THE GARUD STRIKES (8 page)

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.’

He paused again, shook himself slightly, as though trying to get rid of some troubling memories. Then the soldier’s stoicism, and that strange sense of humour, which keeps them alive and ticking, kicked in, almost on cue, knowing it was required to lighten the burden ... and the moment.

‘You know a very funny thing had happened earlier that evening. I was the Support (SP) Company Commander at that time, and just before we started, Himmeth told me that I should be ready to take over from whichever rifle company commander fell first. He told me that in front of all four of the rifle company commanders. I still remember Paunchy telling me not to dare to even dream of coming to take over Alpha Company, which he was commanding, even though I had been commissioned in it. Immediately, Major Kharbanda, who was commanding Bravo Company, also told me that he would not let me come to Bravo either. Tuffy, who was commanding Charlie Company, told me that my aspirations of commanding his company would never materialize. That is when Major Vijay Uppal, who was commanding Delta Company, gave me a pat and told me that since I did not seem to have much choice left, I should feel free to come to his company whenever I wanted to,’ Granthi elaborated.

He was no longer smiling now. No one in the room was. ‘It was strange since it was Uppal who fell first. He took a splinter, from an artillery air burst, in his upper leg, in the groin area. It was a really bad one and he went down immediately. Barely an hour after we were launched, Himmeth ordered me to move forward and replace him as Delta Company Commander.’

The silence was absolute. The sound of a jeep engine revving somewhere outside intruded. Then even that died away. The war had entered the room now. Real. Stark. First blood had been draw
n.

Lieutenant Raj Mohan was moving with Himmeth and the battalion ‘O’ group. They were coming up to Devagram village when they encountered a huge front of sharpened
panjee
(sharpened bamboo stakes); very much like those that had once guarded the moats of medieval forts. Or the implacable wall of spears of a Roman phalanx.

Bravo Company, commanded by Major Kharbanda, was leading the advance for 4 Guards. They halted and began to scout a way around the
panjee
. That is when the first salvo of artillery shells found them. They were airbursts, lighting up the night sky sporadically, like giant firecrackers. Obviously, the guardsmen had blundered down one of the defensive fire tasks selected by the Pakistani defenders of Akhaura.

‘The guardsmen were all carrying picks and shovels. They went into the digging mode immediately,’ Mohan gave a rueful grin. ‘We (tank-men) had none so we just hugged the ground.’

The second salvo was much closer; almost directly overhead, as though the Pakistani Artillery OP (Observation Post) had corrected the range.

‘I heard Major Uppal cry out. He was just a yard or so to my right. He was screaming and seemed to be in tremendous pain,’ Mohan added.

Vijay Uppal felt a sharp blow smash into his lower body. Initially, there was no pain because the high velocity impact of the splinter numbed the flesh. Then pain surged through him like a never-ending wave. Moments later, he felt someone kneel over him. Despite hot lead churning all around them, the medics went to work, trying to staunch the bleeding and stabilize him. Gentle hands began to seek and dress the wound.

‘When I reached Uppal, he was screaming in pain,’ said Paunchy. ‘Vijay Uppal joined 4 Guards when we were at NEFA (North East Frontier Agency) in the early part of 1971. He was an EME (Electrical and Mechanical Engineering) officer on attachment to our unit.’

I noticed the last bit came out a bit condescendingly and was unable to stop my smile;
some things never change.

For the uninitiated, a word about the caste system that afflicts armies the world over is important. Fighting arms (like the infantry and armour) look down on the supporting services (like the EME, ASC and AOC). Although, being a good old infantryman myself, I must add that I have always wondered why they include armour in the fighting arms. They do little by way of fighting, so I guess it must be because of all the sound and fury they generate when they move… or should that be
if
they move.

The artillery firing grew heavier and more accurate as Pakistani gunners corrected the range. Raj Mohan struggled to hug the ground closer. It was a while before the firing eased a bit. The guardsmen seized the moment and began to move again. The medics loaded Uppal on a stretcher and began to cart him away, back towards the Advanced Dressing Station (ADS). When Raj Mohan got up, he realized that the stitching on the rear of his pants had ripped open: ‘I was feeling terrible! I borrowed a piece of my tank driver’s
pagri
(turban), and wrapped it around my waist.’

Feeling a little better with his modesty now partially restored, Raj Mohan resumed his march forward with Himmeth’s group. But it was with a delicate, slighty twisted walk that he went forward to Akhaura, and the battle for it, which was now to commence in all seriousness.

Despite their best efforts, 10 Bihar was unable to locate a suitable gap in the Pakistani defences for 4 Guards to infiltrate through at Lonesar. Time was running short. As per the plan, if 4 Guards had not started infiltration by midnight, then the unit would not move ahead to encircle Akhaura from the west.

The operational window was closing fast when Brigadier R.N. Mishra, Commander, 311 Mountain Brigade, arrived on the scene.

In the midst of gunsmoke and confusion, no one noticed the curtains fall on the first day of December, and a new day began. With it came a deep, rolling fog, settling down on the warring men like a cold shroud.

‘The fog was heaven sent. It prevented the enemy from really getting a fix on us, especially our numbers,’ Granthi explained. ‘And, of course, when daylight came, it was the fog that kept us alive.’