Advance to Contact – A Soldiers Account of Bangladesh Liberation War – Major Dr Akhtar Ahmed Birprotik

Advance to Contact – A Soldiers Account of Bangladesh Liberation War – Major Dr Akhtar Ahmed Birprotik

বিশেষ দ্রষ্টব্যঃ কপিরাইট সমস্যা যাতে না হয় সেকারণে সকল লেখা শুধুমাত্র ‘only Readable’, ‘non-downloadable’ ও ‘non-clickable’ রাখা হয়েছে। সংগ্রামের নোটবুকের সকল নথি-পত্রিকা-দলিল-সংকলন-বই থেকে নেয়া তথ্য-ছবি-ভিডিও শুধুমাত্র গবেষণার কাজে ব্যবহার্য। বাংলাদেশের স্বাধীনতা সংগ্রাম ও মুক্তিযুদ্ধ গবেষণার জন্য সংগ্রামের নোটবুক একটি অলাভজনক অবাণিজ্যিক স্বেচ্ছাশ্রমে গড়া প্রচেষ্টা।

INTRODUCTION

The Liberation Struggle for Bangladesh has been over more than a quarter of a century ago. The battlefields have once again become green fields of paddy and sugarcane, or have turned into townships and marketplaces. Those of us who fought in the war are now part of the older generation. Yet, for us 1971 is a pride, an exclusive garden of memories to repose and bask in golden sunshine, an escapade and private recluse from the daily chores of life. That was how it had been for me for many years since and would have remained so for the rest of my life. Then one day Molly, a friend’s daughter, looked up at me with her innocent wide eyes and said “Uncle, tell me about the Liberation War. I want to know what happened during that time!” Molly was a little girl with her ponytails dangling and swaying by the side of her neck. I said, “Sure I will sweetie. It all started like this…” Then I was groping for words. I didn’t know what to say or where to begin. There are things I have seen, done and felt in my own way but it was not easy for me to convey all that to Molly in words. She stood there asking me to pass on the pride of our time to their generation. The Liberation War brought our nation together in trying days and helped bring out the best of our characters like courage, sacrifice and other human qualities. A sovereign country was born as a result. Pakistan Army killed and tortured countless unarmed people, destroyed families and social structures. But that is only how the liberation war began and not the war in itself. Over the years our media have projected the deaths, the rapes and the sufferings of our people, save our fight, the resolve to fight, the sacrifices made in
order to fight, the training and the creation of liberation forces. The personal and collective sacrifices, the courage with which a peace loving, poetry writing peasant nation transformed into valiant warriors, matched, fought and defeated the mighty Pakistan army is rarely portrayed correctly and convincingly by the media. We should portray the Liberation War correctly for the future generations. Otherwise to them it would remain confined to the images of death and horror. The concept of the Liberation War would remain confined to defeat, humiliation and pain. One would naturally ask, how was it possible to achieve freedom just by suffering and dying in the hands of aggressors? Nazi Germany killed six million Jews in the Second World War. But this was not a factor for their eventual defeat. If they had killed twelve million other civilians, even that would not have been a factor for their losing the war. The Germans lost the war because in the eastern front, the Soviets fought the Germans tooth and nail and because the allied forces had superior firepower and manpower than the Germans. The allied forces had to fight for every inch of land to defeat Germany. That is why when we read about the world war, it is not only about killing of the Jews and other people, but also about the fights and advances of the allied forces till the final victory. The media not only shows the rubbles of London or the captive Paris, but also the destruction of Berlin. In 1971 Pakistan army was a far superior force. We, a peace loving unarmed nation in return changed into fighters, fought with the mighty Pakistan Army. We destroyed and broke the morale of Pakistan army so much that they waited to surrender almost without a fight when Indian army chipped in with us in the battle. That the Indian Army helped us in our fight is beyond doubt, but Pakistan army surrendered en masse just because Indian army came to help us with its might is not true. In the doctrine of Pakistan army there is no such thing as surrender to Indians. To any other nation may be, but not to Indians. Because India is the arch-enemy of Pakistan. One might be tempted to say that a Pakistani is genetically incapable of surrendering to India be it in a cricket match, be it in a war. In all war exercises Pakistan army portrayed Indians as the enemy, not Afghans or Chinese. Each Pakistani soldier is told that he is to fight not just one but nine Indian soldiers, because of the numerical majority of Indians. Therefore when Indian Army came into the battle, Pakistan army should have been only too happy to put their life long training to test. Why would they surrender instead? They did so because Mukti Bahini (The Liberation Forces) had already crushed their morale to fight. That, is our victory. Every nation in the world has something of its own to be proud of. The English have their conquests and Nelson, the Germans have their scores of Nobel prizes and other accomplishments, the French have their Revolution and Napoleon, and the Americans have their Bill of Rights and Abraham Lincoln. We have ’52 and ’71. In 1952 we fought for Bengali language and in 1971 we fought for our motherland. We won in both. War of Liberation does not come easy for any nation, neither it is a normal war. A War of Liberation may take place once in a century or millenium. It is therefore a task on the part of everyone who participated directly or indirectly to provide the facts of that particular time and period of the events, enabling the future generation to understand in totality as facts not as mere stories. Our new generations should know about the saga of our strife, struggle, pains and sacrifices in the war of Liberation, as a result of which ‘Bangladesh’ came into existence. Future generations were born free citizens of an independent country. They must not be deprived of the pride and glory of the great Liberation War where we defeated Pakistan Army and won back the dignity for our country. History Traditionally, Bengal with her plentiful resources, was a nonviolent country. As a result, she had always been at the receiving end of attacks and subjugation from her western neighbors like the Marathas, the Afghans and the Mughals. In the framework of Pakistan, two completely different linguistic, ethnic and cultural groups thousand miles apart, with nothing in common except Islam were put into one pot. The dominant force in Pakistan was of the west wing because of its superiority in financial power, absolute control of civil administration and defense services since the time of formation of Pakistan. While civil and military rulers controlled the government, de facto ownership of Pakistan was in the hands of moneyed landowners of Punjab and Sind and other financial powerhouses. These people had neither any knowledge of the land, people or culture of East Pakistan nor did they care. To them East Pakistan was a faceless territory under their occupation, a colony at best, not equivalent of home or an equal partner. The average East Pakistani traditionally respected their fairer and taller fellow Muslims from the west wing, who were also nearer to the origin of Islam speaking Urdu or Poshtu that are written with Arabic alphabets. Consequently domination from west wing was accepted as fair fate. Over time, pride for the cultural heritage of Bengal and love for Bengali language and literature took precedence over religion based political culture. People first reacted against the attempt to subjugate Bengali language and in course of time against other deprivations. Virtual non-representation from east wing at policy making levels either in army, civil or financial matters was an added factor for grievances.

Oblivious to the potential strength of the growing discontent, policy makers in Pakistan, generally maintained and nurtured the double standard between east and west. There were some genuine and tangible attempts to uplift the economic standards of the people of east wing, which helped raise capital for some families in the east wing. But the attempts were either too little too late, or were not visible enough. As a result the good gesture went largely unrecognized by the political process. To counter the growing discontent, policy makers sought ways like banning politics, arresting political leaders, and finally charged Sheikh Mujibur Rahman with allegations of involvement in ‘Agartala Conspiracy Case”. The case ran for years with Mujib’s name in the headlines of newspapers everyday, which made him more popular among people of East Pakistan as they identified him as a fellow victim of Pakistani oppression. In the end ‘Agartala Conspiracy Case turned in to a fiasco and Mujib had to be released. This proved the unscrupulous means of the Government to contain leadership of East Pakistan and confirmed that Pakistan Government’s policy towards East Pakistan was unfair. Mujib became champion of East Pakistani grievances. For 1970 election, Adult Franchise of one man one vote was declared by President Yahia Khan instead of previous ‘Parity between the two wings system. Out of 300 seats in the National Parliament, east wing got 162 and west got 138 seats. In the election an overwhelming majority of East Pakistanis unexpectedly voted for Awami League. Awami League, led by Mujibur Rahman became the majority party even without any
————–
1. In Agartala Conspiracy Case, Government of Pakistan charged Mujib
along with some others of involvement in a conspiracy against integrity of Pakistan and put him in jail.
———
5
seat from west wing. It became obvious that Bengalis could now return any person of their choice to be the Prime Minister of Pakistan. Bhutto had no chance of becoming the Prime Minister as long as adult franchise remained in force because of numerical majority in East Pakistan. Pakistani interest groups could not accept Mujib to be the Prime Minister because to them Mujib was an outsider. He neither represented nor belonged to their class or group. Bhutto played the role of the champion for the interest groups of West Pakistan. East Pakistan had become a liability for him. Bhutto’s only chance was if he could form Government in West Pakistan as the single majority there. But that was not possible under one Pakistan system. Agitation in East Pakistan was allowed to reach a point of no return. Lame excuses were brought up and the promised parliament session was not allowed to take place though by law President would have to invite Mujib to form the National Government. This finally convinced the Bengalis that East Pakistan’s right of equality never existed in Pakistan and East Pakistan would never be allowed to get her fair share. Only this time Bengalis were not prepared to accept this unfairness. In March 1971, in response to the political deadlock and growing unrest, Pakistan Army unleashed genocide in Dhaka. Unarmed civilians, women and children were not spared. No army can kill it’s own civilian population including women and children indiscriminately for any reason unless the population is regarded as enslaved subjects instead of fellow citizens. Bengalis were not organized or prepared to go to war with the mighty Pakistan Army. But they were determined to avenge the killing, to avenge the insult and to regain their dignity.
They went to war with whatever limited resources they had. India supported Mukti Bahini (Bengali freedom fighters) with arms, supplies, training, shelter and occasionally, with manpower. For nine months Mukti Bahini gained strength, kept up fighting and drew Pakistan Army through various stages of guerrilla warfare all over the country. During the final assault beginning 3rd December, India recognized Bangladesh government in exile and joined in the war physically under a joint command of Indian and Bangladeshi forces. Except for a few odd cases of resistance, within two weeks Pakistan Army surrendered en masse without a fight. POW (prisoner of war) status was arranged for them. It was made sure that they would be protected from Mukti Bahini revenge. It seemed Pakistan Army were waiting and were relieved to become POWs in the hands of Indians rather than fighting a war. As a result of 1971 war, the land mass previously known as East Pakistan, became an independent country called Bangladesh.
7
Book 1.

Before the War Dhaka Medical College 1970 After graduating from Dhaka Medical College, I was posted as a Junior House Surgeon in Surgical ward No. 5. My job was more like a junior Clerk rather than a surgeon because what we did there most was noting down detailed history of patients and instructions for the patients. Practical surgical work was limited to cleaning old dressings, preparing patients on operation dates, keeping track of details, running around as an errand boy on operation days, bringing in blood from blood bank, hanging up an infusion, spending sleepless nights in the post op. ward, and being accused for all lapses. All this was part of my job. Cups and cups of tea in the Doctor’s canteen every now and then were the only respite. But then again, that is how one starts a career in surgery in Dhaka Medical College and I was no different. I got used to the hard work and the way of life in the hospital. In fact I started liking it. A day would not be complete without a visit to the hospital. Then one day it was time for me to scrub my hands for the OT (Operation Theater), handle instruments, sew up open wounds, and enter into real surgery, which should have led to a promotion to Senior House Surgeon, but this was not to be. My professor Dr. Ali Ashraf, was a heavyweight in the profession although physically he was diminutive. He needed an extra platform on the floor to reach the patient on the OT table. He commanded respect and reverence for his knowledge and efficiency. In the surgical unit he was the absolute boss. In the OT nothing moved without his saying so and nobody dared talk except for replying to his questions.

On one particular day in the OT, while an operation was underway, Professor was talking to one of his old assistants, who was now a senior surgeon himself somewhere else, and had come by to meet the Professor. Clinical Asst. Mahboob bhai was assisting. Khudabox and myself stood as second assistants. It was a routine case and the atmosphere in the OT was relaxed. During their talk, at one point the guest casually asked the professor “how are they doing”, pointing at the general direction of Khudabox and myself. The Professor said, “they better be good, or I will kick their butts”, and they continued talking on different matters. I felt terribly insulted. What kind of an opinion is that, more so in front of an outsider? Especially when we did nothing wrong. Is it supposed to be the recognition of the donkey’s work that we had been doing for all these months! The comment professor had made was going round and round in my head long after the OT (operation) was over. I just couldn’t accept the insult. By evening I knew I had to tell my feelings to the Professor or I would not have any peace of mind. So instead of going to the hospital, I went to see the Professor. At first he couldn’t recognize me, not that I expected him to. Except for the first day of my service, he had never talked to me, nor had he showed any interest in how his new juniors were doing. We never even had eye contact during work. During his visits to the ward, we trailed him from bed to bed. In the OT we were all masked up, and whenever we came across him in the hospital corridors and passages, we just stood aside and let him pass. So I was not surprised that he did not recognize me. I had to introduce myself, “Sir, I am a junior house surgeon in your unit.”
He was very polite, “Oh I see. So! What can I do for you my friend?” I was not sure anymore. He seemed to be such a composed and well-behaved person, totally different from what he normally is at the hospital, a firebrand bulldozer (a smoking steamroller). But I had to say something. After a couple of false starts I finally blurted out, “Sir, that matter in the OT this morning hurt me.” He was surprised, “Which matter you are talking about brother?”

I recounted the whole incident to remind him and said, “Sir, I am working under you, if I do anything wrong, I am always ready to accept rebukes or punishment. But today I felt insulted when you said you would kick us even though we had not done anything wrong. I just wanted you to know that.” Professor must have had a shock from such a complaint. He sat stunned for a few moments then in a very low lifeless voice said, “Look here my friend, it is true that Surgeons in the OT sometimes are loud or even foul, but that is not to demean or degrade anyone. They usually wish well for junior doctors, even if they sometimes fail to show it. However, if I have hurt you in any way, then I am really sorry. I shall try not to repeat such incident.” The frosty response and apology from my professor made me uneasy. I am not sure what kind of response I expected, but definitely not this. It seemed like cutting off communication of whatever little there was. From the next day, that was exactly what happened. Professor became silent. Everybody could notice that. Mahboob bhai remarked one day, “What is the matter, Professor doesn’t bully anymore! I wonder what made him cool off”. I did not volunteer to tell that I was responsible.

Professor stopped noticing me altogether as if I did not exist, but he was talking to Khudabox more often. I could feel in my bones that I have had it. He is not going to teach me anything now and there would be no point in pursuing a career in Surgery. One couldn’t do that without patronization from one’s Professor. But I had only myself to blame for the stupid things that I did. Me and my ego! The first choice in my career planning (!) was to join Al-Fatah of Palestine as a physician. Once I saw a photograph in the newspaper showing a funeral procession for a physician of PLO. The respect of martyrdom in PLO impressed me. I met the PLO representative in their office in Dhaka University Campus. They declined my request to put my name forward as a volunteer. They said their main objective of being here is publicity and fund collection. They were not considering recruitment. Surgery was my second choice. With that possibility diminished, my next choice was joining Army. I had already appeared for commission in the Pakistan Army Medical Corps, and now I would join the Army without hesitation. Most of our batch mates had left for UK, through employment exchange. Some of our classmates appeared for ECFMG (Education Council for Foreign Medical Graduates) examination and went to the United States. About six of us were waiting for call up letter from Army. The rest of our classmates stayed back in the hospital to pursue careers in Medicine, Surgery or Gynecology and other subjects. Around the same time I got married with my sweetheart and went to Cox’s Bazar for honeymoon. The great cyclone of ’70 hit southern coast of East Pakistan causing devastation of catastrophic proportions. Hundreds of thousands died. Relief teams were being organized in Dhaka to go and work in the affected areas. After we returned to Dhaka from Cox’s Bazar, I volunteered for relief duties with such a team organized by Mohila Somity led by Begum Sufia Kamal. In this group, all the organizers were ladies associated with ‘Mohila Somity’ or women’s federation. The volunteers were mostly these ladies and their children aged between 17 to 22. Rest of the volunteers were also from younger generation and from different segments of the society. Seeing the enormous nature of the calamity, we came back from the effected area within a week, collected more food clothes and medicine and went back with a larger team. This time my wife also came along. During these two trips we came in close contact with cross section of common people living in remote villeges and witnessed their woes, which moved us all very deeply. More importantly, we the volunteers developed a unique kind of friendship and bondage amongst ourselves while working tirelessly through day and night for the cyclone devastated localities. All this time I was waiting for my call up from Army. I had been provisionally posted to Malir Cantonment in Karachi. So I was preparing to leave my wife at home and go to West Pakistan. But as the final call up came, Malir was changed to Comilla in East Pakistan. Which was good for me because my Father-in-law was a Judge in Comilla City. Soon I bade farewell to Dhaka Medical College and set out for Comilla with my wife by the train “Ulka’.
———–
2. Most of the participants of the relief work also later joined the
liberation war in one capacity or another. Some of them died fighting the war (Rumi and Chinku), and the rest, remained close friends for the rest of their lives.
———
Joining Army Comilla was famous for cleanliness, cheap rickshaw fare and Roshomalai; a popular Bengali sweet dish made from milk. In Comilla my wife Khuku stayed at my In-law’s place and I went on to report to my unit, 40 Field Ambulance in the cantonment. The cantonment is about five miles to the west from Sashongacha rail crossing. The road is narrow but carpeted and well maintained. The road twisted and turned up to cantonment and beyond through Chandina, Illiatganj, Daudkandi, some ferries and on to Dhaka. On the other side the same road passed through Comilla, Feni and on to Chittagong. From the cantonment one diversion road goes to Sylhet by way of Brahmanbaria. At the MP check post in the cantonment, the sentry checked my posting order, saluted and instructed the rickshawallah the way to 40 Fd. Amb. The world is somewhat different within cantonments. Roads and sidewalks are very clean and well maintained. Troops look different from other pedestrians. They are slim, tall and have strong muscles, yet they don’t look like body builders. Some of them are in Khaki shorts and vest, rest are in full uniform. One aspect of army discipline is chain of command. From the top general to the youngest foot soldier, all are part of the chain of command. Command is passed down from top to bottom. In either military uniform or in civilian cloths, when two army persons come across one another, they wish. Wishing is in reverse of pecking order. While in uniform, wishing is by salute, when not in uniform, one just comes to attention for a second. While in uniform, it is important that one’s exact location in the pecking order is visible. So all uniformed personnel have an insignia on shoulder or on upper arm. Ordinary Jawans (Foot soldiers) do not have any stripe, a lance corporal has one stripe in the shape of “V”, a corporal has two, and a sergeant has three stripes. The color of stripe differs to indicate Corps or Arms. The Junior Commissioned Officers have one or two stars on the shoulder with a ribbon across at the bottom of the stars. A second lieutenant has just one star on shoulder without ribbon, the Lieutenant has two and a Captain has three stars. The cap also differs in color and insignia to indicate the corps of Arm the soldier belongs to. The JCOs are usually seasoned looking bunch as they start their career as a simple Jawan and take years through hard army life to reach this stage. 2 Lt. and Lieutenants are young and bright looking as they are basically fresh graduates from Army schools, aged around twenty. Graduates from Medical College join Medical Corps directly as a Captain. For the first six months of service however, they remain on probation and have two stars on shoulder as lieutenant. Which is what I am going to be on joining. The facade of 40 Fd. Amb. was not very impressive. The rickshaw stopped by the side of a patch of garden work, at the end of which there was a barrack made of brick walls and corrugated asbestos roof. A typical army barrack with one row of rooms, with a shaded open space along the rooms as wide as the rooms itself. The first room was marked ‘Commandant with a name, “Lt. Col. Jahangir”. A sentry stood outside with lot of shining brass and leather on his uniform. He is the stick orderly of the Commanding Officer. The next room was marked 2 I/C (second in command). I was directed to the 2 1/C Capt. Badiul Alam. I introduced myself. Capt. Badiul Alam took my papers and gave it to a clerk for processing. I was taken for a brief audience with the CO. Next thing in order was to meet other officers of the unit. I was taken to the tearoom where rest of the officers of the unit spent the working hours. The room was full with about eight to ten officers in uniform and civilian cloths. I knew most of them from Dhaka or Rajshahi Medical College. Among my friends were Farooq from Rajshahi, Abul Hussain and Syed Moinuddin from Dhaka, they all joined within days of each other as the call up letter came. There were some other doctors from Rajshahi like Shorful and Badrul. Among other officers were Shamsuddin, Jahangir and Mokhter Kamal Choudhury from Chittagong Medical College. In the unit, except for Capt. Mahboob all other officers including CO and 2 I/C were Bengalis. Capt. Mahboob was a nice person, senior of the bunch; he welcomed me for the group and helped me getting around. In Army there are two types of medical units, C.M.H. (Combined Military Hospital) and Field Ambulance. A CMH is more like a regular hospital, stationed permanently at a particular location like cantonments. They serve Specialist and Indoor services to Army, as well as Navy and Air Force units in the locality. Field Ambulance is the mobile medical unit of an Army Brigade. It provides medical coverage to troops in combat zone or any place outside cantonment area. Services include first aid and evacuation and medical/surgical services at multiple locations in the combat area. To provide these services, there are medical officers, paramedics and plenty of ambulances. So during peacetime, on an ordinary day, the doctors in the field ambulance do not have much to do. The medical officers in the tearoom of 40 Fd. Amb. remained there for most part of the day. At 2 p.m. office was over. I accompanied Abul Hussain, Farooq and Moin to the Brigade Mess for lunch. 24 FF Regiment ran the mess. Comilla cantonment was brigade strength with a few battalions of infantry, a Commando Battalion, an Artillery regiment, and with units of Engineers, EME, ASC and AMC.
15
The Honeymoon Lodge

Nobody knew for sure why the solitary lodge on the hilltop serving as a bachelor’s mess had been named as honeymoon lodge. May be once upon a time a couple honeymooned there, or may be the name just stuck because of its romantic location. The lodge was a large house shaded with cottonwood and mango trees and the only sound one could hear was the rustling of leaves. A row of senior army officer’s bungalows called *Bawani quarters’ could be seen below from the road to the lodge. Abul Hussain, Farooq and Moin shared one room in Honeymoon lodge. Now I squeezed in. Capt. Islam and 2 Lt. Imamuzzaman from Artillery occupied the next room. Lt. Salahuddin from Engineers and Lt. Nurunnabi from EME shared the room next to that. Some West Pakistani Officers from other units occupied another wing of the lodge. I did not have any reservation against people from west wing of Pakistan. My best friend in Medical College was Arshad from Lahore, and my table tennis partner in Medical College was Aftab from Karachi. Teaming up with Bengali officers were more of a convenience because then one could speak in Bangla. With a West Pakistani, one had to speak English or Urdu as they could not speak in Bengali. Pakistan Army consisted mostly of West Pakistanis. The Frontier Pathans, Punjabis and Baluchis were traditionally soldiers for generations. Bengal Regiment was formed only a decade ago in Pakistan time. And so far only eight Bengal regiments had been raised while there are hundreds of regiments from West Pakistan. In other Arms like Engineers, Lancers and Artillery, recruitment from east wing was negligible in comparison to recruitment from west wing. But somehow, in Army Medical Corps, Electrical and Mechanical Engineering Corps and in Education Corps representation of Bengalis were relatively higher.
My days in the Field Ambulance unit started at a slow pace. The Co of the unit Lt. Col. Jahangir was rarely present. But whenever he was there, everybody remained alert, especially the 2 1/C. Capt. Badiul Alam almost never sat down when CO was around. When CO was not there, the atmosphere was more relaxed and the 2 I/C could sit down and attend to our various needs. I did not have anything to do. During office hours between 7:30 in the morning to 2:00 p.m. Ordinary sick reports from different units came to the Field Ambulance which was attended by one of the medical officers. Then except for an occasional call to attend sick report in a distant unit most of the time we just sat in the tearoom. Tea break was at 11:00. Tea was served with freshly prepared snacks like somusa or shammi kabab. There would be an officer or two from other units joining us for tea. Then lunch at the 24 FF mess after office closes at 2:00 and return to Honeymoon lodge. This became a routine. After the busy and exciting days at Medical College, the idle pace of life in the field ambulance was a contrast and somewhat boring to me.
The Station Club The evenings were more to my liking. The Station Club was attractive and inviting like a lighted ship in a dark sea. Inside there was a lounge, a bar, TV room, Library, Card room, Ladies and family rooms. Outside there were tennis and squash courts. The club used to be full in the evening with young and senior officers with their families and guests who were mostly planters from tea gardens of Sylhet, on their way to Dhaka or Chittagong. Most of the clubgoers were West Pakistanis. Senior Bengali officers or their families hardly ever went there. Among young Bengali officers, Captain Zafar Imam and Lt. Mahboob of 24 FF., Capt. Gaffar and 2 Lt. Mahboob of 4 East Bengal Regiment, Lt. Salahuddin and Lt. Atiq of Engineers Regiment, Capt. Maqbool of Education Corps, Lt. Abul Hussain and myself from AMC frequented the club more often than others. Among senior officers, Lt. Col. Shahpur Khan of 24 FF was often present at the bar and attracted a large crowd around him. I preferred the card table most and spent some time in the TV room with a casual glass of whisky or a mug of beer. Many people gathered to attend the 8 o’clock English news on TV. After the News and dinner at the mess, we returned to honeymoon lodge. Thus I started getting used to the Army life and yet I could not forget the free and merry days in Dhaka.

21″ February

Then came 21 February, the language movement day. On this day in 1952, Bengali youths Salam, Barkat, Rafique and Jabbar gave their lives during the language movement demanding Bengali language to be the official language of Pakistan besides Urdu. After their sacrifice, Pakistan government had to accept Bangla as the second official language of Pakistan. Since then the day has been solemnly celebrated mainly by the student community of Dhaka University area as the ‘Language Movement Day”. Dhaka University area is like a city within a city spread over a large area of land. The area includes many educational institutions like Dhaka University, Medical College, Engineering University, Eden Girls College and Art College. All of these institutions have large campus with dormitories and living accommodations for students, teachers and other staff. Tens of thousands of students lived in these dormitories, commonly known as halls, in close proximity to each other. As a result, hot and popular issues could circulate within the student community grapevine in a very short time. The work for Shaheed Dibos or ‘Language Movement Day’ of 21 February actually started the previous evening with cleaning of the roads of the whole area and drawing of Alpona on all the roads to Shaheed Minar and on the road to Azimpur graveyard where the martyrs were buried. Alpona is a Bengali culture of abstract drawing with white rice paste. Women at home usually do it on the floor for social occasions. The students of Art College traditionally did the drawing on the road with white paint for the Shaheed Day. The decoration of the Shaheed Minar was done traditionally by the 4th year students of Medical College. The drawing and decorations had to be complete by night time and the streets would be ready for the barefoot procession. At day-break Students, mostly from the surrounding halls of Dhaka University, Medical College,
Engineering College, Eden Girls College, Dhaka College, teachers and many private citizens and representations of schools and colleges from other parts of Dhaka would gather carrying festoons and would join in the ‘Provat Ferry’ procession. “Provat Ferry” does not have an exact translation in English. The nearest meaning would be ‘The procession of homage at dawn’. Walking over the Alpona painted streets of Dhaka shaded by poplar trees in the misty light of dawn, the procession would be chanting a special song dedicated to the martyrs. Rest of the morning would be spent around the ‘Shaheed Minar’ viewing and purchasing different publications for the occasion, attending cultural functions at Bangla Academy and meeting friends. The overall atmosphere of the occasion was like a breeding ground for Bengali Nationalism. Every year the gathering increased as ex-students came back for the occasion on this day spontaneously, holding hands of their wives and children. The tradition became like a yearly pledge of love for Bengali language and Bengali culture. I always attended this nostalgic occasion during my student days in Dhaka and I intended to attend it this year. 21″ of February in 1971 was a Sunday. I quietly left the cantonment on Saturday evening and returned on Sunday after a hearty day in Dhaka. I was not missed anywhere.
Signs of Change When Awami League won the National election in 1970 with single majority, East Pakistanis were excited that the next Chief Executive of the country would be one of their men. But increasingly there were signs that Awami League would not be allowed to form the National Government. This agitated East Pakistanis. On the other hand there was a possibility that
20
depending on the ongoing negotiations Mujib could still be invited to form the National Government. This did not particularly please the West Pakistani officers in general. Even in the secluded world of cantonment the waves of the change of feeling did not fail to register. Mood in the cantonment started to change from early March with changes in the National political mood. The TV program controlled from Dhaka took a shift towards more typical Bengali programs from the standard programs of Pakistani orientation. Songs of Poet Rabindranath Tagore, who was previously a taboo in National media and the inspiring marching songs of Kazi Nazrul Islam, were more frequently broadcasted on TV. Activities of Mujib and other Awami League leaders were replacing traditional Pakistani news. The announcers stopped using the word ‘Pakistan and just mentioned ‘Dhaka Television Center’. West Pakistani officers gradually stopped coming for the TV News while the Bengali officers started coming in numbers. One day we found the TV shutter locked and the key could not be found. We had to break open the lock to watch the news. The lively evenings of the club as we knew were fast disappearing. West Pakistani officers started to avoid the club and families evaporated from the scenario altogether. The civilian population in Comilla stopped all communications with the Army. Local contractors stopped supplying food and ration to the Army. In a hastily called meeting of all the officers, Brigadier Iqbal Shafi tried to maintain his usual humor and explained the situation from military point of view. He also suggested, “If the civilians stop supplying food and vegetables to Army, then we would have to go and get it from them! After all, we can not go hungry, can we?” The officers present at the meeting enjoyed this remark and gave their endorsement with a hearty laugh. But I was not so sure if I enjoyed the brigadier’s remark as much as the rest of the officers did. Probably I was amused the other way round, that non-cooperation from local population could create quite a bit of inconvenience for the army. Apparently, business within the cantonment was as usual. Interpersonal relationship was normal on the surface. But the tension was growing. It became increasingly important to avoid a delicate issue when two persons from different wings of Pakistan would talk.

A Fight at Lunch

In Army Mess, there are some rules, like discussion about Religion, women or political issues was forbidden, in the dining room one could only speak to those sitting next to him. Only the senior most, sitting at the head of the table could speak to everybody. But these rules were not always followed. One day at lunch, Zahed Jamal a W. Pakistani officer was sitting next to the person beside me, and was talking on National politics, Mujibur Rahman in particular. Zahed seemed to be quite demoralized with the political scenario. At one point he said ‘Yes, whoever becomes the Prime Minister, we will have to salute him, may he be a dog or a jackass’. I could not resist myself to pass a remark, ‘Yes, that is very true but don’t you think we are used to it? Aren’t we doing it ever since?’ Zahed got furious and jumped out of his chair, I was watching and ready for him. But Maj. Hadi of 24 FF sitting between us calmed us down. Things were getting worse. Curfew was imposed in cantonment after dusk. One evening when Salahuddin and I were coming out of the club into the dark road, a soldier suddenly challenged pointing his gun at us. He did not seem very satisfied even after we said we were officers of Pakistan Army. He let us go rather reluctantly. After that our movement became restricted and I used to have my dinner brought by my Pathan Batman (Battalion man, meaning an aide for the officer to assist him keeping up his turn out, like getting the boots shined and getting the uniform pressed). A number of the officers from our unit went out to West Pakistan in a wave, on posting or for training. Mokhter Kamal Choudhury went to 2″ E. Bengal at Joydebpur, Dhaka, as RMO (Regimental Medical Officer), Moin went to 31 Punjab in Sylhet, and on 15th March 1971 I was posted as RMO to 4 East Bengal Regiment on temporary duty in Brahmanbaria.

Road to Brahmanbaria

When the large olive green army ambulance came to pick me up, there was no one else in our room. With Moin out on temporary duty and Farooq moved out in to a bungalow with his family, it was only Abul Hussain and I in the room for the last few days. Abul also had gone out somewhere so there was no one to bid me farewell during my departure. I packed my bedding and some essentials in a suitcase to set out for the journey leaving behind most of my belongings. Little did I know that it was going to be a one way trip. Brahmanbaria is to the north of Comilla Cantonment on the Comilla-Sylhet road. I was on this road for the first time. Driving at night in an army ambulance was also a new experience. The ambulance was spacious, with two no frill canvas seats in front one for the driver and the other for the copassenger. In between the two seats a passage led into the ambulance chamber with two lower bunks and two upper bunks like in a train compartment. The lower bunks could be used as beds. Ambulance driver Jahed Ali was a Bengali and not much of a talker. So we just drove on with our eyes glued to the empty road and darkness outside. We crossed the bridge into Brahmanbaria town at about 10:30 p.m. Shortly after the bridge a narrow strip of road led into the WAPDA (Water and Power Development Authority) enclosure where two companies of 4 East Bengal Regiment were stationed. Inside the barbed wire enclosure, there was a large pond on the left-hand side. We drove past the Inspection Bungalow on our right followed by a three-storied building with some flats for WAPDA employees. The road went round the pond to the left. This is where the tents started. We drove through and stopped in front of a tent.
Major Shafaat Jamil An officer came out from the tent and introduced himself as Major Shafaat Jamil. I saluted him and introduced myself. He gave me a warm handshake and came straight to the point, “What’s the news from the cantonment, what evil those haramjadas are scheming now?” Major Shafaat was a new experience for me, I never met a Major from Bengal Regiment before and I never heard anyone speaking out his mind so openly to a stranger. Most of the Bengali officers in the army were sensing a change of attitude in the Army towards Bengalis. With this came a growing sense of apprehension in each Bengali army personnel and a feeling of new identity within him, which was not compatible with the old order and philosophy of Pakistan Army. But it was never discussed except in private with a trusted few. Slightest exposure of discontent could lead to all kinds of trouble. And here was Major Shafaat, bold and friendly, a man of spirit who seems to have the resolve to fight back. Suddenly I could feel that it was a different world here in 4 East Bengal Regiment camp in Brahmanbaria. Far different from the oppressive and apprehensive atmosphere of Comilla cantonment. I was delighted, thank goodness, now I can at least think and speak freely. Thus with a peace of mind I went to sleep in my tent.

Life in a Tent

My tent was a 40 pounder. Sunlight filters through the double layered tent as the day progresses and it becomes almost impossible to sleep after dawn. I had some experience of tent life in my Scouting and UOTC (University Officers Training Corps) days. So I was not uncomfortable, rather I was enjoying it. It was more like a picnic to me. Breakfast was parata with eggs or vegetable curry and a large mug of excellent tea. Ordinary soldiers got puri and tea, which was also quite good. After breakfast, the sick report came. A table laid behind the ambulance served as a make shift MI Room (Medical Inspection Room). Medical assistant Gaznabi sat in the back compartment of the ambulance with it’s door opened and gave away medicines according to my prescriptions. There were some soldiers on sick report on my first morning in Brahmanbaria. Writing the first prescription I thought whether to write in English, as always done, or in Bangla. I had never written a prescription in Bangla before. Then I thought why not? Gaznabi would be able to read because he was a Bengali. But this could be noted as defiance if the superior authorities came to know. Somehow, I thought I should take the risk, and I prescribed in Bangla. After sick report, there wasn’t much else to do. I picked up a habit of going to the training area and joining an on-going class. On my first day in Brahmanbaria, Maj. Shafaat led me around and introduced me to the JCOs, troops and arms. He also ordered me to learn about all available weapons and their uses. As a doctor in the Army one usually gets some training on PT, parade, discipline and command. They are also introduced to arms and ammunitions briefly. But usually the doctors never get or need the elaborate arms training of infantry. I did not
25
have any training from Army either. But I learned fast because of my previous knowledge of weapons from civilian life and UOTC days. Among the weapons that I was introduced to, the most fascinating was the 105-mm RR (recoilless rifle). This was generally mounted on a jeep, extremely maneuverable and had enormous destructive power. It was actually a piece of artillery in infantry hands. 4 E. Bengal had all Chinese arms. Especially the SMG was a great weapon. It was the Chinese version of Russian AK-47, the most widely used and one of the best combat weapons in the world. Cheaper than American M-16 assault rifle, and it could take far more punishment. The training went on till lunch time. Lunch in E. Bengal Regiment was rice as staple with daal, sabji and one item of fish or meat. The daal was especially good. Officer’s food usually came from officer’s mess but when in smaller detachments where there is no officer’s mess, food came from ‘Longor’ (cookhouse) for other ranks.
———–
3. Daal is a kind of lentil soup that goes well with rice or chapati.
———–
Despair, Anger and groping for a Solution Working day is usually over with lunch. Only thing to do after lunch was relax in the tent with a book or go to Maj. Shafaat’s tent for chitchat and listen to the radio. So would Haroon or Kabir, whoever happened to be at the camp and there would be i mini meeting every day. Topic of the meeting would be the same; what was happening in the country. What was the progress of Mujib-Bhutto-Yahia talk in Dhaka. Whether Mujib and Awami League were giving proper fight. What was the intention of Pakistanis? There were rumours that troops and arms were coming to Dhaka everyday by C-130 transport planes. What was happening? What did BBC, VOA or AIR (All India Radio) say about the crisis. Bengalis served in Pakistan Army as faithfully as any other Pakistani like a Punjabi or a Pathan. Politics or political beliefs never had any influence on the integrity of a Bengali soldier’s loyalty to Pakistan. Also the basic structure of Pakistan army did not give any scope to promote regional feeling, be it Bangali or Beluch. Except for majority of infantry battalions being Beluch or Panjab or East Bengal or FF(frontier Forces), there were no other regional identities throughout the army structure. Officers posted into these infantry battalions and any other unit of Pakistan army could be from any part of Pakistan; effectively creating a pan Pakistan doctrine among all troops. To identify a Bengali group of soldiers with a regional political views or to identify a Pathan group of soldiers with any political view would be impossible in Pakistan army. But the current political deadlock, complicated atmosphere and unnerving symptoms forced even the most hardened Bengali soldier of Pakistani doctrine to seriously consider his own standing as a soldier of Pakistan Army. Political Scenario was worsening. An ominous shadow of uncertainty and inevitability was looming larger everyday. We got information that Machine Guns have been set up aiming at
4 East Bengal Barracks in Comilla Cantt. After a lifetime of serving in the Army together, friends from the other wing were becoming untrustworthy. The sense of “we” and “they” was fast crystallizing into “friend” and “enemy”. We were speculating, what would they do, and then what would we do. In other words, a clash was inevitable. In reality, in view of their relative strength, it could not be a clash; it would be more like a one sided pounding. Question was how much pounding would they dish out to us. And then what would the Bengal Regiments do. Or do the Pakistanis think that Bengali soldiers are going to watch silently without protest? Most probably the Pakistanis would break up the Bengal Regiments in small fragments and send them away from hot spots and prevent them from taking any action. On the other hand, the whole thing could be just a speculation, a fabrication of fantasy. But should we wait for their first move and leave the initiative to them? Or should we prepare our own course of action if we must act? Because once they have taken the initiative, we would be pinned to the wall. Suppose, an order comes to break up our unit in platoons, and send us off on duty to far and away places. Then we could be cut off from each other quite easily and be disarmed or whatever. That would be the end of our initiative and end of everything. We could imagine a lot of things, but what would be our action! If Pakistanis carry out something sinister, do we accept it without protest or what? 4 EBR was one of the five East Bengal Regiments stationed in East Pakistan in March 71. East Bengal Regiments, like any other regional battalions of Pakistan Army, had officers and men from all over Pakistan with majority of troops from that particular region. Each of these battalions were stationed at different locations under different brigades functioning just as any other infantry unit integrated within the fabric of Pakistan Army. Though we had this suddenly looming question in our minds, what we could do in the event of Pakistan Army onslaught of Bengalis; the possibility of making contact with Bengali officers and troops of other East Bengal Regiments did not even cross our mind. Nuch discussions were not possible even with troops and officers of one’s own battalion because one could never be sure that the person to contact might go straight to the authorities and report the incident to prove his loyalty. Yet, after all we are a trained and fighting fit part of the same army as much as they were, equally qualified for the business of war. Because of the manpower and fire power that we the Bengali soldiers had, with a careful planning we could make Pakistanis suffer heavy losses. Then for some time we would be at each other’s throats. After that, who knows what would happen? Probably we would die, but we would die with a satisfaction that we have made them pay a price and that we have not allowed them to get their way without a fight. Lt. Col. Reza was the CO of Azimpur recruiting office in Dhaka. Brahmanbaria was his hometown. One day he came to our camp in his white Herald Triumph car and joined in our chitchat. It was interesting to find the he had the same line of thinking as us. Only, he was more decided and more vocal about it. Lt. Col. Reza told us that Bengali Army officers in Dhaka were going through indecisiveness. Some of them went to see Col. Osmani, the would be Defense Minister of Awami League, to have some words of advice. But Osmani did not pay any importance to their apprehensions. He reportedly pointed his finger towards heaven and said, ‘I believe in God’. Some of the officers discussed if the main water tank of Dhaka Cantt. should be poisoned. But these wild ideas would not probably lead anywhere. There was no Bengali unit in Dhaka city. The nearest unit is 2 E. Bengal in Joydebpur. Among the other two East Bengal Regiments located east of Jamuna were 4 East Bengal in Comilla, now in Brahmanbaria and 8 E. Bengal in Chittagong. We keep discussing on what could be achieved by these troops. Lt. Colonel Reza advised us that when the time came, there would not be any signal from anywhere. We would have to find our own timings and do maximum damage to Pakistanis and try to capture the nearest cantonment and link up with other Bengali units. Long after the white Triumph with Lt. Col. Reza had left the camp leaving a trail of smoke behind, Major Shafaat, Haroon and myself sat there drowned in our own thoughts as the last rays of the setting sun gave way to approaching darkness. It was Major Shafaat who broke silence and raised the issue. The way, we have been hatching plots for the last few days, definitely the Pakistanis have come to know about it. So now it is just a matter of time before they come to get us. That means there is no turning back now. We must wait for the opportunity and right moment for the action. For the present, we pledged to secrecy.
30
The Lure of Fate

I don’t know how Major Shafaat or Haroon was feeling. But I was having a great time. After those long hours at the tea room of 40 Field Ambulance, it was a lucky break to be posted here in a Bengal Regiment at this crucial point of time with some likeminded Bengali officers, who accepted me so candidly from day one, and to have had this rare chance to be a part of a scheme. Altogether, my fate seemed to lure me into an unknown future and I am following it in a state of trance. It is a wonder how circumstances can mould a person in such a short time. Our pervious generation created Pakistan leaving behind India, centuries old homeland of their ancestors. We grew up in Pakistan as our Country. To be of some service to our country was our greatest desire. Not so many months ago I joined Pakistan Army with the same spirit, and yet today, within a span of days, the concept of Pakistan as ‘my country’ was melting away and the concept of Bangladesh was fast crystallizing into a serious alternative.

Bangladesh Flag 200 Lt. Kabir of 4 E. Bengal came to Brahmanbaria from Comilla on 20 March. He gave us some grim information that Machine Guns had been mounted covering 4 E. Bengal lines in Comilla Cantt. Atmosphere and tension in the cantonment was rising every day. On 22 March I called my friend Ashfaqus Samad in Dhaka. He was in Socialism at Dhaka University. I asked him ‘What is the news there?’ He excited said, ‘News is good, we are making acid bulbs.’ I was disgusted. And you expect to fight Pakistanis with acid bulbs?’ After a few more words I hung up the phone. The whole civilian population of the country including Dhaka seems to be in a state of euphoria and enthusiasm. They seem to be mentally prepared not to let any Pakistani wrongdoing go unchallenged. The younger generation has been preparing themselves for the fight to come by arming themselves with acid-bulbs and Molotov cocktails. The image of Pakistan Army in their minds were what we had seen in 1969 and other occasions when Army came in support of civil government with truck loads of soldiers patrolling the streets with a machine gun mounted up front, without using it. A Molotov cocktail or an acid bulb might be of limited use against such targets for a very short while. But I think it would take much more to face Pakistan Army. Last time in Comilla, I heard slogans like ‘Teishe march songsod hobe noile bangla swadhin hobe” meaning, *Parliament must be convened on 23″, or Bengal will be independent’. I thought I should go and see what was happening in Comilla. But outside camp was out of bounds. After a lot of persuasion I managed a day’s leave from Maj. Shafaat, in command of Brahmanbaria contingent in absence of Sadeq. I had to promise to be back by next day. Then in civilian clothes I took off. Next morning in Comilla town, it was a unique display. In the bright sunshine, every house had a Bangladesh flag flying from rooftop. The flag had a green background, a red circle in the center and on it a map of Bangladesh was drawn in bright yellow. This flag, popularized on 7″ March, has now spread to every home. I kept looking at the flags with fascination and amazement. So after all, the people had declared independence on their own initiative overtaking the political process. The market place was jubilant with a celebration mood. I returned to base in the afternoon. As soon as I reached my tent, Major Shafaat said ‘Sadeq has returned. Call him immediately. He is furious that you went to town’. So I called Major Sadeq on our field telephone “Slamalekum SIR “Akhtar! Where had you been? Why did you go out of the station? Don’t you know the situation outside? Where have you been to?” “Sir I went to Comilla town to my in-law’s place.” “Didn’t you go to the cantonment?” I was a little surprised, “No sir, I just went to the town!” “I see, OK” and he cut the line. Sadeq seemed satisfied that I did not go to the cantonment. He did not mind so much that I went out of the camp. That left me wondering why he was relieved that I did not go to the cantonment! What was wrong with the cantonment?

End of Dhaka Meeting On 24 March Maj. Shafaat, Haroon and myself were listening to radio as usual in Shafaat’s tent after lunch. The talk between Yahia, Mujib and Bhutto was seemed to go on endlessly without anything substantial coming off. We were worried that Mujib might loose his spirit and give in to Bhutto. We felt it was a question of our National prestige. There were all kinds of speculations on the progress of the talks. Then finally the talks broke off bringing down an end to all the speculations and apprehensions. We turned the radio off and sat there silently for a long time. Only Major Shafaat after a while said, almost as if talking to himself, “Mujib did not sell the country.” Yes, at heart we were all so delighted that the meeting ended inconclusively. It means it was a draw, it means Mujib did not give in. At heart we hailed him for that.

Convoy to Shamshernagar

That night Maj. Khaled passed through Brahmanbaria and went to Shamshernagar with A (Alpha) Company of 4 E. Bengal Regiment. Major Khaled Musharraf was a Bengali officer who had recently come back from West Germany after a course and joined 57 Brigade in Dhaka as Brigade Major. He was then relocated to 4 E. Bengal on 22 March as 2 1/C and was now hastily been sent off to Shamshernagar in Sylhet with A (Alpha) Company troops of 4 E. Bengal Regiment. His going was not easy. There had been barricades all the way. In Brahmanbaria, his convoy was stopped at a number of places. One spirited student leader called Humayun lied down on the road to stop the convoy. Major Khaled had to persuade him personally to allow the convoy to move on. It all happened at night, away from our campsite, on the main road. I did not have a chance to meet Maj. Khaled.

Posting Order

On 25″ of March, the remaining troops and officers of 4 E. Bengal Regiment other than one platoon came over to Brahmanbaria. The Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Khizir Hayat Khan, Capt. Matin, Capt. Gaffar and Lt. Amjad moved to Brahmanbaria with the battalion. Among these officers, the CO, Khizir Hayat Khan and Amjad were from West Pakistan. My friend and fellow physician from 40 Fd. Amb. Lieutenant Abul Hussain came with them with a posting order to replace me. Abul Hussain brought me a movement order dated 23 March. According to the movement order I was posted out to a place called “Tarar Khel’ in Azad Kashmir and I was to proceed for the destination. A movement order is a way of life in army. Activities evolve around posting orders. In this case I
saw the movement order but said nothing. Abul Hussain said, “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” I said, “I am not going”. I surprised Abul; He gave his usual laugh and said, “How can you say you are not going.” In Army nobody in his right mind with a movement order in hand says, “I am not going”. Normally I should have started packing and preparing to leave for West Pakistan but here and now I did not feel any concern. Somehow I knew that this posting order would not be effective. Besides, Abul Hussain did not know about the plans we had been making for the last few days. I just said, “See what happens”.

Disposition
Major Sadeq used to stay in the Inspection Bungalow or Rest House locally referred to as the Dak-Bungalow. CO also went to the DB. Amjad’s tent was pitched at the steps of DB, isolated from other officers and troops. Tents for rest of the officers were pitched at our campsite west of the pond. The camp area was almost full now, with tents of different shapes and sizes. Troops of Bravo, Charlie and Delta as well as HQ Company. From the clearing in front of officers tents, looking east we could see the pond in front of us at a distance of about fifty yards of grass land. On the left across the pond at 10 o’clock position, there were the Dak bungalow and office tents in front of the DB. At 7 o’clock position there was Charlie Company under command of Major Shafaat. HQ Company pitched its tents across the pond at 3 o’clock position. Bravo and Delta Company were located behind the HO Company on to the south of the pond.
35
The graveled road from entrance to the camp site, went along the pond, turned left at the corner to continue as a track between the pond on one side and the learing in front of officers tents on its right, crossed HQ Company tents on the left and led into training area further south.

The Uneasy Calm

On morning of 26″March, Dhaka radio center did not respond. Then someone with a very heavy non-Bengali accent announced in the radio that martial law has been imposed in the country. The announcer kept on reading out the martial law regulations. I felt dispirited and sad. Dhaka has probably been cut down to size by now. Our apprehension turned out to be true. Coming out of my tent into the yard, I heard that more of our troops were being dispersed. Even Maj. Shafaat had been ordered to move out to some place with Charlie Company to “Counter Naxalite activity’. That would be the end of everything. Morale was running very low among all officers. But everybody put on their uniform and went out on respective duties. I went towards the rest house. CO sat in the living room with a pen and paper noting down the martial law regulations, as crackling from radio. He welcomed me, “Come doctor, I am writing down the ML regulations, you see, we have to implement these.’ I was feeling glum and sat on the sofa quietly. After a while Major Sadeq Nawaz came out of his room. After CO completed his writing, we sat down for breakfast. We did not talk much, just pleasantries. Other officers were mostly avoiding coming here, of course all had respective duties elsewhere, but during normal times, there is a natural flow of conversation, high spirits, smiling faces, exchange of greetings and small talks. Everything was missing today.

Reasons are also a common knowledge. Tension of last few weeks, agitation among Bengalis, absence of regular program in radio since morning, imposition of Martial law, everything indicated that something very bad had happened in Dhaka, but nobody knew what. I finished my breakfast quietly and left the rest house. Outside, routine work was going on. There were two 180 pounder tents outside, serving as CO’s office. The third tent at a little distance was the signal center. It is manned 24 hours with west Pakistani personnel. So it would not be possible for us to get any information through wireless. On the other hand we will get weaker if troops are moved out by batches as already in process. Major Shafaat is trying to delay his move on some pretext but it can not be resisted for long.

Massacre at Dhaka

We did not have correct information on what had actually happened in Dhaka on the night of the 25h. Because we were so far away, telephone lines were gone, no rail or road communication and no radio or TV. Only means of communication was by Army wireless, but that too was always manned by West Pakistanis. By evening of 26″ March, reports of horror started filtering in. Some of the people, who fled Dhaka after 25″ night, reached Brahmanbaria. They reported that a massacre was let loose on 25″ midnight. Rajarbag police line, Pilkhana EPR lines, Some university halls including Rokya Hall, a women’s hostel, are among the worst hit. People have been wantonly killed on the streets, at the river terminal Sadarghat and everywhere. Sounds of firing and bombing continued through the night and people were fleeing town.

Problems of Changing the Order It was now confirmed that Pakistanis had let loose terror and devastation on people of East Pakistan. Pakistan Army has exposed itself as an occupation army, and now it would be morally wrong for any Bengali soldier to remain a part of this army any longer. Our time to react was here and now. But problem was that we had no idea how to do it, what to do and when the time would be right to do it. Whatever was going on in the country and in our minds, we were still in Pakistan Army uniform, taking Pakistan Army ration and pay, we were still an integral part of Pakistan Army in every sense of the word. Rebellion was an uncharted territory for us. In the business of Army, at first there is loyalty to the country and then there is the purpose of defending the country. Loyalty is implied as a part of existence of a subject. Defending the country is the basic function of army. Army function is executed through a chain of command. Training in army is all about carrying out orders through chain of command and discipline. Order is passed on from the highest authority through tiers down to the foot soldier. Discipline is rigorously imposed to control the might and fire power of the army both at collective and individual levels. Soldiers, meaning officers and other ranks alike, have no training to function in any other kind of order. There has never been any training program on how to execute a mutiny. Even if a mutiny or rebellion is successfully executed, there is no telling how the rebel troops would behave; there is no telling in which direction the troops would shoot. Changed environment like loss of known establishment, freedom with firearms and bullets, insecurity of life, uncertainty of pay, pension and food, is bound to create unpredictability. An unpredictable and direction-less bunch of mutinous armed soldiers could be the worst nightmare for any commander. Here we had a bunch of hardened soldiers doctrined and practiced from the dawn of life to serve Pakistan Army under its chain of command. And we were determined to change that order. By afternoon, everybody knew about the massacre in Dhaka and that people were running away from Dhaka in all directions. Our troops were getting restless. By evening everybody was discussing the subject in low voice. We were communicated by some of our trusted JCOs and NCOs that most of the ordinary soldiers had become very restless and they expected us to do something. Otherwise they themselves might start something. So it seemed that the troops wouldn’t be a problem, yet there was a formidable obstacle, Subeder Major Idris, the senior most JCO.
Subeder Major Idris In army, there is a Subeder Major (SM) in every battalion or large unit. He is the chief of Other Ranks. He would be the senior most of the JCOs in the unit serving for twenty eight to thirty years. They have a chest full of ribbons and decorations. The SM usually has twenty to thirty very trusted soldiers in the battalion who would do literally anything, at his order. The SM is well connected with the CO. To get a job done, the CO not only discusses the matter with the SM, but also takes his advice. Usually the CO and the SM serve in the same regiment for years and grow a relationship of understanding, bondage and loyalty beyond call of duty. We have this problem with our SM Idris; it was of no consequence that he is a Bengali. He spends most of his time with the CO and is serving him for many years. If a new equation comes into play, it would be very difficult to predict which way the Subeder Major would swing. In a mutiny situation, there would be no way to bypass him. Once we set something in motion, with which he does not agree, then anything could happen. If we take him into confidence and tell him that we are planning a coup, he might get upset and order his loyals to shoot us down or do something else about which we had no idea. We were not sure how to handle the SM. As the evening darkened, we sat on camp chairs in front of our tents, brooding over cups of tea. Finally we decided to send two of our trusted NCOs to SM to sound him out by giving him some hint of our intentions. The NCOs came back with positive response that SM agreed to cooperate with us. Then we saw SM with some of his trusted troops coming out of his tent towards us. We were alarmed and watched the approaching group closely. SM passed us up and kept walking towards the Rest House. It
40
meant that he was going to meet the CO. The meaning of his going to the CO at this moment was obvious. The faithful servant was going to inform the CO of our plans! It was almost a panic situation for us. We immediately put Charlie Company located behind us on alert. Some of the trusted few were put on sentry duty to foil any attempt by the SM or his men to shoot or arrest the officers. All other officers already had their weapons, only I, being a doctor had not been issued any weapon. So an SMG was arranged for me from somebody in the Charlie Company. In the semi darkness we sat there watching and trying to Fathom what was happening in the Rest House. Finally CO, Sadeq and SM came out from the Rest House and kept coming towards us. We tried to remain as composed as possible and waited. The group did not turn towards us, rather kept walking along the road towards the HQ Company and entered the SM’s office tent. After a short while they came out and walked back towards us. Our tension was at the breaking point. We had no idea what was going on. CO and SM with others walked back to the Rest House, but Sadeq turned towards us. I had a problem. I had no time to hide my newly acquired SMG anywhere as Sadeg was already very near. So I laid it on the grass by my side. Sadeq came and stood in front of us. “Please sir, take a seat”, someone said. A camp chair was brought and Sadeq sat down. “Hallo Shafaat, what’s the news, hope everything is okay!” “Yes sir, things are okay. But everybody is unhappy. Nobody knows what has happened in Dhaka. Worried about relations and friends”, Shafaat replied. Sadeq said, “That is true, but then you know, we are soldiers in uniform. We have to carry out orders, whatever happens.”

“Yes, that’s true”, Shafaat grumbled, “but still they do worry”. That was the end of conversation. Nobody else wanted to linger conversation with Sadeq. After a heavy silence, Sadeq stood up with a very glum face, “Okay Shafaat, see you”. We also stood up, “Okay Sir”. Shafaat said. Moonlight glinted on the gun metal of my SMG on the grass. Sadeq noticed the SMG by my side, but did not ask anything about it. Only said to Shafaat, “Dekhna yar Shafaat, Koi mutiny to nei hona chahi-e”, “Hope you will make sure Shafaat, that there is no mutiny’. Had we not been toying with the same idea ‘mutiny’, we probably would have taken Sadeq’s remark as a joke and there would have been a wave of laughter. But tonight no one said a thing. Only Maj. Shafaat said in an almost inaudible voice, “Nei Sir, kea mutiny…”, What are you talking about sir..’ Shafaat did not complete his sentence. Sadeq also did not seem to be expecting Shafaat to complete the sentence. He turned and walked away slowly towards the Rest House. A vigilant watch around the tents was established that night. The signal tent was never free of West Pakistani presence. But that night, the tent was momentarily available to communicate with Major Khaled in Shamshernagar. Reportedly he informed in Bengali, “I am coming”.
42
Book 2.
Going to War
The Rebellion

The morning of twenty seventh March started like any other. I put on my uniform and went to the Dak Bungalow for breakfast. A hint of spring still lingered in the morning air. Tips of grass were moistened with early morning dew. This Rest House was a stereotype. There was about ten feet of grass between the road and steps. During rainy season the grass went under water, so some bricks are permanently laid between the steps and the road to come down to the road without getting the feet wet. The main hall had a dining table with chairs on one side. On the other side there was a sofa set with a center table. The rest house had two bedrooms. Sadeq Nawaz occupied one and CO the other. A door from the living room lead to the cookhouse and other utility areas. Presently, an orderly lay breakfast on the table. CO was in white shirt and pajama. Sadeq was in white PT dress and Amjad was in uniform. CO sat at the head of dining table. Sadeq sat on his right. Next to Sadeq sat Amjad. Abul Hussain and myself were on the other side of the table. No one was feeling normal. On one hand so many Bengali soldiers at one place at a time like this was surely not a comforting thought for the West Pakistani Officers. On the other hand the unpredictable situation did not make our state of mind any better. It is only the training of discipline that is still keeping things normal on the surface. Among officers originally involved in our tent discussions,
Major Shafaat spent most of his time with troops in his Company area. Haroon and Kabir were mostly out on duty with troops. Capt. Matin was not involved in anything controversial. He mostly kept his thoughts to himself. Capt. Gaffar was doing Adjutant duty, running around most of the time. Only I had the time to meet the CO and Sadeq routinely at mealtimes. Breakfast was Parata with bhaji (a vegetable dish) and two eggs. Abul and I finished breakfast, excused ourselves, walked over to the living room area and sat down on the sofa. Sadeq was also finished but sat at the table to give company to CO. They were leaning towards each other discussing about something while CO was still on his second egg. CO and Sadeq’s Batman were moving about with freshly ironed uniform and shining boots. Messengers from HQ Company, JCO/NCOs were frequently coming in or going out of the room. The daily routine work began like any other day. It was exactly 9 o’clock when Major Shafaat entered the room. He was in full uniform with his beret cap slightly pulled down on the right side. He had his SMG held in his right hand pointing downwards. “Slamalaikum Sir!” he said as usual and walked down the dining table behind Amjad and Sadeq to reach CO. Shafaat slightly bent his head towards CO and said “Sir, there is some problem in the Delta Company. Please come with me.” All three at the dining table anxiously looked up at Maj. Shafaat. CO said “Yes, yes Shafaat, right away, let’s go.” He left his breakfast and stood up hastily. The three of them walked towards the door while Maj. Shafaat came over to me whispered something into my ear excitedly and started to leave. I couldn’t understand a word and asked in a puzzled voice, “What was that sir?”

He came back to my ear once again, “Get Sadeq’s sten” he said, and left instantly. His eyes looked bloodshot. Things were rolling at a fast pace. All of a sudden I was ordered to do something. I knew I had to do it fast, like an impulse, but couldn’t help giving it some thought. I was to take Sadeq’s sten gun. That was simple enough. I knew where it was. It would be leaning against the wall next to Sadeq’s bed in his room. The SMG would be loaded with a magazine full of 7.62 caliber bullets and the red point of the magazine would be showing. Under normal circumstances, I had no business handling Sadeq’s SMG either in his presence or absence. Now, the moment after Sadeq goes out of the house, if I enter his room and pick up his SMG, it will mean mutiny. Shafaat’s order could mean only one thing; the CO, Sadeq and Amjad that walked out of this room, will never come back. So Shafaat is going to declare mutiny! I didn’t know when and how. But declare he must or I am done for. As the senior most Bengali officer in the station, it was his job. But can he do it? He looked so excited and his eyes were red. What if his nerve fails him at the last moment? What do I do if the trio came back? With Sadeq’s sten in my hand I would have already declared my mutiny! There couldn’t be any answers to these questions. But the count down was on. Time would not stop for anyone. I had to face this moment of truth. I had a job to do. The next instant I was in Sadeq’s room. The SMG was where I knew it would be. The dark SMG with brown wooden handle had a number written on it, 117. To me it looked like a burning piece of coal. Yet I grabbed it. The bottom of the magazine showed the red point as expected. For a second I returned the SMG back in its place, then picked it up again. I put the safety catch off and came back to dining
45
room holding the sten at ready to shoot position. The CO’s Batman was standing there. He gave me an incredulous look with his mouth wide open and eyes bursting out. He knew I had no business with Sadeq’s sten. The Batman as well as others in the room could guess that something was in motion. The Batman or battalion man not only act as Help, they are also bodyguards for the master. This man had a 7.62-mm pistol in his open holster. If he shot me now it would be fully legitimate. Instead, they all stood frozen and let things take their own course. Perhaps because he was a Bengali, I did not expect any danger from the Batman. But in any case, I had no turning back. I walked passed him towards the open door. Shafaat was already on the road standing sideways with his SMG pointing at the ground waiting for the party of the three to reach the road. CO on the last block of bricks and would reach the road on his next step, Sadeq was two bricks behind him, and Amjad was next to Sadeq. Kabir was standing about fifteen feet away with his SMG pointing at the ground. Suddenly Sadeq said, “Wait a second Shafaat, let me get my sten,” and half-turned to return to the rest house. Now what do I do? Sadeq is coming back, in three steps he will be near me where I am standing with his SMG in my hand pointing at their general direction. What should I do now? Should I point the gun at him? Shoot him? What? Why is Shafaat waiting? Why is he not saying anything yet? I felt I was waiting for an eternity to hear something from Shafaat. But it all happened within a second. Even before Sadeq could turn fully, a sound like rolling thunder came from Shafaat’s voice, “Sir”! That was all we were waiting for. I cocked the SMG and put it on automatic fire position. Everybody remained frozen. Sadeq in his half-turned position, CO in his tracks, Amjad, Kabir, myself and everybody else around us. As if time itself stood still to listen to what Shafaat had to say. In pin drop silence, Shafaat’s voice rolled on “Pakistan Army is killing like genocide in this country. We Bengali soldiers can not accept this any longer. Therefore I as the senior most Bengali officer am taking over command of this battalion. Your life and security will be my personal responsibility. Please follow me. The order changed. As of this moment all the troops of 4 East Bengal Regiment in Brahmanbaria are under command of Major Shafaat. Lt. Col. Khizir Hayat Khan who had been the CO of this battalion until a moment ago is already history. He will never be back to finish his breakfast. Sadeq will not be back to get his SMG. The three prisoners followed Shafaat towards CO’s tent. Kabir cocked his SMG before closing in. I came down the steps to the tent.

After Effect

Up to this point everything else had remained silent. Then a white bearded Bengali, who had probably been watching the whole thing from the residential building next door, came out with a bandoleer across his chest and a double barrel shotgun in his hand. He came out, jubilantly jumping and chanted ‘Joi Bangla’, and kept shooting at the sky like in a war dance. This scene brought everybody back from their trance to reality. The sense that something has been achieved sank in everybody’s mind like a spark. Everything changed from that moment on. Some of the soldiers dragged the West Pakistani Signalman into CO’s tent. Joi Bangla’ was heard from soldiers in all directions. Then we saw the civilians appearing all around us shouting ‘Joi Bangla’. Some soldiers on the other side of the pond fired shots in to the sky in excitement. Shafaat Jamil shouted in their general direction ‘Oi shalader bolo ektao guli baje khoroch na korte’. Meaning “Tell those idiots not to waste a single bullet’. In the tent, seeing the fate of the Signalman and seeing that the aggressive civilians pouring in from all directions, Sadeq called me aside and said in a miserable voice, “Look doctor, all my life I have been with Bengal Regiment. Now if I have to die, let me die in the hands of Bengal Regiment. Please don’t give me to the civilians. I assured him “No sir, we will see to it.” CO raised his face and just said, “Mera Quoran Sharif tho la dena.” Somebody please bring me my Quoran Sharif. told Abul to bring it. Abul shook his head and said, “You go”. So I went and brought the small Quoran Sharif from CO’s room and gave it to him. CO brought out his reading glasses from his pocket and started reading, oblivious of everything that was happening around him.

“The Resurrection’ I needed a bit of fresh air, may be a cigarette, and a little time to think about what had just happened. So I left the flow of events at that, and went towards my tent. The boys from Charlie Company were loading their rifles or packing their belongings to move out as soon as possible. They waved at me and chanted ‘Joi Bangla’. I returned their greeting and chanted ‘Joi Bangla’. But I could not hear what I said. The slogan got stuck somewhere in my throat. After a lifetime of Pakistan zindabad’, the first ‘Joi Bangla’ did not come out easily. Then on second try, doing away with
the two hundred years of slavery, I managed to say ‘Joi Bangla’. Finally when the slogan did come out, it was loud and sounded wonderful. The sheer pleasure of being able to chant this slogan at the top of my voice had a magical effect on me. It was like coming home after a lifetime of wondering. It raised me to the height of ecstasy. I was overwhelmed with emotion so much that I had to hug a half-dead tree by the roadside and wept convulsively.The Transformation According to our planning of last two weeks, we should now march to Dhaka or Comilla. In our tent meeting Lt. Col. Reza had said, ‘When time comes, You should take over Comilla, 8 Bengal should take Chittagong and 2 Bengal should march towards Dhaka. Don’t wait for any signal. You must decide your own timings’. I do not know, whether any military strategy or planning reflected in what he said. But he said it with a lot of sincerity. Personally I was in military uniform since only a few months. And I was a medical officer, not an infantryman. I reached here through learning the profession of medicine. My job was more with a stethoscope than with a sten. But here I was inspired from my inner self to join these officers and troops of Bengal Regiment in history making. I never felt myself to be any different from them and today how easily I set sail with them in uncharted waters without any remorse. I chose to respond to the invitation of death instead of following an established career. All these troops have just disposed off their life long career like a torn piece of paper without the slightest remorse. They responded to the call of motherland and did the needful. Not in expectation of any personal gain, rather knowing fully well that death now is a matter of time. Our motherland is sure proud to have borne so many worthy sons. Yet we did not feel any particular pride of having achieved something. Rather everything seemed to be a natural flow of events, as natural as having a cup of tea at breakfast. Our plan was to march to Comilla or Dhaka, marching at night and hideout at daytime. Then we attack Pakistan army, wherever we get them and kill as many of them as we possibly can, take our revenge and then we wouldn’t care whether we die or live.
50
From Major Shafaat Jamil to the junior most soldier of the unit, we were all having similar thoughts and were prepared for the consequence. Cutting the Umbilical Cord The front portion of the rest house was fully crowded when I returned. The whole town seemed to have come here to join in at the party. Dislike for West Pakistanis was clearly visible. Everybody wanted to have a look at the arrested officers. Some even tried to touch them, probably to fathom why they were so different from us or why they hated us so much. So we had to cordon off the tent to prevent any civilian from entering. Inside the tent, Lt. Col. Khizir looked old; he was reading the holy book. Sadeq looked spent and defunct. Amjad was whimpering. Subeder Major Idris, who had been one of our major concerns before our take-over, wanted to take the CO to the troops area, for whatever reasons. Major Shafaat sternly refused his request. Subeder Major Idris then sat on a stool beside the CO with a very sad face and head bent down. He looked like a sorry servant who had broken a trust. It was one thing for the SM to join the rebellion against Pakistan Army on popular demand, but quite another to betray a personal trust between him and the CO. Even though the CO was a Punjabi and SM was a Bengali, SM could not give away his life long master and benefactor into oblivion without having a guilty conscience. These are some matters of human feelings and personal loyalities beyond patriotism or call of duty. We all silently approved it. But we were also mildly surprised at the show of feelings in SM of all the people. Normally the SM did not seem so human4 . We decided to transfer the prisoners to the local police for safekeeping as it was getting impossible to keep the civilians at bay from coming in to the tent. I was ordered to do the job. I took the prisoners in a jeep and sat on the bonnet of the jeep with the SMG in my hand to disperse the crowd. I took them through the crowded streets to the police station where they had a secured area. I handed over the three prisoners to the sub divisional police officer with instructions from Shafaat that maximum security must be ensured for their safekeeping.
Awami League and Sachchu Bhai On return from police station I saw a group of people at the entrance sentry post of our camp. A revolt of Bengal Regiment against Pakistan Army does not happen everyday. Many people came to give their moral support on what we had done. They were all excited at the unexpected turn of events and chanted ‘Joi Bangla’ like the rest of the town people. A gentleman from the group was by the name of ‘Sachchu Bhai who was the local Awami league leader. Normally Army is not involved in country politics and political parties. But times were different. We had just taken a decision to fight back Pakistan Army. That put us on the same side as Awami league, since Awami League was leading the on-going nation-wide political struggle against Pakistani oppression. I asked Sachchu Bhai if there were any instructions for us from Awami league high command as to what to do now and what
4. Subeder Major Idris remained the seniormost JCO in 4 EBR, and later
in Sector 2 and again back to 4 EBR. He retired from Bangladesh
Army as an honourery captain. 5. Sacchu bhai, or Lutful Hai Sacchu was an Awami League leader in
Brahmanbaria. He died in November 2010.
are the plans for armed resistance. Nachchu Bhai was perplexed and confused by my question. He seemed to be just another excited civilian who came to see what was happening at the Bengal Regiment camp like a dream come true. Sachchu Bhai shook his head from side to side helplessly and said, “No, I have no idea if there is any such plan and I don’t have any instructions as such. You have to decide for yourself whatever you want to do now.” Well, it was just a thought to ask him. If he or his party Awami League did not have any instructions for the revolting army, then naturally we would have to follow whatever course of action we had planned to execute. And that would be marching towards Dhaka to attack Pakistan Army or may be to attack Comilla Cantonment. Whichever Major Khaled decides to do when he takes over 4 EBR from Major Shafaat after he reaches Brahmanbaria. Major Khaled had started from Shamshernagar early in the morning. But right now we had to decamp as soon as possible because Pakistan Army would be alerted about our defection and consequently they could start an air attack on our campsite any moment. I came back to my tent to pack up. My Batman was nowhere to be seen. At last I located him in the Charlie Company; all ready and set to march. He did not seem very eager to continue his service as my Batman. So I let him go. But I requested him to put my luggage in the Ambulance.
Plight of Bengal regiments I went out to the town again, this time to meet the SDO (Sub Divisional Officer), the administrative chief of the Sub Division of Brahmanbaria, Mr. Rakibuddin, a Bengali civil servant. He was in his office, talking in the telephone, trying to bring back some order in the city. On my way back, near WAPDA I heard Major Khaled
Musharraf has returned from Shamshernagar with Alpha Company. He has gone to the Bridge area at the city limits. Major Shafaat is also there. I went there to meet them. It was midday. At this point It should be noted that when Pakistan declared marshal law on 26″ of March 1971, the three battalions 2 East Bengal in Joidevpur, Dhaka, 4 East Bengal in Brahmanbaria and 8 East Bengal in Chittagong separately and independently rebelled from Pakistan army and escaped Massacare from the hands of fellow Pakistani army units and came together on 4″ April in Taliapara in Sylhet. They formed the nucleas of Bangladesh armed forces. 1 East Bengal regiment in Jessore and 3 East Bengal in Rangpur were not so lucky. The Pakistanis were able to decimate these two battalion to an ineffective fighting force. These two battalions had to be raised afresh within Bangladesh army during the course of Liberation war in 1971.

The ‘Alpha’ company of 4 EBR It was midnight 26 March 1971. Alpha company troops of 4 East Bengal Regiment were returning from Shamsernagar. The soldiers were dosing off their exhaustion of sleepless nights. 48 hours ago on 24 March they had gone by this road as a part of 53 infantry brigade under 14h Division of Pakistan army with an assignment. They had done duty all through army life on various assignments across East and West Pakistan. They always finished their assignment before returning to base. There has never been an exception. But this time it was different. Two days ago when the troops were ordered to move out, the troops were reluctant. They did not want to be away from rest of the battalion during these uncertain times. In the cantonment they had seen machine guns being set up on hilltops pointing at 4 EBR barracks. Motive of Pakistan army
could not be trusted any more. All the West Pakistani Families had been removed to West Pakistan. A sinister feeling prevailed in the cantonment. As if everybody was waiting for something to happen. Though normal daily routine work went on and discipline was intact. Orders were obeyed and they went out on duty. Now the troops were coming back in violation. Such violations are unthinkable in a disciplined army. Punishment for violating an order could be death penalty in a firing squad for officers and soldiers alike. The officers and soldiers in that convoy knew it. But they appeared to be jovial and in full spirit. As if for the last two days they were under severe strain and now after defying orders from Pakistan army to stay put in Shemshernagar, they were immensely relieved. A Bangladeshi flag was hoisted in the front of the convoy. The professional troops of Pakistan army have assumed a new identity “Bangladeshi”.
Who is Khaled Musharraf
In 1964 Khaled Musharraf, then a budding captain in the SSG (Special Services Group) opted for East Bengal Regiment and was posted to 4 East Bengal. He later became an Instructor in the Pakistan Military Academy in Kakul. Only the best officers had that previlage of being posted as instructor in military academies. Khaled was later sent to West Germany for a Company Commander’s course; an indication that he was going up the ladder in military hiararchy. On return from Germany in early 1971 Major Khaled was posted to 22 Brigade in Dhaka as Brigade Major. On March 22 Khaled was posted back to 4 EBR. There he assumed the post of 2 1/C. The CO of 4 East Bengal Regiment Lt. Col Khizir Hayat Khan was a seasoned Punjabi officer serving in the Bengal regiment
55
for a long time. He did not want Khaled around during these uncertain times. Rather the Punjabi Major Sadeq Nawaz, who was 2 i/c before Khaled was more desirable to Khizir. So he ordered Khaled to go to Shamshernagar with ‘A’ company to chase Naxalites, a pretext, perhaps. Khaled tried to argue that as the newly posted 2 I/C, it would make more sense if he remained with the main body of the regiment getting to know the troops. But Lt. Col Khizir would not have it any other way. So Khaled had to agree to go to Shamshernagar. Khaled however insisted on taking the maximum quantity of arms and ammunitions just in case this became a long drawn engagement. Khizir did not put any objection to it. He was happy to get rid of Khaled and a company of Bengali troops out of sight. His strategy was to break up 4 East Bengal regiment into fragments. Shamshernagar in Sylhet district was a considerable distance from Comilla or Brahmanbaria. Bravo and Charlie Company of 4 EBR were doing temporary duty in Bramhanbaria since early February. On 23 March remaining elements of 4 EBR including Headquarter Company also moved to Bramhanbaria. Only one platoon remained in Comilla on temporary duty in a place called Jangalia. On 24 March Khaled led Alpha Company to Shamshernagar. It was a middle order township. Local people on the way were keenly observing movements of troops. Normally general public never cared about troops movement, but at that time momentum of Bengali Nationalism was boiling over across East Pakistan. When Bengal regiments were sent out somewhere on any errand, people started stopping them across the country expecting the ethnic Bengali soldiers to refrain from doing any duty which might deter the political process. By the time Khaled reached Bramhanbaria it was evening. People stopped Khaled and Alpha company troops when they were passing through. Many of the picketers including a student leader Humayun lied down on the street and blocked the road. Khaled had to come down from the convoy and pacify the excited people that the troops will not get involved in any anti-people activity. Then the picketers allowed the troops to go on. Khaled with his troops reached Shamshernagar very early on the 25 of March. But he could not detect any naxalite activity. Rather he met an odd contingent from 31 Punjab in the vicinity far away from their base station in Sylhet. This was surprising because Khaled was not briefed about any troops from other units in that area. When he asked the Punjabi captain as to what were they doing there, the captain seemed not to be telling quite everything. The captain also had his firearm by his side all the time. The only plausible reason for the presence of Punjab regiment troops could be to disarm the unsuspecting EBR troops. The captain wanted to leave the area in a hurry. Khaled had to let him go in peace because they were still under the same flag serving the same Pakistan army. The 22 days without Political Leadership
To instigate Rebellion in the armed forces was not an Awami League strategy to achieve political power in Pakistan. Till election their political movement was in conformity with the constitution. After election when the government played delaying tactics to hand over power, the reaction and agitations across East Pakistan went beyond constitutional norm. From 23 March civil disobedience movement went out of control. But armed struggle was not in the cards of Awami League strategy. Bengal regiments, just like any other army unit were kept out of political influence. From 25th March Pakistan army unleashed “Operation Searchlight’ in Dhaka and elsewhere under marshall law and started merciless wanton killing of civil Bengali population. In the meantime the whole Awami League leadership melted away from Dhaka. As a contrast to the jubilient early March days, a political void fell upon the country. The stalwarts went underground and left Dhaka in a hurry. Pakistan Army on the night of 25 March arrested the Awami League leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and took him under custody. Khaled’s Gambit On 26 March 1971 there was no organized force in the country to respond to or resist the brutal action of Pakistan army. The agony of hopelessness facing Pakistani atrocities was felt individually by everybody at heart. But without any organized force, there was no way to put up any resistance or to organize a response. Political leadership melted away and evaporated with 25 March night surrender of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman to Pakistan army. The next day Mujibar Rahman was taken to West Pakistan and put in a jail. He stayed in jail for the whole length of Liberation war period. To organize some kind of armed resistance to the Pakistan army onslaught became essential to boost up morale of the mass but it was an impossible task in the absence of political leadership and after the liquidation of EPR HQ at Pilkhana and Rajarbagh Police line, the only two organizations with Bengali men with arms. There were no other visible Bengali men in arms in any other outfits capable of responding to the call of time. This led to a dark frustration. A sense of utter hopelessness creeped up over the country’s population as if this was the end of everything. The few Bengal regiment enlisted men in army, an insignificant number of men of arms spread across the whole of Pakistan were not expected to organize themselves and come forward to give leadership to the million Bengalis. Rather the country half expected the Bengali soldiers to fall prey to Pakistan army manuvers and tricks like 1″ Bengal in Jessore and 3″” Bengal in Rangpur. In Pakistan army, the troops of Bengal regiments, starting from 1′ EBR to 8 EBR became Famous as the dutiful and hardy soldiers of Pakistan army for all seasons. In personal life these Bengali troops in different cantonments in West or East Pakistan, lived a peaceful, disciplined and non-political life. Their children went to Pakistani schools, learnt lessons along with other children of different ethnic origins. They never had political hot topics boiling over which is so common in civil life. A sudden change in the political equation in the country is likely to have some effect in the hearts and minds of these troops. Nobody could tell for sure what exactly. Even though Political leadership abandaned the countrymen high and dry after 25 March, “Hope” lived on in People’s minds against all odds. Some hard and determined men existed among officers and among most of the Bengali troops with resolve to fight Pakistan army and carried the mantle of hope for the Nation during the dark days after 25 March when all leadership vanished.

In Shamshernagar camp on 26 March 1971 the troops of Alpha Company of 4 East Bengal Regiment had their dinner at 1800 hours and went to rest. In the officers mess Major Khaled and 2 Lt. Mahboob sat around a table with a petromax light illuminating the room. Khaled was in deep thought. The fast unfolding sequence of events disturbed him. During his time in
million Bengalis. It was a hard choice. On one side was a confirmed bright career in Pakistan army and a good life, on the other side, a bunch of rebelled Bengali soldiers; without pay and ration half of them might desert in one week and for the other half life expectancy could be measured in weeks if not days. Khaled knew if he fails to take the initiative then any of his further actions may become irrelevant. On 26 March night in cool brain Khaled revolted from Pakistan Army in favour of Independence of Bangladesh. He gave marching order to the troops and arranged a Bangladesh flag to be hoisted in front of the convoy. After his defection Major Khaled Musharraf was in limbo. He did not belong to Pakistan Army any more; he had burnt that boat behind while Bangladesh remained a distant dream. To transform the dream into reality was a long way to go. Khaled knew he had to take the right decisions and take right course of actions to be able to lead the countrymen out of the current misary. Spotting Teliapara Taliapara is a tea estate in Sylhet. Railway has a halt station in Taliapara. A patch of land with tea plantation in some parts, rest was forestland with pockets of open ground. Wild boars and turkey fowls are abundant in the forest. It is a typical tea garden like many others in the locality. But Taliapara attracted attention of Major Khaled when he spotted it on the map. Teliapara had some features he was looking for. The place is adjacent to the main road to Sylhet. With limited access routes, the place could be defended for a long time. Along the eastern boundary of the wilderness there was a small creek. On the
62

other side of the creek was India, with potentials to open up new lines of communication. When under heavy pressure and in a desperate situation there would be escape routes for troops to fight another day. On the way back from Shamshernagar with Alpha Company troops, Major Khaled Musharraf carmarked Taliapara in his mental framework as an ideal retreat for defecting Bengali soldiers and as a potential training ground. Alpha company of 4 East Bengal reached Brahmanbaria at about midday. On the C&B road, Khaled sat in an open jeep under the bright sun. He was wearing the deep Green Beret of Bengal regiment tilted sideways. His long hair was showing under the back of the cap, which is quite unusual for a regular officer. He was a handsome man with a bright and smiling face. Self-confidence was radiating from his whole existence. We have just put behind us a full-scale rebellion. Now all the responsibility rested on his shoulders, yet he did not show any sign of strain. With his head tilted slightly backwards, he was talking in the most relaxed manner. Major Shafaat introduced me to Major Khaled with a word or two of commandation on whatever humble part I had to play in the changing of order. Maj. Khaled gave me a warm handshake. He patted on my back and said, “Lieutenant Akhtar, I promote you to Captain Akhtar from today”. He said that with a very happy and smiling face, looking at me all the time. “Thank you Sir’, I said. As a field commander he could do that. From then on I became Capt. Akhtar.

At the Bridge, Khaled announced that a meeting would be held at Titas Gas rest house at 3 p.m. All officers and Junior Commissioned Officers were to attend. 2nd Lt. Mahboob was driving Khaled’s jeep. He was wearing a camouflaged helmet with the straps hanging loose from sides. Mahboob happened to be a classmate of my younger brother Mushtaque in Pakistan Air Force pre-cadet school in Sargoda, as it came out from conversation with him. Mahboob later gave me the account of their two day journey to Shamshernagar. Meeting at Titas Many of us thought Major Khaled would give us some briefing, and then would order us to march towards Comilla or towards Dhaka. Everybody was prepared for the march with all packings complete and everybody put their belongings on trucks. I did not find my newly appointed batman anywhere. Later I found him in his unit. He was reluctant to come back to serve me any further. Marching with other fellow soldiers was more preferable to him. I let him go at that and rolled up my own luggage and went for the meeting. The conference hall of the rest house was more like a lecture room. The chairs had attached tables. There was a separate table for the speaker facing others. The JCOs and senior NCOs took their seats, officers sat on both sides of the speaker. Khaled took the speaker’s stand at 3 p.m.

In the meeting at Titas Gas rest house, we came in full battle dress complete with the helmet strapped under the jaw, ready for action. Excitement was at its peak. Some of the senior JCOS could not even sit still, they kept standing up every now and then waiting for the word go. One JCO fainted from excitement, and some others had high temperatures. Major Khaled in his speech first congratulated us for successfully pulling off the rebellion. Then he discussed the total situation of the country and said, “Pakistanis have already had 48 hours since their first initiative. By now they have occupied the strategic objectives and got organized. Time for us to attack them is over. If we go for attack now, then we may be able to kill some Pakistani soldiers but we wouldn’t be able to win the war. Our number is very limited. Arms and ammunitions are limited to whatever we have with us today. There may not be any fresh supplies within the foreseeable future. We have no valid information on what has happened in Dhaka, Comilla or Chittagong. Information of our revolt in Brahmanbaria must have reached Pakistan Army. They are bound to attack this place very soon. As in this country we are only a handful of trained army personnel; life of each one of us is now very valuable for the country. We must preserve ourselves if we want to free our country one-day. Therefore our only available option now is to retreat. I have spotted some remote corners in Sylhet that we can secure and defend with our existing strength. There, we will take refuge, have training centers, and recruit new soldiers and gain strength. Then one day when we are strong enough, we will go for attack, in stages. We will also try to contact India from there. It will be relatively easy, as the area I am talking about is adjacent to India. From there we will take further measures as the situation develops.” I was dismayed to hear what he had to say. We got ready and prepared ourselves for the big fight, and now Khaled says, no fight! Some JCOs were still under the spell of rebellion. One JCO

65
stood up and with permission started to speak heatedly, “Sir, Pakistan Army has killed our people, insulted our women, we can not let them go. We want to attack them.” There was affirmative grumble to his call from all around. But Khaled could not be moved from his resolve. He had a ready reply for the JCO for the benefit of all others who nurchured similar opinions. “Subeder sub”, he said, “your life is very important for the country right now. You may choose to die if you like, but what will happen to the country? On the other hand if you live today, tomorrow you will train ten more fighters. To war you will go all right, but not today. Now is the time to train for guerrilla warfare and gain strength.” I was surprised to see that everybody accepted Khaled’s words, though with some grumbling. With this outcome of events Major Shafaat did not look very happy either. But he did not argue. I asked Khaled at this point, “Sir, how long might we need to get prepared?” “Three months; six months; May be a year, who knows, Khaled said. One year! I really felt very depressed. I couldn’t even care to think that far away. Here and now I am alive, my blood is warm, I am craving for fight now, whatever the outcome may be. Who knows if I would be alive after one year, I can’t see that far. Even if I was alive then, where would I be, who knows how things would shape in such a long time. I couldn’t think any further and remained seated very glumly as if Khaled had thrown a bucket of cold water on my red-hot spirit and turned it into wet charcoal. Whereas, if we could go to war today, it would make things so much easier. Then first of all there would be full ego satisfaction and it would quench the thirst for vengeance against Pakistan army for the atrocities
——–
6. In the subcontinent the JCOs are generally addressed by commissioned officers as “Subeder sub”, meaning Mr. Subeder.
———-
they had unleashed on 25 March. There would be no looking back, only swift and merciless decisive actions for which our blood boiled. But no one made any objection to Khaled’s decision. Probably everybody in his own way tried to adjust with the new reality. This is one great advantage in Army. There is no scope of argument on decision. Whatever decision is passed on down the pecking order, soldiers are programmed to accept it. The immediate achievement of Khaled’s decision was that a mutinous army battalion came back into army discipline instead of turning into a mob.?
———–
7. Because of Khaled’s decision not to draw and engage Pakistan Army in a frontal attack, 4 East Bengal Regiment was saved from extinction, and it would play a crucial role in the ensuing Liberation War. Khaled foresaw a David in the new born liberation movement, which would one day defeat the Pakistan Army Goliath. He himself had faith in the freedom movement and in it’s potential. He had the capability to make his fellow officers and troops accept in what he believed. Some decisions of Khaled Musharraf in this meeting would have far reaching effects. Priority of logical thinking over emotion. The decision, not to go for a head on collision against Pakistan Army at this stage, provided the liberation movement with two battalions of professional soldiers (as 2 EBR from Joydebpur would soon join us on Khaled’s call) border. We could match Pakistani troops on a man to man basis. It is to be noted that 4 EBR and 2 EBR were the only intact battalions to form the core of the Liberation Army. Decision to establish a sustainable safe area adjacent to India. Khaled made necessary plans to protect and nurture the newborn liberation war to grow and survive its infancy on its home ground. Which would give Bangladesh Army the opportunity to organize and regroup itself and negotiate for Indian assistance from a position of dignity and strength rather as refugees in India being completely at Indian Mercy.
——–
Border Security Force
Nobody seemed to worry about ration, pay, family and leave yet. But ammunition was a major concern. A smuggler volunteered to take samples of 7.62 bullets to the Indians across the border to B.S.F. (Border Security Force of India) to find out if they used any bullet of this size. Enemy of an enemy is a friend, we thought this should work here. The smuggler came back with some .303 bullets wrapped in his handkerchief, ‘This is what they have got’, he said. These bullets wouldn’t be of any use to us. But it was implied that we may get support from India if need be. Capt. Ainuddin arrived from Comilla on a motor bike in the late afternoon of 27″ March.
Voice of Major Ziaur Rahman Major Khaled ordered signalmen to try to broadcast the news of our revolt on the air through our wireless sets. The signalmen were on this job whole day. The long day was coming to an end. We imposed black out in the city, so there was no electric light. The town’s people returned home for the day. The road became clear. We were resting a while by the side of the main road, which was still hot from daylong sun. Only sound was from wireless sets. Over the static and whines we heard a voice speaking out in Bengali. Some said this was the voice of Major Ziaur Rahman. The sound was not very clear, but we could make out what he was saying. Major Zia had rebelled with his troops in Chittagong and made the broadcast from Chittagong radio station. That was good news. We were still unaware of what was happening with 2 East Bengal Regiment in Joydebpur, Dhaka.
The Training Company
On 28th March we announced to the towns people that we would be recruiting for Liberation forces. I was assigned to organize the training company. Priorities were given to recruit ex-servicemen and personnel from para-military forces. Volunteers came in hundreds. Soon the number crossed two hundred and kept rising as the day progressed. We marched them double file through the main road. The column was so long that one end of the column could not be seen from the other. In the evening, the training company was placed for defense duty at the north east corner of the city. I spent the night with them at the defense.
Message to Safiullah On 29th March, Major Khaled sent Lt. Mahboob with a message to Major Shafiullah of 2 Bengal Regiment in Joydebpur area. In the message Major Khaled asked Major Shafiullah to come over with his troops and join forces with 4 E. Bengal Regiment in the liberated area of Teliapara. Reportedly Mahboob reached Major Shafiullah at Kishoreganj on 31 March. Major Shafiullah had already taken over command of 2 E. Bengal Regiment at Joydebpur and moved on to Kishoreganj. Units of Police and EPR in the vicinity had joined forces with 2 EBR. Major Shafiullah overheard Pak army wireless communications that reinforcements were underway from Dhaka to outlying areas. To deny Pak army of such movements Shafiullah decided to coordinate a full scale attack on Dhaka from all directions. To this end a trainload of troops of 2 East Bengal were being dispatched to the forward area and another Company was advancing to Dhaka on the Norsingdi-Dhaka axis when Lt. Mahboob reached Kishoreganj railway station and handed over Khaled’s letter to Major Shafiullah.
Receiving Major Khaled’s message, Shafiullah halted his attack on Dhaka already in motion and came to Brahmanbaria to discuss strategy with Khaled. When he reached Brambhonbaria, Khaled had already gone to Teliapara with the main body of the 4 EBR. Maj. Shafaat was holding fort with remaining troops of 4 East Bengal. Shafaat met Shafiullah and briefed him on the details of Khaled’s plan which was to retreat to Teliapara and form a stronghold there. Shafiullah agreed and accepted the plan. He then called off his attack on Pakistan Army in Dhaka and ordered his troops to fall back to the safe haven at Teliapara. To think about sending this message to Major Shafiullah and to convince him to join forces with 4 EBR was another one of Major Khaled’s gambit in the formation of the liberation war. This historical decision would shape the course of the liberation war. Because of this initiative, there were now two fully equipped battalions of Bengali troops with other paramilitary forces to form the nucleus of Liberation Army at a safe haven in liberated territory. Also because of this message, the officers and troops of 2 East Bengal Regiment were saved from the likely fate of being wiped off if they fully engaged Pakistan Army as already in progress. Consequently all the officers of 2 EBR lived through the liberation war. All of them except one became Generals in Bangladesh Army.
The Early Birds
Four young men, students of Dhaka University followed the trail of 2 EBR, joined hands with them and were present at Kishoreganj station when Lt. Mahboob handed over the message from Khaled to Shafiullah. They were among the very first to join the Liberation war as Freedom Fighters. Ashfaqus Samad (Nishrat or Ashfie as some of his friends called him), Bodi, Shahidullah Khan (Badal) and Masud (Pong). The
70
concept of Liberation War, as later developed, with training facilities and sectors, did not crystalize at that time. Moreover 2 East Bengal Regiment was then busy with planned attack of Pakistan army units at Dhaka. They did not have time for civilian volunteers and recruits. So the three of them, Badal, Bodi and Samad were sent back to Dhaka with some small arms. Masud came to Teliapara with the main body of 2 EBR. The Reality of Brahmanbaria On 29th March some of our regular troops were placed for defense at different points of the town perimeter. Rest of the troops was moved to the north of the town in a school by the side of the road to prepare for onward journey towards Sylhet. In the last two days the jubilant mood of the town calmed down significantly. People started to think a little ahead. Report from Dhaka refugees was very demoralizing. Sheikh Mujib was reported to have been arrested from his own house in Dhaka before midnight when the firings began. All other Awami League stalwarts went into hiding. Pakistan Army cleared Dhaka City of all resistance and liquidated all possible sources of resistance. Agitation in Dhaka simply evaporated into thin air. General public in Brahmanbaria was getting concerned. Fall of Brahmanbaria into the hands of Pakistanis was only a matter of time. Anybody could guess that. After all, what is one Bengal Regiment against the Pakistan Army?
———–
8. Ashfaqus Samad became an officer in Bangladesh army during the
course of the war. He was killed in action in late November 1971. Bodi became a fierce guerilla fighter and was later captured and killed by Pakistan army. Badal and Masud became war veterans. They went into business after the war. Masud died in 2010.
——–
The Panic
About 12-noon sound of automatic fire was heard from the southern end of the town. We came out of the school building to see what was happening. People in the streets were nervous and started to run in the opposite direction. With fear in their eyes, some were running on foot, some paddled on their cycles wildly, some were carrying young children in their laps and some were on rickshaws. One young man on a motor cycle came from the direction of shooting, violently wavering from side to side, stupefied and muttering something in a hoarse voice. He went off to the other direction. One rickshaw trying to go very fast, turned upside down, both the rickshawallah and the passenger jumped off and ran leaving behind the rickshaw while one wheel of the rickshaw was still spinning off the ground. Panic is a depressing scene. We tried to guess what was happening at the other end.
The First Battle
Khaled Musharraf’s jeep came zooming from the direction of the shooting. From the main road his jeep turned towards us and parked in front of the school building. Khaled came down from the jeep. He took off his beret cap and said, “War has started at the other end.” I was trying to fathom his state of mind. There was something in his voice that made me wonder if he was not a little puzzled? Worried may be? From the sound of shooting it was a common knowledge that war had started. We did not need Khaled to come and confirm it. Or did he just say it in a manner of speaking. I was not sure if I detected a little lack of self confidence in Khaled’s bearing. Lot of thoughts were going around in my mind. Coming face to face with sounds of firing in a real war, I felt depressed. The
prospect of fighting a war with formidable Pakistan Army was much too obvious. Khaled ordered to get the convoy ready and move. Trucks lined up one after another. The sound of firing stopped in the meantime. News came that two Pakistan Army jeeps came up to the other side of the bridge and fell in our ambush. They tried to run away, some of their troops died and one jeep was destroyed, the other one somehow escaped. No casualties on our side. I felt better with the good news. We had the taste of battle however small. And the first victory was ours. On the other hand, we have just announced war on Pakistan. Friends and enemies are now decided and marked like black and white. From here onwards, there is no more romanticism, philosophy or politics. From now on it would be a cat and mouse game. We would try our best to remain alive and Pakistan would try to wipe us out from the face of the earth as soon as possible. Either we fight to death or if we are caught, death by seven bullets in a court martial. Victory! It is not within my sight.

Depression

My lively and energetic self of only two days earlier has now turned morose and depressed, like a fresh lime turning pickled. I felt like all hopes and expectations are behind me and I am going down and down into the abyss of depression. Even the prospect of being in an ambulance as the last vehicle of convoy, made me apprehensive. If Pakistan Army attacks from behind then I shall be a sitting duck. I was having nightmares of Pakistan Army advances from all sides. The convoy moved in the afternoon. Road was deserted. The town itself seemed to be empty. The jubilant mood became a thing of past with just one blow. There was no one to see us off. Even the new recruits of my training company could not be seen anywhere around. They seemed to have had their fill. I sat in the front seat. Jahed Ali was driving and medical asst. Gaznabi sat in the back. A while after we left Brahmanbaria town, the road turned right towards Sylhet. At Shahbazpur Bridge, I saw Lt. Haroon at the base of the bridge with his troops in fortified defense position. In the dying light of dusk, Haroon and his small party seemed to be insignificant to me. I felt, Pakistan Army would come anytime now and wipe off Haroon and his troops in a matter of seconds, like a steamroller crushing some pebbles. Facing hard reality of seemingly inevitable destruction, I felt very sorry for myself. I was drowning in self-pity. I knew there was no glory in the way I was thinking; yet I could not help myself. I remembered a Tagore song for the less courageous. “Oh weak hearted, you are not in charge of this world. Why worry. The Skipper has strong muscles. He will get the boat across. Why are you afraid of the black cloud in the west? You should rather enjoy the beauty of the stars in the east. Storm will come and destroy, people will cry and mourn. Yet the skipper will get the boat to safety. You weak hearted; you are not in charge of this world. We crossed the bridge and continued our journey towards Sylhet. Journey into the Night Evening outside darkened and became night. The convoy rolled on for hours. Asphalt road turned into narrow track. In the shadowy light outside, trees on both sides of the road were passing very closely by, and were getting lost in darkness forever. Very much like the days we have just left behind. My newly married wife, parents, brothers, sisters, friends, my belongings, everything was behind me now. Till Brahmanbaria, we at least had an address, but not any more. I
have no idea where I am going, when I shall return, if ever I or get shot or die here, no one would even know where to look My earlier jubilance was long gone. Death is probably not so bad if it came without thinking. But to die or prepare to die in a cool brain seemed to me very difficult. I kept on thinking late into the night. At one point I left my seat to Gaznabi, and went to bed in the back cabin. The ambulance kept rumbling on through the night.

Teliapara Tea Estate, 30 March 1971 I woke up at dawn. There were no sound from the convoy. I could hear birds and rustling of leaves. Absence of the rumbling of the rolling convoy of last night was almost startling. Nobody seemed to be around. Jahed Ali or Gaznabi were not in the front. I came out of the ambulance. We were in a valley with hills on all sides with lush green vegitation and large trees all around in such numbers that one could hardly see the sky. We were in a tea plantation. The slope around us was a nest of tea plants with shade trees at regular intervals. A narrow track ran twisting through the valley. The vehicles of our convoy were parked on both sides of the track and never be spotted from the sky. I walked down the road. It led to a hill. At the end of the road on the hilltop was a large rest house on a huge compound. It was the rest house of Teliapara tea estate. Already a number of tents were set up in the compound. Longor was set up in one tent preparing breakfast for the troops. I had some puri and a cup of tea. I was having tea when my first patient came. It was a soldier with dislocated shoulder joint. His right arm was hanging askew. It could be fixed in two ways. One was to hold the arm firmly, pull the elbow medial to the center of the body and slap the open palm on the other shoulder. I tried this
75

method but could not fix it, probably because he had a thick uniform with rolled up sleeves and I could not hold him properly. Then I tried the other method. I laid him on the ground, held him down with my boot in his armpit raised and held his arm firmly and gave a quick pull on his hand. The joint snapped back into position. Then I put his arm in a triangular sling with advice not to move his hand for a few hours.

The New Morning

Signalmen were busy with wireless sets keeping contact with units positioned at different locations. All the personnel awake were busy with something. Rest of the troops was sleeping wherever they could find a place. I went to Khaled’s room. Equipment and arms were stacked all over the place. Work was going on in the middle of all that. Khaled was in a blue and white striped sleeping gown. He was shaving in a very relaxed manner. The table in front of him was laid with maps in transparent covers. Work was going on. Signals were coming in and going out. Orders were being passed on to different companies with different directives on who will go where, who is to do what, which tea garden to go to, where to put defense, what is to be done with the EPRs in the BOPs (border out posts). Khaled was shooting away all these directives effortlessly while he was shaving. What arrangements we are going to do for the training of recruits. What kind of training we are going to give them, if the labourers of the tea gardens will be given any kind of training, if yes then would it be with bows and arrows, or with modern weapons, all these were points of discussion. Officers, Subeders and messengers were coming in or going out on different errands. Every movement seemed coordinated and purposeful. Everything was moving at a pace around Khaled, with him as the central driving force. The last minute restlessness of Brahmanbaria seemed to have vanished in thin air with some magic touch. Things couldn’t have been more relaxed even if we came here for holidaying. Like panic, the sense of security is also contagious. In this bright and sunny morning in Teliapara I did not see panic anywhere, nor did I see weakness or doubt in anyone’s movement, conversation or action. Being there, my depression slowly melted away. When a leader provides a sense of purpose and a sense of security it becomes possible for lesser mortals to carry on. The bearing, self-confidence, movement and activity of a leader adds up and exerts influence over his followers. Especially when life and death of the followers depend on the leader. A weak and indecisive leader could be the worst thing that can happen to a follower. My stethoscope and medicines remained in the ambulance. Instead, the Chinese SMG became my permanent companion. Commando officer Captain Haider was posted in 3 Commando Battalion in Comilla. After crackdown, the two Bengali officers of the Battalion were closed in the officer’s mess. On the evening of 27″ a jeep was on it’s way to the Commando Officers Mess to arrest them. Capt. Haider decided to escape while the other officer Capt. Mokhlesh stayed. Capt. Haider jumped across the boundary wall and went behind a hedge, when two jeeps came and took Capt. Mokhlesh to custody. Capt. Haider, with the help of his commando training, tracked down 4 E. Bengal Regiment to Teliapara and came over safely, avoiding Pakistan Army and joined us on the 30″ of March.’
——-
9. Capt. Mokhlesh was taken to Pakistan. In 1974 he was repatriated and
served in Bangladesh Army to be a General. Haider played a crucial role to develop guerrilla troops for Mukti Bahini. After the war, he
——-
Liberating the BOPS
We were not far from the border with India. There was a number of Border Out Posts around our base, manned by EPR soldiers. The JCO and NCO in EPR were largely W. Pakistanis. Troops were mainly Bengalis. March 25 crack down followed by disruption of communication created confusion among the EPR personnel in the BOPs. Being largely detached and isolated, it was very difficult and traumatic for them to adapt to the new realities. More so because they patrolled the border side by side for ages. Then suddenly the partnership fell apart. No normal person in his sane mind could accept such traumatic changes. Most of the Bengali troops deposited their arms to the West Pakistani JCOs in the camps and went home. The West Pakistanis had no where to go, so they stayed put. When we came into the area, they remained in the BOPs with Pakistani flag still hoisted waiting for something to happen. One of our first jobs was to liberate these BOPs.
Mahboob used to go to the BOPs with some escorts and his SMG in hand. All the BOPs surrendered one after another. Bengali personnel were taken into our strength and the West Pakistanis were disarmed.
The Accident We recovered a lot of arms and ammunitions from these BOPs. Apart from the standard issues, many of the EPR JCOs used to keep personal handguns. One day we met with an accident with such a handgun. Capt. Haider, Lt. Kabir and myself were in the
——-
became a Lt. Col. and commanded 13 E. Bengal Regiment. He was assassinated along with Khaled and Huda in 1975.
——–
rest house having tea in late afternoon. Mahboob returned from a mission to a BOP with some W. Pakistani prisoners. Among the arms recovered was a nice looking revolver with a long barrel. All three of us were trying to find out the opening mechanism of the chamber. Suddenly it misfired. I could see the flash in semi darkness of the room. My first impulse was if anyone had been hit because I wasn’t. Then I saw Haider holding his left hand with the right. I brought him to light outside the room to examine. It was a clean through and through hole about three inches below his elbow. Hand movement was present. I thought that the bullet did not touch any bone. But I was wrong. Next day, Haider bhai was taken to Agartala. On X-ray it was seen that the bullet also hit the bone Ulna. He had to have a cast for a few weeks. India and Indians A small stream marked the boundary between Bangladesh and India. India, was a near yet distant country for us. For a Pakistani, “India” did not signify just another country like Brazil, Burma or Australia. India jingled a lot of bells in our minds. India meant competition; India meant blood feud, war and Kashmir. India never meant friendship, love, magnanimity and brotherhood. We grew up in Pakistan regarding India as the enemy No.l. We regarded ourselves as the better lot. We imagined Indians as cunning, miser, less courageous and small minded. In short, we loved to hate India. The animosity originated from the deprivation of our previous generation in the hands of the Hindus in undivided India when Hindus were a relatively stronger economic force and had superiority in education over fellow Muslims. There was however one vital factor in East Pakistan which prevented the racial attitude towards India to be complete, the oneness of Bengali culture on both sides of the border. The language and alphabet were shared most lovingly. A Bengali irrespective of religion or nationality shared the traditional cultural events of the six seasons with equal enthusiasm. As a result, while a Pakistani Bengali could be as much a Pakistani as a Pathan or a Punjabi, at the same token he could be as much a Bengali as anyone else. There was nothing wrong about a Pathan being a good Pathan or a Baluch loving his Baluchi tradition, but a Bengali loving Bengali tradition was not acceptable to the Pakistani rulers or their surrogates in East Pakistan. They tried to change this nature by replacing Bengali alphabets with Arabic, by importing Urdu/Arabic words into the Bengali language and by banning works of the great poet Rabindranath Tagore But these measures did not work, as Bengalis in East Pakistan were not prepared to sell their cultural heritage at any price. With this background and recent developments following 25″ March, we were facing India at the end of the road. For survival and materialization of our objectives, our only option was to turn to India for help. We were not sure how India would react. We were not sure of their possible behavior as they had equal right to hate us as we hated them. To our pleasant surprise, we found Indians to be warm-hearted people and genuinely sympathetic to us Bangladeshis in view of our recent ordeal. Personally I was not able to detect any trace of animosity in almost any Indian I came across. Their commitment to help us in achieving our objectives was total and wholehearted. To our relief, the question of our attitude towards India between 1947 to 1971 never came up. Indians in general have milder temperament than Pakistanis do. Indians from all walks of life like BSF, Govt. servants,
80
intellectuals, journalists and general public were all well behaved. Some of them spoke Bengali, some spoke Hindi or English, but all of them were very accommodative. When our so-called Pakistani brothers of 25 years of relationship beat us mercilessly and we were burning with rage for retribution, it was the Indians who came with a warm hand of friendship. With the Indians, came new hopes, possibility of fresh arms, food and shelter. Possibility of contact with rest of the world and possibility of informing the media about us. So the contact with India created a new dimension in our fight. This was very thrilling to me. What seemed to be the end of a trail leaving behind a known world, was now like looking at a glimmering new horizon after a dark night. In 40 Fd. Amb. Tea room there was a map on the wall showing the eastern border with India. Maps always fascinate me. Often I used to stand in front of the map. The names on our side of the border were all known and common, but the names on the other side did not mean anything to me. Except for a name like Agartala, most of the area, was some mileage of nameless, faceless and dark Indian Territory. Now that dark mileage was opening up bright and shining. I met Lt. Col. Banarjee of BSF at the stream. A small bridge was under construction for movement between liberated territories and India. The border was of course open to us but we crossed the border on specific purpose only. On the other side was BSF outpost Simna.

New Training Company

I remained in charge of the Training Company in Teliapara. In Brahmanbaria the recruits had zeal without commitment. They did not have determination. They were like most people who wanted to have a good time without having to pay for it. They wanted to be known as freedom fighters without making sacrifices. As a result all their enthusiasm evaporated with the first blow. In contrast, most of those who came for training in Teliapara were a different lot. They were hardened. They came with a pledge and earnestness. Most of them had experienced personal loss. Some lost their homes, family members or friends. They had seen the atrocities of Pakistan Army. They could either surrender their conscience like many others did or they could fight back. They chose to fight back. They were the right kind of raw materials needed to make a freedom fighter. The recruits came from all walks of life. Farmers, family men, educated, uneducated, students, laborers, para military, retired army personnel, police, all came. The common factor was the determination to fight back. The training company grew rapidly. We received supply of training material from BSF. One BSF Officer Captain Kohli with some other professional trainers were assigned to assist us in the training job. Captain Kohli stayed with me in the training company, later we moved to the Manager’s bungalow of Teliapara Tea Estate. The student leader from Brahmanbaria, Humayun came with a 50 c.c. Honda. I kept the Honda for my movement. It was of great help for me to criss-cross the whole plantation area covering a number of tea gardens. When 2nd Bengal joined forces with us, Lt. Mannan was also assigned to the Training Company. He would eventually take over responsibility from me when I moved on to Sonamura.

Meeting Khizir, Sadeq and Amjad Again On one of my rounds through the tea gardens, while passing by Teliapara BOP, I heard that the three imprisoned officers of 4 E. Bengal, Lt. Col. Khizir, Major Sadeq and Lt. Amjad were being handed over to the Indians for safe keeping. They were held at this BOP on transit. They were taken from place to place for safe keeping, which was pot very easy these unstable days. So finally they were going to India. I felt an urge to meet them once again. The EPR personnel have been moved from the BOP. Which now stood empty and heavy with silence. I entered the BOP. The three prisoners were sitting on chairs facing each other in one room. They were blindfolded and had their hands tied at the back. When they heard me enter the room, Amjad moved and tried to understand what was happening. Sadeq was following the sound of my footsteps. Lt. Col. Khizir had the Quoran Sharif in one pocket and his glasses in another. He did not move. It was only five days earlier that we had broken off, yet it seemed to be so long ago. I did not know Khizir or Amjad much, but with Sadeq I spent a lot of time together. He used to talk about his little daughter often. We used to swap books and smoked the same brand of cigarettes. I still had one of his books, “Blood Brothers”. I stood there for a while and was thinking it must have been a long time that Sadeq had smoked a cigarette. The least I could do for them was to offer him one. I still had a pack of Gold Dew in my pocket. I lit one and held it at Sadeq’s lips. At first he was surprised, but the next instant he knew what it was. With practiced ease he held the cigarette between his lips and inhaled the smoke to his heart’s fill. Then he let the smoke out, and asked in a long tone “K-o-u-n hai?” (Who’s there?) May be I did not want to be a part of their painful memory more than I already was. If they were going to India, so be it. They would be safe there. I did not reply, just stood by his side. He asked again, “K-0-u-n hai.” This time I gently patted his shoulder twice. After a while he said in English, “Whoever you are, thank you.” For a long time Sadeq’s words echoed and hung heavily in the silent room.

Moving into Manager’s Bungalow

2nd E. Bengal moved into Teliapara from 2 April. We vacated the rest house for them and shifted to Teliapara Manager’s Bungalow. The Manager’s Bungalow was like a picture postcard. A large expanse of green all around the large house. The house had everything left intact. Whoever lived here must have left in a hurry leaving everything behind. It was a pity that within a short while, this beautiful decor will be trampled under uncaring boots. I felt guilty for our intrusion into what had been a happy home for some family. But then, we did not want to break into anybody’s home; we have been forced to do whatever we were doing only as a response to what Pakistan Army did to us. The only thing in that house that was handily useful, was the stock of drinks. We helped ourselves and treated visitors like BSF officers and journalists. On further visits they returned the compliment with cases of Indian whiskies like Black Knight and Aristocrat. The bungalow also had an exquisite collection of books in the library. We used the library as a conference room.

Followers of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman We used to tune to Indian Radio for home news. ‘Akashbani’ gave correct accounts on our activity but they used to refer to us as ‘Followers of Shaikh Mujibur Rahman’. I wondered why they would do that. Because we were not followers of Shaikh Mujibur Rahman or Awami League. We were Pakistan Army ourselves. We came into the fight against Pakistan Army for self-preservation and to avenge the injustice done to East Pakistan. On the other hand, I thought, after all it was we who had returned the verdict for him in the election. Mujib’s speech of 7″ March was a tremendous moral booster for any Bengali including those in the defense services. But the political process remained in progress as Mujib continued the discussion with Yahia and Bhutto between 7″ and 24″ March. Though we don’t know for sure what he had been discussing with Yahia and Bhutto between 7ch and 24th March, it is obvious that he was fighting for the rights of the people of East Pakistan or he wouldn’t have been in Pakistani jail today. Therefore he was our leader all right. Still, when ‘Akashbani’ started referring to us as ‘Freedom Fighters’, it sounded more appropriate to me than ‘Followers of Shaikh Mujibur Rahman’ did.

Meeting Major Ziaur Rahman On 4″ morning, when I heard that 2 E. Bengal officers were in the rest house, I went to meet Mokhter Kamal Choudhury. He was the RMO of 2 E. Bengal as I was RMO of 4 E. Bengal. The rest house was packed with baggage and trunks. Officers of 2 E. Bengal looked very tired. They were having catnaps in the cramped space. I met Mokhter Kamal and we talked for a while. There was another doctor with the group named Ahmed Ali. 2 Bengal had picked him up from Mymansingh Medical College on their way to Teliapara. On my way back, I crossed a blue Cortina car with a Chittagong number plate. The car after crossing me stopped and honked and waved me to stop and come over. I turned and came over to the car. A single passenger sat in the back. He indicated me to come to the rear window. He was in civilian clothes; dark sunglasses and a coffee coloured golf cap. He said something I could not hear. I removed my helmet and said, “Excuse me?” He said, “I am Major Zia.”
85
So this was the Major Zia of 8 E. Bengal Regiment whose voice we had heard on the radio. I saluted him and introduced myself. Major Zia said, “Take me to your Headquarters.” So I led his car to our place, the Manager’s Bungalow of Teliapara Tea Estate.

The Meeting of 4 April

That day we had a great gathering in our Headquarters. The meeting took place in the library turned conference room. Colonel Osmani, Lt. Col. Rob, Lt. Col. Reza, Major Zaman (RTD.) Major Zia, Major Shafiullah, Major Khaled and Brigadier Pande, of BSF. Brigadier Pande was a diminutive, bullish man and had a mustache with pointed ends. He was wearing shorts. He looked very pleased with himself to have been able to bring together these military pioneers of Liberation war. “Thank God,” he said, “I have now been able to get all of you in one place. Put your heads together and decide your own course of action.” It was a great moment in the history of Liberation War. It was the first exchange of notes between the leaders of Liberation Forces. It was also the first opportunity to coordinate activities of the three East Bengal Regiments and other pro-liberation forces under unified command. The Liberation Army was formed in Teliapara meeting and coordinated activities of the Liberation Army started. Major Shafaat Jamil of 4 E. Bengal, Major Nurul Islam and Major Moinul Islam Chowdhury of 2 E. Bengal were the youngest officers to be present in that meeting. Among some important decisions taken at that meeting was the formation of Bangladesh Forces under Colonel Osmani and division of eastern boundary of Bangladesh into four sectors.
Sector 1: Chittagong and Hill Tracts under Major Ziaur Rahman with 8 E. Bengal. Sector II: Comilla and Noakhali under Major Khaled Musharraf with 4 E. Bengal. Sector 3: Part of Sylhet district under Major Shafiullah with 2 E. Bengal. Sector 4: Part of Sylhet district under Major Dutta with his paramilitary troops. 8 E. Bengal suffered heavy casualties in hand to hand fight with Pakistan Army in the first week of the war. They lost almost half of the troops already. So one Company each from 2 and 4 E. Bengal was decided to be sent to Major Zia as reenforcement of 8 E. Bengal. It was also decided in that meeting to try to form a Provisional Bangladesh Government in Agartala. Major (Rtd.) Zaman was given the responsibility to coordinate. He went to Agartala and stayed there for this purpose. The Provisional Bangladesh Government was formed in Agartala on 10 April. It was very difficult to recognize Colonel Osmani without his trade mark mustache. In a pajama, kurta and sandals, he looked like an ordinary Bengali villager. Col. Osmani was with us till late. When he came out in the evening, there was clear moonlight shining on the tin roof of the large bungalow. Col. Osmani almost panicked. He said, ‘everything is visible in this bright light. A helicopter attack could be imminent’, and left in a hurry. The panic was repeated next morning when a Pakistani message was intercepted ‘T. O. T. at 8 O’clock’, which meant an attack would be carried out somewhere at 8 O’clock.

My Last Days in Teliapara

After the big wig meeting, one Company of 4 E. Bengal with Capt. Matin left for Chittagong to join 8 E. Bengal as planned. Rest of the 4 E. Bengal Regiment personnel under Major Khaled went through India to Sonamura area to form the first base of Sector II in Srimontopur opposite Bibir Bazar. Major Shafaat remained in Teliapara for some more time. Major Shafaat changed a lot. He used to remain deeply absorbed in his thoughts. He wanted to abolish Officer’s mess system. As a compromise he would allow only one piece of meat or chicken for lunch or dinner for the officers, same as what an ordinary soldier got. He made sure, we always carried personal arms. He would discipline anyone if found without it. One-day news came from Dhaka that Pakistan Army has taken Major Nurul Islam’s family as hostage. This was shocking news for all of us. We did not expect Pakistanis to bring families into the picture. We all thought of the uncertain fate of our own families. Only Major Shafaat made a comment raging with anger, “Whatever had to happen has happened. We can’t do any good for the families from here. Now there is only one thing to do ahead of us, fight as best as we can.” From the indications we were receiving, I was not sure about my own family anymore. And silently I agreed with Major Shafaat that it is better to put all the worries aside.

Role of Teliapara

Pragmatic thinking of Khaled Musharraf to create a safe area within Bangladesh adjacent to Indian border paid off. Teliapara served as a safe haven for troops of 4 and 2 East Bengal Regiments, EPR and other armed personnel to fall back, lick their wounds, re-organize, regroup and get back to business. Politicians, intellectuals, High Govt. Officials and scores of people from other professions came to Teliapara. Our men guided many important people from inside occupied territories to the safety of Teliapara and eventually to India. Teliapara served as the first organized military training camp within Bangladesh. Teliapara, a landmass of Bangladesh, secured and defended by disciplined Bangladeshi military, with communication facilities, mobility and contact on both sides of the border, became a tangible piece of evidence that independent Bangladesh could be a reality. With logistic support, training and other helps, Bangladesh Army with its present nucleus, could one day be developed to a level when they could match the aggressors. Teliapara was an important contact point between Bangladesh Forces and India in the early stages of Liberation War, and the only contact point within Bangladesh territory. For the Indian and International Press, Teliapara was like seeing and believing that Mukti Bahini is at work. Also that Mukti Bahini is not exactly a rag tag gathering of armed men, rather a formidable group of regular soldiers under professional leadership. The journalists came in a steady stream, stayed with us for a day or two, saw our war efforts and wrote their reports. This helped create a respectful public image for the freedom fighters and the liberation war. It also became distinctly clear that the stream of refugees reaching Calcutta and the fighters in Teliapara were two different entities. For press coverage on the refugee problem one went to Kalyani or Salt Lake in Calcutta, but to cover war efforts, one came to Teliapara. Teliapara base performed a crucial role in the formation of Provisional Government of Bangladesh in Agartala on 10″ April. Because of Khaled’s decisions, Bangladesh Army remained a formidable and sustainable force in Independent Bangladesh territory retaining its full originality and pride. This helped negotiate with the Indians from a position of strength and mutual respect.
————
10. In the later days, when Bangladesh Army moved through India to the border
areas, this would have far reaching effect in the formation of Liberation forces and keeping their morale high throughout the course of war.
———–
Last Trip to Brahmanbaria On my last day in Teliapara, I was sent to Brahmanbaria to bring some funds. I managed a hardtop Toyota from a nearby garden. A BSF officer Captain Chatterjee came along with me. He was a jolly good fellow. A few miles short of Brahmanbaria, we had a flat tyre and there was no spare. Driver Jahed Ali went with the wheel to get it fixed. It was about sunset. Chatterjee started singing while we waited. He was singing ‘Shyama’ of Tagore. His voice was good but he skipped lot of lines. After he finished, I started ‘Shyama’. I knew most of these dance dramas by heart. So after a while Chatterjee gave an embarrassed smile. He was surprised that we were used to Tagore culture as much as they were. It took hours for Jahed Ali to return. First we went to Lt. Col. Reza. He was not in the best of his mood.” But with us he was nice and smiling. The fund however had already been sent because of our delay. Then we went to Capt. Ainuddin’s Headquarters. Capt. Ainuddin was still in Brahmanbaria for its defense. He had a pleasant personality, always smiling. In his headquarters a man was held captive with his hands tied at the back. The man was of fair complexion; he had small eyes, and a pockmarked cruel face. But he had no fear in his eyes. A very unusual sight. I was curious. I asked Ainuddin, “Sir what is it with him?”
——
11. Lt. Col Reza had personality problem with Col. Osmani. In the later
days of Liberation war, Lt. Col. Reza remained marginalized in Calcutta. In independent Bangladesh he became colonel before retiring into civilion life.
——
90
Ainuddin simply said, “He will be shot tomorrow morning.” “Why, Sir?” I asked. Then Capt. Ainuddin told the whole story, “This chap is one of our Freedom Fighters. He came on leave from Pakistan when the war broke out. He joined us, and was a good fighter. He killed at least fifteen enemy soldiers all by himself. But then went home without leave. His wife married another man while he was away. He killed both his ex wife and her husband and sneaked back. Now he has been arrested’. The man also heard what Capt. Ainuddin said but there was no change of expression. He did not seem to differ with the story. In fact he looked satisfied and made a comment, ‘Sir, I have no regret. But I just wish I killed some more Punjabis before I died’. I was surprised, almost shocked. The man knew he was to be shot within hours. Yet he did not seem to be least concerned. All he wishes is to kill some more enemies. This was insane. People on a death row usually break down or pray to God for whatever sins they were to die. But this fellow did not have any guilty feelings, he was not afraid, and he wanted to live only to kill some more enemies. Should he die? I asked myself. My answer was negative. In fact, to me he did not look that ugly any more. The man did not speak any further. He just sat there with all the defiance in the world in his face. We had dinner with Capt. Ainuddin. Before we returned, I begged for mercy for that man.

Captain Ainuddin neither said yes nor did he say no to my mercy petition.” After returning to Teliapara, I faced Major Shafaat. *Akhtar’! ‘Yes Sir’. *What are you doing in Teliapara’? ‘Looking after the Training Company’. “Mannan is there. You go and report to Major Khaled in Sonamura. We are having casualties there’. *Yes Sir’. Masud (Pong), a friend of Samad came to Teliapara. Next morning I set out for Sonamura in the same jeep with Masud as the driver. I took some shell dressing, bandages, some analgesics and antibiotics with me. Rest of the staff and the Ambulance remained in Teliapara for the time being.
———
12. Many years later when Ainuddin was a retired Major General in 1997, I
asked him if he remembered about the fate of that soldier. He said he did remember. The man was released next day and continued fighting with his usual bravery. He was later killed in action in one of the battles.
————
92
Book 3.
In India
Road to Sonamura

Tea garden continues on the other side of the border in Simna valley. Then starts the ‘Shal Bagan’ (forest of mainly ‘Shal’ trees, common in these parts. Shal is a slender round bodied tree that gives solid hard wood and is generally used in making poles), hills and forest. The road goes down south through tortuous bends and by the side of 91 BSF HQ. It continues to Agartala and other towns on the way like Bishalgar, Melaghar, Sonamura on one track, and the other bifurcation bends east near Melaghar to continue through Udaypur to Belonia and Sabrum, opposite of Ramghar in Bangladesh. Last time I went to India was in 1965, just after the IndoPakistan war, when I was a student of Rajshahi Medical College. In Indian towns, I always get a special smell. Probably the smell is from a mixture of odors from “Puri’ fried in vegetable oil, curry to go with it; ‘Dhup’ or incense made from Sandalwood commonly used in the shops, roasted biri” and cow-dung. After many years I got the same smell in Agartala. India did not import foreign automobiles. Especially in eastern states like Tripura, there were not many varieties of automobiles to be seen. When we parked our Toyota Land Cruiser in the market place, instantly a crowd gathered around us, partly to have a look at
———–
13. Biri is dry tobacco rolled in a special kind of leaf, smoked as cigarette
in India. Biri is roasted before use. It gives an excellent aroma while roasting.
——
the vehicle and partly to look at us. One enthusiastic person, probably an auto mechanic even went under the jeep. We had some shopping to do. Pakistani currency was good. The exchange rate was one to one with Indian Rupee, though a couple of days back our one rupee fetched 1.25 Indian Rupees. The river Gumti criss-crosses the road to Sonamura a number of times. Then flows into Bangladesh near Comilla. At the first bridge after Agartala I remembered a joke Capt. Chatterjee had said. One day he was driving a newly arrived senior officer on this road. At the first bridge He asked Chatterjee, ‘What is the name of this river?’ Chatterjee said, ‘Gumti sir’. At the next bridge the senior officer asked the same question and Chatterjee’s reply was the same. There could be other rivers in the area but Chatterjee did not know the names. Only name he knew was Gumti. On the third bridge when Chatterjee gave the same reply “Gumti sir’. The officer asked him to stop the jeep; he got down and asked a local person what the name of the river was. Lucky for Chatterjee it was Gumti. So the officer came back to the car muttering to himself, “Man, this Gumti is a hell of a river!” The road was tortuous and hilly all through from Agartala to Sonamura with some dangerous bends in between. Traffic was mainly Ambassador taxies. It carries five passengers in the back seat and four in front. Mahindra CJ-3 jeeps with a carrier attached were also used as public transport to carry passengers. Private transport was rare.

Dr. U. N. Roy

Sonamura is a subdivision headquarters, though a small and rural township. It is located very near to the border and not far from Comilla in Bangladesh. But this is hilly terrain while Comilla is flat. Local population spoke Bengali in a similar dialect to that of Comilla. We reached Sonamura at about midday. First I wanted to meet the SDMO (Sub Divisional Medical Officer). The hospital was located on a hilltop with a large compound and a Bungalow for SDMO. In the hospital I went to the SDMO’s chamber. His name was Dr. U. N. Roy. I introduced myself as a physician from Bangladesh Army. Dr. Roy kept staring at me for a long time. Probably I did not look much like a doctor. Have I changed so much? I wondered. May be it was the SMG slung from my shoulder while I should have had a stethoscope popping out from a pocket and some decent clean clothes instead of battle fatigue. Of course I have changed. All I did in the two weeks is soldiering, getting sunburn, moving from place to place in convoys and I didn’t shave. Dr. Roy was a nice gentleman and he was cordial to us. I told him that from now on we would have military operations in his area. There would be casualties and I would need his help. I might have to send injuries or other cases to his hospital and if he could help with medicines or dressings once in a while, it would be great Dr. Roy promised to help us to the best of his ability. He ordered for tea and snacks for us. Over tea, he asked me about my family. I said I had no information. He was shocked and stunned to hear that. I can’t blame him because normally we Bengali middle-class on both sides of the border take life very easy. Everything is taken for granted and almost nothing happens in our life outside daily routine. Not to have any
95
information of one’s own family is almost unheard of. Dr. Roy invited us for lunch. We declined politely but he took us to his house and introduced us to his family. Before we returned from hospital, he held my hand in a strong grip like an old friend and requested me to come over whenever I please, with or without work.
Srimontopur
Sector II Command center was across a river from Sonamura, at Srimontopur, a village at the border, about two miles from Sonamura. It was raining heavily. The hand pulled ferry was waiting for the rain to stop. We waited in the jeep for hours yet there was no sign for the rain to stop. On the other side of the river we could see the open jeep of Khaled Musharraf waiting to cross the river to go to Agartala. I went to the other side by the narrow footbridge and offered my jeep to Khaled to avoid crossing the vehicles from one side of the river to another. My jeep was better anyway, because it was hardtop. Khaled took my offer and we exchanged jeeps. Road across the river was partly asphalt and partly brick. It goes by the side of Srimontopur, Dhanpur and Nirbhoypur up to Kanthalia, a dead end. Beyond Kanthalia was Bangladesh territory We took the diversion from main road into a small track towards Srimontopur. The village was next to the BSF sentry post. Beyond the check point there was a BSF establishment on the left and a small river along the road on the right. After the BSF barracks was a playground, and a school building with a few tin shaded brick constructions. Next to the school were a post office and an old thatched cottage. ‘Sector Il’ tactical headquarters or operation center was housed in the school buildings. There was no room for my medical purposes. It was not only the 4 EBR personnel that were stationed here; the East Pakistan Rifles staffs from adjacent Border Out Posts were also here. I had to take the decaying thatched cottage, which was probably a cow shed before it went out of commission. The room had to be cleaned and washed a number of times and some quick fixing was required before I took over.

The One Bed Hospital I used some wooden planks on top of a few bricks to make a bed. Some more planks made a table for the medicine, dressing and instruments. Here, my job was to provide medical cover for more than one battalion of soldiers engaged in combat. Normally, a full Field Ambulance would have been needed here along with a mobile Operation Theater, supporting staff and replenishment of supplies. Apparently none was available here. Yet Khaled did not seem to be worried about it. This was not a priority at the moment. The war must go on at all costs. The onus was on me to do the needful. But I was not worried either. I had full confidence that none of my fellow soldiers will die without treatment. I would make sure of that.

Bibir Bazar, April ’71 From Srimontopur, Bangladesh is only about 500 meters to the west across the no man’s land. The brick road, leaving behind the last structure of the village, a mosque on its left and through the no man’s land continues right in to Bibir Bazar and Bangladesh. Bibir Bazar was our liberated territory. The border outpost of Bibir Bazar was located at a picturesque setting with the river nearby, flowing from India, encircling Bibir Bazar, into the interior of Bangladesh.
Entering Bibir Bazar from Srimontopur was always a pleasure. With its lush green expanse and open landscape typical of Bangladesh compared to hilly terrain of Tripura, Bibir Bazar never failed to enchant me. Moreover it was our own land. I used to go to Bibir Bazar whenever I had free time. But our accessibility was limited to a small area only. Except for the little foothold in Bibir Bazar, Pakistanis held rest of the land around it. So it was not exactly a safe place for sight seeing. We had defensive bunkers and connecting trenches along the riverbank. Before Khaled moved to Srimontopur from Teliapara, one Lt. Reza from Comilla City, sometimes known as Captain Reza, had locally organized a resistance group of Mujahids, Police, Ansar and students. With help and backing from Major Abraham of 18 Rajput, Major Bharat Bhusan, Major Arya and Major Chauhan of BSF, Lt. Reza conducted a raid on Comilla Airport through Dhanpur flank south of Srimontopur. Normally in Pakistan period, villagers with little or no education were given rifle training as a part of civil defense program. But in most part these paramilitary forces called Ansars and Mujahids were expected to be pro-establishment rather than fighting against it. In case of confusion they can duck everything and fizzle out from any call of duty and turn into a very ordinary villager, which they really are. These Mujahid freedom fighters in Bibir Bazaar were actually the only ones in our sector that I know of that spontaneously put up resistance against Pakistan army in an organized manner and successfully carried out raids on the enemy even before 4 E. Bengal troops arrived. When Col. Osmani and Brigadier Pande came to Sonamura, they heard about Reza and the group. Osmani called Reza and asked him to report to Major Khaled of 4 East Bengal who would be coming to Sonamura area shortly. When Khaled came to Srimontopur, Reza reported to him. Khaled ordered him to take defense in Bibir Bazar with his troops and some EPR personnel On the other side of the river Pakistanis had their bunkers. The whole river basin was like a shooting gallery at times. To raise one’s head from trench meant invitation for fire from Pakistani positions. The bullets used to pass by making whistling sounds. For a first timer, a burst of enemy bullets whining past is usually a matter to panic. After being shot at like this a couple of times, one gets used to it. The firing and sound of bullets became routine and normal. Then one just takes precaution of wearing a steel helmet and keeps his head low while darting through in the open. While Calcutta was the center for political activity and the place to go to see human grief in its extreme form in the refugee colonies, Tripura was the place where the action was. Our armed resistance was already making headlines all over the world since Teliapara days. Lot of people from the press and other agencies from western world and India started coming to Srimontopur to meet Major Khaled, take interviews and see things for themselves. We sometimes took them to the bunkers and gave some inviting shots to the enemy. Response used to be instant. Ra-tata-ta-ta automatic firing used to start from all along the river. Almost like a free show of real life war The visitors used to panic and jump all over the place and probably went home with a contented heart to have been in a bullet rain and get away without a scratch. Something to talk about to grand children. One gentleman however had a little too much. I saw his heartbeat went up over 200 per minute. He had to be carried to safety. One young journalist came from Bombay from a magazine *Tarun Bharat’. He was not satisfied with the mock shooting match. He insisted on going deep inside Bangladesh territory with one of our raiding parties to see action first hand. Except for war correspondents, normally reporters are content with what they see at or around the base camp without stretching their neck too far. We could not dissuade him from his request. Finally Khaled had to agree. We kept his address, gave him local men’s wear ‘lungi’, ‘genji’ and sent him in barefoot with a party. The party returned on the third day with the journalist in one piece. He had not only seen action; he also took part in it. The journalist returned home a very contented man. My first patient in Srimontopur was a peasant from across the river in Bibir Bazar. The man had an infected gunshot wound and toxemia. I treated him for about seven days. He got well and returned home. As a token of gratitude he sent two chickens. Lt. Reza remained in charge of the freedom fighters guarding the BOP of Bibir Bazaar. Our regular troops and the EPR personnel were engaged in operations at different locations. The tactical headquarter of 4 E. Bengal remained in Srimontopur and HQ Company of 4 E. Bengal moved to Motinagar to set up the Base camp and to organize training program.

Officers from Comilla April-May ’71 Lt. Col. Shahpur Khan, the CO of 24 FF Regiment in Comilla Cantonment was a Pathan. Pathans were different from Punjabis. Being minorities themselves in Pakistan and dominated by Punjabis, Pathans did not hate Bengalis as much as the Punjabis did. Shahpur Khan on his way to Chittagong with his regiment let his two Bengali officers Capt. Zafar Imam and Lt. Mahboob go free. While Lt. Col. Sarfaraz Khan of 53
——-
14. Lt. Col. Shahpur Khan, the CO of 24 Frontier Forces Regiment was
killed in action during an ambush by Mukti Bahini, while he was advancing towards Chittagong with his troops.
—–
100

Field Artillery Regiment, got the Bengali officers of his regiment arrested and shot. Reportedly Sarfaraz Khan and Major Sultan, BM of 53 Brigade, both Punjabis, organized the rounding up and killing of Bengali army officers of Comilla Cantonment and Civil officers from Comilla. Two of the Bengali officers of 53 Field Artillery unit, Capt. Islam and Second Lt. Imamuzzaman used to be my next door neighbour in Honeymoon Lodge,Comilla Cantonment. They were imprisoned by their own unit staff, taken to their unit and were held under lock and key in one room. Then one West Pakistani JCO came into the room and shot them. According to Lt. Imamuzzaman, when the JCO was going to shoot at them with his SMG, Captain Islam was trying to say, “Saab! Saab!..” That was all he could say before he was cut into half by the burst of bullets. Imamuzzaman was behind Islam. He was trying to hide from the direct line of fire, but he also stopped a few bullets and bled profusely. He was left in a pool of blood unconscious and considered to be dead. Later Lt. Imamuzzaman managed to crawl out of the room and miraculously escaped from the cantonment. From what Imam had seen and heard in the cantonment after 25 March, fate of Bengali troops and officers did not seem to be good. There was no news of any officer of my unit 40 Fd. Ambulance. Families of Bengali officers were taken to the Ispahani school concentration camp. Imam crossed over to India and joined us in Sector II. When I met him in Srimontopur, he had a bullet injury on his left wrist, an injured eye and an injured shoulder as bullets grazed past. But he was fighting fit and led troops into battle deep inside enemy territory. Lt. Mahboob of 24 FF. crossed over and joined in Sector II. He was posted to Motinagar training camp. Zafar Imam crossed over to India a few days later along with two other Bengali officers of Pakistan Army, Capt. Salek Chowdhury and Capt. Aminul Haque. All three of them joined Sector II.

Capt. Haider, Mahboob and Kabir

Capt. Haider in association with BSF commando officers was involved in intense commando activities at different locations deep inside Bangladesh territory. He made one such trip to Bhairab and Kishoreganj area with two BSF commando officers for a three-day mission to blow up some bridges. Haider managed to visit his parents in Kishoreganj briefly. He still had his left hand in a sling from the accident in Teliapara. After these missions, Capt. Haider was posted to Motinagar training camp where training had already started with mostly students from Dhaka and Comilla. Lt. Mahboob of 4 E. Bengal and Lt. Fazlul Kabir were stationed along the border. They were engaged in raid and ambush activities all along the Comilla-Dhaka-Chandpur axis. Later, Kabir was stationed at Dhanpur, few miles south of Srimontopur, and Mahboob at Nirbhoypur, further south of Dhanpur as sub-sector commander.

Motinagar April-May

Ali Ahmed Ziauddin from old Dhaka had been selected for commission in Pakistan army and was waiting for call up letter to join PMA (Pakistan Military Academy) when the crack down occured on 25″ March 1971. In the following days an area in old Dhaka, English Bazar was put on fire. English Bazar was a large whole sale market of Timber. The fire raged for some days and the whole place with all the timber burnt down. Ziauddin’s house was not far from there. Pakistan army remained very active in the area. Ziauddin considered his residence to be vulnerable and was looking for a way to get out of Dhaka and join the Liberation struggle, which was rumoured to be getting organized somewhere along the border with India. Ziauddin with his neighbour and friend Mustafa Jalal Mohiuddin, set out for Comilla by bus. After crossing Meghna river at Daudkandi, the bus stopped at a place due to army road block beyond a town called Chandina. From there the two travelers walked across villages for the rest of the day in the general direction towards India. At night they halted at a village and spent the night. Next morning with a guide from the village, they crossed Gumti and reached an Indian border town called Boxonogar where they found many other people from Bangladesh, loitering around. One local man approached them and asked who they were and what they were doing. They said they were students from Dhaka and wanted to join the “Mukti Bahini”. The local man asked them to come with him and led them to the Thana (police station). The officer in the thana was in the midst of striking a deal with smugglers to allow taking “Biri’ leaf bundles across the border when they reached there. Ziauddin told the officer that they wanted to join the ‘Mukti Bahini’, he said, “Yes, Mukti Bahini people often come here but there is no telling when they would come next time. So you might as well wait in Boxonagar till they come.” Ziauddin and his friend did not have much cash to last long enough, but they decided to wait. Lucky for them, the same day in early evening, a Mukti Bahini jeep came there. One officer with his left hand in plaster cast alighted from the jeep. Zia reported to the officer (Captain Haider) and told him about their intention. Haider asked Zia one question, “Which way is North?” Zia looked up in the sky and found the Geat Bear and followed it to the North Star and pointed, “That way, sir.” Haider took them in his jeep and drove through jungles and hilly tracks and dumped them in some place in the midst of nowhere and said “Wait here for me till morning” and went off with the jeep. That night, inspite of large mosquitos and blasting sound of shells and firing nearby, they slept well being very tired. Next morning Capt. Haider came back with the jeep and picked
them up. On the way Ziauddin came to know that last night Captain Haider, Captain Salek and their troops at Saldanadi went to attack one guarded food storage depot while zia and Mustafa were sleeping in a rear area. The foodgrains from the storage was taken to sector 2 headquarter by trucks previously arranged. Zia and Mustafa were taken to the newly formed Sector 2 headquarter at Motinagar and were handed over to Subeder Major Idris to arrange some training for them. They were one of the first freedom fighters to come to Motinagar. Motinagar is located west of Sonamura town very near to the border. Sector 2 headquarters were shifted to Motinagar between in the second and third week of April. Work on establishing a training camp started immediately since it was our primary objective. When Lt. Mahboob of 24 FF came in, he was placed in charge of the training camp. Tactical headquarters of Sector II remained in Srimontopur till last week of April. Motinagar was a hilly forest terrain with mainly ‘Shal trees’, accessible from Bangladesh on foot, and could be reached from Sonamura by a narrow jeepable track. Our establishment was situated over a large chunk of land. The news that we were operating a training camp somewhere across the border near Comilla spread like wild fire through Dhaka and adjacent districts of Sector II. Trainees started coming in a trickle for the first few days then they came in waves.

15. After a few days of training, Zia and Mustafa were sent back to Dhaka
by Commander Khaled Musharraf. They brought back some more friends from Dhaka including Habibul Alam, Bhason, Shyamal and Dipu. After the war, Zia went in to farming in Manikganj. Currently he still does integrated farming, as well as he is a director of an NGO. Mustafa Jalal Mohiuddin, shortly after returning from Dhaka, went off from Sector 2. After the war he became a physician. Currently Mustafa is a full time politician.

In the week following the radio announcement of 27″ March, Major Ziaur Rahman had become a household name in Bangladesh. After 25 March evening, political leadership completely evaporated from Dhaka. Only two days ago, on 23″ March People led themselves to the height of Bengali nationalism, overtaking the political process and declared independence by hoisting the new flag of Bangladesh on almost every household in the country. But after the merciless and devastating retaliation by Pakistan Army, against which people had practically no defense, the euphoria of two days ago simply died out. Their dreams completely shattered without any place to fall back, people lost all hope and fell in to an abyss of despair. That was when Zia’s voice was heard in the radio. That some people were fighting against Pakistan Army steamroller and that some form of organized resistance was still alive was like a soothing and inspiring news that gave people some reason to hang on to a hope like a drowning man hangs on to a straw. The would be fighters quietly started to look east and contemplated how to reach the Liberation Forces through uncharted territories. From mid April the name ‘Major Khaled Musharraf’ started getting familiar in Dhaka, specially among the student community and urban elite; that Khaled, a Bengal Regiment officer is conducting war against Pakistan Army somewhere along the eastern border and is running a training program for freedom fighters. Humiliated and determined Bengali boys who wanted to fight back against Pakistan Army, quietly started leaving their homes into different directions based on hearsay to find out Khaled and his troops. Nobody knew for sure which direction to go. Many went to wrong places, fell in wrong hands and lost their lives. But by and large safe routes to Motinagar were established sidetracking Pakistani positions and patrols on the way, across villages, markets, river ports, rivers and towns. Villagers along the route provided the travelers with shelter
105
and food although it is not always a surplus item in village homes. Some quickly rolled bread from wheat flour and a bit of gur (molasses) did the job with some water to drink. The villagers passed on information about the disposition of Pakistani troops and direction of safe routes. Then one day Pakistan army would come and burn down the village and machine-gun the villagers. Those who survived would join the exodus. Some new freedom fighters would emerge from them to avenge the death of their parents and brothers, to avenge the tears of their insulted sisters. The responsibility of providing food and shelter would be taken over by the next village. The spirit of Freedom lived on. Khaled correctly anticipated and he knew that the boys would come looking for training. We were ready for them. Our philosophy was to receive the waves of boys coming in. Shortage of accommodation, food or arms was not a problem. The hills of Motinagar were rich in natural resources. Making instant shelters and beds were easy. A few insects or snakes here and there didn’t matter much. But water source was one single brook twisting through the hills. It wouldn’t be a rare sight to watch a freedom fighter drinking from the brook while some offensive looking object pass by from somewhere upstream. We had some spare arms of our own, the whole lot of previously issued arms of 4 E. Bengal before the Chinese arms set issued were still under 4 East Bengal Possession and were reportedly brought over from Comilla Cantonment to Brahmanbaria during the final move. More arms came in bits and pieces from ambushes and raids on Pakistani troops. Food was shared. In dire necessities, food grain could always be made available through visits to the ration shops across the border. We did not have adequate plates and glasses. But there was a solution to that too. The cylindrical container of grenades, when opened flat on one side, served the purpose of plate and glass. For the first two weeks in Motinagar the trainees had almost nothing to eat, only rice with salt. It is said that the day daal was served with rice, rice fell short. Motinagar became flooded with determined recruits. The fire in their eyes and heart were more of a qualification for recruitment than their height or width of chest. One after another the recruits faced Capt. Mahboob and Capt. Haider. Motinagar welcomed them with open arms, trained them, taught them the business of war, and turned them into first class guerrilla fighters. Captain Mahboob of 24 FF was put in charge of training. He was a fine gentleman with cool head and a pleasant smile. In spite of the heavy task on his shoulders and being put in a situation where almost everything were in short supply, he managed to keep building up the platoons one after another. The 1″, 2nd and 3 platoons from Motinagar were raised by Captain Mahboob. Later he was posted out to join Major Zia to form the “Z” force. When Brigadier Pande with Col. Osmani came to visit us on 15″ of April, Motinagar was bustling with trainees and activity. At lunch time, our boys sat down to eat. Brigadier Pande sat down on the ground along with the boys, picked up a cut out plate and shouted, “Is there anything to bite?” He was also served with the same rice and daal. Brig. Pande asked the gathering if they had anything to say. The boys said they needed more training material and arms. “That’s fine, but don’t you need anything else?” “No sir, You give us arms, rest we will manage.” “Okay, arms you will get. But we will give you plates and glasses as soon as possible.”
———-
16. There he served in 1st East Bengal Regiment and was killed in action
in Kamalpur war.
———-
“Thank you sir. But in that order; arms and then anything else.” Col. Osmani was also present that day. In the meeting he told us, “Gentlemen, we must win this war, or our women will be prostitutes.” Subeder Major Idris was very busy in Motinagar. He was the in charge of store of arms, ration and supplies for the whole sector. One day an Indian Subeder Major came to visit him. The Indian Subeder Major was a huge Sikh with a turban, a big mustache and a chest full of ribbons. Both of them looked equally seasoned. They looked very pleased with each other and were having a hearty conversation over tea in Subeder Major Idris’s tent. I wondered what they would have in common to talk about so merrily. I watched them for a while from a distance. Not so many days ago such a friendly meeting with an Indian Subeder Major would have been inconceivable. The only meeting possible would be in a battlefield and the language spoken would have come out from the barrel of guns. Till 15 May, Liberation forces were sponsored by BSF. From 16″ of May Indian Army took over.
91 BSF Headquarters at Agartala 91 BSF Headquarters became home for the Bengal Regiments fighting in the Eastern Border of Bangladesh. Starting from the early days of the beginning of relationship with India, BSF had looked after the Liberation Army with full support. In spite of it’s limited resources and space, BSF officers smilingly accommodated Freedom Fighter officers permanently stationed at BSF headquarters and those passing through Agartala, joining in for lunch or dinner. BDF or Bangladesh Forces Headquarters or Delta Sector Headquarters was allowed to be established within 91 BSF campus. Later a separate barrack was raised alongside as the size of Bangladesh Forces Headquarters grew. For us, officers from the Sectors, this BSF headquarters was like an open house. Delta sector comprised of four sectors 1,2,3 and 4. Brigadier Sabek Singh, a regular officer of Indian Army was posted as it’s operational chief.

Comilla Boys April ’71

Some of the boys from Comilla City and around often used to come to Srimontopur. They knew the area between Comilla and Sonamura like the back of their hands. They were probably not as smart as some of the Dhaka boys who were already under training in Motinagar. The Dhaka boys were more exposed to the modern world and they spoke better English. Comilla boys were getting in touch only recently and didn’t personally know any of the officers of Sector II while many of the Dhaka boys did. Many of the Comilla boys were trying to get the feel of what was happening. So they were sticking around and trying to get our attention. We picked up a few of them and after light training, four of them were sent to Comilla with hand grenades to explode at different points of the city. There had not been any activity in Comilla town since the Army brutality on 25 March. It was high time we started to make some ripple there, we thought. Three of the grenades exploded after being thrown at the desired locations, one in the railway station, the second in a market, the third at a road junction. But the fourth grenade was lobbed into a school compound but did not explode. Some of the boys in the school told our freedom fighter that he probably did not take out the pin of the grenade before throwing. Our freedom fighter picked up the grenade, took the pin off and threw again. This time, the grenade exploded and made a convincing sound. The students started an uproar and commotion, and the school got closed. On the whole the residents of Comilla and authorities alike were reminded of our presence in and around the city. The grenade throwers were later absorbed in our strength.

Bringing in Family 18 April ’71
Subeder Shahabuddin of EPR, from Bibir Bazar BOP was working as the intelligence officer for Major Khaled. He advised me to send one of these boys to bring information of my family. We chose the one, who had thrown the grenade without pulling the pin out, because he looked very innocent. Even if Pakistan Army did pick him up, they would probably let him go because of his looks. I gave him my father-in-law’s address and off he went. I was in big tension the next day, about what news would be on its way. My envoy returned with good news that my wife was at home. But he could not meet her as my father in law could not trust my envoy and turned him away from the gate. Next day I sent two seasoned boys with a letter. They returned with my wife. It was 18″ April. Mahboob had a big problem to find a bed that night. He often came very late, entered my room, and used to push me aside and lie down flat on my bed. I woke up in the middle of the night when he burst open the door in his usual style. In darkness he was coming straight to the bed with a practiced ease, with a motion to sit down where my wife was sleeping. I had to shout at him ‘Hold it, hold it, and get out. There is a lady in here today’. Mahboob was perplexed at first then understood the situation. He apologized and bolted out of the room in the same speed. He probably spent the rest of the night in his jeep. Dr. Roy and his wife were very happy to learn that my wife Khuku had arrived. They invited my wife to stay with them and asked me to bring her to Sonamura right away. Mrs. Roy insisted that our camp at the border was no place for a lady to stay. Khuku went to Sonamura to stay with Dr. Roy’s family.
110
Death of a Pathan End April ’71

Some of our freedom fighters brought a captured Pathan oneday while returning from a mission. He used to live in some village in Comilla. The man had married a local girl and settled there for over fifteen years. After interrogation nothing wrong could be found with him. There was no proof whatsoever that he was a spy or had contacts with Pakistan Army. Logically we should have let him go. Problem was that he was brought without being blindfolded. Even if he went home directly and kept his mouth shut about what he had seen in our camp, Pakistan Army might find him and get information about the route to our camp. They could force the Pathan to identify faces. It was difficult to let him go. After due consideration it was decided to shoot him. It was very difficult but in the best interest of the liberation struggle we had to take the decision. The Pathan remained blindfolded, and he was not talking much. But his son followed the party and came to the camp. He would be about eight or nine years old. A fair looking healthy young boy. When he guessed what was going to be done with his father, the boy held his father tightly and started crying. It was impossible to separate them. We decided to take the Pathan away when the boy fell asleep. The boy remained awake as long as he could. Then at one time he fell asleep.

Lazy Srimontopur 22 April-8 May ’71 Sector II operational HQ was fully shifted to Motinagar by the end of April. Srimontopur became almost empty. The BSF camp nearby which was so far bustling with activity, full of officers on different purposes in aid to liberation forces, also became empty. Only Capt. Chaturbedi, the camp commander remained. We had friendly relationship with the BSF and visited each other often. I liked the small round hand-made bread called chapati, served hot for dinner at Chaturbedi’s

Place

The three newly arrived officers, Capt. Akbar Hussain, Capt. Aminul Haque and Capt. Zafar Imam were posted at different locations in Sector II. Capt. Aminul Haque at Belonia, Zafar Imam at Rajnagar and Capt. Akbar was sent to Bibir Bazar defense with a group of newly trained boys. But Capt. Akbar normally did not stay in Bibir Bazar. Reza with his platoon of freedom fighters remained in Bibir Bazar defense along with some EPR personnel. I had the whole Srimontopur establishment to my use as the Sector II Tactical HQ had shifted to Motinagar and the school was closed. One soldier from my old unit, 40 Fd. Amb. named Quasem came to India and joined us. He was posted as my Batman. One corporal from EPR, Shamsu Mia was my helping hand. I remained in Srimontopur for medical coverage of the troops south of Sonamura. There used to be almost no work for me after midday. In the evenings Reza used to come from Bibir Bazar, Mahboob came occasionally on his way between Sonamura to Nirbhoypur. My wife Khuku came occasionally and stayed for the night against strong protest from Mrs. Roy who never considered Srimontopur to be a safe place for a lady.

War of Bibir Bazar 9 May ’71

On 9 May I woke up at dawn from the sounds of firing and Mortar shells. I opened the door with sleepy eyes and saw one mortar shell landing just in front of me with a burst with of flash and fire. A tearing metallic sound accompanied the shell. Shells were landing all around and air was filled with gun smoke. Pakistan Army had launched a full-scale attack on Bibir Bazar position and the pressure was coming on to Srimontopur. Khuku came to visit me the day before and now she too was in the midst of a battle. We got ready quickly, came out of the room and went east to put some distance between the mortars and us. We found a village where mortars were not yet reaching. I left my wife there with a family and came back to Srimontopur. Mortar attack and firing further intensified on our position. We were retreating and the Pakistanis were advancing inch by inch. The battle raged on throughout the day. We shifted the MI room further east under an open tent. The wounded were arriving in numbers. I treated some of them locally and sent the rest to Sonamura. Capt. Akbar was in Bibir Bazar position that night. He barely had time to put his pants on when the attack started but he could not find his shirt in the hurry. He was bareback but he had a pillow under his arm all the time he was conducting our response to the Pakistani attack. It was a curious sight. Later he told me that the pillow contained about five thousand rupees, pay for the troops. The same day Capt. Akbar’s wife and children came to Sonamura from Bangladesh.

Anatomy of Fear

Before this day, my personal experience of being in a battle was limited to firing from bunkers or a similar fortification. I had never faced bullets or artillery shells in the open. In civilian life I had a degree of exposure to violence, but I never had to face the business end of a gun. I had taken to my heels on the two occasions where there had been a possibility of shooting. Once in front of Curzon Hall when Raja Hasan Askari’s Mercedes car was burnt down. Troops surrounded Curzon Hall and took position aiming at the crowd with rifles. Another time was during a family feud, when the losing party shouted that he was going to bring his pistol. Mortar shells are more unpredictable. These can fall anywhere and make an unnerving sound. To fight or function under shelling conditions, it is at first very important to get used to the sound and overcome the fear of life. And to advance
towards the direction of bullets, in my opinion, is the test of overcoming fear. In Sector II, routinely, the trainees were placed in trenches in a battlefield. After a few days in such trenches, fear of life generally evaporated. Working normally under shelling conditions became easier. This is what can be termed as battle inoculation. In Sector II battle inoculation was considered to be a very important part of training. I did not have the chance to go through this training before. As a result, while I watched the freedom fighters busy in a flurry of activities within firing lines without any hint of fear. I myself was having cold feet even at the thought of moving towards the direction of the bullets. This made me feel angry with myself. I felt like a misfit. I had to do something about it. I gathered myself together and planned to reach the front line through the barrage of firing. I moved hunched and crawled through bushes and across ditches through bullets and mortar shells. After a while, my brain did not agree with what I was doing. My legs became heavy. I had to stop. Leaning against a tree I had to summon all my courage before going any further. I had to move on to conquer my fear. Then at last, inch by inch, I reached the frontline unhurt. It was quite an experience. Firing stopped in the afternoon. We lost Bibir Bazar. We had many injured and seven dead. Among them were Habilder Jummah, Corporal Mollah of EPR, three Mujahids and two students. Pakistanis (19 Punjab) also suffered heavy casualties, Reportedly three truckloads of their dead bodies were later removed from the battlefield. Rest of our troops were withdrawn and sent to other locations. Lt. Reza was posted to Dhanpur. This was also the end of my stay at Srimontopur.

Khuku’s Experience 9h May ’71

Dr. Roy came over to Srimontopur in Chauhan’s jeep as soon as the firing stopped. He said that Mrs. Roy was angry and had asked to bring Khuku back right away. I was not surprised. We went to the village where I had left Khuku for safety. The village was deserted. The houses were empty and looked lifeless. Someone said, shells started falling on the village around midday. So the inhabitants of the village ran for safety further to the east. To the east were hills and jungle leading to deeper forests with occasional Tipra huts in between. We were confused about what to do. It was getting dark. But we thought, first we should look in the house where I left her. We went to the end of the village. In the growing darkness Khuku was standing alone in front of the house. Khuku recounted her story later. When the shells started falling on the village, the family of the household got ready to leave the place for safer areas. Khuku was in a dilemma as to what to do. She could either go with the family to an unknown destination or remain in the house all by herself to wait. She chose to go. They walked passed the hills into Tipra territory to further east and took shelter in a Tipra house. One shell landed even there. So they all moved further deeper in to the hills. This time, including the Tipra family. According to Khuku, the group was a unique scenario. A Bengali family from Srimontopur with their herd of cows and goats, a Tipra family with their pigs and chickens and a solitary Bangladeshi army officer’s wife, all running away from Pakistani shelling. But another shell landed just ahead of them on dry grass and a fire started instantly. That helped Khuku to make up her mind. She decided that there was no point in running into uncertainties like this. Later it would be difficult to find the way back. So she turned back towards Srimontopur and reached the village where I had left her. We returned to Sonamura in Chauhan’s jeep. Most of the evacuated patients were taken to a forest rest house on the bank of the river. Indian Forest authorities gave us a portion of their rest house, to accommodate our injured. One Bangladeshi physician Doctor Nazim, who had recently arrived in Motinagar, took care of the patients at the rest house. Lucky for us, Dr. Nazim had his surgical instruments with him. These were well put to use for the bullet injuries. Later these instruments became part of our hospital.
116
Book 4.
Growth of Sector II
Sonamura Forest Rest House

With Bibir Bazar war, medical service in Sector II passed its infancy and entered into a new phase. In the forest rest house, some space was available to lay beds for admitting patients and we could give them medical or surgical treatment. The location of the rest house was convenient for patients from different sub-sectors. Major Khaled approved our effort to develop the rest house in Sonamura as a hospital for the Sector. I was allowed to stay on in the rest house to look after the medical facility. I also had an additional job to equip and supervise MI Rooms in different sub-sectors. For me it was convenient to stay in town instead of in Motinagar. To organize medical coverage for a warring army in a foreign land required supporting hands from different local bodies and organizations. Staying in town helped me to meet and come into contact with the right kind of people in Sonamura and Agartala. Our Signal Company installed a field telephone at our Hospital linking with Motinagar. After a few weeks in India, we were getting oriented with the new country and people. A Nursing Subeder from AMC (Army Medical Corps.) Abdul Mannan and some other AMC personnel were posted to our medical facility. After Subeder Mannan joined, work in the hospital became systematic. Documentation in the hospital began. We started maintaining files on each patient, temperature and fluid inputoutput charts were maintained. Round the clock medical care was introduced as the number of trained AMC personnel increased. With Sub. Mannan’s initiative and with Khaled’s approval we gave a drive to identify and select AMC personnel though it was sometimes difficult for me to understand. They never tried to speak the standard Bengali dialect because they believed it would be bad manners to speak in a broken accent. Bahar and Jamal were two active, high-spirited boys. They always tried to do a little more than their assignment. One day I sent them into Bangladesh to bring some medicine. They came back with a Mazda pick up truck complete with the driver and a full pharmacy loaded in the back. My old vehicle was taken away by Captain Mahboob of Nirbhoypur sub-sector, so I registered the pick up at Sector II Headquarters and got it issued to the Hospital. Driver Gafur, who had driven the hijacked pick-up from Comilla at gunpoint, chose to remain with us as the driver.
A Swelling Township Sonamura The small township of Sonamura continued to swell with refugees. Being easily accessible from Comilla, Sonamura was a major route of escape from occupied Bangladesh. It became a major communication center and transit point. But living accommodations were limited in the town, so most of the refugees took shelter under the trees, on the roadside or wherever they found a place to sit down. Local authorities could not cope with the situation. International agencies came to their assistance with provisions of food and accommodation. Most of the refugees were taken to newly established camps at different locations. The willing and young were sent to youth camps. Youth camps were under supervision of Bangladeshi MNA (Member of National Assembly) or Awami league leaders. Training camps were set up at different locations to create Freedom Fighters. Indian Army was in-charge of the training camps. Recruits for military training came mainly from the youth camps. Recruits were required to be certified by the local MP or an Awami League leader. Many of the boys who wanted to fight against Pakistani occupation came directly to Mukti Bahini for training. In Sector II, the recommendation from a politician was not a prerequisite for admission at Motinagar Training Camp. This system helped those who had no party affiliations to enroll in the Liberation Army.

Disposition of Officers in Sector H

With 4 E. Bengal Regiment spread all over the sub-sectors of Sector II, our strength constantly increased with personnel from regular army units defecting from Pakistan occupation, EPR, Navy and Air Force. Among others were retired defense personnel, Police and Ansars. Then there were freshly trained recruits. On the whole it was a sizable strength by the end of May. Sector II was divided into a number of sub-sectors along the border from Singerbil at the northeastern border of Comilla to Rangamura, at the southeast of Noakhali. Simultaneously our guerrilla activity was spreading throughout Dhaka, Comilla, Noakhali and parts of Faridpur district. Disposition of Officers in May was as follows: Lt. Harun in Singerbil, Capt. Ainuddin in Montola, Capt. Salek In Shaldanadi, Capt. Gaffar in Konabon, Cadet Humayun Kabir in Kasba, Capt. Didarul Alam in Motinagar, Lt. Reza in Bibir Bazar, Capt. Kabir in Dhanpur, Capt. Mahboob in Nirbhoypur, Capt. Aminul Haque in Belonia, Capt. Zafar Imam in Rajnagar and Lt. Imamuzzaman was in Rangamura. In the headquarters and training camp at Motinagar were Major Shafaat Jamil, Capt. Haider and Capt. Mahboob (24 FF.). Capt. Matin after returning from Chittagong duty remained in Sector HQ as BM (Brigade Major). I was in Sonamura with the medical establishment.
Capt. Aminul Haque, Capt. Akbar, Major Shafaat and Capt. Mahboob (24 FF.) went out on posting to other sectors or battalions in the early stages. Many more joined Sector II or passed through, in transit to other sectors or battalions. Major Nurul Islam (Sishu) often used to be in our Sector HQ, Capt. Malek of EME (Electrical Mechanical Engineering) came and remained in Sector II as Quarter Master. Capt. Ashraf stayed in Sector II HQ for a long time and so did Capt. Shaheed of Signals. Later when Mujib battery was formed in Sector II. Capt. Pasha was posted in its command. Major Shawkat Ali Mia of Agartala conspiracy case joined our sector as training officer. Some air force officers passed through Sector II at different times.

Sonamura May-June ’71

In Sonamura, our medical establishment became a part of the town scenario and a landmark for freedom fighters. Our Hospital was the only establishment of Sector II located in a built-up area accessible to general public. Rest of the units like Headquarter and sub-sectors were located away from townships and were inaccessible without proper authorization. Location of this Forest Rest House where we had our hospital was interesting. It was situated alongside the embankment of the river, facing the road on the embankment leading to the ferry. Whoever went by this road towards the ferry on foot or on a jeep, had to pass us by when we sat on the varanda of the rest house, which we usually did on the lazy days. If the passer by was a known person, we greeted each other, and some times they dropped in for a chit chat over a cup of tea. Among regular visitors, Captain Mahboob and Capt. Kabir with their sidekicks, on their way to or from their sub-sectors in Nirbhoypur and Dhanpur, always dropped off at our place for some time. Major Khaled usually came in the evening. There were some Indian Army units in Sonamura. A Medium gun battery was under Major Sundaram’s command. A Punjab
122
regiment stationed in Sonamura was under command of Lt. Col. Pritam Singh. Major Chauhan and Major Bharat Bhusan were from BSF. Captain Uttam was from one of these army units. Except for Pritam Singh, all other officers used to come to the rest house for a chitchat at least once a day. Some teachers from local High Schools like Mr. Amjad from Srimontopur and Bishu babu from Melaghar often visited us. Conservator of Forest Mr. Noresh Bhattacharjee used to come two three times a week. From his own fund he arranged to make a few toilets for our patients and staff use in the rest house compound. Two rooms of the rest house remained under lock and key under Forest control. Before long the hospital became a communication center for freedom fighters and a landmark for the escapee gentries from East Pakistan. This was specially helpful for many of my friends in Dhaka and their friends and their friends and so on. Most of these people had liberal progressive views without political affiliations. They wanted to join the liberation war against Pakistan Army like any conscientious Bengali from East Pakistan. Most of them came to Sonamura through different routes and were sent to Motinagar for training. Two senior Air Force Officers, Group Captain Khondkar and Wing Commander Basher came with their families. They stayed with us in the Forest Rest House for one night and left for Agartala. Lt. Col. Zaman’s wife, Mrs. Sultana Zaman with their two daughters Naila and Lubna, came one day. We had worked together during 1970 cyclone in Barisal. I offered them to stay in Sonamura and work in the hospital, but they moved on with Lt. Col. Zaman to Sector VII, where they worked in a similer medical establishment. Major Khaled’s family was brought by Badal and Kazi. Wife of Major Nurul Islam Sishu with her two little daughters were brought to Sonamura by Habibul Alam. The family had to be literally hijacked from Pakistan Army Custody. Capt. Matin’s family were brought from Chittagong by Manzoor an Ishtiaq Aziz Ulfat. Some of these families remained in Sonamura/Malaghar area and some went to Agartala, like Major Khaled’s family was accommodated in Agartala in a BSF offier’s bunglow. Eventually most of these families went off to Calcutta.

Fateh Ali and Bakul 1-12 May ’71
The freedom fighters used to reach Motinagar in different ways and means. Fateh Ali was a student of English in Dhaka University. He watched the Burt Lancaster movie “The Train on 24” March and his conviction deepened that nothing was more important than the lives of fellow countrymen. On 25 March he heard the sounds of firing during army crackdown in Dhaka City. The milkman who supplied milk to their family told him next morning that an innocent bystander from the locality died and his dead body was still lying on the street. He was a victim of indiscriminate killing by Pakistan army. Fateh was never particularly affectionate to the dead man but as a fellow countryman, this wanton killing hurt his pride. He decided that he must take revenge. To do that he had to join some armed resistance group but there was not any that he knew of. Fateh met some of his friends who also had similar thoughts. They were thinking what to do and how. At first they heard rumours that some Bengali troops from Pakistan army had rebelled and were fighting against Pakistan army somewhere in the countryside. It was not known where the Bengal Regiments would be, how to join them and if it is possible to join them. Yet they decided to give it a try. The easiest way out from Dhaka was to go across Buriganga River to Jinjira. With a few friends Fateh went to Jinjia which was not yet invaded by Pakistan Army. There, nobody could say anything about the fighting Bengal Regiments but someone said that he had seen a couple of uniformed men in a village few miles away. Fateh and his friends went to that village and found two persons who probably survived army massacres at Rajarbagh police line or Pilkhana EPR lines. They were giving tall stories and were being well looked after by the villagers. When asked if they knew about any Bengal regiment resistance activity anywhere, people were suspicious of Fateh and his group and started asking counter questions. Fateh and his friends hotfooted from there before situation got any worse and were back straight to Dhaka. Weeks passed by without any activity. One thing was for sure that first of all they would have to go to India. But India is on all sides around Bangladesh except for Bay of Bengal to the south. In the meantime information came that his friend Akhtar, the newly married Medic from Avoy Das Lane who joined army is with the Bengal regiment somewhere near Agartala. Another childhood friend from K.M. Das Lane, Salek who was in regular army sent a note by hand of his younger brother Matin. The note said “Johnny, come over. I am in India.” Matin said, Salek was somewhere near Agartala. For Fateh, it was now a prestige issue. With two of his friends already in Mukti Bahini, he could not risk his name to be posted as a yellow-bellied coward. With Bakul, Maya and some others they decided to go to Agartala. It was end April. They planned to go to Maya’s village home somewhere in the midway. From there they would find further routes. They boarded a river launch at Sadarghat to go to Maya’s village and were waiting for the launch to start, when another friend Kazi came running to them. Kazi had not been taken into confidence before, so he did not know about their plans. But at the last moment he was tipped off that the group was heading to India. Kazi also wanted to join the party, but others at first denied of their real intention and said they were going to Maya’s home for a holiday. But Kazi did not buy the story and insisted that they take him along. Then they agreed but asked how much money he had with him. Nobody will be allowed to with less than 100 rupees. Kazi did not have 100 rupees in his pocket. He begged for a loan. But nobody could spare 100 rupees as everybody had a tight fund position. Then Kazi told them to hold off for a few minutes he would be back soon. Within ten minutes he was back with a smiling face. He had the required sum in his pocket. “Where did you get it from?” They asked. Kazi said he sold his Seiko 5 wristwatch for 250 rupees, which was worth much more. So the gang got going. On the way they played cards and gambled but only among themselves, so that no matter who won the money, it would remain within the group. Through a tortuous and eventful journey, they reached India in the first week of May. After crossing the border at a point not far from Motinagar, they went to the Hatimara youth camp, nearby. When Fateh and his friends introduced themselves as university students, someone in the youth camp told them to go to College Tilla in Agartala, which would be more befitting for educated people. The boys in the youth camp they said, were a more uneducated lot. Hatimara was at the end of a track road coming from Sonamura. A diversion from that road led to Motinagar. At the diversion point there were some shops. Fateh saw Badal at one of the shops. Badal was also a student in Dhaka University but they did not know each other well. The group had no idea of Motinagar training camp at that time. So they went on to Sonamura. From there they came to Agartala.

College Tilla

College Tilla was a modern neighborhood in Agartala with a number of educational institutes and hostels. Many Civil Servants and politicians of mainly leftist parties from Bangladesh were accommodated in these buildings and were being well looked after by Indian Government agencies. There were also some students from Dhaka University. Fateh met some friends who helped him find a room for the group. They huddled together for the night. In College Tilla, they did not get any direction how to contact with Bengal Regiments or any armed resistance group. So the next few days they spent without any activity and were getting frustrated. Most of the Bangladeshis living there seemed to be happy to just stay put as it were. They did not know anything on the whereabouts of Bengal Regiments, nor were they interested in such matters let alone having contacts with them. With every day that passed, Fateh and his friends from Dhaka were getting frustrated and their fund position was getting squeezed. At one point they contemplated returning back to Dhaka and do something meaningful there rather than sitting idle in Agartala. The best information they could gather so far was that Bengal regiment was operating somewhere along the border and Sonamura. Fateh linked up this information with seeing Badal on the way from border to Sonamura. Badal might be able to help if they could find Badal once again, though the chances were remote. In any case they wanted to give it a try before returning back to Bangladesh. Next morning Fateh and Bakul set out for Sonamura in the general direction where they first saw Badal. Rest of the group waited in College Tilla. Fateh and Bakul could not locate anything. They kept going towards the border without any direction. BSF apprehended them moving aimlessly in a war zone. BSF asked them in Hindi what they were doing there. Fateh did not know Hindi. So he asked Bakul to reply. Bakul’s Hindi was worse. He made a mess of what he was trying to say and confused the BSF. Then Fateh spoke in English which the BSF soldiers understood. Then they were taken to a BSF NCO who spoke English well. After learning that Fateh was a university student, BSF brought them to Sonamura to BSF headquarters. The BSF JCO asked them if they knew any Bangladesh Army officer. Fateh said he knew two. Capt. Salek and Capt. Akhtar. But he did not know where they were. When Fateh mentionedabout Capt. Akhtar of Army Medical Corps, the BSF JCO went to talk to an officer. When he came back he asked Fateh if Capt. Akhtar’s wife would recognize him. Fateh was confused. He did not know Khuku as my wife though his younger sister Jhimli was Khuku’s classmate. But Bakul jumped up, ‘Yes! Of course she would know me.’ It was through Bakul’s girlfriend that I had met Khuku. So he knew her all right. Still they could not be sure if BSF was talking about the same Akhtar or his wife. If it was different or if Khuku did not recognize them then they would be in deep trouble. It was getting dark. Fateh and Bakul just wanted to get out of the jam, go back to Agartala and return to Dhaka. BSF took them to Dr. Roy’s house for identification by Khuku. Dr. Roy came out of the house and was talking to them when Khuku heard their voices and recognized them. She came out excitedly and asked about news from Home. It was a great relief for Fateh and Bakul to be off the hook. They went back to Agartala leaving a note for me. Next day I went to College Tilla to meet them. Fateh and about ten of his friends including Bakul, Maya, Gazi Dastogir and Kazi came to Sonamura on my pick up truck. They spent the night with me at the Forest Rest House. Next morning all of them were enlisted in Motinagar training camp.

Manzoor and Ulfat 1-14 May ’71 My younger brother Manzoor and his friend Ulfat had another story. They used to sell Bangladesh flags in Dhaka helped by Manzoor’s elder sister and cousins Ansara and Mohsina before the crackdown. Manzoor (he already dumped his ticket to fly to Karachi air base on 8″ March 1971 to join the 57 GDP) and his friends Ulfat and Shelly set out from Dhaka on 22 April and went towards Satkhira where Shelly’s folks lived. Shelly stayed back in Satkhira while the other two continued their journey towards the border. Muslim league had strong hold in those areas so they were passing through hostile territories. At one point they came very close to falling into the hands of Pakistan Army. Eventually they managed to cross the border and went to Calcutta. Many of my relatives lived in West Bengal. They requested Manzoor and Ulfat to stay back in Calcutta and offered them help so that they can set up some business. But Manzoor and Ulfat were not interested. They were looking for an opportunity to enroll in the Liberation forces. But it was not possible to do that in Calcutta. Manzoor came to know about my whereabouts when I sent the cable to my uncle in West Bengal. Manzoor and Ulfat arranged a free pass from Indian Railway. They came to Dharmanager across West Bengal, Assam and Tripura. From there they came to Agartala by bus and eventually reached Sonamura on 16″ of May. Manzoor and Ulfat both joined Motinagar training Camp on the 17h Group Captain Khondkar and Wing Cdr. Basher, the two senior most serving Bengali officers in Pakistan Air Force, arrived Sonamura with their families on the same day the 16″ of May and spent the night with us in the Rest House. The next day they left for Agartala. Bara-Tajpur and Muslims of West Bengal 16 – 22 May ’71 The Airfare between Calcutta and Agartala was cheaper than Calcutta-Gauhati because before the hostilities started, the flight was direct and over-flew East Pakistan Territories. Currently the flight was operating at the same fare by way of Gauhati though Gauhati-Calcutta fare was more. Khuku and I took a flight from Agartala to Calcutta on 18th of May.

I was born in Bara-Tajpur, a prosperous village outside Calcutta. In Howrah-Bardwan train route called ‘Chord line Bara-Tajpur is six stops away from Howrah. Name of the train station is Begumpur. On one side of railway line was village Begumpur with a Hindu majority and on the other side was Bara-Tajpur with a Muslim majority. We reached Bara-Tajpur at night. My Nani (mother’s mother) was alive and well. It was the first time that they all met my wife, so there was a lot to celebrate about and many questions to be asked. It was late before the first welcome session ended. My father’s family home was the next homestead from my mother’s. Chacha Babu (my father’s elder brother) was home. Chacha Babu was a kind and compassionate person. He was much older than my father was. I respected and loved him very much. I told Chacha-Babu about the raw deal that Pakistanis gave us, and now it was impossible to stay together with them. He understood our plight. He condemned whoever was responsible for the present situation. But he also prayed for one Pakistan rather than a divided one. I couldn’t blame him. For him it was a betrayal of the 1947 cause, which they fought for. The values in his world had not changed. There couldn’t be any argument to loosen his unshakable faith in one Pakistan. Muslims in West Bengal considered Pakistan as a potential sanctuary. Breaking up of Pakistan for whatever cause, was a bad news for them. So they were not exactly thrilled about the Bangladesh movement. Philosophy of Hindus in West Bengal was different. They were mostly excited and enthusiastic about the war in our favour. They backed us up wholeheartedly with full support and encouragement. The reasons are not entirely because they enjoyed watching Pakistan being dismembered like god-send, rather it was because they found in us something which they always dreamed to have, but could hardly ever bring off: The
130
spirit of Bengali Nationalism; fighting the cultural and linguistic subjugation. Indian Bengalis shared the pride of our fighting back against the ruling and controlling moneyed nonBengalis, while they themselves could not do much against the subjugation by moneyed controlling power from outside west Bengal. Either in Calcutta or in Begumpur, people somehow, always recognized me as a Bangladeshi from the war front. May be from my looks, long hair and whiskers or whatever. They respected people directly involved in the liberation war. On many occasions in Calcutta or Begumpur they took me aside and wanted to know the real situation out there at the front. West Bengal Middle Class in general, was not so sure about the fighting style of many Bangladeshis living in Calcutta luxuriously and yet called themselves Freedom Fighters. To the high thinking and plain living West Bengal middle class, the extravagant life style of many Bangladeshis living in Calcutta was a cultural shock.

Hindus from Bangladesh

As the Hindus and Muslims of W. Bengal had different perceptions of the Liberation war, the Hindus and Muslims of Bangladesh also had differences in their perception of the war. Following the crackdown in March ’71, Pakistan Army singled out and targeted mainly Hindus and pro-liberation population to be their major target. As a result about ten million people mostly Hindus, had taken refuge in India. Among the refugees only about five percent were Muslims. But among freedom fighters, majority were Muslims. Hindus were only about five percent. This gross disproportion was very much noticeable. In casual conversation Indian Army authorities expressed concern about the poor representation of Hindus in the liberation forces though in the refugee camps they were the staggering majority. In order to minimize this disproportion we gave occasional drives for recruitment from the refugee camps, but the response was generally in the negative.

Motinagar to Melaghar June ’71

In the month of June, our headquarters and training center were shifted from Motinagar to Melaghar. Motinagar was too close to the border; too exposed and vulnerable to possible surprise attack from Pakistan. And there could be other reasons for the move that I didn’t know. Melaghar was on the main road between Sonamura to Agartala, about a mile from the main road connected by a jeepable track The shifting was done in one day. The trainee boys were ordered to march. And they marched. Sonamura was on the way. They had some water to drink at Sonamura then they marched again all the way to Melaghar. At the entrance of the camp in Malaghar, there was Subeder Major Idris’s establishment of food and supplies. It was a huge affair. The track went on to pass by officers’ mess area at an elevation. Beyond officers’ mess was a large complex of thatched houses, with walls of braided bamboo fibers, and tents. Complete with a cookhouse and a dining room. There were separate areas for office, MI Room, MF and FF troops, trainees living area and training ground. An underground Ops. (Operation) room was dug underneath Major Khaled’s tent. Activity in Melaghar increased manifold with every day that passed. The major activities of our sector were: 1. To coordinate activities of the sub-sectors. 2. Supply of arms, ammunitions and supplies to sub-sectors 3. To coordinate with Delta Sector headquarters at Agartala. 4. To plan and execute various guerrilla activities in Dhaka and the countryside. 5. To continue training activity. Melaghar was an improvement on Motinagar in every respect, especially on the living and working conditions of trainees. Here we had rows of barracks made of forest resources, with raised beds on bamboo poles with ground sheets for each bed. Each trainee had his own plate and glass. Drinking water came from a protected pond. Most of the open toilets were gradually turned into closed pits. Food quality improved and supply became regular with Indian support, although we used to have perpetual shortages as the number of trainees used to be at least double of what we declared to the Indians. We used to make up for the shortages with our own resources. Our officers were given a pocket allowance of 400 rupees per month. All other enrolled personnel and freedom fighters also received some pocket allowance. In Sector II we all contributed 50% of our allowances for the training program. Discipline and work schedule of the training camp was at par with any training institution. Reveille was at six in the morning. After a whole night’s mosquito bite, sleep only deepened at dawn when they had the whistle to wake up, with a NCO shouting in half darkness. They had to be ready by six thirty for roll call. Breakfast was between seven and eight. Eight to twelve was training time, lunch from twelve to one. Then rest for two hours. Three to five was again training time followed by tea. After tea there were games. Dinnertime was between six and seven. After dinner was free time or optional study period. Boys used to listen to the radio, some liked music, or recitation. Some joined in group discussions on various topics. Major Shawkat Ali’ often came to the barracks, read out stories of famous battles, and discussed different issues. Last whistle went off at eight-thirty. Then again fall-in and roll call before going to bed. Captain Haider had an additional program of specialized commando training with selected boys. He used to prepare them for special purposes like using explosives and timer devices, making bombs, effective ways to blow up different objects, destroying communication lines, survival training, physical fitness, evaluation, organization and execution. Making the best use of his own commando training, he remained busy in preparing hundreds of Bangladeshi commandos. With the combination of courage, physical fitness, education, discipline and training, our fighting and striking strength steadily increased. Getting in and out of the camp was difficult. There used to be sentries all round. At night, sentries used to be very alert like in any war situation. Sentries were ordered to “Halt” and “Hands up” anyone coming in without information. One had to know the password or there would be no entry. But one sentry had an unfortunate experience when he challenged a particular officer. The officer got furious. He claimed that the sentry did this knowingly to humiliate him. He started beating the sentry mercilessly. He only stopped when he got tired. The sentry wreathed and moaned in pain. This incident was never reported though it was a very cowardly act. The officer responsible however used to be avoided by most. Food for trainees was very modest. Breakfast was the usual
————
17. Major Shawkat Ali was a defendant of Agartala Conspiracy Case. Since
then till joining the Liberation War he was out of Army. In post war Bangladesh He became a Colonel in Bangladesh Army. Later he joined politics and became a member of parliament and deputy Speaker.
———-
puri and tea. Lunch used to be rice and daal. Not the best quality rice and the daal used to be more water than daal. Once in a while there would be a bit of vegetable curry. Sometimes the curry got burnt. It had been reported that if the curry got burnt, the boys sometimes dumped the whole bucket on the tent of JCO in-charge. Later a vegetable curry became a regular feature and meat was served twice a week. Fish was rare. Sometimes the boys in small groups managed some fish from nearby rivulets and helped themselves with it. But these were off the record. On the whole, nobody complained. That by and large all the needs were taken care of was enough to keep the boys happy. Only thing they ever asked for was arms and ammunitions. Col. Osmani came to Melaghar a number of times. He always used to have a meeting with the trainees and wanted to know if they had any problems. The freedom fighters never had any personal complaint. Once after a lot of persuasion, one fellow replied, ‘Sir, please do something about these mosquitoes. It seems they will never leave us alone.’ Everybody laughed out loud including Col. Osmani. In that meeting, two freedom fighters informed Col. Osmani, that during their last operation they got hold of some money and some gold. But their leader kept the items for himself and threatened the others to keep quiet about it or else. The boys told Osmani about it and requested for protection. Osmani ordered Khaled to look into the matter and inform him about the action taken within twenty-four hours. The leader was apprehended the same day, the booty was recovered and he was punished. Ground rules for violation of discipline were simple and harsh. Dr. Nazim remained in Melaghar headquarters MI Room. There was another small medical center for the trainees in the training area. Fourth year medical student Zubair was the
135
medical officer in-charge there. This was in a tent with two beds on the slope of a hill. Ailments like loose motion; dysentery, allergy and ordinary cough and cold patients were serviced from here. Zubair used to be the doctor, medical asst. and nurse, all in one, for this center.

Political Affiliation of Trainees in Melaghar

Most of the trainees in Malaghar/Motinagar were either students or simple villagers. Majority of them during preLiberation war days was not involved with any party or politics. Some of them might have had party affiliations. But after the crackdown, all the political ambitions for most people boiled down to one thing, fight against Pakistan. In Sector 2, like in all other sectors under Bangladesh Forces, our allegiance was to the Bangladesh flag and the Bangladesh Government in exile. Our sole objective was to free Bangladesh from Pakistan. This matched well with the objectives of the trainees. So in Melaghar culture, conventional politics became a non-issue. Only politics that remained was to get trained to fight to liberate the Country. Party affiliation or recommendation was not a factor for admission in Melaghar training camp. Most other training camps for freedom fighters were under Indian Army supervision. There the trainees had to be channeled through youth camps. Admission to the youth camps and training camps was restricted to those with a recommendation from a political leader or a Member of Parliament. As a result unless one had rapport with the political grapevine, it would have been difficult for an ordinary volunteer to join in as a freedom fighter. But there were far too many patriotic fighting materials outside the political grapevine to be ignored. Many of them either did not have the acquaintance to get the recommendations or did not care to run after one.

They came to Melaghar. In Melaghar one just had to be a patriot and physically fit in the eyes of the recruiting officer. I heard that Indian intelligence agencies arranged training for different political factions at separate training camps for whatever purposes, but these had no link with Bangladesh Forces or forces under Bangladesh Government.

Nayabazar Rural health Center End May ’71

With increasing activity in the sector, the number of patients coming to the hospital increased. We had the space and trained manpower from Army to do the nursing, but we had a serious shortage of medical/surgical equipment and supplies. For medicine my major source was 91 BSF and later the Delta sector HQ which was adjacent to the 91 BSF HQ. There was always Comilla of course, for any shortage. Lt. Mahboob informed me about the rural health center at Nayabazar. It was not very far across the border from his location at Nirbhoypur. Rural health centers were regular hospitals at the Thana level. Normally it would contain enough medical equipment, instruments and medicines to serve my purpose. We planned and went to Nirbhoypur. From there with about fifty or so freedom fighters we went to Nayabazar through forest, paddy fields and villages, across the border. It was a quiet moonlit night. The villages were sleeping. On a typical night no one was to be found outside except for freedom fighters. They had the countryside to themselves at night. Pakistan Army, even if located anywhere around, would not normally come out from their shelters at these unholy hours. We passed through the roads noiselessly with practiced ease and came to the Comilla Chittagong highway. There were some shops with shutter closed. There was no traffic. Some lights of vehicular movement could be seen at a distance to the west towards Chandpur. After reaching the hospital compound, we posted some guards around and knocked at the closed gate. The watchman came out with a lantern in hand. He had problem with one leg and was walking with a crutch. He opened the gate for us. The hospital was a fairly large concrete two-storied affair with a number of living quarters around. We told the gatekeeper that we needed whatever there was in the hospital. He brought out the keys. The store was full of blankets, bed sheets, all kinds of surgical instruments, hospital equipment, medicine, gauze, bandages and everything else that could be needed for a hospital including an operation table, OT lights, a microscope and a large kerosene operated freezer. Before returning from the hospital I left a note with the guard saying, “The hospital provisions are received with thanks for Bangladesh Liberation Forces use.’ signed, for Bangladesh Army Medical Corps. The cargo was carried on head load across the border to Nirbhoypur and on to Sonamura before daybreak.

Medical Facilities in Sub-sectors May-July ’71

As the sub-sectors became increasingly active, number of injured and other ailments increased. Requirement for medical coverage also increased. Major Khaled gave me the responsibility to organize medical coverage for our sector. I had to visit all the sub-sectors, mostly with Major Khaled in his jeep or separately in my pickup. Khaled ordered me to make these visits as frequently as possible. He used to say, “You must make time to visit these sub-sectors the same way as I do. Remember that we must ensure medical coverage and care for the injured. You can not sit tight in the hospital.” I tried to accompany him as frequently as I could. Most of the sub-sectors arranged a medical unit of it’s own with a medical officer or paramedic or we sent one from the Sector. Dr. Nazim remained at sector HQ, Zubair at the
training camp. Dr. Forhan was at Montola with Capt. Ainuddin, Ali Hafiz Salim with Capt. Salek at Shaldanadi, Lutfar was at Konabon, Mansoor at Kasba, Rashid at Nirbhoypur and Subeder Faruk of AMC was at Rangamura with Lt. Imamuzzaman. Dr. Emran was at Rajnagar youth camp, which was adjacent to our sub-sector, and looked after our patients. Salim, Rashid, Mansoor and Lutfar were final year or 4 year MBBS students.

Medical Supplies May-October ’71

Officially our medical supply came from Bangladesh Government sources through Delta Sector Headquarters at Agartala and the supply was equally distributed among the four sectors. The supply comprised of gauze, bandage, shell dressing, antiseptics, some antibiotics, aspirin, sulfur drugs and vitamins, essentially to treat minor ailments and minor injuries. Quantity was very limited in comparison to our actual requirements, especially in our effort to provide total medical coverage to all the sub-sectors of Sector II. So we had to look for other sources of supply. The equipment and other provisions we collected from Nayabazar Rural Health Center came in handy to furnish our hospital and sub-sector medical centers. The provisions and medicines were of great help but we needed much more. Agartala GB Hospital was a big source for medical supplies for us. The chief of the hospital, Dr. Dutt was sympathetic to our cause. He made an arrangement by which he could sanction medical supplies from the Red Cross and international donor agencies, for us against our requisition. The hospital authorities also arranged a separate ward in the hospital for freedom fighters where war injuries from all sectors were admitted. G.B. Hospital surgeon Dr. Roy Choudhury was a good friend. He used to go out of his way to help us, and it was fully on a personal initiative. He always came over to Sonamura when I called him for difficult cases. Normally whenever I went to Agartala with a list of my requirements, I went first to Dr. Roy Chowdhury and together, we used to figure out how to get them. Whatever supplies we received from the BDF HQ and Red Cross sources were fine, the rest we usually pinched from G.B. Hospital store. This became an open secret. On one occasion, Roy Choudhury and myself while emerging from the hospital store with four large bottles full of antibiotic capsules under our arms, fell in front of a hospital guard. The guard knew exactly what was happening. He seemed to be more in trouble than we were. He looked the other way while we passed through. Christian mission churches in Agartala gave us powder milk and vitamins. From international aid agencies we arranged mosquito nets, blankets, bed sheets, pillows, plates and glasses, plastic sheets and ground sheets. It was all a matter of keeping correct information and going to the right places. With all these we were able to satisfy our medical and some logistic requirements for our main Hospital and the Sub-sector medical centers.

Lulu and Tulu 16 June ’71

On 16″ June a large group came over from Dhaka with Lulu and Tulu among them. Their real names were Sultana Kamal and Syeda Kamal, but we always called them by their nicknames. Lulu studied English at Dhaka University and Tulu was in Art College. Both were daughters of Begum Sufia Kamal, the famous poet. Tulu had worked with me during relief efforts in 1970 and with Lulu we had acquintance through Tulu. Their mother Begum Sufia Kamal became very fond of me and my wife during relief work in southern Bengal following the 1970 cyclone. After the crackdown on 25 March, Lulu and Tulu had been working in Dhaka as contacts
140
or persons and families who wished to come across to India from occupied Dhaka. Eventually they themselves felt insecure to remain in Dhaka and decided to cross over like other civilian groups they helped to escape. They had information about my being in Sonamura. Lulu and Tulu decided to come to Sonamura and join the war of Liberation in some capacity. In Sonamura they did not have any problem finding me. When I offered them to join me in hospital work, they readily agreed while other members of the party decided to move on to Agartala and eventually to Calcutta. Shahadat, Fateh’s elder brother also came with them. He also decided to stay over with us in Sonamura. Shahadat was an artist and had journalistic background. He said that the name Khaled Musharraf was being whispered more and more in Dhaka City as a hero of Bengal Regiment who was leading the guerrilla warfare against Pakistan Army along the eastern border. Squadron Leader Hamidullah, his wife and two children came with the group. The family stayed with us for the night to rest. Problem was I did not have enough room to accommodate everybody, specially the family. The Conservator of forest Mr. Noresh Bhattacharjee had already given us full support and all the space he could spare. The condition he made with us was that we would not intrude into the locked rooms of the rest house. Normally we entered the closed rooms through a communicating door at night and by early morning we cleaned up and vacated the rooms before anybody knew, or at least we thought so. But Mrs. Hamidullah and the two wailing children in that room would be too loud for any kind of discretion. We put the family in there anyway. Lulu and Tulu slept in the other room. Shahadat, Bahar, Jamal and Taher and myself slept on the verandah. Next day we were helping the family pack for departure to Agartala. We hoped to get the place cleaned up before the Conservator arrived. But it was no use. Suddenly there were sounds of footsteps, the lock was opened from outside and the Conservator of Forest entered the room with a very grim face, following him were his peon, orderly and other entourage while the two children were crying at the top of their voices. In a grave voice the Conservator charged, “What’s going on here?” Being caught red handed I tried other means to pacify him. Mr. Bhattacharjee was a softhearted man. Normally whenever we narrated a touchy incident he would make sympathetic gestures and exclamations like “Oh!” and “Ah!”. I thought if I could bring out some of those “Ohs” and “Ahs” from him by telling him the plight of the family with two ailing children, then probably I could get out of the jam momentarily. And so I did. Within minutes Mr. Bhattacharjee started making his usual interjections and at one point just walked out of the room with his troops following behind. The room came to our open possession from that day. Lulu and Tulu expressed their desire to work in the hospital alright, but I needed Khaled’s permission to accommodate them. I had Khaled’s mandate to take all kinds of decisions within my working field. I knew Khaled would accept my proposals. I also knew, he would back me up if I made any honest mistake. I always briefed Khaled fully on whatever was going on and took post facto sanctions. The system worked very well. When Khaled came in the evening, I introduced Lulu and Tulu to Khaled and told him that they wanted to work here in the Hospital. How about starting nursing service with them! Khaled liked the idea. He encouraged Lulu and Tulu to do this noble job. He also told them to get more volunteers from Dhaka if they could.

Khaled became interested to talk to Shahadat in details because Sahadat had journalistic background. He invited Shahadat to come over to Melaghar for further discussion. With Lulu and Tulu’s arrival and their joining forces with us in the hospital, another dimension in our service to the patients was established. For the first time we were able to provide real nursing with a sister’s care, in addition to medication. Psychological comfort is a very important component of treatment to any one falling sick in a strange land away from home. The best way to provide that comfort is through female nursing. Nursing with lovirly care for patients is an age-old trait of Bengali womenfolk. They are nurses by instinct. Lulu and Tulu were no exception. With that in-born quality they already knew half the trade. The other half, like using a thermometer, BP instrument, giving injection (I almost had frozen shoulers from the number of injection pricks these ladies practiced on my upper arms) and other medication, cleaning wounds and dressing; they learnt in a week and joined for regular duties along with other hospital staff. It was also the beginning of Bangladesh Hospital. Historically speaking, by coming to S namura and volunterily joining in the war, Lulu and Tulu had broken an age old barrier and pioneered an inroad to the war for women and formed a nucleus which many other women would soon follow suit.

Dr. Mobin and Dr. Zafrullah

Two Bengali doctors from England, Dr. Mobin and Dr. Zafrullah came to Agartala. I was told they came to assist us in medical services. I was very excited and went out towards Agartala to meet them. We met at a road crossing and market place. Dr. Zafrullah had conjunctivitis in his eyes, an epidemic at that time, people called it ‘joy Bangla’. I introduced myself. Dr. Zafrullah informed me that they had done more surgery than many surgeons have, though they have not completed their FRCS yet. They have organized a Bangladesh support group in England. And now have come to find out how they can best help to the war effort I invited them to Sonamura to visit our hospital. But they were on their way to meet Major Khaled Musharraf in Melaghar. Dr. Zafrullah advised me to come to Olympia Hotel in Agartala in the evening where they were staying, to discuss at length. In the afternoon I went to the hotel. After talking to Khaled there was a change in their plan. Zafrullah said he was going back to England to organize purchase of specialized equipment like scuba diving gears, night visions and different other devices to equip Sector II Commando parties. He said that they would not be able to do much for the medical facilities at this time but Dr. Mobin would stay on and remain with us in Melaghar. The next day Dr. Zafrullah left for England and Dr. Mobin sifted to Melaghar.

Death of a Freedom Fighter June ’71 Our hospital was mainly for the war injuries be it freedom fighters or civilians. But the patients were mostly freedom fighters. The nature of injuries were of a wide variety. Most of the patients came with single-shot Chinese 7.62 bullet injury. These were the best kind from treatment point of view. These bullets entered the body with a small hole and went out with a small hole without much damage to internal tissue. Unless it touched the major organs like heart, liver or kidney, the injured usually survived. I have extracted many bullets from such patients. The philosophy behind this small-bore bullet was, if it injured one, two or three would have to leave the battlefield to 18 Dr. Zafrullah went on and off from sector 2 on errands relating to sector activities. In between he had worked in Bangladesh Hospital at Bisramganj. On 9th November 1971, Zafrullah became in-charge of the Hospital and remained so till after the end of war.

take the injured for treatment. So virtually one bullet inactivated three soldiers. .303 bullets were different. Entry hole of this bullet would be small but tissue damage was extensive with a gaping hole at the exit point. Many of these patients expired even before reaching hospital. Those who survived took a long time to recover. The same thing happened with large bore machine gun bullet injuries. Shell and mortar injuries with splinters in the body had more chances of developing into gangrene unless attended to within forty-eight hours. Persons injured with anti-tank mine usually died on the spot, but small anti personal mines that Pakistanis laid across the countryside created more of a nuisance than serious injuries. Sometimes amputation of a leg would be required but generally the victim, showered with small splinters all over his legs and body like quills of a porcupine required a long and painful job of taking the splinters out. The patients seeking medical care came at all times of day and night, from all accessible corners of the war field which was extended over the vast territory of Sector II. Sometimes they came in a jeep or by other means of transport; sometimes they wa Wed with the support from two comrades on both sides. We tried to comfort them to the best of our ability. When they got better we felt a sense of achievement; a sense of joy filled our hearts. But sometimes they came with the shadow of death trailing behind. One day a dusty jeep came from somewhere. Two freedom fighters jumped out. A fellow freedom fighter was lying on a hogla mat at the back of the jeep. The two of them brought their comrade out of the jeep carefully. The bare-footed wounded freedom fighter was covered with mud caked with blood all over his body. Except for a dirty Lungi there was
145
nothing else on his body.” The white of his eyes looked whiter in the half-closed eyes. The two freedom fighters looked at my face anxiously. I shook my head in despair. He was gone. The total earthy possession of this young freedom fighter left behind was a muddy lungi. But for his motherland he sacrificed his greatest treasure, his life. Who was the lean and thin freedom fighter? Was he a farmer’s son or was he a student somewhere? I didn’t know, may be his friends did. His only identity was that he was a freedom fighter who chose to fight for his country and sacrificed his life very silently. His friends did not say a word. Nor did they wait for a minute more. With loving care they picked up their friend’s body in their arm took him back in the jeep and drove back the way they came from. After a while the jeep disappeared behind a cloud of dust. All I could offer for him was a little prayer after Pliny the Younger “When he is put into his grave, don’t hurt him much dear Earth, because he couldn’t have hurt you much either in his short life.’ Long after the dust settled, Lulu and I stood there with our heads down.
Addl. District Judge R. N. Biswas June ’71

Mr. Rabindranath Biswas was a judge in Comilla. One day, holding hands of his wife and two daughters he crossed the border and came to Sonamura. He had to leave everything behind and had to defect under a sudden threat of being apprehended by the Army. Starting very early in the morning, they walked most of the way. The judges and their families usually have a secured and easy life. They are not used to the harsh cross-country walking.
———
19. Lungi is the most common men’s wear in Bengal, southern India, Sri Lanka
and Burma. It is basically a loincloth of different colours and designs, wom stitched in Bengal and Burma and worn in Southern India without the stitch.
——–
After reaching Sonamura, they had no place to go. They did not know anybody and they had no money. Someone showed them the forest rest house as a Mukti Bahini camp. So they came in front of the rest house and were looking for someone to talk to. I came out from my room and saw the four of them dust covered and tired. They had swollen and bleeding bare feet. Mrs. Biswas was on the verge of collapse. I recognized them. Their son Shankar was my classmate in Dhaka Medical College. I helped them come up the stairs and arranged for them to wash up and rest. After some rest and food they were getting back to normal. Mrs. Biswas started to grieve for everything that they had left behind, and for the bleak and uncertain future. It was beyond our capacity to comfort her. To bring back her confidence, I gave her four hundred rupees that I had saved in the last two months. She did not want to take the money. But I forced her to take it as a loan. Only then did she accepted it and cooled down a little. Khaled came in the evening as usual. I introduced Mr. Biswas to the Commander. Khaled was glad to get him and appointed him as the judicial officer for the sector. All problems were solved in a minute. We requested the forest department for the remaining room in the rest house. The forest department had given up all hopes of using the rest house anyway. So the permission came easy. Mr. Biswas20 and his family lived in the rest house for a week or so. Then a house was arranged for them next to Major Shawkat Ali’s family residence.
———
20. Mr. Biswas later went off to Calcutta and continued to work under
Bangladesh government in exile. In post war Bangladesh Mr. Biswas became a district judge.
——-
Their son Shankar, a physician like me, followed his parents to Sonamura shortly afterwards and went off to Calcutta to find a civil job.21
The Survivor End June ’71

A patient came to the hospital one evening in a spent condition. Pakistan Army had lined up some villagers and shot them down with machine guns. This man was found alive after the Pakistanis had left, and he was brought across the border. I laid him on the table and examined him. He had a bullet injury on one hand and another in the leg. But the third bullet had blown off half of his face. The bullet hit him on the left side of the jaw, meshed half of his face, lips and chin including part of his throat in to a pulp before it went out through the right side of his neck. It was a big red bowl of soft tissue, bones, denture and skin. He had lost almost all his blood and was not bleeding anymore. Somehow he was still alive. I knew it was a hopeless case. My first impulse was to relieve him of his miseries by putting another bullet through his head. But as a physician I couldn’t do that. I thought I should send him to Agartala, as I didn’t want him to die in my hands. But he would not survive till Agartala. I hesitated to start anything with him either because he would sink any moment. My assistants looked on to me expectantly. The man was at the end of his road. He had no other place to go. Whatever there was to be done, had to be done now. I had to give it a try. I took stock of our facilities. Subeder Mannan got everything ready. We had no blood transfusion arrangement in Sonamura,
——–
21. Shankar later married Sabita, his girlfriend from Medical College, who
later came to Sonamura. They have later settled in U.K.
———-
by themselves, was not surprising. In Dhaka Medical Collage, Shamsuddin was junior to me by one year. We were not particularly friends and we did not have much acquintances with each other. Not only because we were in different classes, but also because I had my different spheres to circulate and I am sure Shamsuddin had his. In short, we knew each other by face and by name only. So in reality all I knew about him was that he was a good student, he used to have a motor bike and he was hitched to Dahlia. When they came to Sonamura, I was not sure about their plans. Whether they wanted to stay with us and work with us in the hospital or they wanted to go to Agartala or Calcutta in search of a better and more secure life, like many before them, I was not sure. However after they rested for a while and had lunch, I went out to the town with Shamsuddin on an errand. Then I gave him the picture of our situation and asked him what they wanted to do. Shamsuddin expressed his desire to work with us in spite of the primitive conditions that we had to offer. Sobita’s priorities were different. She went off to Mr. Biswas’s residence to look after them probably because she was their future daughter-in-law. With Shamsuddin joining us, I was greatly relieved. I could then leave the hospital in his care and get on with my other duties. Dahlia joined the nursing corps already established with Lulu and Tulu. Being a third year MBBS student, she knew about the subject and soon fitted in. Living arrangement was quite simple. The girls used the bedroom. Shamsuddin, Bahar, Jamal, Shahadat and myself along with any other guests slept on the floor of either the other room or varandah. The floor of the rest house was made out of wooded planks, a sturdy and solid affair but not a precision work. This is no surprise, as it was not supposed to serve as a
150
ballroom. Over years of weathering the planks of the floor shrank and expanded and eventually formed gaps in between and the floor surface became uneven of varying degree. When at night we wrapped our canvas jungle boots for pillows and went to bed or rather went to floor, often we had to shift and turn to favour our backs from the sharp edges of the floor. But compared to sleeping arrangements in the training camps, this was a luxury. Shahadat stayed with us at the hospital for about two weeks then he went off to Melaghar headquarters. There he became a regular company to Khaled on his trips to sub-sectors. Khaled wanted Shahadat to understand all about Sector II and then write about it.

Life in Sonamura and Melaghar May-July ’71

We got used to the working conditions and life-style in Sonamura and Melaghar and started liking it. It is strange that such a thing was possible in a foreign land away from home where we had to stay under compulsion. So many people from different backgrounds, with different opinions, beliefs and lifestyles converged here. But because of the oneness of motive, all these differences became irrelevant. Hardship was accepted in good grace. This harmonious assimilation and the friendly acceptance of our presence by the host country made our stay almost pleasant in spite of the fact that we were fighting a war. Our average life expectancy was shorter than normal times. Death always loomed round the corner. But that did not matter much. In the history of Bengalis there is no such example of closing ranks in a disciplined and single minded fashion, rising above personal interests and attaining the level of patriotism, as that of 1971.
Most of my friends in Dhaka were in Melaghar already. Bhulu, Sayeed, Samad, Fateh, Sirajul, Zakir, Bakul, Manzoor, Ulfat,
Bodi and many others were there. After coming to India their friends like Gopi Kasem, Ishraq, Alam, Zia, Shahadat, Ahrar, Alvi and Shah Alam, Bachchu of Comilla became our friends too. They came to Sonamura whenever they had an opportunity for a momentary relief from the harsh life in the training camps. Gopi and Ishraq could sing. While visiting us if they were in good mood, they stayed well beyond midnight singing songs. Sometimes we also joined in the chorus using tables as drums and beating the wooden floor. For someone passing by, it would be difficult to tell it from a Saturday night party at some clubhouse. Melaghar Officer’s Mess was an interesting place. The Mess used to be full with Officers from sub-sectors and from Agartala. Many civilians came and stayed at Melaghar for different reasons. Some worked for the sector in different capacities and were regular mess members. Defecting officers from Army and Air Force stayed here on transit to Agartala or Calcutta. Captain Haider used to remain busy in his tent with different aspects of training and planning of operations inside Bangladesh. A group of freedom fighters always used to be with him as assistants. Espresso coffee was served round the clock. Among other regular members of the mess was Captain Malek of EME (Electrical Mechanical Engineering). He was the quartermaster of Sector 2. Rumi crossed the border and came to Sector II with a group of about ten would-be freedom fighters. I met him in front of the officer’s Mess in Melaghar just before lunch time. I knew Rumi from Dhaka. He was from an upper middle-class family in Dhaka. He had been with us in the relief trip to South Bengal after the 1970 cyclone. I invited Rumi for lunch at the Officer’s Mess. But he politely declined, because he couldn’t leave his companions behind and enjoy the relative luxuries of Officer’s Mess. I deeply appreciated this gesture. The group joined the training camp and became freedom fighters. Later Rumi used to visit me frequently in Sonamura. In Sonamura we used to get Army ration for all our staff and patients. Instead of taking regular meat ration every day, we preferred to take a whole goat once a week. With that we used to have a feast. For daily protein requirement, Bahar and Jamal usually arranged a free Hilsa fish or two from the smuggled lot that came across the border every day. So we didn’t have much problem with food. When the girls started working at the hospital, I sent wire to my wife Khuku in Bara-Tajpur, my ancesteral home in West Bengal requesting her to come back to Sonamura and join the Nurses’ brigade. Khuku readily agreed and took the next available flight from Calcutta to Agartala.

Commissioning in Bangladesh Army July 1971 By July ’71, with increased number of freedom fighters and regular troops, Liberation Forces required many more commissioned officers than were available at hand. It was decided to create some officers for Bangladesh Army from among the freedom fighters possessing required qualifications. A short and intense training curriculum was formulated, and officers training academy was established largely with help from India at a location called Murti in India near Nepalese border. Volunteers were asked from all sectors. Out of 61 total cadets commissioned from this batch, 14 were from Sector 2. Habibul Alam and Ziauddin from Sector 2 were also selected for this training and were taken to Agartala from Melaghar but at the last moment they decided to stay back. Many other eligible boys from Sector 2 did not appear for selection because either they were deeply involved in sector activities, or because they preferred to go back to Civilian life when the war comes to an end, whenever that may happen. This batch from Murti would later be known as 1″ BANGLADESH WAR COURSE, in short 1″ SS. They got their commission sometime in October 1971 and were posted in different units of Bangladesh Forces. 22 The Spy Catching Misadventure July ’71 In every township of Tripura there is a restaurant called ‘Matri Bhander’. This is a traditional name coming from the original Matri Bhander’ of Comilla, famous for Roshomalai. The ‘Matri Bhander’ restaurant in Sonamura was the most popular in town. It used to be filled with Bangladeshis and Indians alike. It was also the town meeting place. According to some recent information received by Capt. Kabir from his sources, three Pakistani spies were to meet at ‘Matri Bhander’ at exactly 10 o’clock on a certain date. Kabir got in touch with me when he had this information. We decided to catch the spies. I got in touch with the police authorities in Sonamura. We had a good relationship with the local police. If we conducted an operation on Indian soil under their jurisdiction, it would be only natural that we inform them beforehand. The police authorities gave us the go ahead green signal.
——
22. Most of these officers were veterans of Liberation war when they were
selected for commissioning. After being posted out to different units in the new capacity as an officer, they fought rest of the war bravely. Two of these officers were killed in action during Liberation war, L. Ashfaqus Samad and Lt. Khondkar Azizul Islam. After the war, in spite of the short course they originally attended most of them fared at per if not better than other officers in the Army did. A number of them reached the rank of Major General in Bangladesh Army before going into retirement in due course.
————
Normally a sleazy town, Sonamura was transformed into an open city with the influx of refugees from Bangladesh. Freedom Fighters openly carried firearms. Rifle, pistol and sub-machine gun totting FFs were a common sight. Some of the guerrillas even carried bandoleers across their chest in the Mexican style. But the law and order situation was very good.
There had not been a single incident where a freedom fighter misused his weapon for unlawful or criminal purposes. Our punishment for misuse of weapons was very severe. On the specified day, Captain Kabir came over to Sonamura from Dhanpur with his sidekicks Tipu and Ishraq. By nine thirty in the morning we took position in the restaurant at different tables and waited for the party. At exactly 10 o’clock a group of three entered the restaurant. A Bangladeshi in India usually could be detected from a mile because of the distinct difference in appearance, style of clothes and the way he carried himself in comparison to the Indians. Even a Bangladeshi woman could be spotted from far away by the way she wears her sari. In Agartala the locals would taunt “paikka maia jai (there goes a Pakistani woman)”. The three newcomers that entered ‘Matri Bhander’ were obviously from Bangladesh. From their tired appearance one could also guess that they had just come from across the border, probably all the way from Comilla. The trio did not look worried or suspicious; they just looked very tired. They washed up, ordered breakfast and sat down to eat. I was a little surprised. A group of exactly three men and right at 10 o’clock! This one was falling into place like a prophecy. One had to appreciate Captain Kabir’s intelligence network. Anyway, as we had the target in front of us, we signaled each other, converged from all sides and ‘freezed’ the three at a time. Before anybody could guess anything we got them out of the
restaurant, lined them up against a parked truck and frisked them. Nothing significant could be found. Kabir picked them up in his jeep and hauled them to Dhanpur for further interrogation. The operation was over in two minutes flat. People of Sonamura gave us respectful glances for pulling off the act with such a lightning speed. The police inspector came and asked if everything had gone smoothly. I thanked him profusely for his cooperation and informed him that everything was all right. I paid the bill and went back to the hospital with Bahar and Jamal. Information came from Dhanpur after three days that nothing could be extracted from them in spite of all kinds of efforts. They were probably good men, only their timing was bad. They happened to have reached “Matri Bhander’ at that moment purely by accident. Captain Kabir’s source of information was found to be baseless. But nobody seemed to mind about that. Such things happen in an unstable war situation. The three victims of circumstance also did not seem to mind much. When they were offered to train up and join the Liberation Forces, they happily agreed. The trio remained in Dhanpur. They got their training and became Freedom Fighters.

The Survivor Again July ’71

I often had to go to the GB Hospital for one purpose or another. Whenever I was there, I used to visit the Bangladeshi Ward. On one such visit I saw someone waving at me from one bed. I went nearer and found that it was that patient I had sent from Sonamura with the face injury. I was pleasantly surprised that he was still alive after a week. He seemed to have made it! His whole face was still under dressing; his hand and leg were in a plaster cast. I asked him how he felt. He could not speak, just made some gurgling sound. But there was sound! So his vocal chord was okay. It would only be a matter of time now that he would be cured.
A Night’s Adventure Mid July ’71

Rumi came from Melaghar on his day off. We spent the whole day in a holiday mood. As the evening approached, I proposed ‘Let’s go hunting.’ which meant, a raid on enemy positions. Eyes sparkled and everybody jumped up with enthusiasm at the proposal. We were four, Rumi, Bahar, Jamal and myself. My Batman Taher and the ambulance driver Jahed Ali made it six (Jahed Ali had come back from Teliapara with the ambulance). Shamsuddin set his foot down that he would also go with us. Normally we would not include him for a risky operation because he was the academic type with thick glasses and he had no exposure to shooting activity. Moreover one would have thought that he needed Dahlia’s consent to do something where life would be at risk. I was not so sure about taking him along. Without experience in the field one might just make a wrong move that could endanger life of self and others. I tried to persuade him to hold off this time. May be at a later date, I said. Dahlia also tried to talk him out of it but he just sat there with a gloomy face looking at the ground. Finally I had to agree. But I put strict conditions that he readily accepted. After a light dinner, we started at around 11 p.m. We had six automatic and semi-automatic weapons with enough ammunition. The No Man’s Land was about three miles to the west. We all had jungle boots with soft rubber soles. We walked silently across the township, and the villages beyond. Then there was a vast expanse of paddy fields where India ends and Bangladesh begins. We went on deep inside Bangladesh territory before seeing any light. Then we saw one light at a distance. We walked towards the light. As we came nearer, we saw that the light came from a large hut located in the middle of barren land. There was no other or any sign of human habitation as far as we could see in the darkness. We observed the cottage for some time; there was no one outside. Then we encircled the hut from two sides and crept forward. Reaching the boundary I sent Taher to crawl forward and look inside through the jute-stalk walls what was happening inside. Taher crept forward and looked through a gap on the wall, watched for some time and came crawling back.

He reported, “Sir, there are many people inside, they are playing cards. “Who are they, Pakistanis?’ “No sir, I think they are Bengalis. Probably smugglers.’ It was a possibility that they were smugglers, because no one else would dare to be here in the middle of the night. Smugglers may always have some items for cross border trade to keep themselves busy. But the fact that they were gambling at a place like this, meant that they had a good relationship with the Pakistanis. We should teach them a lesson. There were two entrance doors to the hut. We coordinated and kicked the doors open at a time, shouting ‘Hands up. There were many persons sitting on the floor playing cards in four or five groups. Their reaction to our breaking in was commendable. Within a fraction of a second we could see some streaks of shadows moving to the walls, which were actually thin partitions of braided jute-stems. A second later there was nobody in the room except for us. The wall was torn to pieces as the men jumped out. A total of eighteen shirts were counted hanging all over the room. The floor was littered with cards and money. Both Indian and Pakistani currencies.
———–
23. Jute-stalk: The corky stem of a jute plant. Laced together this can be used as a light wall or separator.
————-
We had come to hunt Pakistan Army and landed in a gambling den. This was the biggest joke of the day. We laughed our guts out. We had no stomach to hunt Pakistan Army any longer. So we returned. On return we were having tea, when it started to rain. The rain made us change our mind. Probably this would be an ideal night for a raid. All agreed and we decided to go again later that night. We had catnapped for a while. Then we got ready and set out at about 4 a.m. It was still drizzling. Roads became muddy and soggy. This time we moved more to the south to get the river on the border. It is the same river that goes down from India and passes through Bibir Bazar. We knew that Pakistanis maintained regular bunkers and troops all along the river. On a rainy night like this they would expectedly be off guard and huddle together in the bunkers more concerned with the rain and sogginess than with possible encounters with Mukti Bahini. It was at daybreak when we reached the point where we wanted to be. At the bend of the river where the border comes on to the land and river Gumti flows on into the interior of Comilla. Across the small river, through rain and mist, hazy shapes of a bunker or two were visible along the embankment. We laid in wait facing two bunkers from two angles of the river bend and watched for movement on the other side. Rumi, Bahar and Jahed Ali remained in one group: I was with Taher, Jamal and Shamsuddin in the other group. No movement could be seen on the other side of the river. We waited in the drizzling rain till visibility became clearer. Someone walked beyond the embankment with an umbrella.
Smoke could be seen coming out from a bivouac outside the bunkers. Probably morning tea was being prepared. Rumi came from his position and informed that two girls came out from the bunker they were facing. The girls would probably take a turn to the south and go to Bibir Bazar. I told Rumi to try to get their attention and signal the girls to come across if they can. Rumi ran back to his post and tried, but failed to get attention of the girls. The girls walked away towards Bibir Bazar. Then for a while there was no movement. We waited to get a few enemy soldiers together. We decided that whichever team saw more than two of the targets coming out from the bunker, would start shooting. The other party will start shooting at whatever target was available in the bunker or outside. The rain continued. Pakistanis had taken it easy on a rainy day. They did not move either. At about seven, rain let off a little. Two enemy soldiers in uniform came out from the bunker in front of us. They seemed to have just come out of bed. Their hair was disheveled and their shirts were over the pants. One of them came down towards the river, put his back towards us and started to release himself against a tree. The other enemy soldier came halfway down and did the same with his back towards us, scratching his side with his free hand. I wanted to send information to Rumi to start firing on whatever they had within their sights, but there was no time. We must get these two at least. Then firing started from Rumi’s position. We also started. The two pitiable fellows were literally caught with their pants down! Then a few bullets were shot through the bunker portholes. After about five minutes we withdrew when they started shooting back and throwing mortar shells across the river. At about nine in the morning we returned to camp. Later in the
160
day, I went to Melaghar to drop Rumi off and report the incident. The report was passed on to Echelon Headquarters in the routine Sit-Rap (Situation report) of the day. Everybody was amused by our adventure story. Major Sishu was in Melaghar that day. He asked laughingly, “Akhtar, why do you do these things? I said, “May be I was getting a little rusty without much activity sir.”

Khuku Returns to Sonamura 23 July ’71

Khuku came back on 23 July. She was cross with me. Mrs. Biswas met her at Dumdum airport on her way to Calcutta from Agartala the same day. She told Khuku jokingly with an oblique reference to the girls in the hospital, “You sure you want to go? Akhtar seems to be doing just fine.” But after coming to Sonamura it did not take time for her to be her cheerful self again. Khuku also joined the nurse’s brigade. With her joining in, we now had two shifts of two girls each. Lulu and Khuku became a team; Dahlia and Tulu made the other team. Khuku had worked with me during relief in 1970, and she was a doctor’s wife after all. It did not take her long to adjust with hospital work. We used to get daily food ration for the nurses from our sector but their pay or pocket money came from another source. Dr. Roy Choudhury arranged that under some project. He arranged the same thing for Khuku also. In this connection we all went to Agartala one day to Dr. Roy Choudhury’s and had a great lunch cooked by Mrs. Choudhury.
lesson.” Sundaram would retaliate with his battery of medium guns.
Khaled came after I arrived in Sonamura. It was the first time he looked really angry with me.. Consequence of the unnecessary delay could have resulted in a catastrophe if we had a direct hit on the hospital. We completed the move to the new location Darogabagicha the same day, the 26″ of July.

Darogabagicha 26 July-25 Aug. ’71

The narrow track from the main road could easily be missed unless one was watchful. The jeepable track went up a slope through clumps of bush. Up the hillock it was like a plateau with plenty of Jackfruit and other trees with a large clearing at the center. Tents were pitched around the clearing to accommodate the hospital. Tents were of different sizes. We had seven large 180 pounder tents. Two for patients, one each for MI Room/OT, staff, nurses, doctors and one for store. A number of smaller tents were pitched for other uses. I had a 40pounder tent to myself as the commanding officer. The ground was moist. We had thick transparent polyethylene sheets to cover the ground. Under the transparent sheet, variety of insects could be seen freely moving about. Snake trench was dug around each tent with carbolic acid bottles exposed to scare off snakes. Our water source, a well, was halfway down to the main road. The well was cleaned and maintained by the hospital staff. An enclosure was made next to the well to serve as a washroom for the girls. Starting with a humble outpost in Srimontopur two and a half months ago, we emerged into a functional hospital of our own at Darogabagicha. Our hospital was one of a kind. It was the only hospital in the war zone, exclusively for the freedom fighters, staffed and run by freedom fighters with proper nursing service provided. Number of patients from sub-sectors steadily increased. Our principle was the same, to provide the best possible service to the wounded and sick Freedom Fighters. Our dedication to this principle was total, and Khaled fully supported us. Working conditions couldn’t have been better because we were doing what we liked best to do, saving and (supporting) lives. And that was exactly what we were entrusted to do. We were not really bound by rigid Army rules. I did not have much exposure in Pakistan Army to learn all the rules to run a hospital. But that did not seem to be a handicap. We adjusted to the realities and set our own rules befitting to the time and place. We were doing just fine. Discipline prevailed as a second nature in our work. Our living conditions were far from comfortable. Although most of us were used to a degree of comfort in our private lives before the war started, it became trivial and the subject never even came up for discussion. In Darogabagicha, hospital routine remained the same. Two nurses were on duty on eight-hour shifts and a trained AMC nursing staff with them to guide them. Shamsuddin was the full-time Physician. I made sure I visited all the patients in the hospital at least once a day in the morning. Rest of the time I was off to Agartala or Melaghar or somewhere, doing administration, logistics, Sub-sector visits and liaison. In Darogabagicha or Darogatilla, another girl, Parma joined us. Padma was a trained nurse, or so I was told.24 But Padma took longer time than the other girls to adjust and join in duty with them. The existence of our unique medical efforts in Sector II became known far and wide. The Director General of Health Services of Bangladesh in Calcutta, Dr. T. Hussain, visited us to see the hospital for himself. And many others would follow. Life in Darogabagicha was different from the days of Sonamura. There was no more playing host to all those people coming across the border, no more free shopping of smuggled “Ilish’ and no more catching spies. Of course there was no shortage of friends coming from sectors or sub sectors all the time for treatment or for a cup of coffee.
———-
24. At the 25th year reunion of Sector II, I came to know that Padma was
not at af a nurse when she joined us.
———-
Squadron Leader Sadruddin of Air Force currently posted as 2 I/C Sector 8, came and stayed with us for some time for some specific purpose in the area. He became a part of our hospital family. During day or night whenever we had some free time, we used to have endless cups of coffee that came from some international source. We received some free lungi. Small and almost transparent, those lungis were not really adequate to serve as a ‘wear’. One day Sadru bhai sported one and soon found out that it was ’embarrassing’. Then we used two lungis at a time. Sadru bhai went off to his sector and came back again to stay for a few more days. Our food ration system was same as before. The whole lamb or goat used to come once a week. And we used to have an improved diet menu. Mostly Khuku and Tulu used to cook for us on feast days. We sometimes invited our friends or fellow officers from Melaghar to have lunch or dinner with us. Capt. Zafar Imam’s family used to live in Rajnagar; he came with his wife to visit us one day. They spent the night and returned next morning. Khaled as usual, dropped in on his way back to Melaghar everyday.
Bangladesh Army Medical Corps End July ’71 Air Force AMC officer Squadron Leader Shamsul Haque crossed over to India and joined in Sector 1. He was the senior most of the Bangladeshi Army doctors in India. Sq. Ldr. Shamsul Haque, Mokhter Kamal and myself, representing the three sectors had a meeting in Agartala at the Bangladesh Forces Headquarters. That was the first effort to organize Bangladesh Army Medical Corps. Very soon Shamsul Haque
—————————-
25. Lungi is the most common men’s wear in Bengal, southern India, Sri
Lanka and Burma. It is basically a loincloth of different colours and designs, wom stitched in Bengal and Burma and worn in Southern India without the stitch.
——————–
would leave for Calcutta as D.G. to form ‘Directorate General of Medical Services’ for Bangladesh Forces. Two other senior AMC officers also crossed over to India and joined in Sector 1. Major Khurshiduddin Ahmed and Major Shamsul Alam. Both of them were on trial for the Agartala Conspiracy case along with Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Major Shamsul Alam was a cell-mate of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in the Agartala Conspiracy case. Major Khurshid became ADMS in Delta Sector HQ at Agartala and Major Shamsul Alam went to Calcutta to join Sq. Ldr. Shamsul Haque in his effort to organize Bangladesh Army Medical Corps.
Busy Time July-September ’71
It was a busy time between July to September. A sustainable Liberation force emerged with the number of Regular troops and FFs steadily increasing. Major Khaled’s vision and efforts worked out the way he thought it should. In the fronts along the border we slowly changed our tactics from raid and ambush to advance and hold ground. On the other front, specially trained boys from Sector II coordinated subversive activities like disrupting communication, cutting off power supply lines, blasting off power generating plants, setting off bombs in specific targets at specific times in Dhaka. Our trained boys established guerrilla bases deep inside the country as well as in and around Dhaka City. From first hand reports of journalists and international dignitaries the news of the real picture inside East Pakistan trickled out. The outside world gradually became convinced that Pakistan Army was facing a formidable challenge from the freedom fighters and had difficulty in sustaining their claim that everything was all right in East Pakistan. People came to know that Pakistanis were at war with an organized force at home in and around its borders. Apart from the news of the guerrilla activities in Dhaka, most of the other headline news in Indian and International press were the news of frontal fights in the four sub sectors of Sector II, namely Mondobhag, Shaldanadi, Rajnagar and Belonia.

Estimate of a Bigger Hospital 1-7 August ’71 Khaled called me one day and said, “Let’s make a bigger hospital. You give me an estimate and select a location. The place should be reachable from all sub-sectors, it should be by the side of the road, drinking water should be available and the place must be eleven miles inside the border, out of Pakistani medium gun range. We don’t want repetition of Sonamura incident.” Khaled’s conditions meant that we had to move again. We would have to go further to the north towards Bisalgar area where the main road divides and one goes towards Sonamura, the other towards Udaypur, Rajnagar and Belonia. With Lulu and the other girls I was on the lookout for a suitable place around that area and found one. It was a large grassy clearing with lots of trees and a beautiful pond with clear water. I worked on this project for a few days. Labour would be free; the trainees of Melaghar could do the fatigue duty. The building materials like bamboo, wood, poles and hay would also be free. It was just a matter of collection from different locations in Tripura. Only expenses would be for skilled labor and transportation. I made a conservative estimate of five thousand rupees and gave it to Khaled. Khaled saw the plan in details. He did not make any comments and took it with him on his way to Calcutta for Sector Commanders’ meeting. Khaled returned from Calcutta and called me to Melaghar. “Your five thousand rupees plan gets screwed, here is a plan for F-I-F-T-Y thousand rupees.” He said, and produced a Bangladesh Government approval order. For us in the sector, it became a day of great excitement. To be honored with our Government’s sanction to build the Bangladesh Forces Hospital in Sector II was a recognition of our efforts and achievements in the liberation war. It also showed confidence of our decision-makers on the capabilities of Sector II. Khaled finally did the site selection for the new hospital himself. It was a place called “Lichoo Bagan” meaning Litchi garden, near Bisramganj, which was midway between Agartala and Melaghar, not far from the point where road divides. Owner of the place was Mr. Habul Banarjee, a previous Comilla resident. Like Mr. Noresh Bhattacharjee, he was also a freedom fighter for independence of India movement. Habul Banarjee gave us permission with pleasure with the only request that we should not chop the litchi trees down. The area was large with a well-maintained pond for drinking water. The place was exactly as Major Khaled wanted it to be, including that it was eleven miles from the border.

The Bangladesh Hospital at Bisramganj and Dr. Mobin 7h-26th August ’71
Four Bangladeshi Engineers were posted from Mujibnagar (No. 8, Theater Road, Calcutta.) to Sector II to construct this hospital. They were Mr. Nurul Huda, Mr. Mahboobul Alam, Mr. Shahabuddin Bhuiya and Mr. Tajul Islam but somehow they were never called by their names. We named them, Bhalo engineer, Kalo engineer, Boro engineer and Choto engineer, meaning, the good, the dark, the senior and the junior engineer respectively. The main construction was centered on two large structures. There would be few other smaller structures, as well as the
tents we already had. There would be surgical, medical, casualty and post op wards. Then there were OT, Pathology, Emergency, Infection ward, recreation area, dormitories for Doctors, Nurses, Army personnel, Civilian employees, Cookhouse and office. An octagonal meeting room was later added to the scenario at the corner of the pond. We had great help from Indian officials of various departments. They helped us in every way they could with permissions, supply of various items and full support. Dr. Mobin was the coordinator of the hospital project. He stayed at the construction site and remained busy round the clock. At one point he fell sick and suffered from a bout of fever for a week or so, but that did not keep him from his work. We assisted Dr. Mobin as much as we could. Then one day our dream hospital came true. Sheer will power of some determined Freedom Fighters with unreserved support from India and our Indian friends turned a dream into reality. Khaled’s objective, to provide best possible service to our wounded freedom fighters on our own effort, finally got full recognition and his team of able lieutenants that developed around him made it happen. That we could create the hospital in the midst of all uncertainties in a foreign land made us proud of ourselves indeed.

Shifting to the New Hospital 26 August ’71

This time we did not delay in shifting. We remained exactly one month in Darogabagicha. On 26″ of August we did the shifting. It was a rainy day. The hilly roads were wet and slippery. On the trip from Darogabagicha to Bisramganj, we were in a great mood. Gafur was driving, Sadru Bhai, Shamsuddin, Gopi Kasem, stood at the back and the rest of us found a place to sit somewhere and we were all singing in chorus. On a hilltop along the road Gafur suddenly found
170
himself facing a ‘Shaktiman’ truck of Indian Army. He put the brakes on real hard and our pick-up truck skidded and came to a jerking halt when it hit a pile on the side of the road. There were minor injuries but nothing serious. The most interesting was that we took the accident on the stride, nobody stopped singing. Tulu was carrying a packet full of ‘Sondesh’ a sweetmeat made from milk, meant for the next day’s proposed party on my birthday. The packet flew off Tulu’s hand and splashed into the mud and the Sondesh pieces were scattered all over the place. But Kasem did not let it go. He picked up the packet and ate as many as he could. The hospital had excellent arrangements for beds. There was a cupboard next to each bed. All made from bamboo. Being tired after a long day when we went to bed, Kasem started singing at the top of his voice, beating some wooden panel as a drum. When his song became unbearable Sadru bhai had to jump out from his bed to hold Kasem down by his throat. Next day the 27″ of August was my birthday. We threw a small party at the hospital compound. Most of our friends from the Sector and Agartala came. The best gift I received was a letter from my mother by hand of Shahadat who had just returned from Dhaka. She sent me a lot of blessings and prayed that we return home as victors. With Shahadat, came a large group from Dhaka. Ahrar’s sister Keka with her husband Mr. Joadul Karim (Tonu), her two children Bhun and Kanka, and her ailing mother, whom, Alam had to carry on his shoulder most of the way. Among others in the group were Mahmood, classmate of Shamsuddin, a final year medical student. Maoa Billa and his sister Minu Billa. Minu had just passed intermediate exam and was a rising dancer in Dhaka. Pakistani authorities were looking for artists to perform in the television to maintain that everything was normal in Dhaka city. Minu had no intention to perform in occupied Dhaka to please the Pakistani authorities. So she did
not respond to the calls from T.V. After repeated invitations and refusals she did not feel safe to remain in Dhaka. In the mean time word was sent to Dhaka by Lulu through couriers to come over and join in the hospital of sector 2. So Minu decided to defect from Pakistan and came. Minu joined the hospital as nurse like others before her. Mahmood joined the hospital as a doctor. Maoa Billa joined the sector as an accountant. Keka and her family stayed in the nurses dormitory for a few days and left for Calcutta. The real change in Bisramganj hospital was that here we had a proper OT. In our previous ones what we had was an emergency OT, which is acceptable in the field conditions to deal with emergencies. And we tackled all kinds of emergencies. But a sterile OT is a different story altogether. All kinds of surgical procedures, emergency and cold cases can be operated there under controlled conditions. And here we had our own surgeon, Mobin Bhai. Therefore from Bisramganj we rarely had to refer any case to Agartala. We named our hospital “Bangladesh Hospital’. This was the only military hospital south of Agartala. So we occasionally served Indian Army road accidents and emergencies also. A tragedy occurred around this time. Cover of one of our major guerrilla groups in Dhaka was blown. The group was captured with a sweeping action by Pakistan Army. Subsequently Pakistan army slaughtered most of the group. We also lost a cache of arms at the same time. This created a temporary set back in our Dhaka guerrilla operations. The incident taught us a lesson that war is a deadly game and one could not afford to be careless. Fateh Ali came from Dhaka on 30” August to report this incident to Headquarter. Zakia, a teacher of English in Eden Girls college, came with Fateh Ali and joined the hospital as nurse. In fact, Zakia being the seniormost of the nurses, was appointed as the chief of nurses.
Alam’s house was an ammunition dump for the freedom fighters. After it was discovered by Pakistan Army, his sisters Asma and Reshma with their father had to leave Dhaka in a hurry. They crossed the border and came to Bangladesh Hospital and joined as nurses. Alam’s father Mr. Hafizul Alam was eventually posted to the hospital as administrative officer.

Arrival of Indian Army September-November ’71

From the month of June, Indian Pioneer Corps (IPC) upgraded every bridge and culvert in the area to Class VI. Which means these could now bear heavy loads like tanks and guns. From September, the Indian Army units started arriving and filling up the place quietly like snowfall. Different regiments like Gurkha, Punjab, Rajput, Maratha, Bihar came on convoys miles long. Other units like artillery, mountain artillery with their donkeys, Engineers units with their bridge making equipments, Field Ambulances, Workshops, kept coming and assimilated in the bushes and hills of Tripura along the border. A particular scene became common on the road. Off road Indian Army trucks with problems waiting to be rescued by toe trucks. In the mean time the driver would live under the truck, making bread on a small stove and spent days waiting leisurely. We knew the Indian army was all around because many of their units collected drinking water from our hospital pond. We carefully secured the water source and it’s quality. We also used the same water for bath and other uses but bathrooms were far away from the pond. Not a drop of used water could find its way back to the pond. The Civilian-Army chemistry in India never failed to surprise me. In India, civilians respect the army but they are not afraid of it. Army also did not have the arrogant attitude that we were used to see in Pakistan. There it would be a common sight that two army trucks coming from opposite direction stop side by side blocking the whole road and the drivers start talking to each other without any respect for general traffic on the road. It would also be quite common for an army vehicle to violate a queue and overtake all other civilian vehicles to catch a ferry. Such things would be impossible in India.

Trips to Agartala May-October ’71

I had to go to Agartala almost everyday. ‘Matri Bhander” restaurant in Agartala was a convenient meeting place. While in Agartala, one visit to Matri Bhander was compulsory, either for snacks or for lunch. The place used to be frequented by FFs from the sectors coming to Agartala on different errands. Many of my friends would leave their bills for me to settle. At the end of the day, the manager would produce the bills to me or would collect it the next day. This was a standing arrangement. For lunch of course I tried to be in Delta Sector headquarters. Apart from regular Mess members, visiting officers from other sectors and Indian Units used to come there for lunch. Our sector commanders Major Zia, Major Shafiullah and Major Khaled often had meetings there. Lt. Col. Rob, Chief of staff Bangladesh Army had his office in the BDF headquarters at Agartala. It was a great meeting place and a place for information exchange on what was happening in different sectors. It took me almost a whole day to compete my chores in Agartala during my trips there. Keeping liaison with Indian officials, meeting with doctors in GB hospital, going to places for medicine, powder milk and other supplies, collecting these items and doing local purchase usually the day came to an end. In the evening there used to be gatherings at Dr. Sujit Dey’s place followed by dinner. Returning home could be a very late affair. Often I saw sunrise on the way back to the camp.

More Staff for Hospital, September ’71

Mobin Bhai and Dr. Nazim shifted to Bisramganj from Melaghar shortly after we shifted the hospital there. Number of AMC personnel increased. Civilian employees like accountants and other personnel were posted. But we needed more doctors and nurses. Many doctors from Bangladesh took refuge in Tripura in 1971, most of them were Hindus. They found jobs with the Indian Government Health services and other organizations or went to Calcutta to find one. When I approached them to come and join us in the war effort, they apologetically declined, because they had to earn a living for their families. Being pointedly victimized by Pakistan Army, they could not leave their families behind in Bangladesh because their families would not have the social security most Muslim families were likely to have. Muslim doctors who came to India, were either bachelors or had their families in Bangladesh. Most of them had already joined the liberation war or were serving in youth camps. The exodus of Bangladeshi Hindu population from occupied areas in the face of Pakistan Army onslaught is understandable. But their general apathy to join in the Liberation Army to take active part in the armed struggle to regain our land and dignity is not understandable to me. Among senior doctors from Dhaka, Professor Rashiduddin came to Agartala. When I heard about him, I went to Agartala to his hotel and met him. I also drove him down to our hospital to show him what we were doing. He appreciated our efforts but did not stay back as he thought his specialized skill as a neurosurgeon, would not be of much use here. He left for Calcutta and on his way to England. One day I met Kiron at Matri Bhander. Kiron Shankar Devnath was a fourth year medical student in Dhaka Medical College. I asked him to come and join us. He was staying with his family
175
in Agartala. Kiron visited us and liked our place. The next day he went back to Agartala to bring his sister also. His sister Anupoma Devnath joined the Nurses brigade. Both of them served at the hospital till the end of the war.

Political logic of the Liberation War
In the M.N.A. hostel at College Tilla, Agartala, many families from Bangladesh had taken shelter. Most of them were followers of progressive leftist ideology. There I met one charismatic leader who was a student of final year MBBS in Dhaka. When I requested him to come and work with us, he bluntly refused. And said, “There is no political basis of your liberation war, therefore I do not see any point in your fighting, and the question of my joining you does not arise.” The conversation went like this: I said, “Saiful, why don’t you come and work with us?” Saiful said, “What do you mean by ‘us’?” “I mean in the liberation war. As you know, we have a hospital now. There are others like Shamsuddin, Dahlia and Kiron in our hospital, and Salim, Lutfar and many others in the war field.” “What are they doing there?” Saiful asked. I was surprised. Naturally they were doing for the country what they do best, treating injured freedom fighters. That’s what I told Saiful, “They are treating the freedom fighters!” Saiful asked, “Who are the freedom fighters?” I said, “They are the sons of the soil! Fighting for the independence of the country!” Saiful said, “No, I don’t find any reason to work for them. Because your war of liberation, is not a political decision. It is not my fight. Who is the son of the soil?” I was appalled. This was the first time I heard such an evaluation of the war of liberation. What I could not understand is that, if someone did not believe in Liberation War, then what would he or they be doing in India? One can not logically expect that Pakistan Army will one day get tired of killing Bengalis and will just go home. It would also be unfair to expect India to do all the fighting for us, die for us and give us back our land on a silver platter while we stay put in the safety of MNA hostels. Today freedom fighters are fighting for the Country. We should be able to respect them. Or one day when we return home over the sacrifices of these freedom fighters, we would not be able to respect the Country either. All through the history, only bullets have matched bullets. It would not be any different in our struggle. Writing poetry or articles in newspapers, organizing demonstrations in Calcutta and London or giving diplomatic lectures are part of war. These would draw sympathy and support from the rest of the world for our rightful cause to fight, but the bottom line is we are required to fight our own battle. At one point of time one must pick up a firearm and shoot at the enemy and be shot at. Only brute force can match brute force. If this war is not about regaining our dignity, then it is not worth fighting for. Would we have fought this war with Pakistan if they did not mess with our dignity and our lives on 25″ of March 1971? There is a basic difference between British in India and Pakistanis in Bengal. British imposed its rule over India by force. So with time discontent to grow was only natural even under best possible rules. But Pakistan came to exist by choice. We voted for Pakistan, we lived in Pakistan and we loved Pakistan. Discontent in the East Wing grew because of the subsequent deprivations and injustices. Saiful has a point when he says, war of Liberation was not a political decision. Trying to restore dignity does not have much to do with political process. I would have been very depressed while coming out from MNA Hostel but for Faujia. Faujia is my classmate in Medical College and wife of Saifuddin Manik, a leftist leader in Dhaka. She also lived in the MNA hostel with her newborn child. She heard the conversation between Saiful and me and she said, “Akhtar, I am ready to go and work with you. Let’s go.” I said, “Faujia, you have a small baby to look after. The place we have is not suitable for babies. But I respect your spirit.” Faujia Moslem is one of the most spirited persons I ever met. During the atrocities by Pakistan Army in 1969, I have seen Faujia to tear off her own sari and use it as bandage when stock of bandages ran out in the emergency room of Dhaka Medical College.

Working atmosphere in the Hospital Sept. ’71

Nilima joined us in late September. She was the only trained female nurse to join us. Younger brother of Fateh Ali, Morshed was in 4 year MBBS in Momensahi Medical College. He also joined the hospital around the same time. Mansoor was a fourth year medical student. For some time he was with Capt. Ainuddin, and later joined Bangladesh Hospital Kasem was the only one from Dental Surgery. He was still a student and worked in Bangladesh Hospital as a physician. By the end of September, our medical team reached full strength. We had ten girls for nursing duty, seven doctors including myself, A number of Army male nurses, NCOs, and Subeder Mannan. Mobin Bhai was the Chief Physician. Subeder Mannan was promoted to Subeder major and he was the Chief of Other Ranks. I remained as the administrative chief of the hospital apart from my other duties in the headquarters and sub-sectors. The hospital was essentially an army institution under army rules. But the doctors and nurses were all civilians. There were other civilian employees too. The discipline of the hospital developed in such a harmonious manner since the Sonamura days, that there was never any complaint of civilian army conflict. On the contrary, the civilian employees blended just fine with Army discipline. Military or non-military did not matter. By all these, what we did achieve was a unique bondage between patients and service providers, specially the nurses. Our whole effort and all resources were put together to the singular purpose of giving the best possible and compassionate service to the patients. Such compassionate and wholehearted service that was provided by these girls in Bangladesh Hospital Bisramganj is unprecedented. They would nurse the patients with extreme care and deep sympathy. Apart from nursing them, the nurses would talk to the patients, share their feelings and bring about a confidence in the wounded or sick that he would feel himself to be among friends and families even in this foreign land. Sometimes a patient would refuse to take medicine or a fresh dressing if his favorite sister was not by his side. Sometime the girls would rebuke a patient for not taking medicine or something else. And then the patient would sheepishly do as he was told. When a patient’s condition worsened, the girls would not leave his side till he became better. If the patient died in spite of all effort, the girls would stop eating and mourn as if someone from their own family died. In my lifetime of experience in various hospitals in different countries, I have never experienced such compassion and commitment. Only among the sisters of Missionaries of Charity, the organization of Madam Teresa, that I have seen similar bondage between the sisters and patients. There is of course a difference between the two situations. The sisters of missionaries of Charity deal with patients terminally ill where death is just around the corner. What the sisters provide there is treatment and dignity to a dying human being. In our hospital we deal with vibrant young men and our nurses provided them with courage and strength to live. In the evening when workload used to be a little less, patients, staff and visitors alike used to sit down by the side of the pond and along the open space in front of the hospital. Commander Khaled as usual came late in the evening on his way back to Melaghar. He was promoted to Lt. Col. along with Zia and Shafiullah. Usually we used ‘mora’ to sit on in front of the ladies dormitory for evening chitchat. If it rained then we sat in the dining room of the dorm. Participants used to be mostly Lulu, Mobin Bhai, Shahadat, Zakia, Dahlia, Khaled and me. The discussions used to be very lively and intelligent. Debate with Khaled on views of national and international matters used to be best matched by Lulu. She did not hesitate to go into argument at one to one level with Khaled. For the rest of us that was not very easy. Khaled was our commander in a war. His word was law in this sector. Orders of war are different from evening academic discussions where opinions could differ. But the thin line between the two situations is very difficult to distinguish. Khaled was a natural and charismatic leader. Good as he was in military strategy and tactics, he also understood geopolitics and human psychology. Military and civilian personnel alike worked under Khaled with full loyalty and commitment. We were conditioned to fully accept Khaled’s words without argument. The Hospital was a tangible evidence of our achievement. It was like an inspiration. Most of the dignitaries and visitors from Calcutta that came to Agartala made it a point to visit the hospital at Bisramganj. Syed Nazrul Islam, Colonel Osmani,
180
Dr. T. Hussain, Mrs. Ivy Rahman, Sekender Abu Zafar were among many to have visited us. Inspired by the services provided at Bangladesh Hospital, Nurses training centers were established by Bangladesh Government at Agartala and Calcutta. Some Bangladeshi girls were trained there and later sent to Bisramganj around mid November. This hospital being one of a kind and because of the type of services it provided, it earned wide spread recognition and respect. Some physicians and social workers from India and abroad came and worked for the hospital and many more expressed their desire to join in. Correspondents from Indian and International press came to the hospital and many used to be deeply moved by the whole show and wanted to contribute to our efforts to the best of their ability. Among the patients a strange kind of psychology worked which is never seen during peacetime. The injured surgical patients got more respect, attention and care from all quarters. Somehow, degree of extra care was directly proportional to the degree of seriousness of the injury. The Patients in surgical ward, with injuries suffered much more than the medical ward patients. They often lost fingers, limbs and other body parts and lost lives too. Yet they used to be cheerful. Medical patients in comparison to surgical patients were less jubilant and more apologetic for having to come to the hospital without a bullet in the belly, or being blown up by a mine or getting an artillery shell fragment somewhere in his body. On one of his visits to our hospital, when the DGMS Shamsul Haq benevolently inquired from a medical ward patient, “How are you today!” The patient simply kept crying in shame of being laid up with loose motion, and could not utter a single word. The DG could not guess why the patient was crying. We led the DG away to other beds to save the patient from further embarrassment. In the new hospital, our medical requirement increased many folds. Supply of medicine and equipment increased to a degree. Yet requirements were never fulfilled. We had provision for local purchase. We had been buying medicines from the pharmacies of Agartala. There was one interesting incident in a pharmacy. One day I ordered for a box of condom ‘Nirodh’. There were raised eyebrows and inquisitive glances from the pharmacist. Actually Captain Haider requested me to get the box of condoms. These were meant to be used for carrying matchbox and other dry items in the rainy season when our boys were sent on missions, especially to blow up power line pylons. The countryside through which the boys had to reach the pylons, were invariably under water, and they had to scuttle across. Whatever they carried used to get wet and the required flame did not flare. Many operations were delayed or postponed just because of this wet problem. So Capt. Haider wanted these condoms for a trial. But of course I could not roll out the whole story to the pharmacist, instead I had to leave them to their imaginations.

Off duty hours August-October ’71

To provide medical service during war is a full time business. There is no timing when a patient or a load of patients would come. So our service naturally was round the clock. With increase of numbers of physicians and nurses, shift duty became a practice for most of the staff. I was not bound with duty hours, as I used to have business at Melaghar, at Agartala and visiting sub-sectors. But mostly Agartala. Sometimes in the day, and some times in the evenings. Evenings were mostly socialization hours. Among the girls, whoever were not on duty, but most commonly, Khuku, Lulu and Tulu used to come along for a trip to Agartala, which was an hour’s drive. We developed friendship with many a local gentry and their families in Agartala who often visited us and we also often visited them. Among families in Agartala, Dr. Roy Choudhury and his family were very close to us. They lived in a house on a hilltop overlooking a rolling landscape. Mrs. Roy Choudhury was also a good cook. Director of Education Dr. Chatterjee and his wife were more elderly. They were Kind and friendly. Mrs. Chatterjee drove her own Ambassador car. Dr. Sujit Dey’s house was a hangout for most of the Army circle. Major Khaled and Dr. Dey became personal friends. Along with Khaled, many of Khaled’s associates also became familiar with this hangout. Dr. Dey was unmarried, so was his elder brother. One of Dr. Dey’s sisters stayed with them, who had grown up children. Other sisters of Dr. Dey and his mother stayed in Calcutta and often came to Agartala. Among others, Major Zia also visited Dr. Dey’s house while he was in Sector 1 and later when was posted in the north to raise Z force the first Brigade of Bangladesh Army consisting of battalions 1, 3 and 8. Many Bangladeshi families while passing through Agartala stayed in Dr. Dey’s house. Our girls from hospital sometimes came here with me and stayed for lunch or dinner. The girls, whenever they came, usually sent off the cook for the day and took over the kitchen. The pick-up truck I used was very useful. It could carry supplies and it could carry people. We placed a number of small mora (sitting tools made of cane) in the back. These came in very handy, as there was no shortage of passengers. Apart from calling on friends, our favorite attraction was shopping at the market place. It was in the market that the girls first met Maj. Zia. It was an interesting incident. I was in the market with the girls one-day, while I saw a jeep come by and Maj. Zia coming out from the jeep on the other side of the road. He was in his usual golf cap and dark ray-ban glasses. I told Lulu, “I will tell you something if you promise not to jump. That man is Maj. Zia”.Lulu and others did not meet Zia before, but Zia was famous because of his voice in the radio declaring Independence. So with the contingent of girls I went to the other side of the road, saluted Maj. Zia and introduced him to the girls. The girls were absolutely thrilled to meet him. Zia talked some niceties, and said that yes he knew that some girls were working in Sector II. Once again about a month later in Agartala, while we were in a cinema hall, some one came and informed us that Zia was in town. We went to Dr. Dey’s house to meet Zia. This time, Lulu requested Zia if he could arrange military training for girls, in that case she would volunteer to join in and arrange for some more girls. Zia thought over it, and said, current situation in his jurisdiction would not permit womenfolk to stay there. But if he could arrange a training schedule for girls, he would send for them. Some time later, Lt. Col. Zia probably did some arrangements and sent for the girls to come over, but by then the war rolled on a long way and the girls got real settled in Bisramganj and were doing a full time professional nursing. Probably that is why they passed up the offer from Zia. By September, our guerrilla warfare matured into a sustained warfare. The development, formation and activity of the liberation forces had taken a final shape. The role of different services became clear. FF means Freedom Fighter or guerrilla or irregular troops to get an allowance of Rs.30/- per month They had no uniform. The uniformed regular troops were called MF or Mukti Fouj, meaning regular troops, with monthly allowance Rs.70/-.

Special about Sector II

Statistically speaking, Sector II turned out to be the largest sector with the maximum numbers of troops and officers, activity and wars. Among the Sectors of the liberation war, Sector 2, also referred to as Melaghar, was closest to Dhaka City in distance. Working environment in this sector and dynamic leadership of Khaled attracted would be freedom fighters from Dhaka City who wanted to join the liberation war to fight Pakistan Army. Word spread throughout the communities of Dhaka, that one of the direct ways to join the liberation war is to go to Melaghar. Joining the training program of Melaghar was relatively easy in comparison to going to youth camps and Indian operated training centers. Khaled Musharraf had good acquaintance in the pro-liberation social elite class of Dhaka. They found their way to Melaghar in the first few months of the war. Other officers of Sector II including myself had many friends among Dhaka University student’s community and men of that age group in Dhaka in general. Contacts were established in no time and almost all my friends and their friends found their way into Melaghar and joined the liberation war. And eventually played important roles in the course of Liberation War. With dynamic leadership, innovative, original methods and geographical advantage, Khaled transformed Sector II in to the largest, busiest and most important sector in Liberation War. In terms of manpower, fights, casualties, activities and performance, Sector 2 stands out in comparison to any other Sector in the Liberation War. Out of 124 newly commissioned officers of Bangladesh Army selected and recruited from the freedom fighters and trained during the Liberation War in the first and second war course, Sector 2 provided 43. Out of 98 Army officers of Pakistan Army who joined the Liberation War, 27 served in Sector 2 at one time or another. Medical Services in Sector 2 developed at the same pace. It reached a level of professional excellence to match the military development in the sector and maintained the medical coverage effectively. The star flagship was ‘Bangladesh Hospital’.
185

Book 5
Winds of Change
Formation of Forces With adequate number of recruits, training facility and weaponry, the Liberation Army had taken a clear-cut shape with formidable strength by the month of September. It should be noted that gradually Bangladeshi Freedom Fighters were being raised in two different types of forces, namely, 1. The sector guerilla troops, who would infiltrate deep inside occupied enemy territories and blend within the cities and villages to continue coordinated subversive activities as ambush and blow up operations of culvarts and pylons as well as other specified targets. They would be called the FFs or Freedom Fighters. They would be under Sector Commanders. 2. Formation troops, or regular professional soldies called MF or Mukti Fouj, who would form the regular army battalions under the three Bangladeshi brigade strength formations, “Z”, “S” and “K” Force under Zia, Shafiullah and Khaled, the three original field commanders of the Liberation Forces. They would function as regular army units for conventional warfare. For “Z” Force, the three battalions, 8 E. Bengal, 1 E. Bengal and 3 E Bengal were already raised under command of Lt. Col. Ziaur Rahman. Zia became the first Formation commander of Bangladesh Army commanding three battalions of Infantry soldiers. Three more battalions were being raised under command of Lt. Col. Shafiullah, in sector 3, namely 2 E. Bengal, 11 E. Bengal and 12 E. Bengal as ‘S’ Force. Lt. Col. Shafiullah became commander of “S” Force and Major Nuruzzaman was posted as the sector commander of sector 3, with sector troops under him. The other three Battalions being raised under Khaled as “K” Force were 4 E. Bengal, 9 E. Bengal and 10 E. Bengal regiments. Khaled became formation commander of these three batallions. He also remained Sector Commander of Sector 2 with all the sector troops under him. Thus among the three formation commanders, only Khaled had both formation and sector troops under him. The group of hand picked freedom fighters from different sectors, selected for commission and sent for an intensive Officer’s training course at a place called ‘Murti’ in India near Nepal border, completed their course and were posted mostly in these newly raised battalions as officers in October. The second batch of trainees were still under training at the academy when the final offensive began and the country was liberated.

The first Artillery unit of Bangladesh Army was raised in Sector II under command of Captain Pasha. It was named after the leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and was called 1″ Mujib Battery In Sector II, from just one battalion we raised three infantry battalions, an artillery battery and more than 20000 FF troops. We ran coordinated guerrilla activities in Dhaka City, Dhaka, Comilla, Noakhali and Faridpur Districts. Fought many wars with Pakistan army of different scales. Killed and captured many Pakistani soldiers in the act of war, lost a number of friends in the war, witnessed casualties and gradually became hardened war veterans. Khaled wanted me to come and stay in Melaghar so that I could concentrate fully to the medical needs in the sub-sectors. He thought I got too involved with the hospital. Which is true. Apart from my emotional attachment to the hospital I helped to build from day one, I had a personal commitment to the girls working there. Most of these girls came from families closely known to me. They were doing a great job. Least we could do for them is to provide security. We had good doctors, but they were all civilians. It wouldn’t be an easy task for a civilian to take command of an army establishment. A situation could develop any moment involving the girls. Their security being my personal concern I could not leave the hospital without ensuring that someone proper is in charge. Therefore, I worked for the sector most of the time, but I still stayed at the hospital. Parents of Captain Haider crossed over to India in Late September. Haider’s sister Sitara came with them. It was good news for us because Sitara was from Army Medical Corps. I went to meet Sitara. Lulu came with me too. I requested Sitara to come and join us in the hospital. But she declined to do so because she said, she had to look after her parents. Few days later, Haider convinced Sitara to join the hospital. It was October. I shifted to Melaghar HQ. Subeder Major Mannan also came with me. Subeder Shawkat became Subeder Major of Bangladesh Hospital. Even after shifting to Melaghar, I had a tent to myself in Bisramganj. I often stayed there at night. 20th of October was our first marriage anniversary. We were newly married when the war broke out, and it was already end October. We gave a grand party at the hospital on this occasion. Dr. Chatterjee brought a 16-mm film ‘Pother Panchali’. It was shown after the party.

Khaled’s Head Injury

Two days later, on 22 October, Khaled was injured. A shrapnel from enemy artillery shell hit him on the forehead. This happened during his visit to Kamlasagar observation post opposite Kasba railway station. It was the launching of 9 East Bengal Regiment with a coordinated attack on enemy positions in Kasba. Capt. Ainuddin of Montola sub-sector and CO of the newly raised battalion waited for Khaled since dawn. Khaled wanted to attend the pre set attack.

But he came late, at about 8-30 in the morning. He with his entourage went up the hill of Kamlasagar to have a good view when enemy gun fired. Ainuddin followed the sound of fire correctly and knew that the shell would hit them point blank. He shouted ‘jump’ and himself jumped to a side. Khaled did not react to the warning in time. The shell landed on the spot where they stood. A fragment hit Khaled on the forehead. Capt. (Retd.) Sujat Ali MP was hit in the belly. Ainuddin came out unscratched. Khaled was taken to Indian Army Field Hospital 160 GH at Agartala. When I heard the news, I went to Agartala to meet him. The metallic artillery piece created a lacerated injury on Khaled’s forehead before entering the frontal lobe where it was lodged and remained suspended in the center of the frontal lobe. It was clearly seen in the X-ray plate. Khaled was fully conscious and talking. At one point he asked me in a low voice to get him the pee-pot. We usually call it urinal. So at first I could not understand what he was looking for. Khaled repeated the same word ‘pea-pot’. Still it was not clear to me. But Khaled would not tell in any other language probably because this contraption did not have a socially acceptable name in Bangla; and there were lady visitors around. Then he was angry, and loudly said ‘the pea-pot’ and pointed at it in the corner. This was an indication that his logical thinking functions were working inspite of the brain injury. Next day Khaled was taken to Gauhati and on to Lakhnow for further treatment. The artillery piece remained lodged in the frontal lobe of his brain.

The Changes

Khaled’s departure from the war field with this injury may not have been irreversible. But even if he gets well soon, it would take him much longer to become fighting fit again. Consequently, chances of Khaled’s coming back in command of Sector II and K Force would be remote. Even if he recovers fully, how far and how deep this traumatic injury would
190
influence Khaled’s basic intelligence and thinking process, only time could tell. For the present, Khaled’s absence from scenario at a crucial juncture of time would cause the Liberation movement an irreparable damage. Khaled often coined a phrase “Nobody is indispensable’, but Sector II and Khaled were inseparable like body and soul. Sector II was built around the spirit of Khaled. This build up continued throughout the past seven months. Sector II meant Khaled’s spirit and aspiration. Though Khaled was merely a sector commander, on his own initiative he changed and convinced the international opinion on the existence of liberation struggle beyond control of the Pakistanis; and was able to do so by conducting coordinated guerrilla activities in Dhaka city. Khaled recognized the potential strength of the young, intelligent, educated and urban student community who had more pride and patriotism than they had any political faith. With this building material and Khaled’s vision, Haider created an urban guerrilla force that could blend into any scenario between five star hotels to country fish markets. This was the force that played havoc with Pakistan Army and their credibility within the city. Frequent blowing up of electricity carrying pylons caused disruption of normal activity of life and clearly indicated that Liberation forces existed within the country, and were in turn slowly creeping into other people’s lives. This had a very demoralizing effect on Pakistanis and gave hopes to Bengali Nationals within occupied areas. In spite of the void in Sector II created by absence of Khaled, He remained omnipresent in the Liberation war. Most of his ideas with far reaching effects were turned into actions and his concept of guerrilla warfare as originally envisaged by Khaled and stated by him in the meeting at Brahmanbaria Titas Gas rest house on 27th of March “71, persuaded and executed successfully in Sector II, was already accepted and adopted as the major policy for the Liberation Army.
After Khaled’s injury, Major Salek was brought in from Shaldanadi sub-sector as the PSO of K Force and Major Haider became Sector Commander of Sector 2. Zafar Imam, Ainuddin and Gaffar, three of the other sub-sector commanders were already posted as CO of the three battalions of ‘K’ Force. All other officers of Sector 2 were relocated, mostly in the newly formed battalions. Regular troop recruitment, training and posting was complete. The three battalions were in position in their respective areas. Sector troops gradually infiltrated into Bangladesh to pre-determined locations with specific tasks. Consequently, Sector 2 Head Quarter at Melaghar slowly became empty. With these changes, sector activities as developed in earlier days were phased off. The training barracks and the training grounds became empty. The hospital remained in place at Habul Banarjee’s Litchu Bagan without much work. I was posted back to the new 4 EBR at Shaldanadi as RMO. Since after Khaled’s departure from Sector II, the hospital administration ran into conflicts. The new commander Capt. Sitara and the new SM Shawkat at the hospital did not have link with the unique development process of the hospital. They tried to run the hospital as a regular army unit with enforcement of chain of command, discipline, orders, duties and execution of orders and ran into trouble, especially with the girls who had so far considered the hospital to be their home and themelves as family members. They treated and nursed injured and sick Freedom Fighters like family members rather than as ‘patients’. It was of no consequence to the girls whether Bangladesh Hospital at Bisramganj was of military or civil in nature as long as they had the freedom to do their work. Because of their dedication to their work, the girls became the basic essence of the whole medical show. Salek the newly posted PSO for K Force was informed of the situation. But he was also unable to fathom the existing problem. Being very much an army man, he equated most things as black and white and did not see anything wrong from administrative point ofview. Salek was also a childhood friend of Lulu and Tulu and he requested the girls to stay on. But the girls finally decided on 8 November to quit. When I heard about it, I came over from Shaldanadi. Salek was also there to see them off. The girls were ready and packed. Most of the patients and staff were sad and were in tears to bid farewell to the girls. Salek was surprised to see that these girls were so popular among the staff and patients. On 9h of November, Lulu, Tulu, Khuku, Minu, Asma, Reshma and Zakia left the hospital and went to Agartala to Dr. Dey’s house, and were off to Calcutta by the next available flight. With the girls gone, my moral responsibility for the hospital was finally over. The road back to Shaldanadi seemed very long and lonely that evening. Gone were Khaled, Shamsuddin, Dalia, Bahar, Jamal and now the girls were gone too. With these people I shared many dreams. The good old days seemed by gone. The golden boat of time would reap the harvest of life and would pass by without taking me on board. But we all had miles to go before reaching destination. Two more things happened around the same time. Inspired by what they had seen in Bisramganj hospital, some political leaders like Rafia Akhtar Dolly arranged a nurse’s training camp in Gobra, W. Bengal with recruits from refugee camps. The first batch of these trainee girls arrived and joined the hospital and Zafrullah Chowdhury, after returning from a trip abroad became the chief of the hospital in November.
193
Book 6
Shaldanadi
4 East Bengal Regiment Total officers in the new 4 E. Bengal were six. Including me it became seven. Captain Gaffar was the CO., Capt. Fazlul Kabir was 2 I/C. Four new officers from 1″ S.S., Jamiluddin Hasan, Hasmi Mustafa Kamal, Mumtaj Hasan and Fazlur Rahman, all 2 Lieutenants, were the four company commanders. I completed a full cycle and was back into 4 Bengal as RMO, my original posting since Brahmanbaria. I started my new life in 4 E. Bengal. We made a large underground MI Room with tent and tarpaulin on top. Beds and tables were cut out from underground digging. Usually the morning sick report in Melaghar or in training camps comprised of allergic skin rash from pollen of Shal tree, dysentery and diarrhoea from poor sanitation, training injuries, cough and cold, fever of various types and gunshot or shell injuries. In Shaldanadi most of the personnel were young uniformed soldiers who had completed their training. They were vibrant and full of life. Food clothing and shelter well provided for. Rarely anybody was sick in here. Except for war injuries, general sick report was almost non existent. Therefore I had almost no work. So I changed my daily routine and started visiting our forward positions to remain busy and useful. To visit all the forward positions it would easily take a whole day. At night I lived in a tent with Kabir who was previously in Dhanpur and now the 2 1/C. Gaffar the CO lived in a built up house next door. Shaldanadi was a regular battlefield. Shooting, artillery firing, ambush and raids were nominal everyday affairs. A cessation of all gunfire for any given hour would cause serious concern in all quarters as to what is wrong. The place we stayed at night was near the border but our activity was spread out deep into Bangladesh territories. The four companies were located at four flanks facing west north and south. We had some artillery support from Mujib battery under Capt. Pasha. We also inherited the jeep-mounted 105-mm RR of old 4 EBR, which was brought down from the jeep and was taken to the front by hand during coordinated attacks on Pakistani positions. Local boys who criss-crossed the land during firing and shelling without fear carried the shells of the RR.

Nuru the Lion Hearted

Some of the local boys fought side by side with our troops. Occasionally they were absorbed in regular strength and were given uniform. I am sure they had to earn it. One day during my routine visit to troops I saw a platoon to fall in. In the line there was a small boy in full uniform with the regular troops. The uniform was very loose and he had to give a number of folds on the hands and the pants and yet his uniform was too big for his size. As a result he was looking like a toy soldier but surprisingly no one treated him as a toy soldier. Rather his companions treated him as an equal. The boy was jubilant with his childish movement and jumping up and down the place. I asked the platoon commander about the boy. His name was Nuru. He was nine years old. He was from a village nearby. Their house was burnt down and his parents were shot and killed by Pakistan Army. Nuru came over and had rifle training. Then his job was to sneak over to enemy territory and lay in ambush for hours waiting for targets. This way he killed a number of Pakistani soldiers. Eventually he had been accepted as a regular soldier. The platoon commander asked Nuru to tell us about his experience of the day. Nuru gave us a childish grin and what he said in local dialect is as follows, He was in ambush across a rising bush when two enemy soldiers advanced towards him. When they were within range, Nuru shot and hurt one of the two and was trying to shoot at the other on the run. Suddenly Nuru saw that the second soldier was not running any more and looked towards the place where Nuru was waiting to squeeze the trigger. The Pakistani just stood there as if there is no danger of another bullet coming to get him. Nuru was curious, he also waited to see why the Pakistani was standing there instead of running away at top speed. The Pakistani soldier then walked step by step to the place where his companion had fallen. The soldier picked up his companion on his shoulder and walked slowly away. All that time Nuru held the Pakistani soldier on his gun sight but did not shoot. “Why didn’t you shoot?” I asked Nuru. “I don’t know,” Nuru said smilingly. “What do you mean you don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know!” as an afterthought he added, “Because he was a good man, may be.” Nuru said with a childish grin. And he went running back to his platoon. Sound of Music I was getting used to different kinds of sounds of the battlefield like one gets used to different sounds in a jungle created by animals, birds, rustling of leaves and warning calls or of rain falling on the treetop. It is important to keep track of these sounds and be able to identify each one. The very survival of the individual depends on it.

Similarly, in a battlefield, one gets to identify each sound for its significance. Most commonly heard sound in the battlefield were the single shots of .303 rifle and short bursts from Chinese SMG (submachine gun). The .303 single fire shot has a piercing sound. It indicates a para-military soldier from enemy side. The Indian semi automatic rifle SLR26 (self-loading rifle) makes a cracking sound quite different from either .303 or other semi-automatic rifles while the G-3 rifle (held by some of the Pakistan army units) gave two sounds. One at source and another at the receiving end. So it was called tak-doom. Bullets passing overhead or next to the head made whistling and hissing sound in succession following gunfire. Of all the sounds, shell and mortar fires needed high degree of attention. It is very important for survival. One must train hard to pick up sounds of cannon fire and to identify the type of cannon, whether it is a friendly fire or enemy fire. A friendly fire needs only a casual attention and one has to wait for the sound of it’s landing at a far off enemy target. And then to keep one ear open to detect any return enemy fire. Enemy gunfire can be identified from the type of gunfire and location of sound. In case of enemy fire one needs to follow the
————–
26. SLR is made and meant to be a semi-automatic rifle. At Sector 2,
Captain Haider took up a project to transform the SLR into a fully automatic weapon. With assistance of engineering student Basher, the weapon was converted into automatic. Then some handpicked Freedom Fighters were taught how to do the job. In Crack Platoon only Siraj was given this training. During the final thrust to Dhaka this automatic device was put to use at random by Sector 2 boys. Apart from the increased firepower, the unnatural sound generated was confusing. It probably kept the already retreating enemy guessing as to how many machine guns were following them. There have been reports of burst barrels following prolonged automatic use.
———-
sound of incoming shell with full attention. If there were no sound of the incoming shell at all, it would mean that the shell is directed at some place else. Sometimes the shell would be heard to be coming with a whistling sound and pass overhead. That also does not spell any imminent danger. But if the incoming sound suddenly stops being heard, that would mean that the shell would land somewhere very close. In this situation, one must jump for cover. A delayed response or failure to identify sounds correctly could be very costly. This is exactly what happened with Khaled on 22 October 1971 as has been told earlier. If this accident could be avoided, Khaled would still remain commander of ‘K’ force and Sector II. For the final thrust to Dhaka, he would have been leading his forces. Judging from his style of the previous months, it is difficult to imagine Khaled being anywhere but in Dhaka on the day of surrender. After surrender of Pakistan Army on 16th of December 1971, the legal authority of the newly independent country, Bangladesh govt. in exile, still in Calcutta did not have representation in the capital except for the armed forces, and there was a vacuum of moral authority in the streets of Dhaka. Without an effective civil or police force in place, the vacuum was needed to be filled up by a disciplined force under strong leadership who could impose authority. Shafiullah was in Dhaka, but without his sector troops in Dhaka City, he didn’t have control over the men on the street. Zia did not have sector troops under his command and all his formation troops of ‘Z’ force were stationed far away from Dhaka on 16th December 1971. The rebellion of Zia and Shafiullah was confined to the month of March 1971. Since then, all through to the end they fought the war in a law abiding, obeying, honest and fearless fashion expected of a dutiful army officer. Neither of these two most important commanders of Liberation Army thought in the line of seizing initiative, take charge of the moral authority on the streets of Dhaka and restore law and order. It was probably outside the charter of duties as a law abiding dutiful officer of a regular non-political army. But there is a point to ponder. As the creation of Liberation Army through rebellion was a political decision, and actively participating in the war of liberation was a political action, one might argue that an effort to restore law and order in the country and in Dhaka following 16″ of December 1971, were or not within the jurisdiction of Liberation army. But Khaled could have been different. He might not have waited for an order to do something if he thought it was the right thing to do. Khaled had total control of Dhaka guerrillas. He would have seized the initiative, taken control of Dhaka and would have imposed discipline. In absence of Khaled, control of Dhaka City after surrender of Pakistani forces, was in the hands of Maj. Haider with the guerrilla troops of Sector II. A fine and hard working commando officer that he was, Haider neither had the seniority nor was he an administrator. Without long and short-term objective, the initiative was soon lost. Throughout the whole country, in the absence of effective political or military leadership, Anarchy rolled on like molten lava and eroded social order and morality. Opportunists came out of their hidings as soon as bullets stopped flying and took over. The spirit of Liberation war became history.

The Forward Area

Shaldanadi was a death trap for Pakistani troops. Probably this was the single most expensive spot for Pakistan army throughout the nine month in terms of casualty. Almost everyday there used to be sit-rap from Sector II with mention of some Pakistani casualties in Shaldanadi. In one of his visits to Sector II HQ, Col. Osmani said he is not sure about the reports of high number of Pakistani casualties from this sector, specially from Shaldanadi /Mondobhag. He said we must show him some bodies. The same day a platoon of Pakistan Army troops fell victim to our ambush. Many were dead and some were mortally wounded. One young lieutenant was taken to Agartala Hospital where he died after a few hours. Information came to HQ to send a transport to bring the bodies. I went with my pick up to collect the bodies. Miron was with me during my return with the bodies.27 Pakistanis were armed to the teeth. G3 rifle, SMG and LMG with huge amount of ammunition were part of the booty. With all these evidence, Col. Osmani was convinced that our situation reports were not fictitious. Our area of operation was widely spread out. Geographical layout of the border was to our favor. We could cover good many miles without being detected and lay in ambush on the main highway, which, in spite of being vulnerable was in constant use by enemy troops for movement. And then there was the river Salda called Saldanadi. The river was also used by occupation troops for movement and patrolling by petrol boats. Therefore there was no shortage of targets. Most of our troops in the area became seasoned guerrilla fighters. Some of the JCO and NCOs became famous on both sides of the border. Pakistan army declared prize money of 20,000 rupees for Subeder Wahab of 4 E. Bengal Regiment dead or alive. Shorts and Indian jungle boot were the choice of uniform for most of the troops. But for the serious contender of long range ambush and raid party, the perfect battle dress was lungi, gamcha and barefoot. It was most convenient, effective
———–
27. Many years later Brigadier Miron Hamidur Rahman reminded me of an
incident while returning from Shaldanadi with the bodies and some prisoners. Miron was then a young freedom fighter. He was with me at the back of the pick up truck. At one point, Miron tied a handkerchief around his nose to avoid smell from the bodies. Which I thought was a disrespect to human body regardless of whether it belonged to an enemy or a friend. So I disciplined him by taking the piece of cloth away from and held his face against a corpse.
———-
200
and one could blend with the surroundings instantly. It would be near impossible to detect a Bengali soldier from an ordinary villager while one could tell a Pakistani in any camouflage miles away. Shaldanadi was one of the strongest fortresses of the Pakistan Army. The underground bunkers along the railway lines were fortified with railroad beams. Normally these were impregnable. As an inauguration ceremony of the three battalions of Sector II namely 4, 9 and 10 EBR, a three battalion attack was launched on the Shaldanadi position, with support of 1100 rounds of medium gun fire from Indian Artillery units. But the attack was effectively repulsed by Pakistani defense. They remained in the position steadfastly. Our troops stayed there in close proximity with the Pakistanis for a long time. We used to tease and talk with them in walkietalkie. While Salek was in Shaldanadi, on the day of Shab-ebarat, 5″-6″ October, he proposed a cease-fire to Pakistani Subeder for the day “Saab, aj Shab-e barat hai, sham ko chey baje se cease-fire hoga.” The Subeder tried to be smart, “Nei sir, saat baje se hoga.” So Salek organized an attack at exactly six and shot down some enemy soldiers. When other soldiers came to pick up the bodies, they were also shot at. At last the Subeder had to beg, “Sir, ub to baas karo.” And cease-fire was established for the day. At Mondobhag, my routine was to walk the whole circuit of our territory every day. Our companies were spread out over a territory of no less than ten miles. It would take a whole day to encompass all the units. On my way I used to take lunch at any of the units when it was lunchtime. But I liked most to go to Belayet’s Platoon in Charlie Company. Lt. Jamil commanded Charlie Company. Belayet was a sergent in C Company while we were in Brahmanbaria. He was a smiling and cheerful person, a trusted and dependable soldier. During the uncertain
days in Brahmanbaria, he was one of the very few, who was trusted by Major Shafaat to be on our side. Belayet later became a JCO. His camp was next to the railway line. I liked to bask in the sun lying on a mat. In spite of the raging war, there was no shortage of natural beauty of the landscape. I used to take deep breath and inhale the rich wind blown over the rippling green field. Belayet was from Swandip. His wife and children lived there. He also managed to give them a visit in the mean time. Belayet pulled off a miracle one day.

Subeder Belayet and Battle of Shaldanadi

The coordinated routine attack on Pakistani positions was to take place at dawn and it did. By morning the attack died down in other company positions but Belayet of Charlie Company did not let down. One of his fellow freedom fighter was hit by a bullet and died. This loss of life infuriated Belayet. He wanted to avenge the death of his compatriot. He continued firing and was constantly asking for permission to cross the river and continue attack. C.O. 4 EBR, Capt. Gaffar was reluctant to grant permission to Belayet to cross the river. The day’s attack was supposed to be a routine practice with limited logistic support, not a sustainable operation, let alone a ground-gaining scheme. We knew that and the Pakistanis knew that. At the end of attack we planned to go for breakfast and I am sure, Pakistanis also would have done the same. Only Belayet wouldn’t listen. The CO, Capt. Gaffar, Kabir and myself were all present at the battalion operation room. Sahadat came to visit me the day before. He was also present. Belayet kept on crackling in the walkie-talkie for permission to cross the river. Gaffar, no less firebrand himself, had a conference in Agartala at 11 a.m. Before getting into the jeep, he finally approved the move to Belayet. “Okay, go. May God protect you.” and he left for Agartala. With that all hell broke loose. Belayet with some of his troops jumped into the river and swam across while others gave covering fire. Smelling action, Subeder Wahab came and joined in the attack. The jeep mounted 105-mm recoilless rifle known as RR, of original 4 EBR, along with its operator JCO, were inherited by the present 4 EBR. The gun was long modified to a ground attack support weapon. The RR and the bald JCO became a part of the scenario during any serious attack. There used to be plenty of local kids to help him carry the gun and shells through any territory at any time. Hand carried to the front; the enemy used to get it’s full blast from a point blank range, with no exception this time. Belayet reached the other side of the river with his party and blew off one or two enemy bunkers. Then he pushed on his charge from bunker to bunker. No one expected this kind of a turn of events arising out of a routine shooting match. The intensity of the attack was too much for the enemy to bear. They started to retreat. I could smell a magnificent battle going on out at the front. After Gaffar left, Myself and Sahadat came up to the front to see first hand what was happening. Belayet was then moving forward like a steamroller and was sending POWs to the rear. Enemy troops started to abandon the bunkers one after another. First in a trickle, then en masse. By lunchtime, main Pakistani stronghold at Shaldanadi station came under our control. Shortly afterwards I reached there with Sahadat. In the main bunker we saw heaps of arms and ammunitions, personal belongings of the Pakistanis (32 Punjab, as we came to know from the papers and insignias). In the cookhouse, we saw rows of rounded dough of flour on platters, waiting to be made into chapati, the fire in the cooker still burning. The only thing the Pakistanis could carry in their flight was their own lives. The position, from which the Pakistanis could not be dislodged by a coordinated attack by our three battalions with full support of Indian artillery only a few weeks ago, an angry Belayet captured the same position with his platoon. This was sensational news for anyone who knew what it meant. Congratulations came to 4 EBR and Gaffar from all over the place and persons including Lt. Gen. Sagat Singh, the Indian 4 Corps Commander. Sagat Singh promised to come over to personally congratulate the victorious troops. Belayet became his normal smiling self once again after he had his way with the battle.

Death of Belayet
The area within our possession became wide spread after we captured Shaldanadi. Our capability to keep the whole area under control was stretched to limit. So it was decided by the Big Wigs that a couple of companies from an Indian Gurkha Regiment would take over control of part of the area captured. Accordingly some officers from the Gurkha Regiment were to come to our headquarters. It was the third day after Shaldanadi war. We arranged a large party in honour of the guests that would come with Lt. Gen. Sagat Singh to congratulate us. Brigadier Sabek Singh of Delta Sector was our direct superior officer stationed at Shalbagan, Agartala. He came early, ahead of others when the major from Gurkha regiment with couple of others arrived. Gaffar asked Belayet to take the Gurkha officers to the front and give them the briefing. I also went along the group to the front. At the end of the Shaldanadi station we had set up our MG post aimed towards Nayanpur, the next railway station under enemy possession. The whole stretch of railway track from there to Comilla was under enemy possession. We went to the MG post and looked over the stretch along the railway lines, by the side of that were rows of bunkers belonging to the Pakistanis. But they were not of any good use to them, as the whole stretch was directly under our line of fire. In fact during the short while we were there, we saw a Pakistani soldier coming out staggering from one bunker and trying to get in to the next one. He was out of MG range, yet I tried to hit him with a trajectory shot but could not. Then I left the group there and came back to headquarters. It takes about half an hour to reach the HQ from front. When I almost reached, I saw Gaffar and Kabir standing there with very worried faces. Gaffar told me to run quickly back to where I came from. Belayet is reportedly been hit. I turned and ran towards the point where I just came from. Only a while ago I left Belayet smiling somewhere out there. I hoped and prayed whatever it was, may it not be serious. I ran as fast as I could. But I did not have to go very far. They carried Belayet on a makeshift stretcher and were approaching my way. Coming nearer they lowered the stretcher. Belayet was lying there motionless with his eyes closed. His shirtfront on the left side was soaked and red. I flung open his shirt. There was a small hole on his chest. I was groping around for some movement, some sign of life or a heart beat. But there was none. Only some bubbles of air and blood oozed out. Belayet was gone. A single bullet stole his life away. I sat there for a while by his side, not really knowing what to do. “Rest in peace now my friend, you look so tired”, is all I could say.

The Eid Holidays
When Khuku flew off to Calcutta along with the other girls from hospital on 11″ November, I briefed her to send me a telegram around 15″/16″ quoting, “wife serious, come sharp.” I wrote down the phrase on a piece of paper and bought a plane
205
ticket for Agartala-Calcutta sector for 19 of November, before returning to Shaldanadi, and waited patiently for the telegram. The telegram came in time, on 17″. Gaffar came from Agartala and told me, “Probably Bhabi is sick. A telegram has come from Calcutta, asking you to go there. But I think this is nothing, she just wants you to be there during Eid.” Gaffar was right of course, but I did not see any reason to help him with the truth. On 19 November, I was on the plane to Calcutta. The plane came via Gauhati. I had a window seat on the left side. On the way to Calcutta, it was getting to be evening just after sunset. From the plane I could see the moon. The thin new moon had to be seen to confirm that Eid prayer would be held next day the 20″ of November. I was feeling a great sense of peace and nostalgia that tomorrow I would be offering my prayer in BaraTajpur, my ancestral home in Hoogly. From Calcutta, I went to Bara-Tajpur that same night with my cousin Abul Hasan Mullick, Hasnu Bhai. Bara-Tajpur though now in a different country, being my birthplace never fails to give me a special kind of contentment and peace of mind. This time was no different. The village mosque is a fine work of art and Islamic architecture. This was helped to build by my forefathers. Eid congregation and prayer were traditionally held in the mosque. I spent the next two lazy days just enjoying home cooking done by my grandmother and aunt. My wife Khuku had a better time than the first time around, as Lulu, Tulu, Keka and other girls living in Calcutta had been in close contact with her. They came to Bara-Tajpur with the whole gang one day and had a great time. My Chachababu, a strong conservative, have been very kind and understanding to the girls from Dhaka. Even when the girls went bathing in the garden pond he did not disapprove. During my stay, I went and met the friendly gentry on the other side of the Begumpur railway station. They have been following the events around Bangladesh movement very closely and with the same keen interest. As a bona fide man from the front, which they rarely come across, I had to give them detailed account of our accomplishments, further possibilities, troops build up and my predictions. The signs of impending war were too obvious. Everyday the Dday was getting closer. I could feel it in my bones. Flights breakes Calcutta and Agartala would suspend when war brakes out. So I did not dare to wait much longer in Calcutta and confirmed my ticket back to Agartala. But to return was not easy. Khuku wouldn’t let me go. It is not an easy thing to bid farewell to the husband going back to a unit, which would soon be engulfed in a full-scale war. I had to convince Khuku that we had two choices. One was to go to war. If I survive through, then I would be back some day. But if I stay in Calcutta, then I would remain alive but she would not be able to respect me for the rest of our lives for ducking the war. Ahrar also wanted to come with me but his sister Keka vehemently objected. She wouldn’t allow him to go back to the front either. She requested me to dissuade Ahrar from going to the front. Sahadat, Ahrar and Alvi were the three intellectuals of Sector II. When our guerrilla network blew up in Dhaka, Alvi also got caught by Pakistan Army along with Altaf Mahmood and some others. Pakistan army eventually killed most of our boys after torture. But they let Alvi go. May be it was his innocent looks that saved him, or may be he could not tell them anything worth while in spite of torture. But they wrenched off all his nails before they let him go. Alvi came back to the sector. After Khaled was injured, the three of them got displaced in the ensuing changes. Sahadat shacked up somewhere in Agartala, Alvi and Ahrar went to Calcutta.2 Logically Keka was right. Ahrar did not have any specific responsibility in the front. So he had the option to enjoy the safety of life in Calcutta. But Ahrar was adamant to go with me. It was not a call of duty. May be he just did not want to be away from the front during the final hours. But what about the risk factor? When the full-scale war breaks out, Ahrar or myself would be no bigger than a spec in the whole scenario. The question of continuity of our lives through the war and turmoil would be irrelevant. Ahrar was intelligent enough to understand that and yet he wanted to go. It means his heart was there with his fellow freedom fighters in the front. So who was I to stop him. He came back to Agartala with me. In Agartala, I heard unconfirmed news that Samad is killed in action. One of my closest friend from Dhaka, Ashfaqus Samad was among the very first to join the Liberation war. He had been a freedom fighter in Sector 2. While he was in Motinagar training camp, he often came to my place at Sonamura Forest Resthouse and spent hours gossiping. He got his Commission with Manzoor and others and was posted somewhere in Rangpur area. He used to often coin a phrase, “kobe khorcha hoia jamu!” meaning, I could get spent any day. In Bengali it really means that for the sake of liberation of the country, I value my life as much as one values and spends couple of rupees. Now finally he got what he was ready for. He got spent. The same day when I heard the bad news, Samad’s Parents
———-
28. After the war, Ahrar went off to USA and did his Ph.D. in Economics.
Currently he teaches in an American university. Alvi, remained an artist in Dhaka. One of the most unassuming and friendly person I ever met, Alvi is now a professor in the Art College at Dhaka. Shahadat went in to publishing and became an editor. Shahadat died of natural causes in 2005.
———
crossed the border and came to Agartala. Normally Samad’s mother, Mrs. Sadeka Samad, a renouned headmistress in one of the famous girls schools in Dhaka, was a very strict mother. She always kept a tight rein on her children. Samad was never allowed to come out of home at late hours. She used to be annoyed if Samad’s friends went to meet him at odd hours. If he ever did so and later caught by his mother, he was summarily disciplined. We were also not spared from her tounge lashing. Samad’s younger brother Ulfat, also a freedom fighter from our sector and a close friend of my younger brother Manzoor, was with the parents when I met them in Agartala. Ulfat also heard the bad news. We were not sure if we should tell the parents about it. Pakistan army took Samad’s father into custody and reportedly tortured him for days before they let him go. Both of them looked so jubilant and vibrant with life after they came across the border away from Pakistani Army and smelling the air of freedom and having two of their sons in the liberation war. I could not bring myself together to be the deliverer of the news of death of their dear son. Next day they flew off to Calcutta.
———–
29. Mr. And Mrs. Samad, the parents of my friend Ashfaqus Samad heard
about the news of Samad’s death in Calcutta. Their short lived happiness after coming into India died out for ever. Mrs. Sadeka Samad could never really get out of the grief from the death of their dearest son. For many years, there used to be upto a dozen portrait of Samad hanging all over their living room.
———
209
Book 7
The War
Road to Bangladesh

Shortly after I returned to Shaldanadi, *Advance to contact Chittagong’ order came for Indo-Bangladesh joint command brigade group “KILO’ force under Brigadier Anand Swarup. Among Bangladeshi units 4 EBR under Capt. Gaffar, 10 EBR under Capt. Zafar Imam and 15 Mujib Battery under Captain Pasha were part of this brigade group. Among Indian units in *Kilo’ Force were two Mahar Battalions, a Mountain Artillery, a BSF group and a CRP battalion. Commander of ‘KILO’ force Brigadier Anand Swarup, an Indian Army officer, was a diminutive, handsome and soft-spoken person. Prior to this assignment he was the Commandant of the Indian Counter Insurgency School lately located near Melaghar in Tripura. The movement order came to 4 Bengal but the authorized number of transports were insufficient to haul all our arms and ammunitions. The reason being, we were holding far excess arms and ammunitions than we could possibly carry. From the very beginning, one of our worries was arms, ammunition and ration. Now, as things turned the way it did, with help from Indian Army, we have been able to tide over the last nine months successfully. We have gained strength as planned and now going for the attack. But things could have been different. We had to remain prepared for eventualities. So we saved arms and ammunitions as much as we could. Nirbhoypur sub-sector under Capt. Mahboob was the hidden armory of Sector II. And it remained so even after Khaled was injured. In 4 Bengal, we had full set of regular issue SLR, made in India. We also had our original Chinese set of arms and ammunitions. And then we had the accumulated G3 arms and ammunitions captured from Pakistani soldiers over nine months. All added up, we had an armoury for a brigade. Our Indian superior officers were aware of our hoard but they never objected to it. Though once in a while they commented that it would be interesting to see what happens when time to move comes. The move was finally done with help of extra vehicles arranged. It was 4h of December when our convoy moved out from Shaldanadi for advance to contact Chittagong. Once again I was in the ambulance. The same old driver Jahed Ali was driving the same old ambulance. But the difference was that the first time we went away from Bangladesh to gain strength, to get ready to fight. Now we are ready and going back to face the enemy.

The Tea stall at Belonia

Belonia is a small township on our route to Chittagong. The convoys of Kilo Force stopped there for a small halt. In Belonia we met with other units of Kilo force, both Indians and Bangladeshis. In fact the small town was swarming with soldiers and military vehicles of all kinds. Belonia was the last stop in India before entering into Bangladesh. We met officers of 10 Bengal, Capt. Zafar Imam, Capt. Mokhlesh, Lt. Dider Atwar Hossain and Lt. Syed Mizanur Rahman. We had a great time there for about an hour or so. There we went in a tea stall. It was a fairly large tea stall. Soldiers and civilians alike were occupying tables. We got one table and sat around it. But before we ordered anything, a waiter brought to me two rounds of rossogolla on a plate. I’ was surprised and asked the waiter, who gave the order? He pointed out to another table where two middle aged Hindu ladies were having tea. They looked like schoolteachers. One of the ladies with a thick mark of Sindur on her forehead looked at me and said, “Take the sweets my son. As your mother is not here to bless you on your way to the war, let me do that on her behalf. Please have the sweets before you go.” The lady then went back to conversation with her companion. I almost choked with emotion by this expression of human bondage from an unknown lady in Belonia. Then without any argument I ate both the rossogollas. On our way from Belonia towards Bangladesh, we were strafed by Pakistani jet fighters. One of our jeeps went up side down and Lt. Hasmi Mustafa Kamal broke his leg. Next day we put him in Feni hospital when we reached there.
The Showdown Feni was liberated on 4″ December. We reached the city on 5″| December. It is interesting to be in a place that has just changed hands. People looked relieved. But they were not very sure of themselves. At one corner of the road, when my driver honked at the crowd, some people looked startled and got scared. But in the next instant, they smiled and looked relaxed. For a moment there, they seemed to have forgotten that it is no more Pakistani occupation. Feni, being a vital link between northern and southern parts of the country, was one of the most well fortified townships where Pakistanis were expected to give us a fight. The whole length of the road through which we came had series of bunkers on both sides. Feni town itself was fortified with wellstocked bunkers to fight a long war. I entered some of the bunkers in Feni, just evacuated by the Pakistanis. The bunkers were huge, well built, connected with other bunkers by tunnels, well protected and well stocked with arms ammunitions and food enough to maintain the occupants for months. An army could be held off from these bunkers for a long time. But Pakistanis chose not to fight. They blew up some bridges and retreated towards Dhaka or Chittagong. 10 East Bengal Regiment under Capt. Zafar Imam was on vanguard duty for the “K” force Joint Command on the Feni-Chittagong main axis, and 4 East Bengal Regiment under Capt. Gaffar was also on vanguard duty on the Fathikchori-Hathazari route. Both the battalions chased the Pakistan Army in hot pursuit up to Chittagong

Three Warring Parties
Pakistanis
Throughout 1971 Pakistan was the aggressor and Bangladeshis were the victims. By their own admission, Pakistan was trying to restore order in the country, save the integrity of the country, uphold the constitution, and punish those who betrayed the nation. All through ’71 they have been looking everywhere for Mukti’ (freedom fighters) because they were the traitors in Pakistani eyes, and they were looking for ‘Hindu’ just because they were Hindu. But as soon as the odds were against them, Pakistanis changed objectives. Self-preservation took priority over other matters. In the final analysis, Pakistan Army was found to be prepared to discharge their holy duty in East Pakistan as long as it was at the cost of unarmed victim’s lives, not at the cost of their own.
Bangladeshis The Freedom Fighters of Bangladesh were fighting this war to get back their dignity and to win back their country from Pakistani occupation. They were also fighting to avenge the insult, humiliation and wanton brutality the Pakistan Army dished out to them in the nine months. Indians Indians were the only party in this conflict who were not emotionally involved. The cordiality to the uprooted Bangladeshis in India by the Indian civil administration and army alike were real. But their whole game plan was also calculated out in cool brain. They were out to cut their archenemy Pakistan down to a size. As the Indians came in this war without being emotionally involved, it was expected that they would respect the Geneva Convention in POW related matters. Indians said they would. Pakistanis knew they would. But Bangladeshis were not expected to go by the book. Because the war between Pakistan and Bangladesh was not conventional. It was a war of attrition. As a result, none of the Pakistani troops surrendered to Bangladeshis. It is on record that at many places, Pakistanis waited to surrender for days till Indians arrived. Some Pakistani troops in different pockets fought bravely but by and large, all of them surrendered.

Advance to Contact Chittagong From Feni, we followed the retreating Pakistan Army towards Chittagong via Fatikchari Nazirhat route. The retreating Pakistan Army did not put up any resistance to us till we reached Fatikchari on 13″. Dr. Mobin and Morshed were in Bangladesh Hospital when we left Shaldanadi. Following our route, they came over to Fatikchari in the White hospital jeep. They told us that there was almost no new work at the hospital after all the freedom fighters left for Bangladesh. Only some of the previously admitted patients still remaining in the hospital required looking after. So they came over to see some action. There wasn’t of course much action around. The last battle we fought was on 14″ of December across the river in Fatikchari. We had one dead and Pakistanis had 14 dead in this battle. In the mean time lot of rumours were in the air. India was asking Pakistan Army to surrender; Pakistan was trying for cease-fire through the United Nations. Soviet Union was putting veto in the Security Council against Pakistani interest. American 7″ fleet was supposed to be on its way to Bay of Bengal to rescue the Pakistanis. We were in the darkness of Fatikchari, waiting for something to happen. On 16h morning we heard that surrender was more or less confirmed, then again Yahia Khan was broadcasting in the radio that war will go on. Finally on 16″ evening we got confirmed news that Pakistan Army has surrendered. In the “Race Course Maidan”, Lt. Gen. Niazi signed the surrender papers to Lt. Gen. Aurora, the Chief of Staff of the Joint Forces. Deputy Chief of Staff of Bangladesh Forces, Group Captain Khondkar represented Bangladesh Forces. I was contemplating the turn of events in the last nine months. On 27″ of March 1971 we started our journey into the unknown. It seems; at last we have reached the end of the road. Khaled’s gamble with Lady Luck has paid off. Destiny has favoured us. The road we left behind us seems so long and uphill. We have dug graves for many friends and great fighters all along the way. They are not with us today to witness this moment of glory. But our victory became noble with their sacrifices. I knelt down on my knees and prayed to God and thanked God for the justice done. Capt. Gaffar or Kabir did not seem to be highly impressed with the news of Pakistani surrender at Dhaka, as Pakistani units in Chittagong did not surrender yet. With the President of Pakistan last heard over radio, though in a heavily slurry voice and incoherent sentences, that war will continue ‘jang jari rahega.’ It was not certain if Chittagong troops of Pakistan army would follow Niazi and surrender. It just may so happen that local Pakistani commander decides to make a last stand to fight to the end for the sake of honor. That would be understandable because after all, to surrender is a disgrace.

Chittagong City
On 17″ morning, the war supposedly being over, I was eager to go to Chittagong as soon as possible, simply to be there. Our unit was still under orders to be at Fatikchari, but Gaffar did
215
not object to my going ahead of the unit. With Mobin bhai and Morshed and the white Indian jeep from Bangladesh hospital we set out towards Chittagong. The whole length of the road was almost empty. Nearing Chittagong we could sense an eerie feeling. That we were Mukti Bahini was obvious from the way we looked, and our vehicle with Indian registration. But people did not greet us with ‘Joy Bangla’ or any other welcoming gesture. Because Pakistani soldiers were still on the street marching with arms. They were probably going towards the cantonment to surrender but local people were confused of what was happening. They are not used see Mukti Bahini and Pakistan Army, both at the same time on the street before this day. We also did not expect to see Pakistani troops with arms marching past either. But there was no turning back. In any case these troops would not fight any more. For nine months they rampaged through the peaceful lives and dreams of East Pakistan, committing genocide. Now at the first show of resistance, the façade of bravery melted away. Now they would claim POW status and safety of life under Geneva Convention, which is meant for real soldiers. We went past the cantonment into the town. We met some troops from 10 E. Bengal. They already came to Hathazari across the hilly range from the Dhaka-Chittagong road axis. Zafar Imam was driving a Mercedes. Our excitement was in top gear. We were feeling jubilant and euphoric. We decided to go to Chittagong Medical College, where Mobin bhai graduated from. I also had some friends working there. At medical college, when they saw us, it was disbelief in their eyes. It was like announcing independence. People started shouting ‘Joy Bangla’ from all directions. People started embracing each other with emotion like Eid day. Some heavy weight Professors like Prof. Mannan of Medicine

and Prof. Nawab Ali of Surgery almost lifted me off my feet to take to their coffee table and offered me cigarette! Everybody wanted to know a little bit about us the Mukti Bahini. Some nurses presented me with a bouquet of roses. Suddenly we became celebrities. My father-in-law was recently transfarred to Chittagong as Additional District Judge. I did not have the address but I found out where they lived and went there. Khuku’s younger brother Khokon was coming out of the house for Friday prayer. He could not recognize me at first but then he did. He was excited and started calling everybody. They were all very happy and relieved to see me.
217
Book 8
Homecoming
Return to Dhaka

Next few days were spent in Chittagong in celebration. A huge gala party was arranged in the Naval Base for the victorious joint forces including the pilots and naval officers from Indian aircraft Carrier. Rum Gin and Whiskey flowed like water throughout the night. Then it was time to go home. All communications were cut off. Pakistanis removed all passenger planes to Burma before the surrender. We disrupted the train lines ourselves. Road bridges were all blown up. Therefore going to Dhaka from Chittagong was not easy. But Engineers Brigade of Indian Army did an excellent job. They opened road to Dhaka within a week from surrender. I received one posting order issued on 8″ December from our DGMS Office in Calcutta, in which I was ordered to take over command of my old unit, 40 Field Ambulance in Comilla. But first of all I needed to go home. It had been a long time I heard anything about anyone there. Last I heard of my brother Manzoor was that he was posted in 3 East Bengal Regiment and they were somewhere in Sylhet area. Time came to part with 4 East Bengal Regiment. Nine months ago I joined this regiment as a novice in the business of war. Now I am going back a veteran, scarred, proud and humbled. This unit which was my own for the last nine months has given me a lot. I shall be taking with me some unforgettable memory. It was the worst of times and it was the best of times through Brahmanbaria, Teliapara, Srimontopur, Motinagar, Melaghar and Shaldanadi. How our small little MI Room from it’s one bed hospital at Srimontopur grew up into a full sized professional organization called Bangladesh Hospital through Sonamura, Darogabagicha and Bisramganj by hard work and passion by some determined Bangladeshi boys and girls are never to be forgotten. I shall also be leaving behind some brave men in unmarked graves, who I am sure would now rest in peace because what they fought for has come true. We are a sovereign nation now. May be some day posterity will give them their due honor. We requisitioned some cars for our movement in Chittagong. I was using a Volkswagen beetle. Then the day of departure came. I did not have much to carry, just a bag and a small suitcase. I took them in the car and set off to Dhaka. Morshed and Khokon came along. An Indian soldier also joined in. At Daudkandi we stopped for the night. We had a great dinner of large shrimps from Meghna River. Total cost for dinner for four was Tk. 22.00 or about 2 dollars. But price was already on the rise. Indian soldiers on duty at Daudkandi were discussing that only a day before, price of eggs were 14 eggs per one Taka, now it was selling 12 eggs per one Taka. After dinner, Khokon worriedly asked, “Where are we going to sleep, where are the beds?” At first we did not understand what he was talking about. Then we laughed out loud. Nobody seemed to have asked this question in a long time. People slept as a natural part of living in whatever position they happened to be at the time. Beds were needless. Khokon was at home during the nine months of war. He would never understand the realities of life of a freedom fighter. Next morning, shortly after crossing Daudkandi and Meghna ferry, skyline of Dhaka came into view like a dreamland. We reached my locality Tikatuli when I saw my cousin Amirul. I asked him about Manzoor. He said, Manzoor called from Sylhet. He is okay. Thank God! I thought. Now it would be easier to enter home. My younger sister Shaheen was moving
around. She shouted in her shrill voice, “Mother, Mother, Bhaiya is here!” My mother came out smiling and embraced me. My father had gone to office. His office at Eden Buildings was not far from home. I drove down there and met him. After a long time I came home.

Trip to Calcutta Dhaka from 16″ December onwards was euphoria. Then General Sam Manek Shaw came to Dhaka in a special flight. I happen to be at the airport at that time. The plane on return trip to Calcutta was taking passengers. I got myself a seat in the plane and left my car with Ulfat. From Calcutta I reached Bara-Tajpur before lunch. Khuku had a bad cold. She was walking around with a woolen comforter around her neck. An unusual view, because she hated comforters. When she saw me, she started to cry aloud in broken voice like a child embracing me by the neck. Nani, my grandmother, came by and advised her, “Take charge of your own property well and proper.” The girls were all in Calcutta, Lulu, Tulu, Asma, Reshma, Minu, Keka and her family. Khaled recovered and came back to Calcutta from Lakhnow. He was staying at Dr. Sujit Dey’s house. With Khuku, Lulu and Tulu I went to meet him. There were a lot of people in the living room including Sujit Dey’s mother and sisters. Khaled was wearing a kurta and pajama and sat next to his wife in a sofa. He was talking slowly with a smiling face. He was very happy to see us. He gave me a photograph of him, which he autographed “With love, Khaled”. 30
——-
30. I still hold the photograph with Khaled’s writing “With love, Khaled”.
———-
220
It was good to see that Khaled recovered from his injury. But he lost his sharpness. His smile became dull and slow. The magic was gone. In the crowded room, I could not find my great commander, the larger than life Khaled Musharraf whom I first met in Brahmanbaria sitting in the open jeep with his head tilted back and smiling radiantly, and as we knew him all through in Sector 2. That Khaled was not there any more. He was probably gone forever and would remain lost in the Shal forests of Melaghar.”
———–
31. The part of Khaled’s brain that was hit and affected by the artillery
piece was frontal lobe. According to Encyclopedia Britannica. “The frontal lobes are the part of the brain most remote from sensory input and whose functions are most difficult to capture. They can be thought of as the executive that controls and directs the operation of the brain systems dealing with cognitive function. Indeed, the deficits seen after frontal lobe damage have been described as a “dysexecutive syndrome.” Frontal lobe damage can affect people in any of several ways, and the results are at once subtle and drastic. On the one hand, they may have difficulty initiating behaviour, in extreme cases being virtually unable to move or speak but more often simply having difficulty in getting started on a task. On the other, they may perseverate, being apparently unable to stop a behaviour once started. Rather than appearing apathetic and hypoactive, they are uninhibited, rude, and boorish. Such people may also have difficulty in planning and problem solving and may be incapable of creative thinking. Mild cases of this deficit can be revealed by a difficulty in solving mental arithmetic problems that are couched in words, even though it can be shown that the patient is capable of remembering the question and performing the required calculation. In such cases it appears that the patient simply cannot work out what to do, a difficulty described as a failure to select the appropriate cognitive strategy. A unifying theme in these disorders is the notion of inadequate control or organization of pieces of behaviour that may in themselves be well formed. Frontal lobe patients are easily distracted. Although their deficits may be superficially less dramatic than those associated with posterior
—————–
Back in Dhaka, it was goodbye time for many of us. His mission in the Liberation war completed, Mobin bhai left for London to celebrate Christmas. I trimmed off my nine month long hair and went back to barracks like the rest of the service personnel. The great days of Liberation War became flowers in gardens of memory.
————
lesions, they can have a drastic effect on everyday function. Irritability and personality change are also frequently seen after frontal lobe damage.” In independent Bangladesh, Khaled served in the Army to become Chief of General Staff with the rank of a Major General. Whether Khaled recovered fully from his injury, and evaluation of his activities in the post war period, are not within the perview of this book. But in later days I discussed this matter with many of Khaled’s close associates who worked closely with Khaled before his head injury and after head injury and asked them if they found any difference in his behaviour, particularly in a stress situation. All of them readily agreed that Khaled after head injury was visibly slower than before and the spark was lacking. On the last day of his life, facing inevitable death in a counter coup while he was having breakfast in an army mess, he howerer remained cool and did not beg for marcy. Reportedly he advised his fellow victims Col. Huda and Lt. Col. Haider to stay calm and face death with dignity. True to his legacy . Commander Khaled Musharraf died a brave man.
——–
222
Book 9
Epilogue
1. Comilla Cantonment

I did not find 40 Fd. Amb. in Comilla, when I came back after the war. I heard, the unit was moved to Mymensingh or somewhere there. But I could not go to find it. CO. CMH, Major Khurshid asked me to join him in reconstruction work in Comilla CMH. I was also posted in Comilla CMH as the staff surgeon. Later I got further busy in different reconstruction work of Comilla Garrison under Lt. Col. Ziaur Rahman, who was posted as the station commander in Comilla cantt. With a lead from the cantonment barber named Shil, a filled up ditch behind 53 Brigade HQ was excavated. It was actually a mass grave. The bodies of all the missing Bengali officers were found in there. All of them were in full uniform with ranks on their shoulders. The soil of the grave being sandy and dry, none of the bodies disintegrated. Except for the face the whole body remained intact. All the watches on the hands of the victims showed 31″ of March. Therefore we assumed that they were killed on 29th of March. We identified the bodies in different ways. We identified Lt. Col. Islam from the movement order in his pocket. It took us a long time to convince his wife that we had his dead body in Comilla. Some ‘Pagla Pir’ convinced her that her husband is alive. Atiq of Engineers was identified from his special boots. My friend Farooq was known as ‘Fatty Farooq’ in Medical College. Seven of our friends went to his Home in Bajitpur for his marriage. He was identified by the width of his waist. Nurul Imam Toorkey joined us in 40 Field Ambulance at the fag end of February. He had the nickname of Toorkey because of his fair looks. But he was skinny. He wanted to gain some weight in short order. We advised him to take a large beer every evening in the club. He used to do that. Toorkey’s mother came to Comilla when we sent information. She stayed in my house and stayed for a few days. She did not want to see her son’s body. But she identified his wristwatch. Toorkey’s brother-inlaw gave it to him as gift. Toorkey’s mother gave us some money to buy candles for her son’s grave. Then she went back home to Rajbari empty handed. Many other officers were in that death pit. Station Staff Officer Major Hasib, CO 40 Fd. Amb. Lt. Col. Jahangir, 2 I/C 40 Fd. Amb. Capt. Badiul Alam, Intelligence Officer Major Zaman and Captain Khaleq, Lieutenant Salahuddin of Engineers battalion and some others that could not be identified. It became the preoccupation of Major Khurshid and myself to dig out the bodies, identify them send information to relatives and give them proper burial with full military honor and gun salute. We buried Lt. Col. Jahangir at a beautiful spot in CMH and we buried others at a location behind the main MP check post of the Cantonment, in front of Ispahani School.” Brigade Commander Lt. Col. Zia attended each burial ceremony. Parents of Capt. Badiul Alam came to identify their son. They were waiting silently in the empty barracks of 40 Field Ambulance in front of the room where their son used to sit. They were from a very rural background. The father had thick glasses and walked with a cane. The mother was wearing a black veil. Their faces were a mixture of disbelief and pain. The old couple did not even complain. In the barren and defunct barracks of 40 Field Ambulance, standing in front of the room of their departed son, it was not easy for me to face the aging and innocent parents. Their boundless grief was far beyond my comprehension.
———-
32. A monument and a museum on Liberation War were created at the site
of the graves in 1972.
Before they left, the old lady blessed my head with her frail hand and said in a choked voice, “Baba re! katol mach er lahan polada achilo amar!” (My son was like a katla fish). In the dreams of this mother her son would always remain a fullbodied mighty Katla fish majestically swimming in the depths of calm water in a beautiful pond. A Katla or Katol fish is the largest and healthiest of fresh water fish in Bengal. In rural Bengal, a large Katal fish is a symbol of magnificence. It is regarded as a prized possession like a treasure. Usually people from rural background, spend their total assets to raise one child to the level of Badiul Alam. They do it with high hopes and aspirations that some day their child will be somebody and will help rest of the family in different ways to get into this world. But when he goes like Badiul Alam did, it simply spells ruination. The family goes back at least one generation. I did not know if Badiul Alam was their only son or if they had other childred where they can fall back and I dare not ask. I just watched the old parents go back into oblivion. Dr. Captain Badiul Alam of Pakistan Army Medical Corps, 2 I/C 40 Field Ambulance of Pakistan Army, was always obliging and respectful to senior officers. I have seen him standing up and salute when a senior officer talked to him on telephone. He lived in the cantonment for years in perfect harmony with rest of the officers at work and at social events alike attending office, meetings, parties, religious ceremonies and family functions just like any other officer. Yet he was arrested along with other Bengali officers just because they were Bengali. Supposedly there would have been appeals for mercy. But to the fellow brotherly West Pakistani officers, the crime of being a Bengali was an unpardonable offense punishable by death. So the trapped Bengali officers, in return for their lifelong faithful service to Pakistan Army, were machine gunned in the death pit behind the Brigade headquarters. To avenge the death of Badiul Alam, Toorkey and others like them and to avenge the insult to the motherland, many more have laid down their lives in the fight against Pakistan Army. Their sacrifice did not go wasted. Pakistan Army was chased, cornered and their moral was broken by the freedom fighters of Bangladesh, and finally they had to surrender to save their own lives. They were transshipped out from Bangladesh as POWs. A long time have passed since the day I met mother of Badiul Alam, but the few words she spoke in anguish still haunts me. (“Baba re! katol mach er lahan polada achilo amar!”)

2. Trail of Bangladesh Hospital

On 16 December, the day of surrender, Colonel Osmani, Commander in Chief of Bangladesh Forces was in Echelon headquarter at Agartala. He wanted to see for himself what was happening at different sectors. Along with the Chief of Staff Lt. Col. Rab and his ADC 20 Lt. Sheikh Kamal, he took his helicopter to Sylhet area along with a senior Indian Army officer acting as liasion officer to Osmani. While flying low over the battlefields, the helicopter was hit by Pakistan army fire. One bullet hit Col. Rab in the leg and another hit the helicopter petrol tank. Therefore the helicopter was forced to land at some distance but still in Bangladesh territory. They sent message for a rescue helicopter which came to pick them up next morning on the 17″ of December. Local villagers helped them with food and shelter for the night. The rescue helicopter brought them back to a helipad near Bangladesh Hospital at Bisramganj. Col. Rob was admitted in Bangladesh hospital for the next few days. He was probably the last patient to be admitted in Bangladesh Hospital. Major Khurshid was ADMS (Additional Director of Medical Services) of Bangladesh Forces, attached to Echelon headquarter in Agartala from October 71. The medical services and medical logistic support of the four sectors and Bangladesh Hospital at Bisramganj came under him. He was in Agartala when the incident occurred. Major Khurshid went back and forth between Agartala and Bisramganj to look after Colonel Rab. Major Khurshid was ordered by DGMS posting order dated 8″ December to take over Comilla CMH as the CO. He was also asked to merge Bangladesh Hospital at Bisramganj to CMH Comilla with it’s staff and equipment as the hospital belonged to Bangladesh Army under Bangladesh Army Medical Corps. He asked Dr. Mobin and Dr. Zafrullah to close down the hospital and report to him at Comilla CMH, and left Agartala for Comilla. CMH Comilla was still occupied by Pakistani staff when Major Khurshid went there and an Indian Army Mobile Hospital ‘160 GH’ was being stationed there as a supporting unit to the Indian army Division which had then taken over Comilla Cantonment in transition. Dr. Zafrullah Chowdhury packed the hospital up lock stock and barrel, and with remaining few patients, moved to Dhaka by way of Comilla. When Major Khurshid came to know of this move, he tried to stop the move and followed them from Comilla up to Daudkandi ferry, but the convoy had already crossed the river. In Dhaka, a shelter was arranged for the hospital by Habibul Alam in an abandoned house in Eskatan, near his house. At this point of time, Army got busy with reconstruction of left over structures in cantonments, DGMS army got busy with restructuring the Army Medical Corps, Major Khurshid and myself were busy in reconstruction and reformation of Comilla CMH. Bangladesh Hospital became Zafrullah’s baby. Later, some land in Savar was arranged for the hospital by Capt. (Retd.) Halim and the facility was shifted there. The name “Bangladesh Hospital” was changed to “Gono Sastho Kendro” while some of the nurses who had joined the hospital in November still remained in service there. The Bangladesh Hospital, as it came in to being, from a single bed medical inspection room in Srimontopur Under Sector 2 of
Bangladesh Forces, in a foreign land; which once became a sanctuary for the injured and sick Freedom Fighters in Sector 2, a symbol of excellence and our pride, became history. Under leadership of Dr. Zafrullah, Gono Sastho Kendro thrived significantly in different medical, social roles and gained international recognition in post war Bangladesh. Today, Gono Sastho Kendro is a multi million dollar medical-social project still headed by Dr. Zafrullah.
3. Indian Friends
After the independence of Bangladesh and my posting in Comilla, I had been to India on a number of occasions. I used to take my car across the same old Bibir Bazar-Srimontopur route to Sonamura and Agartala. After the Bangladeshis left for home, the place became almost deserted. It became hard to imagine how such a small place could accommodate so many people! One day I met Mr. Noresh Bhattacharjee crossing each other on the way to Agartala. I got down from my car, went to him and touched his feet with respect. He came down from his jeep and embraced me. Then he took me to his office in Agartala, fed me with sweets. He was very happy that we achieved our goal. Then he gave me a certificate of honour signed and stamped by him as the Conservator of Forest, which said that I was authorized to stay in any forest rest house in Tripura. Mr. Habul Banarjee, the owner of the Litchu Bagan of Bisramganj who gave us the land at Bisramganj to make the hospital and Mr. K.P. Dutt, the Deputy Director of Education in Agartala who had helped us in every possible way to make the hospital, one day came to visit us in Comilla. We spent a nice day together. It was an irony however that the same day a reunion of Bangladesh Hospital was being celebrated in Dhaka organized by Zafrullah Choudhury from Gono Sastho Kendro. I heard that in the reunion, Gen. Osmani would award Certificates to the Freedom Fighters who worked in the hospital during Liberation War. I was not invited. Poor Khuku, my wife, though she was as much of a freedom fighter as anyone else, was also not invited, and was denied of the honour of recognition. Obviously, Mr. Habul Banarjee or Mr. K. P. Dutt were also not invited, or they wouldn’t be sitting with me in Comilla. But I could not tell my guests about it to save us from the embarrassment of not being invited there. I met Habul Banarjee a few more times, once in Agartala, he was selling litchis from his garden. He gave me some litchis for Khuku. Another time I met him in Hawrah station, with his wife he was waiting for taxi. Major Chauhan remained in Sonamura for a long time. We used to meet often on both sides of the border. We gave him a large seashell from Cox’s Bazar beach as a gift. Dr. Roy Choudhury, the surgeon from Agartala and his wife came with us all the way to Dhaka to attend the 21 February Language Movement Day. Roy Chowdhury’s ancestors were landlords somewhere in Manikganj. We drove down to that place. Many local people came to meet them. Mrs. Roy Choudhury entered their ancestral home in traditional fashion covering her head with veil and touched the ground with her forehead. Many we never met again. Lt. Col. Pritam Singh and Major Sundaram both were killed in action. Captain Uttam was caught between two machine gun bullets. One grazed the left side of his face and pierced the ear, while the second bullet grazed the right side of his face and pierces the right ear. He stayed in hospital for a few months but survived.
4. The Dream lives on About a year later I was posted out to Bangladesh Navy in Chittagong. My family still lived in Comilla Cantonment and I used to come to Comilla for weekends. On one occasion while returning back to Chittagong early in the morning, the railwaycrossing gate at Sashongacha was closed. I came out of the car and was stretching. Someone from a nearby rickshaw came down and touched my feet in respect. I was surprised. The man seemed completely unknown to me. Then in a flash I knew who he was! The scar of surgical stitches on his lower lip, mandible, and chin and down the throat was unmistakable. It was the same man who was brought to our first hospital in Sonamura Forest Rest House, all shot up and barely clinging on to his life. He seemed to have finally recovered! He also spoke up something! So he got back his voice too! I was very happy to see him. His getting well was the greatest satisfaction of my career as a surgeon. He looked so happy and vibrant with life once again. He said that he started a new life somewhere nearby. He insisted me to visit his homestead. May be another day, I said. Now I must rush to Chittagong. In two hours time I have to attend the Morning Sick Report in Chittagong Naval Base.
230