by Mukul Deva
Within minutes of the fog lifting, the Pakistani artillery and armour ensured Charlie Company had to dig in and keep their heads down.
Realizing that most of the artillery fire that was making life difficult for his men was coming from one particular gun position, Himmeth tasked Tuffy to raid the gun position.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on the point of view one takes, by the time Tuffy’s raiding party hit the gun position, the Pakistanis had pulled back their guns to an alternate position.
Meanwhile, back at the battalion HQ, another drama was unfolding. Naik Jai Singh, who was serving with the unit’s Intelligence Section, learnt that Subedar Rawat, the senior JCO of Bravo Company, had been wounded. He, however, could not be evacuated due to heavy enemy fire.
Honorary Captain Jai Singh
‘Subedar Rawat was also from Alwar, my hometown,’ said Jai Singh, who eventually retired as an Honorary Captain. ‘I had already lost one of the boys from my village the previous day, and wasn’t going to allow something to happen to Rawat. So I told Commandant sahib that I was going to Bravo Company to bring him back.’
It was only when night fell that Himmeth finally relented and allowed an obstinate Jai Singh to go. Under cover of darkness, Jai Singh, with another guardsman, stealthily made his way into Bravo Company location. Braving their way through intense fire, the duo finally arrived.
‘I found Subedar Rawat lying under a wooden bed in a tin hut,’ Jai Singh narrated. ‘He was very badly injured but tried to shoot me with his sten gun when I crept into the darkened hut. Luckily, I called out to him in time and recognizing my voice, he did not fire.’
To get his bearings, Jai Singh lit a match. That immediately drew the wounded JCO’s ire. Rawat shouted at him to put out the light, warning him that any light would immediately draw fire since the Pakistani gunners were dominating every inch of the Bravo Company position.
Examining his wounds, Jai Singh realized he was injured far more seriously that he had assumed, and needed to be evacuated immediately. Giving him a shot of morphine, Jai Singh first bandaged his wounds with field dressings. Then he even gave him a cup of black tea, since all the sugar and condensed milk they had carried had already been spoilt by the mud and slush. Finally, sedated by the morphine and now a lot more comfortable, Jai Singh took Subedar Rawat on his shoulder and carried him back to the battalion headquarters; which was three kilometres away, and almost every bit of it was blanketed by enemy fire.
Himmeth saw Jai Singh coming in with the wounded JCO, who was immediately treated by the doctor and then evacuated back to the ADS.
‘Commandant sahib was very happy with me,’ the now wizened Jai Singh said simply. ‘But more than anything, I was thrilled that Subedar Rawat made it through the war. After retirement, we would meet very often, and he would tell his family how I had carried him back.’
I did not notice any pride in the man before me. But seeing him and hearing his story, it was not hard for me to understand how tough it would have been for the Pakistanis to hold on their own against men such as him.
Now Akhaura had been encircled and the guardsmen had to hold on till such time as the remaining two units of the brigade completed the task of capturing it and flushing the enemy out of it.
However, the enemy did not seem in the mood to cooperate. Also, if the Pakistanis wanted to get out of Akhaura alive, they definitely needed to get rid of the guardsmen blocking their rear. That’s why, like cornered cats, for the next sixty hours, they inflicted hell on 4 Guards, especially those of Alpha Company who were in the forefront and thus took the brunt of the enemy response.
The night of 2nd December passed with repeated probes and jitter parties being sent out by the Pakistanis. Their armour, too, kept probing the guardsmen.
However, 4 Guards managed to hold them at bay with small arms fire and also the supporting artillery, which was by now firmly in action. Also supporting them was the battalion’s mortar platoon, commanded most commendably by Captain RAK Maneck of 1 Sikh Light Infantry.
The dashing, rakish Maneck had arrived in 4 Guards earlier in the year; a disciplinary case. He was attached with 4 Guards for an enquiry whilst the unit was in the Mizo Hills. Just before war broke out, when 4 Guards got orders to move, they were also instructed to send Maneck to the HQ of an adjoining brigade. However, Himmeth requested Mishra to retain him, not just because they had taken a liking to him, but also because he happened to be mortar qualified, something which no other 4 Guards officer at that time was.
Himmeth’s decision to retain Maneck was to prove wise since he commanded the mortar platoon with great courage and distinction.
Hailing from this illustrious regiment myself, I had heard a lot about him and was looking forward to meeting Maneck. He proved to be every inch the diamond that the stories about him made him out to be. The passage of years had done nothing to dim the fire in his belly, or the mischief in his eyes.
The mortar platoon, deployed at Barisal, provided effective and accurate fire throughout the battle for Akhaura, despite losing a lot of its ammunition when the civilian porters panicked and ran.
Maneck was deployed so close to the action that he was actually able to see the attacking Pakistanis; and that is why the mortar fire was incredibly accurate.
‘I remember him very well even now. Maneck sahib was something else,’ the burly, bespectacled, gruff looking Honorary Captain Sube Singh still showed vestiges of the sportsman he had been in his younger days. ‘He had an amazingly positive attitude… nothing seemed to faze him at all.’
Moving just behind the battalion HQ, the mortar platoon was barely thirty minutes out from Litchi Bagan (the firm base from which the guardsmen had been launched) when Pakistani artillery started up.
‘Within minutes, the Mukti Bahini boys who had been helping us to carry our ammunition had vanished. We lost a lot of ammunition because of them,’ Sube sounded irritated. ‘When we left Litchi Bagan, all the clerks, barbers and everyone else had been given two rounds each to carry. This was the only lot that finally reached us because they stuck with us through everything. But most of the ammunition being carried by the Mukti Bahini and even our own rifle companies did not. The Bahini boys took off and our rifle companies were scattered around and almost constantly in contact with the enemy, so they could not get it to us,’ Sube Singh paused momentarily to gather his thoughts. He appeared conscious of the tape recorder running in front of him and was perhaps anxious to get the facts right.
‘As for our men,’ he smiled wickedly, ‘the same buggers whom I had to hound and cajole to dig their foxholes properly during training, now burrowed in like over-caffeinated rabbits soon as the shelling started.’ He gave us another smile, as beatific as the previous one. ‘And when the artillery shelling would stop, we had to pull them out and yell at them to get them moving again.’
However, when it was all calm after the very first round of shelling, all efforts to arouse Signal Operator Biswanath failed. He had gotten unlucky. The shell had landed close to him.
‘It was so hard to believe. He didn’t look dead,’ Sube looked momentarily befuddled. ‘And he had been alive just a few moments ago.’
Aware that the radio set and the drum of telephone wire Biswanath had been carrying was critical for the mortar platoon to provide fire support to the rifle companies, Sube Singh retrieved both from his body.
‘The drum was very heavy and an awkward load to carry, but I lugged it along till the going became almost impossible due to the slush. Finally, when I just could not cope any more, I had to abandon it. But I still kept carrying the radio set.’
Then the mind numbing shelling started again. But they kept going.
When the two groups of men ran into each other, neither realized the enemy was in their midst.
‘It was only when one of our boys in front began to shout that we realized they were Pakistani soldiers,’ Sube Singh grinned. I guess the memory was as funny now as the reality had been sh
ocking then. ‘At first, no one reacted. We were all stunned. Then my boys forgot about the mortars we were carrying and tried to engage the Pakistanis, but it was all happening too fast and there was simply too much confusion around. The Pakistanis began to run away with my boys in chase.’
Regaining control of the platoon, they resumed the infiltration, moving just ahead of the battalion HQ.
The mortar platoon had barely crossed Akhaura when they got orders to deploy. Despite there being no cover available, Maneck deployed the platoon and brought the mortars into action.
By now the boys had gotten over the shock of shelling, and their morale was high. Three of the four rifle companies were in contact and the need for covering fire was critical. Requests flowed in simultaneously from both Alpha and Bravo companies ensuring the mortar platoon had no time to think. Just re-lay the mortars, check the settings and shoot. Soon the barrels were steaming hot.
‘Maneck sahib used to check the fire orders I was preparing and I used to double-check the ones he made. We wanted to ensure we got every thing right.’ Sube suddenly stopped and gave me an aggrieved look. ‘You know what I remember very clearly of the war?’ It was obviously a rhetorical question. ‘In all those days, we must have provided fire support dozens of times to every company, but it was only Major Marwah who ever called back to say that he appreciated our efforts and that we had done a great job.’
Perhaps it was a long buried feeling that had been unleashed as he relived those moments.
‘I remember that very clearly,’ Sube Singh repeated, and then shrugged. ‘Not that we did not do our best for the others also. But Marwah sahib was the only one who expressed his appreciation.’
Sube Singh waited for me to say something. I figured a response was required; the emotion did need to be acknowledged and put to rest. ‘I quite understand, sahib. Life is like that; more so war. We tend to take our own for granted,’ I gave my most supportive look. It seemed to pacify him, and he resumed.
‘And the other thing I remember very clearly was that unlike in exercises, where we are always deployed in such a manner that one or the other of the rifle companies is able to give us protection, it was not the case during this operation. Though battalion HQ was not too far behind us, since they were deployed near a mosque, but they were not close enough to help us if were attacked. Almost throughout the war, we were pretty much on our own.’ Sube Singh’s passion shone through even today. It was easy to see the spirit that had driven the guardsmen forward that day.
‘But nothing held us back. We gave our best, whenever and wherever we were asked to give fire support. The boys were just too good. And Maneck sahib… no matter what happened, he sustained us. I rarely saw him sleep, and he was always cheerful. He was always going around, talking to the men and keeping their spirits high,’ Sube did not bother to hide his admiration.
Despite his best efforts, Maneck knew that Himmeth was not at ease. It was the coming dawn that bothered Himmeth, for with it would come the Pakistani armour. By now there could be little doubt in the minds of the Pakistani commanders about the Indian intent and force levels; it was certain that they would do their utmost to stall the offensive and dislodge them. Time and terrain both stood firmly in favour of Pakistan.
Knowing that his boys would not be able to withstand the Pakistani armour without anti-tank weapons, Himmeth sent Captain Sahni back to get the RCL guns up post haste.
As the second bloody day drew to a close, Sahni headed back to look for the missing RCL guns. To do that, he had to find their tanks; which were supposed to have delivered the RCL guns to them.
‘We had initially harboured at the old Malanchabas Palace Grounds, behind the Governor’s house,’ Lieutenant Raj Mohan pointed out. ‘Later my troop was shifted to Litchi Bagan where 4 Guards were located.’
‘Is that when you first met the unit?’ I had a hazy idea of the cavalryman before me, or his role in those sixteen bloody days.
‘No, no. I first came in contact with 4 Guards early in 1971,’ the lanky cavalryman was smiling as he embraked down memory lane. ‘I had been sent to collect our fourteen tanks, which were arriving by a special military train at Dharamnagar, the last railhead in Tripura. I then had to take these tanks down an old, partly metalled road, which had many small bridges and culverts.’
Many of these bridges and culverts were so small that they would have collapsed with the weight of a tank. That necessitated leaving the road and navigating dozens of slushy rivers and nullahs. To make matters more interesting, Raj was only allowed to travel in hours of darkness, to keep the presence and number of tanks a secret from the Pakistanis.
‘The atmosphere was already surcharged with war clouds,’ Raj explained. ‘On both sides, troops had begun to muster and hectic preparations were underway. In fact, sporadic clashes and exchange of fire, even artillery fire, had become quite the norm.’
Raj and his caravan of fourteen tanks seemed to have been on the road forever before they arrived. It was late evening when the first tank reached the Teliamura hilltop. It was the same hill that would later on become the tactical HQ of 4 Corps of the Indian Army, which, under Lieutenant General Sagat Singh, would lead the dash to Dacca.
‘I can never forget that sight. The whole skyline was orange and the countryside seemed to roll away from me endlessly,’ Raj breathed in awe. ‘It was one of those nights when both sides were engaged in yet another artillery duel. The deep rolling boom of artillery guns filled the air. I could actually see flashes of light in the distance as the shells landed,’ he tapped his forehead with a rigid forefinger. ‘I can see it so clearly even now.’
So vividly had he described it that, so could I.
‘Is that where you met 4 Guards?’
‘No. That happened a bit later. When I was ordered to move from Malanchabas Palace Grounds to the Litchi Bagan-Shal Bagan area, that is where they were also located,’ added Raj.
The Commandant Lieutenant Colonel Himmeth Singh was the first officer Raj encountered when he drove into the 4 Guards location.
‘Himmeth was Himmeth,’ Raj smiled at the memory. ‘And there can never be another like him. The guy was unique. He and that Sikh Light Infantry officer who was attached as their mortar officer, Captain Maneck. I can never forget the two of them,’ he added.
The young cavalry Lieutenant had been with 4 Guards for some time and must have made a fabulous impression on Himmeth. Towards the end of November 1971, just as they stood poised on the brink of war, Raj was ordered by his Squadron Commander Major Shamsher Mehta (who eventually retired as a Lieutnant General) to report to HQ 59 Brigade at Kailasher, bordering Sylhet, about fifty kilometres away, where he was to operate as part of an adhoc squadron.
Himmeth came to know about Raj’s departure just after the youngster had driven away. By then he had become so used to having him around and impressed by him that Himmeth refused to contemplate going to war without him. And he communicated the same to Major Shamsher Mehta, apparently with enough conviction to have him do something about it. Shamsher Mehta by now knew Himmeth well enough to know that once he made up his mind, it was hard to convince him otherwise. Mehta did not even try.
‘I reached Kailasher at about 0200 hours and was walking out to stretch my legs after reporting to the Brigade Major (BM), Major Pandit, also a cavalry officer, when this huge, tall NCO from 4 Guards came up to me and told me that Colonel Himmeth and Major Mehta wanted him back immediately.’ Raj elaborated.
As is the norm in armies across the world, the order was phrased as a request, but delivered as an order. Raj took note of the stress laid by the guardsman on the last word, now. Without another word, he headed back to the BM and informed him that he was returning to Litchi Bagan.
The BM suggested that instead of driving back again the whole night, Raj could catch the early morning Kailasher-Khowai-Agartala flight operated by Indian Airlines, if he moved fast, considering it was early morning already.
Grabbing his bags, Raj rus
hed. When he drove up to the airport, he could see the Indian Airlines Avro aircraft taxi-ing down the runaway. The cavalryman raced his one-tonner vehicle down the runaway, catching up and hurtling parallel to the aircraft, trying to catch the pilot’s eye. That obviously did not take much effort, since one-tonner Army vehicles racing with aircrafts is not something one encounters often!
‘The pilot actually stopped the aircraft and when I explained the urgency of my situation, he was sweet enough to take me on board, that too without a ticket,’ explained Raj.
I could easily see the resource and intiative that Himmeth must have seen in him back then.
‘When I got off the aircraft, the first person I saw was Himmeth. He was getting out of a MI4 helicopter,’ he said. There were a couple of other officers with him. They had just returned from an aerial recon, during which they had been fired upon several times and quite effectively, as was evident from the number of bullet holes that Raj spotted strewn across the chopper.
‘The unit was in uproar when I got back. Orders had been received and last minute preparations were in full swing,’ said Raj.
Now that it was certain the unit would be going to war very soon, the next evening Himmeth threw a lavish dinner party.‘Can you imagine?’ Raj gave one of those looks. ‘We were right in the front line, barely five clicks from the border. There was hell breaking loose all around us and Himmeth was giving dinner parties. And not just any odd party,’ Raj waved grandiously. ‘It was better than any five-star dinner I have ever attended,’ he added, laughing. ‘Even the Pakistanis must have been surprised to hear the 4 Guards bagpipers, since each one of us was piped into the mess, as per their battalion’s tradition.’
