork ensured no lives were lost, highlighting the critical importance of preparedness and swift action in managing such natural calamities.

In the wake of Nepal's recent flash floods, the threat of Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has come to the forefront. A compelling account from 2015 in Ladakh details how a similar potential disaster was mitigated through remarkable inter-agency cooperation. A landslide had dammed the Phutkal river, leading to the formation of a substantial glacial lake that endangered numerous downstream villages. The Indian Air Force, particularly its 'Siachen Pioneers' squadron equipped with Cheetal helicopters, was instrumental in providing vital reconnaissance and transporting essential personnel and equipment to the challenging, high-altitude location. This operation, named Operation Phutkal, involved a multi-faceted mitigation strategy, including the creation of a controlled drainage channel and the pre-emptive evacuation of thousands of residents. Although the dam eventually breached, the proactive measures and excellent teamwork ensured no lives were lost, highlighting the critical importance of preparedness and swift action in managing such natural calamities.

In the aftermath of the recent tragic flash floods in Nepal, GLOF (Glacial Lake Outburst Floods) has gained attention. These result from the sudden, catastrophic release of water from a lake that has formed near a glacier, when the natural dam, formed by an avalanche or landslide, suddenly gives way.

Allow me to narrate an incident from 2015 when we faced a similar threat in Ladakh, and everyone lived to tell the tale.

As a one-star officer then, I was the Air Officer Commanding (AOC) of the Indian Air Force (IAF) Station at Leh—one of my most memorable and enriching tenures. Leh airfield is a vital air link for Ladakh—where the civil flights land and IAF transport aircraft regularly bring in all manner of supplies, particularly during the long and harsh winters when road connectivity used to get cut off by snow.

The base hosted a vital asset, a helicopter unit named ‘The Siachen Pioneers’, which had an illustrious history of operating over the Siachen Glacier since 1984. They had recently been re-equipped with the HAL-built Cheetal helicopter, a much improved version of the familiar Cheetah.  Only this unit flew it then, and the Cheetal proved its worth when the chips were down.

The gallant ‘Siachen Pioneers’ are held in high regard by all, and rightly so. While flying over villages deep in the Zanskar valley, I have seen ‘Thank you, Siachen Pioneers’ written in large white letters—intended to be read from the air—heartfelt acknowledgements of some past acts of rescue or critical support.

The outfit is normally full of eager young pilots, which gives it a different level of energy and cohesion. It even has a special ‘unit song’ which is pretty much incomprehensible to an outsider, even when the singers are sober. Radio call signs of pilots, by which they identify themselves in the air, are named after Greek Gods and heroes, no less - like ‘Ares’ and ‘Hercules’! Needless to say, in their able hands, the sprightly Cheetal was a super performer.

In February 2015, we received a request from the Deputy Commissioner (DC) of Leh for a reconnaissance flight over the Phutkal river in Zanskar valley in Kargil district. The young DC was a favourite of ours owing to his proactive approach and positive attitude. We were told that a major landslide had caused a natural dam blocking the river and a glacial lake was forming, posing a threat to downstream villages.

Now, the single-engined Cheetals fly in pairs as they soar over inhospitable terrain of the high Himalayas, mostly out of radio contact with any air base. This is so that if one aircraft faces a technical problem, the other can quickly pitch in with rescue efforts.
Thus, two Cheetals got airborne the next morning as the sun came up. The pilots visually identified the landslide area, saw the blockage in the river and observed build-up of the glacial lake which was already 5 km long.

Eventually, after analysis and deliberations by the National Disaster Management Agency (NDMA), a joint task force and multi-agency mitigation plan were approved. A joint team duly arrived in Leh.

Their plan was to create a controlled drainage channel in the natural dam, which was 2000 feet long and 200 feet high, by conducting selective low intensity blasts. It also called for alerting systems, evacuation plans and coordination protocols for the villages along the assessed high risk zone, approximately 90 km downstream to Padum town.

And thus, Operation Phutkal started in earnest for us. The IAF was given the key task of transporting men and material all the way up to the obstructing dam located at about 14,000 feet above sea level.

We realised that while the intent appeared clear on paper, the plan was anything but easy. We faced major aviation challenges apart from the distances involved – high terrain, very narrow and steep valleys, lack of suitable landing spots, high wind speeds and the ongoing winter which necessitated special protective clothing and tentage.

The ace up our sleeve was the redoubtable Cheetal, which could land on a dime at high altitude, while carrying more load than the Cheetah. However, once operational planning commenced, we came up on a critical lacuna – the lack of a proximate operating base at a lower altitude from which frequent shuttles could be done in the morning hours, before turbulence made flying difficult for these lightweight helicopters.

Just as the hurdle started to look insurmountable, youngsters proposed a somewhat workable, albeit risky option – they had found a small wooded clearing at the valley bottom at around 12,000 feet. They named it ‘Trident’, and seemed not in the least bit deterred by the demanding one-way approach they would have to fly, or by the limited real estate available to manoeuvre in once they landed. It is rightly said, ‘the young are brave because they don’t know the limits of the possible’.

The next day, the Commanding Officer (mighty ‘Zeus’ himself!) was kind to permit me to fly as co-pilot of the no.2 helicopter. Rather brave of him too, considering my relative inexperience on the Cheetal.

When I saw ‘Trident’ for the first time, a stamp-sized, forested clearance at the bottom of a steep gorge, it sure did not look very inviting. But what did I know, having mostly flown the huge 13 Tonne Mi-17 helicopters with their penchant for ever larger landing areas!

Fuel was the next challenge. Padum, the nearest helipad where Mi-17s could land, was a bit too far. Finally, we chose a closer Army helipad at Char where aviation fuel could be kept in barrels for the Cheetals to sip from.

As the Task Force Commander, the ball was now in my court. Keeping in mind the gravity of the situation, I recommended up the chain of command that we should go ahead, and that the attendant risks were worth taking.

So that is how it finally worked. Mi-17s carried heavier loads from Leh to Padum, and numerous Cheetals transferred it to ‘Trident’. From there, carrying only the minimum required fuel to keep their weight low; a few Cheetals, manned by their best heroes, took turns to carry men and critical loads up to the dam site. They made the difficult climb and landed as best as they could, at times keeping only one skid of the helicopter on the ground or dropping the load from very low hover, in what can only be called the epitome of professional piloting skills.

For my part, I flew to Padum and Char to oversee activities, but stayed well away from ‘Trident’ –  having no desire to subject pilots to the extra pressure of having a senior guy on board, particularly when operating at their limits. I felt that this was rather appreciated by the Greek gods!

Back home in Leh, we met with all agencies every evening, and the DC’s unfailing presence helped move things along. We coordinated the carriage of personnel from government agencies and the Army, as well as specialised handheld drilling machinery, demolition equipment, survival shelters, ropes, communication equipment, rations and anything else required.

To their credit, the team persevered. We were informed that a shallow channel was built to facilitate gradual outflow of water, and monitoring and early warning systems set up. These steps provided breathing space for the administration to prepare and organise evacuations of some 3,000 people from 40 villages.

Despite the massive and unprecedented efforts, the glacial lake continued to grow. The onset of spring sped up the glacier melt, and the temporary dam gave way at 8.10 AM on May 7, 2015. A wall of water roared down the Zanskar valley, sweeping away bridges, schools, several houses and flooding agricultural fields as far away as Nimu near Leh.

Creditably, there were no human casualties thanks to the advance warning and sound planning, and the extent of damage was less than what could have been. For instance, at the NHPC dam at Aichi, the forewarned engineers tackled the floodwaters appropriately, thereby protecting the villages downstream.

What finally saved the day was the excellent teamwork between the agencies involved and the resultant timely interventions. It helped that correct information was available and was acted upon swiftly.

Through it all, I do believe that the small but significant role played by the IAF went a long way. ‘Siachen Pioneers’ lived up to their legacy, contributing as much as their alter egos in the air - the Greek heroes - would have. Kudos to them for their ‘never say die’ attitude and sublime flying skills.

(The author is a proud Veteran with four decades of service in the Indian Air Force.)

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