Gurkha

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by Kailash Limbu


  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ I said, picking up my rifle and grabbing two grenades, just in case.

  ‘Gaaz, I’m going forward,’ I shouted above the noise.

  ‘It’s been nice knowing you, guruji,’ he replied without turning round.

  It certainly was dangerous. But tough – I’d just have to hope the Osprey body armour was as good as people said. And that the god’s magic in my lucky coin would work.

  Clambering out, I immediately found I had much better situational awareness. At this stage, there was just a low wall of sandbags to the front, with no overhead cover except for the camnet. The first thing I would do when we had an opportunity would be to get some more sandbags, because in terms of actual protection it offered none at all. Hopefully, though, the cam was enough to screen my movement. The main thing was I was in a much better position to indicate targets using either the infrared laser on my rifle or tracer. So I began to scan the road, paying particular attention to the alleyways leading off it. It was from there that the enemy assault would come.

  Being out here alone was also quite strange, and for a few moments I watched transfixed as the little streaks of light came towards me. The thing was that if you didn’t know they carried death and destruction with them, you would say these streams of tracer climbing through the sky were actually very beautiful. It would be nice to just sit there and watch it, like you watch a fireworks display. To make matters worse, the longer it went on and the longer I hadn’t been hit, the stronger the temptation was to ignore it. I found I had to keep reminding myself that it was meant for me, that it would hurt very badly, that it was the kind of beauty that kills. It was better to be a bit frightened.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that made me freeze. Not one but three or four of the enemy no more than 20 metres away, their weapons clearly pointing towards us as they covered each other forward.

  Aare houu!

  ‘CONTACT! TWENTY METRES!’ I yelled. ‘GET OVER HERE! THEY’RE TRYING TO TURN US OVER!’

  Moving forward, I took a grenade and hurled it in the direction of the figures I’d seen. Before it had even exploded, I pulled the pin on a second one and immediately followed on.

  I don’t think I hit anyone, but at least it must have forced them to take cover. Meanwhile Gaaz and Nagen brought their weapons over, and within seconds the three of us were firing down into the bazaar area. By this time we had picked up one definite enemy firing position, from the clear, steady stream of tracer coming out of the place.

  But the situation was really bad now. With the other two engaging the bazaar area, we had no one to keep suppressing the enemy fire support in Smuggler’s House. What we desperately needed was another GPMG.

  Out here in front of the sangar, I couldn’t use the field telephone, so I pressed the Send button on the PRR. I had just heard Major Rex say that he was still unable to get up onto the roof of the CT due to the weight and accuracy of fire.

  ‘ZERO, THIS IS SANGAR ONE. CONTACT!’

  ‘Zero, go ahead.’

  ‘Enemy closing on my position. Three seen within twenty metres. Have got all weapons engaging likely targets on bazaar side.’

  ‘Roger …’

  There was concern in the OC’s voice.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes, OK. But I have no one on Smuggler’s side now. Any chance of reinforcement, over?’

  ‘Zero, wait. I’ll see what we can do.’

  Hopefully he could send someone from the QRF.

  Not very long after, I heard shouting from inside the compound. It turned out to be Rifleman Lukesh accompanied by Lance Corporal Cook, one of the signallers.

  ‘GURUJI!’ yelled Cookie. ‘WE’VE GOT YOU ANOTHER JIMPY!’

  This was great news.

  ‘OK, COME ON UP. BUT BE CAREFUL NOT TO EXPOSE YOURSELF!’

  If the enemy caught sight of them, he’d throw everything at us. There’d be bound to be a casualty.

  I waited in suspense as they climbed up onto the position. Gaaz and Nagen redoubled their efforts to give maximum possible covering fire.

  ‘’Ere you are, guruji!’ said Cookie triumphantly, as he appeared carrying the ammunition for the second jimpy.

  ‘Quick! Get inside! Soon as you can, get some rounds down on Smuggler’s House.’

  A moment later, Lukesh followed him up, carrying the weapon itself. We were now five on a position that normally only had three.

  ‘Come on then, Lukie,’ I heard Cookie say. ‘You give to it them jatha till they don’t know if it’s Christmas, Easter or Ramadana-ding-dong!’

  He was a brilliant guy, Cookie. To have come in under those conditions was really brave, especially considering the fact that he was a signaller and not an infanteer.

  Within hardly more than a minute of the second GPMG’s arrival, all three machine guns were blasting away. The enemy meanwhile was nowhere to be seen, so at least we were forcing them to keep under cover. What we did not want was for them to get close enough to be able to put ladders up. If they managed to turn us over, or even just to get over a wall or in through the gate, there was going to be trouble. Then it would be hand-to-hand fighting. And that, although we would happily do it if necessary, is something you want to avoid if at all possible. Scrambling back inside the sangar, I picked up the field telephone.

  ‘Zero, this is Sangar One. Sitrep.’

  ‘Zero, go ahead.’

  ‘Sangar One, reinforcements engaging known fire positions, plus I have two riflemen engaging targets on bazaar side.’

  ‘Zero, roger. Any more on those pax you saw earlier?’

  ‘Nothing seen since I engaged with L109s.’

  ‘Roger.’

  With the immediate threat over, I had a moment to take stock. One thing I needed to keep an eye on was the barrel on Gaaz’s jimpy. You need to change it approximately every 400 rounds, and it had to be getting close now. If you don’t change it, it gets so hot that it distorts and you lose accuracy quite dramatically. I also needed to keep an eye on the ammo state in both sangars. We were getting through it at a huge rate.

  Flicking the switch on my PRR, I put the question to the bhais in Sangar 3.

  ‘How much ammo have you got left, Lance Corporal Shree?’

  There was a pause of ten or fifteen seconds before he got back to me. In that time, there was a slight lull in the enemy’s fire. Instead of a torrent of tracer climbing up at us, individual streams were coming. What did this mean? Were they manoeuvring to get closer? First light would be in about forty minutes, so maybe they were looking to get in position for an assault while it was still dark.

  ‘Ammo state is getting low, guruji.’

  ‘Roger.’

  ‘Bhai haru! How’s your ammo in there?’ It shouldn’t be too bad, as Cookie and Lukesh had brought a lot with them.

  ‘More than one box!’ yelled Gaaz.

  ‘Same!’ replied Nagen.

  ‘More than half!’ shouted Lukesh.

  Just as I was on the point of calling the CT, Gaaz let out a yell.

  ‘Over there, guruji!’

  ‘What?’

  He was waving frantically at me to come over.

  ‘Look! In the compound over there!’

  He was pointing to a compound over the other side of the road. Squinting through my binos, I was just in time to see four or five men sprint out of the shadows and into another compound no more than 50 metres north of our position.

  ‘How many do you say?’

  ‘There was a whole crowd of them. At least fifteen.’

  Ayee! The compound in question was out of arc to us, so there was no possibility of engaging it, but I sent an immediate contact report.

  ‘Zero, this is Sangar One. Contact. Probable enemy FUP identified. Wait …’ I took a quick bearing and glanced at my map before giving the grid.

  ‘Zero, roger. That’s one for Zero One Alpha.’ Zero One Alpha was the tactical air controller.

  Tha
t meant air assets must be approaching. Not a moment too soon!

  ‘Zero One Alpha, roger. AH inbound, five minutes.’

  ‘Zero, roger. Did you copy that, Sangar One?’

  ‘AH inbound, five minutes.’

  ‘Correct. Out to you. Charlie Charlie One, this is Zero. Air assets inbound, less than five minutes. Out.’

  A moment later, the field telephone rang and Mathers sahib continued.

  ‘Sangar One, reference suspected FUP, are you able to see any pax at this time?’

  ‘Sangar One, no, over.’

  ‘Zero, roger. Let me know as soon as you have anything further to report.’

  ‘Roger.’

  It was a tense few minutes while we waited for the Apache to appear. In the meantime we kept our weapons trained on the compound, waiting for the enemy to show himself again. The sky was just beginning to soften from black to grey at the approach of dawn. Chances were the enemy wouldn’t stick around once we had air support.

  ‘Charlie Charlie One, air assets in thirty seconds.’

  The OC’s voice broke in on my thoughts. A moment later he announced what we could already hear: an Apache helicopter now approaching.

  ‘Apache overhead in ten seconds,’ he said. ‘He’ll take at a look at that compound and engage the enemy if he can get a PID.’

  There was a roar and a clatter of blades as the heli swept down towards us.

  ‘Pilot confirms PID! Heads down, everyone. I say again, heads down,’ Rex sahib ordered.

  ‘HEADS DOWN! HEADS DOWN!’ I repeated.

  There was a loud tearing sound as a Hellfire missile hurtled through the breaking dawn, followed by a bright flash and a stupendous bang.

  A collective cheer went up from inside the sangar.

  ‘That’ll teach them a lesson!’ cried Gaaz triumphantly.

  It certainly was a very pleasing sight, although I had my doubts as to whether there was anyone still inside. In between looking at the target and engaging it, there was every chance the enemy could have made a getaway. It was only when the helicopter left after engaging several other targets with its Gatling gun that it became obvious that not all the insurgents had got away in time. We could hear their screams in the distance.

  ‘Like I said, that’ll teach you, you jatha,’ said Gaaz with grim satisfaction.

  I had to agree.

  As the sound of beating chopper blades faded into the distance, and those of distress subsided, the tinny sound of the muezzin’s address spilled from a nearby megaphone.

  ‘Allaaahu akbar … Allah is most great … I testify that there is no God but Allah … I testify that Muhammad is the prophet of Allah … Come to prayer. Come to salvation … Allaaahu akbar … There is no God but Allah.’

  ‘Come on, bhai haru,’ I said, scrambling back into the main sangar position. ‘There’s work to do. We need to get this place tidied up. And don’t forget your SOPs just because the shooting has stopped. There are probably snipers still out there.’

  Empty 7.62 and 5.56 cases and links lay scattered all over the place, ankle-deep. We were swimming in the stuff, not to mention all the sand that covered everything.

  ‘Here, Gaaz, Cookie, you two take a sandbag each and get filling. Lukesh, you keep covering out towards the school while I watch the street and find out what Lance Corporal Shree and the other bhais are up to.’

  I flicked the PRR switch to send.

  ‘Lance Corporal Shree? You guys OK in there? See anything?’

  ‘OK, guruji. Nothing seen. We were just going to start clearing up.’

  ‘That’s good. Just make sure you keep a sharp lookout. There could still be snipers.’

  The words were hardly out of my mouth when a burst of automatic gunfire ripped through the air. So they hadn’t all gone home for breakfast.

  ‘Aayo! Where did that go, anyone?’

  ‘That was for us,’ said Lance Corporal Shree helpfully.

  ‘Roger,’ I said before turning to the others.

  ‘Well, we have been warned, so I want proper discipline at all times,’ I continued, picking up the field telephone.

  ‘Sunray, this is Sangar One. Sangar Three reports that last contact was aimed at him.’

  ‘Roger. We’ll assume there are snipers still out there. Keep a good lookout.’

  ‘Roger out.’

  ‘Guruji. That’s three sandbags,’ announced Rifleman Lukesh as I returned the receiver to its cradle. ‘We don’t have any more and we’re only halfway there.’

  ‘Well we’ll get some more later, as soon as we’re stood down. In the meantime, give me a hand and we’ll sweep the rest into the corner here,’ I said as I got going.

  Within about fifteen minutes we had the place looking quite tidy, and I stopped to wipe my brow and have a drink.

  ‘Tiring work, hunsa?’ I said to Lukesh as I passed him the bottle.

  ‘Certainly is, guruji,’ he replied with a smile.

  Just then I realised I was completely exhausted. For the best part of six hours, give or take a few minutes, we’d been operating at maximum power. I doubt there’d been more than two minutes that I’d stayed in one position. The rest of the time I’d been scrambling from one side of the platform to the other, scanning with my nightsight or my weapon sight, looking, looking and hoping. Hoping to catch sight of the enemy, desperate to get a clear shot in at him. And for much of the time, there’d been an incredible intensity of fire. It seemed miraculous that, again, no one had been hit. That talisman Mum had given me must be working.

  13

  Man Down

  It wasn’t until around 6 a.m. that we were eventually stood down. This was too late to change duties without exposing ourselves to the risk of snipers, so the OC ordered us to remain in post throughout the day. This meant we had to take it in turns to try to snatch some sleep inside the sangar – what we called chicken sleep. I organised a rota so that we each got two hours’ rest to every four hours on duty. But it was too hot and we were still too pumped up from the night before to get any proper rest.

  In the meantime, after clearing up, we spent quite a lot of time talking over the night’s events, in particular our ambush of the three leopard-crawlers.

  ‘I just don’t get it,’ said Gaaz. ‘I mean, they didn’t do anything to try and save themselves. They just came out, knowing we were waiting for them.’

  ‘Maybe they were just following orders,’ said Nagen.

  ‘Obviously. But couldn’t they adapt their plan to suit the new situation?’

  ‘It is strange,’ I agreed.

  ‘My guess is they just shouted Allahu akbar, God is great, and off they went,’ concluded Gaaz. ‘Stupid jathas.’

  Then we were silent. I have to say that even though I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again in the same situation, I did feel a bit sorry for those guys. They must have been terrified, just like we were.

  Looking out over Now Zad that morning was like looking at a ghost town – except that these ghosts weren’t just lost souls, they were violent, angry spirits just like those you see in religious paintings. They were hungry for blood – Afghan blood, Gurkha blood, British blood, it didn’t matter whose, so long as it was human and that it was spilled, that life was extinguished, that death should rule. This feeling was intensified by the heat. Only a few scavenging flies stirred. You knew that they would feed just as happily off your maimed and broken body as off the crumbs of biscuit on the sangar floor. It was like we were the last outpost of civilisation on the edge of the world.

  ‘Tell you what, guruji,’ said Gaaz after some time. ‘It makes you glad you’re a Gurkha when you come to a place like this. I mean, look at us. Here we are, stuck out in the middle of nowhere being shot at half the time. But we’ve got each other and we’re doing something useful. We’ve come to help the local people. That’s got to be a good thing, even though they don’t seem very grateful. And when things get really tough, we’ve always got something to joke about, hunza, guruji? I mean, every
time I think back to selection I always find something to laugh about.’

  We spent quite a lot of the rest of the day chatting about our first experience of Gurkha life. Of course, it wasn’t the only thing we did. As section commander, I had a lot more to think about than the riflemen. For a start, their welfare was my responsibility but my welfare was not their responsibility. As a result, apart from needing to stay on top of the ammo situation and general supplies, I was thinking about them all the time. Were they getting enough to eat, enough rest, enough exercise? Did they have a good conversation when they last called home? No family worries? Are they coping with the heat? How are they coping with coming under attack? Are they getting on each other’s nerves? All these concerns and more are yours to think about as section commander before you even start thinking about yourself. And when you’ve finished making sure you yourself are in good shape, there is the ever-present thought of the enemy. But talking about Gurkha selection was a good way of occupying the long hours when you had to keep people going.

  ‘So come on, guruji,’ Gaaz demanded. ‘You were telling us about selection. What about the second stage?’

  Having passed the first selection, I was eligible for the next stage, which took place at Taplejung, the main town in our area. All those who had passed the local selection came together about a month later to compete with each other at district level. This time there were probably a thousand-plus people for just fourteen places to go ahead to the final selection board in Pokhara.

  There were two different streams: one for ordinary Guard Duty and another for those who had achieved a higher level at school. This was EGD, or Educated Guard Duty. Thanks to my good academic results, I was part of the second stream.

  As before, there was a fitness test where you had to perform sit-ups and pull-ups. I had done a lot of training since the first selection and, as before, I was one of the two or three tallest guys there, so I wasn’t too worried about this. Then we were divided up and there was some marching in squads, and a run. After that, we all had to undergo a medical. Finally, there was an interview. First, they asked me about my education. This was followed by something more like a cross-examination.

 

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