THE GARUD STRIKES

by Mukul Deva

  ‘All the while, this is what we had been planning for,’ Midha interjected. ‘I remember my company commander, Major Kharbanda, going on recce twice with an armoured corps officer, Lieutenant Mohan, to check the terrain and the infiltration routes. Kharbanda was one of Himmeth’s demons and always got selected for such tasks,’ continued Paunchy amid loud guffaws from everyone. ‘Every time he had to go across, he would hand over his ring and rudraksh etc. to me, along with several instructions, just in case he didn’t come back.’

  ‘Even though the terrain helped, the patrolling was a pain,’ Glucose pointed out. ‘Luckily, we had very confident Bengali guides, the Mukti Bahini chaps.’

  ‘They were okay,’ Granthi sounded dubious. ‘Major Kharbanda always said he could never be sure how much we could rely on them once the guns opened up. Once that happened, it was anyone’s guess if they would stay or run. But in those days, before the war, they were pretty useful. Each company had ten Mukti Bahini men allotted to it, though we had managed some more on our own. Our people would dress up as civilians and go through the enemy lines with them.’

  ‘Yes, Major Kharbanda used to really crib about that,’ said Midha again. ‘He used to say that he looked like a Bengali when he wore civilian clothes.’ Again, there was no malice or bias in his tone, just good old, rustic North Indian humour.

  ‘Bravo Company commanded by Kharbanda and my company (Alpha) would be leading the advance, which is why we were landed this task. Kharbanda was the obvious choice for the recce patrol as he originally came from Dera Ismail Khan, and could speak Pushto. Thus, in the event of being accosted by the enemy, he could bluff his way out by masquerading as a Pathan, or so we hoped,’ he explained further.

  It sounded hilarious now. I wondered what Kharbanda would have had to say about it back then.

  ‘I didn’t want to go since I was also the 2IC (second-in-command) and knew the detailed operational plan. I was worried that if I got caught, they would hammer the plan out of me,’ Paunchy pointed out sheepishly.

  ‘The terrain did facilitate patrolling, but it would make operations really painful, especially since we did not even have maps of the area across the IB,’ Glucose added. ‘Luckily, Paunchy had managed to get hold of an old 1963 survey map of that region from Major Zia Ur Rehman.’

  ‘And who was he?’ I asked, as the plethora of unfamiliar names was becoming confusing.

  Major I.P. Kharbanda VrC

  ‘Major Zia was an East Pakistani officer who defected. He came to us on 10 April 1971 and operated from our location for three months.’

  ‘He used to chat with us often.’ Guardsman Islam Mohammed of Alpha Company added. ‘When he found out I was a Muslim he asked me if we (Muslims) faced any problems in the Indian Army. When I explained to him that our unit was a mixed class one and had a fair number of Muslims and Christians, he was quite surprised. Even more when I shared that no one cared about our religion as long as we did our duty.’

  Though Islam was tucked away in a corner, perhaps overwhelmed by the abundance of officers and JCOs around, his mammoth moustache made its presence felt. ‘You’ve always had that?’ I asked.

  ‘This?’ He grinned and gave it a stylish twirl. ‘It used to be much better. When I joined the unit in 1966 Colonel Somanna was the commandant and Major Muthanna was the 2IC. Both had huge moustaches and all of us used to try and copy them… so everyone was either wearing a Somanna cut or a Muthanna cut.’

  Wishing I could have seen both styles, I asked. ‘Why was Major Zia surprised?’

  ‘He said they had been told in the Pakistan Army that India did not respect or value Muslims.’ Islam explained. ‘He was amazed how all of us mingled and lived together in complete harmony.’

  ‘Right.’ This was fascinating stuff, but wanting to get back to the war, I turned back to Paunchy. ‘You were saying…’

  ‘He later on became the Chief of Army Staff of Bangladesh under Mujib-ur-Rehman. Subsequently, he went on to become the President of Bangladesh till he was assassinated, and his widow replaced him,’ Paunchy explained. ‘Zia had brought several Pakistani maps with him, and on one of these we found an old footpath that skirted around the Pakistani positions at Akhaura.’

  Himmeth was intrigued when Paunchy showed him the path on the map. They realized that the path would most likely be underwater during the monsoons, but probably usable otherwise. In either case, it was worth exploring and Himmeth told Paunchy to do so, since by now it was clear that the battalion would be playing some role in the investment of Akhaura, as and when operations were launched into East Pakistan.

  Paunchy was pondering how best to do that when fortune presented a strange solution.

  The Agartala airfield lay right along the International Border (IB) and was often used by Indian Army officers to eyeball the area across. It was on one such mission, to study the lay of the land across the IB, that Paunchy ran into Captain Gogna, an Air OP (Observation Post) officer.

  ‘I think it was towards the end of July 1971. Gogna was not only my coursemate from NDA, but we were both from Juliet Squadron, and good friends, too. Gogna, who later retired as a Brigadier, was flying Alouette helicopters for the Air OP at that time. When I shared my predicament with Gogna, he happily agreed to take me up for a joyride, so that I could carry out an aerial recon of Akhaura,’ Paunchy went on explaining.

  Half an hour later, the two Juliet Squadron coursemates were airborne. Though not really equipped for an aerial recon, Paunchy managed to eyeball Akhaura properly, and even spotted a ditch-cum-bund (DCB) that the Pakistanis had built between Akhaura and Agartala airfield. Thoroughly enthused, Paunchy returned to the airfield the next day, armed with binoculars and a map, and went up again with Gogna.

  ‘It was during this recce that I was not only able to get a good idea of the Pakistani defences, but also realized that they were greater in strength and were far better organized than what had been initially appreciated by us,’ Paunchy added.

  ‘What had been the initial appreciation?’ I couldn’t help asking.

  ‘That Akhaura was held by an infantry company or so.’

  When Paunchy returned with this information to Himmeth, he was very excited and also expressed a desire to carry out an aerial recon. He even wanted the other officers to do so. Consequently, that evening found Paunchy back at the airfield looking for Gogna, ‘but this time I took Tuffy along for moral support. He was also our coursemate, and I was a little worried that Gogna might think we were really piling on.’

  But Paunchy’s apprehension proved unfounded. So strong is the NDA bond and espirit de corps that Gogna could scarcely refuse. He happily agreed to take Himmeth and the other officers up for a spin one by one.

  ‘The Old Man was very enthused and we started sending all the unit officers one by one,’ Paunchy laughed.

  Gogna’s air taxi soon became so popular that by the time his flight was rotated out from Agartala a few weeks later, one by one, not only did all the 4 Guards officers get an aerial view of Akhaura, but also many of the brigade officers, including Brigadier Mishra, the Commander, had been on the trip. Not only that, due to Brigadier Mishra’s insistence, even the other battalion commanders had enjoyed the pleasures of the Akhaura excursion.

  ‘As luck would have it, Gogna’s flight was replaced by a flight of Krishak aircraft, one of which was being flown by Bhargava, also from NDA and only one course senior to me,’ Paunchy’s face suddenly fell. ‘It is unfortunate that Bhargava is no more, but he was a gem, and continued the excellent work Gogna had started for us.’ Then, surprisingly, he laughed. ‘Bhargava was a real character. One day he even suggested to me that we should carry hand grenades to throw down at the Pakistani positions in Akhaura.’ He saw the query glinting in my eye and added: ‘Of course I did no such thing. The Old Man would have thrown a fit.’ Some fond memory made him laugh again. ‘By now our recon flights were no longer casual affairs. We maintained proper logs of each flight, made markings on our maps, and met
iculously studied the ground in and around Akhaura.’

  By a strange quirk of fate, the only one who did not manage to eyeball Akhuara from the air was Himmeth; something or the other always came in the way. However, luckily, with the help of all these air recons and ground patrolling, supported by intel reports, it was soon clear that Akhaura was defended by 12 Frontier Force Rifles (FFR), along with elements of 33 Baluch, 12 Azad Kashmir (AK), some tanks, artillery and an extensive minefield. In keeping with its strategic and tactical importance, Akhaura was a formidable obstacle.

  Glucose, the perennial adjutant, did a swift tally to check if they had missed anything. Having ensured we hadn’t, he moved on. ‘That’s why, on the night of 23rd or 24th November, when Lieutenant General Jagjit Singh Aurora landed up at the brigade headquarters, our orders were changed. Now, Akhaura became an investment by the division. Two battalions would attack it, a third would go behind to cut if off, and other units would carry out feints and diversionary attacks,’ said Glucose, swivelling the map towards me again. ‘A frontal attack by a battalion would have been crazy.’

  ‘As reported by Paunchy, the Pakistanis had also dug a massive anti-tank ditch across the complete frontage,’ Lieutenant Raj Mohan of 5 Independant Armoured Sqaudron pointed it out on the map. ‘That is why the brigade attack had to go in from the flank.’

  As per the new plan, 4 Guards was tasked to go behind Akhaura from the west and take up position astride the Brahmanbaria-Akhaura railway line. They had to cut Akhaura off and ensure it could not be reinforced.

  ‘I am sure the Pakistanis did not anticipate this,’ Glucose gave a grim grin. ‘I don’t think they would ever have imagined that an entire battalion of eight hundred men could wade through the swampy, marshy river with over five feet deep water.’

  ‘It was that bad?’ I queried.

  ‘Worse!’ Tuffy replied. ‘Everything got messed up. We were soaking wet. Everything was covered in mud. Our weapons got clogged, everything got thoroughly soaked and all the food we had been carrying was ruined. We were wet and cold and it felt as though we had crawled through from some really slimy ditch.’

  ‘During our earlier stint in the Mizo Hills, we had suffered this problem of barrels getting clogged with mud and then either bulging or exploding when the weapon was fired. Anticipating this, we had decided to take some prophylactic measures,’ Tuffy’s mischievous grin should have given me an idea of what Paunchy was implying. ‘The RMO (Regimental Medical Officer), Captain Sutradhar, told me how horrified the other doctors at the hospital had been when he requisitioned a thousand condoms.’ There was a loud burst of laughter. ‘Sutradhar had a tough time explaining that the condoms would be used to protect rifle barrels from getting mud clogged.’

  I tried to imagine the scene—hundreds of men, toting condom-clad rifles, wading through waist deep mud. I guess one has to actually go through it for the mind to be able to conjure up the real picture. I gave up as Paunchy resumed.

  ‘Let me tell you the plan in detail first. 10 Bihar was supposed to lead upto Lonesar, make a lodgement there for us (4 Guards) to move forward, infiltrate through enemy lines and cut off Akhaura from the west. Once it had been isolated, 10 Bihar was to attack Akhaura, whilst 18 Rajput, the brigade reserve, stood by to exploit their success or reinforce the attack, whatever was required. To confuse the enemy, 12 Kumaon had to simultaneously launch a feint attack on Akhaura from the east, and 19 Bihar, along with 12 EBR (East Bengal Regiment), from the north.’

  Glucose added, ‘In terms of armour, the 5th Independent Armoured Squadron was grouped with us. One of their troops would support the attack by 10 Bihar and the rest of the squadron was to come with us.’

  As he spoke, Granthi helpfully pointed out the various approaches to me on the map. It was not a military grade map, but the story unfolding through the eyes of this motley crew was clear enough. ‘Some of us were pretty cut up with the General for changing our original orders; which were, that the attack had to be carried out only by 311 Mountain Brigade. This was an audacious plan. It had an element of surprise in timing and direction of the attack. If successful, it could possibly have ensured speedy capture of Akhaura.’ Granthi was now sombre. ‘Lieutenant General Aurora, however, took a more cautious approach and changed the plan to an investment of Akhaura by 311 Mountain Brigade with an element of 73 Brigade in a supporting role. As things turned out, it was not a bad decision since the Pakistanis were well dug in and a frontal attack by the battalion would have been nothing short of suicidal. But back then, the issue was that many of us, especially the junior lot, did not know why the plans had been changed.’

  By now, memories seemed to flowing thick and fast.

  ‘Sometime around last light on 01 December 1971, I think it was at about 1800 hours, we all moved out,’ Tuffy reflected for a moment, as though trying to ensure he got the details right. ‘As Colonel Surinder said, it was like going out for just another exercise. One didn’t really feel anything. Not yet anyway. That would come later, when the Pakistanis started shelling us. At the time we started out, it was all very confusing, and there was a feeling of numbness,’ he said.

  On their backs, the guardsmen had as much ammunition as they could carry, and also three days of packed rations. If what I sensed in them even now were any indication, in their minds would have hovered the fog of uncertainty that every battle brings with it. And of course, the fear, which even the bravest of the brave feel. And rightly so, for that is what keeps one alive in the battlefield. That is what spurs us on to attempt the impossible.

  However, knowing what they accomplished in the coming days, in their hearts would surely have burned the need to prove worthy of the Garud they marched under.

  ‘10 Bihar was leading the initial infiltration up to Lonesar, a little south of Akhaura,’ Granthi added to the sketch earlier made. ‘After making contact with the enemy, they were also supposed to find a gap in the southern defences so that 4 Guards could infiltrate ahead and cut off Akhaura from the west.’

  Despite the passage of four decades, the words were flowing seamlessly. It was easy to tell that they all had re-lived these moments several times before. Having been in combat myself, I could empathize with that. Such memories don't go away easily. They come back many times in the silence of the nights, mostly as nightmares that jolt you awake and leave you sweating.

  The Pakistanis defending Akhuaura started shelling as soon as Indian troops crossed the International Border. By the time 4 Guards reached Lonesar, a little short of Devagram village, Pakistani shelling had become intense.

  ‘The enemy must have obviously detected our movement. Their artillery fire grew heavier with every passing moment,’ Granthi seemed lost. ‘I cannot tell you what it was like. The first to cut and run were the civilian porters who were helping us carry ammunition. Each company had been given ten of the Mukti Bahini men as porters and guides. They took off as soon as the firing started. In the process, we lost a fair bit of ammunition.’

  Lieutenant Colonel A.S. Chauhan now spoke for the first time.

  One of the first Emergency Commissioned Officers, Chauhan had been a police inspector with the Madhya Pradesh police in his previous avatar. Thus, relatively older than the other officers, and far more experienced, the younger lot looked up to him. Even today, this was visible.

  In the wake of the guardsmen, Chauhan was moving forward with the Rajputs, along with a platoon of Mukti Bahini boys, ferrying ammunition and rations forward when the shelling started. Before the second salvo could hit, the Bahini boys had run, scattering into the night.

  Having suffered a leg injury earlier that year due to an air burst splinter, while serving as a platoon commander with Charlie Company, Himmeth had tasked Chauhan to take over the duties of Adm Company Commander. It was his job to ensure the boys did not run out of ammunition, food and water. To Chauhan’s credit, before long he had been ordered to command the Brigade B-echelon.

  ‘I was amazed at the speed with which they
all vanished,’ a wry smile twisted across Chauhan’s face. ‘One minute they were moving with us and then, the very next minute, there was just my JCO and a couple of our boys left standing there. Some of the Mukti Bahini boys had dropped the ammunition they were carrying, but a lot of them had just run off with it,’ he added after a moment. ‘It was unfair to blame them; they were young, completely unfamiliar with the grim realities of a battlefield and scared of the horrors they would suffer at the hands of the Pakistan Army should India fail to win the war,’ he elaborated.

  Chauhan was also aware that there was no way he could not get the ammunition and food up to the boys. So, even though he was unable to bend his knee due to the injury, and regardless of the pounding being meted out by the Pakistani artillery, he went hunting for the missing porters.

  ‘I sent the JCO in one direction and went into the other myself,’ he said.

  The Mukti Bahini boys had taken shelter either in the buildings around or in the jungles. Literally dragging them back, Chauhan and his JCO finally got most of them together again and resumed their trudge forward.

  ‘I must confess their flight also disheartened a few of my own boys. But, despite everything—mud, slush, enemy fire—we carried on regardless,’ he added. The pause this time was longer. I could sense Granthi’s fight to regain control of whatever that had been unleashed in his head by those memories. ‘Even today I can see their artillery shells exploding all around us. I can still smell the gunpowder. I can still see the fiery sparks spray out into the air every time a shell burst. Soon, very soon, we would smell the blood, as they began to take a toll,’ he voiced his thoughts.

  Granthi had gone very still. So had the rest. I was the only one in the room who had not been there that night. I was the odd man out; the others were all lost in their thoughts. ‘The exercise ended at that moment,’ Granthi’s volume had dropped considerably, almost a whisper now. ‘That is when the war became real. Real and bloody.’