It Costs Money To Jail Your Pilot And Fill In The Hole His
Plane Made
Military people in general tend to be proud, and Russians
particularly so. Their military has a long history, and can make a
defensible claim to the scalps of Napoleon and Hitler -- if nothing
else, the scalps of their legends of invincibility. So the
embarrassment of the recent incursion by a lost Russian fighter
pilot into Lithuanian territory is a particular source of grief
that just hasn't let up.
As regular Aero-News readers know, the September 15th accident
began when Major Valery Troyanov's jet lost its nav gear, while on
a tricky single-ship flight to Russia's small and NATO-encircled
Kaliningrad enclave. (Troyanov was the last ship in a flight, but
they were flying out of contact with one another, at ten minute
intervals). Troyanov ejected when fuel status got critical, and
found himself in Lithuania -- and in custody.
The Russians began by demanding the jet and pilot be returned,
forthwith, and insisting on immediate access to the site, to
prevent NATO exploitation of the wreckage. It may have been the
wrong tack to take with the Lithuanians, who have an unhappy
collective memory of their years under Russian rule, and aren't
lacking in pride themselves. All of a sudden things required higher
levels of diplomacy and slowed waaaay down.
By that time, it had become clear from examination of the
wreckage, and from talking to Troyanov -- who was so intent on
protecting his service's interests that he refused a medical
examination, unless he could have someone from the Russian Embassy
with him -- that what had the Lithuanian services all astir was
nothing but one accidentally off-course plane. But the correct
forms had to be observed.
The Russians shifted gears from bluster to conciliation very
quickly and as a result had some participation in the investigation
-- not as much as they'd have liked. They are probably assuming
that NATO has learned some of the secrets of the Su-27, Russia's
front line fighter, but these things happen with technology, once
you field it. The Balts have not flaunted any such exploitation in
Russian faces, which would require Russian reaction.
Troyanov's custody wasn't onerous. His wife Olga was allowed to
join him, and it was more like house arrest as the only tenants in
the Hotel Balatonas, Vilnius. Once the Lithuanians were able
to rule out any bad intent, they dropped plans to ask for charges.
Defense Minister Gediminas Kirklias said that the cause of the
accident "...was a combination of technical, organizational and
human factors." Russian military officials took pains to praise the
investigation and the officers conducting it, although they will
also conduct their own.
Valery and Olga Troyanov finally went home October 6th (as we
mentioned in passing in an unrelated story on Indian aviation).
That left the airplane's wreckage still in Lithuanian custody.
In mid-October, the Lithuanian defense ministry passed a note to
the Russian ambassador in Vilnius, saying that Lithuania is ready
to return the wreckage of the Sukhoi, which is property of the
Russian Federation. The two nations made turn-over arrangements
rapidly.
The residue of the plane's armament -- it was fully armed with
gun ammunition and four air-to-air missile -- was delivered to
Russian representatives in Kaliningrad on October 26th.
The aircraft's most sensitive equipment was handed over to
Vladislav Akentyev of the Russian Ministry of Defense on Saturday,
October 29th. That includes the flight recorder materials and the
pilot's personal equipment.
The Lithuanians still have some pieces, including some engine
parts and the ejection seat, but those will be handed over to the
Russians soon.
"The incident is over," Russian Army Chief of Staff Yuri
Baluyevsky told Russian newsmen after Troyanov's release.
The fun-loving, guitar-playing Troyanov is already a hero in
Russia, if an unlikely one. He admits to some back pains, and will
undergo medical treatment while the Russian investigation into his
accident continues. In the meantime, he's been asked to give
patriotic lectures in schools near his home airbase of Lodeynoe
Pole.
So the situation is all resolved. Or is it? Well, there is just
one small matter: by the Lithuanian reckoning, the expenses imposed
on the small country were some 67,000 litai -- about $23,250. The
Lithuanian Prosecutor General has asked that the claim be forwarded
to the appropriate department.
The good news for Russia is, this should be the last
embarrassment in this particular episode. And for Major Troyanov,
may the rest of his career be full of happy landings -- ideally,
still aboard his airplane, and on his intended runway.