THE GARUD STRIKES

by Mukul Deva

  One of the several regimental magazines in my caravan provided the rest of the answer as to why the Garud had been chosen as the regimental emblem by the Brigade of Guards. That came about when General Cariappa accepted the recommendation of senior Guards officers like Lieutenant Colonel Bireshwar Nath and Lieutenant Colonel N.C. Rawlley. In addition to being considered sacred, the considerations were also the elegance, strength, courage and vitality of the great bird. It was for these very reasons that this majestic bird, with spread wings, in standing posture, had been the symbol of the French Army under Napoleon, not to mention the association of the eagle with the glory of the Roman Empire.

  These, and a host of related thoughts, were whirling in my dreams that night. Perhaps the supreme confidence of the Garud reached out and touched me, too. Either way, by the time I arose with the morning sun, all my doubts had dissipated. And I knew I could do this book, with no concern for commercial appeal. But only for the feelings of those who had been a part of it.

  `HOW IT ALL BEGAN

  4 Guards (1 Rajput) was carrying out counter-insurgency tasks in the Mizo Hills at the time when Sheikh Mujibur Rehman was arrested, on 25 March 1971. By then, the Mizo terrorists were already on the run and had sought refuge in the Masalang Area, Chittagong Hill tracts of East Pakistan, where the Pakistani Army was providing them active support. Their camps were guarded by a series of Border Out Posts (BOPs) manned by the East Pakistan Rifles (EPR), which mostly comprised Bengalis. During this time, 4 Guards was actively involved in reconnaissance, intelligence gathering and putting together a comprehensive picture of Pakistani interference in India’s internal affairs. Soon they began raiding the camps of the Mizo hostiles.

  On the very first raid, led by Alpha Company under command Major Chandrakant, some Mizo hostiles were captured. They provided exact locations of key hostile camps and very precise details of Pakistani support being given to them. This concrete and actionable information available now provided an opportunity for India to destroy the Pak-sponsored Mizo insurgent camps and put an end to this menace once and for all. This opportunity became even more real when the Awami League declared independence, and the Bengalis switched allegiance to the new state. This need (to put a final stop to Pakistani support of the insurgency in North-East India and provide depth to the Siliguri corridor) was a major consideration in India’s decision to intervene in East Pakistan.

  Consequently, the unit was rushed to Agartala. The leading elements of 4 Guards reached Agartala on the evening of 3 April 1971, but before they could go into action, plans were changed, and the orders to search and destroy the Mizo camps across the Indo-Pak border never materialized. Nevertheless, the unit remained in Agartala and thus had a ringside view of the torrid sequence of events that followed in East Pakistan. Not only did they witness the massive influx of millions of refugees into India, they also had a firsthand view of the atrocities that the Pakistan Army inflicted on the people of East Pakistan.

  Soon, the trickle of refugees into India had become a deluge. Soon, every possible Indian facility along those borders was swamped. The hospitals were overflowing with men who had had limbs chopped off; women who had been raped, disfigured, and had their breasts cut off. Even children had not been spared. The bestiality displayed by the Pakistan Army cannot be expressed by mere words. Mutilated and mangled, millions flowed into India.

  ‘We were grappling to come to terms with what we saw, as much as we were trying to cope with the daily increasing flood of starving, battered and mutilated people.’ The expression on Captain Sutradhar’s face conveyed it all. ‘I still remember Ted Kennedy standing in the hospital ward when he visited us in July 1971. There was not even an inch of room available in the hospital; every possible corner had been taken up by a mass of humanity … by what had once been normal, happy human beings.’ The good doctor was now crying openly.

  Ted Kennedy’s visit, and the coverage by international media that followed in its run-up, played a major role in highlighting the plight of the East Pakistani refugees and the atrocities committed on them. Till now this was being largely ignored by the American media, primarily because the Vietnam War and the Cold War were at their peak, and America was not very keen to discuss the misdemeanours of Pakistan, its favoured ally in the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) and Central Treaty Organization (CENTO). And also because Nixon and Kissinger were using Yahya Khan to try and effect a rapproachment with China.

  The Pakistani Army’s atrocities also went unreported because the then UN High Commisioner for Refugees, Prince Sadruddin Aga Khan also happened to be the only child of Sir Sultan Mohammed Shah Aga Khan III, a Pakistani. He allegedly did not hesitate to use his offices to play an ambivalent role and downplay the horrors unleashed by Pakistani soldiers on the hapless East Pakistanis.

  ‘I cannot tell you what terrible things we saw,’ Major Chandrakant, then officiating second-in-command and commander of Alpha Company, 4 Guards, muttered bleakly. ‘In the months before the war, when we were at Sabrun, every day, Pakistani soldiers would drag naked Bengali (Hindu) women like cattle to the river, right in front of our border outposts (BOPs) and force them to bathe in front of every one ... and they would beat them, rape them and mutiliate them. Those gutless men would even yell at us that this is what the fate of all Indian women would be if India dared to intervene in Pakistan.’

  The anguish in his voice was raw even to this day. I tried to visualize what he had described, and failed. My mind could not grasp such a reality. I tried to understand the pain and horror they must have experienced, but in vain. But then I correlated it with the news of the day, where Pakistani soldiers had beheaded an Indian soldier, and I could easily see that the Pakistan Army had lost its soul a long time ago. This is not the way soldiers behave. Warriors the world over live by a code of conduct, and such animal behaviour is not a part of it. There can be little hope for a nation when its Army (its pride and glory) stoops to such bestial behaviour.

  ‘They should not have been allowed to get away with all this. Their officers posted in East Pakistan should have been tried for war crimes, for the sheer bestiality they committed and allowed their men to commit,’ Chandrakant’s anger was palpable. ‘Do you think they would have gotten away scot-free if this had happened in any western country?’

  In the face of these continuing horrors, for 4 Guards, the operation to take out the camps of Mizo insurgents now mutated into dealing with the refugees and helping the Mukti Bahini (the East Pakistani freedom fighters) to keep the Pakistani Army at bay and defend the populace of East Pakistan.

  However, by virtue of being deployed on the border, 4 Guards gathered important insights into the way the Pakistan Army was functioning in East Pakistan, as well as also learnt a lot about their commanders. These insights were to prove invaluable when hostilities eventually broke out in December 1971.

  During these chaotic months, 4 Guards was moving every other day, rushing from one fire to another. ‘We must have walked over every inch of the Agartala area,’ Major Marwah, who then commanded Charlie Company of 4 Guards, commented, ‘sometimes to places so inaccessible that we had to depend exclusively on elephant columns for maintenance.’

  By end November 1971, it was clear that war between India and Pakistan could no longer be avoided. The unbelievable burden of millions of refugees on India’s economy, the rape of East Pakistan by the Pakistan Army, the exploding aspirations for a life of freedom, equality and dignity of ninety-five million East Pakistanis and Pakistan Army’s increasing aggression on both eastern and western fronts made this war inevitable.

  Come December, the inevitable came to pass and the Indian Armed Forces moved to rescue a beleaguered neo-nation. 4 Guards spearheaded the Indian Army’s advance, right from Agartala to Dacca. Not only did they fight past every obstacle on this incredibly long and difficult road, the guardsmen were also the first to reach Dacca when the Pakistani Army surrendered.

  Akhaura, Arahand, Ujjainisar bridge, Sultan
pur, Brahmanbaria, Ashuganj, Methikanda, Narsingdi, Lakhiya and finally Dacca. Each of these were unforgettable landmarks on this road. At each of them, many guardsmen shed their blood.

  Over forty years have passed since those tumultuous days. The face of the countryside has changed, so much that it is nearly impossible to believe that a deadly war had ravaged it so brutally. However, sitting with these veterans, pushing through the fog of painful memories, I retraced every inch of this deadly, bloodsoaked route. And I felt each and every battle come alive.

  TALLY HO

  Several hours had elapsed since they had reached the International Border (IB). And even now no one had a clue if they would be going ahead with the offensive or not; and if so, when.

  Map signed by Lieutenant General JFR Jacob, PVSM, then Chief of Staff, Eastern Command

  However, surprisingly, there was no tension in the air. Most of the men and younger officers had dozed off; exhausted by the intense burst of activity that erupts when any military unit receives the orders to mobilize for war. The others, still riding out the adrenaline surge, and now bored with this lingering inactivity, were trying to sleep. A few were chatting, but in really low tones, mindful of the border outposts not too far away. Some were eating; a very select some… basically the die-hard (and quite literal) followers of Napoleon’s an-army-marches-on-its-stomach philosophy.

  For the senior lot, of course, it was a different story. Most of them had seen battle before. In the two decades since Indian independence, the country had seen more than its fair share of war, not surprising, considering its unusually belligerent neighbour. This (senior) lot had been through one or more of these wars, and had experienced the terminal impact of bullets, bayonets and bombs on life and limb. They were busy introspecting and contemplating. Perhaps also because the older ones are more prone to thinking and worrying, as are those who command men into battle. Perhaps it was the knowledge of the carnage that was inevitable. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of whether their planning would stand the test of the battle ahead or not. Or perhaps it was simply the certainty that if it did not, their men would pay for the misjudgment with their limbs, and maybe even their lives.

  Battalion ‘O’ Group receiving orders from the Commandant at Agartala on 1 December 1971

  Standing (L-R) Captain Harmohinder Singh, Major S. Mehta, Captain V.K. Dewan and Lieutenant Colonel Himmeth Singh

  Sitting (L-R) Captain Surinder Singh, Major Kharbanda, Major Marwah and Major Chandrakant

  There were over three thousand heavily armed men strung along the border, mostly in small, tight clusters. Barring the occasional man going to discreetly answer nature’s call, there was little to give them away.

  To mask the movement of these men from the rear areas to the IB, several one tonner trucks had removed their silencers and had been revving their engines to the north of Agartala airport. However, the enemy must have sensed that something was up. It is hard to conceal the movement of so many men. But, the Pakistanis probably didn’t know which axis the Indians would exploit, and when the strike would commence.

  The sun sets early in this part of the world. Soon it dropped below the horizon and a blanket of darkness rendered even these sporadic movements invisible.

  Now cocooned in the fragile shell of darkness, the men of the Indian 311 Mountain Brigade waited… poised on that thin, poorly demarcated line that lay between India and East Pakistan… soon to be Bangladesh.

  Commanders (of divisions, brigades, battalions and companies) paced restlessly near telephone sets. The tension coursing through them was directly proportionate to the rank they wore on their shoulder boards. The higher the rank, the heavier the responsibility, and the more fearsome the tension coiling inside them.

  Everyone was waiting for two words.

  ‘Tally Ho!’

  Two words that would unleash the brigade, along with the other brigades of the 4th Corp of the Indian Army, also poised along the border, and send it hurtling down an uncertain, perilous road, which would eventually lead to Dacca.

  Two simple words: that would forever alter the destiny of three nations; one of them yet to be born.

  Two tiny words: that would impact the lives of several thousands of men on both sides of the Indo-Pak border.

  Two words: the echoes of which would reverberate down the corridors of history forever.

  Life, death, the guns, the darkness, the silvery moonlight, even the chill of the winter night: everything seemed to be holding its breath.

  At approximately 1730 hours, telephone sets crackled to life.

  Tally Ho!

  A dozen commanders, scattered in a dozen locations, acknowledged the command. Immediately apprehension, uncertainty and doubt were swept aside as men and machinery rumbled to life, like an ungainly giant uncoiling slowly.

  Guns were cocked. Rounds chambered. Bayonets fixed. Boots laced more firmly. Belts tightened. Water swigged to soothe parched throats. Fluttering stomachs settled as adrenaline slithered into the system.

  At approximately 1800 hours, the first set of combat boots stepped across the undrawn line of the Assembly Area that had been designated for them and went forward to meet their tryst with destiny.

  The date was 1 December 1971.

  Once again, Pakistan and India had gone to war.

  Lost somewhere in this quagmire of armed men moving forward to engage in battle were the eight hundred plus warriors of 4 Guards (1 Rajput).

  Once again they marched under the watchful eye of the Garud.

  Battle Ready

  The officers of 4 Guards – D- Day, 30 Nov 1971 at Lichibagan, Agartala

  Kneeling: 2nd Lieutenant B.B. Midha, Lieutenant Pradhan, Lieutenant Karmarkar, Lieutenant R Mohan (63 Cavalry), 2nd Lieutenant Madappa, Lieutenant Yadav,

  Captain RAK’ Maneck (SIKH LIGHT INFANTRY)

  Standing: Captain Sahni, Captain Sutradhar, Major Uppal, Captain V.K. Dewan, Lieutenant Colonel Himmeth Singh, Major S Mehta (63 Cavalry), Major

  Kharbanda, Major Marwah, Captain Sundaram (Artillery OP), Captain Surinder, Lieutenant L.M. Singh, Major AS Chauhan and Major Chandrakant

  Standing at their helm was Lieutenant Colonel Himmeth Singh. Feisty, enigmatic and charismatic; yet for all that a man with all the fears and feelings that all men have.

  This is how the strike of the Garud unfolded.

  DAY ONE

  1 December 1971

  ‘To be honest with you, it felt as though we were going for just another training exercise.’ Colonel Surinder Singh was returning home early that day and hence he had asked to be interviewed first. And that was the first thing he said to me.

  We were all sitting in one of the young officers’ room. It was not very big; small enough to be really crowded with nine of us in it—eight retired, wizened veterans of the war and me. It looked, felt and even smelt like the typical Army bachelors’ quarters: yellow walls, a large part of those adorned with Madonna, Christina Aguilera and the posters of some other strangely done up women I was not familiar with. The aroma of Old Spice after-shave and some other very soothing essence, which I could not identify, mingled with that of the two large dogs sprawled by the bed, an Alsatian and a Golden Retriever. A computer stood in one corner, surrounded by a host of books, on topics as varied and weird as some of the women on the walls.

  We were just settling down to begin when the door creaked open and two more veterans walked in. Now the room felt really small. A few minutes passed as I was introduced to the newcomers: Lieutenant Colonels B.B. Midha and A.S. Chouhan.

  ‘For so many months now we had been training for this; digging foxholes, man-packing mortars and RCL (Recoilless) guns, moving self-contained for days, and learning to use all modes of transport, mostly improvised. The unit had received almost a hundred new recruits from the Regimental Centre, so there was a lot to be done to get them up to speed. After months of training every day, that is what it felt like when we went across the border that night.’

  Colonel Surind
er’s voice tugged me back. His tone was so matter-of-fact that I was unable to stop my laugh. He did not take umbrage.

  Major A.S. Chauhan

  ‘You see, this was my very first time in action. I had never imagined what war would be like, he paused, looking at something in the distance, as though trying to marshal his thoughts, or perhaps recall that feeling. Then he shrugged and nodded, more firmly this time. ‘Yes. It felt just like any other exercise.’

  A moment later, he added, as though by way of further explanation, ‘You must understand, I was a youngster in those days, with barely three years of service. And then, all these months, ever since the problem began in East Pakistan, and refugees began to flood into India, we had been preparing for operations. Every day we would spend hours on the firing range, because our Commandant, Colonel Himmeth Singh, believed that the prime duty of every soldier was to shoot straight. And of course, carry a full battle-load and be able to dig in within minutes. The Old Man laid a lot of stress on this because he had appreciated that in case of any operations in East Pakistan, considering the soft topsoil, artillery would be able to inflict heavy casualties. That is why each of us had to practice digging daily.’