The air inside INS Mysore was thick with tension, punctuated only by the faint hum of machinery and the soft whir of ventilation systems. The warship, cutting through the dark waters of the Persian Gulf on the night of November 17, 2001, was a silent sentinel in a region fraught with peril. Onboard, the crew maintained a vigilant watch, their roles precise and critical. Among them was Petty Officer Bidyadhar Nayak, the ship’s lone Electronic Warfare Officer. Seated within the steel confines of the electronic warfare compartment, surrounded by hundreds of buttons and switches, Nayak was the ship’s first line of defence against invisible threats in the electromagnetic spectrum.
Each blip and crackle on his AJANTA console carried the weight of potential danger, representing an enemy signal waiting to be deciphered. The Gulf of Oman, with its crowded maritime and aerial corridors, was a cacophony of electromagnetic activity. Multiple ships, each radiating unique radar frequencies, created an electromagnetic wave clutter that tested even the most seasoned operators. Ships from Iran, Kuwait, and allied forces added layers of complexity, making it immensely challenging for Nayak to distinguish friend from foe in this chaotic electronic battlefield.
The “War Against Terrorism,” a coalition effort led by the United States and United Kingdom, had brought INS Mysore into these contested waters. The task was clear: detect, classify, and respond to any threats that emerged, ensuring the safety of Indian forces and their allies.
As Nayak monitored the AJANTA system, his eyes scanned the screen with unwavering focus. Hours had turned into days of relentless observation, the monotony occasionally broken by the thrill of identifying a new signal. On this night, something unprecedented occurred. A new blip materialized—a signal so distinct that it sent a jolt through Nayak. Its sheer strength indicated a massive aircraft, far beyond the capabilities of conventional fighters. Yet, there was something more—a subtle shimmer in the signature that hinted at an effort to mask its true identity.
Drawing upon his experience and training, Nayak began the painstaking task of analysing the signal. Using parameters such as the frequency and pulse width of the radar emissions, he worked to cut through the electromagnetic clutter. Each reading, each adjustment of the console’s controls, brought him closer to the truth. The analysis revealed a startling conclusion: this was an AWACS, an Airborne Warning and Control System, a technological marvel capable of flying at 30,000 feet and detecting aircraft from distances of up to 400 kilometres (220 nautical miles).
Further scrutiny identified it as a Phalcon, an Israeli-made system operated by U.S. forces in the region. This AWACS, likely launched from a clandestine base in Oman, was an operational game-changer, providing unparalleled surveillance and coordination capabilities to allied forces. In an environment saturated with electromagnetic signals, the ability to isolate and classify such a sophisticated system was a monumental achievement.
Nayak wasted no time. With precise efficiency, he keyed in a classified message to Commodore Dewan, the captain of INS Mysore. The gravity of the situation was evident in Dewan’s voice as he acknowledged the report. Within minutes, the two convened in the tactical room, joined by senior officers. The dim glow of red emergency lights cast long shadows as they focussed over the intercepted data. The decision was unanimous and urgent: the intelligence had to be relayed immediately to Naval Headquarters (NHQ) and the Ministry of Defence (MOD). A high-priority SIGINT (Signal Intelligence) transmission was prepared and dispatched, ensuring that India’s top defence officials were alerted to the discovery.
The mission aboard INS Mysore continued unabated. Days turned into weeks, marked by a relentless cycle of vigilance and fatigue. For Nayak, the interception of the Phalcon signal became a defining moment, a singular achievement in a career dedicated to the invisible battlefields of electronic warfare. It was a triumph not just for him, but for the capabilities of the Indian Navy and the nation as a whole.
The significance of the discovery became evident weeks later when INS Mysore docked in Goa for refuelling. During a rare moment of respite, Nayak noticed a crewmate reading a crumpled newspaper. The headline leaped out at him: “New Radars, AWACS Will Be Inducted: GEORGE.” The article referenced Project GEORGE, the codename for their mission. It was a moment of validation. The intelligence Nayak had intercepted and relayed had set into motion a series of events that would culminate in India’s acquisition of its own AWACS capabilities.
In January 2004, India signed a $1.1 billion deal with Israel to procure three Phalcon AWACS, marking a significant leap in the country’s defence infrastructure. The Phalcon, integrated onto Ilyushin Il-76 aircraft, would enhance India’s surveillance and reconnaissance capabilities, ensuring the nation’s readiness in modern warfare. Yet, for Nayak, the moment was bittersweet. The headlines celebrated the success of Project GEORGE, but his role in the mission remained shrouded in secrecy.
Despite being the first Indian to intercept, classify, and identify a Phalcon AWACS through electronic parameters, Nayak’s contribution went unacknowledged in official records. The peace-time Gallantry Award, a fitting honour for such a critical achievement, never came his way. The sting of anonymity lingered, but it did not diminish the quiet pride he carried within.
The interception of the Phalcon signal was a testament to Nayak’s skill and dedication—a moment that showcased the indispensable role of electronic warfare in modern military operations. His ability to navigate the electromagnetic clutter of one of the most challenging operational environments in the world was a feat of professional excellence.
Even as India’s defence capabilities continued to grow, with additional Phalcon AWACS acquisitions in subsequent years, Nayak’s story remained one of quiet heroism. His actions on that fateful night aboard INS Mysore were a reminder of the unseen battles waged by soldiers who operate beyond the spotlight, their contributions shaping the destiny of their nation. Amidst the silent hum of the AJANTA system and the relentless vigilance of the crew, a battle was won—not with guns or missiles, but with intellect, precision, and unwavering dedication. In the shadows of electronic warfare, Nayak stood as a guardian of his nation, unseen yet indispensable.
