Liberation Bangladesh 1971 – Maj Gen Dhruv C Katoch & Lt. Col. Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir
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 বিজ্ঞাপনমুক্ত ডোনেশনমুক্ত স্বেচ্ছাশ্রমে গড়া প্রচেষ্টা।
LIBERATION
BANGLADESH – 1971
Preface
On 25 March 1971, the Pakistan Government launched Operation
Searchlight, the code name for the military crackdown on the Eastern wing, to suppress Bengali calls for self-determination. In a conference held a month earlier, President Yahya Khan said “Kill three million of them and the rest will eat out of your hands,” thus giving state sanction to genocide. Over the next nine months, the Pakistan military and supporting militias went on an orgy of killing, rape and loot, which for its sheer brutality is unparalleled. The resistance movement that developed to fight the forces of repression had to contend with the might of a merciless and well-armed military that had no compunction in killing unarmed civilians. Yet, the people soldiered on, unwilling to suffer indignity and deprivation. In support of the freedom movement, the Indian Armed Forces, jointly operating with the Mukti Bahini intervened militarily on 3 December and in a swift 13-day war, forced the Pakistani military to surrender unconditionally. This book recounts first hand stories from the resistance movement and of soldiers who fought the Liberation war. The idea of writing this book germinated in December 2013, after the Centre for Land Warfare Studies (CLAWS), premier think tank of the Indian Army based in New Delhi conducted a seminar on the Liberation war. Senior dignitaries from both India and Bangladesh graced the event, which comprehensively covered major facets of the conflict that led to the birth of Bangladesh and India’s greatest military victory in millennia. However, an impression gained during the course of the seminar was that many people in India were
unaware of the sterling contributions made by the Mukti Bahini and the people of Bangladesh in achieving that victory. Similarly, many people in Bangladesh are presumably not aware of the sacrifices made by the Indian Armed Forces and the people of India, for the cause of Bangladesh. That the youth from both countries are not fully cognisant of this great period in their respective nation’s histories remains a sad commentary of our times. Over four decades after the war, public memory has dimmed and today’s youth need to be made aware of the valour and sacrifices made by those of an earlier generation for the cause of freedom which so many of us take for granted. Soon after the seminar, I discussed the issue with Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, and Major Chandrakant Singh. Both had participated in the Liberation war, the former being a war hero from Bangladesh, having been awarded the Bir Protik and also decorated with his country’s highest award, the ‘Swadhinata Padak’and Major Chandrakant Singh, a war hero from India, who was awarded the Vir Chakra. After an animated discussion, we cottoned on to the idea of penning personal accounts of those officers and men from both countries who took part in that war. The aim was to give the youth of today, both from India and Bangladesh, a sense of the heroism and courage of millions of Bangladeshis who resisted what was perhaps one of the most brutal regimes in history. In blatant violation of law, the Pakistan Army, in acts of barbarism rarely seen before, murdered, plundered and raped at will, in a desperate attempt to bring a proud people to their knees. Millions of innocent unarmed civilians died in a genocide, which the world largely ignored, because the West was supporting the Pakistani regime as part of its larger geopolitical goals. A passage from the work of journalist and researcher Afsan Choudhary is especially poignant. “I came out and saw the army. They wanted to go inside. I put my hands up like this and said there was no one inside. They flung me away into the yard and dragged my husband and son outside. They shot them both right there. They killed every male in the village, every male. When the army was gone, there was not a single man left to bury the dead. We had to drag the bodies ourselves and bury them.” (The Beswas Village by Afsan Chowdhary). The bestiality of the Pakistan Army crossed all bounds when they used rape as an instrument of coercion. As per Susan Brownmiller:
“Between two to four million women were raped over a period of nine months. Eighty percent of the raped women were Muslims, reflecting the population of Bangladesh, but Hindu and Christian women were not exempt. … Hit-and-run rape of large numbers of Bengali women was brutally simple in terms of logistics as the Pakistani regulars swept through and occupied the tiny, populous land. Girls of eight and grandmothers of seventy-five had been sexually assaulted … Pakistani soldiers had not only violated Bengali women on the spot; they abducted tens of hundreds and held them by force in their military barracks for nightly use. Some women may have been raped as many as eighty times in a night.”
How many died from this atrocious treatment, and how many more women were murdered as part of the generalised campaign of destruction and slaughter, can only be guessed at. The shame of it all was that rape as an instrument of coercion had state sanction. General AAK Niazi, the Commanding General in East Pakistan made perhaps the most shameful comment when he said,
“You cannot expect a man to live, fight, and die in East Pakistan and go to Jhelum for sex, would you?” Indeed, the Pakistan Army had descended to its lowest depths. It speaks volumes for the courage of the citizens of Bangladesh that they stood up and opposed this brutality, willing to die rather than accept a subservient status. Hundreds of thousands laid down their lives, many whose names we shall never know. They fought for freedom from oppression, they suffered but ultimately they prevailed. In the few stories we tell here, we hope to capture in part at least, the spirit of the resistance movement of the people of Bangladesh.
The story of the lightening campaign by the joint forces comprising of the Indian Armed Forces and the Mukti Bahini is yet another saga of raw courage, guts and frontline leadership, which led to the surrender of the Pakistan Army in 13 days. The stories of valour are many and obviously, not all accounts can be put down in a single book. However, the stories that have been penned, though specific to a particular area of operations, do convey in a larger sense, the heroism and courage of soldiers, across the multiple battlegrounds of this theatre of war. They express in some measure, the actions, aspirations, hopes and experiences of all who had the honour to be part of this epoch in their nation’s history. I hope that in the
not too distant future, we would be able to compile some more untold stories of courage and valour also and have them published. It would also be in order if the history of the Liberation war could be published as a joint endeavour between Bangladesh and India as a combined effort between the two countries.
This work does not claim to be a classical rendering of military history as taught in the armed forces. Rather, it is an account of the actions of the officers and men of the Armed Forces, which led to the creation of that history. It would however provide useful insight into the events of that time and as such would be a handy addition to the study of the Bangladesh War of Liberation. In this book, the first of its kind, we intend to make you, our reader, walk the path trodden by the authors, to provide you with a ringside view of those tumultuous times and give you a feel of having participated in the Liberation war. We hope to make you see history through the eyes of the actors on the stage. After all, they were the ones who played a role in the creation of that history. The book is aimed at all sections of society but is specifically intended at motivating the youth of the country. Through reading these accounts, we hope that the reader will develop an abiding interest in military history and a deeper understanding of the trials and tribulations of men in war. I must thank my former colleagues in CLAWS, especially Dinakar Peri, Geetika Kasturi and Shweta Desai who assisted me in putting the material together. From the veteran community, Major Chandrakant Singh from India and Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, the co-editor of this book from Bangladesh were pillars of strength. Indeed, without their support, this book could not have come about. Finally, my thanks are due to all the veterans who contributed to the book by giving their battlefield accounts. It has been a singular honour for me to edit their work and for any shortcomings only I am accountable. If the stories in this book infuse the reader with a sense of pride in the valour and courage of our soldiers, then its purpose has been served in full measure. Happy reading
Section 1 Resistance
1 First Successful Guerrilla Leader: The Story of Shahed Ali
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 2 ‘This is the way my boy!
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 3 Karuna Begum – An Extraordinary Freedom Fighter
Lt Col Ouazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 4 The Making of a Guerrilla
Maj Gen AK Mohammad Ali Sikder 5 He Marched Forward to Rescue the Besieged
Lt Col Ouazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 6 Gnawed by Leopards
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 7 Raksha Bandhan: Redeeming Honour
Maj Gen PK Batra, AVSM 8 Salute to Jean Kay
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 9 The Story of Hassan Ali
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 10 Memoirs of a Guerrilla Force Commander
Col DK Chand, SM 11 Land to Bury the Dead: The Story of Mannan Bhai
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik 12 Forced Labour and Syedpur Airport Construction
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
First Successful Guerrilla Leader The Story of Shahed Ali
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
Efter winning the general elections of 1970 with a thumping
majority, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s Awami League staked its claim to power. However, there was a strong perception amongst the ruling elite in West Pakistan that Bengalis were second-class citizens of Pakistan, being racially and culturally inferior. The refusal of the civil and military clique to hand power to the legitimately elected Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the popular mass leader and hero of the Bengali speaking people, spurred an uprising across East Pakistan. By the beginning of March 1971, East Pakistan was a boiling cauldron. On 7 March, in a mammoth public rally at Dhaka’s Ramna Race Course Maidan, Sheikh Mujib called the Bengali people to prepare for a potential war to achieve the goal of self-rule.
This call, thundered from the Ramna Race Course, would have moved the dead. For the masses assembled at the Maidan and the millions who listened over the radio, it was a call to action. ‘Every house to turn into a fortress,’ roared Bangabandhu, and the course of action was defined. Amongst the millions who listened to Bangabandhu’s rousing speech was Shahed Ali, a poor peasant’s son from the village of Shammanipur under Kotwali Thana in the northern district of Rangpur.
Hailing from a village, 316 km from Dhaka, Shahed Ali dropped out from school at a young age and worked with a local butcher to support his family of six. He was not amongst the intelligentsia or in politics, but was bright and decisive, always ready to assist anyone during a crisis. He knew he had to answer the call of the Bengali nationalist leader.
In Rangpur cantonment, 5 km south from Shahed’s village Shammanipur, the Pakistan Army began retaliating. They harassed people, burned their houses, looted their valuables and raided the villages for cattle, poultry, vegetables and grains. On 23 March 1971, at around 10 a.m. the Pakistan Army moved a column to Shammanipur. Inspired by Bangabandhu’s speech, Shahed decided that the time had come to perform his duty to defend his village against the Pakistan Army. A slogan spreading like wildfire in Rangpur was:
Bansher lathi tairi karo,
Bangladesh swadhin karo Loosely translated, the slogan meant ‘Prepare weapons with bamboo and bring freedom to Bangladesh.’ Without any formal arms training or support, Shahed decided to put words into action. He gathered a group of ten friends to prepare for resistance. This was perhaps the very first batch of Bengali guerrilla fighters and the group, led by Shahed, moved to the adjacent village of Damodorpur.
After observing Pakistan Army activities for some time, they planned a bold and brazen attack.
Hiding amongst some bushes on higher ground, they soon got their opportunity when they observed a Pakistan Army jeep approaching the village, moving slowly through the muddy track. There were five soldiers in the vehicle and Shahed recognised Lieutenant Abbas of the 29 Cavalry Regiment, stationed in Rangpur cantonment. This Pakistani officer frequently led raids to steal livestock and grain from poor villagers and ill-treated them in Shammanipur.
Moving quickly, Shahed and his group waylaid the jeep. The suddenness of the attack caught the Pakistanis by surprise. Shahed hit the officer and simultaneously, his colleagues dragged the others out of the jeep. Using knives and sticks, they killed all of them but spared the driver Nurul Islam as he claimed to be a Bengali. After taking away the personal weapons of the soldiers, they put the bodies in the jeep and abandoned the vehicle in a marshy land near Dangirpar village about 6 km away from Shammanipur. The first blow against the enemy had been struck. This success brought cheer to the villagers, as they were subjected to daily harassment and forced looting. However, new concerns emerged.
The commanding Officer of 29 Cavalry Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Shah Mohammad Sagir was not amused. He sent a fighting patrol to trace out his men and soon recovered the jeep with the bodies of the soldiers. Abbas was still alive, but succumbed to his injuries on 24 March, in the military hospital.
The Pakistan Army’s ‘Operation Search Lighť began the next day on 25 March. It was pre-planned and was part of a larger design to subjugate the Bengali population. It started with the merciless killing of students and teachers, political activists, civilians, poor farmers, women and children. Also killed were Bengalis in the East Bengal Regiment, East Pakistan Rifles and East Pakistan Police. The Black Night of March 25 marked the beginning of genocide.
Shahed was now a hunted man. He was no longer safe in Shammanipur and moved to Lalbag Haat to work as a butcher. The Pakistan forces, desperate to avenge the death of their men,
launched a massive manhunt for Shahed. In those days, a number of villagers who were non-Bengalis had been working as spies and were increasingly active in collaborating with the Pakistan Army and other security forces. Gatia Amjad from Rangpur was one such village informant. On 7 April, he secretly led a group of Pakistani soldiers to the butcher shop where Shahed worked.
Behind the hanging carcass of goat and cattle, Shahed stood, knife in hand, waiting for the enemy to come. The Pakistani soldiers had surrounded the shop and it was too late to run or hide, but he could still attempt a final stand, and fight to the end. Two Pakistani soldiers approached him but he pushed them away, but the third soldier pushed his bayonet between Shahed’s eyes and the brave fighter fell. He was repeatedly attacked with more bayonets and became a martyr in the cause of freedom. The Pakistanis tied him behind a jeep and dragged him through the village roads. The ignominy however did not end there. Shahed’s relatives located his mutilated and brutalised body about 15 km east of Lahirir Haat near a pond. At his burial, a Pakistan Army unit arrived in his village. They beat his first wife with a rifle butt, causing permanent brain injuries from which she never fully recovered. They then dragged his second wife Kamala Bibi into the house and raped her repeatedly. She died from the injuries that she sustained.
Shahed was no more, but in his death, thousands of Shaheds emerged from all corners of Bangladesh. Students, peasants, workers and political activists were recruited, trained and inducted as guerrillas all over the country. After the proclamation of independence by Bangladesh on 26 March 1971, Mukti Bahini or people’s army was collectively formed by Bengali civilians. Shahed Ali fell early on in the Liberation war, but he provided inspiration to the people to fight for freedom.
“This is the Way My Boy!’
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
he first democratic election that took place in Pakistan in
December 1970 led to the massive victory of the Awami League. However, the Pakistan government’s refusal to accept election results spurred dissent amongst the Bengali speaking civilians, intelligentsia, nationalists and political leaders. To subjugate the population, the Pakistan military in March 1971, launched ‘Operation Searchlight,’ to curb the Bengali nationalist movement and quell dissent. The plan was to take control of the major cities in the then East Pakistan by the end of March and thereafter, eliminate all opposition, political or military. In a conference held in February 1971, President Yahya Khan said, “Kill three million of them and the rest will eat out of our hands.’ For ‘Operation Searchlight to succeed, it was important to secure Dhaka, the heart of the rebellion and headquarters of the Awami League. Chittagong, Sylhet, Jessore and Rangpur were marked as the other areas to launch the offensive.
At that time, Nadir Ali was serving as a young Captain with the Pakistani Army. In the first week of April, he was promoted to the rank of Major and posted to 3 Commando Battalion, deployed in Dhaka and Chittagong. This unit was one amongst others, taking
part in ‘Operation Searchlighť. The unit’s Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Zahir Alam Khan along with Major Billal, a company commander in the same unit had earlier also been tasked to arrest the charismatic leader of the Awami League, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. The arrest took place in the early morning hours of 26 March from his home in Dhanmondi where he lived.
Ali was yet to see any major action but knew that his promotion and posting to 3 Commando Battalion would involve him deeply in the war. He was still a greenhorn and had not yet come across any guerilla fighters from Mukti Bahini, the paramilitary force formed by Bengali civilians. This was soon to change. On 15 April, a few days after joining his unit, the commanding officer called Major Ali and tasked him to prepare for a major operation in Gopalganj district. After briefing Ali, Colonel Khan looked him in the eye. There was a cold ferocity in his eyes and his voice reflected the same. ‘I want you to remember barked Khan, ‘that Gopalganj is Mujibur Rahman’s home district. It is a difficult area. Kill as many bastards as you can and make sure there is no Hindu left alive.’
Ali was a highly disciplined and motivated soldier. His training in the Pakistan Military Academy, School of Infantry and Commando Schools had taught him to follow orders of his senior commanders unquestioningly. However, he was not too happy with the last bit of instructions given to him by his commanding officer. The rules of engagement taught to him very specifically had ordained that unarmed civilians were not to be harmed in any way. The churning in his mind forced him to ask a question.
‘How do you expect me to kill unarmed civilians sir,’ he asked.
‘Do not show me your commando finesse,’ snapped the Commanding Officer. ‘You will kill the Hindus. It is an order for everyone.’
Once preparations for the operation were complete, Major Ali and his commando group moved in two helicopters to Gopalganj district. They were to be reinforced by an infantry column after they had reached their objective. The helicopters landed in a swirl of dust in an open ground on the outskirts of a village. The troops quickly disembarked and took up protective positions. The helicopters
then left, kicking up huge mounds of dust once again, and as the sound of the helicopters receded and the dust settled down, stillness once again enveloped the area. There was no movement to be seen anywhere, not a bird was visible, and the breeze which had been blowing gently till then too stilled, imparting a deathly stillness to the area. The Pakistani flag, which the troops had hoisted on setting up the post fluttered weakly, but lent an air of authority to the post. This area has been reclaimed, thought Ali, looking at the flag with pride. Just a day earlier, the entire village had been festooned with numerous flags of the revolution. None of them remained, and now only the Pakistani flag flew over the dusty ground, signifying the might of the state.
Surveying the area, Ali found the silence a bit oppressive and ominous. His men had taken up defensive positions, and the only sound that Ali heard came from his own breathing and the beating of his heart. Then from the stillness, a new sound wafted onto his senses. From across the village, some people were coming towards his newly established post. He looked through his binoculars to get a clearer view. They appeared to be villagers, apparently unarmed, and were carrying buckets. As the group came closer, it was apparent that they meant no harm. However, it was prudent to be careful. Instances of Army personnel being ambushed by such tactics were not unheard of and Ali, after warning his men to be alert, moved forward to accost the group. When the group came closer, he ordered them to halt. It was clear at this range that the group, consisting of a motley of men of all ages, from the very young to the aged, were unarmed and had not come with any hostile intent. On the contrary, they had come to offer their assistance to the soldiers. “We saw your helicopters coming and your men setting up the post’ said an old man from the group. ‘We thought you would require water, so we are carrying these buckets of water for you and your men.’
This gesture of the villagers brought a smile of warmth to Ali’s tense face. ‘We do not need water he told them, “but thank you for your kindness and consideration. The villagers turned back and Ali returned to his post. That was when he heard the crackling of machine gun fire. He whipped around and in horror, saw the villagers crumbling to the ground, their bodies ripped by a hail of
bullets. They remained rooted to the spot, too surprised and shocked to move, till brought down by the continuous barrage of fire that seemed to emanate from scores of weapons. Then the firing stopped and the stillness once again enveloped the area. Ali walked slowly to the scene of the massacre, his mind numbed. The old man who had spoken to him just a few moments ago lay dead, eyes listlessly looking heavenward, blood still oozing from his body. The others lay motionless too, their clothes bloodied and their bodies pierced by bullets, surprise still writ large on some of their faces.
Still in a daze, Ali saw the infantry column emerge from the flank, their weapons pointed ahead, ready to kill any villager who had perhaps survived the onslaught. There were none. This was the group sent to reinforce Major Ali’s post. The proud commander now came forward to meet Ali, his face beaming with pleasure.
‘What was your score,’ he asked.
Shocked and confused Ali replied, “They were just unarmed villagers. We did not shoot.’ Well, my boys got all of them,’ said the Colonel with glee. ‘They were bringing water for us, you know,’ said Ali softly. ‘And now they are all dead.’ ‘That is the way to treat them!,’ said the beaming Colonel. “That is the way, my boy.
And in that moment, the delusions of the grandeur and glory of the war ended for Major Nadir Ali.
Karuna Begum An Extraordinary Freedom Fighter
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
On 1971, hundreds, perhaps thousands of women joined the
war effort for Bangladesh’s liberation, with some of them participating in active combat on the frontlines alongside their male compatriots. Karuna Begum was one such freedom fighter. She was the daughter of Shah Ali Ahmed Khondokar, a soldier in the Pakistan Army. After his retirement in 1960, he served as an Office Superintendent at the Dhaka Engineering Institute.
Karuna was born on 2 April 1953, in Patarchar village under Muladi Thana in Barisal District in the south of Bangladesh. In her childhood she lost her mother. At the age of fifteen, when still a student of Muladi Mahmudjan High School, she was married to Shahidul Hasan Chunnu, who was then a soldier in the East Pakistan Rifles. Shahidul retired early to become a teacher in Kazirchar Maddhomik Vidyalaya. Like millions of others, he too listened to Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s historic speech
of 7 March 1971, where the Bangabandhu exhorted all Bengalis to defend themselves against the onslaught of the Pakistan Army. On 26 March, as the news of the Pakistan Army’s attack against the Bengalis spread, Shahidul put his training as a soldier to use, organising and training youth of his village and collecting the few arms available in nearby police stations and Ansar units. Soon he and his group started conducting operations against the Pakistan Army and their collaborators in and around the Muladi area.
In one such operation at Nandirbazar near Muladi in early September 1971, Shahidul and two of his fellow Freedom Fighters were wounded, captured and tortured by the Pakistan Army. When news of their capture reached Karuna, she rushed to the spot with her one-year-old son Manna, but had to watch helplessly as army troops took the three Freedom Fighters to the Jayanti River bank, shot them dead and threw their bodies in the river.
This tragedy proved to be a turning point in Karuna’s life. Devastated, frightened and yet angry, she resolved to continue the task her husband had taken on by enlisting as a freedom fighter in the liberation struggle. She was only nineteen years old,
Leaving Manna in her mother-in-law’s care, she set out for the Freedom Fighters’ camp in Nolchira under Gournadi Thana. Approaching the camp in the dead of the night, she met Kutubuddin, one of the camp commanders. Kutubuddin was senior to Karuna in both Patarchar Primary School and Muladi High School. Though aware of the tragic circumstances which led to the death of Shahidul at the hands of the Pakistan Army, he was nonplussed with Karuna’s arrival and persuaded her to leave, arguing that the all-male camp was no place for a woman.
Karuna left, but returned the next evening, her hair cut short and dressed in men’s attire. She persuaded him to accept her as one of his trainees and made him promise that none in the camp should know she was a woman. The next day she began her training, learning to use sten-guns, rifles, grenades and all forms of explosives. Her dexterity, daring and focus quickly earned her both acceptance and respect amongst her peers.
On completion of training, Karuna began to actively participate in guerrilla operations in the Barisal area and was also given the responsibility of gathering intelligence for her unit. Her courage in the battlefield and her accuracy in using hand grenades were remarkable. In an attack on the Kashimabad Pakistani position near the bridge area, Karuna crawled close to a Pakistani bunker, threw a hand grenade inside and quickly withdrew to safety. Her role in this battle helped her group in gaining a decisive victory. In another action in Barisal town, she threw a grenade on a moving truck of the Pakistan Army in front of Barisal Medical College. Then on 6 November, in an attack by Freedom Fighters on a Pakistani position at Bamrail, Karuna once again lobbed a hand grenade inside a Pakistani bunker. A few days later, on 15 November 1971, Camp Commander Kutubuddin planned an attack on a steel-bodied launch of the Pakistan Army near Gournadi. While her unit positioned itself along the banks of the river, Karuna positioned herself in a bush ahead of the others. When the launch loaded with Pakistani soldiers reached the banks of the river, Karuna swiftly threw two grenades inside the launch. Simultaneously, her unit started firing on the enemy with their rifles and mortars. The launch was totally destroyed and the Pakistan Army suffered heavy casualties.
In each operation, Karuna led from the front. Small wonder then that she became indispensable as a fighter. Her last operation was on the Pakistan Army stronghold in Mahilara, where they routinely brought civilians for internment and torture. The operation planned by her unit was executed on 21 November. In the moonlit night, the Freedom Fighters took up positions on a high ground adjacent to the bridge near the camp. Karuna was then tasked to crawl up to a vantage point where she could have a clear view of the enemy position. Equipped with a sten gun and two grenades, she first crawled to her location and on Kutubuddin’s signal, threw the grenade towards the enemy position. Immediately, heavy firing started from both sides. Karuna joined in with her sten gun. During the firing, Karuna received gunshot wounds on her right thigh. Unfazed, she rolled down the slope and sought help from her fellow Freedom Fighters who dragged her to safety. To stop the bleeding they tied a gamcha (thin towel) on her thigh. That was when they came to know that Karuna was a woman. Kutubuddin called off
the operation and his group carried Karuna back to the camp. She was initially sent to Barisal Medical College where the doctors and nurses worked around the clock to keep her alive, while at the same time taking precautions so that her identity would not be disclosed to the Pakistan Army and their collaborators. After the surrender of the Pakistan Army on 16 December 1971 as her condition deteriorated she was taken to Dhaka Medical College Hospital. But as her condition continued to deteriorate, she was transferred to the Combined Medical Hospital (CMH) in Dhaka Cantonment. Here she received a special visit from Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and Commander-in-Chief of Mukti Bahini Colonel MAG Osmani. It was the most memorable day of her life and greatest honour as she narrated to me.
The long treatment at the hospital saved Karuna’s life, but it could not save her leg. For the rest of her life, she struggled with a permanent disability. In February 1986, Karuna married freedom fighter, Golam Mostofa Manik of Rakudia village under Babuganj Thana of Barisal District. They had fought alongside each other in the same camp during the war. As her in-laws did not accept her because of her physical disability, Golam Mostafa and Karuna moved to Dhaka in search of a living. They struggled for years, and in 1996, the then Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, allotted Karuna a small house at 144, Lalbag Road, Dhaka. They lived in the house for years, but could not ever afford to buy it.
Karuna’s health suffered over the years. In August 2008, she was admitted to the Dhaka Medical College Hospital, with financial support of the Bangladesh Freedom Fighter Welfare Trust. Later she was taken to the Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib Medical University Hospital where she was diagnosed with cancer. A fighter to the last, Karuna battled prejudice, poverty and finally cancer before she breathed her last on 22 January 2009. I was in touch with Karuna for a long time. Before she died, she told me that she could fight against the Pakistan Army and defeat them but could not defeat poverty and cancer. She left behind her husband and five children, who still battle poverty and an uncertain future.
Karuna Begum’s story is a humbling reminder of how an ordinary human being is capable of extraordinary bravery. Defying society
and social constraints, she demonstrated the possibility of what an indomitable spirit can achieve. She showed her country and the world at large that determination, passion and courage is not defined by gender or by social circumstances. In that sense, Karuna Begum was a woman ahead of her times.
After he visited her in the hospital in 1972, Bangabandhu wrote a letter to Karuna which is translated as follows. This letter is treasured by the family members:
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman Prime Minister & Defence Minister
Gano Bhaban, Dhaka
Dear Sister Karuna,
You have set a glorious example of patriotism, sacrifice and courage during our Liberation War. Your unconquerable spirit is a shining example of the best of what our country has to offer. Our nation is proud of you today. We, the people of Bangladesh are indebted to you forever.
On behalf of the Government and the people of Bangladesh and on my own behalf, I am conveying heart full of gratitude to you for your noble task.
Best wishes, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman
The Making of a Guerrilla
Maj Gen AK Mohammad Ali Sikder
hen the Liberation War started, I was a student of class UW eleven in Faridpur Rajendra College in Faridpur District town. I passed my SSC (Secondary School Certificate) from a high school in Boultali, a small town in Gopalgonj District. I was barely 16 years old. Even before the start of the Liberation War, Gopalgonj was a revered name in Bangladesh as it was the birthplace of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, father of the nation. The fact that I hailed from the same region as the Bangabandhu made my heart swell with pride.
In 1971, no place or town in Gopalgonj, then a sub-division had any road link with Dhaka, the administrative capital of East Pakistan or with Khulna, the oldest river port, which were both adjacent to Gopalgonj. Boultali was a small town located on the banks of the Madaripur Beel Route Canal, a 400 feet wide waterway that connected the Padma River on the north to Madhumati River in the south. The canal shortened the Dhaka-Khulna river route via Gopalgonj by half, which otherwise would be a long distance from Khulna via Barisal and Chandpur to Dhaka. It was therefore, an important network for transport.
A few steamers and motor launches used to run every day from Khulna to Dhaka and back. Boultali was one of the main stations on the river transport route and in those days was known amongst the locals for its reputed secondary school, established during the British period. The small commercial market hub attracted traders and farmers for selling their produce by the river town and added to the importance of the place. The weekly bazaars on Monday and Friday were a crowded affairs and villagers from far off and remote areas would come to Boultali for their share of supplies. Along the southern bank of the canal, a few meters away from the market was my school where I studied till class 10. Hindus and some Muslims predominately inhabited Boultali and its surroundings and both communities lived in harmony.
The uprising against the Pakistani regime by the Bengali speaking population was in full swing in March 1971. To weaken the people’s movement, Pakistan deployed its army, which systematically resorted to killing all those who were agitating for justice in a pogrom reminiscent of genocide. The operation of the Pakistan army was codenamed ‘Operation Searchlighť. Launched on 25 March by the Pakistan army to comb out insurgent networks, cut down communication networks, take control of all major cities/ towns and secure transport links, the plan was to eliminate all opposition, political or military that sought to secede from West Pakistan. Operation Searchlight targeted the Bengali intelligentsia, academics and Hindus. It also targeted the police, civilians, poor peasants and unarmed women and children, and indiscriminately killed them.
The river network around Gopalgonj had made it difficult for the Pakistan authorities to target the area. After the arrest of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman from his home in Dhanmondi on 26 March, the Pakistan army established an army camp in Gopalgonj only in the first week of May. Once settled in the town, the armed Pakistani troops burnt houses in the town and assaulted the locals, but took care to spare those who supported the Pakistan Muslim League. Initially, the army concentrated its forces in Gopalgonj town and did not come down to smaller villages. They, however, used motor launches to and from Gopalgonj town for logistics purposes.
It was the third week of May 1971, but I do not remember the exact date, however I remember that it was a Friday, the day of Jumma prayer and the weekly market. I was sitting on the river embankment along with five school friends, just outside the school building and a little away from the crowded place on the north end of the market. It was mid-day and we were sitting there gossiping mindlessly, idling away our time. For entertainment, we would throw pebbles in the water. That was when we saw the big motor launch coming across through the canal. For the last two weeks, the movement of such launches had become routine and evoked little curiosity. They would move across the canal, day in and day out, with armed military personnel on board. Playing by the riverfront, we kept our eyes focused on the big launch, in the absence of anything better to do, even while heatedly discussing the massacres taking place in Dhaka and elsewhere in the country by the Pakistan Army. We heard about these incidences through broadcasts on All India Radio, BBC Bangla Services and from the people who had run away from Dhaka and other big cities. As the launch closed towards us passing by the main crowd of the market, we kept our eyes fixed and saw it cross the point in the middle of the canal, right across our position. After crossing our position, the launch stopped, and to our surprise, turned back. Then it crossed our position again and stopped on the embankment where the crowds in the market were going on with their routine.
Something did not appear right. We saw the soldiers jump out of the launch, one by one, and take up positions on the ground. Then they assumed firing positions and for no reason whatsoever, they opened fire on the crowd of peaceful shoppers. We heard the sharp bursts of gunfire followed by the screaming of panic-stricken villagers. The sudden assault took everyone by surprise. A busy marketplace had suddenly become a killing field. Men, women and children, in the hundreds, who a moment ago were engaged in buying and selling vegetables, livestock and other chores were now running in panic, in a desperate bid to avoid the hail of bullets which rained down upon them. Many fell to the ground, their blood splattered in the marketplace. A peaceful marketplace had turned into a combat zone.
We watched in horror for a moment, and then my friends and I, all jumped from the top of the embankment down to the lower ground
and ran in the opposite direction away from the soldiers and the market crowd. My mind was numb, and there was but one thought in my mind – to get as far away from the carnage as I could. I ran and ran, my heart pounding furiously, until the sounds of gunfire died away. Other people were running too, as desperate as I was to escape the murderous assault. Then I stopped and looked around and realised my friends were not with me. I wondered what had happened to them and prayed fervently that they were safe. My mind was in a whirl, my body covered in sweat and I was not thinking clearly. My throat was parched and I desperately wanted to drink some water, but there was nothing available. Every moment felt like the last moment of my life. The images of the market in flames and men and women mowed down by machine gun fire kept flashing through my mind. As evening set in, thick dark clouds covered the sky and it started to rain. The downpour came as a relief. It was dark as I wended my way back home, my mind numb in shock. That night, sleep did not come easily. There was an all pervasive fear of what the Pakistani Army would do next.
At the break of dawn, as the sun rose in the east with its splendid red flashes, my friends and I gathered and went back to the marketplace. We had to know what had happened. What we saw was a scene of carnage. Slippers and shopping bags lay abandoned across the embankment. Houses and shops lay gutted and structures still standing, were riddled with bullet marks. Other people had assembled there too, all of them numb with grief. I counted eleven dead bodies that morning but that did not tell the full picture. Some people had carried away the bodies of their loved ones for burial but many bodies were never recovered. They had been swept away by the current, after being thrown into the canal by the Pakistan Army personnel.
After witnessing such carnage, I could no longer continue my studies in college. We had to fight back. Across the border on the Indian side, the Border Security Force had begun training the Mukti Bahini in basic military skills like field craft, firing of weapons and the use of explosives. My friends and I decided that we too must fight for our motherland. For seven days, we walked through villages, paddy fields, mud and water. Through day and night, under rain and
scorching sun, we crossed the frontier and landed in Bangaon. Four weeks later, in mid-July, an innocent teen turned guerrilla crossed back into Bangladesh, to fight the Liberation War.
He Marched Forward to Rescue the Besieged
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
ocated in the Nilphamari District in Rangpur Division,
Syedpur is a populous town in Bangladesh. During Pakistan times, the majority population were Urdu-speaking non-Bengalis, who were migrants from the Indian state of Bihar. Syedpur also had a considerable Bengali-speaking population. The non-Bengalis, the Urdu-speaking population firmly supported the Pakistani regime.
Despite Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman winning the 1970 General Elections, his party was not allowed to form the government. After ‘Operation Searchlighť was launched on 25 March 1971, resistance started all over Bangladesh. Before this, on 23 March 1971, Bengalis refused to celebrate Republic Day or Pakistan Day, declaring it “Resistance Day’. With choruses of *Joi Bangla’ and ‘Amar Sonar Bangla’ rending the air, the masses surged to Bangabandhu’s house where they hoisted the flag of Bangladesh. Set on a green background representing the green fields of Bangladesh, the flag had the map of Bangladesh embossed on a red circle. All across Bangladesh the people hoisted the flag on
India-Pakistan war when he was a Company Commander in the Rangpur Ansar Battalion. With Beig were his two sons, Rashed and Salahuddin, between them carrying a .22 rifle. In total, the crowd could muster about 35 firearms. The rest carried sticks, bows and arrows, and spears. It was evident that the crowd, despite being in thousands was no match for even a small group of well-trained men equipped with automatic weapons. Nevertheless, their zeal was infectious and by eleven in the morning, the huge procession, with Beig in the lead, reached the bridge on the Khargaria River, adjacent to the western side of Syedpur town. At the bridge, Beig found himself confronted with the armed might of the Pakistan Army and its cohorts, the non-Bengalis. Thousands of non-Bengalis had lined up near the Sher-e-Bangla School. Many were equipped with firearms. The situation was tense and explosive.
For Mahtab Beig, it was a moment of decision. To move forward meant certain death. To withdraw at this stage was tantamount to betrayal of the trust reposed in him. Beig moved forward, choosing death over dishonour.
A hail of bullets rained down on the procession, with the leading elements bearing the brunt of the initial onslaught. Beig was hit by a burst of automatic fire and fell to the ground, his stomach ripped open. The small group of Bengalis with weapons then took up positions in an abandoned brickfield nearby and tried to resist but to no avail. Under covering fire, the non-Bengalis surged forward and carried the lifeless body of Mahtab Beig across the bridge. His sons tried to bring him back to safety but the opposition fire was too heavy and strong. Salahuddin was hit on his chest and legs by enemy bullets in his efforts to bring back the body of his father. With their leader gone, the villagers retreated and the procession gradually melted away.
What happened next will forever rebound to the shame of the Pakistan Army. It was no longer a disciplined military force, but had reduced itself into a collection of thugs that thrived on murder, loot and rape. The non-Bengalis severed the head of Mahtab Beig and danced around it. Then they strung up the head on a pole and paraded it through the streets of Syedpur, warning the Bengalis that they would meet the same fate, should they disobey the Pakistan
Army and the non-Bengalis. In that moment, humanity had been lost and the non-Bengalis and the Pakistan Army became animals in human form. What followed was a mass killing of Bengalis by the Pakistan Army with their non-Bengali supporters. Thousands of Bengalis were killed, mostly in the Railway Workshop area, Railway Colony, Golahat area, Syedpur Airport area and the Tatia Jute Press area. The murderers satiated their lust by raping the hapless women. But amidst this suffering, their emerged a new will to fight the oppressors, a will born of the example set by Mahtab Beig, a rural Bangladeshi and a brave political leader who stood beside his people in the time of need. His death gave birth to thousands of revolutionaries, ultimately leading to victory in the Liberation War. Mahtab Beig fell, but he did not yield. His example will continue to inspire generations yet to come. Mahtab Beig fell but with it Bangladesh rose that day.
Gnawed by leopards
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
M ohammad Salahuddin was a young man of eighteen years
Lwhen he became a Freedom Fighter. He was studying in Surendranath College in Dinajpur before the Liberation War started. When the Pakistan Army launched ‘Operation Search Light,’ Salahuddin, like many other young men crossed the border into India and reported to the youth camp at Moloy. He was sent for a month’s training at the Panighata Muktijoddha training camp near Darjeeling. He was strong and mentally robust. After completing his training, he joined the No. 7 Sector and took part in operations in Thogbasti, Baliadangi, Pirganj and Meherpur areas. In each of the operations, he proved to be an able Freedom Fighter, gutsy and full of initiative.
During the nine month long Liberation War of 1971, the Pakistan Army committed the worst form of human rights abuses on the Bengali population. They murdered innocent civilians by the thousands, reminiscent of the worst form of excesses by Nazi Germany. Equally despicable was the systematic rape of Bengali women, in all areas where the Pakistan Army operated. A large number of Pakistan Army officers sullied their uniform by wilfully indulging in the rape of the female populace. They used rape as a
weapon of war. Their men were no better, as evidence found in the forward trenches after the surrender of the Pakistan Army showed. Broken bangles and torn clothing of women found even in the forward trenches, told a tale of debauchery and abuse, which would put even criminals to shame.
Salahuddin was aware of the atrocities and human rights abuses
carried out by the Pakistan Army. When he received a message on Š the morning of 10 November 1971 that the Pakistan Army had
abducted his father, he was both angry and panic-stricken. He was, after all, the eldest son and felt responsibility towards his family for their protection and safety. To enquire after his parents, he quietly left the camp without any weapon, only confiding to one of his fellow Freedom Fighters that he would go home and return at the earliest. It was still dark when he reached his home in Thakurgaon, after a 20 km long gruelling walk. When he entered his house, his parents were surprised and overjoyed to see him after such a long time. To Salahuddin’s joy, his father had not been abducted by the military. However, the fact that he had deliberately been fed a false message indicated that the Pakistan Army had set a trap for him. He told his mother that he would have to leave immediately, but she insisted that he eat some daal and rice before leaving. It would take just a few minutes to prepare.
That delay proved fatal. Salahuddin’s hunch was correct. Soon Pakistani troops and Razakars disembarked from Pakistan Army trucks and surrounded his house. Using a megaphone, Captain Zaman of the Pakistan Army shouted to Salahuddin to come out and surrender or his family would be butchered. Salahuddin had no option. He walked out of his house and the troops tied him up and put him in the waiting jeep. The wailing cries of his parents for mercy fell on deaf ears.
They took Salahuddin to the Thakurgaon Army Camp, which was previously the East Pakistan Rifles Camp. The Camp Commander, Major Mahmud Hassan Beig was notorious for his extreme acts of cruelty and for the systematic killing of civilians in his area. He was pleased with the arrest of a Freedom Fighter and asked Captain Zaman to immediately start interrogating Salahuddin. The torture and beatings started in a bid to break the man. The soldiers wanted
to know the location of Mukti Bahini camps, their weapons, the identification procedures of Freedom Fighters and details of their future operations, but Salahuddin refused to provide any information. A whole day and night elapsed, wherein his captors subjected him to the vilest forms of abuse, but his spirit held and he refused to divulge any information. Major Beig was furious. To put fear into the minds of the people, he planned to kill Salahuddin in a most heinous fashion.
The next morning, Razakars riding in vans, announced on the streets of Thakurgaon that an exceptional entertainment show was scheduled at noontime in the Army Camp and invited the public to come to enjoy the show. Suspicious of Major Beig’s activities, the people of Thakurgaon mostly stayed indoors. By noon, only a small crowd, consisting of Razakars, peace committee members and non-Bengalis gathered at the Army Camp. They were escorted near a large cage, which held two full-grown leopards and two calves. Major Beig had forcibly taken these leopards from a circus party. The leopards looked restless and hungry. The spectators first thought that Major Beig had brought them to show his prized possession. Within a few minutes, they were proven wrong.
After few minutes, the soldiers dragged Salahuddin to the cage. His clothes were blood stained and he could barely walk. It appeared that his hands and legs were broken but even in this condition he held his head high. Major Beig then came forward and walked up to Salahuddin.
‘I give you one final chance to give me the information on Freedom Fighters,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, you shall die a most horrible death.’
Even at death’s door, Salahuddin kept his composure. He raised his head in one last final act of defiance. The crowd stood transfixed as Salahuddin looked at Beig.
‘No.’
The one single word uttered was barely audible but in that simple act of denial, Salahuddin became a hero. The enemy had broken his bones but they could not break his spirit.
Major Beig was furious. ‘Open the cage,’ he roared.
Then an incident took place that people only read in the books covering the history of medieval Rome. The soldiers tied Salahuddin’s hands and feet, and then threw him into the cage of the hungry leopards. The audience stood mesmerised as the leopards set upon the lad. Within moments they had chunks of human flesh in their jaws and soon, Salahuddin was no more. The leopards tore apart his body, the calves too joined in the feast and soon all that remained was a pool of blood, a few bones and torn clothing. A Freedom Fighter died that afternoon, his blood mingling with the soil of Bangladesh. Nevertheless, in his defiance till the very end, it was he who was the victor, as his spirit could not be vanquished. The sacrifices and spirit of men such as Salahuddin ultimately led to the birth of Bangladesh.
Raksha Bandhan Redeeming Honour
Maj Gen PK Batra, AVSM.
C7n November 1971, I was with A Squadron, 45 Cavalry, deployed
in West Bengal, opposite Jessore and operating under 4 Mountain Division. Mullick was one of the three Mukti Bahini youngsters placed in my squadron to assist the division in its mission. He was very quiet, aloof, distant and restless, but whenever any task was given he would volunteer to do it alone and would get the required information — precise and to the point. His behaviour intrigued me and at times made me uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he always delivered, and in time too. His loyalty and dedication was unquestionable.
When the war broke out on 3 December, I was engrossed in the operations of my squadron and saw little of Mullick and his two comrades. I knew the trio was busy as they kept getting information of Pakistani troop positions and passing on the same to our higher headquarters. However, a few days after the war had begun, when I was on my tank, I spotted Mullick near Hardinge Bridge over the Padma River. He had a rifle placed under the throat of a civilian, and from the looks of the situation, his intentions were clear.
‘Don’t kill him,’ I screamed above the roar of the tank, but it was already too late. A burst of rifle fire shattered the stillness of the air, ripping open the captive’s face and head. It was a ghastly sight, one that haunts me even now. What made Mullick do it, I wondered! He was unwilling to talk, but that evening his colleagues told me his story.
It transpired that the killed civilian was a Pakistani soldier. Unable to cross the Padma River, he had donned civilian clothes to escape falling into the hands of the Mukti Bahini. However, that was just part of the story, which had its roots in earlier events.
Mullick, a Muslim Bengali lad had grown up in a small village on the India-East Pakistan border, which had a mixed population of Hindus and Muslims. A young Hindu girl, Rani, the daughter of a farmer, studied in the same school as Mullick. There was no religious discord in the village, both communities getting together to celebrate their respective religious festivals. As Mullick and Rani were neighbours, it came as no surprise to the locals when on Raksha Bandhan, Rani tied a ‘rakhi’ on Mullick’s wrist, and by that simple act, he became her brother.
The year 1971 was a cruel one for Bengalis living in East Pakistan. The atrocities committed by the Pakistan Army had made life hell for the local people but there was little they could do about it. Murder, loot and rape had become a daily occurrence and to escape this violence, a flood of refugees started streaming into India. One tragic morning Rani disappeared. A Pakistani company had moved in near the village and Mullick came to know that Pakistani troops had abducted young girls from the village and kept them captive in houses vacated by the villagers. To trace Rani, he started working in the cookhouse of the Pakistani company that had been deployed on the border. One day he was tasked to deliver lunch at an outhouse. This happened again a week later, but this time, as he came out of the house, a small piece of cloth, floating down from the first floor window caught his eye. He stooped to pick it up and his eyes misted when he saw it was a cloth piece cut from the zari border of a chunni, (a woman’s head drape) and knotted into a shape to resemble a rakhi. Instinctively he knew that Rani was held captive in that house, but there was little he could do then. He had to wait
for his chance to search the house. That opportunity came a few days later, when the Pakistani company was attacked and forced to flee. Mullick rushed to the house but was too late. The fleeing Pakistani’s had slit the throats of the women in their captivity. Rani was one of them.
Mullick joined the Mukti Bahini and began his own personal war to track the man who had murdered his Rakhi sister in cold blood. On a cold windswept day in December 1971, on the banks of the River Padma, a young Muslim boy, avenged that cold blooded murder and delivered retributive justice. I am not sure if vengeance brings solace, but I do hope that Mullick got the peace he so richly deserved. I never got to meet Mullick again, but I understand the pain and anguish he went through. What I have however, not been able to fathom, is the barbarity of a uniformed force, which institutionalized rape and murder of innocent civilians. Rani’s murder and that of thousands like her must never be forgotten, else history will repeat itself.
Salute to Jean Kay
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
An 3 December 1971, a few hours before Pakistan started the
war with India, Pakistan International Airlines (PIA) Boeing 720B was operating Flight PK-712 bound from London to Karachi via Paris, Rome and Cairo. With passengers and crewmembers on board, the flight arrived at Paris Orly Airport. Five passengers from Paris boarded the flight. Of these, one passenger was Jean Kay, a 28-year-old French soldier who had earlier fought in Biafra and Yemen.
After all the passengers were seated and the flight readied to take off, Jean Kay discreetly slipped into the cockpit with a pistol in hand and ordered the pilots to cut the engine power. He threatened to shoot the pilots if they did not cooperate with him. Pointing to his briefcase with two wires sticking out of it, he said that he would also blow the aircraft to pieces, with all passengers on board. The pilots cut the engine power. Flight PK-712 was hijacked at Paris Orly Airport and the time was ticking.
Jean Kay got an interpreter among the passengers to translate his French into English. He then announced that all passengers less the Pakistanis would be allowed to leave the aircraft at Beirut in Lebanon.
Thereafter, he would take the plane to India. The passengers were understandably scared, especially the Pakistanis who were terrified. This could be the last day of their lives. At such moments, one tends to examine the possibilities. Who was this French hijacker? Was he a psychopath or was he mentally deranged? Would he shoot them or would he blow up the plane? To their surprise however, Jean Kay remained calm and courteous. What happened next surprised not only the crew and passengers on board, but the authorities at the airport itself.
The French authorities were positioned in the control tower and Jean Kay made his demands known to them. He asked for the fuel tanks to be filled to the top. Then he demanded that 20 tons of medical supplies and relief materials be loaded on the aircraft and flown to India for refugees displaced due to mass genocide and atrocities in East Pakistan. Having witnessed the horrors of war and conflict from close quarters, the humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in East Pakistan had moved him deeply. During his postings as a soldier in Lebanon, Yemen, Biafra and Angola, he developed a strong sense of empathy with the hapless refugees and now he wanted to help the refugees from East Pakistan who had streamed into India. Jean Kay was neither mentally deranged nor was he a psychopath. He was simply on a humanitarian mission.
When he became aware of the atrocities committed by the Pakistan Army on the people of East Pakistan and the subsequent flight of millions of poor Bengalis into neighboring India, Jean Kay could not sit idly. He studied in depth the refugee problem and became aware of the lack of medicines and food supplies in the camps. Through newspaper articles, he came to know of the large number of people, especially children dying in the camps. He decided to do something on his own for the helpless poor, who were pouring in large numbers every day across the borders into India.
Jean Kay’s demands for the relief material and the flight’s diversion were non-negotiable. To prove the seriousness of his intentions, Jean Kay threatened the people in the tower that any adventure made by law enforcing agencies would result in the destruction of the aircraft and cause loss of human lives. The bomb in his briefcase was ticking. After long negotiations, the French authorities agreed to cooperate
with Jean Kay. They informed him that the French Red Cross and Ordre de Malte, a charitable organisation would arrange to deliver the medicines to the aircraft on the condition that no passengers were to be harmed. By 5:15 pm, a truckload of medicines arrived at the airport. Another truck full of medicines approached the aircraft, but the driver, warehouse men, mechanics and Red Cross workers were in reality, specially trained commandoes in disguise. While loading the relief material in the cargo hold, they requested and obtained permission from Jean Kay to disembark eight passengers and one child. He also allowed the stewardesses to serve meals to passengers in the aircraft.
The commandoes disguised as workers deliberately slowed the process of loading medicines to gain time. They then informed Jean Kay that storing penicillin and other sensitive medicines in the cargo hold would damage the medicines and requested if the same could be loaded on to the passenger section. After obtaining Jean Kay’s approval, they entered the rear section of the aircraft’s passenger cabin. The commandoes did a remarkably professional job and Jean Kay did not suspect that anything was amiss. He then started receiving the boxes of medicine.
In an instant, four commandoes pounced on Jean Kay. He could not use his pistol because it was only a toy. He was able to bluff everyone with a toy pistol. There was no explosive in the briefcase also. However, no injury was caused and he was soon overpowered. The passengers were released; the bomb threat was a hoax. The briefcase had nothing but two wires jutting out.
Jean Kay was arrested and taken to the Orly police station for interrogation. The police also questioned the passengers on their ordeal. They told the police that Jean Kay never pointed the pistol at them, nor was his behaviour abusive. Soon after completion of checking of the aircraft, the PIA flight with all passengers on board left for Karachi.
Jean Kay was an adventurous young man who got much of his inspiration for serving humanity by reading books of Andre Malraux. After being taken into the police custody he was produced before the court and Andre Malraux, a former minister
of France and human rights activist stood in the court as a friend of the accused. However, despite Andre Malraux’s help, Jean Kay received a five-year imprisonment sentence. Meanwhile, the French authorities and the Red Cross honoured their promise to deliver 20 tons of medicines and relief material to the refugees. They were immediately delivered to the refugee camps in India having been flown there by a Malta Airlines flight. The French Red Cross and the Order of Knights Hospitaliers of Malta assisted in the process. The hijacking failed, but the aim behind the hijacking was achieved in full measure.
Thank you Jean Kay. We salute you for your love for the suffering humanity.
The Story of Hassan Ali
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
On his book, Witness to Surrender Brigadier Siddiq Salik of
Pakistan Army wrote of an incident that occurred during the Liberation War which drew my attention. On page 104 of the book, he wrote of the Mukti Bahini and its warriors as follows:
Their sabotage inventory included damage to, or destruction of 231 bridges, 122 railway lines and 90 electric installations. They could not reach this figure without a high degree of motivation. Here is an example of their spirit. A Bengali lad was arrested in Rohanpura area (Rajshahi District) in June 1971, for an attempted act of sabotage. He was brought to the company headquarter for interrogation but refused to divulge any information. When all other methods had failed, Major ‘R’ put his sten gun on his chest and said, “This is the last chance for you. If you don’t co-operate, the bullets will pierce through your body.’ He bowed down, kissed the ground, stood up and said, ‘I am ready to die, now. My blood will certainly hasten the liberation of my sacred land.’
The reference to the young Bengali lad intrigued me. As a young officer, Brigadier Siddiq Salik witnessed the war first hand and after
the defeat of the Pakistan Army, spent two years as a prisoner of war along with 93,000 of his compatriots. In 1988, he was on the ill-fated plane of General Zia-ul-Haq when it crashed, killing all on board. His book is a personal account of what happened in those terrible months when the Pakistan Armed Forces chose to crush people’s resistance with military force rather than political resolve, leading to one of the bloodiest genocides in the world. Salik’s mention of the young lad is a significant acknowledgement of the impression left by a mere boy of seventeen on a well-trained professional military officer in the midst of war. Who was this lad? To find the answer, I travelled to Rohanpur, the place Salik mentioned in his book about the remarkable encounter. In 1971, it was part of Rajshahi District. I made every effort to join the dots and bring to light, the life of this anonymous martyr.
In 1971, 25 Punjab Regiment of Pakistan Army was deployed in and around Rohanpur several times. Operating mainly out of the army camp located at Ahammadi Begum High School, their deployment was a highly strategic one; Rohanpur was the site of the last rail station near the Indian border where Pakistan Army was always expecting attacks from the Mukti Bahini. A Pakistani officer, Major Mohammad Yunus was in charge of the forces in this area and he was responsible for countless incidents of war crimes and human rights abuses. After the surrender of the Pakistan Army, his name figures as POW No. 595. His name also figures in the list of war criminals prepared by the Bangladesh Government. His Pakistan Army No. was PA-6870. All these details I gleaned after a detailed investigation and finally I solved the puzzle. The ignominious Major ‘R’ of Brigadier Salik’s account was Major Mohammad Yunus. The young lad whom he murdered was Hassan Ali.
During the Liberation War, Rohanpur had three railway bridges of which the Mukti Bahini destroyed one. Following its destruction, the Pakistan Army captured a young man Hassan Ali from his residence on 4 June 1971. A number of Freedom Fighters and villagers who were in custody in the Army camp remembered him being brutally interrogated. They also recall hearing gunshots and saw him being dragged away. His body was never found.
Hassan came from a very humble background and was the son of Jhabu Mondal and Khushimonnesa. The resistance against the Pakistan authorities’ discriminatory policies towards the Bengali population was strengthening across East Pakistan. When he turned seventeen, Hassan joined the ‘Ansars,’ to receive basic training. The ‘Ansars’ were a force raised to preserve internal security. During the liberation movement, most of the ‘Ansars’ joined the Mukti Bahini. Along with his friends from his village, Hassan decided to fight against the Pakistan Army and joined the resistance. He crossed over to India and joined a training camp near Maldah. Subsequently selected as a junior leader, he successfully executed a number of operations inside Bangladesh, earning the appreciation of his commanders and comrades due to his brave and decisive leadership.
On 2 June 1971, Hassan and his team were assigned to destroy the third bridge in Rohanpur to cut off Pakistan Army’s lines of communication. After the successful execution of the mission by the midnight of 3 June, Hassan decided to pay a visit to his family, whom he had not seen for long. Telling his comrades to return to camp, he said he would join them there. His comrades did not like the idea of him going alone and wanted at least one person to accompany him, but he allayed their fears, telling them that he would be back before daybreak and the night was adequate cover for him. Little did Hassan know what fate had in store for him.
When he reached home, his mother and sister were overjoyed to see him. His mother insisted on cooking some rice and daal before he returned to the Mukti Bahini camp. Before taking food, he went outside to wash his hands in the small pond next to their hut and before he realised what was happening, soldiers from the Pakistan Army along with a group of Razakars (Pakistani collaborators) surrounded him. Someone had evidently betrayed Hassan Ali. He was beaten and dragged to the Pakistan Army camp. Villagers who were interned in the Army camp recall that in the camp, the Pakistani soldiers tied him to a tree and beat him mercilessly. When they failed to get any information out of him, Major Mohammad Yunus took over the interrogation.
Despite being beaten and starved, Hassan Ali would not break. This infuriated Major Yunus. Taking out his sten gun, he pressed it against Hassan Ali’s chest and gave his final warning.
“At the count of five if you do not speak, I will shoot you dead.’ The command was given in a fit of rage, and perhaps a bit of desperation too. How dare a Bengali boy stand up to a Pakistan Army officer!
Hassan Ali was weak with lack of food. He had been beaten and tortured and his clothes were bloody and torn. His body was broken, but his spirit was intact. With bowed head he awaited the inevitable.
Yunus started his count. It was done slowly, to elicit maximum effect. When he reached the count of four, Hassan slumped slowly to the floor and felt for one last time, the warm feel of his beloved motherland against his body. He kissed the earth, then arose slowly and looked his tormentor in the eye.
‘Sir, I am ready to die. Kill me now. My blood will certainly hasten the liberation of my sacred land.’
A defeated Yunus pressed the trigger of his sten gun and the bullets ripped through the body of Hassan Ali. He slowly collapsed to the ground that he had kissed a few moments earlier, his blood forming a deep dark red patch on the mud below him. A few tired gasps and then he was no more.
Hassan Ali’s extraordinary courage in the face of certain death stands testimony to the determination and valour of the ordinary people of Bangladesh who refused to surrender their dream of a liberated homeland. His unflinching courage remains a powerful source of inspiration for the people young and old, and a humble reminder of the price paid by those who fought for the independence of our country, so we could be free. Herein also lay a paradox. A Pakistani officer, trained to fight in the highest traditions of warfare, ultimately reduced himself to the level of a common criminal. On the other hand, a simple villager with no formal military training elevated himself to the ranks of the finest fighting soldiers in history. The contrast could not have been greater.
The ballad of Hassan Ali’s sacrifice will pass from generation to generation as the finest example of a patriot and a hero. In his memoir, Salik states: ‘It was not an easy job for the Army to stamp out insurgents so sophisticated in technique and so highly motivated.’ In so doing, he paid a grudging tribute to Muktijoddha Hassan Ali and all his fallen comrades of 1971. In not being able to forget, he immortalised the courage of a young man who was unafraid to die in his struggle to free his motherland.
Memoirs of a Guerrilla Force Commander
Col DK Chand
15 June 1971 was a day to remember. I had completed two years Lof service and put on Captain’s pips for the first time. That was also the day I was tasked to train the Mukti Bahini as a commando instructor. Captain Bagga, Captain Dhir and Captain Hameed had received similar instructions, and the four of us boarded the meter gauge train at Bareilly which was to take us to Masimpur, the location of Echo Sector Headquarters.
Echo Sector had six forward bases, Jalalpur, Karimganj, Latu, Kukital, Kailashar and Kamalpur. While Bagga, Dheer and Hameed moved to their respective training camps after briefing at headquarters, I was held back for some time to perform the duties of a grade three staff officer (GSO 3). This gave me an insight into the functioning of the Force. I also had a chance meeting with Neville Maxwell, the famous author of ‘India’s China War’. He was however, not allowed to cover this war! I also came across Major Ziaur Rahman who was in command of 1 and 8 EBR (East Bengal Rifles), and who later rose to become the President of Bangladesh
from 21 April 1977 to 30 May 1981.
We enrolled all willing and able-bodied persons into the Mukti Bahini, who had crossed over from East Pakistan. Those who had some military training were enrolled as ‘Mukti Fighters’ (MF) and the rest as ‘Freedom Fighters’ (FF). We laid emphasis on training the latter group and the complete operation was codenamed ‘Operation Jackpot’. For transport, we had a motley of vehicles from across the border. These included sports and luxury cars, Japanese jeeps, trucks, motorcycles and mopeds. I had a Daihatsu convertible red car brought in across the international border from Samsher Nagar Tea Garden. This remained a big attraction.
After two months in staff, I took over the Jalalpur Mukti Bahini Camp, located in the foothills of Shillong, near the international border (IB). At any one time, I had 300 to 600 Mukti Bahini in the camp. Those who had completed their training went back across the border to wage guerilla warfare against their persecutors. However, their performance remained a matter of concern as quite a few were captured and killed. What they needed was experience and good leadership. They also needed to be shown that the Pakistani soldier (referred by them as Punjabi), could be beaten.
Taking on the enemy head on would have been foolish, so I thought of a series of small offensive actions, to cause casualties to the enemy and provide confidence to the MF and FF. My predecessor, Captain RGK Pillai had liberated some areas across the IB, north of the Barak River. While the Pakistanis had evicted the Mukti Bahini soon after, they had not occupied the area and it remained a ‘No Man’s Land.’ Near to this area, a company of Pakistan’s 15 Punjab battalion was deployed, southwest of the Barak River, at a place called Atgram. This provided me with a window of opportunity. Though I was not authorised to cross the IB, I treated the ‘No Man’s Land’ as a good operating base and an ideal training ground. I would take a well-armed team with me by night and take up positions on the riverbank across the IB, opposite the Pakistani company, which was across the river. Then we would wait for first light to break. The thick undergrowth provided excellent cover to conceal the team. When the Pakistani soldiers came for the morning call, we would fire a barrage of weapons at them and then in a few well-planned
moves, would move back across the IB to our base. Slowly my camp developed its offensive spirit and gained confidence of beating the “Punjabis’ at their game. The company of 15 Punjab, which bore the brunt of our jitter tactics had a harrowing time and started thinning out due to heavy casualties. On 21 November 1971, when the position was finally attacked and overrun by a battalion of the Indian Army (4/5 Gorkha Rifles), only a platoon remained of the enemy along with about 100 Razakars.
In September, Mukti Bahini from other camps came over to my camp at Jalalpur for orientation training. At this time, Indian Officers commanded only two of the six forward bases. Captain Hameed was in command of Kamalpur and I was in command of Jalalpur. The trainees consisted of some ex Pakistan army personnel, and a couple of Junior Commissioned Officers (JCO) and Non Commissioned Officers (NCO). One of the JCOs was a former Asian Games athlete. The entire group insisted on taking part in an operation before they returned to their respective bases, so I planned a mission for them. The target selected was an enemy post south of Atgram, across the Barak River. After extensive preparations and rehearsals, we set off at dark and reached the river by midnight. There we faced some problem in getting the boats ready for the crossing, but eventually we made a successful crossing in the darkness. The enemy however got wind of our movement and attempted to cut us off. This contingency had been catered for and we put our alternate plan into action. I ordered the group to withdraw and provided them covering fire from the fire base which I had established. The enemy was caught by surprise and suffered heavy casualties. The Mukti Bahini withdrew successfully after which I broke contact and moved back across the river along with the rest of the firm base. The only casualty we suffered was a bullet injury in the leg of the former Asian games athlete. He was given immediate first aid and later evacuated to the field hospital at Masimpur. This action was much appreciated by my Sector Commander and also by Maj Ziaur Rahman, who was given details by the injured JCO.
While conducting operations, there was the perennial fear of agents working for the Pakistani army. We captured one such person in October, from ‘No Man’s Land’. He confessed to providing
information to the Pakistanis and also told us that the Pakistani’s had placed a bounty on my head – mistaking me for a Mukti Bahini leader! That night our prisoner unfortunately escaped. My Mukti Bahini colleagues got concerned over my security and insisted on providing me with an armed escort at all times. I refused, but they did so on the quiet. I later learned that my Sahayak and my cook, latter from the Mukti Bahini, were entrusted with this task! My Sahayak was DMT (Driver Mechanical Transport) Das from my Regiment. He was a graduate who had run away from home. He spoke English fluently, played the guitar and was a pop singer too. Often when answering phone calls, he was mistaken for an officer.
At this time, I felt the time was right to occupy an abandoned Pakistani border outpost and use it as a firm base. I detailed a squad from the Mukti Bahini for the purpose and nominated their leader. I told the group to meet me at the IB at sunset for the final briefing, as I was due to return from an ambush mission by then. However, on returning from the ambush, I saw no signs of the group. On my way to the Camp I saw the group moving towards the IB, and rather than postpone the mission, I decided to execute it myself with three fighters from the Mukti Bahini who were with me as an advance party to ensure safe occupation of the BOP. The rest were to follow. We had our personal weapons and a light machine gun with us. Moving quickly in the moonlight, we were about 50 meters from the BOPs first bunker when I saw a flash of light emanating from the post. I opened fire with my carbine and charged towards the post, ordering the others to follow. There was no return fire from the BOP, but when I reached the BOP, I realised that my colleagues had not yet fetched up. After some time, the LMG gunner came into view, carrying the barrel in one hand and the rest of the gun in the other! The other two came up behind him. We quickly assembled the LMG and fired towards the trails leading away from the BOP. The original party detailed for the mission fetched up after about half an hour or so, and we then fortified the post and deployed early warning elements. The enemy however chose not to attack the post, nor shell it. The BOP provided us a good base for further operations. We later came to know that it was occupied by three Razakars, who fled when the post was charged. In war, it is rightly said that boldness pays.
By end October, I was joined by a young Second Lieutenant from the Mukti Bahini, who had just completed a short stint of training at the Indian Military Academy in Dehradun. I made him familiar with our operations and then together, we planned an operation to ambush Pakistani soldiers, who used to visit an abandoned tea garden. We planned the operation for early November. The ambush was set along a track with thick vegetation and high ground on either side. While the two of us were laying booby traps inside a hut which we were told was visited by the Pakistani soldiers, we heard a loud warning cry – ‘Punjabi’ and then all hell broke loose. We were subjected to a barrage of small arms fire and it struck me that someone had betrayed our plans. Our LMG gunner covering the trail did not respond to the enemy fire and it was apparent that the enemy had surrounded us. The hunters were now the hunted. Our only hope lay in taking cover in the jungle high ground. The two of us made a dash for the high ground after lobbing a few grenades at the enemy and fortunately made our ground safely. The place was ideal for taking on the enemy should they have attempted to search for us. However, the enemy abandoned any such attempts. Their leader shouted a warning to his troops not to follow us as they would suffer heavy casualties. The bold action again turned the tables – we again became the hunters. We could hear the enemy clearly, and they withdrew without any attempt to capture us. After waiting for some time we made our way back safely to the IB through the jungle high ground. There we found a large contingent from the camp, which fearing our capture had quickly assembled with weapons for a rescue mission. This highlighted the fighting spirit, esprit de corps and camaraderie that the Mukti Bahini had developed. This filled me with a sense of pride and professional satisfaction. I told them of what had happened and they were none too pleased with the action of some of their colleagues who had abandoned us when the fighting started. They wanted to lynch the deserters for bringing them a bad name. However, that was not an appropriate response and I had the guilty persons arrested and punished. We then proceeded in strength to the ambush site, to confront the Pakistani soldiers. They had however, moved out by then. What we found instead was the person who had betrayed us to the enemy. He was meted out a very severe punishment, as a warning to others. The
news of the operation reached Major General Krishna Rao, who was the GOC 8 Mountain Division. He passed orders to my Sector Headquarters and the posts that ‘Captain Chand not repeat not to cross the border.’ Luckily, I did not have to wait long as the Indian Army moved in shortly for the Liberation War.
A few days later, on 15 November, Colonel Harolikar, Commanding Officer 4/5 Gorkha Rifles came over to my camp for reconnaissance and coordination of a proposed attack on the enemy company at Atgram. The battalion concentrated in my camp on 20 November and launched their attack next day, which also happened to be Eid. To support the attack, the Mukti Bahini fighters deployed on the north bank of the Barak River to cut off any reinforcements and provide surprise. The Battalion successfully executed a silent river crossing, caught the enemy napping, and captured the company locality. Unfortunately, during clearing operations next day, a young officer of the battalion, Captain PK Johry, who was my course mate, came face to face with an enemy soldier holed up in his bunker with a .303 rifle. Johry ordered him to surrender, but the Pakistani fired and reflexively, Johry fired back. Both died instantly, martyrs to the respective cause of their nations. Such is the tragedy of war.
In the advance to Sylhet, the next major objective was Kanaighat ferry, held by an enemy company. Capture of the ferry would enable a link up with Jaintiapur Axis (Shillong-Sylhet), on which 5/5 Gorkha Rifles was advancing towards Sylhet. At this point, 4/5 Gorkha Rifles were pulled out, and Major Ziaur Rahman’s force was tasked to take over the advance along southern banks of the Barak River on AtgramSylhet Axis. Major Rehman’s force was later diverted to Dhaka and the task was taken over by the Mukti Bahini, with a battery of 90 Mountain Regiment providing artillery support.
The enemy repulsed the first attack by the Mukti Bahini on the ferry site. I led the next attack with the Mukti Bahini with effective artillery support and it was successful. There was a Pakistani flag fluttering on the post, which I had brought down and kept as a war trophy. The flag was made of silk, on which I wrote down all the actions with date. We then linked up with Jaintiapur axis and all the forces of Brigadier Wadke, Commander Echo Sector for the advance to Sylhet.
The next major action took place at Umonpur where we used an artillery gun in the direct firing role to capture a well-defended company position. The plan to use one 75/24 howitzer in the direct firing role was worked out with Maj EW Fernandez, the battery commander. We camouflaged the gun and deployed it about 1000 meters from the enemy bunkers on the road to Sylhet. The enemy initially halted the attack launched by the Mukti Bahini and 86 Battalion BSF. The howitzer then opened direct fire on the enemy bunkers and destroyed them, after which the attack went in successfully. There was an interesting aftermath to this successful operation. A captured Prisoner of War (POW) was a wounded Havildar of 15 Punjab. He made two telling statements. “The rockets you fired’ he said, referring to the rounds fired by the howitzer gun, ‘went through our bunkers’ loop holes, causing heavy casualties and forced us to withdraw’. The next point he made was a reflection on leadership styles. “Your officers,’ he said, ‘lead from the front, unlike ours who stay in the rear and lead lavish lifestyles’. That statement was indeed a feather in the cap of the Indian Army.
We resumed our advance to Khadimnagar, which was held by an infantry battalion. An attack was launched from three directions with 5/5 Gorkha Rifles, Mukti Bahini and 86 Battalion BSF. Artillery fire support was provided by 90 Mountain Regiment. The locality was captured quickly as the enemy did not give much resistance. Soon after the capture, Brigadier Wadke, the Echo Sector Commander, Major Sher Amin Singh, the Brigade Major and I got into a captured Pakistani jeep for reconnaissance. As we came close to a culvert, a heavy machine gun detachment of the enemy confronted us. It was apparent that the detachment was isolated and out of communication with their headquarters. We were lucky they did not open fire, thinking us to be their own personnel as we were driving a Pakistani jeep. The Commander told them that Pakistan had surrendered and they should do likewise. This created an element of confusion in the detachment commander’s mind. He told us to go back otherwise he would open fire. We reversed slowly, and then left the area to rejoin our troops. A clearance party was sent to deal with the detachment, but they had withdrawn by then and the area was clear. This was a classic case of presence of mind and confidence saving the day!
On 16 December we linked up with 4/5 Gorkha Rifles. Pakistan had surrendered and Bangladesh was born. In the evening a meeting was arranged with the Sylhet Brigade Commander for surrender formalities. We were surprised to see two Brigade Commanders, as our information suggested there was only one brigade. We moved into Sylhet next morning. It was no surprise to see the city well dug in and heavily defended. The prisoners were moved to a POW camp, established on the outskirts of Sylhet by 4/5 Gorkha Rifles. 5/5 Gorkha Rifles and 86 Battalion BSF were tasked for the security of Sylhet.
There were two interesting sequels to my operations. One day, Brigadier Wadke received a surprising request from Captain Basarat Khan – the ex Atgram 15 Punjab (enemy) Company Commander. He wanted to meet ‘Captain Chand, who played hell into his forces and he had to place a price for his capture dead or alive’. I drove down to the POW camp and met Captain Basarat Khan. He was 6 feet 3 inches tall, and well overshadowed my smaller 5 feet 6 inches frame.
‘I thought you were much bigger,’ were his opening words. ‘It is not size which counts but attitude,’ I replied. He then narrated the stories going around about my activities, and the misunderstanding of my being taken as a Bengali officer from East Pakistan. It was wonderful getting feedback about the success of our operations. The next pertained to the Pakistani flag I had captured in the attack on the ferry position of the enemy. After the capture of Sylhet it was taken as a memento by a General visiting Echo Sector Headquarters. Such are the vagaries of war.
I had entered East Pakistan as part of a force to liberate a country, In mid-January, I returned to India, with mission accomplished and with a deep sense of admiration for my Mukti Bahini colleagues, who despite limited training, performed wonders on the battlefield.
Land to Bury the Dead The Story of Mannan Bhai
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
The sun beat down fiercely as I walked down the dirt track in the
village of Khargor, located under Brahmanbaria District near Comilla in the eastern part of Bangladesh. Armed with just a diary, I was travelling around the hinterland to discuss and record the ninemonth long War of Liberation waged by the people of Bangladesh in 1971. I was following up on a project mainly aimed to create awareness amongst the student community in the rural areas on the events that led to the war of 1971 and the birth of Bangladesh.
At the primary school in Khargor, students had gathered in the open ground next to the school, sheltering themselves under the trees. Braving the heat, they sat in rapt attention as I told them about the genocide committed by the Pakistan Army and the resistance put up by the people of Bangladesh. I also spoke of the mass atrocities, which led to the exodus of 10 million refugees and the displacement of 30 million people, leading to the biggest humanitarian catastrophe of our time. At the end of the discussion, I asked the students if the Pakistan Army and their collaborators had killed any members
of their family during the Liberation War. To my surprise, a large number of students, teachers and even the Headmaster raised their hand. But perhaps I should not have been surprised. The fight for resistance and self-determination had engulfed all parts of East Pakistan, and Khargor, though non-descript was not any different from others. Although I had served and fought during the war, I was unaware about the incident of Khargor. I accompanied the Headmaster to the killing field where the brutality took place and the students followed behind me.
We walked through dried grass and dirt tracks along the banks of the Pagolini River. The villagers on the way, who were taking
shelter from the sweltering summer heat, watched us with almost À lazy curiosity. A few began to follow us and then the crowd started
to grow. My project had turned into a field visit. Sitting on a mat under the shade of a tree, by the banks of the Pagolini River, the villagers told their story, etched like a deep scar on their very souls.
In the early hours of 10 October 1971, it was not yet dawn when the villagers awakened to the sound of launches coming through the Pagolini River. It transpired that a Pakistan Army column had attacked Barail village adjacent to Khargor. Seventeen Freedom Fighters were camped inside that village and the Army was intent on killing them and busting their hideout. “The firing went on for at least an hour,’ the villagers told me. “Then the Freedom Fighters, outnumbered and outgunned made a bid for escape and withdrew towards Khargor.’ Anticipating this move, the Pakistani soldiers | along with their collaborators followed up in steel-bodied launches. Dawn was breaking when they reached Khargor. They then jumped out of their launches and started firing indiscriminately.
“They shot anything that moved,’ said a distraught villager. “We screamed and begged but to no avail. There was no one to help us. We were left abandoned to our fate.’
Another villager got into the conversation. ‘I saw Ful Miah fall to the ground riddled with bullets,’ he said. ‘He was an old man but was tall and strong. I heard a Pakistani radio operator shout into his set that they have killed the Mukti Bahini Commander. But Ful Miah was a simple elderly villager.’
There were many such tales. The gruesome killings continued for over two hours and then the Pakistani soldiers left. They had burnt down the village and in the village fields, 49 dead bodies lay in a pool of blood, their bodies frozen in mute protest. Another 173 were wounded. Khagor village had been rendered into a graveyard.
Slowly the villagers returned from their hiding places. These were the lucky ones; their houses were destroyed, but they survived. Bodies of the maimed and killed lay strewn across the riverbank, the wounded screaming for help, the dead mercifully oblivious to the carnage spread all around them. Nearby villages pitched in to help, carrying the wounded by boat, one by one, to the nearby medical centres. It was almost evening now and the villagers had to bury their dead.
The delayed monsoon that year had submerged the small and only graveyard of the village located in the low land near the river. The water was high, up to knee level and only the houses, supported by bamboo columns stayed above the water level. As per Islamic teachings, the deceased had to be given a proper burial, but there was no land to bury the dead. The villagers then decided to place the dead on rafts and let the river carry them to their final resting place. It was not a decision made lightly. 49 of their brethren would not get a resting place even after death, on the land they were born in. With a heavy heart, the villagers started building the rafts.
All this while, Abdul Mannan was watching the situation quietly. He owned a piece of high land near the riverbank. “Take my land, he said. “Bury my brothers and sisters in my land. We cannot leave our dead to the river.’
There was silence as the import of his words sunk in. Some villagers reminded Mannan that the land he was parting with was all he had.
‘You must make a logical decision and not an emotional one,’ they said. Mannan however, remained firm in his decision.
“This is not the time to think about the future,’ he said simply. Then he, along with Abdul Kalam and Abdul Qader, both madarasa students of the village, along with other villagers buried their dead by nightfall.
Two months later, the joint forces of India and Bangladesh defeated the Pakistan army. The war was over and Bangladesh was born. The whole country erupted into celebratory joy and peace returned after years of brutal violence on the land and its people. For Mannan, however, life became harder than earlier. Having no land of his own, he started working as a labourer in the paddy fields of other villagers.
That day during my visit to Khagor, I met Mannan. He was wearing a torn lungi, a gamcha hung around his neck and he was in poor health. I asked him what the valuation of the land would be today.
‘About 8 lac Taka,’ he replied and the villagers agreed with his assessment.
‘Do you have any regrets about giving away your land?’ I asked. After all, he was landless now and working in the fields of others.
“No,’ he replied simply. “Deep down in my heart, I feel satisfied that my friends and family were not carried away by the waters of the Pagolini River.
That night while returning from the village, a thought struck me. People kill for the possession of land, money and wealth. But here was a man who gave all he possessed, to bury the dead of his village. In spirit perhaps, he was the richest of them all.
Forced Labour and Syedpur Airport CONSTRUCTION
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak,
Bir Protik
On early 1971, the Pakistan Army moved in force into Syedpur J and surrounding villages and received a roaring and enthusiastic welcome from the non-Bengali, Urdu-speaking population residing there. In the post partition period, they had migrated from the Indian state of Bihar and settled here. While the non-Bengalis felt elated, the local Bengali population came increasingly under the heels of the Pakistan Army and the genocide of the town’s Bengali population became the order of the day. The non-Bengalis connived with the Pakistan Army and acted as collaborators. Using fear, threat and arms, they subjugated the Bengali population who found themselves besieged in their own homes in Syedpur. The Pakistan Army undertook a project of constructing a large airport in Syedpur. An airport existed in Lalmonirhat and there was an abandoned airport in Thakurgaon. However, in the light of guerrilla warfare launched by the Mukti Bahini fighters and armed attacks by Bengali people, both the airstrips were considered dangerous by the Pakistan Army. Instead, the Army regarded
Syedpur as a safe place to construct a large airport, as the majority Urdu-speaking non-Bengali community would act in its support and counter any threat from the Bengali population. The runway was to facilitate landing of large aircrafts with troops and arms in Syedpur for supporting the operations of the Pakistan Army in the northern parts of East Pakistan. The fact that the ferry route across the Jamuna River was insecure, thanks to the frequent operations conducted and casualties caused to Pakistani troops by the Mukti Bahini guerrillas, contributed to the decision.
23 Infantry Brigade of Pakistan Army located in the area was given responsibility to construct the airport. Undertaking such a massive construction project in the time of conflict was not possible without a dedicated and hardworking labour force. Finding the labour to work for the occupying Army was a difficult task, so the Pakistan Army took the easy way out. They used Bengalis as forced labour, in gross violation of the Geneva Conventions. They collected around 3,000 people from Syedpur town, Hazarihat, Motlabari, Kamarpur, Laxmanpur, Kashirampur, Shonara and other places in North Bengal and from these, around 800 younger and stronger men were handpicked and interned by force. They kept the detainees in three educational institutions, namely, Syedpur High School, Syedpur Darul Uloom Madrasa and Syedpur Technical School and threatened them with death if they attempted escape. The Pakistan Army now had its captive labour to work at the airport without wages. At eight every morning, about 35-40 trucks lined up in front of the three sites which by now had turned into labour concentration camps. With every truck, armed soldiers and non-Bengali collaborators would act as guards to monitor the labourers. The detainees were hustled into the trucks and those resisting were kicked and whipped. Day after day, this scenario repeated itself with sickening monotony. The trucks would disembark the detainees at the airport, where they worked digging earth, breaking stones, carrying material and a host of other tasks required to construct the airport runway. Throughout the day, they worked in extreme heat without pause. At midday, they received a meal of bread and water. The bread was hard, forcing the detainees to dip it in water to make it chewable. Under such brutal conditions, many detainees
fell sick and some fainted from exhaustion. The non-Bengalis would lash the labour with whips in an effort to get them to work more. Sickness was not tolerated. The names of those who could not work were put into a diary that was termed as the ‘Kharcha Khata,’ which literally translated meant that they were expendable, an euphemism to indicate that they could be killed. Many of the sick were carried away and none ever returned. If a detainee argued or tried to run away, he was caught and carried by truck to Syedpur Cantonment never to return. Fear kept the detainees working, in spite of sickness and tiredness.
Escaping from the airport site or from the living quarters was impossible as armed Pakistani soldiers guarded both places. Major Javed was in charge of the airport project and under him were Captain Gul and Subedar Fateh Khan all belonging to 26 Frontier Force Regiment. Gul carried a pistol in his hand, threatening to kill the detainees. Khan carried a whip, which he used liberally to beat the people with, even if they became sick or fell unconscious. The non-Bengali collaborators regularly tortured the detainees and their names became etched in the mind. Among the worst offenders were Jahan, Ejahar, Matin, Hashmi, Qaiyum, Sultan Khan, Mojahar, Ismail, Mohiuddin, Kalua Dhopi, and Swampad. There were others too, not a single person showing even an ounce of humanity. Of the 800 detainees, 350 died while working at the airport. Mansur Ali, Gomiruddin, Abdul Gafur, Abdus Samad, Sultan, Kalam, Hishabuddin, Rafiqullah, Bechu Miah, Abdul Motaleb, Rajob Ali, Afzal, Hatem Ali, Shahadat Hossain, Mofizuddin, Abdul Kalam, Jamiruddin, all died while working on the airport project. There were others too, many of whose names could not be obtained. The Pakistanis had destroyed all records. The work, which started in June, continued until November. The possibility of a major war with India then ended the project. It remains ironic that the Pakistanis named the airport ‘Zam Zam’, after the name of the Holy water from the Holy well of Mecca. Many of the detainees died while building the runway, begging for just a drop of water, which too they did not receive.
In his book, The 1971 Indo-Pak War: A Soldier’s Narrative the Commanding Officer of 26 Frontier Force Regiment Lieutenant
Colonel (later Major General) Hakeem Arshad Qureshi states that they had to surrender in the airport which they (soldiers of 26 Frontier Force Regiment) built on a self-help basis. This was a blatant falsehood. 26 Frontier Force Regiment was mainly deployed in full strength in Dinajpur area during 1971. The besieged Bengalis constructed the airport as forced labourers; there was no evidence of working by the Pakistan Army on a self-help basis.
On 16 December 1971, the Pakistan Army surrendered to the joint forces of the Indian Army and Mukti Bahini at the Syedpur Airport. Brigadier Iqbal Shafi, Commander 23 Brigade and his officers and men stood in line on the runway. The units lined up were Pakistan Army’s 25, 48 and 8 Punjab Regiment, 26 Frontier Force Regiment, and 83 Mujahid Battalion. One by one, the unit commanders ordered their men to lay down their arms. Then it was the turn of 26 Frontier Force Regiment. “Zamin Fung’ (ground arms), blurted their Commanding Officer Lieutenant Colonel Hakeem Arshad Qureshi. The men then put down their arms. There was some consolation for the people who suffered that 26 Frontier Force Regiment had to perform their last rites over their professional demise in a shameful act. The regiment surrendered at the very spot where they tortured and killed hundreds of Bengali civilians, while making them do forced labour. They were lucky to be treated as soldiers and taken as prisoners of war. They should have been tried as war criminals.
Section 2 Stories
from the 13-day War
1 Making of a Plan: The Capture of Dhaka
Maj Gen Hardev S Kler, MVC, AVSM 2 Operations of 61 Mountain Brigade
Gen Deepak Kapoor, PVSM, AVSM, SM, VSM 3 The Battle of Gangasagar
Col Ashok Kumar Tara, VrC 4 Artillery in the Battle of Akhaura (OP Nutcracker)
Brig Onkar Singh Goraya 5 The Battle of Jamalpur
Maj Gen Hardev S Kler, MVC, AVSM 6 A Story of two Messages
Lt Col Keshav S Puntambekar 7 Against all Odds: The Battle for Sylhet
Maj Gen Ian Cardozo, AVSM, SM 8 Prisoner for a Fortnight
Guardsman Suresh Singh 9 An Antitank Gunners Story
Hav Mukund Singh Hira 10 Code Word ‘Himmetha’
Sub Tirath Singh 11 Random Musings
Hony Capt Jai Singh
The Messenger, Mr Zohal Haq Munshi (Centre) with Maj Gen Gandhary Nagra (Left) and Brig HS Kler (Right). Pic taken after the Jamalpur
Garrison surrendered.
Top two pics: Captured weapons and ammunition being collected and accounted for after the Battle of Jamalpur. Bottom: General Nagra
inspecting captured guns.
Col Sultan Ahmad’s bravado was just empty posturing. The morning after the battle of Jamalpur, the road was littered with enemy dead. The above pic shows Brig Kler briefing Gen Nagra of the previous night’s battle. In the background, the villagers
look on at their tormentors, finally silenced forever.
This pic of Brig Kler and Gen Nagra was taken by a London Times reporter after the battle of Jamalpur, outside the office of the Jamat-e-Islami. The Jamat played a nefarious role in the war by supporting the Pakistan Army and indulged in large-scale torture, rape
and murder of the local populace along with the Pakistan Army.
Making of a Plan The Capture of Dhaka
Maj Gen Hardev S Kler, MVC, AVSM
7 lot has been written about who made plans for the capture
Tof Dhaka and when those plans were made. Various versions exist and some may contradict each other. Perhaps plans were made and spoken of at different levels, but in the interests of posterity, I relate here the sequence of events as I saw them unfold.
It was luck of the draw that 95 Mountain Brigade was assigned to 101 Communication Zone, under the command of Major General Gurbux Singh Gill before the start of the war. I was the Brigade Commander at that time. General Gill, as Commander of 101 Communication Zone, asked me to meet him at Shillong for a briefing about my task. I met him in October. The task as spelled out by him was the capture of Mymensingh. Accordingly, by the end of October 1971, my brigade moved into the concentration area at Tura in Meghalaya. We collected all available intelligence about the area of operations, the lay of the land, obstacles et al. A scrutiny of the lay of the land struck me that our planners had completely missed out the tactical and strategic role of the land
approach to Dhaka. Another plan, which initially seemed farfetched, then started taking shape in my mind. In broad terms, this involved an advance from Kamalpur to Bakshiganj, crossing the River Brahmaputra west of Jamalpur, establishing a roadblock on the road Jamalpur-Tangail, ask for a parachute drop at Tangail to cut off the withdrawal of enemy troops and then dash for Dhaka.
The Army Commander, Lieutenant General JS Aurora visited my Brigade on 4 November. While I was driving him to the ad hoc Bangla Brigade, I broached the subject of the capture of Dhaka as tactfully as I could. I explained to him that I had formulated an alternative plan, but had no time to discuss the same with my immediate superior, Major General Gurbux Singh Gill, the 101 Communication Zone Commander, and was not sure how he would react. The Army Commander assured me that I could present my plan and he would handle General Gill. After completion of the visit to the Bangla Brigade, we reverted to my headquarters where I presented the alternate plan to General Aurora. Broadly, it comprised contacting Dhaka within 12 days as follows:
• D Day: Surround Bakshiganj. • D plus 1 Day: Capture Bakshiganj. • D plus 2 Day: Move 1 Maratha Light Infantry (MLI) cross
country to cross the Brahmaputra River. Simultaneously, 13 Rajputana Rifles to advance on track Bakshiganj-North Bank River Brahmaputra.
D plus 3 Day: 13 Guards to follow 1 MLI. • D plus 4-5 Days: 1 MLI to establish roadblock on Road
Jamalpur-Tangail and 13 Guards to establish roadblock on Road Jamalpur-Mymensingh. D plus 6 Day: Capture Jamalpur, using one infantry brigade for the attack. This to be done in conjunction with a para drop of one battalion at Tangail. D plus 7/8 Day: Link up with para battalion at Tangail and
thereafter capture Tangail. • D plus 9/10 Day: Advance on Road Tangail-Turg R Bridge.
D plus 12 Day: Contact Dhaka.
The Army Commander was impressed with my presentation and decided it required further refinement and deliberations. He
accordingly gave me a week to prepare a detailed plan, which he would test in a war game exercise on a sand model.
On 12 November, General Aurora, along with a team of officers from his operational staff, arrived at my headquarters for the war game. Also present was Major General Gurbux Singh Gill, Commanding 101 Communication Zone. Brigadier Sant Singh, MVC, was appointed enemy commander. A lot of discussions took place post the war game. After tying up loose ends, General Aurora approved the plan.
In his book, The Birth of a Nation, General Jacob wrote,
No war game was held for 101 Communication Zone, as other than
95 Mountain Brigade, troops had yet to be allotted.
Here I differ with General Jacob. As a first-hand participant in the entire sequence of events, I vouch for the war game being held in the manner as stated above. General Aurora saw merit in the plan presented in the war game and approved it. With his approval, the plan became his plan. Lieutenant General Depinder Singh, who was Sam Manekshaw’s Military Assistant during the war, has stated that the advance to Dhaka was considered after 9 December 1971. I am not sure what he means by considered. War games for the para drop were regularly conducted in Eastern Command in November, and the troops trained for the same. To my knowledge, General Aurora approved the plan to contact Dhaka on 12 November. There is thus no doubt in my mind, that the plan to capture Dhaka was that of the Army Commander Lt Gen JS Aurora. The credit for the same must go to him.
Operations of 61 Mountain Brigade
Gen Deepak Kapoor, PVSM, AVSM, SM, VSM
phile a historical account of the 1971 operations has been
covered in a number of books written by various authors from time to time, individual perspectives of those who took part in the operations in erstwhile East Pakistan have hardly found mention in the books. That is as it should be, since the authors had vast ground to cover in a limited space. However, a number of individual narratives make interesting reading and need to be preserved for posterity to provide a humane touch to the historical side. This narrative of the operations of 61 Mountain Brigade, as experienced by me, is one such attempt.
I was a Captain with four years of service and was posted as GSO3 in Headquarter 2 Mountain Artillery Brigade at Lekhapani, just short of the Indo-Myanmar border. Brigadier KP Pande (popularly known as Tom Pande), a professionally competent gunner whose reputation for flamboyance and verve preceded him wherever he went, commanded the artillery brigade. I had received him at Guwahati when he was posted as the Commander. In over a year
since then, he had made a permanent mark on the units under his command as well as on his staff.
By March 1971, Pakistani army atrocities on East Pakistan nationals crossed all limits, resulting in millions fleeing and crossing the international border (IB) into India, where refugee camps were established for them. The birth of Mukti Bahini was a spontaneous reaction of Bangladeshis to avenge Pakistani atrocities and for liberating their land. The Indian Army fully supported the Mukti Bahini, resulting in skirmishes all along the India-East Pakistan border.
I was undergoing a course at Deolali, Maharashtra, when orders were received for its premature termination and our immediate return to units in end October 1971. In the meanwhile, Commander 2 Mountain Artillery Brigade received orders to support Mukti Bahini and 61 Mountain Brigade operations in the area of Dhalai Tea Estate. By the time I reached there on 31 Oct 71, the Dhalai battle had become the biggest pre 1971 war operational confrontation between India and Pakistan in the eastern sector and it had a profound effect on all subsequent operations.
The Dhalai Battle It started as a minor skirmish by the Mukti Bahini assisted by 61 Mountain Brigade attacking the Pakistani post in Dhalai tea estate on 28 October. Over the next two days, rapid escalation resulted in Pakistan 14 Infantry Division deploying a full Brigade in the area with one infantry battalion specifically defending the Dhalai Tea Garden. On the Indian side, 61 Mountain Brigade, commanded by Brigadier Shiv Yadav was tasked to capture the position, his artillery advisor being Brigadier KP Pande.
61 Mountain Brigade had three infantry battalions, 2 Jat, 7 Rajputana Rifles (Raj Rif) and 14 Guards under command. On 29 October 1971, 2 Jat was tasked to capture the position. As the initial attacks did not succeed, the attack was re-launched the next night. However, despite best efforts and suffering a large number of casualties, success remained elusive. During the course of this intense fight, Commander 61 Mountain Brigade, Brigadier Yadav, also became a casualty. Early next morning, the Corps Commander,
Gen Sagat Singh, visited the Brigade and asked Brigadier Pande to take over as commander 61 Mountain Brigade and continue the attack on the position. 7 Raj Rif was tasked by the Commander to carry on the attack that night. It was in the forming up place (FUP) of 7 Raj Rif that I joined Brigadier Pande immediately on return from Deolali – right in the middle of all the firing.
The attack was launched as planned and saw some intense hand-tohand fighting. Finally, after suffering very heavy casualties, Major Punia’s company won the day for 7 Raj Rif and by 1 AM next morning, Phase 1 objectives of the battalion had been captured. However, within an hour and a half, the Pakistanis counter attacked with a battalion, which engulfed the tactical headquarters of 61 Mountain Brigade besides other localities. The sight of the Brigade Commander firing a LMG alongside the rest of us to ward off the counter attack was indeed amusing. Finally, the counter attack was beaten with heavy casualties to the enemy and 7 Raj Rif continued with its remaining phases making slow but steady progress. By eight in the morning, total success had been achieved though at heavy cost. In the process, we lost Major Khatri, the light battery commander who had the courage to call for fire at his own position. Major Punia was awarded the Vir Chakra (VrC) for his bravery.
Brigadier Tom Pande was recommended for a Maha Vir Chakra (MVC) and directed to continue in command of the brigade, in view of the forthcoming operations. In fact, so great was the Corps Commander, General Sagat Singh’s confidence in him that he detached 61 Mountain Brigade from 57 Mountain Division and launched it as an independent force for the main operations, acting as a link between 57 Mountain Division, commanded by Major General Ben Gonzales in the North and 23 Mountain Division, commanded by Major General Rocky Heera in the South.
Advance to Daudkhandi When Pakistan launched pre-emptive air strikes on Indian air bases on 03 Dec 71, 4 Corps was in full readiness to launch operations into East Pakistan from the eastern side. 4 Corps had tasked 8 Mountain Division under Major General Krishna Rao to launch operations towards Sylhet. Simultaneously, 57 Mountain Division was to cross
the Meghna River at Akhaura and 23 Mountain Division was to attack enemy positions at Fenny.
61 Mountain Brigade was chosen for the independent task of bypassing the formidable enemy defences at Comilla from the North and capture Chandina, which lay on the strategically crucial ComillaDaudkhandi-Narayanganj-Dhaka axis. The Brigade was to block enemy withdrawal towards Dhaka by holding Chandina strongly and also attack the Comilla defences from the rear. Simultaneously, it was tasked to advance to Daudkhandi, cross Meghna River and capture Narayanganj. It was to operate independently, directly under the Corps. Thus, 61 Mountain Brigade had been tasked more heavily than some of the divisions under 4 Corps, highlighting the Corps Commander’s confidence in the Brigade Commander.
I had the privilege of leading the Brigade advance into East Pakistan towards Burichang on the night of 03 Dec in a troop of tanks along with a company of 12 Kumaon. Surprise was complete and Burichang was captured by 2230 hours. 12 Kumaon had to face some heavy fighting in Chandina but finally it fell by 0330 hours. The Brigade Commander also arrived at Chandina accompanied by the Commanding Officer of 23 Mountain Regiment, the direct support artillery regiment of the Brigade.
Having achieved total success at the end of a sleepless night in the wintry cold of December, a bit of rest was warranted before commencing operations early next morning. All we could muster in the village of Chandina at 0430 hours that morning was a large sized wooden cot (takhat posh) with one blanket next to a makeshift fireplace. It was a funny sight with five of us of different ranks (Brigadier Pande, Col Jagjeet Singh, CO 23 Mountain Regiment, Lt Col Sardeshpande, C012 Kumaon, Major Lamba, 21C 12 Kumaon and self, a captain) lying breadth wise on that cot with the solitary blanket covering our legs. Fatigue and tiredness took over soon enough and we all passed out only to be woken up an hour later with fire having burnt down and all of us trying to grab a bigger share of the only blanket in the biting cold. In all the pulling and pushing, rank and seniority had become the first casualty, much to the amusement of all of us. It also underlines the camaraderie existing within the services!
Daudkhandi was secured by the evening, much to the delight of the Corps Commander who paid us a helicopter visit. Major Tej Kaul was awarded a VrC and Brigadier Pande was recommended
for a MVC for the second time. Rather than make a dash to Dhaka 3 at this stage, the Corps Commander wanted both 57 Mountain
Division and 23 Mountain Division to catch up before making
a simultaneous approach to Dhaka from the east. 61 Mountain * Brigade was directed to attack the formidable Comilla defences
from the west.
23 Mountain Division Operations The lightning speed of 61 Mountain Brigade operations upset all Pakistani calculations and made the task of 23 Mountain Division advancing towards Fenni much easier. The 53 Infantry Brigade of the Pakistan Army under Brigadier Aslam Khan, had created a formidable defended sector at Fenni and was fully prepared to face any Indian onslaught. Capture of Chandina quickly by 61 Mountain Brigade convinced Brigadier Aslam that the Brigade was part of 23 Mountain Division and the rest of the division was heading for Laksham to the north of Fenni. So he gave orders for Fenny defences to be vacated and occupation of a defended sector at Laksham. However, by the time his brigade arrived at Laksham, it had already been captured by elements of 23 Mountain Division. When they realised their folly, they tried to fall back to Fenny only to discover that Fenny too had fallen by then.
Thus it was that on 10 Dec 71, a demoralised, disintegrating and hounded 53 Infantry Brigade led by Brigadier Aslam Khan was looking for the Indian Army to surrender. Fearful of being lynched by the Mukti Bahini and the enraged civil population, for all the atrocities they had committed, they wanted to ensure their personal safety by surrendering to the Indian Army. At about 0930 hours in the morning, they accosted a sentry of Headquarter 61 Mountain Brigade near Chandina to say they wished to surrender. The sentry conveyed the message to the Brigade Major adding there were around 1500 fully armed Pakistani officers and men. We, at the Brigade Headquarter were a bit concerned that if the Pakistanis realised that there were only about 50 men to whom they were
surrendering, they might just decide to physically overpower us and claim a victory of sorts.
Quickly a plan was devised for Brigadier Pande to masquerade as GOC of a division with me to act as his ADC and the DQ to act as the GSO2 (ops) of the Divisional HQ. Appropriate badges of rank were worn by the GOC and at 11 AM a convoy of 5 vehicles including a rover and protection drove into the area where the Pakistanis were waiting. The charade of Brigadier Aslam surrendering to the GOC was played out and the Brigade Commander, 28 officers and about 1650 Pak soldiers were ordered to deposit their weapons along with ammunition in makeshift kotes. A security guard was detailed to guard all these POWs. Brigadier Aslam was a broken man who kept begging to be saved from the Bangladeshis.
Surrender at Comilla Preparations for the attack on Comilla from the west by 61 Mountain Brigade started in right earnest from 11 December. Major attacks were launched by 7Raj Rif on the night of 13 and 14 Dec but these were only partially successful. A two battalion attack was planned for 15 December when news poured in that Gen Niazi, the Commanderin-Chief of all Pakistani forces in East Pakistan had decided to surrender to the Indian Army on 16 morning at Dhaka. With that news, the resistance of Comilla Garrison crumbled and Brigadier Atif, the Comilla Garrison Commander who was a hockey Olympian and President of the Pakistan Hockey Federation, also prepared for surrender at Comilla stadium the next morning. Meanwhile, on 13 9 morning, a crossing across the formidable Meghna had been affected by 12 Kumaon and by using the solitary functioning ferry and a host of rapidly collected local fishing boats, the bulk of the battalion had crossed through and captured Narayanganj without much resistance. The way to Dhaka now lay clear.
The formal surrender of the Comilla garrison led by Brigadier Atif took place at 10 AM next morning in the stadium. Recognising Brigadier Pande’s contribution, the Corps Commander specifically tasked him to take the surrender. The humiliation and dejection on Pakistani faces was writ large as the ceremony progressed.
Incidentally, Brigadier Pande was recommended for a MVC for the third time on 16 December. Ultimately, the government in its wisdom combined all three recommendations and awarded a MVC to this great soldier.
By the afternoon of 16 December, the brigade was on its way to Dhaka and the advance elements of the Brigade Headquarter, including me, arrived to a burning Dhaka at 7 pm in the evening and found refuge in a vacant bungalow in Dhanmondi, an affluent area of Dhaka. The rest is history.
The Battle of Gangasagar
Col Ashok Kumar Tara, Vrc
Dy the autumn of 1971, tensions with Pakistan had risen to an
unprecedented level. We knew that war was inevitable. My battalion, 14 Guards, which was part of 73 Mountain Brigade, was ordered to deploy astride Agartala on the Tripura-East Pakistan border and we were in position by 1 December.
The initial task of 57 Mountain Division was to capture Akhaura and the General Officer Commanding 57 Mountain Division, Major General BF Gonsalves planned to capture the objective using 73 Mountain Brigade and 311 Mountain Brigade. 73 Mountain Brigade under Brigadier Tuli was to capture Gangasagar, while 311 Mountain Brigade was to capture Akhaura to the North. Gangasagar was a small town strategically located at the crossroads between Brahmanbaria, Bhairab Bazar, Kamalpur and the main Akhaura railway station. Capture of this town, especially its railway station, would almost certainly ensure cutting off the enemy supply lines and delay re-enforcements from reaching their frontlines.
I was commanding A Company. In discussions we the company commanders had with our Commanding Officer (CO), Lieutenant Colonel VN Channa, an initial plan to conventionally assault the
enemy with armoured support which was discarded as a head on confrontation could induce heavy collateral damage. Despite the scepticism of the higher command, my CO deemed it prudent to address the enemy in an unconventional manner. He decided to view the situation from a deserted village close to Gangasagar, to consider all possible alternatives prior to engaging the enemy. I was part of the select team mobilised to form a reconnaissance party, the others being Major SK Kundu, Major Shanti Khanna, Captain OP Kohli and Lance Naik DN Das. The aim was to assimilate ground intelligence and look for any visible signs of weakness in the enemy defences before we made our final assault plan.
It soon became clear that the enemy was well dug in and had strengthened its defensive perimeter by extensively mining the area around the township, especially around the railway station. Any straight out armed altercation would certainly entail heavy casualties. While we were contemplating alternatives, we observed a handful of Pakistani troops pushing a rail-wagon over the tracks. This indicated that the area between the tracks was not mined. This information provided us an alternate to the conventional line of attack. We returned to base and had another discussion with the CO based on the intelligence gained thus far. The discussion revolved around approaching the objective in single file, moving between the railway tracks. In spite of the underlying risks, we felt confident of achieving success with minimal loss of life and equipment. This highly unconventional proposal was against all known military norms and conventions and was met with much apprehension at the higher levels in the chain of command. Fortunately, the higher leadership let the unit have its way, no doubt influenced by the aggressive enthusiasm, determination and the confidence shown by the battalion. The stage was now set for the capture of Gangasagar. As per the battalion plan, my company was to spearhead the attack over the railway tracks and take control of the railway station. B Company, led by Captain OP Kohli, would move west and clear the built-up area, around the pond, behind the station.
On 3 December, around 0300 hours, under a thick blanket of fog, my company was in close vicinity of the objective. We moved
steadily forward, when suddenly the stillness and the silence was broken by a loud booming command.
‘Kaun Hain’ (Who goes there).
We had evidently reached the forward Medium Machine Gun (MMG) bunker of the enemy.
“Tera Baap’ (Your father), roared Subedar Hoshiyar Singh as he charged into the bunker.
Almost instantaneously, all hell broke loose. Subedar Hoshiyar Singh was met by a hail of gunfire and was critically wounded. The situation at this time was critical. The MMG bunker had to be neutralised fast, else our casualties would mount astronomically. I had a Molotov cocktail with me and I threw that in the bunker, following up immediately with a hand grenade. This temporarily subdued the enemy. Before he could recover, I caught hold of the blistering barrel of the machine gun and pulled it out of the dugout. This unnerved the two remaining enemy soldiers who were still inside the bunker. They made a dash for survival. I brought down the first man, barely a few feet from me with a burst of automatic fire from my carbine and he crumpled to the floor. The second burst from my carbine brought the second person down. The bunker had now been secured. My men then moved rapidly, swiftly eliminating all opposition. The battle predictably was fought at close quarters, involving hand-to-hand combat at some places, but the railway station was now under our control.
Meanwhile, B Company had moved close to the enemy lines next to the pond. Having lost the element of surprise, they came under heavy fire. Regardless of the odds, they upheld the assault and attacked with grit and determination. In the ensuing battle, Lance Naik Albert Ekka was seriously injured. Not concerned about his personal safety, he managed to crawl up to the MMG bunker which was holding up the advance and destroyed it before succumbing to his wounds. He was awarded India’s highest award for gallantry, the Param Vir Chakra (PVC). Speaking many years later about Albert Ekka, his erstwhile company commander, who had retired as a Colonel, had this to say of the heroism of this brave son of India:
“He led the assault and followed my orders till we reached a point about halfway through our objective. One can imagine walking along the railway tracks when a medium machine gun opened up from the top of a two-storied cabin on one side. The company was suffering heavy casualties when Ekka crawled forward yet again, climbed the iron stairs on the side of the building and neutralised the two Pakistani soldiers inside the bunker. It was when trying to climb down from the tower (cabin) that Ekka finally collapsed and died of his injuries. It was this final attack that made the difference.’
The bravery shown by the battalion made the difference and resulted in a well-deserved victory. The nation too recognised the acts of valour. Besides the posthumous award of Param Vir Chakra to Lance Naik Albert Ekka, I was awarded the Vir Chakra and Captain Kohli and three others were honoured with the award of Sena Medal. For us, it was a fitting start to the war and facilitated the subsequent capture of Akhaura.
Artillery in the Battle of Akhaura (OP Nutcracker)
Brig Onkar Singh Goraya
Ay Fire Direction Center (FDC) was established on the road TV Cto Agartala Airport, dug down and fitted with electric light tapped from the nearest pole. It was ready on 30 November 1971, but I occupied it a day later after producing and distributing the paper work, particularly the task tables. Soon after occupying my FDC, I double-checked telephone links to the adjutants of the four regiments, gun position officer (GPO) of medium battery (Med Bty), the air observation post flight (AOP Flt) and counter bombardment (CB) command post (CP). Radio silence was in force, to be broken only when live fire was called for. The adjutants and gun position officers confirmed to me that the target data had been worked out, double-checked and circulated to all concerned at the gun end. Seventy-eight guns of assorted calibers were ready and pulling at the leash, only awaiting an appropriate fire order from me. In turn, I was all ears for a call from any of the 40 odd forward observers to respond within moments.
I was apprehensive of the ability of my signal operators to receive and pass artillery fire orders on line and radio. Strict discipline,
codes and conventions govern these orders, which only gunners understand and follow. Mistakes in conveyance of fire orders could jeopardize safety and lead to serious consequences including delayed response. The radio operators in my CP all belonged to the Corps of Signals and though proficient in their own trade, were not familiar with, nor trained to handle artillery fire orders. I therefore borrowed two operators from the regiments. I was lucky to have in my CP, Captain Vahi who had joined 65 Mountain Regiment on posting just a day earlier and could be spared by the Regiment at that point of time. He assisted me in fire control duties during busy periods. In addition, Major OP Manchanda, Second in Command (2 IC) of 82 Light Regiment, a highly qualified gunner was there to hold my hand when in need. Huddled in the FDC, we waited with baited breath for the deadly game to begin, our thoughts and sympathies with the columns of soldiers advancing to close with the enemy hidden in the dark shroud of night.
On 1 December, 10 Bihar crossed the international border (IB) at 5.30 pm and secured Lonesar, but could not find a suitable gap in the enemy’s defences for the following battalion (4 Guards) to pass through to envelop Akhaura from the West. The gap was found at 2 am, through personal efforts of the Brigade Commander, Brigadier Mishra, who had moved forward. Earlier, in the planning stage, it had been decided that if a gap was not found by midnight, 4 Guards could cancel their envelopment move. However, Col Himmeth Singh, the unit’s commanding officer opted to continue. Progress was slow, especially west of the railway line, the area being marshy with numerous beels interspersed with muddy mounds. A thick fog hung over the water bodies, reducing visibility to a few feet. The enemy sensed some movement without being able to pinpoint where, and called for artillery fire with airburst ammunition. Fortunately, that was way off the target.
So far unmolested, 4 Guards managed to secure its assigned objectives – Barisal, Shyamnagar, Koda and Chandi, some of them against light opposition. Akhaura was thus completely enveloped from the west and northwest and the railway line was blocked. Due to darkness and fog, the troops at places occupied positions too close to the enemy unknowingly, which they realized when the fog
started lifting at about 9 AM. Surprised to find each other barely 50 yards away, both sides at once got into a firefight. As Captain Sundram, the OP officer with Major Kharbanda peeped out of his foxhole, he got a bullet in his forehead. His Technical Assistance (TA) too died. Those were the first casualties from the artillery.
Our own artillery engagements planned for the attack on Akhaura had yet to commence. It had been decided that barring emergent situations, artillery would remain silent until midnight so as not to alert the enemy, while the infantry moved silently to close with the Akhaura defences. Post midnight, there was no bar. With a view to softening up the defended localities of Akhaura, a heavy salvo was pre-planned to land on Akhaura exactly at 0001hours – TOT (Time on Target). At the designated time I ordered ‘fire’, and 78 guns, already loaded, discharged their lethal cargo with an earthshaking roar. The first strike of the sledgehammer had fallen on the anvil – Akhaura. In this programme, which I called ‘milk round’, all guns within range dwelt on one target by turn for a few minutes. A few prominent targets I remember to this day – Azampur, Railway Station, Y Junction, Dadu Mian’s House, Afzal Mian’s House, Titas Bridge and Embankment. In the ensuing four days, I served the ‘milk round’ so often, that the names came to rest on my tongue forever.
The eerie silence of the village was suddenly broken by deafening bangs, flashes, smoke, dust and fires, all together. As per reports from the forward OPs, all hell was let loose at the target end; the fire was intense and accurate. Our own infantry in the vicinity was awestruck and elated. Besides lifting their spirits, the fire showed them direction to their objectives. Shahzaman Mozumdar, a 16-year-old Mukti guerrilla was watching the battle from his dug out in Major Matin’s company, deployed North of Agartala Airfield. Many years later he went on to record his experiences in his book ‘Born for 71.’ An extract from the same follows –
‘Major Matin was inspecting our defences and came to our trench. He kept looking at his watch. Finally, he told me that an Indian formation would soon start an attack on Akhaura. The calendar rolled from 30 November to December 01 and around 1:00 a.m. (He is wrong by one day. Actually it was midnight 1/2 December). Suddenly,
without any warning, shattering the absolute stillness of the night the thunderous boom of many artillery guns engulfed the entire battlefield. I had never heard so many artillery guns firing simultaneously—the roar of the guns was stupendous. Many of the shells were flying over our heads creating the typical ‘whooose’ noise of sub-sonic artillery shells. I later came to know that entire divisional artillery (about 72 guns of various calibres) was firing on the defences of Akhaura. The intensive artillery barrage continued for about half an hour and then stopped.’
Once the silence was broken, the guns kept belching almost without a break for the next four days. There was hardly a moment when the gun area was not resounding with gunfire from this battery or that. Along with demands for fire, the forward BCs and OPs were flooding me with minute-to-minute progress of battle. I was passing the vital information to the Division Headquarter for my Brigade Commander and the Divisional Commander to digest and use for further planning. All battle-experienced soldiers admit that artillery communications are the quickest and most reliable means of passing information in battle. This maxim proved right yet again.
Soon it was daylight of 2 December and time to expect enemy’s reaction. 4 Guards reported tanks moving from Northwest for a counter attack. During the planning stage Colonel Himmeth Singh had voiced his concern about the tank threat and was promised an anti-tank shield of PT 76 tanks by next morning. As a precaution against the tank threat however, the battalion push carried two 106 mm recoilless anti-tank guns on bicycles, through marsh and mud.
The PT 76 tanks however could not reach, as the nine tanks which had crossed the IB had got stuck in paddy fields and were also facing an attack by enemy Sabre aircraft. Unfortunately, the recoilless rifles too failed to function, leaving the battalion open to attack by enemy tanks. Artillery fire proved to be the saviour. I made all guns within range ‘available to the frenzied calls from the battalion.
Tank attack was not the only threat faced by 4 Guards. Alfa’Company, commanded by Major Chandrakant (nicknamed ‘Paunchy’) had blocked the railway line to Brahmanbaria. One platoon of his company was deployed astride the railway embankment with one
section spilling over to the other side. Paunchy asked Captain Mahipal Singh, the FOO to go along with this section. The section position dominated the River Titas beyond, and its loop passing under the railway line. The Pakistanis plied boats on it for logistics. To clear the block they used an ingenious method. They rigged up a small train with an engine and three or four bogies were sand bagged for protection and weapon emplacement and parked it on the high embankment, isolating the section beyond. From the train they let loose a hail of fire with automatics on both sides causing serious damage particularly to the isolated section across. Artillery fire could not be used as it would cause greater damage to own troops, so Paunchy finally managed to get some anti-tank weapons, with which he engaged the train. The train withdrew, but by then the platoon was almost wiped out’. Captain Mahipal (later Major General) barely survived, but lost his operator and radio set. Others were either killed or taken prisoners.
On 3 and 4 December, 4 Guards faced repeated counterattacks with tanks and infantry which were beaten back every time by the bravery of the troops supported by artillery fire. The medium guns were particularly in great demand. Captain Harmohinder Singh the FOO from the medium battery brought down effective fire that kept the enemy tanks at bay. The Battalion remained steadfast in their positions, even though cut off from their logistics. They discovered that the enemy had converted the rail line into a rail-cum-road by removing one of the two rail tracks and the rail bridge and the bridge over Titas on Road Comilla-Brahmanbaria (C&B Road) were intact. Based on this vital information, the Corps Commander and the Divisional Commander decided to develop subsequent operations towards Brahmanbaria instead of Kasba-Comilla as originally planned.
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1
From the dead and those captured alive from this platoon the enemy was able to establish the identity of 4 Guards. On 2 December, Pakistan Radio falsely announced that 4 Guards was completely decimated, their Commanding Officer Colonel Himmeth Singh killed and Major Chandrakant captured alive. A few friends, on hearing the broadcast arrived at the house of Col Himmeth Singh in Jodhpur to condole Mrs. Himmeth. However, on seeing the lady in a calm and normal frame of mind they withheld the bad news, thus saving themselves from serious embarrassment.
While 4 Guards held the cordon despite repeated attacks by the enemy, the other two battalions edged forward to probe their respective objectives in Akhaura proper. Soon after daylight, the FOOs adjusted each fire unit by observed fire and recorded the targets ‘as fired.’ Thus inherent inaccuracies due to lack of proper survey were eliminated. Our strategy to keep different attack fire plans ‘on call’ worked well. Each attack was supported with timely and adequate weight of fire. One by one, the assigned objectives were captured in the face of stiff resistance. Effective artillery fire kept the enemy’s head down, thus saving casualties to our infantry. The final coup-de-grace was delivered by 18 Rajput on the night of 4/5 Dec. In this attack, Second Lieutenant Uttam Singh, FOO ex 65 Mountain Regiment earned a second lease of life helped by a wooden electric pole just ten inches thick. He was barely 6 meters from an enemy bunker spewing automatic fire constantly. Uttam – went to ground behind the pole. Bullets grazed past his head on both sides. One cut through his earlobe but he survived. After a bitter fight and mopping up during the rest of the night the Rajputs declared Akhaura clear of the enemy.
The defenders of Akhaura fought doggedly and inflicted considerable damage to our troops. In the words of Major General Muqeem Khan”, “the fiercest battle of the eastern border was fought around Akhaura.’ As per our assessment, there were only some mortars and one battery of guns supporting the enemy, on occasions split in two troops of three guns each. In addition, effective counter bombardment from our side further curtailed effectiveness of the meagre firepower available to the enemy. The long base of sound ranging equipment proved a valuable asset. We had achieved a high degree of coordination in location of enemy weapons and retaliation. Though only one medium battery was available, our retaliation was instant and accurate, thus forcing the enemy guns to scoot or risk damage. Perhaps anticipating such a punishment, the enemy gunners seemed to have perfected their drills in ‘quick scoot after a shoot.’ After the battle, we found this battery had a number of well-prepared positions (near Arhand), all stocked with adequate ammunition. In one such position 4 Guards came across
_____________
2 Pakistan’s Crisis in Leadership, p. 170.
two gun towing trucks and ammunition boxes smouldering, a clear testimony to our effective CB.
We felt quite secure in the gun areas, as we knew the enemy had no means to raid or interfere in any manner. Only once (perhaps on the night of 2/3 Dec), while I was resting on a ground sheet out in the open, a couple of artillery shells burst in the vicinity of the FDC. They landed close but the thickly wooded area muffled the sound. However, there was no damage. Possibly the enemy gunners fired at random at ’empty guns’ before scooting to another position. During these four days, there was only one fatal casualty at the gun end, in 82 Light Regiment. During a busy firing programme, a mortar exploded due to double feed, killing the detachment commander. In another battle accident, Major B B Behl, Second in Command of 65 Mountain Regiment went over a mine on the morning of 5 December.
After capture of Akhaura, infantry positions were to be reorganized for possible enemy reaction and exploitation beyond Akhaura. I passed instructions to Major Behl to step up his Regiment to the next designated gun area close to the airfield, so as to be within range to support these operations. As he entered the new gun area, his jeep went over a mine. Unknown to us, this was an unmarked minefield laid by Mukti Bahini for security of the airfield. Major Behl suffered serious injuries, resulting in amputation of both legs in the Field Hospital the same night. In war, casualties and battle accidents though unfortunate, occur with amazing frequency. Despite their loss, the Regiment deployed in the new gun area as scheduled and was ready to support the reorganisation and exploitation phases of the attack.
During the battle, my GSO3 Captain Raghavendra Ojha was with my Commander at Divisional Headquarters. From time to time, he conveyed messages of appreciation from my Commander, Divisional Commander, and also from the Corps Commander who visited the Divisional Headquarter frequently. These acted as great morale boosters. We had no functional problems with the staff at the Divisional Headquarters or with any unit. However, my Commander and Brigadier Ted Dartnell, Commander 4 Corps Artillery Brigade had differences over use of CB resources. The only weapon suitable for retaliation was the medium battery because of
its longer reach and heavier shell. This battery was allotted to us (57 Mountain Division). Brigadier Dartnell had the CB staff but no locating devices nor means of retaliation. Yet he wanted to assume the CB function, perhaps to justify participative existence of his Headquarter. He wanted us to earmark one medium troop to be exclusively at his disposal and provide fixations picked up by our Division Location Battery. This suggestion was ridiculous. It made more sense to delegate the responsibility along with the CB staff to us. My Commander told me to ignore these instructions. This was not the only irritant. The GSO1 at Corps Artillery Headquarters would call me on line at odd times, when I was busy executing a fire plan and demand routine reports like ammunition state or some such inconsequential information. Such distractions built up to the level of a nuisance. As the gunners were busy firing and many rounds were being expended every minute, it was impossible to count the rounds fired or remaining. I was able to give him the report only on 5 December after the battle of Akhaura was over.
It was a matter of satisfaction that all units and detachments, even those allotted at the last minute merged with the Brigade and became fully effective in their operational role. To cite an example, the Meteorological Detachments (Met Det) authorised to artillery brigades were invariably non-functional due to shortages of critical items like Met Balloons. Our Met Det was a rare exception. It was able to issue the Met Telegrams by day and night throughout the war. Met Section of Agartala Airport came to our rescue with a generous supply of Met Balloons.
Our CB set up had already perfected the drills and demonstrated its capability of quick retaliation in November. Even with just one medium battery, the enemy artillery was not allowed to cause much damage to our infantry. The battery proved to be an invaluable asset and saved 4 Guards from being overrun by enemy tanks more than once. After the battle, when we took stock of ammunition expenditure, we found this unit had fired the maximum number of rounds per gun. We did not see enemy aircraft except once, on 2 December. After that, the Indian Air Force ruled the skies. Major Menezes and his Krishak pilots flew undaunted, took a number of
The Battle of Jamalpur
Major General Hardev S Kler, MVC, AVSM
7s Commander, 95 Mountain Brigade, I moved my formation A from Nagaland to Tura in Shillong in September 1971. My three infantry battalions were 13 Guards, 1 Maratha Light Infantry (MLI) and 13 Rajputana Rifles (Raj Rif). We came under 101 Communication Zone, commanded by Major General Gurbux Singh Gill, headquartered at Shillong. Plans for the offensive into East Pakistan had been made earlier and these were put into operation as soon as war was declared on 3 December 1971. That night, two of my battalions, I MLI and 13 Raj Rif, infiltrated through enemy lines to Bakshiganj, the first major township across the international border. The battalions infiltrated on either side of the Track Kamalpur-Bakshiganj, which was the inter-battalion boundary. Kamalpur Post was still holding out. I established my tactical headquarter with 1 MLI. By morning, we had encircled the town and begun reconnaissance of enemy defences. Meanwhile General Gill was busy dealing with Kamalpur Post. After subjecting the post to heavy artillery fire and aerial attack, the post commander, Captain Malik agreed to surrender. The surrender was organized for 5 December morning. General Gill ordered me to get back for the surrender and I walked back the night to my headquarters. Next
morning, after completion of the surrender formalities, General Gill wanted to come with me to Bakshiganj, which had fallen by then. I requested him to come later by helicopter after the place was fully secured, but he insisted on moving immediately and so we set out by Jonga. I was driving and he was in the co-driver’s seat. We had travelled a few miles only when the Jonga went over a land mine. There was a mighty explosion and then everything went dark. When I came round, I was lying on the ground some six feet away. I got up, shook my limbs and found that I could walk. I looked for the General and found him lying on the other side of the Jonga. His feet were torn and I could see that the damage done was beyond us. I put him on the follow up vehicle and we went to the medical aid post established by 13 Guards where the medical officer attended to him. We then evacuated him to the military hospital at Guwahati. Major General Gandharv Nagra, who was commanding 2 Infantry Division was moved post haste to take over the command of 101 Communication Zone. My brigade then prepared for the capture of Jamalpur.
31 Baluch Regiment of the Pakistan army defended the Jamalpur garrison. This town was an important communication centre lying astride the Brahmaputra River. A road went North to Bakshiganj, East to Mymensingh and South to Tangail. By 8 December, 1 MLI had crossed the Brahmaputra River and established contact with the Jamalpur Garrison from the South. 13 Guards followed subsequently, with both units being assisted by the local population in the river crossing operation. I MLI established a roadblock behind the enemy lines on the Jamalpur-Dhaka road and 13 Guards cut off the Jamalpur-Mymensingh Road. The escape routes of the enemy now stood effectively blocked.
With two of my battalions across the Brahmaputra River, I decided to establish my tactical headquarter in the 1 MLI area. On 8 December, I first flew by helicopter and landed near the roadblock established by 13 Guards. Heavy firing was taking place nearby, and the ground troops, concerned about my safety, fired verey light flares towards my helicopter, signalling us not to land. We landed nevertheless and the enemy broke the encounter and fled. A Subedar of 13 Guards was briefing me of the action that had just taken place
when a bullet whizzed past me and struck him in the head. The bullet pierced his steel helmet, killing him on the spot. This was tragic, but what jarred was the poor quality of the steel helmets issued to the Indian Army, which resulted in unnecessary loss of life.
I then moved to 1 MLI, where my tactical headquarter had been established. Lieutenant Colonel Kuldeep (Bulbul) Brar, the Commanding Officer of 1 MLI, briefed me about the situation prevailing so far. The enemy was well entrenched in Jamalpur and it was evident that we would need a lot more information regarding enemy deployment before tackling the Jamalpur defences. Ground situation permitting, I ordered aggressive patrolling of the enemy defended localities to gain the desired information. That afternoon, while I was in my tactical headquarter, the Army Commander, Lieutenant General JS Aurora, landed at my Brigade Headquarters. The 101 Communication Zone Commander, Major General Nagra, who had moved forward to my brigade headquarter, received the Army Commander. General Aurora then got through to me on radio and ordered me to attack that night, irrespective of casualties. That indeed was a very tall order and left me aghast.
‘I am behind the enemy lines and assessing the situation’, I told the
Army Commander. ‘I will attack when I am ready.’ The Army Commander then wanted to come forward to my tactical headquarter, but I informed him that in the prevailing battle situation, his moving that close to the front line was fraught with risk and I was not in a position to provide him a secure landing. At the same time, I assured him that I would stick to the D Day schedule worked out by us during the war games held at Tura. I also asked him to allow the para drop to proceed as planned on 11 December. He finally concurred, but I could sense that he was under a lot of pressure. My brigade staff later told me that he left the Brigade Headquarters in a huff.
The next day, 9 December, after conferring with Colonel Brar, we decided to give the Jamalpur Garrison Commander a surrender option. Colonel Brar drafted out a letter on four pages of my writing pad, informing the enemy that we had them surrounded, and they had no hope of escape and their best option was to surrender. The
note also mentioned that we would look after them well, in terms of the Geneva Convention. I signed the letter, and a Mukti Bahini courier, Zohal Haque Munshi, riding on a bicycle and carrying a white flag, delivered the same to the enemy. The Pakistanis responded by nightfall with a note from Lieutenant Colonel Sultan Ahmad who was the Garrison Commander. Sultan facetiously advised us to use our guns and not our pens, so we got ready for battle. The bravado from the Pakistani side was evident as the note came wrapped around a bullet!
Based on my earlier orders, the units had carried out aggressive patrolling and by 10 morning, we had sufficient information to launch an attack later that night. I then issued orders for the attack on Jamalpur to begin at 0200 hours on 11 December. Inter battalion boundaries were laid down and a company of 6 Sikh Light Infantry was also moved to block the western approach from Jamalpur. This unit had recently been allotted to me. During the day, we subjected the enemy to a number of air attacks and as a parting gift, dropped two napalm bombs just before sundown.
That same evening, around 1600 hours, the enemy opened heavy fire on the positions occupied by 1 MLI. The enemy was liberal in firing with 120 mm mortars, which continued for about two hours. It appeared that he was trying to use up all his ammunition, in an apparent bid to soften up our defences. This sudden spurt of firing then led me to re-appreciate the intentions of the enemy. I put my thinking cap on and concluded that the enemy would perhaps attempt to break out that night.
As the sun set at Jamalpur, everything was quiet on the battlefield. In the secluded hut in the village where I was located, it was very peaceful. Call it what you like – a premonition, sixth sense, pure logic or good luck, I cancelled the orders I had given for the attack and instead instructed the Commanding Officers to strengthen their defences and be prepared to fight a defensive battle. I assessed that the enemy would attempt a fighting withdrawal and informed Bulbul Brar that his battalion would bear the maximum brunt of the battle. Since we were on man pack basis, fire control was the top priority. I then called up General Nagra and informed him that I will give him Jamalpur by next morning and asked him to be prepared to land
there at 0700 hours. I also asked him to bring sumptuous breakfast for the troops. Having made all arrangements for a hostile reception to Sultan Ahmad’s troops, I retired for the night.
Just before midnight on 10 December, the enemy sent out a strong patrol, which opened relentless fire, to search and locate our troops occupying blocking positions. I MLI exercised excellent fire discipline and did not return the fire. This gave an impression to the enemy that the Indian troops had withdrawn. Colonel Sultan Ahmad then formed his troops in threes on the road and started marching them down the road away from Jamalpur.
In the night, I awoke to the sound of firing. Then I, along with Captain Balbir Singh, my Intelligence Officer and Tahir, my interpreter took up positions near a medium machine gun (MMG) trench, barely 15 yards from the road. Around lam, in the pitch darkness, we saw a column of troops marching past our position.
‘Are these our troops sir’, Balbir asked? If so, why and where are they going?
“You will soon come to know, I told him. Then we waited in silence.
Credit must be given to the troops of 1MLI for their excellent fire control. Practically the entire enemy battalion was allowed to enter the killing zone. I then tapped the MMG gunner to open fire. When the machine gun spat out its deadly stream of bullets, other weapons opened up also. Amid wails of ‘Hai Allah’ and a barrage of verbal abuses, we saw 10 to 15 enemy soldiers fall to the hail of our bullets. With that, Balbir had got his answer. The whole battlefield came alive and Sultan Ahmad realised that he had been trapped. He tried to reorganize his troops and look for ways to extricate himself, trying one direction after the other, all to no avail. This back and forth action continued until dawn. The fire control by forward observation officers of 56 Mountain Regiment and Heavy Mortar Battery was commendable. Despite the proximity of our troops to the enemy, we suffered no casualties from our friendly fire.
In these areas, dawn comes early in December. There was an early morning fog and the visibility was low. The fog however lifted by six in the morning and I moved out to congratulate Bulbul Brar on his
fine command and control of battle. We noticed that the battlefield was littered with enemy dead, some of them just 5 to 10 yards from our trenches. Special mention must be made of Captain RSV Dafle who displayed great courage in blocking the road, to entrap the enemy troops that came into the killing zone. Major S Nambiar and his company also need special mention here. His company bore the brunt of the enemy attack.
We spotted the jeep of Sultan Ahmad parked with all his kit some 500 yards along the road. I then drove along with Bulbul Brar to the 31 Baluch Regiment Headquarter. There we found Major Fazle Akbar, second in command of the battalion. With him were Lieutenant Zaidi, 8 Junior Commissioned Officers including the battalion Subedar Major and 371 other ranks, all ready to surrender. We took stock of the battlefield where we counted 234 enemy dead, including two officers. There were 23 wounded enemy whom we treated and a further 61 who had been taken prisoners of war. From our side, ten brave soldiers became martyrs to the cause of freedom. One JCO and seven other ranks were wounded in this battle.
General Nagra landed at Jamalpur at seven in the morning. It was a momentous moment when he embraced me and said ‘Harry, you alone could have done this.’ I asked him to accept the surrender of the elements of 31 Baluch gathered there. Major Fazle Akbar and his lot then surrendered to the General. We captured a huge cache of weapons that included one 106mm RCL gun, 4×120 mm mortars, a large number of medium machine guns, 81mm mortars, over 600 small arms and a huge quantity of assorted ammunition.
General Nagra had brought four correspondents who were already covering our operations and one of them pointed to bullet holes in my para jacket. With the battle noise around the previous night, I was not aware that I had such a close shave with death. Three bullets had pierced my jacket, leaving six holes as witness! He jokingly asked me if I was bulletproof. Perhaps that one bullet had not yet been manufactured. Captain Tripathi, our medical officer, attended to the wounded POWs and Flying Officers Sandeep Verma and MM Singh started clearing the casualties back to the hospital
in their MI 4 helicopter. When the roll was taken by 31 Baluch, we discovered that Lieutenant Colonel Sultan Ahmad had abandoned his battalion and escaped along with some 200 men.
We drove into Jamalpur town where jubilant crowds received us. A civic reception was organized by Captain Zainul Abdin, the Mukti Bahini boss. The Bangladesh flag was raised and the congregation sang ‘Amar Shonar Bangla’, a song composed by Rabindranath Tagore, which later became the National Anthem of Bangladesh. The town folks narrated some heart-rending stories of atrocities committed by the Pakistanis. The worst culprits were the razakars, who extorted money and provided girls to the troops. Amongst all this mayhem, the locals had a good word for Lieutenant Zaidi, whom they considered an honest and upright person. A rare tribute indeed.
While driving to the jetty, past 31 Baluch Officers Mess, I observed a small house occupied by young girls attired in salwar kameez. On inquiry, Tahir discovered that they were pleasure girls kept for the officers. We advised them that they were free to leave. They soon changed into saris and dispersed.
Most of the vehicles that had been lined up on the road to transport 31 Baluch troops had been damaged in the shelling. Some that could be recovered were collected and made ready for our further advance. Meanwhile Major Pongse of the engineers got ferry service going to put vehicles and troops across the Brahmaputra River. Work was also started on assembling a Bailey bridge. Airdrop to replenish our ammunition and rations was carried out as planned and all was made ready for the advance to be resumed. Before leaving the area, the London Times correspondent noticed a poster with ‘crush India’, emblazoned on it. He requested General Nagra and me for a photograph in front of that poster. That must have made good copy for his paper.
A Story of Two Messages
Lt Col Keshav S Puntambekar
Gn 1971, my battalion, 1 Maratha Light Infantry (MLI) was I deployed in Nagaland as part of 95 Mountain Brigade. In September, in anticipation of operations in East Pakistan, the brigade moved to Tura in Meghalaya and came under the command of 101 Communication Zone, located at Shillong. Lt Col KS Brar was in command of the battalion. A dynamic personality, he directed the company commanders to launch small raids and ambushes across the International Border to develop a high degree of professional confidence and to inculcate an offensive spirit amongst the troops. I was commanding C Company at that time. We were told to select our own targets, discuss our plans with the CO and on approval, launch operations across the border. Some of these operations were remarkably successful.
By mid-October, we achieved our first major success. A night raid carried out by troops of A Company on Chilmari on the night 16/17 October resulted in 26 enemy soldiers killed and 101 assorted weapons captured. We suffered no casualties. Three weeks later, on the night of 5/6 November, in an ambush laid by my company
on Road Nuni-Barmari, we killed seven enemy soldiers, destroyed a vehicle and captured four weapons. Once again, we had no casualties on our side. Ten days later, we got the enemy again in another ambush on Road Bakshiganj-Kamalpur. This ambush was a battalion action, with two companies laying the ambush, one establishing a roadblock and the fourth infantry company acting as reserve. The enemy walked into the ambush on the night of 14/15 November and suffered heavy casualties. In this action, 112 men of the enemy’s 31 Baluch Regiment were killed, and six troop-carrying vehicles were destroyed. Unfortunately, we lost an officer. Major Vatsa of the Engineer regiment became a martyr to the cause. The last major action before the start of the war took place on the night of 24/25 November when D Company crossed the International Border and sank a boat ferry at Bahadurgarh Ghat.
After a series of successful operations, the battalion had its tail up and was raring to go to war. When war was declared on 3 December 1971, the battalion moved swiftly as per plan and by the early hours of 5 December, had secured Bakshiganj. Brigadier HS Kler, Commander 95 Mountain Brigade then ordered the battalion to resume the advance and reach the area South of Jamalpur. This involved crossing the Brahmaputra River. As we had infiltrated on foot, we used bullock carts to carry our first line scale of ammunition. The animals, being from the hills could not negotiate the water obstacle. Colonel Brar then decided to leave most of the first line ammunition behind under a proper escort, and the battalion carried what it could on man-pack/ porter basis. We arrived at a village called Mollapara in the early hours of 8 December. This village was located south of Jamalpur astride Road Jamalpur-Tangail. At this point, the unit received orders to deliver a hand written note by our Commander, Brigadier Kler to the enemy Garrison Commander at Jamalpur. The problem was how to deliver this note? Fortunately, the Mukti Bahini guide with our battalion, Mr Zohal Haq Munshi volunteered for the task. We obtained a cycle from the village and Munshi left the battalion location by midday on 9 December. The note, hand written on four pages by the Commander on his notepad, read:
To The Comdr, JAMALPUR Garrison,
I am directed to inform you that your garrison has been cut off from all sides do you have no escape route available to you. One Brigade with full complement of artillery has already been built up and another will be striking by the morning. In addition, you have been given a foretaste of a small element of our Air Force with a lot more to come. The situation as far as you are concerned, is hopeless. Your higher commanders have already ditched you.
As a soldier to soldier, I give you an assurance of safety and honourable treatment when you surrender, since that is the only course now left to you. I am quite sure you will not be foolhardy in risking the lives of the men under your command for your personal ego. You may have heard the appeal of our Army Chief and I once again re-iterate that if you wish to be united with your families, the only course open is to surrender. We will arrive at formalities as soon as I get your reply.
It may be pertinent to point out that in case you fall into the hands of Mukti Fauj or their sympathizers, they are most unlikely to spare your lives. Your colleague, Capt. Ahsan Malik wisely surrendered to me at Kamalpur on 4 Dec and he and his men have been well looked after as per Geneva Convention,
I expect your reply before 6.30 PM today, failing which I shall be constrained to deliver the final blow for which purpose 40 sorties of MIG’s have just been allotted to me. In this morning’s action, the prisoner’s captured by us have given your strength and dispositions and are in a position to let you down. They are well looked after.
The treatment I expect to be given to this civil messenger shall be according to a gentlemanly code of honour and no harm should come to him.
An immediate reply is solicited.
9 Dec 71
Signed (Brig H.S. Kler)
Munshi left carrying a white flag. When close to the defences, the frontline troops of the enemy apprehended him and beat him thoroughly. He was about to fall unconscious when a Pakistani officer reached the spot and stopped the merciless thrashing. After carrying out a body search, they recovered the note written by Brigadier Kler to the Garrison Commander. They then took Mr Zohal Haq Munshi to the Garrison Commander.
It was eight in the evening when Munshi returned, carrying a letter from Lt Col Sultan Ahmad, Commanding Officer of 31 Baluch Regiment and Garrison Commander, Jamalpur Garrison. Also enclosed in the envelope was a live 7.62mm rifle bullet. The note read:
JAMALPUR 091735 Dec. Dear Brig,
Hope this finds you in high spirits. Thanks for the letter. We here in JAMALPUR are waiting for the fight to commence. It has not started yet. So let’s not talk and start it.
40 Sorties, I may point out are highly inadequate. Please ask your Government for many more.’
Your remark about your messenger being given proper treatment was superfluous. Shows how you underestimate the hospitality of the PAKISTANI TROOPS. I hope he liked his cup of tea. Give my love to MUKTIE’S. Hoping to find you with a STEN GUN in your hand next time instead of the pen – you seem to have so much mastery over.
I am your most sincerely Lt Col Sultan Ahmad Jamalpur Forces.
The tone and tenor of the letter indicated a strong desire and will to fight to the end. In the actual battle for Jamalpur however, (covered elsewhere in this book), the enemy did not quite exhibit the fighting spirit suggested by the note. When Sultan Ahmad found the noose tightening around his forces, he ordered a withdrawal. It
was too late. In the ensuing battle, the entrapped enemy suffered heavy casualties. The second in command of the garrison then got on the radio and requested to surrender. With that, the battle of Jamalpur ended. Over 200 enemy soldiers were killed and about 400 surrendered in the battle. Lt Col Sultan Ahmad, however managed to escape with about 200 soldiers. The bravado expressed in his note was conspicuously absent when the chips were down and he was the quick to flee the scene of battle, leaving his battalion to its fate.
After the war was over, I traced out the Adjutant of 31 Baluch Regiment, Lieutenant Munir Ahmad Butt in the Prisoner of War camp. I obtained from him the original note written by Brig Kler. This was photographed and the original returned to him for his unit records.
Against all Odds The Battle for Sylhet
Maj Gen lan Cardozo, AVSM, SM
Bhile the war was brewing up in the East, I was pursuing the W Staff College Course at the Defence Services Staff College at Wellington, Coonoor. When war became imminent, the course was cut short and we were asked to leave our families home and join our units. My battalion, the 4th Battalion the 5th Gorkha Rifles (FF), had already moved to its battle station on the border with East Pakistan.
I reported on 4 December, at Palam airport to catch the Air Force courier to Guwahati. The previous evening, on 3 December 1971, the Pakistan Air Force had attacked our airfields in the North and war had begun. After an hour of waiting, we were told that the courier was cancelled as a slow moving transport aircraft full of officers and men of the Indian Army would be a tempting target for Pakistani fighter jets. Four of us immediately caught a taxi and hurried to New Delhi Railway Station and jumped onto the Assam Mail just as it was steaming out of New Delhi railway station.
I reached Dharmanagar, the station closest to the location of my battalion and was met by a JCO of the Battalion who was checking all trains for unit personnel returning to join the unit for the war. He informed me that a hospital train carrying casualties was due at Dharmanagar shortly and that there were a number of officers and men of the unit on the train. When the train arrived, I found three young officer battle casualties. They brought me up to date with what had happened so far. They informed me that the Battalion had already launched two attacks and had suffered two officers killed and three wounded besides many men killed and wounded It was incredible that so much had happened in such a short time, but they also said that the battalion had in the process earned a great name and that despite the large amount of casualties, the Corps Commander, Lieutenant General Sagat Singh had selected the battalion for a heliborne operation which was probably to be launched the next day.
They could not tell me more as the train soon left but the JCO was able to brief me on the operations launched by the Battalion so far.
He told me that the Battalion had launched its first attack at a place called Atgram. Due to the artillery guns being out of range, the Battalion had to launch an attack using only khukris and grenades and that heads had literally rolled. The objective at Atgram was captured at the cost of two young officers and a JCO killed. Impressed by the performance of the Battalion, the Corps Commander tasked the Battalion with the capture of an enemy position at Gazipur which had not been captured by another unit despite two attempts. The battalion captured Gazipur at the cost of its second-in-command who was killed leading a two company attack and three officers wounded. Eight jawans had been killed and fourteen wounded in the attack on Gazipur. Once again khukris were used with devastating effect. Notwithstanding the large number of casualties, the Corps Commander had earmarked the Battalion for the Indian Army’s first heliborne operation for the capture of Sylhet. I realized that I would have to hurry if I was to be in time to take part in the heliborne assault on Sylhet. We drove day and night and
reached Kala Shehr in the early hours of 8 December. The moon was in its last quarter and was sinking into the horizon when I reached the launch pad and by its light I could see the helicopters which were to go in the last wave.
The men who were to be part of this last wave were asleep in the dried up rice fields. Soldiers, the world over, know that they need to sleep whenever they get an opportunity because one never knows as to when the next opportunity for rest will come, if ever. The platoon and section commanders were checking the weapons and equipment and talking in whispers. They were whispering although they knew that the enemy was far away. It however seemed appropriate not to talk too loud.
I noticed a group of three persons standing a little distance away who looked like officers and I approached them.
‘Who are you?’ one of them asked. I answered I was Major lan Cardozo, the second-in-command designate of 4/5 GR.
The person who had spoken came forward and said, ‘I am General Rao. Welcome to the Division. The Battalion has been waiting for you.’
The next person to speak was Brigadier Quinn who said, ‘Bunty Quinn here, Ian. Good to see you.’ He took me aside and brought me up to date with the operational situation. Listening to the Brigade Commander I was amazed at how fast things were moving in 4 Corps and 8 Mountain Division. Apparently, on the night of 6 December, the Corps Commander received information that 202 Pakistan Infantry Brigade was withdrawing from Sylhet. Putting two and two together, General Sagat Singh concluded that General Niazi, the Pakistani general responsible for the defence of East Pakistan had decided to use this brigade for the defence of Dhaka and that Sylhet would, therefore, be lightly held. Hence, the Corps Commander decided to speed up operations for the capture of Sylhet with a heliborne force and that he would do it with 4/5 GR – the battalion that had not failed to deliver.
4/5 GR was recuperating and reorganizing after the battles of Atgram and Gazipur when at 0700 hours of 7 December, the Commanding
Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Arun Harolikar, received a message that his battalion had been selected by the Corps Commander to capture Sylhet in a heliborne attack. The Commanding Officer thought that this was an unreasonable order on account of the large number of casualties that the Battalion had already suffered and said so. His protests however were overruled and he was told that his objectives were the airfield, a rail-road bridge and the broadcasting station; that a helicopter would be landing at his location at 0900 hours for an aerial reconnaisance and that the battalion should be ready for the heliborne assault on Sylhet by 1430 hours.
I was astonished to hear how heliborne operations were conducted in actual war. We were taught just a month earlier, that heliborne operations required weeks of meticulous planning and here we were doing it in a matter of hours and minutes!
While I was being briefed, we could hear the hum of the helicopters of the previous wave returning to base. They landed like giant birds of prey while the men were woken up to get ready to take off. After the rotors had stopped moving, the pilots got down and began to inspect their machines for damage from enemy fire. There were plenty of bullet holes but fortunately there was no damage to the engines or the fuel lines. The pilots who were about to take off were briefed about ground fire and the situation on the ground while the dead and wounded were offloaded from the helicopters that had just returned.
Soon I was on board and the helicopter quivered with the latent power of its powerful engine like an angry dog on leash. While on the way, I thought of the very vulnerable situation we were in. The adjutant of the battalion who had gone in the first wave had received bullets in the nether region whilst sitting in the helicopter and had to be evacuated to Guwahati Military Hospital where he had succumbed to his wounds. The pilot of the helicopter who seemed to be echoing my thoughts crackled over the intercom, ‘Sit on your big packs. It might help to protect you from ground fire.’ We obeyed with alacrity.
Soon the choppers were descending towards Sylhet. As soon as the helicopters landed we jumped into the middle of the battle that was
raging all around us. Artillery shells were throwing up huge mounds of earth, mortar shells crumped around us and machine gun bullets raked the ground and whizzed through the air along with splinters of bamboo. In some places the undergrowth and bamboo clumps had caught fire and acrid smoke was billowing around. It appeared that they were trying to destroy the helicopters on the ground. It was clear that the enemy was in far greater strength than what was told to the battalion. If not, then how and where was the artillery support coming from?
As soon as I had jumped down from the helicopter a group of grinning Johnnies from my old Company – Alpha Company – met me. We had shared difficult and dangerous moments together during the 1965 war. They were as glad to see me as I was glad to see them. Johnnie Gorkha is a cheerful soldier whatever the circumstances and it was good to be with them once again.
The helicopters now took off. Miraculously, none of them was destroyed or seriously damaged. I went looking for the Commanding Officer.
After the second-in-command was killed in the battle of Gazipur, the commanding officer of the Battalion was looking for an officer of reasonable seniority to take over from him in the event of his being killed or seriously wounded. The remaining officers in the Battalion were very junior. Lieutenant Colonel Harolikar and I had never met. He had come to take over 4/5 GR from another battalion. He seemed relieved that I had come. He was busy controlling the battle, talking in Gorkhali to the company commanders and also keeping in touch with the Brigade Headquarters. He had been told that Sylhet was being defended by just a few hundred irregular soldiers. He made it clear to the Brigade Headquarters that the opposition here was much more and that we were facing artillery, mortar and medium machine gun fire.
The two under strength rifle companies that had landed in the first wave had spread out and established a perimeter defence and by the time the next wave had landed the first of a series of counter attacks by the enemy were launched. The Battalion, however, managed to
beat them back and the enemy was seen carrying away their dead and wounded.
More than 24 hours had elapsed since the Battalion had landed at Sylhet and unmindful of the overwhelming strength of the enemy, higher headquarters were pressing for the securing of the bridge and the broadcasting station. So far, the Battalion had managed to secure only the airfield and that too was being strongly contested.
A large mound towards the bridge needed to be secured so that operations to secure the bridge could be undertaken. This mound needed to be captured for two reasons – first, because it overlooked our defences and, second, expansion towards the bridge could not happen if this mound was in enemy hands.
The problem is that we did not have sufficient troops. The heavy casualties that the Battalion had taken at Atgram and Gazipur, particularly in terms of officers and the restricted number of troops that could be lifted, restricted the strength to just 484 All Ranks. The Corps Headquarters information that Pakistan’s 202 Infantry Brigade had left Sylhet and that there were just 200 to 300 irregular troops holding Sylhet was proving to be much off the mark. The strength of the enemy holding Sylhet appeared to be much more substantial than was made out to be. Notwithstanding this, it was important that we captured the mound as early as possible.
Unfortunately, for us, the Pakistanis had come to the same conclusion and sent a rifle company to capture the mound. Fortunately, we managed to reach the mound a few minutes before the Pakistanis and we were able to hit them while they were exposed and on the move. They once again suffered heavy casualties.
It was now 9 December. More than 48 hours had elapsed. The Corps Headquarters had assured us that the link-up by the main body with us would take place within 48 hours but there appeared to be no link-up in sight. Based on this assurance, the Commanding Officer had decided that ammunition took priority over everything else and that we would carry extra ammunition instead of rations and clothing. So, instead of rations and blankets we carried extra grenades and bandoleers of small arms ammunition. For food, we
took two handfuls of shakarpara and for water we would have to make the water in our water bottle last for two days.
After 48 hours of fighting, the supply position was beginning to look serious. We were getting to be low on ammunition and there was virtually no food or water. Foraging parties managed to find some rice and dal in a few of the abandoned huts within the perimeter of our defences but we had to drink water from dirty ponds after straining it through our handkerchiefs.
The Commanding Officer and I went around the rifle companies and found the Gorkha Johnnies sharpening their khukries. Word had gone round that if we ran out of ammunition we would have to resort to our trusted khukries.
On the evening of 10 December, two helicopters arrived in response to our calls for evacuation of our dead and wounded. Somehow, the request for food and ammunition and water seemed to have got lost in the maze of administrative chain in higher headquarters. However, it was a great relief and a morale booster to have the dead and wounded taken away. Later that night, the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), which was covering the war between India and Pakistan, announced, ‘A brigade of Gorkhas has landed at Sylhet.’ The Government of India had allowed British war correspondents to accompany our front line troops going into battle so that India and the world could get first-hand coverage of the war. Fortunately, the war correspondent that had sent in this report must have got mixed up between battalion and brigade.’ A brigade as we all know is three times the size of a battalion. The announcement indicated that our strength at Sylhet was three times what it actually was!
India, Pakistan and the rest of the world depended on the BBC as it was, at that time, the most reputed and reliable news agency in the world. It could, therefore, be reasonably presumed that the Pakistanis would also be listening in.
I felt that this piece of misinformation could be used to our advantage and that we should reorganize our defences in such a way that would project that we were in fact a brigade. The Commanding Officer was of the same opinion as I and so we made some minor
adjustments to convey that we were indeed a brigade. We did this by extending Alpha and Delta companies and sending machine gun nests out on our flanks to convey that we were covering a larger area. We could not do much more because if we spread out too much that would not only weaken our defences but would also allow the enemy to destroy us bit by bit. During the day the Indian Air Force fighter bombers attacked enemy targets and this imposed caution on the enemy.
On the evening of 11 December I received a message that a JCO who had joined the Battalion with me was badly wounded and wanted to talk to me. I hurried to the Regimental Aid Post (RAP) which was dug deep into the ground. There were four badly wounded men there – one of whom was the JCO. He was in a bad way. His stomach had been ripped open and he had lost an eye. He tried to talk but it was difficult to understand what he was trying to say. After a while he lapsed into unconsciousness and I left. He awoke and said, ‘Please stay. I don’t want to go away alone.’ I told him that I would return. After about two hours, I was making my way to the RAP when I heard the Pakistani guns resume their firing. Two rounds landed quite close to me. The next round landed squarely on the RAP. A huge mound of earth was thrown into the air together with the bits and pieces of the bodies of the four jawans and all the medical equipment that kept raining on us with a clatter. The RAP was effectively destroyed. There was now nothing for those who got wounded except the first field dressing that each of us was supposed to carry.
On the night of 12/13 December an enemy patrol had managed to move through the battalion defended area and we felt that maybe we had extended ourselves too much. We felt that the Pakistanis were trying to ascertain as to whether we were a brigade or a battalion and that the report of the patrol might convey that we were in fact a battalion and not a brigade. We decided, therefore, to readjust our defences and Alpha and Delta companies were ordered to fall back to their original positions. Alpha Company was able to break contact and to occupy their original position without a problem but Delta Company was attacked while they were on the move. The Pakistanis attacked with loud cries of ‘Allah o Akbar.’ The
Commanding Officer and I were watching the companies moving back and this was an anxious moment. Delta Company however counter attacked with drawn khukris and equally loud cries of Ayo Gorkhali.’ The enemy apparently had no stomach to face the flashing khukris and pulled back and Delta Company got back without further incident.
On 14 December, All India Radio and the BBC announced that leaflets had been dropped over various sectors urging the Pakistan Army to surrender and that if they didn’t they would have to bear the consequences. Firing by the Pakistanis seemed to have lessened and their patrolling activity seemed to have diminished. On the evening of 15 December one of the forward companies reported that a large number of Pakistani soldiers had appeared from the defended locality waving white flags. The Commanding Officer moved forward to see for himself as to what was going on. An emissary from the Pakistani side came ahead with a message that the Pakistanis wanted to surrender to the Brigade Commander. This confirmed that they thought that we were a brigade! The problem was that there was no brigade commander to take their surrender and we did not want them to know that we were only a battalion.
The Commanding Officer sent a message back that the Brigade Commander had received no orders to accept their surrender and that they should come the next day to the same place and at the same time if they wished to surrender. The Pakistanis went back.
The next day, the huge crowd with white flags reappeared. They had come an hour ahead of time and waited patiently. Our Brigade Commander arrived in a helicopter. He alighted and moved forward. It was now a time of surprises for everyone.
The Pakistanis wanted to know why the Brigadier had come in a helicopter. Was he not the commander of this brigade? The Pakistanis were surprised when they were told that indeed, he was the commander of this brigade but he was located elsewhere. The troops the Pakistanis had faced at Sylhet since 7 December was only a battalion and that too a battalion of reduced strength.
Next was our turn to be surprised. While we knew that we were facing a strong enemy, we were surprised to learn that Pakistan’s
202 Infantry Brigade had not left Sylhet. Not only that, General Niazi had decided to fight at Sylhet rather than at Dhaka and had sent 313 Infantry Brigade as reinforcements for the Battle of Sylhet. In addition, Sylhet had its own garrison troops commanded by a brigadier. Three brigadiers and over 7,000 troops surrendered to our battalion whose strength at the time of surrender was just 452 All Ranks.
The senior-most Brigade Commander now made a strange request. He asked that his troops be allowed to retain their weapons because if they surrendered their weapons then they would not be able to defend themselves against reprisals by the people of the liberated country of Bangladesh. On checking with higher headquarters, it transpired that similar requests had been made in other sectors and these had been acceded to. This is probably the first instance in military history where the troops who had surrendered were allowed to retain their weapons. Formation Commanders of the Pakistan army had to guarantee the conduct of their troops failing which this concession would be withdrawn.
On 17 December while walking through the Pakistani camp I came across a Pakistani truck full of blankets. Our men had come without their blankets to reduce overall weight for the heliborne assault. All that they had was their barsatis (rain capes). Two men slept with one barsati on the ground to protect them from the wet ground and the other on top of both of them to protect them from the cold. This was an unsatisfactory arrangement but that is all that we could do.
There was a Pakistani JCO standing near the back of the truck. I asked him whether these blankets were being issued to his men or were they to be put into a store? On confirming that they were meant to be put into a store, I asked him whether he could take permission to issue them to us on a receipt. The JCO expressed surprised and said, ‘Why have your men not come with their blankets’? I said “Sahib, we had not come here to sleep.’ I then said,’ and if any blankets are left over, I would like you to issue them to my officers.’ The JCO seemed astonished. He said, ‘How is it possible that even your officers do not have blankets?’ I replied, “Sahib, if the jawans do not have blankets, how can the officers have blankets?’ The JCO drew himself up and said, “Janab, if our army had officers like yours
we would not have seen this fateful day.’ Ultimately, we did not take the Pakistani blankets as our big packs containing our blankets had come up from the rear but the incident showed up the difference of the command and leadership ethos between the two armies.
The retention of weapons by the Pakistanis caused a problem with a BSF platoon that had come under our command after the surrender. On 18 December, the platoon commander came up on the radio. He seemed very agitated at the freedom given to the Pakistanis to retain their weapons. He seemed to feel threatened. I decided to go and reassure him and asked the Commanding Officer for permission to visit the BSF platoon. The Commanding Officer was reluctant to let me go forward, but I said that it may result in an incident and it was better that I went and sorted it out. The Commanding Officer reluctantly gave me the required permission. I picked up a boy from the forward company and moved forward.
What I did not know was that I was moving through an unmarked Pakistani minefield. Unlike the Gorkhas who are expert trackers and who can read the ground very well, I stepped on a mine. It exploded and I felt as if I had been hit on the back of my head and fell down. My left leg was in a mess with blood spurting out in different directions. A Bangladeshi local who seemed to know his way in and out of the minefield picked me up and carried me to our forward company. I was put in a jeep and taken to our Regimental Aid Post (RAP). The Commanding Officer and the Regimental Medical Officer (RMO) who had been informed about what had happened were waiting for me. I apologized to the Commanding Officer for being so stupid as to let this happen. He did not say anything but I knew he was upset. I asked the RMO to tie a tourniquet to stop the bleeding and to give me a shot of morphine as the wound was beginning to hurt. He reminded me that all our medical supplies had been destroyed due to Pakistani shelling. We had nothing! I asked him to find some implement to cut off my leg. He left. The Commanding Officer also left to arrange for a helicopter to evacuate me to the nearest Indian Army military hospital.
I was carried to a bunker and laid on a blanket. The leg or what was left of it was looking ugly and it was getting embarrassing to look at . The RMO was taking a long time to come and I was
getting impatient so I asked my batman to use his khukri to cut off the offending leg. He hesitated and said that I should let the RMO do his job. I then asked him to give me my khukri. He handed over my khukri reluctantly. I cut off my leg and asked him to bury it. The RMO returned with a pesky looking knife and saw that I had already solved his problem. He was however not quite happy at the way I had done it. I told him to forget about it and to bandage what was left of my leg.
The Commanding Officer had meanwhile returned to say that no helicopters were available as the choppers were ferrying VIPs to Dhaka. So, the Commanding Officer had a problem on his hands. No helicopter evacuation possible and no medicines to treat my wound.
The Pakistani garrison at Sylhet however had a field hospital functioning in a school building. They too had heard about what had happened and offered to have me treated. The Commanding Officer suggested that I accept the offer.
I refused. I had seen and heard of too many atrocities to trust a Pakistani to operate on me. I requested the Commanding Officer to once again try to get me evacuated by a helicopter. He tried once again and was told that no helicopter was available for casualty evacuation.
The Commanding Officer told me that I needed to get medical attention soon because due to the mine-blast a lot of muck had gone into the leg and if I did not get medical attention soon gangrene would set in. I realized that what he was saying was right and that I should agree.
I told the Commanding Officer that I would agree to being treated at the Pakistani hospital under two conditions. The Commanding Officer now began to get annoyed.
He said, ‘What conditions? You are in no state to lay down any conditions!’
‘All right, sir,’ I said, ‘In that case I have two requests.’
‘What are they?’ he asked.
I said, ‘Sir, I do not want to take Pakistani blood.’
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He said, ‘You are a damn fool.’
I said, “Sir, I prefer to die a damn fool than to live with Pakistani blood.’
The Commanding Officer said, ‘What is your next request?’ I said, ‘Wherever they operate on me, I would like you to be there. I don’t want them to cut off my other leg.’
The Commanding Officer said, ‘Ok’and told the officiating Adjutant to evacuate me to the Pakistani hospital.
The Pakistani doctor – Major Mohammad Bashir – did a good job but I have never been able to thank him or the BBC who by their historic error helped my battalion to turn the tables on an enemy force ten times our size.
Prisoner for a Fortnight
Guardsman Suresh Singh
an 1 December, I along with the rest of the battalion infiltrated
behind the Pakistani army positions at Akhuara. I was in No 3 Platoon of A Company. The area was marshy and movement was slow and difficult. While crossing the Titas River we had to wade through neck deep water. The enemy shelled us in some places with their artillery but my company was fortunate and did not suffer any casualties. The unit however did suffer some casualties in the shelling, losing a few soldiers, while some were wounded. My company reached Kodda by nine in the morning without being detected by the enemy. At this point, the Company Commander, Major Chandrakant Singh deployed my platoon on the railway line between Akhaura and Brahmanbaria at a railway bridge. We started digging trenches for our defences while the company commander moved with the rest of his company to contact the enemy defences at the Kodda railway station.
I was digging my trench when I saw some tanks coming towards us. We thought that these were our tanks, which had earlier got stuck while crossing the Titas River the previous night and were now coming to join us. A wave of happiness and relief swept over us, but this unfortunately proved to be short lived.
Shortly thereafter, I saw a rail engine with two or three bogies attached to it coming towards our position from Kodda Railway Station. The train chugged its way slowly towards us and then stopped near the bridge, splitting our platoon positions into two. I was trying to figure out what was happening when all hell broke loose. The tanks opened fire on our position and at the same time fire rained down upon us from the train bogies. The realisation dawned in an instant that the tanks belonged to the enemy and our position was under attack. We were out in the open and tried to take up defensive positions and return the fire as best we could, but the enemy fire was overwhelming. The initial burst of enemy fire itself killed and injured some of the men in our platoon and while we were trying to stabilise the situation, the enemy infantry troops disgorged themselves from the train bogies and under covering fire from the tanks assaulted our position.
Fierce hand-to-hand fighting then ensued. I saw Naik Ram Kilawan, my section commander pull down a Pakistani officer from an enemy tank after throwing a hand grenade at it. Immediately after that he was hit by a hail of enemy bullets and fell to the ground. He was badly wounded and lying on the ground when the Pakistanis poured diesel on him and set him on fire. Lance Naik Prabhu Ram and Guardsman Giranth Singh were wounded and were taken prisoners. I too had been hit by several bullets and had fallen down, barely retaining consciousness. My clothes were dripped in blood and I did not know the extent of my injuries. That is when I saw the enemy soldiers pointing their weapons at Prabhu Ram and Giranth Singh. In the next instant they opened fire, killing both on the spot.
‘Why are you killing prisoners’, I shouted with the last bit of energy remaining with me. But they ignored me and thinking that I was about to die soon, did not bother to put another bullet inside me. Lying outside my foxhole, I saw Lakpath Singh and Topopo being crushed by enemy tanks and then I lost consciousness. When I awoke, there were enemy soldiers all around me, including some officers. Some of them then picked me up and put me in a truck along with other wounded people. They tied bandages around our wounds but no other treatment was given. For the next week or so, we were moved by truck and boats several times and were hardly
given any food. Finally, after about a week we arrived in Dhaka where we were kept confined for the remainder of the war. A doctor came to see us but nothing much was done. Here too, we were barely given any food. The nights were cold and visiting the toilet was a very painful affair.
Then one day, the doctor came to see us and for the first time our wounds were properly dressed. The cell was cleaned and we were given a proper meal. That evening the doctor came again to see us and asked about our welfare. Once again, we received a proper meal that night. Something strange was happening but I could not make out what it was. It was 15 December, but at that time I did not know the date. I got a strange premonition that the enemy was perhaps going to kill us, and like condemned prisoners, we were being given a good meal before being shot. We had no contact with the outside world and did not know how the war was progressing. That night and next morning too, we heard a lot of firing and shouting in Bengali. Something certainly was up.
It was a few hours later that I heard a voice outside and my heart skipped a beat.
‘Where are my men’? That was the authoritative voice of my commanding officer, Colonel Himmeth Singh. I wondered if my CO too had been taken prisoner, but soon the cell door opened and I saw him striding towards us. The Pakistani doctor was close on his heels, telling him that they had treated us very well but the CO was not paying any heed to him. He hugged each one of us and told us that India had won the war and Pakistan had surrendered. After two weeks as a captive, I was no longer a prisoner of war. I was picked up and put on a stretcher and along with other prisoners who could walk we were taken to the battalion headquarter. Then I was sent by helicopter to Agartala where after two operations I was transferred to Guwahati and then to Delhi where some of my family members came and met me. Several months and many operations later, I started walking again and was given leave to go home. I was very happy to see everyone at home and then re-joined the battalion after sometime.
An Antitank Gunners Story
Hav Mukund Singh Hira
Our three man 106mm recoilless gun (rel gun) detachment
consisted of Guardsmen Upadhya and Chitar Singh and self. I was the detachment commander and we were attached to A Company commanded by Major Chandrakant Singh for operations. Before the war, we had practiced carrying the gun on cycles because we knew that in East Pakistan, we would have to travel cross-country, as the jeeps which carry the antitank guns could not move off the road. The gun alone weighs about 450 kg, so it was difficult to man
pack it.
We crossed the border on the night of 1 December, my detachment and the rol gun riding piggyback on top of a PT 76 tank. The tanks were to link up with A Company. Whilst crossing the border we came under heavy Pakistani artillery fire and one of the tank crew sitting inside told his colleague to close the cupola as they could be hit with shell splinters. I found this odd because my detachment, sitting on the tank, was fully exposed and vulnerable to shelling, while the tank crew was safely ensconced inside. After sometime, while crossing the river, our tank along with many others got stuck
in the mud and we could not proceed further. I felt quite helpless, as there was no way to man handle the gun in the water. We spent the night on the tank and at daybreak were informed that the battalion would find some way to get us across the river. The Pakistani Air Force strafed us four times during the day, but fortunately, none of our tanks were hit. This was the first time that any of us had come under air attack. It is not a pleasant feeling as there was no place to take cover and we did not have the means to fire back at the enemy. We simply awaited the barrage of rocket and gunfire from the aircraft and thanked our lucky stars that they fell harmlessly into the water around us.
On my radio set I came to know that A Company, which had reached its objective was attacked by the enemy with infantry and tanks and felt terrible about not being present with the company to provide them antitank protection. In the afternoon, with the help of the local Mukti Bahini, we dismounted the 106 mm rcl gun from the tank and, hauled it to the location of 18 Rajput. That night, taking a long and difficult route, we managed to take the gun to the battalion headquarter location at Barisal. Our Commanding Officer, Colonel Himmeth Singh was happy to see us and detailed a guide to take us to the location of A Company at Kodda. He told us that we should reach fastest as the company was under attack from enemy tanks.
We managed to reach A coy by around 05:30 am on the morning of 3 December. I reported to Major Chandrakant who showed me two positions where I could position the gun and asked me to find some alternative positions also, which I did. Around this time Captain Z Sahni, who was the platoon commander, joined me. We dug in the gun and got into the foxholes we had made for ourselves. At 11 am, the enemy attacked with two companies and a troop of tanks. The enemy infantry came in through open paddy fields and we ? inflicted heavy casualties on them without much loss on our side. Unfortunately, the handle of the spotter rifle on my antitank gun was hit by enemy machine gun fire and damaged. Major Chandrakant and Captain Sahni tried their hand at repair, even as enemy tanks were firing at us, but to no avail. Major Chandrakant then told me to fire the main tank round in the general direction of enemy tanks
as the spotting rifle was of no use in ensuring accurate fire. When the round was loaded, Captain Sahni accidentally touched the firing lever of the gun and it fired. The back blast of the gun destroyed two huts, but the shell moved with speed to its target, landing very close to the enemy tanks, creating a bright flash and a huge swirl of dust. The enemy tanks now realised that we had an antitank gun and discretion being the better part of valour, they withdrew. We were fortunate that the round landed with reasonable accuracy, as without a spotting rifle, it was not possible to get a first round hit on the tank.
After defeating the enemy attack, we looked for some food. The cooked rations we were carrying had spoiled and we all were hungry. Upadhya, who was a great scrounger, found some rice, dal, condiments and cooking utensils from a villager’s hut. He lit a fire and started cooking ‘khichidi’, a simple meal of dal and rice cooked together. The rest of us started digging an alternate position for our gun. Unfortunately, the enemy spotted the smoke being emitted and soon a shell landed near Upadhya’s improvised kitchen. The Khichidi spilt all over Upadhya, but fortunately, he was none the worse for it. Except for our lunch liberally sprayed over him, he received no injuries whatsoever. Our lunch however was now a mirage.
On 6 December, my antitank detachment moved with A Coy to Arhand, to establish a road block on the Comilla-Brahmanbaria Highway. During the day, we had great fun shooting enemy soldiers and vehicles on the road. That evening Naib Subedar Sheotaj Singh arrived in a jeep bringing a new antitank gun and left with the damaged one. I was given charge of guarding 27 Pakistani prisoners as the battalion moved to a nearby location. We moved the prisoners that night. On 8 December, we moved to Brahmanbaria, crossing the Pagla River with great difficulty. Brahmanbaria had been the enemy divisional headquarter but now was occupied by A Company. After sometime we were joined by our CO, Col Himmeth Singh who had gone on reconnaissance with the Brigade Commander to Bidya Kote. At Brahmanbaria, A Company had captured some enemy vehicles including a fire engine. C Company under Major Marwah, which was at another location, also joined us. The CO then gave us orders
to advance to Ashuganj. Most of A Company was mounted on tanks but my detachment, along with Subedar Makhan Lal were mounted on the fire engine and we advanced very rapidly to Ashuganj and reached there by about three in the evening. B Company under Major Kharbanda was involved in some fighting with the enemy. We suffered some injuries and the Company Commander, Major Kharbanda, was also seriously injured. A Company also met with some opposition but this was cleared without much difficulty by the tanks. At night, after many days we received proper food even though it was cold and we also replenished our ammunition.
On 9 December, we received orders to withdraw to Brahmanbaria. By now, we were used to moving up and down and retracing our steps so we did not question why we were going back. By two in the evening we assembled at Brahmanbaria stadium and there learnt that we were detailed to fly across the Meghna River in helicopters and once again get behind Pakistani defences. Within two hours we were ready for the airborne crossing. We were both excited and a little apprehensive as this was the first time many of us would be flying in helicopters.
At four pm, a platoon of A Company, along with our CO, Colonel Himmeth Singh, and the A Company Commander, Major Chandrakant Singh, took off in the first flight. By the time our turn came, it was dark. It took us about 20 minutes of flying to reach the landing zone, which had been secured by A Company. On landing, we had some difficulty in unloading the gun. When the helicopter left, we realised that Chitar Singh was missing though he was with us during the flight. We searched but could not find him. He joined us two days later. In the confusion of offloading the gun, the helicopter took off carrying him back to Brahmanbaria! In the meantime, Upadhya, went scrounging once again to the village and came back with a bottle, which he claimed to be country liquor. It smelt awful but I took a swig and vomited because it was a mixture of kerosene and some cooking oil. This was again a good lesson not to take anything that does not belong to us.
Code Word ‘Himmetha’
Sub Tirath Singh
Gn 1971, I was the mortar OP (Observation Post) with A Company,
4 Guards. We crossed the border on the night of 1 December, and after crossing the Titas River with great difficulty, reached Kodda village by next morning where we occupied defensive positions. The enemy reacted violently to our occupation of a defended locality and launched an attack with tanks and infantry. No. 3 Platoon was overrun, but the rest of the company held on doggedly, despite very heavy artillery fire from the enemy. We however suffered a large number of casualties.
That night, at about one am, I went around the company defended locality with the Company Commander, Major Chandrakant Singh. The Company Commander spoke to the men in their trenches, motivating them for the battles yet to come and telling them that there was nothing to be afraid of and that every man comes with his own destiny and is fated to be born and to die. Nevertheless, in war if we are fated to die, we must make sure that we kill at least twenty to thirty of the enemy to make sure that we have not died in vain. In this manner, we encouraged the men and kept their morale high.
Next morning, on 3 December, I was surprised to see the enemy
do because they were in the open and we could see them clearly. Either the enemy had a penchant for committing suicide, or they were under a misapprehension that the battle of the previous night had forced us to withdraw because of the casualties suffered.
We held our fire until the enemy was just 75 yards from the forward defensive line. The fire discipline of our troops was unbelievably good, indicating a high state of morale. Then the company commander ordered fire, and instantly, the machine guns came into action with venomous fire and all the riflemen too pitched in. The enemy assault withered in no time with many of their soldiers mowed down in the open. The enemy perhaps did not realise that their opponents were well-trained troops. If they were aware of the fact, then their leadership was incredibly naïve. Within a short span of time, two companies of the enemy had been destroyed, and I could not see a single enemy soldier standing. Then the company commander ordered ceasefire. Some of the enemy soldiers attempted to crawl to safety, and Major Chandrakant engaged himself in taking pot shots at them. I felt I was missing the action and requested him to control the mortar fire and give me the opportunity to engage the enemy. He then took my radio set to direct mortar fire and I took his rifle and started looking for the enemy trying to extricate from the killing area. I shot two men whom I saw moving and was congratulated by the company commander for good shooting. After that, I did not see any movement until the evening. Suddenly, two enemy soldiers got up and started running back. We fired at them, but to their good luck we missed and they managed to escape. By now, Havildar Mukund Singh with his antitank detachment had joined us. So at night, when the Pakistani tanks again tried to assault our position we fired at them and they withdrew. The enemy made no more attempts to attack us, but kept shelling our position and caused us some casualties.
From 4 Dec to 7 December, I kept moving with A Company and saw many actions but as a mortar OP, I did not play any role although we had to march several kilometres every day and we were tired and hungry. On 8 December, A Company captured Brahmanbaria. The
enemy had withdrawn earlier, leaving only a token force behind. They fled on seeing the approach of our troops. The whole battalion then assembled in Brahmanbaria and we resumed our advance to Ashuganj in some civilian transport and tanks. We moved partly cross-country and partly along the road, brushing aside the token resistance from the enemy. By the evening, we were only 4 km from Ashuganj and could see it clearly. The CO then halted the advance as Ashuganj was believed to be well defended and would require artillery and air support for its capture. While our advance was swift, the artillery could not keep pace as the bridge over the Pagla River had been destroyed and the guns could not cross the river. The guns were thus at Brahmanbaria and out of range to support any attack on Ashuganj.
We started digging our defences for the night. The company commander had gone to the battalion headquarters to get orders for next morning’s operations and I was in the A Company headquarters. There were four men from the engineer regiment also with me. At this time the enemy started shelling our position. One shell landed on the trench of the engineers, killing two of them, the impact flinging their bodies which then got caught in the trees. A shell landed near me and a splinter went through my knee. It was extremely painful and I could not walk. Next day, 9 December, stretcherbearers from the unit took me to the battalion headquarters from where I was taken to Brahmanbaria, and thence by helicopter to Agartala.
My war was over. The injury to my leg had made me delirious and the doctors gave me morphine injections to ease the pain. I awoke in a comfortable hospital bed in Agartala. On the bed next to mine was a wounded Pakistani soldier. I bore him no animosity and after some time we got to talking about the war. He was very happy that he had been treated in the same way as our own wounded and the doctors did not discriminate at all. He told me that he had been wounded at Arhant on 6 December and was surprised when he came to know from me that it was my battalion that had ambushed them. He then told me that a secret Indian weapon called ‘Himmetha’ constantly hounded them. ‘Himmetha’, he said, gave them no respite. They could neither eat nor rest because of ‘Himmetha’, and whenever
they took up a new position, ‘Himmetha’ would arrive and blast them out. “What is this secret weapon that you had’, he asked.
I found this rather amusing. Before we moved into operations, it was decided to use code words to maintain secrecy. The code words for the unit and companies were the names of their respective commanders. ‘Paunchy’, was the code for A Company, based on the pet name of the company commander, Major Chandrakant Singh. ‘Himmetha’, was the code word for my battalion 4 Guards, derived from the name of the CO, Colonel Himmeth Singh. It gave me great satisfaction to know that we had effectively hounded the enemy throughout the war and made proud to be a part of ‘Team Himmetha.’
Random Musings
Hony Capt Jai Singh
o was a Naik in the intelligence section of my unit 4 Guards
during the war. While crossing the border on 1 December, the enemy shelled us and we had to halt for some time. On resuming the advance, I crossed a sepoy from 18 Rajput who was from my village. While we were talking to each other, the enemy shelling resumed and my friend, hit by a shrapnel, died in my arms. I was deeply upset looking at him but had to put him down and move with the rest of my battalion. I now knew that it was a fight to the finish and vowed to avenge the death of my friend.
While crossing the River Titas water in some parts was deep and, though I am a tall man, it came up to my neck. We however managed to cross the river safely, the taller men helping the shorter ones to get across, though our clothes and rations all got wet. It was almost daylight now but there was a thick fog, which restricted visibility so the enemy could not see us. By seven in the morning, we reached Barisal. The battalion halted there less A and B companies, as these two companies had to take up positions about three kilometres ahead.
We did not face any opposition at Barisal, which was about seven kilometres behind the enemy’s forward defensive line. I do not think that the enemy was even aware at this stage that we were behind his defences. However, by about 9 am, we heard the sound of firing emanating from the general area where A and B companies had occupied. The fog had lifted by now and the enemy had launched an attack with tanks and infantry on A Company, commanded by Major Chandrakant Singh. To see what was happening at his forward companies, the Commanding Officer (CO), Colonel Himmeth Singh decided to visit A Company and I, as the intelligence section Naik, accompanied him.
Fighting was in progress when we reached there. The CO and the Company Commander got together and discussed the ground station, while at the same time directing machine gun fire on the enemy. The enemy had overrun No 3 Platoon of A Company and the enemy tanks used in that assault were clearly visible to me. These tanks slowly lumbered up to where we were, but stopped a couple of hundred yards short from where we were. Major Chandrakant then told the CO that the enemy attack for the moment had run out of steam and the situation now appeared stable. He expressed confidence of holding on to his position even though they did not have antitank weapons. I accompanied the CO back to the battalion headquarters thereafter.
That evening, I came to know that Subedar Rawat Singh, the Senior JCO of B Company, was wounded. There were other men in the company who were also injured in the fighting but the company was not in a position to immediately evacuate them as the enemy remained in contact and was engaging our forces. Subedar Rawat and I were both from Alwar and I requested my CO that I would like to bring him back to the battalion headquarter for treatment. The CO said it was too dangerous to go to B Company at this time, but on my insistence, he gave me permission to go along with another Guardsman, once darkness had set in.
When it was dark, I went to B Company and found Subedar Rawat Singh lying on a wooden bed in a tin hut that was about 100 yards from the enemy. Though he could barely move, he pointed his
carbine at me, but I called out his name and he recognized me. It was pitch dark inside and I lit a match to see him better but he shouted to extinguish the light as the enemy could spot us and I complied forthwith. In the darkness, I felt and examined his wounds. He had several bullet injuries that I dressed with first field dressings and gave him a morphine injection from my first-aid kit to ease the pain. He then said that he wanted to drink some tea. In a sheltered place that could not be seen by the enemy, I lit the kerosene stove and made some tea but as the sugar and powered milk I was carrying got wet while crossing the river I could only make some black tea. He drank this and thanks to the morphine injection, appeared relaxed. I then carried him on my shoulder to the battalion headquarters which was about three kilometres away. The unit doctor treated him there and later evacuated him to a military hospital. Colonel Himmeth Singh congratulated me for bringing him back. After the war, and many months of treatment later, Subedar Rawat Singh finally returned to the battalion. After retirement, he and I would meet and talk about the old days and he would tell his family how I brought him back that night.
On 8 December, we entered Brahmanbaria after crossing the Pagla River. A Company had captured the enemy divisional headquarter and one of my colleagues found a bag containing Pakistani currency and silver which some Pakistani had probably looted from the local Bengalis. He showed this to me and I told him taking these items was unethical in war, and if the Commanding Officer comes to know of it, he would be very angry. I told him to throw the bag containing the currency and silver into a pond. As soon as he threw the bag, an enemy shell landed in the pond but did not explode. We took this as a sign from the heavens. It was a lesson neither of us ever forgot. Etched in my mind is another incident that took place on 13 December, just outside Dhaka. We were near a place called Demra, on the Eastern bank of the Shitalakshya River. We had deployed an antitank recoilless gun on the bank of the river and the detachment commander was Naib Subedar Sheotaj Singh. A young officer from the Officer Training School, Second Lieutenant Medappa, who had joined the battalion just two months back, was also with the antitank gun detachment. When their position came
under heavy fire from the Pakistanis from the opposite bank, Naib Subedar Sheotaj Singh told the young officer that it was not safe to stay there any longer. They then relocated to another position, abandoning the gun. The Pakistanis used this opportunity to cross the river and position a small detachment there, along with a mortar OP. This OP brought down very effective fire on the battalion and in evicting this OP, the battalion suffered 25 casualties. The CO was very angry at this incident and on the spot initiated disciplinary action against the two. I thought that the real responsibility lay with Naib Subedar Sheotaj Singh as he had 23 years of service and should have known better. The officer was just 20 years old and was inexperienced. He had been in the battalion for only two months and had just six months training at the Officer Training School at Chennai. Nevertheless, the CO had to set an example, so that such incidents never again occur in our battalion. The CO and all the company commanders had set very high standards of frontline leadership and were always in the front, where the action was the hottest. The rest of the battalion followed their lead, which gave to our battalion great success in this war. However, this incident, though isolated, is part of our history too. It happened. It must not happen again.
Section 3 The Paratroopers
1 The Story of the Indian Army’s First Airborne Assault
Lt Gen Nirbhay Sharma, PVSM, UYSM, AVSM, VSM 2 Paradropped into War: The Story of the Tangail Paradrop
Capt Shamsher Singh, VSM 3 The Tangail Landings
Dr Nuran Nabi 4. Behind Enemy Lines
Brig PK Ghosh, VrC 5 Hung Up!
Mahadev Gurao
The Story of the Indian Army’s First Airborne Assault
Lt Gen Nirbhay Sharma, PVSM, UYSM, AVSM, VSM
he 2 Battalion of the Parachute Regiment led by the ebullient
Lieutenant Colonel KS Pannu, MVC, made history for the Indian Army, particularly the Parachute Regiment and 50 Independent Parachute Brigade, in being the first post-war Para Battalion Group to carry out an airborne assault in enemy territory. The operation, which took place on 11 December 1971 at Tangail in Bangladesh and the subsequent achievements of 2 Parachute Battalion Group are now legendary and burnt into the pages of history. For the first time since Independence, the 50 Independent Parachute Brigade was used in an airborne assault role. The 2 Para Battalion group included 49 Para Field Battery of 17 Para Field Regiment, 411 Para Field Company and other components of the arms and services. Already recorded as a ‘Lightning Campaign’in Indian military history, it requires no further elaboration. I was then
a young Captain in 2 Para Battalion. It is also a happy coincidence that on an invitation from the Government of Bangladesh, I along with Colonel (then 2 Lt) Surjeet Singh, VrC was fortunate to revisit our battlefield exactly 41 years later in December 2012.
In January 1971, 50 Independent Parachute Brigade was deployed in West Bengal to conduct anti-Naxal operations. During that period, the Para Brigade’s Headquarters were at Howrah and the battalions were operating in the region of Hoogli, Asansol and the other areas surrounding Calcutta (now Kolkata). 2 Para was part of the 50 Independent Para Brigade and, during the year, it moved eleven times to various places within the state. It was finally located in the Botanical Gardens of Calcutta by November when war with Pakistan was imminent. The battalion had received warnings for an airborne operation and prepared for the likely mission while at the Botanical Gardens. Preparations included making various types of loads for airborne drops and drills by personnel for landing and rally thereafter. Secrecy requirements made us seal the area, much to the chagrin of the officials of the Botanical Gardens, who were not privy to our intent and were inconvenienced to quite an extent. I remember that Dr Moitra, the Director of the Gardens, was quite upset and took up the matter with the higher authorities. Quite obviously, nothing came out of his complaint!
On the night of 9 December, we quietly moved out of the Botanical Gardens in vehicles to our designated mounting areas. Such was the level of secrecy that none suspected the heavy movement of assorted vehicles out of the garden. Dr Moitra would no doubt have heaved a sigh of relief the next morning. However, after the war was over, Dr Moitra wrote to us apologizing for his behaviour and expressed pride in being associated with us. We reciprocated the gesture.
The major part of the battalion headed towards Kalaikunda, at a distance of about 101 miles, which was the mounting base for our personnel drop. The remaining components of supply and heavy drop loads were sent to Dum Dum Airport (now called Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose Airport, Kolkata). In all, the Indian Air force had amassed 50 transport aircraft for this operation. Of these, 22 were Dakotas, lined up at Kalaikunda airfield for the personnel drop. The rest were at Dum Dum Airport (which had since been
closed for civil traffic) for heavy and supply drops. The Battalion Group comprised of approximately 1,000 personnel. Besides this, AN-12 aircraft dropped about 103 tons of ammunition and stores.
As a point of interest, one should highlight the loads each individual carried. Besides digging tools, personal arms and the first line scale of ammunition, every man carried two grenades, a blanket or a ground sheet, a water cape, a pair of trousers, a pair of socks and four days’ worth of cooked rations. Each soldier also carried half a belt of medium machine gun ammunition or an anti-tank rocket or 2’ mortar ammunition since soldiers armed with these weapons could not have carried the entire ammunition by themselves. This ammunition was immediately required on landing, which made it essential that it be carried by the soldiers themselves rather than be dropped as door loads or supply drop loads. The weight carried by each soldier was thus in excess of 60 lbs. This excluded the weight of personal weapons, parachute and the weight of PAE bags for those who jumped with them.
With both the mounting bases sealed, we received our final orders on 10 December. The 2 Para Battalion Group was to launch an airborne assault to capture Poongli Bridge and the adjacent ferry on the river Loha Jung near Tangail approximately 70 miles NorthWest of Dhaka. The aim was to defeat the enemy forces withdrawing from Jamalpur and Mymensingh towards Tangail. It was bright and sunny and we spent the whole day in finetuning the operational plan and making last minute preparations. A NDA course mate of mine, posted at the airbase, invited some of my colleagues and me to his house in the evening to have a drink and let our hair down. After all, it was the last evening before we went to war.
The Battalion group took off from Dum Dum and Kalaikunda Airfields on 11 December 1971 at 1423 hours preceded by the pathfinders who took off twenty minutes earlier from Dum Dum. Using two C 119 transport aircraft, the pathfinders were dropped at 1540 hours on the planned DZ. This drop was widespread, up to a distance of 2.5 miles. After a quick rendezvous (RV), the pathfinders marked the DZ and were ready to receive the main drop by four in the evening. This followed with precision and within 50 minutes, the Battalion Group had assembled and was ready for action.
An interesting incident occurred when the pathfinders were dropped. The DZ was in an area surrounded by villages. At the commencement of the drop, civilians ran in panic, trying to get away from the area. One of the NCOs in this group, shouted “Joi Bangla’ and a couple of other soldiers nearby repeated the chant. A remarkable transformation then took place. Those civilians, who a moment earlier had been running away for all they were worth, ran back to the DZ. That one call of Joi Bangla’ gained for the airborne group a thousand helping hands, eager to carry loads, act as guides or fetch water. Their presence later became a hindrance as they would not leave, even when actual fighting commenced! The battalion assembled and moved quickly towards the Poongli Bridge. A Pakistani Brigade was retreating from Jamalpur and it was important for us to get control of this bridge before the Pakistani Brigade reached there to cut off its route of withdrawal. We captured the bridge, hurriedly dug in and awaited the arrival of the Pakistani Brigade. The brigade reached by midnight and was taken by surprise. In the ensuing battle, they suffered heavy casualties and the entire Pakistani Brigade disintegrated. Our 101 Area forces close on the heels of the enemy brigade, linked up with us next evening. Thereafter, we regrouped and concentrated at Tangail by 13-14 December.
During this part of the battle, two incidents remain etched in my mind, which indicate the strong bonding between the Army and the Air Force. On 11 December, after all the personnel of the battalion group had boarded their respective aircraft, I, as the Adjutant, was moving from one aircraft to the other to physically check the flight manifests and the composite loads of each aircraft. Though December, the weather was hot and humid and by the time I finished with the checks, I was very thirsty. I was wearing my combat load along with my parachute, together easily a load of around 70 lbs. I did not want to drink water from my water bottle, as it was the only source of water with me, and looked for some help. Far away, at the other end of the runway, I noticed an Air Force Sergeant standing inside the hanger and I called him. The man came running and asked me what he could do. I told him that I wanted some water to drink. The aircraft were starting up, so he ran back to the
hanger and within a matter of minutes came back with a jug of water that had lots of ice in it. Before boarding my aircraft, I drank the water straight from the jug and poured the rest on my body to cool myself. As I thanked him, the Sergeant saluted me smartly and said that this was the least that he could do to help a soldier going into battle. This spontaneous display of camaraderie touched me and is still a vivid memory. In the same spirit, while airborne, an Air Force Flight Lieutenant was in my aircraft as a dispatcher. As the exit doors were about to open, he walked up to me, pulled out a bundle of Pakistani currency and pushed it in my pocket saying, “I don’t need it. You are going into the enemy territory and may need it.’ Here again I experienced camaraderie at its best in combat.
After 13 December, the battle progressed, but the Indian Army met with increasingly stiff resistance on their way to Dhaka. On 14-15 December, we were asked to move on an alternate axis and once again took the enemy by surprise by knocking at the doors of Dhaka at Mirpur by the midnight of 15-16 December.
On the morning of 16 December, GOC 101 Area, Major General GSE Nagra landed at the battalion headquarters and informed us that the Pakistan Army had agreed to surrender and we were to take a message for Lt General AAK Niazi. Our last encounter with the enemy had o just got over, and we too had suffered casualties. The enemy was deployed on the other side of Mirpur Bridge and infrequent exchange of fire was going on. Still, I along with the ADC to the GOC, Captain Hitesh Mehta, got into a jeep with a hand written message from General Nagra for General Niazi. It read:
My dear Abdullah, the game is up, I suggest you give yourself up to me and I will take care of you.
As we moved, Major JS Sethi, the forward locality Company Commander, jumped into the jeep and so did Lieutenant Tejender Singh, the young Engineer Platoon Commander of 411 Para Field Company. Oblivious to the impending danger, all of us were excited at the thought of moving into Dhaka with the message of surrender and thus making history!
Little did we know at that time that the Pakistan Army on the other side had not received instructions to surrender. They opened fire on
us as we crossed the bridge. We stopped and shouted across to tell them to stop firing. The firing stopped, but they surrounded us and then we were disarmed. It was a very tricky situation. Realizing the criticality, I engaged the Pakistani JCO in-charge in a bid to gain time. I told him to call a senior officer and threatened him with dire consequence if any harm came to us because the Indian Army had surrounded Dhaka and their General had agreed to surrender. Luckily, a Captain arrived on the scene and we explained the entire situation to him. He then took us to the Commandant of the Garrison, who took the letter from us and asked us to wait. An hour later, Major General Jamshed, GOC of the Dhaka Garrison, arrived and we took him with us in our jeep to our defences across the Mirpur Bridge. General Jamshed, dressed in khaki, was seated between Major Sethi and me. There was another Pakistani jeep behind us. As we approached the bridge, we were fired upon again, neither side knowing who we were! In the firing, Major Sethi received a MMG burst on his left leg. Another bullet hit the helmet of Lieutenant Tejender Singh right in the middle, and was deflected inside, just grazed past his hair and came out from the other side. He still preserves that helmet. The situation was restored thereafter and we reached the bridge. General Nagra arrived shortly thereafter along with the Commander of the Airborne Group and was received by General Jamshed. Shortly thereafter, at 1042 hours, the airborne group, mounted atop its ad-hoc transport, were the first troops of the Indian Army to enter Dhaka!
Major Sethi was evacuated to the Military Hospital at Dhaka where he was operated upon by a Pakistani surgeon on 16 December itself! His leg unfortunately had to be amputated. It was indeed a strange situation, Pakistani surgeons operating on Major Sethi, while the formal surrender had not taken place. In another unfortunate incident that same evening, in a similar incident on another axis, Captain Hitesh Mehta was unfortunately killed in accidental firing. Such are the vagaries of war.
A rare feat of hang up survival also took place in these operations. Paratrooper Mahadev Gurao, while jumping out of the aircraft was left hanging in the air because his parachute did not open. He remained in a suspended state for more than thirty minutes with his body hitting the tail of the aircraft intermittently. His story is told
elsewhere in this book. Another first to the credit of 2 Para is the para jumping of the battalion’s religious teacher (Panditji) along with the battalion. He is the first and only religious teacher in postindependence Indian Army to have parachuted in war.
Reflecting on the war, some thoughts come to mind. There is no doubt that a most favourable situation obtained for an airborne assault in Area Tangail and the Indian Army exploited it fully. The impact of this operation was unbelievable. It broke the morale of the Pakistani troops and set them on the run. In no small measure, it owes its success to the people of Bangladesh, who supported the Indian Army in full measure and provided invaluable intelligence. A mention also needs to be made of the Mukti Bahini.
The local Mukti Bahini leader, Abdul Quader Siddiqui, aka Tiger Siddiqui, affectionately referred to by his men as ‘Commander’, was a young 26 year old scruffy looking, bearded ex-student of Dhaka University. Captain PK Ghosh (he earned a VrC for his daring act) of the Para Brigade had been pre-inducted into Tangail to contact Siddiqui and his forces with a view to coordinating their efforts in helping the airborne group complete its task. Tiger Siddiqui enthused his comrades and led them intelligently and effectively in a multitude of sabotage jobs, blowing up bridges and harassing the Pakistani 9 troops. Most of these Mukti Bahini personnel were those who had suffered at the hands of the Pakistani troops and Razakars. Siddiqui had a very well-developed sense of duty, dedication and honesty. His method of administering justice, though crude, was effective and impartial. There is no refuting the fact that this young man led his forces with a strong but kind hand and was responsible for the early return of order and administration to the strife-torn district of Tangail. His elements were a force multiplier to us all the way.
From the Indian side, meticulous planning, brilliant execution and good administrative backup also played an important part in the success of the airborne operation. Credit goes to the Commander, 50 Independent Parachute Brigade and to his detailed planning and foresight. The enthusiasm with which he worked during the preparatory stages infused in every man in the airborne force the need to put in his best. It will not be indiscreet to point out however, that the success of this airborne operation was also due to another
fact — the broken morale of the Pakistani troops who were already on the run. This, along with the friendly local population, was the reason why the airborne force could exist within enemy territory even though surrounded on all sides. The main force of this airborne group was 2 Para whose motivation was the age-old tradition of preserving the battalions ‘Izzat’ (honour). This enthused every individual and got him to jump into the unknown unquestioningly. Contagious as this feeling was, the whole airborne group flew in on its own wings of high morale. The battalion covered itself with glory. Apart from the ‘Battle Honour’, 2 Para won many gallantry awards to include one MVC, six VrCs and four SMs. The Battalion also had the unique distinction of giving the Guard of Honour at the Dhaka Race Course on the evening of 16 December during the surrender ceremony. Later, on 26 January 1972, the battalion participated in the Republic Day Parade fully clad in combat dress including the parachutes. The standing ovation received by us throughout the parade is still one of the proudest moments of my life.
Paradropped into War The Story of the Tangail Paradrop
Capt Shamsher Singh, VSM
‘ello young man, what are you doing here?’ Colonel Pannu I asked me when I reported to him.
‘Sir, I am under your command since yesterday,’ I replied.
‘I didn’t know, but welcome to 2 Para, my boy,’ said Colonel Pannu.
This unbelievable conversation took place on the morning of 12 December 1971 at the Poongli Bridge near Tangail where 2 Para Battalion Group had been dropped a day earlier, on the evening of 11 December, in the biggest airborne operation since India’s independence. Fortuitous circumstances literally parachuted me into the war and enabled me to witness history in the making, as part of a force that gave India its greatest military victory in the millennia.
I was posted to Headquarter 50 Independent Parachute Brigade as GSO3 (Air) in September 1971. I was keen to take part in operations
and had told my friend Major MM Kapoor, who was a company commander in 2 Para, to keep a place for me for jumping in the forthcoming airborne operation in East Pakistan. Strange are the ways of fate. As a staff officer, I was not a part of the airborne operation, but as I was keen to go, I made a request on 10 December to my Commander, Brigadier Mathew Thomas, to join 2 Para in the forthcoming para drop. The drop was to take place the next day. The Commander said that he would consider my request and shortly thereafter sent word through Brigade Major (BM), that I could go. My joy knew no bounds. Destiny had brought me to join 2 Para at the last moment. Colonel KS Pannu, the Commanding Officer of 2 Para had by then moved to Kalaikunda airfield, to prepare for the drop that was to take place the next day, which was the reason why I could report my arrival to him only after landing in enemy territory.
But let me get back to the beginning of those astonishing events. The Brigade Headquarter had moved to Kolkata on internal security duties and all of us were lodged in tents on the grounds of the Howrah Jute Mills. By the time I reported for duty, the internal security commitment had been taken off from the brigade, and we were placed as operational reserve under Eastern Command. My immediate superior was Major JCM Rao, GSO2 (Air). At this time, the political situation was extremely chaotic in East Pakistan. Repression by the Pakistan military had sent millions of hapless refugees into India. A Bangladesh government in exile had been created with an army called Mukti Bahini. This consisted in part of Bengalis who were earlier in the Pakistan armed forces and of civilians, fighting Pakistani oppression. The Brigade was tasked to organize a training camp for the guerrillas of Mukti Bahini. G (Air) was entrusted with staff work and the camp was run by 8 Para.
From November onwards, the Brigade Commander and GSO 2 (Air) began war games at Headquarter Eastern Command for airborne operations by a battalion group in East Pakistan. The war games envisaged dropping of a battalion group to capture Kurmitola airfield near Dhaka and then air transportation of the rest of the 50 Independent Parachute Brigade or dropping of a battalion group at Tangail to facilitate advance to Dhaka. My job was to verify the correctness of the staff tables. I knew that war was imminent, but
before launching the airborne operation, we as the G (Air) staff were responsible for organising para training in liaison with the Para Holding Wing, Agra. Lot of personnel of 2 Para were not familiar with jumping from a Dakota aircraft and we sent them for refresher courses. We also liaised with ADR&DE, for foolproof preparations of heavy dropping platforms for the transport vehicles and artillery guns. For that purpose, at our request, they positioned a team led by Colonel R Sood, with the Ordnance Field Park. As time was of paramount importance, Brigadier Mathew Thomas directed me to personally pursue the requirements by telephone with all concerned. This proved to be a problem as routing of calls from Kolkata to Agra was through the civil telephone network and we had to wait for hours after booking a call for it to materialise. At times, the calls did not materialise at all, leading to great frustration. I then liaised with the local civil exchange and the operator there advised me to book calls on “lightning priority.’ I heeded that advice and from then onwards, I could contact Agra instantaneously, greatly facilitating my work. I am not sure though, who paid the bill for all those lightning calls! After all, we were at war.
By the middle of November 71, we wound up the Mukti Bahini training camp on orders from higher headquarters. 2 Para was earmarked for airborne operations and preparations began in earnest. The G (Air) staff oversaw the equipment/drills of the pathfinders, the rendezvous (RV) drills, preparation of heavy/supply loads and flight manifests, functioning of equipment etc. Reports in the newspapers started appearing of Mukti Bahini attacks on the border outposts, many of which were overrun with the help of Indian artillery. Reports also suggested large-scale infiltration of guerrillas into East Pakistan. From the brigade, a signals officer, Captain Ghosh was infiltrated to set up a link with Kader Siddiqui, the commander of Mukti Bahini guerrillas in the Tangail sector with the objective to prepare the ground to receive an airborne operation in his sector. The exact location of the DZ was however secret.
War broke out on 3 December and the Brigade less 2 Para moved to join 9 Infantry Division which had already crossed the frontier with East Pakistan and was advancing towards Jessore. The G (Air) staff was left behind in the Jute Mills to co-ordinate the airborne
operation. I was upset that while my brigade was fighting the war, I had to spend my time in the rear. Unknown to me, the move of 50 Independent Parachute Brigade to Jessore Sector was only a strategic feint to deceive the Pakistani Army. On 10 December, it returned to Kolkata, ostensibly to be airlifted to the Western Front on 12 December. The aim was to give a message to the enemy that no further airborne operations were in hand in East Pakistan. That was the time I put in my request to the Commander to allow me to join 2 Para. I was thrilled when approval was accorded. I could finally taste war.
2 Para had already moved to mounting airfields on the night of 10 December. The larger part of the battalion was scheduled to take off from Kalaikunda airfield on 11 December in Dakotas. The rest of the battalion along with the heavy loads were to take off from the Dum Dum airport in Calcutta in Packets and AN-12s. At about ten in the morning on 11 December, I joined D company 2 Para, commanded by Major MM Kapoor. He entered my name in the flight manifest and gave me a small briefing about the DZ layout. After the RV, I was to simply follow him as company second in command.
There was hectic air activity at the Dum Dum airport that day. The Packets and the AN-12s had begun to arrive and parked in their parking bays. Besides there were the fighter squadrons, operating bombing sorties over East Pakistan. The IAF had already achieved air superiority within the first two days of the war. Our own armada consisted of a total of 54 aircraft including the Caribou, Dakota, Packet and AN-12s accompanied by a fighter cover. Originally, the plan was for a drop just at the fall of the night. However, as the Indian Air Force had achieved complete air mastery, the timing of the drop was advanced by two hours, from 1830 hours to 1630 hours, to take advantage of good flying conditions for such a large air formation.
At about 1130 hours we marched towards our aircraft where the Air Force PJIS (Para Jumping Instructors) had laid out the parachutes. We donned the parachutes and adjusted the equipment. At about 1200 hours, 2 Caribou aircraft took off carrying dummy paratroopers that were to be dropped about 50 km away to deceive
the enemy about the real DZ. Then at 1330 hours 2 Packets carrying two pathfinder teams took off, one commanded by Captain TO Bhardwaj and the other as replacement in case the first aircraft developed trouble. Their task was to make the DZ ready to receive the main landings.
Around 1430 hours the main take off began at the Kolkata airfield. First to take off were the AN 12s which were faster and carrying supplies. Then it was the turn of Packets carrying the heavy dropping loads and the last were the Packets carrying the paratroopers. After that were the Dakotas, that took off from Kalaikunda. The Air Task Force was commanded by Group Commander Gurdip Singh. The flight time to Tangail was about an hour and a half. As I had joined 2 Para at the last moment, I was listed 22 in the starboard stick. We were heavily loaded, but I did manage to look outside the portholes at the ground and the flight formation. We were waves of three aircraft. Being in the centre aircraft, I could see the other two aircraft on the port and starboard. Then it was time for the drop, the red light came on and the PJIs began to shout orders for us to get ready.
Doors opened. At the green light and the shrill sound of the bell, the despatch began. The movement was so fast and I, being in the end, had almost to run and jump out.
The first blast of the wind and boom hit me. My parachute had opened perfectly and I was floating down. After releasing the weapon container, I looked around. The sky was full of parachutes and the aircraft were flying wave after wave, dropping the paratroopers. Scenes of D-Day drop in the film ‘The Longest Day’ briefly came to mind, replaced almost instantly by the realisation that this was war and not cinema. I adjusted the harness and looked down to observe any hostile activity. The wind was carrying me towards a village and I could see a few old people coming out of the houses to see the drifting parachutes. I landed in a corner of the village and after releasing the harness, took out my weapon and took position. Seeing that there was no danger, I collected the equipment and stood up.
When I looked around, I saw the parachutes but no movement. Where were the other 43, who had jumped with me? Had they
disappeared? I shouted ‘Stand up’ and suddenly I saw them all coming alive. I then ordered them to move to our company RV light blinking in the distance. The pathfinders commanded by Captain TC Bhardwaj had marked the DZ very well. When we reached there, the paratroopers were filing in from all directions. It was like a big get together. The Dakotas were still flying and the sky was full of parachutes.
Many locals, some of them belonging to the Mukti Bahini, had come and were cheering and some were distributing water and oranges. They said that their Commander, Brigadier Kader Siddiqui had sent them to help and guide us. Night was fast approaching. A Mukti Bahini guide joined our company and we began to move to our assigned locations. C and D companies had been assigned the task to capture the ferry on the Poongli River. We launched an assault, but there were no defenders there and all the trenches were empty. Our company was to occupy the left flank. It took about half an hour to reach our location. Major MM Kapoor deployed the company and we began to dig. It was a moonlit night and we could see all around, We had been in our location for about two hours when ‘stand to’ was ordered. Our patrols had provided information of an enemy vehicular column coming our way down the road to Tangail. The vehicles had their full headlights on, obviously unaware of our ambush ahead. At around 2030 hours, firing began towards our right. The first vehicle went up in flames, hit by a rocket. The battlefield got lighted up and machine guns were now firing. The following vehicles of the enemy ground to a halt and our artillery opened up. All around me the battle raged, with shells lobbed into and all around the convoy. More vehicles had caught fire. We could hear the enemy regrouping, orders being shouted to charge into our positions and break the stranglehold. Close quarter battle ensued with lot of shouting amidst the deafening sounds of gunfire. Then, about two hours later, the noise lessened and soon it was quiet once again. We received orders to stand down. We restarted to dig and improve our positions. It was also time to take a short nap.
In the morning, we became aware that about a battalion strength of the enemy had run into my company ambush. When I saw
the burnt vehicles with charred bodies, it was easy to count the casualties. Over 160 enemy soldiers had been killed and about 30 made prisoners. I then heard the sound of a helicopter approaching, which landed in our defensive area shortly thereafter. I later learnt that the GOC 101 Communication Zone, Major General Nagra and the linking brigade commander, Brigadier Kler had come to meet the CO, Colonel Pannu and to be with the troops. They also brought our lunch and dinner! It was wonderful to know that the linking troops were not too far away.
After the helicopters had departed, I took time to visit the battalion headquarters and report my arrival to the Commanding Officer, Colonel KS Pannu. He was surprised to see me and uttered those famous words ‘Hello young man, what are you doing here’. He welcomed me warmly with a mug of tea and breakfast. I met the adjutant Major Nirbhay Sharma. I also met the engineer officer, Lieutenant Tejinder Singh who showed me his helmet with a bullet hole, the bullet having just scraped the hair above the ear. Our casualties, I learnt were three killed and one wounded in the night battle.
Around 1130 hours we spotted movement of a large group of enemy in the tall grass in front of our company position. The information had already been relayed to the battalion headquarters by the patrols. Air strikes on the target took care of that problem, ably guided by Captain Thangkima, the air liaison officer, who came over to our company for the purpose. Two MiG-19 fighters appeared in the sky, dived and strafed the ground with their heavy machine guns one after the other. Never had I heard such a deafening noise. The line of bullets making their impact on the ground was clearly visible. Just as they had suddenly appeared, the MiGs disappeared from sight. We saw no enemy movement in front of our positions after that.
That morning, the locals informed us that the civilian administration at Tangail had left the place. Col Pannu then sent a detachment to occupy the district headquarters. At around 1700 hours, vehicles of 1 Maratha Light Infantry of 95 Infantry Brigade linked up with us. The link up had taken place exactly 24 hours after the para drop. A great feat indeed.
The next day, 13 December, we moved to Tangail and occupied the District Headquarters, to rest, clean weapons and ready ourselves for further operations. In the meanwhile, 95 Infantry Brigade had advanced and made contact with the defences of the Pakistan Army before Dhaka. On 15 December we were ordered to move along the Mirzapur-Jaydebpur track. En route, we were diverted to occupy Mirpur Bridge on the Manikganj-Dhaka road. Around 0200 on 16 December, we came under enemy shelling as we neared the bridge. Luckily, the shelling was not too accurate and we could hear the shells whistling past us. The bridge was strongly held, but we attacked resolutely. The Pakistanis fled, leaving behind three dead and two wounded on the far bank.
On 16 morning, it was my company’s turn to lead the advance. We advanced along the road and as we crossed the bridge where skirmishes had taken place, we spotted movement in the Pakistani defences. We saw a black flag car, over which a white flag fluttered. I could not believe that the war was over and that the enemy was surrendering. On the outskirts of Dhaka, standing atop the high ground that was the last line of defence of the Pakistani Army, we received orders for cease-fire.
At about 1000 hours we embarked in our transport consisting of a few jeeps and buses requisitioned by the Mukti Bahini and moved into Dhaka. Driving across the Pakistani defences, some Baluch Regiment soldiers came out of their trenches and raised their weapons in a final show of defiance, but no untoward incident took place. We entered Dhaka and drove past hotel Intercontinental where white flags of the United Nations proclaiming the hotel to be a ‘No Combat Zone’ fluttered merrily in the wind. All around us were soldiers of the Pakistan Army with their weapons, dressed smartly in clean and ironed uniforms. After many days in the field, we looked like a rough and scruffy lot. The Pakistani military police guided our convoy to Dhaka Cantonment where we occupied the vacated barracks. That same evening, the leading elements of IV Corps entered Dhaka and the capital was placed under the command of Lieutenant General Sagat Singh, another paratrooper.
A new nation had been born and we had the honour to enter first in the liberated capital. The Surrender Ceremony took place at around
1600 hours. General AAK Niazi of the Pakistani Army signed on the dotted line, the instrument of unconditional surrender. He handed over his pistol to General Jagjit Singh Aurora, the victorious commander of India’s Eastern Army. One company of 2 Para provided the Guard of Honour. The surrender meant that the whole Pakistani Army and the civilian administration totalling about 93000 persons became our prisoners. This was the biggest surrender in history after World War II.
On 18 December, 2 Para moved back to Tangail. Next day, I took the wounded Pakistani prisoners, whom we had left behind in Tangail district jail to Dhaka Military Hospital. I remember having stopped for a short while at a crossing point in Dhaka when a wounded Pakistani officer in my truck recognised his cousin brother walking. He requested me to permit him to meet his brother, which I accepted. It was a very touching moment because each had thought that the other had died. On 19 December, I was able to go to Mymensingh, from where I sent a telegram to my parents, informing them that I was well. Soon thereafter, we moved to the Western Front, where I re-joined the Brigade Headquarter. My war was over.
The Tangail Landings
Dr Nuran Nabi
a travelled to Tura, in Meghalaya, three times during the war as
a representative of the Tangail Mukti Bahini to bring arms and ammunitions. Brigadier Sant Singh was my contact and host. He arranged my meetings with General Gill and Brigadier Kler during my first and second visit in June and July, respectively. During my third visit, I had the honour to meet Lieutenant General JS Aurora, the General Officer Commanding in Chief of the Eastern Command of the Indian Army, at the office of General Gill in Tura on November 7.
In the meeting, General Aurora indicated that Indian paratroops could be dropped in Tangail by the end of November or early December. He asked me to return to Tangail as soon as possible and make arrangements to secure an area so that Indian paratroops could land safely. He also disclosed that several officers of the Indian Army would come to the liberated zones in Tangail and stay with us. We would be responsible for their security.
At the end of the meeting, General Aurora cautioned me about the importance and secrecy of our discussions. He warned me that under no circumstance, should I share this information with anyone
other than Kader Siddiqui. He further mentioned that I was the first Bangladeshi person privy to the details of this top-secret military operation. He reminded me repeatedly of the importance of this message and asked me to comply accordingly. I swore to him on my life.
As we shook hands to say goodbye, General Aurora mentioned, “This is the Liberation War of your motherland. I am certain you will be able to make good on your promise to your country. I hope to see you in Tangail.’
I evaluated my meeting with General Aurora as a signal for our impending victory.
Accordingly, an Indian officer crossed the border and arrived in Tangail. He was perhaps the first Indian Army officer to infiltrate more than one hundred miles into the Bangladesh free zone before the war started. I met him on 3 December in Baroiotol, a village on the Dhaleshwari River near Bhuapur. He introduced himself as Peter and we exchanged passwords. I came to know that he was a Captain in the Indian Army and that he was a Bengali from Kolkata. He had arrived in the free zone just a night earlier, escorted by five freedom fighters, three of whom were trained wireless set operators. His mission was to contact Kader (Tiger) Siddiqui and select the strategic locations for the landing of the Indian paratroopers. All relevant information was to be sent back to his controlling headquarters.
‘I will brief you of our activities,’ I told him, once pleasantries were over.
“That’s not necessary,’ he said. “I have received a detailed briefing from Brigadier Sant Singh and Brigadier Kler.’ He then told me that both Brigadier Sant Singh and Brigadier Kler had sent their greetings to Kader and to me.
We dined together on a feast of puffed rice and molasses, and spent the night on two boats on the Dhaleshwari River. Early next morning Peter established contact with Kader on wireless. War had been declared the previous night and that morning, we saw two Indian MiG fighter aircraft flying towards Dhaka.
Next morning Kader came to meet us. We discussed the landings with Kader and then chose three sites. These were Gourangighat to the west of Ghatail Police Station, the wide open ground of BangraSholapura on the west of Kalihati Police Station, and the Pathan ground on the south of Ichchapur-Sahdevpur. The sites lay astride the Tangail-Madhupur highway so that the paratroopers’ heavy guns and vehicles could easily get to the road. Using Morse code, Peter then sent the coordinates to the Indian High Command.
The next morning, Kader left to oversee the massive preparations for the impending attacks. On 7 December, Peter and I left the boat and camped by the side of Nikrail School. While we were busy testing the wireless sets, Kader showed up. He formally put me in charge of communication regarding all subsequent attacks and placed 150 freedom fighters under my command. My job was to coordinate communication among the different companies, to maintain constant contact with Kader, and to help Peter in his work. I also had ten military and four civilian wireless sets at my disposal. This equipment complemented the long-distance wireless connection with India, which was already in place. Kader then met with the commanders present at Nikrail School for a final briefing of the battle strategies. That was when we received news that India had formally recognized the state of independent Bangladesh the previous day on 6 December. This news was widely publicized through radio stations such as Free Bangladesh Radio, Akashvani and the BBC. We quickly arranged to spread this exhilarating news through our messengers among the villagers. Kader’s presence and the news of India’s recognition of Bangladesh created a feverish excitement amongst the people. After the evening prayers, thousands of people assembled at the school ground. Kader gave a passionate speech.
Captain Peter was deeply impressed by the large turnout, and the support and enthusiasm of the population. Kader then bade goodbye to the commanders of the Eastern Zone as they prepared to proceed to their various positions. He left Nikrail at about eleven that night, but before leaving, he held another meeting with Peter and me. We informed him of the latest battle situation, and other information regarding the Mukti Bahini, the Pakistani forces
and the Indian Army. He then set off for Jhawail to organize attack on the enemy position at Gopalpur. He also told us to leave Nikrail, saying that it was unsafe to stay after such a massive rally. We started packing right away. However, it became apparent that we needed help in carrying so much equipment. In addition to the 150 armed freedom fighters, I was able to recruit an additional fifty volunteers to help us transport our equipment. With this large group of 200 men, we then moved towards Ghatail. After marching through the remainder of the night and the whole of next day, we reached west of Ghatail by early morning on 9 December and set up a temporary camp in the house of Abdul Halim Chowdhury. By noon we had set up our communication system. Since the previous night, about ten thousand freedom fighters had deployed at various places and skirmishes with the enemy were frequent. The team led by Commander Anis had attacked the enemy at Gopalpur and Madhupur. Madhupur had fallen to the Mukti Bahini but the enemy at Gopalpur was still holding on. With Madhupur captured, the road for the Indian Army to move from Jamalpur to Tangail was clear and Captain Peter relayed this information to his command.
Our camp, located near Gourangighat had been secured by Commander Hakim’s team. Additionally, a group led by Commander Habib was on high alert on the Tangail-Madhupur Road to ambush enemy soldiers. That night, Kader showed up at our camp and called for Major Hakim and Major Habib to discuss an attack on the Ghatail garrison. The plan envisaged attack on two bridges to the north and south of Ghatail police station and a frontal attack on the Ghatail garrison. The attacks were to be supported by three-inch mortar fire by Commander Hakim.
The attack started at four in the morning. Habib’s team captured the bridge on Baliapara and destroyed it. Mortar shelling started on the Ghatail police station and then the post was attacked and captured by Commander Sabur’s team. By morning, the operation was successful and the Ghatail police station was in our hands. We 5 captured about 300 enemy soldiers including regular army, militia, and Razakars. Eighteen dead bodies of enemy soldiers lay scattered in the police station and bunkers. We also captured Kalidaspara Bridge, but in that action, one freedom fighter of Commander
Mostafa’s platoon was killed and two others were injured. We brought the wounded to our camp for treatment. Unfortunately, we did not have a doctor and the situation for the patients was getting critical. Luckily, that afternoon I learnt of a female doctor just a few miles away who was a distant relative of mine. We sent a message to her for assistance and she responded promptly, quickly reporting to the camp to treat our wounded comrades.
On the morning of 10 December, Pakistani Army forces defeated at Jamalpur and Mymensingh began their retreat to Dhaka. Meanwhile, after the capture of Ghatail police station, Kader and his forces moved to Goalgonda to the west of Ghatail. We were guerilla troops and our aim was not to fight from fixed defences. In the meantime, Brigadier Kader Khan’s troops after their defeat at Jamalpur and Mymensingh were fleeing towards Dhaka. A part of this force occupied Ghatail police station to cover the withdrawal of their main forces. Commander Habib ambushed the leading elements of this force, but the enemy, with his superior strength, counter attacked and Habib retreated under cover of continuous fire.
At noon, Kader sent a radio message instructing us to request the Indian High Command to start an air raid on Ghatail and Gopalpur enemy positions. We immediately sent our request. Within an hour, we received confirmation of an imminent air raid and we informed Kader. Freedom Fighters in these areas were told to leave their positions straightaway. At exactly three in the afternoon, three MiG-21 fighters began continuous attacks on Gopalpur and Ghatail enemy positions with guns and rockets. We were excited to see the air attack on the enemy positions and were overwhelmed with joy. The men at the camp began dancing with exhilaration.
After the air raid, about 300 enemy soldiers at Gopalpur surrendered to the Freedom Fighters. The Pakistani Army troops that had occupied Ghatail also withdrew to Tangail. That afternoon (December 11), Peter received a coded message from his headquarters and burst into joy. He told me that the paratroopers would be landing shortly. I then sent a message to Kader which simply said, ‘They are coming? and alerted the commanders of the three zones.
At five in the afternoon, two Indian Air Force MiGs flew very low over Ghatail and Kalihati.
‘Look! They are here! shouted Peter.
We did not know which dropping area they would choose as the MiGs circled a very wide area. Then we saw the cargo planes, flying above the circling MiGs. Suddenly, the two MiGs shot up towards the stratosphere as the cargo planes slowly descended. They were Indian Air Force transport planes, AN-12, C-119, and CD-3. The planes descended in waves. As they approached their lowest point of descent, they came to a slow hover. It was as if they were floating in the air. Suddenly their bellies opened and parachutes began dropping.
We were ecstatic. All the inhabitants of Dighalkandi, from the young to the old, both men and women, came out on the open fields to see the spectacle. The southeastern sky, as far as we could see, was covered with what looked like big balloons. As they initially dropped from the planes, the paratroopers looked like small white leaflets. However, as their parachutes opened up, the leaflets turned into giant umbrellas. On a sunny and breezy afternoon, the blue sky of Tangail was brilliantly recomposed with a spectacular view created by the paratroopers. For those who were lucky enough to watch, this was the scene of a lifetime. It was an unforgettable moment.
It took almost an hour for the Para battalion under Colonel Pannu to land. The sun had already begun to set and they regrouped under cover of darkness. We all rejoiced at the signs of an impending victory. Captain Peter, however, could not communicate with the paratroopers as they landed as our radio communication with them had broken down. Moreover, the paratroopers landed at Kalihati, which was farthest from us. This made physical contact very difficult in the dark. Peter became impatient and restless and I calmed him. At eight in the evening, Kader stopped by our camp. He reassured Peter that the landing was successful and that the paratroopers had made contact with the Mukti Bahini. Kader told us that the highways connecting Madhupur, Gopalpur, Kalihati, and Sholakura were now all under the full control of the Mukti Bahini. The fleeing Pakistani Ž soldiers had been attacked from various positions on the TangailMadhupur Highway. They had repositioned themselves further south on the highway between Phultala and Pungli. They were
just south of Kalihati Police Station. About twenty vehicles of the Pakistan Army had been destroyed and more than fifty soldiers had been killed. The Mukti Bahini had been able to capture a number of vehicles as well as a huge quantity of arms and explosives. We were pleased with the outcome of the battles.
At five in the morning, Kader headed out with his troops to Tangail along the Mymensingh-Tangail Highway. Peter and I were also with him. We were welcomed at the liberated Kalihati headquarters by Commanders Nabi Newaz, Riaz, and Samad Gama. They reported that their forces were in full control of the Kalihati Police Station and that Tangail Highway was in our control as far south as Sholakura. They also told us about the previous night’s battle at Pungli Bridge. It appeared that the enemy was caught unawares about the presence of the paratroopers at Pungli Bridge and had suffered heavy casualties. The enemy morale was low as they had also suffered sizeable casualties in the battles with the Mukti Bahini a day earlier. The enemy remnants were now fleeing towards Ichhapur, with the Mukti Bahini in pursuit. Captain Peter then called for an air strike on Ichhapur and shortly thereafter, a squadron of Indian Air Force fighters flew over, setting forty vehicles of the Pakistani Army ablaze and killing a large number of enemy troops.
We then moved to Sholakura but were halted at the Sholakura Bridge by enemy fire. At this time, several volunteers arrived escorting a contingent of paratroopers. Behind the force of the previous night’s gusty winds, the paratroopers drifted away from their targeted position and thus they could not join in the battle fought the previous night. Captain Peter was delighted to meet his colleagues, amongst whom was a young Captain. Kader then instructed a team of freedom fighters to escort the paratroopers to the main contingent through the Eastern Passage of Tangail-Kalihati Highway. Local volunteers arranged for their meals.
Captain Peter then left us and joined up with the paratroopers and we resumed our advance to Phultala. The young Paratroop Captain offered to join us in our operations but Kader told him that the Mukti Bahini was strong enough to face the enemy here and asked them to save their energy for Dhaka. Kader attacked Phultala with mortars and then sent about 300 fighters to take the village. By afternoon, the
enemy fled and Phultala came under our control. On reaching there, I saw about fifty to sixty wounded Pakistani soldiers groaning and lying scattered around. About forty vehicles of the Pakistani Army had been completely destroyed. Many enemy soldiers had abandoned their vehicles, left the highway, and fled on foot through the villages. Pakistan Army fatigues lay scattered on the road suggesting that some military personnel fled in civilian clothes.
We established radio contact with the Indian paratroopers positioned at Pungli Bridge and learnt that Brigadier Kler of the Indian Army was on his way to Tangail. Kader left to meet Brigadier Kler and I, with a team of freedom fighters, left for Pungli Bridge to meet the Indian paratroopers. As we walked on the road to Pungli Bridge, I came face to face with the bone-chilling scenes of last night’s battle. Corpses of hundreds of enemy soldiers littered the road; the bodies by sprawled from one side of the bridge to the other. We walked with care so as not to step on the dead. All around was a mass of twisted mangled bodies and body parts. Never in my life had I seen so much death in one place. ‘Why,’I asked myself, ‘had the Pakistani government sent these men to kill innocent Bengalis? Look at them now. They were lambs led to the slaughter.’
At the Bridge, I met Peter and he introduced me to his Commanding Officer, Colonel Pannu. As I told them about the liberation of Phultala, a signalman interrupted to inform us that Brigadier Kler and Kader were headed towards Pungli Bridge together. It was about three in the afternoon and when Brigadier Kler and Kader Siddiqui stepped down, five hundred freedom fighters and paratroopers received them with a thunderous applause. Brigadier Kler instructed his officers to assemble and celebrate victory with bottles of champagne. Within minutes, corks began flying in the air as foam rimmed over the tops of bottles. Everyone was given a glass. When I was approached, I politely declined and requested that Kader and me be given soda water instead. We all held our glasses in the air in celebration of our victory.
Brigadier Kler came over to me thereafter and thanked me for the help and cooperation extended by the Mukti Bahini. From him I came to know that General Gill had been injured and hospitalised a few days ago when an anti-tank mine blew up his vehicle. The news
saddened me as we held General Gill in high esteem. He was very sympathetic and appreciative of my work, and that of the efforts of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.
From the Indian officers I learnt that in the battle around Pungli Bridge, three hundred-seventy Pakistan soldiers were killed and more than one hundred injured. Six Indian paratroopers achieved martyrdom and 15 were injured. Over 600 Pakistani troops were taken prisoner.
An unfortunate incident of blue on blue firing occurred before Kader met Brigadier Kler, which also needs to be told. The Indian commander’s convoy was moving to Tangail when Mukti Bahini forces located at Kalidaspara fired upon it. The Indians were caught unaware as they were told that the road was clear and under the control of the Mukti Bahini. The Mukti Bahini Company under the command of Major Habib was not informed about the movement of the Indian convoy and mistaking them to be Pakistanis, opened fire on them. The Indians retaliated, but fortunately, the matter was quickly resolved and the firing ceased from both sides. The incident was unfortunate as unnecessary casualties occurred on both sides. Major Habib thereafter escorted Brigadier Kler’s convoy to Bamutia where Kader welcomed Brigadier Kler and then they came over together to Pungli Bridge.
After the meeting, Kader and Kler decided to move on to Tangail that same evening. Brigadier Kler wanted to move to Tangail immediately, but Kader told him that the area was not yet fully secure. After a daylong battle under the leadership of Commanders Fazlur Rahman, Razzaque, Mainuddin, Niyat Ali, and Matiar Rahman, most of Tangail town was in the hands of the Mukti Bahini. However, a small contingent of Pakistani forces at the new Tangail town garrison had not yet surrendered though it was cut off from all sides. An attack was launched at four pm that evening with about 200 Freedom Fighters, supported by mortar and machine gun fire. Very soon, the enemy guns were silenced and the last remnants of resistance at Tangail ceased.
By that evening, the whole town stood liberated. By now, tens of thousands of people had begun assembling around the Awami
League premises to see Kader and to celebrate our victory. The whole town was dancing with joy. Brigadier Kler then came over to join in the celebrations.
This for me was the last major action of the war. The Pakistan army was on the run and its eventual defeat was now simply a matter of time.
Reflecting on the war, I think Captain Peter’s infiltration deep inside enemy territory reveals a well thought out deception plan that has not been fully appreciated by analysts. In early October, a strong contingent of the joint military forces consisting of the Indian Army and Freedom Fighters was mobilised on the borders of Comilla, Sylhet, and Jessore. Heavy artillery and tanks were positioned in those sectors. The presence of the joint forces was very visible to the Pakistani Army in those sectors. However, in the Mymensingh and Jamalpur sectors to the north, the presence of the joint forces was much weaker and consisted of two brigades only under 101 Communication Zone. Brigadier Kler and Brigadier Sant Singh, the two brigade commanders had light armoury with them and put pressure on the Pakistani forces on the borders of Kamalpur and Haluaghat. Moreover, to further deceive the enemy, Z-Force, a special Mukti Bahini Brigade led by Colonel Ziaur Rahman, was transferred from the northern sector to Sylhet in the eastern sector, where two other special Mukti Bahini brigades were already stationed; S-Force led by Colonel Shafiullah and K-Force led by Colonel Khaled Mosharraf. Only Colonel Taher and his Mukti Bahini forces were left in the northern sector to attack the fortified garrison of the enemy at the Kamalpur border outpost.
As Indian forces were not concentrated there, the Pakistani leadership presumed that no major attack was envisaged by the Indian Army through this sector and so an elderly Pakistani officer, Brigadier Kader Khan was left in charge. In my view, this was an intentional move by General Aurora to mislead the enemy into thinking that the Indian Army advance into Dhaka would take place through the Comilla border.
Meanwhile, on 11 December, General Jacob, the Chief of Staff of the Indian Army, arranged a press conference in Kolkata. He declared
to the national and international press that the night before, Indian paratroopers had landed surrounding Dhaka city. He claimed that Dhaka was then a besieged city, waiting to fall any day.
On the insistence of reporters, General Jacob reluctantly disclosed that a division of joint forces had surrounded Dhaka city. However, in reality, the division he referred to was actually only a single battalion of paratroopers who had landed, not in Dhaka, but rather some seventy miles to the north, in Tangail district. Pakistani command was distressed by this bluff. It created a tremendous amount of psychological pressure on General Niazi to surrender. The joint force strategy worked just as planned.
This para drop at Tangail caught the Pakistani leadership on the wrong foot and hastened the end of the war. For Brigadier Khan, this was the second surrender of his military carrier. During our interrogation, we came to know that he had also surrendered to the Indian Army on the West Pakistan border during the India-Pakistan war of 1965.
The inclusion of the Tangail Mukti Bahini in the original war strategy to conquer Dhaka was an important historical event. One of the most significant components to this plan was the landing of a battalion of paratroopers in Tangail. Arguably, I was the first person in Bangladesh to have had the privilege of knowing this vital secret plan.
I was lucky and honoured to be associated with such a clever war strategy. It was also a great testament to Kader as well as to the Tangail Mukti Bahini.
Behind Enemy Lines
Brig PK Ghosh, Vrc
Dy May 1971, the situation in East Pakistan was boiling over.
B Refugees had begun to pour into India and the constant refrain in the media was that war with Pakistan was imminent. At this time, I went to attend the Combined Course at the Joint Air Warfare School (JAWS) in Secunderabad. When I returned to 50 Parachute Brigade, Brigadier Mathew Thomas had taken over from Brigadier TS Oberoi. In October, Brigadier Thomas summoned me and told me to meet the Chief of Staff, Headquarter Eastern Command, Major General JFR Jacob.
I met General Jacob, and he congratulated me for ‘volunteering for the ‘mission’. Seeing the look of utter bewilderment on my face, Gen Jacob smiled and proceeded to put me at ease in a most avuncular fashion.
‘Look young man, you’re a paratrooper, a signaler, a commando, a Bengali and your Commander says that you topped the last course at JAWS. I cannot think of a better lad for this job’.
The ‘job’ was to get into enemy territory as soon as possible in the event of war breaking out, establish a good working relationship
with Mukti Bahini and locate two to three good dropping zones (DZs) for 2 Para Battalion Group as close to Pungli Bridge (just north of Tangail), as possible. When the time came, I was to ensure that the assaulting unit was led to the objective area and all heavy drops were secured without loss. General Jacob then waved me off with a big reassuring smile and said orders would follow in due course.
I left Dum Dum for Guwahati by air on 28 November 1971 along with Lt Col KS Pannu, the Commanding Officer of 2 Para. It was a bright sunny morning and I was happy to be going to Shillong in this style. How lucky can a fellow get, I thought. I also felt thrilled to be going on this ultra-secret mission. Although I did not know much about it, but from the send-off talk that my Commander gave me before I left, one thing was evident. I was in for plenty of excitement once the balloon went up.
We were met at Guwahati airport by a shady looking character who took charge of our luggage and whisked us off to Shillong in an Ambassador car. He took us to the Officer’s Mess and disappeared. Major Bammi, the GSO2 (Operations) met us after dinner and asked us to be ready to meet the General Officer Commanding (GOC) 101 Communication Zone Area (CZA) next morning at 0400 hours! When Pannu protested, Bammi told him that the ‘Old Man’ liked to get an early start. Next morning, dot at four, we were ushered into General Gurbux Gill’s bedroom. The General lay on his bed while we took up military postures. The bedroom looked more like a macho Command Post than a place for carefree slumber. Taking hold of a long pointer staff, he briefed us with the help of the ceiling to floor maps’ at the foot of his bed. He also briefed me about Tiger Siddiqui whom he had met when the latter was undergoing some training in the FJ Sector under Brigadier Sant Singh and told me that it was important to contact Siddiqui at the earliest.
From the briefing, I surmised that the Mukti Bahini in Tiger Siddiqui’s area was roughly 15,000 strong and that Siddiqui was one of the most effective Mukti Bahini commanders in Bangladesh. His force operated in the Tangail and Mymensingh area and he had become a thorn in the flesh of the Pakistan Army. He was something
of a snob, but was completely honest, straightforward and highly motivated. Though lacking in formal military training he had a lot of common sense and natural leadership and was a good organiser. General Gill also stated that the Mukti Bahini was in virtual control over the Eastern banks of the Padma River from Jagannathganj Ghat to Tangail. The Mymensingh-Tangail Highway and the areas immediately to the east and west of it were under Pakistani control. He then told us to proceed forthwith to Garo Bhada in the Tura Hills District for further briefing at Headquarter 95 Mountain Brigade. When Pannu asked him for further orders, General Gill told him to collect as much information as he could, then go back to Kolkata and wait for the balloon to go up’. As for me, I was to be launched into East Pakistan without further delay! Pannu looked at me with a better you than me, boy smirk on his face.
We reached Headquarter 95 Mountain Brigade by ten that night and realised that heavy and serious skirmishing was even then going on in border areas with East Pakistan. Brigadier Kler had, however, moved forward to Kamalpur, where one of his battalions was engaged in overrunning a Pakistani garrison. So early next morning, we drove down to Mahendraganj, a few kilometres short of Kamalpur and met Brigadier Kler there. He briefed Colonel Pannu and me separately. From the Commanders briefing, it appeared that of all the planned thrusts being directed towards Dhaka, the northern thrust under 101 CZA had a good chance of succeeding since there were no major water obstacles impeding its projected path. The role of the planned airborne assault in preventing a possible long drawn out delaying battle at Tangail also became clear. Brigadier Kler, who knew me from my days in 19 Mountain Division at Baramulla, where he was the GS01 (Operations), then asked me how I planned to get on with my job.
“Well sir,’ I said, apart from the fact that there is not enough time for me to get circumcised, I do not have the foggiest notion of how to proceed in the matter
‘Do not worry,’ said Brigadier Kler cheerfully. ‘I have had a chat with Brigadier Sant Singh, Commander of FJ Sector. His Brigade Major, Major Mookherjee, will brief you further.
That evening, all of us including Brig Kler came back to Tura for an interaction with the GOC next day. On 1 December, General Gill arrived at the helipad and went into conference with Brigadier Kler and Brigadier Sant Singh. The latter had come over from Dalu, where his headquarter was located. The General then briefed me. He told me that I was to pose as a Mukti Bahini, but if caught by the enemy my cover was that I was a Bengali from Kolkata who was fighting with Mukti Bahini as a freelance. He also gave me an Odomos tube and asked me to give it to Siddiqui as a present from the GOC. This, he assured me, would put me in good standing with Siddiqui. He also told me to crossover the same evening.
From the helipad, I went along with Brig Sant Singh to Dalu. He briefed me in his office where I was told that Siddiqui’s forces had adequate quantities of mortars and ammunition, some of which we had supplied and some had been captured from two steamers in August on the Padma River off a village called Matighata. I was to contact Siddiqui as soon as possible, find out the location of his forces and pass back this information at once, as well as information about the enemy. I was also to operate in conjunction with military operations launched by the Indian Army, and where possible, block enemy positions to prevent withdrawal of forces or movement of reinforcements. My main task of course remained to select main and alternate DZs not too far from Tangail and pass back coordinates to FJ Sector.
At Dalu, I met Mookherjee, who turned out to be none other than SG Mookherjee of Signals who I knew from my days at Mhow while attending a course there. He also filled me up on other details of the operation and my mission. I was given the codename ‘Peter,’ dressed up in a ‘lungi, a half torn shirt with a “jhola’ and a sheet to cover myself. The codename for Headquarter FJ Sector was Babaji. That incidentally was how Siddiqui’s forces referred to Brigadier Sant Singh. I was also given Rs10,000/- in Pakistan currency and an unmarked Sten Machine Carbine with two magazines of unmarked ammunition. Captain TI Donald, the Signals Officer of FJ Sector then handed over two small radio trans-receivers, called Radio Set HX. Four such sets had also been sent across in September to the Mukti Bahini, but their fate was not known. Working on battery
cells, the crystal tuned set could be used to send and receive messages using Morse code. I was told that I could expect a range of about 10 to 15 km with the former and about 30 km with the latter. In actual practice, on good days, I was able to get as much as 65 to 70 km! Of course, I took the precaution of discreetly passing it on to Donald’s boys that my Morse was a bit ‘rusty’.
Setting across the border, I do recall being a bit uneasy. I was young but not so young as not to realise that my wife was in the family way with our second child. She was due in December and it would be hard on her if something were to happen to me. I had taken precautions of writing out about seven odd letters and sent them back to my Company with Colonel Pannu, with instructions to ‘Bags’ (late General Andy Bhagat) to post them at regular intervals to my wife. (As it turned out, this ploy failed miserably since my letters were impossibly out of ‘sync’ with her letters, not to mentior the well-known ‘women’s intuition’ factor). At a professional level, I realised that my mission was important and that I ought to feel excited. I also realised that what I was doing was ‘clandestine’. General Gurbux had made it quite clear that once I crossed over, the Indian Army would disclaim all knowledge of my existence. Nonetheless, once I had spent 24 hours inside enemy territory, the urgency of ‘here and now completely took over my consciousness and thereafter it was more a question of thinking on my feet and getting on with the job.
From Dalu I came to Garo Bada and then moved to Manka Char on the border where we had a post each of the BSF and the Mukti Bahini. I had with me ‘Badshah’, a 14 year old boy who I had picked out from the batch of Mukti Bahini trainees in FJ Sector. He came in handy as a local guide and as an interpreter, when required. I was after all a ‘Bong’, born and brought up in Kanpur and as far as local dialects of rural East Pakistan were concerned, I may as well have been of Greek parentage. At ten that night, Badshah and I left by foot. We walked due south for about 10 miles and then were able to arrange a small boat which we hired. This I decided would be the safest and fastest way to contact Siddiqui, who I was told was at a place called Bhuapur,
about 65 miles further south. There were two places en route, which would be dangerous; Bahadurabad Ghat and another Ghat about ten miles further south, which were guarded by Pakistani soldiers.
We rested for the night and resumed journey the next day at five in the morning, reaching Bahadurabad Ghat just before midnight. It was pitch dark and the boatman was paddling furiously to bypass the point as quickly as possible. The sentry at the ghat somehow got suspicious and suddenly a powerful beam of light came on and started scanning the river in a wide arc. Luckily, we were near the far bank and we jumped out of the boat. The river at this point was about 400 yards wide. When the beam caught our boat, machine gun fire opened on us, but by this time we were safely hidden in the broken ground across the river. The firing continued for about five minutes but the Pakistanis did not cross over to investigate the boat as it had tilted and was at a rakish angle. The search beam however continued for another 15 minutes. We then got back in the boat, crossed the ghat and moved to the west bank of the Padma River and resumed the journey on foot.
We reached Bhuapur on 3 December and contacted the Mukti Bahini company there, but there was no sign of Tiger Siddiqui. However, I did locate one of the four radio sets given to Siddiqui. Early next morning, I opened my set at 5 AM, and keeping my fingers crossed, put the magnetic earphone into my ear. After about 5 minutes, I had a strong Morse station and concentrated. I got the word ‘BABA’……. and immediately transmitted back asking the other end to send very slowly. This time I received FROM BABAJI TO PETER’. I had established contact.
I passed back what information I had gathered and was told to ‘GO TO MOHAMEDS’s HOUSE’. This was the signal to put pressure on Madhupur. From this, I determined that war had been declared. This was confirmed shortly thereafter when I saw Indian MiG fighter aircraft overhead, moving towards the general direction of Dhaka.
I now found myself in a tricky position as the Mukti Bahini company at Bhuapur had to be moved near Madhupur, but in the absence of Siddiqui the local company commander was rather reluctant to take orders directly from me. Ultimately, however, he was persuaded to
do so. This company, along with two more companies to the north then occupied defensive positions southwest of Madhupur and west of Gopalpur. The enemy was not to be allowed access to the Padma and escape down south.
From Bhuapur I collected nine young and enthusiastic boys and headed south towards Tangail in search of Siddiqui. By the evening, we reached a village called Doghalkandi just north of Tangail. From the Mukti Bahini company there, I came to know that Siddiqui was in village Nagarpur, ten miles south of Tangail. To save time, I decided to move through Tangail town, but as the town was held by the Pakistani forces, it was important to find out their deployment. To facilitate our move, the Mukti Bahini opened fire on the enemy positions at 11 that night. We then crossed the town and set off for Nagarpur, which we reached by about 0330 hours. There was much firing in progress, and scouting ahead, I made contact with the Mukti Bahini men, who were attacking a Razakar outpost of five mud bunkers. There were about 20 Razakars there with weapons, holding on stubbornly to their position. I came to know that Siddiqui had earlier left for Basail, a thana headquarter about eight miles south east of Tangail. We finally contacted Siddiqui there at eight in the morning and handed over Brigadier Sant Singh’s letter to him.
Siddiqui told me that the Tangail garrison was apparently being reinforced. We decided to blow up as many bridges as we could on the main road. Between 5 and 8 December, we destroyed 17 bridges between Mirzapur and Tangail. Most of these bridges were guarded by Razakars of whom we must have killed about 100 in those 4 days. In the meantime, I kept FJ apprised of our actions. We also reconnoitred suitable areas for the para drop and I passed on the coordinates of these locations. Operating mainly at night, we regularly ambushed Pakistani military convoys moving up and down the Kamalpur/Mymensingh – Madhupur – Tangail Axis creating as much confusion and insecurity in the rear areas, as we could. I have to say that the Mukti Bahini boys were in high spirits and fairly charged up.
On 9 December, FJ sector asked me if I was ready for my colleagues. I replied in the affirmative but was not informed when and where
they were coming. I could not get through on the 10th and got rather desperate because I felt that the drop was imminent. My only consolation was that my location was not too far from the projected drop locations. My anxiety was finally resolved on the 11 evening. It was around 1500 hours that we heard the drone of an aircraft. This was obviously the Pathfinder. It was already getting a little dark since by IST the sun sets early in the East. I rushed towards the DZ area with about 50 young lads who were every bit as excited as I was. By the time we reached at around 1700 hours, the drop had commenced. We had practised this at Agra many times, but this was the actual stuff! I am proud to say that 2 Para and all other components under command went about their landing and rendezvous drills in a professional manner. In less than 90 minutes, the guns, mortars and machine guns were deployed and by 1830 hours, the battalion had taken up positions astride Road Madhupur-Tangail on either side of the Pungli Bridge. They were in the nick of time, because just then, the Pakistani troops, falling back from Jamalpur and Mymensingh were upon us trying desperately to break through to Tangail. The enemy, taken by surprise, suffered heavy losses. I remember that Major VK Sarda along with Captain Surjit Singh were deployed in the forward companies and did a tremendous job in keeping the enemy at bay and standing firm with their boys. Both were awarded the Vir Chakra for gallantry.
I had earlier indicated to Headquarter Eastern Command via FJ Sector that, given the local situation, paucity of Pakistani troops in Tangail and roadblocks that I had planned to establish, a morning drop would be feasible and advisable. Had that taken place, we would have been able to cut off a major portion of the Pakistani forces falling back from Mymensingh and Kamalpur and caused even greater damage to the enemy. I however, look back with satisfaction on a job well done. I had about 200 excited Mukti Bahini boys under my control on the DZ, and we contributed our bit to the success of the operation in terms of getting the battalion to Poongli Bridge, north of Tangail, without delay and recovering all the heavy drops including artillery guns, ammunition, light vehicles and other stores to the respective earmarked areas, with dispatch.
By mid-day on 12 December, 1 Maratha commanded by Colonel ‘Bulbul’ Brar linked up with 2 Para. By the evening of 12 December,
we had occupied Tangail. Brigadier Kler, speaking to all officers on 13th morning made it clear that given the progress of XXXIII, IV and II Corps he was convinced that 101 CZA with 95 Mountain Brigade leading, had the best chance of being the first to enter Dhaka and he expected nothing less from us. The race for Dhaka was on.
The first problem was transportation. Since I had been inside enemy territory the longest and had good rapport going with Tiger Siddiqui, I was given the task to muster up as many vehicles as possible. I got going with my Bahini lads and by last light had grabbed about 15 cars and 10 odd buses, given under duress, of course. The men were quite resourceful too. They got hold of cycles and rickshaws in large numbers! Advance was resumed on 14″ morning but to our regret we did not have cameras to capture the scene. Soldiers marching, soldiers on cycles and rickshaws and heavy stuff on brightly painted buses and trucks! There was but sporadic opposition. Pakistani troops were constantly bombarded by radio messages from General Sam Manekshaw to surrender and most seemed to have seen the writing on the wall. On 15th, early morning we picked up on radio, what appeared to be an order from General Niazi to all troops to surrender. Advance was speeded up since we were nearing Mirpur Cantonment on the southern edge of Dhaka and were keen to be the first to enter the capital. In the event we succeeded. On 16th morning, the Red Berets of 2 Para were the first to enter Dhaka to a tumultuous welcome by the populace.
This story would have turned out even better had it not been for a slight miscalculation on my part. It was the evening of 16 December, the stage was set for the Surrender Ceremony at the Ramna Race Course. A contingent each of Indian and Pakistan Army had been constituted. The Indian Contingent was taken entirely from 2 Para of which I was a part. After General Niazi handed over his pistol to General Aurora and the latter reviewed the contingents, both Generals repaired to the table set up for the actual signing. The contingents broke off and surged forward to get a ringside view of the historic event. It was difficult to say who was the more excited, our boys for having trumped the enemy, or the Pakistani, relieved that the whole sordid affair was over and they could now go back home!
Seeing that the crowd was too dense to penetrate, Major Nirbhay Sharma, The Adjutant of 2 Para and I stepped aside and stood next to Niazi’s staff car. I casually stole a glance to my left to admire the shiny black Mercedes with Niazi’s flag still hoisted atop the bonnet. Suddenly, it dawned on me that the flag was no longer ‘authorized’. This was my big chance! I saw a vision of this flag adorning the Headquarters Mess at Mhow (with my name in small caption below!). As I was mustering courage and looking for a chance to swipe it, there was a sudden swelling of the crowd with much shoving and elbowing. I soon regained proximity to the staff car again, just in time to see a Naval officer disappearing with the flag. Whenever I reminisce over the Dhaka days, this incident still rankles. Who says life is fair?
After the Surrender Ceremony was over, most of us repaired to the Dhaka Intercontinental Hotel to celebrate. The members of the international press and journalists from all major international magazines were lying in wait to get all the scoops. While they plied us with some good whisky, we on our part held forth on how ‘we had won the war’, not neglecting to mention the stellar role played by our own selves!
We were happy, but at a personal level, there was a tinge of sadness. Right from the morning of 16 December, there was much sniping going on by the Mukti Bahini, who were armed and wanted to extract revenge on the Pakistan Army personnel and their families as they rushed back to Dhaka to seek shelter with the Indian Army in makeshift prisoner of war camps. Captain Ajit Singh, the education office of 95 Mountain Brigade was hit by a stray bullet while outside the Intercontinental Hotel and died on the spot. Truly, conflicts bring about their own share of tragedies. This was most unfortunate as it occurred just before the surrender ceremony. We left Dhaka soon after. My stay behind enemy lines was over.
Hang Up!
Mahadev Gurao
Gt had been a hectic day preparing for the drop, but finally my
colleagues and I were all boarded in the aircraft, the doors had closed and the pilot was ready for take-off. We were in a Fairchild Packet and the mood was sombre. It was 11 December 1971 and soon we would be dropped near Tangail, a place northwest of Dhaka. My battalion, 2 Para was destined to add another glorious chapter to the history of the Indian Army. I was destined to write history of a different sort.
The aircraft revved its engine and slowly taxied on to the runway. Then it picked up speed and soon was airborne, taking my colleagues and me on an adventure of a lifetime. Flying at twilight – the sun sets in around 4 pm in Bangladesh – the pilot gave the ‘Green on, Go’ signal and pressed the buzzer when he saw the dropping zone (DZ) below. The pathfinders of my battalion, 80 in number had left a couple of hours earlier and had marked the dropping zone. They were all set to receive the main body of the battalion.
I was the 19th man in the ‘stick’ of 20 paratroopers on the starboard side of the aircraft. There was another ‘stick’ of 20 paratroopers
on the other side. My colleagues leapt out one by one. The action was happening so fast that it was difficult to think. The line moved swiftly and before I realized it, It was my turn and I jumped.
The drill taught to us was to count as soon as one leapt off the aircraft. The count was; `thousand one, thousand two, thousand three, thousand four’. If the parachute did not open in those four seconds, then it was time up for the paratrooper and he would in all likelihood plummet to his death if he did not open the reserve chute strapped to his belly. In my case, the count was rendered unnecessary. My parachute strap, which was linked to a wire running down the length of the aircraft, did not snap and I found myself dangling upside down, 15 feet below the aircraft. From that vantage position, I saw my colleagues floating down serenely on their parachutes, but at that time I drew little comfort or joy from what was undeniably a fantastic view of a mass of chutes gently headed earthwards. Soon, the view too passed away as we left the DZ behind and then what greeted the eye were the ponds, the bamboo groves and the innumerable mustard fields below. I was caught in what is called a ‘Hang up’ and had five minutes at most to survive. The aircraft was at 1,200 feet and the wind pressure at that height, the exhaust fumes from the aircraft and the constant buffeting against the belly of the aircraft were factors that beat the life out of even the toughest men. I had lost my helmet too in the jerk and as the aircraft lost height to free me, my body kept crashing against the underbelly of the plane. I held on for dear life for there was nothing else I could do. The strong wind stung my eyes and I could feel the swelling in my face. The parachute straps that were running over my thighs were cutting into my flesh, but I braced myself up, determined to beat the odds. If only I could hold on long enough, I thought, the pilots would do something to rescue me. Every second seemed like eternity, but I had to hold on; I had to remain conscious and in full control of my senses if I was to make it.
The crew inside had not been silent spectators. Inside, they worked feverishly, to set me up with another parachute. And when that was done, they cut off the strap off the first one. I found myself free, and was soon floating gently down to the welcoming earth below. I came to know later that I had been hanging for all of 22 minutes, a record by itself.
In those 22 minutes however, the aircraft had taken a circuitous route and now I was deep inside enemy territory, held by Pakistan soldiers. I was all alone and more than 80 km of hostile territory separated me from my battalion. I landed in waist-deep water and quickly disentangled myself from my chute. I had a stengun and a 2 inch mortar with me, but before I could get out of the water, a curious group of villagers had gathered around the pond, wondering who this strange creature was.
I wasted no time in proving to the villagers that I was an Indian soldier. The disc tied around my waist inscribed with my name, number and caste helped me establish my identity. I also showed them photographs of my wife and two children kept in my purse and Indian currency too. Once they were convinced, they were helpful. They gave me some rice to eat and attended to my bruises and cuts. I rested awhile and then a band of Bangladeshi Freedom Fighters arrived and I happily joined their group. I soon found myself engaged in a different kind of war, leading a band of Bangladesh guerrillas in a night attack on a Razakar stronghold. My 2 inch mortar was useless since I had no ammunition for it, but I took a Chinese light machine gun from my new friends, and though I had not used the weapon earlier, it did not take me long to understand its working. The raid on the Razakar stronghold was successful and I took part in many such attacks in the next few days. I also managed to retrieve my parachute which had drifted away when I landed in the pond in another action against the Razakars.
I spent the next nine days with the Freedom Fighters and took part in all their operations. When the mass surrender of the Pakistani army took place, I was about 25 km from Natore. I came to know that my brigade headquarter was located there at the Dighapatia Palace and I reported there, much to the surprise of everyone. Soon thereafter, I re-joined my battalion. I was proud to learn of the brilliant exploits of my battalion at Pungli Bridge and that we were the first to reach Dhaka. What more could any paratrooper want.
Our regimental motto is ‘Men apart, every man an Emperor’. I am glad that I lived up to the standards expected from me.
Section 4 Air and Naval
Operations
1
The Air War AVM Chandan Singh, MVC, AVSM, VrC The Silent War: Naval Operations Cmde Ranjit B Rai
2
3
Profile of a Hero Maj Chandrakant Singh, VrC
4 Musings of 1971 Bangladesh War
Wg Cdr Vinod Nebb, VrC & Bar
5
4 Guards Crosses the Meghna Maj Chandrakant Singh, VrC The Meghna Crossing Air Marshal Chandan Singh, MVC, AVSM, VrC
6
The Mukti Bahini lends a helping hand: Outskirts of Dhaka
13 December 1971
The Air War
AVM Chandan Singh, MVC, AVSM, VIC
Gn 1971, I was posted as Commander at the IAF Station, Jorhat. J We had two transport squadrons, a flight of Mi4 helicopters and detachment of Hunters and Gnats. The transport squadrons provided logistics support to the Army posts in the Northeast states along the Tibet and Burma (Myanmar) borders. They also supported Army formations deployed in counterinsurgency roles in Nagaland, Manipur and Mizo Hills. The helicopter unit provided communications support and casualty evacuation facility to isolated Army posts, which in many cases were several days march on foot from the nearest road head. Maintenance of these posts was by para dropping of supplies including rations. As there was neither electricity nor refrigeration facilities at these remote posts, it was a common sight to see a dozen or so sheep and goats (in service terminology MOH or meat on hoof) crammed tightly into a wooden crate and fastened to a parachute and loaded onto the Dakotas for dropping over the posts. Many of the animals would be injured and nearly all would become blind for some reason. Before animal rights activists start howling in protest, it must be remembered that our men at these posts had no fresh vegetables for months on end and had to subsist on wheat flour, rice, dal, potatoes and onions. MOH and rum were not luxuries, but essential survival rations.
Jorhat is located on the southern bank of the Brahmaputra River in north-east Assam. It is in the middle of the tea country where the finest teas are grown; the true connoisseurs prefer Assam tea to that from Darjeeling, for its full body and rich taste. The tea planters clubs where we were all honorary members provided a welcome social diversion. The airfield was one of several dozen built by the British and Americans during World War II to support their operations against the Japanese in Burma, and also as bases for transport aircraft which flew over the Hump carrying supplies for the Chinese for their war effort against the same enemy. Bases such as these supported the Chindits and Merrill’s Marauders, which operated behind enemy lines. The people of the plains are mainly Assamese, but diverse tribal people of different racial and linguistic groups inhabit the remote valleys and hills. I had several helicopters in my command, I visited their settlements as often as I could to show the Indian flag, and also because their lives and customs fascinated me.
When trouble in East Pakistan started, I had no role as no task had yet been given to the IAF. Events moved so fast from 25 March 1971, when Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was arrested and Major Ziaur Rahman announced the declaration of Independence on Radio Chittagong that the Government of India and the Service Headquarters were taken completely by surprise and were slow to react. No contingency plans existed to cater to face such a situation. My involvement started in the Bangladesh War sometime in July 1971. The Air Officer Commanding in Chief (AOC-in-C), Eastern Air Command, Air Marshal Devan, tasked me to take charge of training of about a dozen Bengali pilots and a hundred airmen who had defected from the Pakistan Air Force. I was to create a nucleus for the future Bangladesh Air Force. The aim was to build up to at least one squadron strength, but sufficient pilots and aircraft were not available. I was given two Otter passenger aircraft and one Alouette helicopter for training. The Bangladeshi pilots had eventually to be made operational on Hunters, but this was a long-term task and at that time, we found the pilots and the airmen under qualified. I started with training the pilots on Otters in night time ultra-low level flying. I moved the Bengali pilots and airmen to a satellite field at Dimapur, for here I could train them without interruption of our
operations at Jorhat. Anticipating that with the aircraft provided we could only operate at night against the enemy, I started them on lowlevel night time flying training. This type of flying, called horizon flying is both difficult and hazardous. I had trained on this type of flying with the CIA in 1963 and was the only such qualified pilot in the IAF. This training paid great dividends and when the war broke out in December, the Bengali pilots performed magnificently. The aircraft were modified and fitted with two chutes to drop 25-pound bombs and two rocket pods each carrying 14 rockets. In addition, a light machine gun was mounted in the cockpit behind the pilot. Within one month, we trained five pilots to fly solo in all roles of bombing and rocketing at night. The enthusiasm of the pilots and ground crew was remarkable and they learnt quickly. This was fortunate, for at the end of November, the AOC-in-C asked me to move with my small Bangladesh Air Force to Kumbhigram and launch operations before the war started. Kumbhigram is in the Cachar district in South Assam close to Bangladesh.
We arrived at Kumbhigram on the morning of 2 December. IV Corps had already launched its offensive in East Pakistan and heavy fighting was going on over a frontage of more than 500 km all the way from the borders of Meghalaya to the Mizo Hills. I was ordered to launch a bombing raid on the fuel storage tanks at Chittagong and Narayanganj. That night, under a brilliant moon the first sorties took off, the Alouette piloted by Flying Officer Alam to Narayanganj and one Otter piloted by Squadron Leader Sultan to Chittagong. An hour and half later I took off in the other Otter and flew towards Chittagong where I saw a bright glow on the horizon towards the harbour which indicated that Sultan had been successful in his mission. I then turned northwest towards Dhaka and saw another glow coming from the vicinity of Narayanganj, confirming that Alam in his little Alouette too had accomplished his mission. In the overall plan, our contribution may have been small, but it did a whale of good to the Bengalis and had a very negative effect on the Pakistanis. It brought the war deep into East Pakistan, conveying to the enemy that the gloves were off and there was to be no turning back. Later in the morning, I was told that The Pakistan Air Force had launched pre-emptive strikes on some of our airfields on the Western Front. These, however, did little or no damage as we
were prepared for them, having learnt our lessons from the Israeli actions on Egypt in 1967 when they destroyed the entire Egyptian Air Force in one morning. Before proceeding further, I would like to mention the gallantry and enthusiasm of the Bangladeshi pilots Sultan, Alam and Ali. They continued with their bombing and strafing runs throughout the war in support of IV Corps operations with whose actions I now got involved.
On 3 December, I went to headquarters of IV Corps at Teliamura in Agartala, to meet the Corps Commander, Lieutenant General Sagat Singh. I arrived there that afternoon but could not meet him as he was out visiting troops. I met him late that evening as he arrived and stayed the night; it was quite an experience. He was full of energy, dynamism and go. Over several large whiskys, he asked as to what our little Bangladesh Air Force could do. As a starter, he asked me to leave Kumbhigram and move closer to any one of the border airstrips at Kailashahar, Kamalpur or Khowai. I selected Kailashahar as that was where the action was. He asked me to target transport movement, lines of communications and troop concentrations and, if possible, destroy a bridge or two. He did not have much time so I could not discuss details with him. In any case, I didn’t have much of an air force.
I arrived at Kailashahar with my little Bangladesh Air Force (BAF) on the morning of 4 December and mounted a total of thirty-six sorties on 4th, 5th, and 6th, mostly disrupting the lines of communications between Munshi Bazaar, Fenchuganj and Brahmanbaria. I am not sure of the success we had with these three aircraft, but on the sorties I was on, we did attack road transport and convoys. On my sorties with Flight Lieutenant Singhla and Flt Lt Sultan of the BAF we managed to hit three troop transports. My log confirms two transports totally destroyed; in the other missions it states targets hit but results not known. I am sure the sorties would have had similar results.
On the fifth evening, General Sagat Singh told me over the phone to call on General Krishna Rao, GOC 8 Mountain Division and inquire if I could be of help in his operations. I called on him the next morning. That particular day a battle had been raging at Alinagar Tea Estate near Shamshernagar airfield in East Pakistan. I had been
observing the progress of the battle from Kailashahar and when the guns fell silent, I got airborne and landed at Shamshernagar. I had thought of using the Shamshernagar airfield to move further forward, but found that the airstrip had been so badly cratered by our shelling that it was unsuitable even for helicopters. There were craters even in the parking area. Nevertheless, we landed there and commandeering an army jeep, I asked the driver to take me to the divisional headquarters. I noticed a large number of bunkers and trenches damaged by our fire. The headquarters was in the centre of the tea estate and in a clearing was parked the Division Commander’s caravan in which he stayed and had his office. Next to it was a bit of an open ground where a helicopter could land. As soon as I met General Rao, a helicopter landed on the open ground and emerged General Sagat Singh. The Corps Commander had a half hour discussion with General Krishna Rao and then I was called in and told to act as the eyes and ears of 8 Mountain Division. I was also told that some more Mi4 helicopters were arriving and I was to take charge of them too.
A little later on the same morning, General Sagat Singh called me again and said that the enemy at Sylhet wanted to surrender and since our ground forces were not close enough I was to fly to Sylhet, accept the surrender and bring him the Instrument of Surrender. It was a great moment and an honour and I was thrilled that he had chosen me for this task. On the seventh morning, I got airborne and went towards Sylhet where I saw a dead town with not a soul stirring in the open. I did two orbits around the town and then flew to the Sylhet airport expecting the Pakistanis to be lined up, waiting to surrender, but saw no one. I had half a mind to return but then against my instincts and better judgement decided to land thinking that the enemy troops were hiding under cover and would emerge once they saw the helicopter land. I was just about to touch down when I heard the rattle of machine guns from all directions and bullets striking the fuselage of the helicopter. This time I followed my instinct. I came up on the collective, opened throttle and got away flying low level between the trees and out of range of enemy fire. I did not know the extent of damage but managed to climb up to 4000 ft. I once again observed the airfield and saw no movement and had half a mind to try and land once. Better sense prevailed
and I returned to Shamshernagar. I then drove to the divisional – headquarter. General Sagat Singh too had come there, which gave
me an opportunity to accost him. “Sir, I said to the Corps Commander, ‘I have just returned from Sylhet but the only reception I got there was a hail of bullets and my helicopter is perforated with bullet holes’.
General Sagat Singh did not bat an eyelid. It made no difference to him whether I was hit or not.
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘we launch a heliborne operation against Sylhet’. He did not express any sympathy or even apologise that the information about the garrison wanting to surrender was incorrect. Sagat was that very rare breed of men who had only the mission in mind regardless of all else. Now that you are with us,’ he said, “you stay with us’.
He informed me that at this very moment 110 Helicopter Squadron under Squadron Leader Sandhu was landing at Kailashahar and I was to take charge of them. He said that by 1200 hours this very day (7 December), I was to go to Kulaura and pick up Brigadier CA (Bunty) Quinn, Commander 59 Mountain Brigade, then go to Sylhet and select a landing place for the helicopters. After that, I was to use the newly arrived helicopters to launch the operation.
As ordered, I went over to Brigadier Quinn, whose troops had just come out of the Battle of Ghazipur, a couple of kilometres from Kulaura. Kulaura is a small railway station with a couple of sheds, a school building and some barrack-like structures. One of Bunty Quinn’s battalions, 4/5 Gurkha Rifles was resting in the buildings after having suffered heavy casualties in the battle of Ghazipur. When I went to meet the Commanding Officer of the battalion, he said that all his officers were casualties and there was only himself and one other officer who were fit to carry out operations, implying thereby that his unit could not undertake operations immediately. I told the Brigade Commander that I did not know whether he had received these orders yet, but my orders from the Corps Commander and the Division Commander were explicit. ‘I must start mounting the heliborne operation with your troops on board at 1200 hours and complete the operation by sunset,’ I told him. I added that
time was of great essence, and whatever troops they had were to be reorganized quickly as this was a new operation.
Bunty Quinn also stated that it would be very difficult for the troops. He said that we would light up at the paddy fields at Kulaura and have unidirectional glim lamps at Sylhet. I detailed Squadron Leader Chowdhry of the Dakota Group at Kailashahar to be responsible for the ground facilities at Sylhet.
The plan was for the Bangladesh pilots to provide a protective umbrella in the Otters, a difficult task but still good deterrence. The troops would be lifted with six Mi4 helicopters as another one had joined us from Mizo Hills. I was in one of the Alouettes with Singhla flying protective air cover and had a grand time firing rockets and machine guns at Pakistani machine gun positions, which revealed their location whenever they fired tracer rounds at us. I do not know how much damage we did but as the night progressed, the firing became less intensive. Singhla and the Bangladeshi pilots flew all night returning only to refuel and rearm. Initially, I had flown protective air cover, but later did two sorties on the Mi4s. All was going well and I was keeping abreast of the happenings on the radio, but at 0300 hours, I received information that one of the Mi4s was badly hit and grounded at Sylhet. I told the pilot not to attempt to recoup the helicopter but to stay with the ground troops and we would evacuate him in the morning. One more aircraft force landed en-route, possibly due to bad servicing or sheer engine fatigue or enemy action. So now, out of six Mi4 we had only four left. It was only in the morning that I could look at our machines, which we collected at Kailashahar for serving and regrouping. I then took an armed Alouette to look at the two grounded helicopters. The one that landed en-route had engine trouble but could be repaired in situ. I noted the spare parts required and told the crew to stay on. The other helicopter was badly damaged and it was not possible to repair it immediately as the Gurkhas were still engaged with the enemy half a kilometre away. We, therefore, had to abandon it for the time being. The other one we had repaired and retrieved in a couple of hours followed soon by the one at Sylhet.
The Heliborne operation carried on during the day and we were now flying in the reinforcement battalion. In the meantime, I
received a note from General Sagat Singh congratulating us and urging us to continue. The General, getting the enemy by the throat, was not going to let him go! By now though exhausted we had a sense of satisfaction at a mission well done. Our air effort was now augmented with MIG 21s from Tezpur. Having achieved complete mastery of the sky, the MIGs were hammering away at the enemy’s
lines of communication all around Sylhet. I, with my Bangladesh 3 Air Force had a field day bombing and strafing enemy convoys
moving from Maulvi Bazar and other places to reinforce Sylhet. Those reinforcing troops had to abandon their vehicles and start moving in total disarray on foot, where they fell prey to the Mukti Bahini boys and our own advancing troops.
So swift was the advance of ground troops that information on their advance and locations could not reach the Joint Operations Rooms and our planes sometimes strafed our own forces. On 12 December, 4 Guards was strafed, by our MIGs. Shaheed, who was the Forward Air Controller with the battalion, contacted the pilot on the radio and informed him of his mistake, but the pilot could not believe that our troops were that far forward. He thought the Pakistanis had broken into our radio frequency and were speaking to him. Fortunately, Shaheed convinced the pilot to pull away and the only casualty was the heel of the boot of the company commander, Major Marwah, which he has preserved.
By the end of 8 December when the mission was completed, our small band of six Mi4s, two Otters and one Alouette had carried out twenty-two sorties on 7 December, thirty-four sorties on night 718 December and ten sorties on 8 December. Considering the fact that two or three aircraft were always out of commission at any given time it meant that each aircraft had carried out twelve sorties on an average. It was indeed a tremendous achievement. We carried twelve hundred troops and ten tons of stores and equipment in about twenty-four hours of nonstop flying, enabling the Army to achieve its objectives. The helicopters encountered heavy small arms fire during the operations and all helicopters had their fuselages punctured like watering cans, but no pilot Indian or Bangladeshi gave any thought to the danger and carried on with their mission, something that makes me proud to this day. General Sagat Singh handsomely acknowledged the dedication and gallantry of all the pilots.
Early on 8th morning I decided that I must get official sanction for the operations from AOC in C Eastern Air Command so I decided to fly to Shillong via Jorhat to get a couple of hours rest and change of uniform for my meeting. At Jorhat, I received a call from the Senior Air Staff Officer congratulating me for the success of the operation and asking me to get back to Kailashahar. I took this as an approval and so the anxiety of being hauled over coals for undertaking a mission, which had no sanction from higher authorities, was removed from my mind. I returned to the war zone ready to undertake any thing, which Gen Sagat Singh may conjure up. He was a magician and conjurer who could handle half a dozen battles at the same time. He not only had the enemy guessing about his moves and plans but even we could never guess what and where his next move would be.
The Sylhet operation was unique as it was the first time in the history of India that such kind and magnitude of an operation had been undertaken. It was also unique because it was not pre planned.
The Corps Commander saw an opportunity, seized it and launched the operation, knowing that the air resources were inadequate but we would deliver. At the commencement of the operation, neither Bunty Quinn nor I had a clue about enemy disposition and strength, but even the enemy could not quantify us and take counter measures for we had achieved total surprise and speed, which is the essence of Heliborne operations.
The impact of the operation was that it opened the eyes of the Army and Air Commanders that here was the answer to the problems posed by the terrain in Bangladesh and made more intractable by the destruction of nearly all bridges by the Pakistanis and Freedom Fighters. While commanders had planned to use the Mi4s in an operational role, sanction was accorded for only a company-sized operation. At no stage was an operation of this magnitude visualised.
The Sylhet operation helped us iron out operational procedures and lighting of landing and take-off pads. Such operations require total understanding and cooperation between the Army and Air Force, not just at the level of headquarters but also between the pilots and the assault troops. This we achieved at Sylhet. The next step was the crossing of the Meghna.
The Silent War: Naval Operations
Cmde Ranjit B Rai
he Navy is a silent service and its stellar role in the 1971 war 1 in the east needs telling. Very few know that a few hundred Indian naval sailors and divers were secretly whisked to Plassey in West Bengal to join and train Bangla swimmers who were excellent watermen, for raids into East Pakistan. Many naval officers and sailors undertook such raids along with the Mukti Bahini, but no records exist of their exploits due to the demands for secrecy at that time. In addition, in October 1971, Commodore MK Roy, the Director of Naval Intelligence at Naval Headquarters, managed to get hold of the Bangladeshi sailors who had deserted the two PN Daphne submarines readying to sail from France with the help of the Indian Embassy. From these patriots, who were put up in a safe house in Delhi, we gleaned intelligence of the Pakistani Navy, which proved invaluable during operations. To these sailors and to the Mukti Bahini, we owe a debt of gratitude for their contribution to India’s greatest victory. Deep in our hearts they will always stay.
The Navy’s war in the east contributed in great measure to the Army and Air Force efforts to achieve victory in thirteen days and hasten the surrender. Naval air power also operated with the Indian Air Force and parts of the 80,000 strong Mukti Bahini. In addition, for the first time, information warfare, a concept that is still evolving, played an important role in the operations of the Indian Navy. In conjunction with the Mukti Bahini, Naval operations resulted in the sinking of 26 Pakistani ships and about 200,000 tons of enemy shipping to throttle and disable Pakistani forces in the east.
In July 1971, INS Vikrant developed a boiler problem because of which she lost speed. The then Western Fleet Commander, Rear Admiral Chandy Kuruvilla opined, ‘the Pakistani Daphne submarines would sink Vikrant.’ Consequently, INS VIKRANT was transferred to the east coast, where she operated under the command of the Eastern Fleet, recently formed in September 1971. Rear Admiral SH Sharma assumed command of the fleet a month later in October. INS VIKRANT played a stellar role in operations that took place over Cox’s Bazaar, Chittagong, Khulna and other areas. It was rather surprising that the Western fleet did not want INS VIKRANT in its Order of Battle (ORBAT). This however proved fortuitous for the operations of the Eastern Fleet.
INS Vikrant, under the command of Captain Suraj Prakash, operated off the Andaman Islands with experienced naval pilots. To deceive the enemy, Flag Officer Commanding in Chief (FOCin-C) Eastern Naval Command, Vice Admiral N Krishnan at Visakhapatnam, a brilliant tactician with a DSO in the Second World War, generated signals with ‘INS Vikrant’s call sign’ to indicate that the aircraft carrier was off Visakhapatnam. This was the beginning of information warfare in the Indian Navy to divert Pakistan and it worked. The Pakistan Navy sailed PNS Ghazi to stalk INS Vikrant off Visakhapatnam.
By October end, INS Vikrant was operational in the Andaman Islands and the pilots were all raring to go. Deployed for operations on the Eastern coast were INS Brahmaputra and INS Beas, both Brahmaputra class ships. Captain M P Awati commanded INS Brahmaputra and Commander L Ramdas (later CNS) commanded INS Beas. Commander Roy Milan commanded the Foxtrot
class submarine INS Khanderi. There were also Landing Ship Tanks (LST) INS Magar, Guldar and Gharial. The Indian Navy ingeniously converted INS Magar into a tanker for fuelling all the ships including INS Vikrant, which guzzled fuel. In addition, there were a number of patrol craft. Outside Visakhapatnam, there were INS RAJPUT, AKSHAY, PANVEL and PULICAT. Pakistan’s Eastern fleet, commanded by Rear Admiral Mohammad Sharif, had PNS RAJSHAHI, JESSORE, COMILLA and SYLHET, along with four merchantmen. They never came out to meet the Indian Navy blockade and fought in riverine operations like Op Barisal, hunting for the Mukti Bahini fighters. The PNS RAJSHAHI heroically escaped the blockade after the war and sneaked into Malaysia with a deck full of Pakistani troops and naval personnel and currency.
In November 1971, the Pakistani Navy sailed PNS GHAZI, a Tench-class diesel electric submarine (ex USS Diablo) transferred from the US Navy on lease to Pakistan strictly for training. It was near midnight on 4th December when INS RAJPUT sighted a suspicious disturbance resembling a periscope whilst on patrol off Visakhapatnam and attacked the spot with depth charges. A loud under-water explosion followed, accompanied by a flash from the disturbed sea. This was heard and experienced by the coastal battery and residents of Visakhapatnam. INS RAJPUT continued with her mission, little realising that her depth charge attack had in some way led to the sinking of PNS GHAZI. Two fishermen recovered a life raft which was from GHAZI and they were rewarded with a cash prize of Rs 500 each. Naval divers subsequently recovered the log book and diaries from the sunk submarine. Only after getting this ocular proof did India’s defence minister, Shri Jagjivan Ram announce in the Indian Parliament, to the thumping of desks that the Indian Navy had sunk PNS GHAZI.
On 4 December 1971, the Indian Navy started hammering the Cox’s Bazaar airfield. The first sortie, flown by a bevy of the finest pilots – Gigi Gupta, Gulab Israni, Ash Sinha, Fido Sharma, Mike Bhada and AK Mehra as section leaders, drew blood. The anti-aircraft gunfire was braved and much damage done to the airfield. Upon return of the flight, when the fighter controller reported all eight contacts on the radar screen, the ship’s company of INS VIKRANT went
mad with cheer and happiness, and received their pilots. They then began to turn around and re-arm their aircraft. From 5 December 1971 to 8 December 1971, the battleground was now fully in East Pakistan and the Mukti Bahini forces moved in complete concert with the Indian Army in the east and liberated areas in Bangladesh and entered Balmonirghat.
In the meantime, sortie after sortie was mounted from INS VIKRANT. Areas to the west of Khulna, Mongla and Chalna saw naval aerial attacks and a warning was issued that only a white flag would save lives on ships and shore bases. Naval air strikes at Mongla were met with heavy anti-aircraft fire from gun positions on river banks and from anti-aircraft guns mounted on Pakistani gunboats. Two guns were silenced and heavy strafing was attempted wherever gunfire emanated. At Khulna, anti-aircraft fire spat forth from batteries and from the merchant ships, which had to be silenced. On the Pussur River, which is a tributary of the Ganges, the port wireless station, the lifeline for Pakistan naval communication was put out of action. When the merchant ship Ondarda fired antiaircraft fire, the Seahawks went for her and sent her to the bottom of the sea with their rocket attacks. The Chief of the Naval Staff was pleased with the progress of the war and made the famous signal to the Navy
Personal from CNS. Good shooting, well done. Hit hard and keep on hitting.’
However, not everything went as planned. We also had the extremely unfortunate and totally avoidable incident of blue on blue firing, which led to unnecessary loss of lives. The Indian Army Eastern Command had ordered Bangladesh Navy gunboats BNS PALASH and BNS PADMA, accompanied by INS PANVEL and under the overall command of Commander MN Samant, to sail to the port at Chalna. The ships had Bengali seamen and Indian command crew. Constituted as Force Alpha, they were advised to display a yellow bunting cloth, four feet by four feet square on the ship’s bridge top and to fly a yellow flag to avoid being strafed by the Indian Air Force and Indian Navy planes. They departed Hasnabad from the Indian side and arrived at Akram point to enter the Pussur River. At around 2 am they saw two merchant ships on the radar trying
to escape. The ships were out of range of the Bofors 40/60 mm guns, but the reporting led to the capture of ANWAR BAKSH and BAQIR carrying Baluchi troops and families to Karachi when they reached open seas.
Upon reaching Mangla and Chalna early morning and while nearing Khulna in single column, a formation of three IAF Gnats appeared overhead and began to pull up for a diving run. It was unfortunate that the yellow bunting was helping the IAF Gnats to aim better on otherwise camouflaged boats. In his book “Surrender at Dacca,’ General Jacob claims that the Eastern Air Command had been informed of the above, but the Gnats overhead did not know. Thinking them to be Pakistani, they strafed the naval column. All hell broke loose and Lieutenant Commander JK Roy Choudhry, seeing his boat Padma subjected to another strafing decided to beach his boat and ordered ‘abandon ship. Many lives were lost in the strafing. Some personnel were also taken prisoner of war by the Pakistan Army. Lt Cdr Roy Choudhry was badly injured his leg. He was picked up by PANVEL and sent to MH Calcutta with Lt Cdr Charlie Mitra. He was awarded the Vir Chakra for gallantry. When contacted, Lt Gen JFR Jacob commenting on this incidence of Blue on Blue fire by Gnats, said that the PANVEL task force had crossed the bomb line.
Despite this setback, operations continued apace. Along with naval attacks on Cox’s Bazaar and Chittagong, efforts on Barisal were also kept up. Alizes from INS VIKRANT, were flown in moonlight conditions but no movement of ships was observed in Tetuha, Bighai and Bisukali rivers in the Barisal area. The Tigers Sea Hawk 300 Squadron were luckier and in their second wave of six fighters in the Barisal, Bakarganj and Patuawali areas, they located and destroyed three enemy barges laden with troops and arms and equipment, in addition to attacking Pakistani troop concentrations and gun positions. The hard-pressed Pakistani troops looked to escape by any means. All riverine craft were pressed into service and merchant ships too were employed to escape.
The interception of a merchant ship named Azul Hasan Maru near the entrance to the Pussur River proved to be the most dramatic. As mentioned earlier, advance information of this move had been
given by Force Alpha. The ship was actually ANWAR BAKSH, a 7,235-ton Pakistan merchant ship and carried hundreds of Pakistani soldiers posing as labourers. A boarding party of 18 seamen of INS BEAS, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Raz Bazaz boarded the ship. When Raz discovered the ship’s actual crew, he relayed that his 18-man boarding party was too small to physically contain such a large number of soldiers. He heard an alarm from an Indian Naval sentry that a Pakistani soldier was trying to attack him. Armed with a light machine gun, Raz Bazaz went forward and there found the mob in a frenzy ready to attack. He warned them to be silent and behave. When they threatened him, he fired a shot in the air but seeing the leader of the mob lead an assault, he opened up rapid fire and just two feet from him the leader fell in a pool of blood. Courage and timely action brought the situation under control and all crew were taken prisoner. Raz Bazaz remained an unsung hero, a modest man who kept a low profile. He was not even mentioned in dispatches! Hindsight is a great sight and loud mouths did comment that he should have avoided the killings.
On 9 December 1971, the Army Chief General SHFJ Manekshaw (later Field Marshal) as Chairman, Chiefs of Staff Committee suggested a landing operation to prevent the escape of Pakistani Army stragglers. This was code named Operation Beaver and entailed landing of one company of 1/3 Gurkha Rifles, two companies of 11 Bihar, 881 Light Battery and Army Service Corps (ASC) and medical platoons under Brigadier SS Rai, south of Cox’s Bazaar in East Pakistan. The operation however, achieved little. Naval Headquarters planned 12 December 1971 as the D-Day, and the Chief of Staff, Eastern Command, Major General JFR Jacob took charge and nominated the beach from his Second World War experience. Unknown to many, the beach had a sand bar. The biggest Landing Ship Tank, INS MAGAR was acting as a make shift tanker for INS VIKRANT so two other smaller LSTS INS GHARIAL and GULDAR were nominated to ferry the infantry. The troops were cramped and shipped from Kolkata on merchant ship MV VISHWA VIJAY. During the transfer in Calcutta, Major Mastana, from the Medical Corps slipped and drowned. The Indian Navy however, brilliantly accomplished the transfer of troops to GHARIAL and GULDAR at sea. Unfortunately, the date of landing kept changing,
the arrival of the ships on the beach was late and the tide was falling. INS GHARIAL under Lieutenant Commander Shorty Sharma got bogged down in the sand bar near the beachhead. The Gurkhas, not trained for such operations, first landed in to the deep bar with heavy 85 lb weight on their shoulders and three drowned. The landing operations were temporarily halted, until a rope was passed ashore by Commander R P Bhalla and a half-hearted landing of some 170 personnel followed. Luckily, there was no opposition.
Overall, Naval operations were brilliantly executed and contributed greatly to the swift closure of war in 13 days. But for the lone Blue on Blue action, Operation Beaver, everything worked with clockwork precision. This by itself is a strong testimony to the fighting spirit of the troops and the leadership of its officers. While inter service cooperation was of a high order, we still need to get on to joint planning structures, less we pay the price in future conflicts we may be tasked to fight.
Profile of a Hero
Maj Chandrakant Singh, Vrc
at was a muggy evening when I met Commander Akku Roy for
the first and only time. I think it was towards the end of August 1971 when I was sitting pensively, sipping a mug of tea and watching a long line of refugees who had just crossed the border, walk past the Battalion Headquarters of my Battalion 4 Guards (1 Rajput). We were located on a hilltop in Pongbari in the Belonia area of South Tripura. My reverie was interrupted when two of our men brought a tall and fair man to me. His hands were tied behind his back and they were abusing him roundly and prodding him on his bottoms with their bayonets and rifle butts with great enthusiasm. The prisoner did not look too pleased as he also appeared to have been an unwilling recipient of some hard blows from rifle butts.
My men pushed him forward and he sprawled in front of me. They told me that the man was obviously a Pakistani spy who was crossing the border using refugees as cover. Some Bengalis helping him had also been detained and were being interrogated by the Senior JCO, Subedar Makhan Lal. I asked my men to pull him up on to his feet
“The game is up’ I told the prisoner. ‘You better come clean’. ‘I am Major Roy of the Indian Army’ he said. “I am on a secret mission’.
“Which unit are you from,’ I asked.
Here the prisoner tripped. He hadn’t a clue so I asked my men to rough him a bit more. The men were eagerly looking forward to such an order, but as soon as they started the proceedings, the prisoner spoke again.
E “I will tell you the truth,’ he said. “Please ask your men to move out
of hearing range’.
My men moved out and then the prisoner resumed. ‘I am Commander Akku Roy of the Indian Navy, returning after completion of a secret mission in Chittagong Harbour’ he said. “This can be confirmed from Headquarter Eastern Command in Kolkata’.
There was a quiet confidence in his voice and manner. I told him that confirmation would take some time and until then he would be my prisoner. He asked for his hands to be untied so that he could pull down his trousers and I could see for myself that he was not circumcised and hence not a Muslim. On confirmation of this fact I asked him to sit down but continued with the interrogation. I needed to establish that he was indeed an officer from the Indian Navy and not a Pakistani spy.
While talking to him, he rattled off the names of Gilbert Menezes, John D’silva and several others of my naval course mates from the National Defence Academy, who had served under him on INS Vikrant. There were then profuse apologies from my side and hot tea and pakoras were offered to him and his men. An offer of rum was politely declined. We arranged for an armed escort and vehicle to take Akku Roy and his team to Agartala, and while the arrangements were underway, I got to know some bits of his story operating under cover. Some days earlier, we had heard on the radio of the sinking of some merchant ships in Chittagong harbour by Bengali rebels. A group of frogmen who had deserted from the Pakistan Navy and joined the Mukti Bahini had carried out this audacious act. The story of this action slowly emerged.
A group of Bengalis from the Pakistan Navy led by Lieutenant AW Chowdhuri had gone to Toulon in France to take over a Daphne
class submarine, PNS Mangro from the builders. They deserted the Pakistan Navy and with the help of the Indian Embassy, escaped via Italy and Spain to India. Here they trained and operated under the aegis of the Indian Navy. Akku Roy was one of the trainers. From amongst Bengali deserters from the Pakistan Navy, teams were formed to strike various targets in East Pakistan. The operation, planned sometime in the last week of July was codenamed Jackpot and was aimed at simultaneously attacking targets in Chittagong, Chandpur, Narayanganj and Mongla in East Pakistan. Besides other equipment, each group carried limpet mines to destroy ships in harbour. From their training camps in India, the groups infiltrated back into East Pakistan where the Mukti Bahini provided logistics and other support. The attacks on all targets took place in midAugust and broke the myth of normalcy prevailing in East Pakistan. The group led by Commander Roy operated in Chittagong and was responsible for the destruction of the merchant ships there. The mission was extremely dangerous and difficult but was executed to perfection. After the accomplishment of the mission, Akka roy returned to India in the garb of a refugee. This was when my boys spotted him and brought him to me.
Pakistan Army investigations into the audacious attacks concluded that no one had imagined Mukti Bahini capable of conducting such an operation. International media widely covered the attacks, which raised the morale of the Freedom Fighters. Not surprisingly, it had the opposite effect on the Pakistanis. It also reduced the handling capacity of Chittagong Port. This was by far the most spectacular action undertaken by the freedom fighters and the role played by Commander Roy needs recognition.
Akku Roy left for Agartala as soon as we arranged for the vehicle and escort. I never saw him again. Several months after the war had ended, and the Indian Army had pulled out of Bangladesh, my battalion, 4 Guards, was still deployed in the Cox Bazaar area to prevent Pakistani troops from escaping to Burma along with Mizo hostiles. At that time, I visited Chittagong and saw the hulls of the ships blocking the entrance to the harbour. In the port was anchored INS Magar, our only troop carrying ship. My course mate from the Navy, Lieutenant Commander PB Chowdhry, who was flying
helicopters, happened to be there and I caught up with him. From him I came to know that Akku, who was a naval aviator, lost his life over the Arabian Sea on 10 December. Sent to search for survivors of INS Khukri, which had been sunk by a Pakistani submarine, his aircraft never returned. INS Khukri was escorting missile boats on a raid of Karachi Harbour and was attacked while returning to Bombay after the mission. The Alize anti-submarine aircraft Akku was flying went missing, probably shot down by a Pakistan Air Force aircraft returning to Karachi after bombing Okha Port in Gujarat. Some reports suggest that he was not shot down but his aircraft crashed into the sea when he flew low to evade the Pakistani fighters. Many in the Navy are still sore that Akku was sent into an area frequented by Pakistan fighter aircraft in a slow moving propeller driven Alize Anti-Submarine aircraft. He was a legend in the Navy and anyone who ever came into contact with him would have a story to tell about him.
Commander Roy though a Bengali looked more like a North Indian. It is a reflection of his courage that he took the risk of operating inside East Pakistan, knowing fully well that none in East Pakistan would mistake him for a local. Much later, I learnt from Captain JK Sengupta aka ‘Jojo’, my friend and former schoolmate that Akku’s non-Bengali looks and build were inherited from his mother. She was an Estonian refugee who had escaped from her country after the Soviet takeover of Estonia in the thirties. Jojo incidentally was a childhood friend; we had known each other since 1950. Sadly, he succumbed to cancer in 2013. He was one of the bravest men I have known and all who had the privilege to know him miss him sorely. During the 1965 war, he was serving with 16 Cavalry in the Sialkot sector when his Centurion tank was hit. Jojo lost both his eyes but that did not deter him from leading a remarkably normal life in the service of our country ably supported by his wife. His elder daughter is married to a former army officer who too lost both his eyes in an anti-terrorist operation in Jammu and Kashmir. He too continues to serve the country in a different way. Such is the stuff of which heroes are made.
My salaams to the memory of a brave Naval Officer who gave his life for the nation. This story is but a small tribute to his memory.
Musings of 1971 Bangladesh War
Wg Cdr Vinod Nebb, Vrc & Bar
he dimension that is not seen is generally ignored. The
dimension in this context is the third dimension called the Air Force. Air Force is very quick, precise and decisive. The Indian Air Force (IAF) was deployed all around Bangladesh. There were three MiG 21 squadrons, four Hunter squadrons, three Gnat squadrons, one Sukhoi squadron and a Canberra squadron at Gorakhpur having joint headquarters with the Eastern Air Command. Pakistan had, at that point of time, only one squadron in East Pakistan. This kind of overwhelming superiority was required, as the Army had to be supported in a close air support role. The time available to the IAF was limited and it had to meet its objectives within that span of time. This was another reason why such kinds of forces were deployed to undertake various aspects of air warfare, which encompassed fighter, bomber, transport and heliborne operations. Coordination of operations was a major challenge but true to its tradition the IAF got down to achieving a series of objectives and did so effectively and on time, achieving air superiority on the first day itself. This was not an easy task; nevertheless the IAF accomplished it. The
Pakistan Air Force (PAF) was denied the use of their aircraft after 4 December and though they did manage to repair some and tried to operate in a guerrilla fashion, this too was short-lived. Thereafter, there was no enemy air power over East Pakistan.
By around 1900 hours on 3 December, through an All India Radio (AIR) broadcast, most of us at Hasimara got to hear that the PAF had carried out a pre-emptive strike on IAF airfields in the western sector and that a formal war with Pakistan on the west and eastern fronts had commenced. Since July that year, we had been training and anxiously awaiting such a moment, to be unleashed and ordered to go and make war on PAF and the Pakistan Army in East Pakistan. Sure enough, we were asked to report to the Flight Office two hours before sunrise. On reaching, we were told to put Plan A into action. This had the details of each strike along with the time. 37 Squadron commanded by Wing Commander SK Kaul was to strike Tezgaon and we at 17 Squadron, Commanded by Wing Commander N Chatrath was to strike Kurmitola. The very first offensive operational mission, launched early morning on 4 December 71, ex Hasimara, was a two aircraft (a/c) strike formation led by then Wing Commander Supi Kaul ( later the Chief of Air Staff), with Flying Officer Harish (Khape) Masand as his wingman.
Five minutes later, they were followed by a four a/c strike package, similarly armed with guns led by then Squadron Leader AW Lele (Flight Commander 17 Squadron) with Flying Officer SS Bains (Buster) as his wing man at No 2. I followed in the line-up for takeoff, as deputy leader of the formation with Flight Lieutenant KS Bajwa as my wingman at number four. All four of us together, in a broad front formation, were soon heading south at low level. Bajwa was tucked into my behind and to my left. Lele and Buster were similarly packaged about 1000 yards to my right. Our mission was to strike Kurmitola and degrade the airfield, making it dysfunctional. We were aware that Pakistan Combat Air Patrols (CAPs), F-86 Sabres, would be waiting for us. The only technology that we had those days to stay alive was ‘Eye Ball Mk- I.’ My eyeballs were out of their socket and rapidly scanning the sky all around me. As we approached Kurmitola, with the sun to our left and rising, I saw Supi Kaul’s formation ahead, returning from the strike at low level, a few hundred feet above us. Simultaneously, I also saw three Sabres
ahead of us on the right. Instinctively, I called out ‘Three Bogies, 2 O’clock high, 3000 yards closing in’
As per our training doctrine, I anticipated an instinctive hard right by all four of us in the formation, a turn right into the oncoming Sabres to take them on. Hence, I threw in an immediate hard right turn, with Bajwa sticking along with me with unspoken reflexes of combat pilots trained for such contingencies. For some strange reason, Lele and Buster were slow to react. At that instant, perhaps for a few seconds, Lele was yet to spot the enemy. Therefore, I allowed my nose to ride up in the turn and went right over Lele and Buster, and lost visual contact with them but I had Bajwa with me behind my left wing. The cloudless early morning sky was all around us, brilliant with myriad colours, I had no time or inclination to enjoy the rising sun. My eyes and brain was focused to keep the Sabre in visual contact. The three Sabres perhaps saw me pull up and turn into them. They had two Hunters going away but four of us coming into them. So, like all fighter pilots in a close quarter aerial dog fight situation, they perhaps split; it was the sound tactical thing to do. Perhaps two went after Lele and Buster. What mattered to me however was that one of them was hell bent on killing me. We started to jockey in time and space for the right shooting manoeuvre. I had to kill or be killed within the next few seconds; I had no other choice manoeuvre. After turning through 270 degrees, I spotted Buster and found a Sabre firing at him and he got hit. I saw smoke bellowing from his a/c so I asked him to eject. Split seconds later, I realised it was not smoke but fuel which was streaming so I transmitted again to stay with the a/c and head back to base. Despite our numerical strength, the odds were against us because we were sluggish and weighed down with external fuel tanks. However, we believed that the Hunter was a pilot’s dream in close combat. Both the Sabre and the Hunter had similar firepower, so it was a matter of who could first pull the sucker punch.
I continued to manoeuvre all over the sky, chased by the Sabre. The enemy, as well as us, we pulled incredible amount of ‘G’ that rushed the blood from head to foot and made us feel five or six times heavier than our body weight, our vision blurred. The enemy was as good as we were, or perhaps better. I was hyperventilating; I could hear my own breathing volubly in my earphones. I think my pulse
may have shot up two and half times the normal, the adrenalin may have been copiously released into my blood stream, all of it quite usual in dog fights, in practice and in deadly real life drama.
Hunters are well known for manoeuvring in the horizontal plain in the Indian Air Forces’ inventory. At that point in time, I failed to realise that the Sabre is far superior to us in turning. The advantage that I had over the enemy fighters soon started fading away. During the combat, I realised that it was not possible to win in a horizontal fight. In the meantime, the person who was firing on me head on had ball ammunition. I knew it would not do much damage to me. But to my utter disbelief my engine fire warning light came on and there was nothing I could do about it except throttle back and check my engine parameters at such a crucial time when I needed every pound of thrust I could get, yet had to reduce power for 10 seconds. At that time, the choice was to get shot down by the enemy or get blown up because of the fire. I chose the latter and decided to fight. After three scissors with one Sabre and the other attempting to fire head on, the task was not easy. Fuel was depleting fast so whatever was to be done had to be immediate. I then decided to posture in a colliding mode towards the Sabre that was descending on me. I projected my belly towards him as he was coming down onto me. The enemy Sabre did not know that I could see him and he felt that we were going to collide. To avoid collision, he rolled over to his left and I just rolled over behind him and shot him down. The game was over in a matter of 15 to 20 seconds. This was perhaps the longest aerial combat of my life and that too on the very first morning of the war. Having withdrawn from the area and being low on fuel to return to base, I decided to route myself Via Rupsi, an airfield in our territory. As I was approaching Rupsi, I checked with base whether I could come for a direct landing. Base informed me that Buster was on finals with an unserviceable ASI. Having full faith in his ability to land I set course for the base. Predictably he landed safely and did not block the runway. I too landed after him uneventfully and while taxing back to the dispersal I flamed out. On alighting, I heaved a sigh of relief as I had lived to fight another day.
My second mission, about an hour after we returned, was once again a 2 + 2 strike package led by Lele, a repeat of the earlier
mission, with the same pilots, this time to strike Tezgaon (Dhaka) airfield. The Hunter a/c sometimes would let you down by not starting but I never anticipated that it could happen to me also. To my utter dismay, my aircraft would not start, so Lele left me behind, with Buster as my wingman, to follow as soon as possible. Lele and Bajwa managed to strike Tezgaon without being bounced by Sabres but Bajwa was hit by ground fire and was recovered at Kumbhigram as planned. Because of the undue delay in repairing my Hunter, and as none other was available, Buster and I were then asked to proceed directly to Kumbhigram to join Lele and operate from there.
By 6 December, Lele, Buster, Bajwa and I had become a team and continued to fly together. Early morning on 6 December, we did another 2+2 strike mission with Lele leading in support of the army, to strike southeast of Dhaka. Due to poor visibility, we missed the target on the first pass. Much against my wishes, Lele decided to climb and make another run. We were bounced by two Sabres, perhaps assisted by ground control radar. We spotted them as we began our run-in. However, because we had by then begun to descend, we perhaps went into the ground clutter on the enemy radar and the Sabres perhaps lost visual contact. They broke off and went away. We continued with our attack and returned home safe. Rest of the day, and on the next day we did several more uneventful missions.
On seventh evening, four of us were once again at it, this time on an attack on Comilla Cantonment. Lele and Buster were to do the attack while Bajwa and I were to set up a CAP over Comilla to cover them. On target, while Lele and Buster went into attack, Bajwa and I circled overhead, 180° opposite to each other round and round exercising our eyeballs, looking out for Sabres. Lele and Buster left the target because of low fuel and I then asked Bajwa to cover me while I attacked and vice versa. As soon as I rolled in for attack, Bajwa called out “Sabre on your tail.’ Instantly, reacting out of conditioned reflex, I punched and jettisoned my outer drop tanks, pushed open the throttles to the gate, and commenced a hard left climbing turn. Still climbing, I saw an aircraft 50 yards ahead and slightly higher than me. I rolled out of the turn facing Northeast in the same direction as the a/c. He suddenly jettisoned his two
tanks and the tanks zipped past, so close that I had to put on bank to avoid them almost colliding with me. Thinking it was Buster, I took my finger off the trigger, though so close, in the fading light, I did not discern the distinctive contours of a Sabre. Then the thought occurred to me, that he had just two dropped tanks, Buster had four under his belly. This was a bloody Sabre! I began the chase a few seconds too late. The enemy seemed to have sensed danger. I think he bashed open throttle and the last I saw of him was he was diving and accelerating away from me. I lost him against the myriad colours and darkness of the ground in the fading light. It was such a close encounter, so easy a kill, but I lost the opportunity because I took a few seconds too long to make up my mind. It was his day, to live another day.
On 9 December, on one of the close air support missions, Lele and I were briefed to attack Barkal. The attack was to be coordinated with a Chetak helicopter acting as an airborne Forward Air Controller (FAC) to help us locate the targets easily once we reached the area. We saw that there were two hills with a river in between, going from north to southwest. The river had a prominent bend that took it around the hill. The enemy had fortified bunkers and gun positions right on top of the two hills as well as on the eastern bank of the hill in the north. We neutralised the gun positions, with direct hits from our rockets, and the bunkers by strafing with front guns. I was given to understand recently, that Major Pervez Musharraf was present there and was into ISI activity, supporting the Mizos and survived our attack. Perhaps his destiny was not to die that day, but to go on and become the President of Pakistan.
On one occasion, I was briefed thoroughly by the Ground Liaison Officer (GLO), with a very credible information and description of the target of an ammunition dump with a black top roof 400 yards opposite the Comilla railway station. On reaching the target area, we orbited, correctly identified the building and attacked it with rockets. Despite direct hits, all I managed to achieve was to make a big hole, but there was neither an explosion nor fire. Rather strange for an ammunition dump, I thought. While orbiting I saw that there was another black top building further away, on the other side of the railway station with what looked like ventilators just above
the ground. The rockets were finished but I decided to put a few rounds into this half-submerged strange building with ventilators. We strafed the building in the hope to put in a few bullets through the ventilators. To my utter surprise the whole building exploded, the debris narrowly missing me as I was pulling out of the dive. It was a job well appreciated and recognised by the Army.
On another ground attack mission, the Forward Air Controller (FAC) on ground asked us to fire on a low building with a large red cross on it. Though beset with some moral qualms, with great reluctance and insistence of the FAC we engaged the target. Once again, to my utter consternation, the building blew up like a gigantic napalm bomb and set fire to the entire neighbourhood. Apparently, it was a fuel dump.
On the evening of 12 December, I was asked to ferry an aircraft that was due for routine maintenance, from Kumbhigram back to Hasimara. Once in Hasimara, I was asked to stay put and continue operating from there. On 14 December, I went out for a close air support mission with Flying Officer Ranawat as my number 2. While returning after the strike, I saw a strange ‘Otter looking aircraft, painted grey and no country’s markings. Randy and I did several orbits, trying to establish its identity, even calling up ‘Eastern Control in Shillong. There were no FACs about and no sign of any army or battle on the ground. It was such an easy target for any fighter a/c to take on. I controlled my temptation and asked Randy what we should do! He, like any young fighter pilot advised ‘Chabalo Sir’! Once again, I was beset with moral qualms. I was aware that then Group Captain Chandan Singh had adapted an Otter with guns and rocket pods and had trained a nascent Bangladeshi air force that was doing clandestine operations deep inside East Pakistan. I had even seen it in Kumbhigram. I did not wish to shoot the good guys, even by mistake. Fratricide is a horrible cross to bear. Therefore, we turned away and returned to base. After landing at Hasimara, during debrief, the army GLO told me that the man I let go was none other than Lieutenant General Niazi, the ‘butcher of Dhaka.’ He used to visit his troops in this unmarked alc where they would block a stretch of road so that he could land. The a/c was then pushed under the trees to keep it safe
from the Indian ‘Hawks.’ Perhaps he too had a destiny to keep, to sign the surrender ceremony with General Aurora. This is one opportunity of my life which I should not have missed. It would have perhaps changed history.
The high point of the Air Force action came when Indian intelligence intercepted a message about a high-level meeting of the civil leadership, taking place at the Governors House. The attack had to be executed within the hour, of which 40 minutes was the flying time! Four MiG 21 aircraft of 28 Squadron based in Guwahati took off from the base and arrived at the target an hour behind schedule. However, the meeting was still in progress and the rockets fired ripped the massive roof of the main hall. The Governor, Mr AH Malik was shell-shocked and tendered his resignation with immediate effect. This proved to be the proverbial last straw that broke the camel’s back.
Relating the foibles of war, some live to tell tales, some do not. For my contributions in the 71 war, I got a bar to my earlier VrC. I went to the Hasimara Officer’s Mess bar to celebrate, when the surrender ceremony got over in Dhaka. I never got to fight any more battles, except in the bar, perhaps ‘bar bar’!!
4 Guards Crosses THE Meghna Maj Chandrakant Singh, Vrc
of any one single operation were to be cited as the turning point of
the Bangladesh Liberation War, the heliborne crossing in which the 110 and 105 Helicopter Units of the IAF transported 4 Guards over the Meghna River on 9 December 1971 would take that honour. Those magnificent pilots, airmen and their flying machines performed wonders far in excess of what could legitimately be expected of them. Throughout this and other operations, they displayed the highest levels of professionalism, airmanship and gallantry. But for them, we could not have achieved what we did and Dhaka would have remained a distant dream. However, here, I will tell the story as the Company Commander of A Company of 4 Guards.
We had harboured for the night at a village named Arhand on the Comilla-Brahmanbaria Highway effectively cutting off Pakistan’s 14 Infantry Division at Brahmanbaria from their other forces at Comilla. In the last seven days of almost continuous battle we had punched a wide hole in the outer crust of defences along the border, captured Akhaura and penetrated about forty kilometres deep and
cleared an area forty kilometres wide, creating a suitable launching pad for further operations. Early morning on 8 December, our Brigade Commander Brigadier RN Mishra came over to the unit and asked my Commanding Officer Lieutenant Colonel Himmeth Singh to accompany him to reconnoitre a possible crossing place on the Meghna River. Major Tuffy Marwah, with Charlie Company had been sent on a search and destroy mission a day earlier and reported on radio that barring light resistance, the area was clear of enemy troops. The Commander left with the CO and I was left in charge of the battalion. With me was Major Shamsher Mehta and his 5 Independent Armoured Squadron. At about 0700 hours, I got a call on my radio set that GOC 57 Mountain Division, Major General Ben Gonsalves wanted to speak to me. The General told me that he could not get through to either Brigadier Mishra or my CO and ordered me to move my battalion post haste to Brahmanbaria. I told the GOC that both the Commander and my CO had gone for reconnaissance and were outside my radio range too, and that I would move as soon as I contacted them. The GOC sensed my hesitancy to move the battalion in the absence of orders from my CO.
‘Paunchy,’ he said, referring to my code sign, ‘this is Ben’ (his code sign). Get your battalion to Brahmanbaria immediately and I will meet you on the Bridge on the Pagla River. I will ask the GSO1 who has a more powerful radio set at Divisional Headquarters to inform Himmeth.’
The GOCs orders left no room for doubt. I assembled the battalion and left a small party behind to apprise my CO and Commander of the latest situation. We then took off for Brahmanbaria mounted on Shamsher’s tanks and some captured vehicles. Shamsher now had 17 tanks, three more than his authorized holding. These PT 76 tanks had been captured at Akhaura. Shamsher’s men, after repairing them, got them on road and they were now a part of his Squadron. These same tanks had played hell into my Company a few days earlier when they, supported by two companies of infantry, one each from 12 Frontier Force and 31 Azad Kashmir Regiment had overrun one of my platoons and captured seven of my men. Now these tanks were a welcome addition to our force.
Brahmanbaria was about 15 km from Arhand but the PT- 76 is a fast moving tank and we got there in less than an hour. General
Gonsalves was waiting for us at the bridge, two spans of which the retreating Pakistanis had blown up. With the General was his ADC. helicopter pilot, Major Goraya, the Brigade Major of the Artillery Brigade and some other officers and men. It says something about the quality of our commanders that the first man in Brahmanbaria was the GOC himself. I was brought up on stories of Rommel and Patton and it was inspiring to see the same qualities being displayed by Indian Commanders.
The General was none too pleased with the Commander, 73 Mountain Brigade, Brigadier ML Tuli for not having closed in with the Pakistanis during the last twenty-four hours. Consequently, Brigadier Tuli was unaware that Brahmanbaria had been evacuated twenty-four hours earlier. It was only when the GOC flew over the town in his helicopter that he realized that the Pakistanis had abandoned the town. Brahmanbaria was an important objective for it was the headquarters of Pakistan Army’s 14 Infantry Division and 27 Infantry Brigade. The GOC ordered me to take the battalion into Brahmanbaria and clear the town, but that was easier said than done. The town was across the Titas River, the bridge was down, the river was not fordable and the tanks though amphibious could not carry the extra load of infantry whilst swimming across. We found some country boats, but they had no oars. Some of my men then swam across the river, and using bed lining and ropes, we managed to organize a ferry service, pulling the boats to and fro across the river. In about an hour, 14 Guards was on the far bank. Shamsher had some problem getting the captured Pakistani tanks across as these tanks leaked because of faulty watertight seals. I am not sure how he got them across as by then, I had taken off with my men. In the meantime, Brigadier Mishra and my CO had joined us and so had Tuffy Marwah and his company. They crossed the river a few kilometres downstream and also fought a few actions on the way to our rendezvous that morning.
We now fanned out and commenced securing Brahmanbaria. During our search of their Division Headquarters, we found the bodies of six jawans of 10 Bihar. They had been shot in the back of their heads with their hands tied behind their backs. We also saw the bodies of forty-four local Bengalis, probably Mukti Bahini, lying in
a ditch near the stadium. They too had been shot in the head with their hands tied behind their backs. The bodies were lying in the open and dogs and vultures had got to them. It was a horrifying sight, but that too is the reality of war. I pointed this out to General Gonsalves and he was furious.
‘When we capture Majid (Major General Abdul Majid, GOC 14 Infantry Division),’ said General Gonsalves, ‘I will have him tried by a court martial and sentenced to death for war crimes and violation of the Geneva Convention on treatment of prisoners’.
Alas, that was not to be as our political masters decided otherwise. We also recovered several top-secret documents, which indicated the haste with which the Pakistani Headquarter staff had abandoned their positions. These we handed over to the Division. I now expected 73 Brigade to take over the advance from us. After the first day of the war, they had been involved in a supporting role and had seen little action, whereas my formation, 311 Mountain Brigade had been involved in continuous fighting and needed time to rest and replenish our ammunition and food supplies.
General Gonsalves however, was not too pleased with the Commander 73 Mountain Brigade and so Brigadier Mishra was ordered to resume the advance to Ashuganj, about 20 km away. Ashuganj is a large town on the east bank of the Meghna, and is a twin to a still larger town, Bhairab Bazaar on the west bank. The Coronation Bridge, which was more than a kilometre long, linked the two and was the only bridge on the Meghna.
At about midday we resumed our advance, once more mounted on tanks. D Company under Major Kharbanda moved astride the road and I moved with my company (A Company) on the right flank, both mounted on Shamsher’s tanks. The rest of the battalion was in some civilian transport and captured Pakistan army vehicles. Our most prized and visible position was a red fire engine from the Brahmanbaria fire station. This was requisitioned by Major Tuffy Marwah of C Company who, donning a fireman’s shiny helmet, vigorously rang the bell and sounded the hooter to scare the Pakistanis, but more plausibly, just for fun.
We were subjected to sporadic shelling during the advance but the resistance was minimal until we hit the enemy’s screen position just short of the village Talashahar. A shell from an anti-tank gun landed close to the tank on which I was mounted, but fortunately did not explode. We jumped off the tank and then Shamsher assaulted the position with a troop of tanks and overran the enemy there. Kharbanda was not so lucky. In trying to clear the enemy, he charged at their machine gun position and received a burst in the upper leg; a few men also died in the heavy firing. Nevertheless, Second Lieutenant Rajendra Mohan and his troop of tanks, retrieved the situation by charging the enemy and clearing the position, otherwise Kharbanda and some of his men would perhaps have been killed.
We advanced another kilometre or so and as the light was fading, took up defensive positions. Getting into a street fight at Ashuganj was not a feasible option at night and we waited for the morrow. The enemy had 27 Infantry Brigade with the Headquarter of 14 Infantry Division and some other troops, totalling some 6000 soldiers here. More importantly, they had an artillery OP sited on top of a 300foot grain storage silo on the riverbank inside Ashuganj, from where he could observe and bring down effective fire for miles around. We dug our foxholes and settled in for the night. I went to the battalion headquarter which was located in a masjid, on the logic that the enemy would not shell it. That logic proved sound.
At the Battalion Headquarter, the CO’s batman miraculously produced some whisky. Colonel Himmeth Singh then told me that he had to meet Brigadier Mishra at six next morning at Brahmanbaria and I was to take charge of the battalion in his absence. After a welcome hot dinner, after subsisting for long on cold and wet shakarparas, I returned to my company. My Senior JCO, Subedar Makhan Lal, a veteran of the Second World War and the Kashmir War met me and appeared a bit agitated. He was always cool and calm and I wondered what could have upset him. His cause of annoyance was that four jawans from the Engineers, who were attached to my company had dug their foxholes next to mine, thinking that to be the safest place to be. He had just told them to dig their trenches at an alternate place, but they were none too pleased about starting all over. Just then, the enemy shelling on
my position started and we all took cover. When it ceased, Subedar Makhan Lal went round the company position to check up if all was well with the men. He however could not trace out the Engineer
boys. I told him to look for them next morning. Early next morning E I left for the battalion headquarter where the Adjutant, Captain z Vijay Dewan popularly known as Glucose met me and informed me E that the CO had left a few minutes earlier in a jeep.
As soon as there was sufficient light, I took a round of the battalion The forward companies were occasionally fired upon by small arms but as it was doing no damage, and we held our own fire not wanting to waste ammunition. When I went to my own company, Subedar Makhan Lal informed me that the missing Engineer boys had been found. When the shelling started, they had taken shelter in the foxholes they had dug near my trench. A shell landed there and they were blasted to smithereens, pieces of their bodies were strung up on the branches of trees around the trench. Indeed, in war, no place can be considered safe.
At about nine in the morning, I received a radio call from the CO, directing me to bring the battalion back post haste to Brahmanbaria and he would give further orders there. He told me that 18 Rajput and 10 Bihar from our Brigade and 73 Brigade were in the vicinity and they would in due course take over the area vacated by us.
I disengaged the battalion and we marched back to Brahmanbaria. I however had to shed Shamsher’s tanks, as they were to join 18 Rajput.
This constant marching to and fro much like the famous ditty about the Duke of York marching his men up the hill and then down again was getting to be a bit irritating, but as every infantryman knows, that is invariably the fate of the Poor Bloody Infantry. By about 1330 hours that afternoon we reached Brahmanbaria stadium which was our designated RV. The CO met us there and told us that we had been tasked to cross the Meghna and helicopters would be landing soon to take us across.
My reaction was immediate.
“Thank God sir,’ I said, “Sagat has chosen to give us helicopters to cross the Meghna. He believes the battalion can do anything; he could very well have told us to swim across the river’.
Regardless of the faith Sagat had in our capabilities, the miles wide Meghna was not within our swimming capability. We received new maps, which covered the area from Brahmanbaria to Dhaka and our next objective across the Meghna was the landing zone at Raipura. The preparations started immediately. We worked out the load tables, each helicopter carrying about fifteen soldiers and three or four Bengali porters who were carrying our extra ammunition. The men were warned about the tail rotor of the helicopter, a hit from which would be fatal. Fortunately, most of us had some experience of the Mi 4 Helicopters and this stood us in good stead. Whilst we were tying up loose ends, the helicopters started landing. At the same time, an unending stream of bodies and wounded jawans of 18 Rajput started arriving at the stadium. The battalion had met with a setback at Ashuganj after we had withdrawn.
In the next few minutes, fourteen helicopters were lined up in the stadium. All were without the rear doors of the holds to facilitate easy boarding and disembarking. Precisely at four in the morning, the first four helicopters took off to cross the Meghna. My Co, Colonel Himmeth Singh and I were in the first helicopter, piloted by Squadron Leader CS Sandhu, the Squadron Commander of 110 HU. Seated at the far corner of the hold was Group Captain Chandan Singh, the senior Air Force officer in IV Corps theatre. Both Colonel Himmeth Singh and Group Captain Chandan Singh had already reconnoitred our landing zone earlier in the morning along with General Sagat Singh and Brigadier Mishra. Their helicopters had been shot at on the way home and General Sagat Singh received a bullet that passed through his beret grazing his forehead. A lesser man than him would have been perturbed but Sagat being Sagat, it made no difference to him.
As soon as we were airborne two Gnat fighters flying Combat Air Patrol (CAP), provided us protection. We had the Gnats above and the wide Meghna below and with the noise of the rotors, the scene was akin to a scene straight out of a Hollywood movie, but we did not have even a box camera to record the event. In about fifteen
minutes we over Raipura and landed on our designated landing zone (LZ), each helicopter only a few meters from the other. Such was the skill of the pilots that even in the dark, with no or very primitive landing aids, not one mishap occurred. As soon as we landed, the troops took up positions to secure the area and Flying Officer DS Shaheed started to mark the LZ with wet wheat flour dough.
Before the second sortie landed, my CO tasked me to take a reconnaissance patrol to Methikhanda Railway Station, which was reported to be defended by a platoon of para military. I moved stealthily with my small party consisting of my radio operator, Ved Prakash and two men as protection. When we had gone about a kilometre, as if from out of nowhere, thousands of local Bengalis emerged, shouting ‘Joi Bangla-Joi Indira.’ In our earlier actions, the villagers would simply disappear but now sensing that the tide was firmly in our favour and the Pakistanis were on the run, the locals had taken heart and were emboldened to come out openly in our support.
The Bengalis are normally noisy people but when excited a Bengali crowd can perhaps be heard several miles away. All pretence at stealth was thrown away and the crowd carried the four of us on their shoulders to the railway station. The Pakistani soldiers at Narsingdi, a large town at about a distance of 30 km had fled earlier on hearing the sound of the helicopters, so we captured the objective without firing a shot. I informed my CO and he told me that he would soon send the rest of my company to link up with me along with D Company.
Young Surinder Singh was now in command of D Company as his Company Commander had been wounded a few days back. There is a saying in the army that nothing is more dangerous than a subaltern with a map and sure enough Surinder, leading both his company and mine, got lost. It should have taken him at most about forty-five minutes to reach me, but even after five hours, there was no sign of him. This caused me considerable anxiety because in the meantime we had got into a faceoff with some local Mukti Bahini boys who could speak Urdu as they were deserters from the Pakistan Army. The situation could have got out of hand and it took quite
an effort to establish our identity. Surinder finally turned up in the morning. It transpired that instead of depending on his compass and map he had relied on a local guide who took the troops to Bhairab Bazar instead of Methikhanda. Here, they contacted the enemy defences held by troops of Pakistan’s 14 Infantry Division that had withdrawn to Bhairab Bazaar after blowing up the bridge on the Meghna. The enemy reacted violently with heavy shelling and some of our men suffered injuries, but the episode had a positive outcome. The Pakistani’s thought that we had put up a large force across the Meghna to attack them. They went into a shell from which they emerged only on 17 December to surrender to General Gonsalves. In the meantime, C Company under Tuffy provided cover for 19 Punjab to cross over by ferry and it is 19 Punjab that contained 6000 troops of 14 Division until they surrendered.
With Pakistan Army’s 14 Infantry Division holed up at Bhairab Bazaar, the way to Dhaka was clear. On 11 December, 18 Rajput and 10 Bihar were helilifted to Narsingdi, which we had cleared earlier in the day. I played no further role in the battle as in the process of clearing the town, I was injued with a bullet in the leg. The show by now however, bar the shouting, was over. On the 12th evening we were in Demra three miles from Dhaka and our patrols accompanied by artillery OP’s had crossed the River Satyalakha. On the 13th, as we started shelling Dhaka Cantonment, General Niazi and the Governor of East Pakistan approached the United Nations and their own government in Islamabad, asking for an immediate ceasefire.
This was without doubt General Sagat Singh’s show; we were the tools that he used and Group Captain Chandan Singh and the helicopter pilots also deserve full credit for making the impossible possible. Without them we could not have done it. Few know that before the war, 4 Corps had been authorized to use these helicopters for a special mission to lift only one infantry company group of about 150 men. It was on the initiative of General Sagat Singh that in the course of the war, they had air lifted more than 6000 troops and 100 tons of stores – a truly unimaginable feat. Why these two helicopter units have till date not been given due credit for their actions and not been awarded the Presidential Colour remains a mystery. Few units are more deserving than these two.
The Meghna Crossing
Air Marshal Chandan Singh, MVC, AVSM, VrC
7fter the heli-lifting of troops at Sylhet, on instructions from
1 General Sagat Singh, I withdrew my force to Agartala on the evening of 8 December. When I reached Agartala, I was told to go to Brahmanbaria and meet General Gonsalves, the GOC of 57 Mountain Division. I met him at ten that night and discussed operations in his area. He told me that the Army had advanced on a wide front and had stopped at the mighty Meghna River. The Pakistanis had demolished the bridge at Ashuganj – Bhairab Bazar and it was not possible for their engineers to repair it quickly. The enemy had built up its strength at Bhairab Bazar to over two infantry brigades and artillery and other elements. He asked me if it was possible to launch an operation from Bhairab Bazar to Raipura, once again of a battalion group, to be undertaken immediately.
I flew back to Agartala and discussed the operations with my boys. By then, there were some new pilots who had arrived in Agartala and by midnight we had made our plans. I decided not to act in haste, but to reconnoitre the area first next morning. I found that the newly arrived pilots were not qualified for night operations and so Sandhu and Vaid were tasked to start their training that very night. On 9 morning I told the GOC that we were ready but that we
should undertake an armed reconnaissance first to get a bird’s eye view of the situation. In the meantime, the omnipresent, ubiquitous, dynamic and dashing General Sagat Singh had also arrived and he too decided to come along on this armed reconnaisance. We did a few orbits of Raipura and then decided on a helipad site for the operations that night. I emphasized that since the site was very close to the enemy positions of Bhairab Bazar, we should start late in the day and continue throughout the night to retain our element of surprise. This was agreed to. This time we had eleven Mi4 helicopters for the operation from Brahmanbaria to Raipura.
The operation started at 1400 hours on 9 December, wherein we lifted 4 Guards. The operations carried on throughout the day without any problems. We did 27 sorties by day and another 30 sorties by night. This time we were very well organised, technical staff and fuel had been brought forward from Agartala to Brahmanbaria and the turn-around time was considerably speeded up. While there was no ground fire, the concern for all of us remained of enemy counter measures against our forces. Bhiarab Bazar was very close and well connected by road and rail to Raipura. However, 4 Guards encountered opposition only on the morning of 10 December, after the heliborne operation was complete.
From the point of view of our pilots, the problem this time was landing on the treacherous terrain of Raipura, which was uneven, close to the riverbank and marshy. It was only the highest professional skills of individual pilots that enabled us to carry on without hitch. I was aware that the helicopters had been used continuously over the last three days and required respite and proper maintenance, but this was not to be. For the night landings in the vicinity of Bhairab Bazar we also had to improvise. To aid in the landings at Raipura, we decided to use wheat flour, both in its powder form and as dough to line the four corners of the landing pad and later painted it white to stand out at night. The paint also helped in preventing the flour from blowing away when helicopters were landing and taking off. We only used it for three or four waves and it served its purpose well. Later, we shifted our site to a place with better ground conditions. To do away with glim lamps, gooseneck flares and so on, we used hand held torches with shields on the on sides, to give unidirectional light.
After all, the enemy was well organised and only a short distance away. These measures helped the pilots in descending in a controlled manner. By 10 December the operation to heli-lift one battalion had been successfully completed. Nevertheless, there was to be no respite for the helicopters or their crew.
Early on 11 morning, General Sagat Singh and General Gonsalves contacted me and we met at the headquarters of 57 Division. General Sagat Singh was very happy with the success of the Raipura operations but said that this was no time to rest. It was now time to cross the mighty Meghna River in a big way and to get as close to Dhaka as we could. His plan was to airlift an entire brigade and an artillery regiment, entailing a total of 150 sorties, which meant that each helicopter had to do at least 14 to 15 sorties. While a human may undertake missions well beyond his limit of endurance, the machine might fail. I however, did not mention this to General Sagat Singh. Time was of the greatest essence and these considerations were for subordinate commanders like me to worry about. I brought the machines to Agartala and put them under a schedule of maintenance. In the meantime, the pilots and crew along with their Army colleagues were brought to Brahmanbaria for a thorough briefing. This time the loads were going to be different with guns being lifted. As the centre of gravity plays a crucial role in the helicopter, this was going to be a tricky operation where standard operating procedures were not going to be adhered to. This however was war and risks had to be taken.
On 11 morning I concentrated the aircraft at Brahmanbaria and the loading started. Earlier, General Sagat and I had reconnoitred the area and the General had selected the area. Subsequently, the Divisional Commander, Brigade Commander and the Artillery Commander had flown to survey the area. The place selected was Narsingdi, a large flat ground south of the road running to Dhaka and about three miles due southwest of Narsingdi itself. We had got used to these operations by now, except for the transport of artillery where the centre of gravity was unknown and the pilots had to continuously correct the aircraft using the collective and the throttle. This was taken in stride and there were no mishaps whatsoever. Sorties carried on continuously starting from a little before midday
on 11 and continuing till early morning of 12 December. At the end of this massive helilift operation in which 135 sorties were undertaken, a total of 1,628 troops were landed at Narsingdi with their arms, ammunitions, mortars, artillery and rations. While the pilots were ever willing to continue, the machines were now showing signs of fatigue. Three helicopters developed engine trouble and had to land en route. These were repaired at site and recovered within six hours of having force landed. It was a grand experience flying from Brahmanbaria to Narsingdi and we enjoyed its success. For if the troops would have had to move overland, they would have had to cross six watercourses en route to Narsingdi.
Using helicopters, we had enabled the whole of 57 Mountain Division in the Central Sector to take up positions just short of Dhaka on the Shitalakshya River. I now requested the Corps Commander for a temporary rest for the maintenance of the helicopters as the machines were at the end of their tether. However, General Sagat Singh was not one to let the enemy of the hook.
‘Chandan Singh,’ he said, “the war is on, Nixon has ordered the 7th Fleet to assist the Pakistanis, so let us get on with it.
So ‘get on with it, we did. The lifting of troops from Dodkhandi into the heart of East Pakistan started in the early hours of 14 December. The landings took place northeast of Narayanganj. We undertook 80 sorties by day and another 42 by night and like the operations at Raipura and Narsingdi, the enemy at Narayanganj was taken by surprise. There was no ground fire from the enemy, but due to sheer fatigue, two more helicopters literally dropped out of the sky. These were of course retrieved on the morning of the 15 December.
I am proud that our little band of gallant pilots were present to see the surrender ceremony. In fact, they flew in General Aurora, Air Marshal Dewan, General Sagat and others to Dhaka. In the words of General Sagat Singh, later echoed by General Aurora also in the Surrender Ceremony, ‘these little helicopters, the Mi4s, were worth their weight in gold.’
The success of the heliborne operations was mainly due to the guts, determination, perseverance and courage of the pilots. However, it
must be said that without air supremacy achieved by our fighters and fighter-bombers, this colossal task could not have been carried out. The helicopter has distinct advantages in achieving surprise, concentration of force and flexibility in planning. In the hands of a
good Army Commander, for placing his offensive punch at the right z place and right time, and withdrawing it without much damage, it ☺ is a weapon that can be used to the great detriment of the enemy. In
my considered opinion, the Army has a predominant requirement of integrating helicopters into their formations, during peace and in war.
Section 5 Surrender and After
1 Niazi Bested
Lt Gen JFR Jacob, PVSM
2 An Army Surrenders
Lt Gen Sagat Singh, PVSM
3 The Rescue
Col Ashok Kumar Tara, VrC
4 An Evening in Dhaka
Brig Onkar Singh Goraya
5 Peelkhana – Dhaka
Brig Onkar Singh Goraya
6 Silence was the Only Answer
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
7 43 Years Later: Revisiting the War
Lt Col Keshav S Puntambekar
Niazi Bested
Lt Gen JFR Jacob, PVSM
on 25 March 1971, the President of Pakistan, General Yahya
Khan gave orders for a crackdown on the people living in the East Wing. Operation Searchlighť, targeted the Bengali intelligentsia, academics and Hindus for the harshest treatment, and what followed was perhaps one of the most brutal repressions ever seen in history by any government against its own people. The massacre of innocent civilians took place on an unimaginable scale. I was witness to the refugees coming into India. It was a terrible sight. They were streaming in wounded, smashed and beaten.
Mrs Gandhi took great exception and on 31 March, the Indian Parliament asked Pakistan to transfer power to the Bengalis. On 29 April, we were told to assist the Freedom Fighters and the Border Security Force (BSF) in the border areas was placed under the army. It was then that I had a very strange visit from Mr Rustomji, the Director General of the BSF. He came to my house with a delegation and said that since the army has refused to move in, the BSF has been ordered to go and capture Dhaka. He had come to invite us for the victory parade!
I thanked him for his offer, but added that they had no capacity to take Dhaka and it would be better if he concentrated on building his reserves in the Sunderbans and the Chittagong Hill Tracts. The BSF however did move a Camel Battalion (sans the camels) inside Bangladesh. A few days later, I received a frantic message from its Commanding Officer (CO) saying that he was surrounded and tanks were being deployed against him. He wanted our help to extricate him. I knew there were no tanks in that area, so I asked him if my troops could reach him safely. He replied in the affirmative. In that case, I told him, he could come back safely on his own. That he did.
The Indian Parliamentary Resolution of 29 April affirmed India’s commitment to lend support to the Freedom Fighters. This however, was already being done. In fact, in early April I received a call from the Army Chief, General Sam Manekshaw.
Jake,’ he said, “The government wants the Army to move in to East Pakistan.’
“How,” I asked. “We have mountain divisions in Eastern Command. There are many rivers to cross in East Pakistan, but we have no bridges. The monsoon is about to break, our logistics are inadequate and we are short of vehicles. We need time to build up.’
Sam appreciated my assessment and said he would get back to me the next day. True to his word, he called up.
“The babus are saying,’ said Sam, ‘that the Army are cowards.’ The word “babu’ is referred to in this context as representing the members of the Indian Administrative Service.
I said, ‘Yes, tell them we in Eastern Command are cowards and we aren’t moving until we’re ready.’ Sam then asked me to send him a brief, which I did by hand through Brigadier Sethna. In a meeting thereafter held with the Prime Minister, General Sam Manekshaw made it clear that no operations could be conducted before 15 November. Key ministers, including those holding the portfolios of Defence, External Affairs, Home and others, attended the meeting. Despite rumblings from some of the ministers, Mrs Gandhi stood by Sam and accepted his professional military judgement. This speaks volumes of the Army Chief’s moral integrity and created the ground for the eventual victory in 1971.
We set up a number of camps for training the Mukti Bahini. There were eight camps to start with which were later increased to ten or eleven. We had one camp purely for officers. The Freedom Fighters were put through training and sent back to East Pakistan. There, the Mukti Bahini attacked the Pakistani security forces, harassed them and created an environment of fear throughout the Pakistan Army. They broke their morale and due credit must be given to them for their role.
We had no maps, other than those that were 50 years old, half-inch scale and bore no relation to the ground reality today. We needed maps and I requested the Freedom Fighters to get us some. They got us a complete set and I gave them to the Surveyor of India in Park Street, Kolkata. He told us that they could reproduce them, but could not transfer them to our grid. This was acceptable to us. These maps were printed in bulk and issued to the troops in October-November. We used Pakistani maps throughout the war.
Intelligence remained a matter of concern. Despite claims of India’s Research and Analysis Wing (RAW), the only intelligence we got from them throughout the war were two half pages. That is all. We needed intelligence. Army Headquarters had a signal intelligence unit in Bengal. I bid for that but the DGMI (Director General of Military Intelligence) had the cheek to say, ‘The Eastern Command is not competent enough to process RAW information. We will process and give it to you.’
That of course was not acceptable to us. I spoke to the Chief and the unit was placed under Eastern Command. It was the signal intelligence from this unit that gave us all the intelligence. We had no other source. Their contribution was tremendous and shall not be forgotten.
By the end of April, I made a draft plan and sent it to Delhi for approval. There was only one battalion in Tripura. This we sought to build up to a corps. We had already started building up the infrastructure and moved 30,000 tons of stores to Tura in Meghalaya, even before formal approval was accorded. 2 Corps had not yet been raised, but we still moved 14,000 tons of stores there. This was done through the monsoons. The capacity of the railway
lines was doubled and the Border Roads got into road building. When the war started, logistically, almost everything was in place. And logistics was a key factor in winning this war.
Operationally, our plans hinged around bypassing fortified areas and towns. In early August, the Army Chief, along with his Director of Military Operation, Major General KK Singh, came to the Eastern Command Operations Room and brought with them the draft operations instructions. At this time, the objectives given to Eastern Command were Khulna and Chittagong. The aim seemed to be to set up a Bangladesh Government in exile.
I told the Chief that we could not win the war without taking Dhaka. The Chief was of the view that Khulna and Chittagong were entry points and if they were taken, Dhaka would fall. This remained a point of difference at that time. As per the Air Chief, Air Chief Marshal PC Lal, ‘Dhaka at that time was never an objective, as it was considered not possible to capture. The war had to be short, as the UN would intervene. With these restrictions, the objectives were limited to get territory for a Bangla Government in exile. Once limited objectives were agreed to, each service did what it thought was best.’
There was friction between Sam and Lal, which resulted in weakened coordination. We sought a change in the air boundaries, as it was difficult to deal with two Air Commands: one in Allahabad and the other in Shillong. The Army demurred from interfering, but I spoke to the Air Chief who very pragmatically agreed to us only dealing with Shillong and on his own, gave Eastern Command an Advanced Headquarter in Fort William.
On 3 December, Pakistan Air Force bombed our airfields in the west. Mrs Gandhi was in Kolkata at that time and we issued orders for the offensive to go in as war had been declared. However, the war for us had actually begun not on the night of 3 December, but earlier on 22 November itself. The Pakistanis were shelling our positions and we sought permission to silence those guns. Government accorded approval to go in up to 10 miles, which we did. That was a very good thing because it allowed us to set up jumping off areas for the war.
The offensive went according to plan. We bypassed the cities and moved swiftly towards our objectives. By 13 December, within ten days of the operation, we were only 30 miles from Dhaka.
On December 10, we came to know that the American Seventh Fleet, which was stationed in the Gulf of Tonkin, was steaming into the Indian Ocean. This created consternation in India, especially in political circles. We then received a signal from Army Headquarters directing us to capture by a fixed time frame all the towns that we had bypassed. At this time, there was no mention of Dhaka. As this signal had been copied to the Corps also, we sent a message to the Corps Headquarters to disregard the signal from Army Headquarters and continue with operations as scheduled.
Based on an intercept received on 14 December, we came to know of a meeting being held at the Governor’s House. The Air Force, in a swift operation came over Dhaka and bombed the building while the meeting was still in progress. While all those attending the meeting survived, the bombs having hit another part of the building, the Governor in a panic resigned and thereafter took shelter in the Intercontinental Hotel, which had been declared a peace zone by the UN. That was the end of the government. That evening, General Niazi and Major General Farman Ali, who was a senior military advisor to the government, went to see the American Consul General, Mr Spivack, with the following proposal: ceasefire under UN supervision, handover the government to the UN, withdrawal under UN, no trials and no mention of India.
Spivack sent this to New York and it was given to Bhutto on the 15 December, who rejected it outright. That night, Bhutto was attending a UN meeting on a Polish resolution of the Soviet Bloc. He stormed out and said, ‘No question of ceasefire or surrender. We will fight on.’ India however, issued a unilateral ceasefire, which took effect from 1500 hours on 15 December.
On 16th morning, I received a call from the Chief. He said, ‘Jake, go to Dhaka and get a surrender.’ I said, ‘I’ve already sent you a draft. Do I negotiate on that?’
‘You know what to do. Just go,’ said the Chief.
As I was going down the steps, I found Mrs Aurora coming up and she said, ‘Jake, I’ll see you in Dhaka.’
“What!’ I said in surprise.
“Yes. My place is beside my husband,’ she said.
I went to see General Aurora. You can’t be serious taking Mrs Aurora to Dhaka.’
‘It’s my business,’ he said.
‘Who’s going to protect her? Fighting is going on there.’
“You,’ he said.
That was that. I took a helicopter and changed it at Jessore. At the helipad, a man came running to me with a signal. I thought the Army Headquarter had finally agreed to the draft I was carrying for the instrument of surrender. It was however something more prosaic. The signal stated, ‘The government approves of General Jacob having lunch with General Niazi.’ Who asked them in any case?
When I arrived in Dhaka, I was received by a Brigadier from the Pakistan Army and two representatives from the United Nations, Mr Kelly and Mark Henry. One of the UN personnel said, ‘General, we’re coming with you to take over the government.’
“Thank you, but no thank you,’ I said. The press was there in full force and all hullabaloo was going on. I got into a car of the Pakistan Army and we had gone but a few hundred yards, when Freedom Fighters opened fire on the car. I do not blame them as it was a Pakistan Army car. I jumped up and told them that I was from the Indian Army. They were keen to lynch the Pakistani Brigadier, but I told them that the Geneva Conventions were in force. “They are surrendering,’ I said. Please let us go.’
A Times magazine reporter was there and he reported that Jacob passed orders to shoot the Freedom Fighters. That was a figment of his imagination because I was unarmed and our group was not carrying weapons! Anyway, we moved on and arrived at
the headquarters of General Niazi. I met Niazi and read out the Instrument of Surrender to him.
‘Who said I’m surrendering? said Niazi. “You have only come for the ceasefire.’
Farman Ali then chipped in. ‘We will never surrender to your Joint Command,’ he said.
The conversation continued in this vein with my insisting on surrender and the Generals and Admirals present expressing their disapproval. The situation was getting nasty.
I was a little annoyed and pulled Niazi aside. ‘I have been talking to you for three days, I told him. “I have offered you terms that you will be treated with respect and under the Geneva Convention. We will protect all ethnic minorities and everyone. If you surrender, we can protect you. If you do not surrender, I wash my hands off anything that happens.’
I waited a bit and then added, “I will give you 30 minutes and if you do not agree, I will order the resumption of hostilities and the bombing of Dhaka.’ I then walked out of the room.
Once outside, doubts assailed me. “What have I done,’ I thought. ‘I have nothing in my hand. He has 26,400 troops in Dhaka and we only have 3,000, and that too thirty miles away.
For quite some time, I paced the veranda of the military headquarters in a city behind enemy lines. I was alone and unarmed. Minutes earlier, I had issued an ultimatum to surrender or suffer the consequences to the highest commander in the land. The other officers present with him had in no uncertain terms, voiced their extreme displeasure at my demand, but I remained unfazed. Logic was my sword, faith the shield. The fate of millions hinged on the reply of the enemy commander to my no-nonsense threat. Only I knew I had been bluffing. For me, this was a defining moment of my life. I used all my control to appear calm as I paced back and forth. I was completely alone. I wondered what would happen if he said no. Ceasefire was finishing and General Aurora was all set to take the surrender. I had no answer.
There was a Pakistani sentry outside and I went up to him and asked about his family. During World War II, I had served with the Pakistani military. They were Awans and this man was an Awan. He burst out crying and said, ‘You, an Indian General, is talking to us, but our own officers do not talk to us.’ The Pakistani officers evidently treated their men very badly.
I went inside after half an hour. The document was lying on the table.
‘General,’ I said, addressing Niazi, ‘do you accept this document?’
There was no reply. I asked him again and then I asked him for a third time. He still did not reply. I picked up the document and said, ‘I take it as accepted.’
There were grunts of disapproval from his Generals. I then called him aside and said, ‘General, you will surrender on the Race Course in front of the people of Dhaka.’
‘I will not.’ There was but a slight hint of resistance in his manner.
‘You will,’ I said. “I have already given instructions that you will and there is no question about it that you will surrender in public.’ I looked him in the eye and added, ‘You will also provide a guard of honour.
‘I have no one to command it,’ he said. His resistance was broken.
‘Your ADC is there. He will bloody well command it. With that, the conversation terminated.
This was the only public surrender in history. I have been asked why I insisted on a guard of honour. The story actually goes back to World War II. Immediately after the Japanese surrender, I landed in Sumatra and I was given a guard of honour by the Japanese garrison. I did not want to inspect it, but soldiers are soldiers, so I went and inspected the guard of honour. I thought it would be appropriate here too.
Gavin Young was the observer and he tagged along. He said, “Sir, can I copy?’ I said, ‘Yes do.’
He wrote a two-page piece on the surrender at lunch and he got a prize for it. He said, ‘There was General Jacob looking like the defeated General.’
It was true that I looked pale because I refused to eat anything. I was alone in a very hostile environment. Each one in that room was snarling at me and hatred spewed out of their demeanour. I did not want to eat with these people. They had laid out the silverware and the meal was laid out as if it were peacetime. They were shameless people.
After lunch, we got into Niazi’s car and drove to the airport. People were jumping on the car. They wanted to lynch him. We had a tough time controlling the people. Fortunately, there was a para jeep with two of our soldiers in it that was going sightseeing. We commandeered it and they let us follow it. We reached the airport and waited for General Aurora and his entourage.
While waiting for General Aurora, some Mukti Bahini personnel came up and in their midst was a man of Major General’s rank, who I recogized as Tiger Siddiqui. Siddiqui was coming towards us and I thought he had come to kill Niazi. That would have been catastrophic, for if Niazi was killed, there would be no surrender. I took the two para boys and put them in front of Niazi and told them to point their rifles at Siddiqui. I then went up to Siddiqui and told him to leave the airfield. He did so and I heaved a sigh of relief.
General Aurora landed with his entourage. We organized the vehicles and General Aurora, Mrs Aurora and General Niazi got into the last car. The ADC, who was carrying the documents sent from Delhi, and I had nowhere to go. The ADC got hold of a truck and we went to the surrender on the running board of the truck and just got there in time. The people were extremely hostile to Niazi. He signed the document and as soon as he signed it, the people made a rush to lynch him. We managed to get Niazi in a jeep and whisk him off. I moved back to India thereafter and wrote a report on the war and the final surrender.
An interesting observation in the Hamidur Rehman report, on the reasons for Pakistan’s capitulation has this to say:
General Niazi, when you had 26,400 troops in Dhaka and the Indians were 3,000, you could have fought on for two more weeks. The UN was in session and had you fought on for even one more day, the Indians would have had to go back. Why then did you accept a shameful, unconditional public surrender and provide a guard of honour?
I was blackmailed by General Jacob, who threatened us,’ was the | response of General Niazi!
We got a surrender of 93,000 troops, and India became a regional superpower and Bangladesh was born as a new nation. I must give credit to the people of Bangladesh who made all this possible. Amongst the higher Indian leadership, credit must go to Mrs Gandhi, who stood steadfast throughout and never wavered; to the Defence Minister, Jagjivan Ram, who gave us the wherewithal to fight as also to the Army Chief, General Sam Manekshaw, my Army Commander, General JS Aurora and General Inder Gill who was Director, Military Operations. Full credit goes to the Indian Army, who fought with great gallantry and courage. We had 1,426 dead and 3,611 wounded. Let us not forget their sacrifices. Then there were the Freedom Fighters, who did an excellent job. Lastly, but most importantly, it was the Bengali nation that rose up as one against the oppressor that played a major role in the war and achieved independence for themselves. To them, must go the ultimate accolade of victory.
An Army Surrenders
Lt Gen Sagat Singh, PVSM
Dy 15 December, it was clear to us that the Pakistani Army had
B cracked and that it was a matter of time and form, on how they would surrender. By that evening, 311 Brigade had got close to area of Gulshan Model Town next to Dhaka Cantonment and 301 Brigade was in the area of Adamji Jute Mills in Narayanganj. 101 Communication Zone Force (CZF), after the battle of Jamalpur, had also advanced rapidly and was at Mirpur Bridge over the Bhuriganga River and early next morning was at Kurmitola. The Pakistani Army in Dhaka was now hemmed in.
From 15 December onwards, we stopped aerial action and shelling of Dhaka to avoid civilian casualties and damage to their property. The International Red Cross (IRC) had declared three buildings in the city as neutral zones – the Intercontinental Hotel, the Holy Family Hospital and the Notre Dame College. These structures were easily identifiable because, besides their prominence, the IRC had put their logo on them. While the American and British missions had congregated their staff in their chancelleries under their flags, most other missions had taken shelter in the Holy Family Hospital and at the Notre Dame College. The Pakistan Army personnel, Dr. Malik’s
cabinet and some of the police officers had mainly congregated in the Intercontinental. My main concern was to avoid built up areas and find the Pakistani dispositions in the Cantonment. Care was required to avoid collateral damage, but at the same time, escape of important civilian and military personnel was to be prevented. That night, joyous shouts of “Joi Bangla’ resonated across the city, which gave an indication that the Pakistan Army had lost control over Dhaka. A surrender was expected next day, but that night I still positioned my forces at all key points, just in case the Pakistanis had a change of mind. On 16th morning at about 0930 hours, it became clear to me after listening to the communication between General Niazi’s headquarter and Headquarter Eastern Command that Pakistan had agreed to surrender and Major General Jacob was flying in from Fort William to arrange the modalities. By eleven in the morning, Pakistani troops at Sylhet and Mainamati, (which were still holding out) and the commanders in Dhaka, started making contact with their opposite commanders in preparations for surrender, as and when orders came from their higher command.
I was at the Holy Family Hospital when I received orders to proceed to my Corps Headquarter. I had shifted my headquarter to Comilla on the tenth, despite the fact that the Pakistanis were occupying Mainamati, the cantonment of Comilla, which was on higher ground in the Lalmai Hills. However, they did not expect our Corps Headquarter to be located so close to their defences so their never shelled it, despite it being in their mortar and artillery range! On arrival at Comilla, I spoke to the Army Commander. He informed me that the surrender had been accepted and that I should proceed to Agartala to receive him and his counterparts, Air Marshal Diwan of the Eastern Air Command and Vice Admiral Krishnan of the Eastern Fleet. He also told me that two planeloads of selected press correspondents would accompany his party. He added that though the direct route to Dhaka went via 2 Corps, they decided to come via my area as Khulna and Faridkot were still in Pakistani hands.
I had given orders to GOC 57 Mountain Division to occupy Dhaka airfield and the cantonment, then join me at Agartala by 1 O’clock. My aim was to occupy the entire area, including the civil area, before
the surrender ceremony. In the meanwhile, 95 and 167 Mountain Brigades of 101 CZF had moved up to the Dhaka Cantonment. Major General Nagra had established contact with Lieutenant General Niazi and arrangements had been made to receive Major General Jacob from Kolkata. I also positioned a squadron of PT 76 tanks at Dhaka Cantonment, getting them across the Meghna River, to ensure enough physical evidence of our strength in Dhaka.
I received the Army Commander and his two counterparts at Agartala Airfield at 1400 hours. We flew in ten helicopters, five Alouettes and five MI 4 to Dhaka Airfield. It was an eerie feeling, seeing the anti-aircraft guns still manned by Pakistani troops, alongside Indian troops and our PT 76 tanks. The runways had been bombed so we used the parking area and apron near the control tower, which itself had been badly shattered by our shelling, to land. General Niazi, Rear Admiral Shahid and Air Commodore Imam received us on landing. The scene that unfolded before us was remarkable. There were Bangladesh flags atop all rooftops and it amused me to think of the great business done by the tailors who had made those flags overnight!
The surrender ceremony was to take place at the Ramna Racecourse where Sheikh Mujib had made his final speech demanding a sovereign independent Bangladesh. It was a request from the Bangladesh Government in Mujibnagar, that for national and emotional reasons, the surrender ceremony must take place at exactly the same spot. The transport facilities at the airfield were insufficient for all of us, but we squeezed into whatever vehicles were available and proceeded to the Ramna Racecourse, five km from the Tezgaon Airfield. By this time, almost everyone knew the surrender was going to take place and the flight of 10 helicopters even warned those who didn’t know. The streets swarmed with people waving flags and cheering to the cries of “Joi Bangla.’ The ceremony was organised in the open, and two chairs and a table, taken from General Niazi’s office was all we had in terms of furniture. On arrival, a mixed guard of honour was presented to General Aurora, comprising of personnel from 2 Para and 4 Guards. The Pakistani Army also provided a guard of honour, but at this time, as there was great confusion in the command structure of the Pakistani Army, their guard of honour comprised
of whatever personnel could be gathered in a hurry. Most of them were from the Military Police, and Captain Nawaz, the ADC to General Niazi commanded the Pakistani contingent.
General Aurora and General Niazi then took their seats and General Aurora gave Niazi a copy of the instrument of surrender to read. General Niazi read it and accepted his willingness to sign the document. There were five copies in all and one by one, they were given to General Niazi. On receiving the first copy, General Niazi realised he did not have a pen. Mr. Surjit Sen of All India Radio gave his pen to Niazi, but in the excitement of the surrender, I am not sure if Sen got his pen back! General Aurora then signed the documents and thereafter asked General Niazi to hand over his pistol. I was standing behind General Niazi and I must say that though he appeared a broken man, he conducted himself with restraint and calm. The surging crowds now moved forward shouting slogans. While eager to shake our hands, some people surrounded General Niazi, calling him a butcher and killer of Bengalis, some even trying to spit on him. Since he had surrendered to us, his safety was our responsibility. Immediately, General Hira, General Gonsalves and I surrounded General Niazi and escorted him to an Indian Army vehicle, sending him to the safety of the cantonment.
There was great rejoicing and the Racecourse was filled with Mukti Bahini boys who had converged on to Dhaka. In the excitement of seeing the surrender ceremony, our entire helicopter crew also made their way to the Ramna Racecourse, leaving only one pilot behind at the airfield. The pilot suddenly saw a large number of Bengalis, some of them Mukti Bahini, converging on the helicopters. His presence of mind was very good, I must say, as he switched on the air-raid siren in the control tower. It was amazing that this worked and no civilians approached our helicopters, thus saving them from damage.
The Surrender Ceremony over, I got on to my next task. At Agartala where I received him, General Aurora told me that after the surrender, I was to stay behind at Dhaka and take charge of the emerging situation. I asked him for my charter of duties, but he said that as the fall of Dhaka had been so quick, he had not found the time to think and I was to do what was necessary. After the Army Commander left Dhaka, I had but a skeleton staff
comprising only my Brigadier General Staff (BGS), the Chief Signal Officer, 2 wireless operators and a wireless set. I had no transport. Just before leaving, the Army Commander said that a copy of the instrument of surrender had to be given to General Niazi as this had been overlooked. My first concern then was to locate Niazi and hand over the document. Fortunately, Rear Admiral Shahid was at the airfield and standing close to me for security from the Bengalis. I took advantage of this and asked him to take me in his staff car to General Niazi’s residence. Niazi was however not there. It transpired that after we had started shelling the Governor’s house on the 10th, his staff advised him to move out of the Flag Staff House. Thereafter, he changed his house daily to avoid detection.
I got to work with my skeleton staff as my Corps Headquarter was still in Comilla and there was no government functioning yet in Dhaka. Every decision had to be made by me unaided, as I had no civil staff or advisors with me. Another matter of concern was to gain control of the Mukti Bahini (MB), whose members had converged from all over the countryside. 2 East Pakistan Rifles under Lt Col Shafiullah was brought into Dhaka with his officers and other Bengali officers who had come with their troops. We asked them to talk to the MB boys to maintain order and not take pot shots at the Pakistani Army. There were hundreds of these young men, all armed to the teeth, who had no place to sleep or eat and were wandering around all over town. It was important to control their activities, their jubilation and excitement. I also established contact with the available Bangladeshi civil servants and police officers in Dhaka and directed them to carry on the administration. I told them to take this as an order on behalf of the Bangladesh Government.
My main concern at Dhaka was law and order. We had earlier obtained the tourist guide map of the city and made sufficient copies of the same. I then issued orders to 57 Mountain Division and 301 Brigade to take over various sectors based on the location of police stations. The troops were specifically ordered not to occupy vacant houses or ask for accommodation. They were to house themselves in police stations, open areas or in some cases in empty school buildings. That night, at 7 O’clock, Dhaka was blacked out, not because of any orders, but simply because the earlier routine was
being followed! It became difficult for us to move around the town and so I ordered my troops, wherever they were, to get into their harbours and stay there. They were not to patrol narrow streets and roads, as I did not want any skirmish between the Mukti Bahini and us or the retreating Pakistani columns, as at night, identification would have been difficult. That night, there was intense firing by the Mukti Bahini, but this was simply in celebration of victory.
Next morning, the population received our troops jubilantly. It was remarkable that no women, only men were seen out of their houses, all keen to shake hands with our troops and hug them, pressing Bangladesh flags into their hands as souvenirs. They were also requesting our officers to sign on Pakistani currency, that they would keep as souvenirs. I then held a conference in which General Niazi, Admiral Shahid and Air Commodore Imam were present and issued orders for regaining control over their troops. From the circuit house where General Niazi and I were staying, it took two hours to cover a distance of just over four km as everybody wanted to shake hands. We were in Niazi’s car and the driver was a Pakistani. The crowds simply ignored Niazi and shook hands with me. At the conference, we tied up the moves of the Army, Navy and Air Force personnel into the cantonment area. General Niazi also showed me a signal sent to him by India’s Army Chief, General Sam Manekshaw, assuring him and his troops of treatment strictly in accordance with the Geneva Convention. General Niazi told me that he had sent a copy of that signal to all his commanders, either on paper or over the wireless.
For security reasons, all Pakistani troops had been concentrated in the Cantonment at Dhaka and Kurmitola. Including staff and civilians, the strength was upward of 28,400 personnel. Perforce, people were accommodated on the roadside, which became a health hazard. Fortunately, rations were adequate, except for sugar and oil hydro. We also had to look after the patients in hospitals, get the communication networks functional, repair the Dhaka airfield and make Dhaka TV and radio operational.
I discovered that most of the senior Bengali officers such as Chief Engineer (CE) and Director of Radio and Television were in the Dhaka Central Jail and issued orders for their release along with
some political prisoners. The public however sought the release of all people in jail who were jailed by their captors. The jail authorities were unable to identify true criminals and in the excitement, freed everyone. Senior Bengali civil servants were extremely dedicated, particularly the CE, whose help we sought to repair the Dhaka Airfield. His sense of duty was so high that he didn’t even go to see his family, but went straight to the Dhaka Airfield with my CE, only requesting transport to collect his work force. He worked non-stop for 3 nights and 3 days, and only then, on the evening of the third day, he sent a message to his family to come and see him at the Dhaka Airfield and bring him some food. Such dedication by civil servants helped restore early order in the city.
Another concern was that the verges of the Dhaka runway were laced with anti-personnel mines. Pakistani troops had laid these in a great hurry as a precaution against an airborne landing, subsequent to our paradrop at Tangail. I requested General Niazi to get his engineers who had laid the mines to lift them, as my engineers would have to seek them out and in the process could suffer some casualties. I stressed that this was in their interest, as it would enable fresh supplies to be brought in for their troops and the seriously injured could be evacuated to our base hospitals in Guwahati and Kolkata. General Niazi agreed but his officers resisted, stating that under the Geneva Convention, POWs could not be employed in a hazardous task. A Monsieur Renaud of the IRC also arrived, waving the rules of the Geneva Convention. General Niazi however stuck to his word and ordered his officers to get on with it, which they did.
For the whole day on December 17 Pakistani army columns were pulling into the Dhaka Cantonment. It was comical in a way to see Indian soldiers driving civilian buses to transport armed Pakistani soldiers. I told General Niazi that I will hold him responsible for the discipline of his troops, and that his unit and sub-unit commanders must regain control of their men, after which their weapons would be handed over in an organised manner. On occasion, I had seen Pakistani soldiers withdrawing in an unorganised manner, throwing away their weapons as they did so. This had to be stopped to prevent the weapons from falling into unauthorised hands. Overall,
however, the Pakistanis were well behaved. The weapons were eventually surrendered on the 20th, without any major incident. We found a discrepancy of about 5,000 weapons. Through General Niazi, the Pakistani unit commanders were told to hold an enquiry, and the oft quoted reason given by the troops for the loss was that they threw the weapons into rivers and ponds while retreating. We thereafter searched the ponds in and around Dhaka and recovered a sizeable number of such weapons.
On December 17 at 8.30 in the morning, a Bengali gentleman came over to the circuit house where I was staying. He said he was the Political Secretary to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and that he was worried about the safety of Begum Mujib. He told me she was in the Dhanmondi area, under the custody of Pakistani troops. I asked General Gonsalves to send our own troops to the area and get the first family out. General Gonsalves had no transport of his own. He found a Pakistani army ambulance abandoned by the roadside, wired the motor and proceeded to find the nearest Indian force. The task finally devolved on Major Tara of 14 Guards who successfully accomplished the mission. Major Tara found Begum Mujib, her son and daughter with her infant child. They had been locked in a dressing room, as the Pakistanis, feeling exposed in their bunkers, had taken up positions inside the house (a single storied unit). The family only had water to drink from the December 16 afternoon until 11 o’clock on December 17 when they were rescued. Begum Mujib emphatically requested that we keep our guard at her house. We accepted her request and dispatched rations for the family from our depot. Soon her house became a pilgrimage for the local population. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had his own residence in Dhanmondi, but this had been shot and damaged on the evening of his arrest by the Pakistanis. That was the reason why Begum Mujib was not staying in her own house, but in a single storied house on Street No 8. Sheikh Kamal, the eldest son of Sheikh Mujib, who had come over to India with the rest of the refugees returned to Dhaka on either December 20 or 21 and thereafter was able to look after his mother and family.
At about 1100 hours on December 17, my formation commanders informed me that all Pakistani troops at Chittagong, Sylhet, Mainamati
and elsewhere had surrendered. I was however concerned about the enemy troops at Bhairab Bazar numbering about 6,200. This included the Headquarters of Pakistan Army’s 14 Division including its Commander Major General Kazi Abdul Majid, the divisional artillery and 27 Brigade. Guarding them was the Indian Army’s 19 Punjab, down to three companies. To prevent any incidences, I thought it prudent to get Majid, who had the reputation of being a difficult person, to Dhaka. When our troops had captured his well-fortified Headquarter at Brahmanbaria, we found the bodies of four Indian soldiers of 10 Bihar there. They had been captured in the battle of Akhaura. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they had been shot dead. Since our troops were on the heels of the Pakistani’s, the bodies of these men were still warm. I detailed General Gonsalves to take the surrender. An officer of 19 Punjab contacted General Majid and asked him to give a location for a helipad at Bhairab Bazar where he would surrender and then be taken to Dhaka. Majid did not want to be seen surrendering in front of his troops and he gave a location a mile and a half away from the position of his troops. This was not accepted and finally he gave a location about a kilometer from the Bhairab Bazar position of his troops. He perhaps felt ashamed that one under strength infantry battalion of the Indian Army contained his sizeable force and that he had failed to appreciate that we could not possibly attack him when Dhaka lay ahead of us within our reach.
By the evening of December 17, things had become normal to the extent that for the first time, women appeared on the streets along with their families. The fear of the Pakistan Army had been overcome, and some came out for the first time in months. We also found that most of the transport used by the Pakistanis was commandeered – cars, trucks, jeeps and so on. Through the Deputy Commissioner, a Bengali who had stayed at his post, identification of the owners was established and most of the transport restored to their rightful owners. That evening, Dhaka Radio also came back on air, though it was only used to make important announcements. Dhaka TV also started functioning and the overseas communication services were restored on a trial basis. Next day, by evening, Dhaka’s cycle rickshaws appeared on the roads for the first time and a few shops also opened. It was heartening to see these rickshaws in their various hues and colours plying on Dhaka roads. Earlier in the day,
the heads of the diplomatic missions contacted us to enquire about their personnel in Chittagong and an odd one in Sylhet. Some of the consulates were short of food and petrol and this was provided. Protection was also provided where requested. The system of law enforcement was functional through our Brigade Sectors, Battalion sub-sectors and Company sub-sectors. On our patrols, particularly at night, the civilian police personnel accompanied our troops, to ease the language problem and aid in identification. Among other things, we had to persuade the MB not to roam about at night. At this time, a number of eminent Bengalis approached me saying that the shops were not opening as they were uncertain what the legal tender was and wanted to know the status of the existing Pakistani currency. The poor who could not stock supplies were in need of these shops, so I made a spontaneous decision that the Pakistani currency would be legal tender until further orders. At six that evening, I reported to Headquarter Eastern Command that Dhaka was returning to normal. Up to this time, my communication with Kolkata was only through Morse code over a portable wireless set. We found that the Pakistani Army had four transmitters, one working towards Karachi, two to Rawalpindi and one to Islamabad. My Chief Signal Officer, Brigadier Sandhu sought the cooperation of the Pakistanis and by the evening of December 18, we were able to beam one transmitter to Calcutta. By midday of 19th, we beamed another transmitter to Delhi.
On December 18, we also took charge of the Pakistani supply, fuel, ordnance and ammunition depots. Our doctors moved into the Dhaka Military Hospital, which was still manned by Pakistani doctors and nursing orderlies. Our sick and wounded were also at this hospital. Both sides worked well together, even though the majority of the doctors and nursing orderlies were from the Pakistani Army. It must be stated however, that our dealings with the Pakistanis were through their commanders, and all our instructions were passed through General Niazi, down the chain of command. We gave no direct orders to Pakistani troops or subunits. By this time it had become clear to me that the Governor, his cabinet and their families had to be taken out of the Intercontinental hotel to some safe place. The sense of revenge still prevailed; it was a difficult situation as the Mukti Bahini were our friends and
the best we could do was to use persuasion to prevent them from attacking their erstwhile tormentors. Therefore, on the afternoon of 18 December, I personally met Dr. Malik and the Chief Secretary in a bid to relocate them to ensure their security. I had to go through the service entrance to avoid the foreign press. The only safe place was the Cantonment, but they were reluctant to go there, as they did not want to be near the Pakistani Army. Eventually, however, they agreed, on condition that the Indian Army protected them.
By 2000 hours on December 18, the Pakistani commanders reported that they had sorted their units and sub-units out, and were in a position to handover weapons in an organised manner. The surrender of weapons formally took place the next day at 0900 hours Copies of the Geneva Convention were also distributed to the Pakistani commanders in Dhaka. Copies were also flown out to be given to the senior most Pakistani Commander at each location outside Dhaka.
The Army Commander also visited us that day and I gave him an assessment of the situation. He stated that reports were pouring into Delhi that the situation was still not under control and that Dhaka was close to disorder. To set at rest any such misapprehensions, I drove the Army Commander around where he saw for himself that Dhaka had returned to normal. That evening, however, he called up and said that New Delhi was still not convinced and that our reports were not quite correct. This worried me, as all my reporting was truthful and faithful. In my last report, I had said that the situation in Dhaka was near normal and I wondered which agency was communicating the exaggerated reports. Eventually, it occurred to us that it might be the UN radio network between the Chef De Mission Mr. Paul Mark Henry and New York that was giving out such reports. I contacted Mr Henry through the IRC and discovered that he, with a staff of 16 was in the house of the radio officer, a Filipino. They had locked themselves in and were transmitting ý arbitrary reports every four hours, saying that they were under tremendous mental strain and required immediate evacuation. Mr. Henry reluctantly opened the door when I went to the house where they were staying. I told him that I was prepared to take him to any part of Dhaka to show him that there was no chaos. He asked
about the firing at night and I told him it was simply celebratory fire by the civilian population, much in the manner as had happened in his own country after WW II. He requested that he and his staff be evacuated to Kolkata, so that they may go to their respective countries and be with their families in time for Christmas and New Year. He also stated that a request had been made to the UN to send an aircraft and it was expected from Malaya. Later, a chartered aircraft sent by the UN landed at Kurmitola where the runway was cratered and broke its undercarriage. I sought permission from Delhi to send the UN personnel on our aircraft and they finally reached Kolkata on December 21.
By this time, we also recommenced the plying of steamer boats. We overcame the apprehension on the part of the owners by providing protection to all steamer ghats around Dhaka. The Deputy Commissioner of Dhaka, a Bengali also contacted us and sought our cooperation to move some rations and civil supply stores lying at the steamer ghats at Chandpur and Narayanganj, to Dhaka. We had the stores lifted by steamer from Chandpur and by military transport from Narayanganj.
We finalised plans for the evacuation of prisoners on December 19. Sanitary facilities for the large body of troops were minimal and eventually supplies too would run out for the 28,400 Pakistani prisoners in Dhaka. We planned to evacuate them by train as far as Narayanganj, then by steamer on the Meghna, up the Ganga to the ghat at Khulna and thereafter by train into India. Through the efforts of Rear Admiral Sharma, Chittagong harbour was cleared of mines and the port opened. This helped in the transportation of prisoners by sea to Kolkata. Prisoners at Sylhet were taken by road to Shillong and then via Guwahati to the various POW camps. As all the bridges had been blown off, the prisoners were constantly ferried across rivers and then transferred to road transport. The POWs at Bhairab Bazar, 6,178 in number, were sent by steamer to Narayanganj and then by train on to India.
We had received reports from Group Captain Khanka, who was now the Chief of the Bangladesh Air Force, that after they had taken over the air assets from the Pakistan Air Force, expensive watches issued to Pakistani pilots were missing. He requested a search be made
of the prisoners to recover the items. The Deputy Commissioner expressed similar concern. He told us that the Pakistan military, especially their officers had looted a large quantum of gold, silver and currency from the civilians and the prisoners could be carrying this booty with them. We accordingly made arrangements for both Air Force personnel and civilian officials of Bangladesh to be present when the Pakistani prisoners were searched. The searches yielded a few watches and stores, which were returned to the Bangladesh Air Force. However, nothing much of value was found from the prisoners. We later came to know that the Pakistani officers sent looted cash back home by telegraphic money orders. In the case of gold and silver, wounded soldiers being evacuated on the 3 to 4 daily flights to the West Wing, carried parcels containing such items and posted these at the nearest post office in West Pakistan. More often than not, the soldiers were told that these were small presents, particularly for their children.
On December 19, I requested my Army Commander that General Niazi, Admiral Shahid and Commodore Imam be sent to India on security grounds, as I apprehended that the Mukti Bahini might attempt to shoot them. This request was accepted and on morning of December 20, I was able to send these commanders and their personal staff to Kolkata and felt rather relieved. The same day we commenced the de-induction of our units. We started with the artillery units, which had begun their preparations for moving back to India on December 15 itself. 167 Brigade and 101 CZF also moved out to India on December 20. On December 21, the advance party of the Bangladesh Government comprising the Chief Secretary (designate) and Inspector General Police (designate) arrived in Dhaka. I was happy to see them, hoping that they would stay and take charge of the civil administration. However, they said they had just come for the day to organise accommodation for the ministers coming in. By this time, the runway was ready and there were 3 to 4 flights daily between Dhaka and Kolkata. Eventually, on December 25, the Bangladesh Government arrived amidst great jubilation in Dhaka. The airfield was very, very crowded and it was a truly rewarding experience to see the happiness and joy, which prevailed that day.
Two interesting incidents that occurred during this time relate to the activities of the Naga and Mizo insurgents. A missionary approached us through the British Deputy High Commissioner and provided information of four Naga hostiles in a church mission compound. We surrounded the mission and captured the self-styled General Midlav, the commander of the Naga underground army. He had a self-styled Brigadier with him along with a political commissioner and another Naga. They were flown to Sylhet and handed over to 8 Mountain Division. The division was due to move back to Nagaland to resume their counter insurgency operations against the Naga rebels and this capture would assist them in their task. We also found that most of the Mizo leaders including Laldenga were at Rangamati in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. The Inter-Services intelligence (ISI) of the Pakistan Army provided them shelter, arms and finances. Laldenga and his men however escaped, sneaking out in country boats on the nights of December 14 and 15 to Southern Mizoram.
We did what we could to restore order in Dhaka in the shortest possible time, but in retrospect I feel that we were not fully prepared in the initial stages after the surrender in Bangladesh to deal with the situation. I should have had properly organised teams of Bengali civil and police personnel, who should have been sent along with me to take direct charge. That notwithstanding, my formation commanders did a tremendous job, despite being handicapped not knowing the area or the language, and having limited transport. We achieved what we did because of the co-operation of the local civil population. Their assistance and cooperation resulted in the early return of normalcy. The Government of Bangladesh arrived on December 25 and once again, there was great jubilation in Dhaka. It was a truly a rewarding experience to see.
The RESCUE
Col Ashok Kumar Tara, Vrc
C hen I went to bed on the night of 16 December 1971, I thought UW that the war was over. Lieutenant General AAK Niazi, the Commander-in-Chief of all Pakistani Forces in East Pakistan had surrendered to Lieutenant General Jagjit Singh Aurora of the Indian Army, bringing to an end the war, which began on 3 December. My battalion, 14 Guards, was at Dhaka, tasked earlier to secure the airport and ensure the safety and security of all the VIPs coming to witness the surrender ceremony. We had implemented all relevant protocols to secure the perimeter and the security was as fool proof as it could be. However, fate had much more in store for us.
On 17 December, while I was reviewing the security arrangements, my Commanding Officer (CO), Lieutenant Colonel VN Channa, hastily summoned me. It was nine in the morning and presuming that the summons had something to do with security arrangements for departing VIPs, I proceeded post haste for the meeting. The CO looked grim when I met him. Without much ado, he got on to business.
‘We have credible evidence that Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s family is under house arrest,’ he told me cryptically. ‘His wife and children
are presently being guarded by a contingent of Pakistani troops. Your job is to get her back safely.’
The information had been provided by a Mukti Bahini Jodha (warrior of the Bangladesh National Liberation Force) and was credible. The situation was sensitive and prompt action was required to diffuse a potential threat to the life of the imprisoned family. With a Mukti Bahini Jodha as my guide and two Guardsmen to support the rescue endeavour, we moved quickly to the location. About a hundred yards from the house where the first family was detained, we met some locals who told us that the soldiers guarding the premises were trigger happy and armed with automatic weapons. They drew my attention to a bullet-ridden car nearby and a corpse lying in a pool of blood. ‘Be careful,’ they pleaded, “the soldiers fire without provocation.’
We were four against a heavily armed enemy that was well entrenched behind sandbagged bunkers, and whose strength we did not know. A head on charge was certainly not feasible and there was no other approach to the building. Nevertheless, the task had to be done. And done quickly. Instinctively, I decided to tackle the situation psychologically and get the enemy soldiers to surrender The chances of success were slim, but time was of the essence and there weren’t too many options to play with.
I handed over my weapon to one of the soldiers accompanying me and instructed the group to stay back with the locals. Unarmed, I slowly walked towards the confinement. Upon reaching the bulletridden car, I hailed my Pakistani counterparts.
‘Koi Hai’ (anybody there), I shouted.
There was no response. I waited a while, and then cautiously moved forward.
‘Halt, or I will shoot.’ A Pakistani soldier on top of the roof shouted out the order in Punjabi.
I was about ten yards from the main entrance of the house. The gravity of the situation was not lost on me as the difference between life and death was just the press of a trigger. The irony of the
circumstances was also quite apparent. The Pakistani Army had surrendered, but here was a bunch of armed soldiers from that very same army, in whose custody was the family of the most important political leader of the newly created state of Bangladesh. Moreover, their soldiers had their weapons trained on me.
I looked up at the soldier and spoke in Punjabi, a language in which I was thankfully fluent.
‘I am an officer of the Indian Army, in uniform, standing unarmed in front of you,’ I said in a measured tone, but with all the authority at my command. ‘The war is over. Your Army has surrendered and I command you to lay down your arms.’
The Pakistani soldier seemed unconvinced. A tense pause ensued, which seemed like eternity. Then miraculously, at that very moment, an Indian Army helicopter flew overhead.
“See that helicopter,’ I said. “The Indian Army is in full control of Dhaka. I repeat, your army has surrendered. Lay down your arms.’ The seed of doubt now entered the enemy soldier and he sought time to speak with his command.
“That is not possible,’ I told him. All your officers are prisoners of war and the communication grid is offline.’ All this while, I steadily paced myself towards the enemy’s position at the gate of the house. Suddenly, a woman’s loud scream for help broke the silence.
‘If you do not save us …they will kill us.’
My fears of Pakistani intentions were now confirmed. Not wanting to give the enemy time to consider their alternatives, I moved the last few steps forward to the main entrance, right up to the young Pakistani soldier on guard. Then I moved another step and felt the cold steel of the bayonet of his rifle, pressed under my right ribcage. His trembling hand and his jittery finger on the trigger of his rifle, was an unmistakable reminder of the delicate position I was in. Obviously, he had never been in such close vicinity to his adversaries.
I looked the soldier in the eye. Your army has surrendered,’ I told him softly. “The war is over.’ Then I gently pushed the barrel away
from my body. I knew my message was having the desired effect, so I played my final trump card in an emotional salvo.
‘You have your families back home, awaiting your safe return,’I said. “The Indian Army has committed to send you back safely. Surrender to me and I assure you protection and safe return to your homes. If
you do not surrender, you will face certain death at the hands of the 3 Mukti Bahini Jodhas.’I paused for effect, and then continued with a
firm voice. ‘Choose now… Do you want freedom… or do you want a slow brutal death.’
The enemy capitulated and surrendered. Immediately, I rushed in and pushed the doors open to secure the family and mitigate any chances of any possible foul play. Begum Mujibur Rahman embraced me in relief. With her were her daughters Sheikh Hasina and Rehana and some other relatives. The period of captivity was over. The dozen odd armed Pakistani guards were then taken into custody.
‘God has sent you to save us… you are like my son,’ she said in an emotionally charged voice. ‘I want you to stay back and meet Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.’
After the release of the first family, Mr Khokha (a relative of the family), drew my attention to the Pakistani flag flying atop the building. I immediately went up and removed the Pakistani flag, replacing it with the national flag of Bangladesh. Begum Mujibur Rahman then stamped her foot on the Pakistan flag and proclaimed loudly, “Jai Bangla.’ The surrounding crowds cheered the family on and chanted the same.
The Bangabandhu had not yet returned to Dhaka, but I got an opportunity to meet him before we left the country. He was most gracious and expressed his gratitude for my role in saving his family. Almost 41 years since this battle of Wits and Guts,’ on 20 October 2012, the Bangladesh Government led by Sheikh Hasina, invited me to Dhaka to confer the award of the ‘Friend of Bangladesh Liberation War Honour. This was a humbling experience for a mission accomplished over four decades earlier.
An Evening in Dhaka
Brig Onkar Singh Goraya
T hen we learnt about the unconditional surrender by General UW Niazi, I was at my command post at a place called Barpa, a few kilometers east of Dhaka. The ceremony was to take place at Ramna Race Course at 4.30 pm on 16 December 1971. I was the Brigade Major of 57 Mountain Artillery Brigade at that time and was determined to witness this historic event. All that was available to me for transport was a farm tractor and trolley, and using that, my colleague, Captain Verma and I set off on what was to become an unforgettable adventure. Between Dhaka and us, however lay the formidable Sitalakhya River, a broad expanse of water over a kilometer in width. There was a ferry for crossing the river, but it had drifted down river towards Narayanganj as the non-Bengali crew had deserted without mooring the ferry. It was nearing four in the evening when Verma and I finally managed to get hold of a country boat to ferry us across. In the meantime, we had helplessly watched as a stream of helicopters passed overhead, heading towards the Ramna Racecourse. The boat ride was pleasant and as we neared the far bank, I wondered what we were to do for transport at the other end. Here, fortune finally smiled at us. There, as if waiting for us, was an empty Toyota jeep, with key and
sufficient fuel, abandoned by some Pakistani paramilitary unit. It was past half past four by now, but we set off for the racecourse on the slim hope that the surrender ceremony had somehow been delayed. As we drove through the defensive positions, prepared by the Pakistan Army on the western banks of the river, we saw a few soldiers moving away quietly and in an orderly manner, perhaps falling back to their parent units. It seemed the orders to surrender had permeated down to all detachments as none of them intervened or fired at us.
On entering the bowels of the city, we found the roads thronged with people and vehicles. It looked as if the entire population of Dhaka had descended on the roads to celebrate. Reaching the venue now appeared to be an exercise in futility as we crawled through the mass of people, constantly asking for directions. After some time, we gave up the effort and just drove aimlessly, soaking in the atmosphere. Perchance we reached the Hotel Intercontinental, one of the ‘safe houses for dignitaries and foreigners. Hoping for a quick cup of tea, we entered the hotel, but the manager requested us to leave our weapons outside as the place was ‘neutral and no weapon zone’. Leaving our weapons outside was not an option and as it was improper to throw our weight, we quietly left the place.
Resuming our drive around the city, while passing through a narrow road, we found our way blocked by a Volkswagen, stalled in the middle. The occupants were a family – a middle-aged man, two burqa clad ladies and two children. On seeing us, they panicked, expecting to be abused or worse, as was the wont of the Pakistani Army. The man begged us to be patient while he tried to push the car aside, helped by the womenfolk as well as children. The events had moved too fast for the populace to shed their dread of the Pakistan Army. We calmed their fears and offered to help restart their car. After tinkering about for a bit, we gave up the effort and offered to drop the family at their residence. They were taken by surprise at the offer, but gratefully accepted the same. On reaching the house, they insisted we come in and share what was left from the Eid celebrations of a few days earlier. We accepted their hospitable gesture and soon the neighbours too poured in, bringing whatever dishes they had, mainly sweet pudding of vermicelli. Every one
treated us like celebrities and requested for our autographs. Relief and gratitude could be read on every face, emotions over flowed the language barrier. We felt humbled when two girls picked up glass tumblers from which we had drunk water and drained them empty.
After an emotional leave taking, we hit the road again to join the multitudes of celebrating humanity. People were carrying posters, banners and cut outs of Sheikh Mujib and Indira Gandhi, shouting slogans, hugging each other and Indian soldiers wherever they found one. At one place, two college students stopped us for autographs. In return, we asked them where we could have a good cup of tea. One of them, Ahsan, insisted we come to his home. Ahsan had an affluent house, located in an up-market colony. He showed us into his plush drawing room. After two weeks of living in the open and sleeping in haystacks, I felt rather out of place. While awaiting tea I used the toilet to dust away the muck from my face and uniform so as not to sully the sofa seats. I also availed of the plentiful supply of deodorants to mask my body odour. Over tea, Ahsan narrated briefly the hardships the local population had gone through in the preceding nine months. What he told us about Pakistani brutality against the Bengali population corroborated the stories put out by the Indian media, in the months preceding the war. Ahsan then guided us to Hotel Purbani, the second best hotel in Dhaka. We promised to meet some time in the future and have dinner at his place. At the hotel, we got a simple meal of rice and fish curry and a room each to spend the night.
Tired to the bone and drunk with the heady events, sleep poured over me the moment I hit the pillow. Close to waking hour while still floating on the ocean of sleep, I felt I was on a strange island. In a gesture of welcome huge crowds of locals carried me on their shoulders and sat me on a throne. Ignoring my protests they crowned me as their king. I woke up with a jerk and tried to catch the hazy vision but it drifted beyond reach. With some difficulty I was able to sift fact from fiction.
I got up next morning, fresh as dew. It took some time to realize that the happy events of the previous day were a reality, not a dream. There was a telephone on the bedside table and a thick directory beside it. I wanted to tell the whole world that the war was over and
I was in Dhaka in the midst of it all. I settled on simply informing my wife. My family was living in the military quarters in Jalandhar Cantonment and we had no telephone, but my wife’s cousin living in Delhi had one and I remembered her number. I knew that India’s Eastern Army Command had patched up the telephone connection between Calcutta and Dhaka. From the directory I looked up the number of the Dhaka army exchange and dialed, hoping the exchange was functional. To my surprise, there was an immediate response.
‘Army Exchange, sir.’
The tone of the operator was unmistakably Punjabi. ‘Who is that?’ I asked in Punjabi after identifying myself. “Are you Pakistani or Indian.’
Prompt came the reply, ‘Sir tuhade bande aje aae nahin. Aseen Pakistani chalaa rahe aan’ (Sir your people have not yet arrived. We Pakistanis are managing the exchange so far).
War does bring out the strangest of ironies!
My call to Delhi was soon connected and I informed my sister-in-law about my well-being and asked her to somehow convey the same to my wife. After a simple breakfast, we left the hotel in search of our unit. It struck me then that we had absented ourselves without leave to spend a night in Dhaka. The thought remained with me till after some wandering, we found the unit at Peelkhana.
Peelkhana – Dhaka
Brig Onkar Singh Goraya
Deelkhana’ (meaning elephant stable) was a biggish area in
Dhaka and was the location of the East Pakistan Civil Armed Forces (EPCAF), an assortment of paramilitary forces. We were lodged there, after taking over the accommodation from its present occupants, an EPCAF unit much in the same way as units of Indian Army replace each other. The significant difference here was that the personnel of the outgoing unit were in reality our Prisoners of War (POW). They were to assemble in Dhaka Cantonment before dispatch to India. Two officers of this unit, Major Qureshi and Captain Siddiqui showed us the accommodation and other wherewithal they were leaving behind. For the two days we were together, they acted as our hosts and guides. Both officers being from Pakistan’s Punjab, lingual affinity helped establish an immediate bond. We exchanged ideas and experiences of the recent war freely and frankly, over midday tea in their tearoom.
325 BLOOMSBURY LIRERATION BANGLADESH
On 17 December, while having tea with the Pakistani officers, we switched on the radio The Indian Prime Minister was saying, ‘The Indian Army is not there to occupy Bangladesh. It will move out as soon as the law and order situation in the newly born nation is stabilised and not stay a day longer than necessary.’
The Pakistani officers were cynical. ‘We know you are here to stay and rule over these ‘Bongos,’ they said. “Take our suggestion — keep them under the sole of your shoes as we did. Remove the pressure and they will ride on your shoulders.’
Earlier in our talks, they had cagily confessed to committing atrocities against the local population, particularly exploitation of women. They also shamelessly bragged that any officer without a local ‘keep’ was considered ‘not being a man’. This outlook pervaded the Pakistani Army, nourished no doubt by unfettered power and love for soft life.
The Pakistani soldier, however, shared some of the traits of his Indian counterpart. This was brought home to me on the morning of 18 December when I was standing next to a Pakistani cookhouse and talking to one of the Pakistani officers. Breakfast was being prepared, the aroma of poori and bhaji wafted outside.
“lau sahibjee chaah peeyo’ (Have some tea sir).
Standing on my flank was a smart ‘Langar commander’ in khaki uniform with two stripes, holding two mugs of hot aromatic tea. I took the offered cup and drank a few sips before the realization hit me that the soldier offering tea was not an Indian but a Pakistani! His chaste Punjabi momentarily made me believe that I was in my own unit! The gesture floored me; the tone and manner were so familiar. Hundreds of times in my long career, I must have accepted tea offered by Indian soldiers, exactly in the same manner, with the same devotion and sincerity.
This incident prompted me to probe the minds of Pakistani soldiers. When the Pakistani officer had left, I walked up to a smart and confident looking Pakistani Havildar carrying a rifle at shoulder arms.
‘Do you remember the arrogant bombast on Pakistan Radio and TV about invincibility of your army?’ I asked. ‘How do you feel, now that you had to kneel before the Indian Army?’
Sahibji, simple soldiers like me do not understand the complexities of higher thinking,’ he replied. ‘Our officers ordered us to lay down
arms and we obeyed. If they tell us to fight again we will pick up our weapons and fight.’
The stark simplicity and honesty of his answer moved me. “What made you lose the war,’I asked.
He thought for a moment before replying. ‘Our soldiers are the best in the world. If we had officers like yours, we would be invincible.’ There was a sad wistfulness in his voice and I believe he meant every word he said. Later, I was to hear similar sentiments expressed by many Pakistani soldiers. Apparently, most Pakistani officers posted in the Eastern Wing had succumbed to a life of debauchery and luxury. How could the rank and file not get affected? Yet, there were some officers and many soldiers who remained steadfast to their calling. Their numbers were just not enough. I wonder if the Pakistani soldier realized what a great compliment he had paid to the Indian Army. It is always a matter of pride when the enemy acknowledges your fighting prowess and leadership in battle.
A little later, I accosted a Pakistani Major dressed in a grey salwar kameez and white belt. The uniform indicated he was from the military police. He was older and probably far senior to me in service. Though we wore the same rank, he saluted me first, possibly in deference to my status as his captor. He explained that a few families of his men living in civilian localities were under threat of elimination by Bengali hooligans. There was a risk of clash in case he used his own men and vehicles to evacuate them. I gave him an escort of my soldiers and a vehicle of our own. He reported in the evening that all was well and expressed his gratitude.
At the time of surrender, General Niazi was apprehensive that his troops would be killed by the local Bengali population in retaliation for the atrocities committed on them. He requested General Aurora to allow them to keep their personal weapons with ammunition until they were assembled in the safe confines of a PW camp, guarded by Indian troops. In return, General Niazi promised his troops would not use their arms except in extreme necessity of selfdefense. General Aurora graciously granted this request. By and large, the Pakistanis lived up to their word. There was only one incident of firing on an Indian vehicle in which Captain Balbir Singh
and three jawans of 95 Brigade lost their lives. Their vehicle was caught in a crossfire between the Mukti Bahini and a busload of Pakistani prisoners being transported to the Cantonment.
All prisoners were assembled in Dhaka Cantonment from outlying places including Peelkhana by 19 December, prior to being shipped to India. This was done under the responsibility of 311 Mountain Brigade, ex Narayanganj port, in seaworthy boats and other craft of Inland Water Transport (IWT) units of Indian army engineers. The number being more than 90 thousand, the colossal task took many weeks.
As in normal life, there is a lot to do after a big event. Lucky ones went on a well-deserved spot of leave, to celebrate Christmas and the New Year with their families. Staff officers like me got busy pen pushing – writing after action reports, war diaries, citations for bravery awards and attending post mortem sessions of various battles. Our vehicle columns fetched up at Dhaka on 17and 18 December via Daudkandi ferry. Amidst turmoil and jubilations, post ceasefire and surrender, we had lost touch with units and had to regain command and control and re-establish communications with them. Along with infantry units, artillery regiments were allotted certain responsibilities for maintenance of law and order in Dhaka town.
In the Western theatre, though fighting had ceased there was no certainty of the tenuous ceasefire holding. Our army was critically short of certain types of ammunitions and weapons. I was tasked to visit the Pakistani ordnance depot in Dhaka and ascertain if the same were available there. I found their depot well stocked and arranged for the required items to be shipped to India in the next few days. Using the enemy’s war material against him – another irony of war!
Silence was the Only ANSWER
Lt Col Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, Swadhinata Padak, Bir Protik
Ct was a cold winter evening in December 2012 when I met Chitra
Devi, but the memory of that meeting still sits heavily on me. It was an unforeseen meeting, yet when it happened, it brought home to me the loss suffered by thousands of families in the War of Liberation.
The occasion was an award ceremony, organized to commemorate those who braved the enemy and sacrificed their lives in the Liberation War to achieve the dream of Sonar Bangla. Along with the Bengali population, Indian soldiers too shed their blood for the creation of Bangladesh. Shaheed Sepoy Ansuya Prasad of the Indian Army was one such brave soul, whose courage and sacrifice was being acknowledged and honoured in the evening function.
Draped in a sari, whose neat fold demurely covered her head, Chitra Devi walked slowly up to the stage to receive the honour conferred posthumously on her husband, the late Sepoy Ansuya Prasad, MVC. She appeared calm and collected, but her petite frame also
concealed the deep grief within her, which time had not yet been able to heal. She was all of 13 years old when her husband died 41 years earlier in a foreign land, a martyr to the cause of freedom. And the memory of those years came flooding back to me for I was with Ansuya on the night that he embraced martyrdom.
Sepoy Ansuya was still in his teens when he joined 10 Mahar Regiment of the Indian Army. On 29 November 1971, in a combined operation in the Sylhet sector, Indian troops and the Mukti Bahini jointly attacked the Shamshernagar Airport, to weaken Pakistan’s air capability. Pakistani troops defended the airport with a company of 30 Frontier Force Regiment, a Mujahid company and a platoon of Tochi Scouts. The attack on the enemy was launched by 3 Punjab Regiment of the Indian Army and the Mukti Bahini. Artillery fire support was provided by Mukti Bahini’s 2 Field Battery. I was with the Mukti Bahini and took part in this operation. Despite the ferocity of the attack, the joint forces could not make much headway against the well-prepared defences of the Pakistani forces. The Commander, however, was not one to let go and launched another attack, reinforced by an additional infantry battalion, 10 Mahar.
The Pakistanis were expecting the second attack and had reinforced their defences. Their well-camouflaged machine guns had clear fields of fire all around the runway. The offensive began with artillery shelling and the airport area turned into a bloody battleground. However, forward advance remained effectively blocked by the continuous heavy accurate fire from the enemy’s machine guns. The attacking troops were waiting for a lull in the battle but none was forthcoming. The machine guns continued to spit out their deadly arsenal amidst the exploding shells all around.
We took up positions and attempted to crawl forward but a well-sited enemy machine gun prevented forward movement. It was essential to destroy this post, which had already caused heavy casualties to 10 Mahar, if further progress in the battle was to be made. The proximity of own troops prevented the use of artillery and the only option now available appeared to be to get close enough to the well dug in machine gun post and destroy it with hand grenades. The attacking troops were some distance from the runway and throwing
grenades from this distance was not feasible. Someone had to crawl through the barrage to get close enough to the enemy to lob the grenades. Sepoy Ansuya Prasad took it upon himself to accomplish the task.
We watched as Ansuya Prasad, crawled forward, his movement much like a leopard, moving into a hail of bullets. With bated breath we watched him close up to the enemy, grenades held in both hands, getting closer and closer to the objective. And then, when he was near the target he was hit by a hail of bullets. Writhing in pain, he still moved forward, undaunted, and with one supreme effort, threw his grenades into the enemy post.
The post burst into flames and we could see the surviving enemy soldiers scrambling to escape. With the machine gun post silenced, the troops of 10 Mahar made the final brave charge. All around there was the confusion of battle, with human bodies from both sides, lying on the blood stained ground. Among them was the body of the brave son of India, Sepoy Ansuya Prasad, who laid down his life for the honour of his country and his clan. His bravery created an opening in the enemy defences, which enabled the position to be captured. Eight days later, after the capture of the Kulaura railway station, the Company Commander informed me that Ansuya had been posthumously awarded the Maha Vir Chakra for gallantry, the youngest recipient to be so honoured. His citation read:
volunteered for the single-man suicide squad mission was shot in both the legs just while advancing stealthily towards the enemy position holding a few phosphorous grenades. Undeterred, he crawled up to the enemy position and neutralised it before succumbing to his wounds…
Forty-one years is a long time but those images came flooding back to me as I watched Chitra Devi accept the award on behalf of her martyred husband. Once again, I was transported to the scene of a battle fought long ago, and felt the earth tremor to the sound of gunfire and explosives. Those images remained with me when we went to dinner in honour of the awardees. While seated at my table, Chitra Devi came up to meet me. She greeted me and introduced
herself. Someone had told her that I was in the battle in which her husband attained martyrdom. There was a chair vacant next to me and she sat down. We then got talking of the times gone by.
She told me that she was 13 years old when she married Ansuya who was four years elder to her. She remembers Ansuya as a very handsome and cheerful young man. He enlisted very soon after their marriage, and was martyred thereafter in Shamshernagar area. Her one regret was that his body was not returned and she could not see his handsome face for one last time. An Officer and a Subedar came to her home and informed her of Ansuya’s martyrdom. She remembered screaming at the top of her voice before she lost consciousness. When she regained her senses, she just had one request. ‘Bring back my husband’s body,’ she said. “I want to see him one last time. They had no response to offer. Her requests to the Indian security establishment similarly elicited no response. Her eyes were moist as she told me her story, my eyes too misted with emotion.
‘Days passed,’ she said ‘and then weeks and months and years. I learnt to adjust to the reality of life. I was forced to be strong, to hold on to myself, to resist the storm of fate. But in all that time, all that I ever wanted was the body of my husband. I had to see him one last time.’
She then asked me the question I had been dreading since she sat down to speak to me.
‘Did you see Ansuya’s body after he was martyred?’
I could not reply. How could I tell her that the battlefield is a brutal place, where bodies are mutilated beyond recognition? At this moment, she was no longer a 54 year old lady. In some remote corner of her heart, she was still a young teenager, madly in love with her handsome husband. How could I destroy the one image she held of her love, so close in her heart? I wiped a silent tear.
Silence was the only answer I had.
43 Years Later: Revisiting The War
Lt Col Keshav S Puntambekar
on the limited life span of a professional soldier’s life, it is
extremely rare to re-visit old battle sites where he, along with other members of his unit had participated in some famous actions while in service. The idea of visiting Bangladesh surfaced in January 2014. It all started when I received a call from Lieutenant General YM Bammi, who was GS02 in 101 Communication Zone during the war. I had not met him since the war and his call both surprised me and revived memories of an era gone by. He told me that he was going to Bangladesh on a short visit and would be interacting with quite a few Mukti Bahini “Yodhas.’ The mention of ‘Yodhas’ immediately made me think of my good friend, Zohal Haq Munshi and I requested General Bammi to enquire about his whereabouts. On his return, General Bammi not only rang me up but also gave me Munshi’s contact number. I spoke to Munshi from Mumbai and that call put the seed of an idea in my mind. I thought of visiting the battle site we had left 43 years ago, with all the officers of the battalion who had taken part in the 1971 war.
My unit, the 1st Battalion, Maratha Light Infantry (JANGI PALTAN) took part in unconventional operations before the declaration of war on 3 December 1971. Thereafter we took part in regular, conventional military operations during the 13 days war. When I look back on those days, a sense of nostalgia overcomes me. I remember with amusement how prior to the war we operated in
lungies’ and T shirts, dressing as villagers and carrying out raids on the enemy troops opposite us and carrying guns and mortars on bullock carts where vehicles could not ply. I remember with pride that along with 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment, we were the first troops to enter Dhaka. I also remember and cherish the deep bonds of friendship we established with the local people and with the Mukti Bahini. 43 years later, we were fortunate to revisit the scenes of battle long gone by.
We were 19 officers in the unit when we moved for ‘Operation Cactus Lily (East).’ This included our medical officer and an officer on attachment from the Education Corps. I started contacting the old team in mid-February 2014 for this historic visit. By then, Lieutenant Colonel (then Major) SA Mohite, the units erstwhile second in Command, Captain RSV Dafle and Colonel (then Captain) RM Mohan, both Company Officers Y Company and Lieutenant Colonel SD Patil (then Captain), Company Officer C Company, had already passed away. Lieutenant General KS Brar, our erstwhile Commanding Officer, unfortunately could not come due to complicated security reasons. I could not locate both Lieutenant Colonel BS Yadav, who was Company Officer D Company and Colonel HK Malhotra, who was a captain then and was our medical officer. Our erstwhile Quarter Master, Major TKV Nair (then Captain) could not come as the timing clashed with his grandson’s marriage. That left eleven of us, who volunteered to go on this historic journey. Unfortunately, six more officers dropped out later due to medical reasons/ other pressing engagements. (Major SR Powar, Captain S Salgar, Captain SK Sarin, Captain JG Pimpley, Captain VM Sawant and Captain AK Rajpal). Finally, it was just the five of us, Lieutenant General S Nambiar (then Company Commander Y Company), Lieutenant Colonel MC Sachdev (then Company Commander D Company), Colonel SA Kulkarni (then the Battalion Adjutant), Brigadier BK Ponwar (then Company Officer
C Company) and self who made the journey. I must add that we had the privilege of Mrs Nambiar accompanying us.
The observant military reader must have observed that in the above paragraph, there is no mention of B Company, but there is a mention of Y Company. That is because my unit, 1st Battalion, The Maratha Light Infantry (Jangi Paltan), has its rifle companies named ‘A,’ Y,’ ‘C’ and ‘D’ Companies instead of ‘A,’ ‘B,’ ‘C’ and ‘D’ Companies like other infantry battalions. There is a little bit of history attached to this. The change took place during the early period of World War II. Our erstwhile ‘B’ Company invariably suffered very heavy casualties whenever it went into action. The then Company Commander just prior to the Battle of Senio in Italy, suggested to the Battalion Commander to change the name of the then ‘B’ Company to ‘Y’ Company. The logic was instead of second alphabet from the beginning – use the second last letter from the end. Unbelievably, in the first action thereafter, in the Battle of Senio, the gallant action by Sepoy Namdeo Jadhav, won the Battalion the Victoria Cross. Since then, the battalion has stuck to naming B Company as Y Company.
As planned, we visited Bangladesh from 12 April 2014 to 16 Apr 2014. Extremely well organised and equally well conducted, the visit took us back to those days, 43 years ago, when we, along with the Mukti Bahini, helped liberate the people from oppression and form a new country. At the Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport, the Deputy Military Adviser to the Indian High Commission in Dhaka, Brigadier PC Thimmayya, received us. Our hosts put us up in the ‘Mohanonda Complex,’ for a comfortable and enjoyable stay. Soon after arrival, we visited the Liberation War Museum. That evening, Major Alok Nath, a long-time friend of General Nambiar invited us for dinner at their house located in Gulshan 2. Both Major Nath and his charming Swiss wife were most gracious and hospitable.
Next day, on 13 April we visited ‘Shikha Anirban’ – a museum raised by a local organisation, highlighting the atrocities committed by Pakistani troops. One felt sad to view the grim realities of human sufferings. We then called on the Chief of General Staff of the Bangladesh Army, Lieutenant General Mohmmad Mainul Islam, AWC, PSC at his office in the Army Headquarters. After lunch, we met two Army Historians, Lieutenant Colonel Sajjad Ali Zahir,
Bir Protik and Major Qamrul Hassan Bhuiyan. In the afternoon, we met Mr AKM Mozammel Huq, Minister for Liberation War Affairs. On our way back we revisited the President’s House where, on reaching Dhaka on 16 Dec 1971, the unit officers had stayed for the night. Later that evening we left Dhaka and headed for Ghatail, the headquarters of 19 Infantry Division of the Bangladesh Army. Due to the narrow roads and heavy traffic outside Dhaka, the journey took over 4 hours and we reached Ghatail well past 10 pm. The General Officer Commanding 19 Infantry Division, Major General Shafiqur Rahman was extremely hospitable and made our stay most comfortable.
Early next morning, we left for the Kamalpur Border Out Post (BOP) with India in the North. Our erstwhile Mukti Bahini comrades who had interacted with us 43 years ago had informed the locals of our arrival. As our mini bus reached Kamalpur, we were amazed at the huge crowd that had come to greet us. It was a sea of humanity, old men and women shouting ‘1 MARATHA ZINDABAD,’ with tears rolling down their eyes. It was indeed a genuine and emotional response from the locals for our brief attachment/ association with them. I am not sure if any other Army has witnessed such spontaneous and overwhelming display of love and affection, four decades after the event, as we received that day. A thought flashed through my mind: ‘Could the Americans or the Pakistanis ever get such a reception should they visit Baluchistan, Iraq, Egypt, Turkey or Libya?’
We then drove to the spot where on the night of 14/15 Nov 1971, we had ambushed 31 Baluch Regiment and their affiliated artillery. In that action, between General Satish Nambiar’s Company and my Company, we had ambushed and killed 112 enemy soldiers and blew up six heavy trucks towing artillery guns. We achieved this in 10 minutes of intense firing. Clad in ‘lungies’ and T shirts, we had infiltrated 35 km on foot to reach the ambush site. Then we revisited Bakshiganj where the enemy did not offer us any resistance but managed to escape towards Jamalpur. The locals greeted us with the slogan ‘AMRA NETA, TUMRA NETA, SHEIKH – SHEIKH – SHEIKH – MUJIB. JOY INDIRA MAA – JOY BANGLA. I wonder where would we have got such spontaneous response and that too
straight from the heart! Tears of joy were rolling down their eyes. It was for all of us a highly emotional meeting indeed.
After Bakshiganj we visited Jamalpur where, after crossing over the mighty Brahmaputra, we had cut off the route of withdrawal of the enemy and effectively blocked it. That night, Pakistanis got orders to withdraw towards Dhaka; they never realised that we were firmly dug in and had cut off their route of withdrawal. In that night’s action, over 300 enemy soldiers including 15 officers were killed and about 500 soldiers were taken as prisoners of war. They belonged mostly to Pakistan’s 31 Baluch Battalion. For this action our Battalion was conferred the Battle Honour JAMALPUR.’ The unit also won five Vir Chakras, two Sena Medals and One Mention in Dispatches.
We then moved to Tangail where, during the war we linked up with 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment (Maratha). 2 Para had been para dropped with their equipment, ammunition, guns and vehicles on the outskirts of Tangail. I remembered an incident that occurred before the war, when we met officers of 2 Para. In a jovial mood, they told us that they would meet us in East Pakistan and asked us what they could get for us. A plastic jerry can full of rum’, we told them. Lo and behold, when we linked up with 2 Para at Tangail, they had a jerrycan of rum for us! Such is the camaraderie of soldiers. That evening we met a famous Mukti Bahini soldier, Anwar Ul Alam. Then we returned to Ghatial to participate in the New Year Day celebrations.
On 15 April, we visited the ‘Bang Bandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’ house, located in Dhanmondi area of Dhaka. Here, on 15 Aug 1975, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman along with nine members of his family and a few household staff were killed by certain treacherous Bangladeshi troops who had loyalty to Pakistan. The rooms where the shooting took place have been preserved as they were on that unfortunate day. One could see the bullet marks on the walls, the dried blood marks on the floor and the clothes worn by the victims. The house has now been converted into a Trust Museum and is managed by Ms Mashura Hossain. Not many people remember that on that fateful day, an Indian Air Force helicopter, sent to evacuate Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and members of his family, was also shot down as
it landed near the house and the entire crew was killed in the failed rescue bid.
On April 16, we returned to India. For all of us it was a nostalgic, most memorable and historical visit, the memories of which will never fade. As the aircraft taxied down the runway of the Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport, I was enveloped with a feeling of sadness for our comrades who were no longer with us and for the suffering and pain undergone by the people of Bangladesh. But there was also euphoria and hope. Good ultimately, does triumph over evil. The Liberation of Bangladesh stands testimony to that.
Author Profiles
(In sequential order of their stories in this book)
LIEUTENANT COLONEL QUAZI SAJJAD ALI ZAHIR, SWADHINATA PADAK, BIR PROTIK
Quazi Sajjad Ali Zahir, recipient of the highest national honour of Bangladesh ‘Swadhinata Padak,’ is a researcher and author about the Liberation War. In 1971, after defecting from the Pakistan Army and crossing the
Jammu-Kashmir border, he organised and fought with 2 Field Battery in the Sylhet area and was awarded “Bir Protik.’ He has authored 31 books and innumerable articles in Bangla and English newspapers, researched and presented about 400 episodes on TV channels, and won the best TV documentary award in 2011. He is researching on the missing population of 1971, and has identified graves of nearly 3,000 freedom fighters on Indian soil and is working on bringing back their mortal remains to Bangladesh. He is the Project Director of the Bangladesh Army History Project and regularly addresses seminars in Bangladesh and abroad.
MAJOR GENERAL MA SIKDER
Major General A.K. Mohammad Ali Sikder was a student in Class XI when the Liberation War broke out. He left his studies to become a guerrilla freedom fighter in sector number eight, which was composed of the geographical area of greater Faridpur, Jessore and Khulna. At the end of the war, he went back to study and
joined the Bangladesh Army while studying for his honours in economics from Dhaka University. Commissioned in 1975 in the Corps of Artillery, after very distinguished service, he retired as a Major General in 2008. Thereafter, from 2009-2014, he served as Managing Director of the Bangladesh Freedom Fighters Welfare Trust (BFFWT), an organisation designed to look after the welfare of the families of martyrs and the disabled Freedom Fighters and to uphold the cause of the freedom struggle of Bangladesh. He has authored seven books, and is a regular column writer in Bangla and English dailies in Bangladesh on politico-security matters. He can be reached at akmalisikder@gmail.com or sikder52@gmail. com.
MAJOR GENERAL PK BATRA
An alumnus of the National Defence Academy and the Indian Military Academy, General Batra was commissioned into the Armoured Corps. He is a veteran of the 1965 and 1971 Indo Pak Wars. He was a squadron commander in 45 Cavalry Regiment during the Liberation War.
His unit distinguished itself in operations and was awarded the Battle Honour ‘Darsana.’ He has vast experience in counter insurgency and anti-militancy operations and has held coveted command and staff appointments before retirement.
COLONEL DK CHAND, SM
Commissioned on 15 June 1969, Colonel DK Chand is an alumnus of the National Defence Academy and Army Aviation School, USA. A gallantry award winner, he commanded a Mukti Bahini base in
the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War. He was instrumental in deploying a gun on the Siachen Glacier in 1991, and in clearing Pakistani intrusion and beating back an attack on Kirni Post on the Line of Control. He is a specialist in helicopters and safety management systems
and has been actively involved in DGCA Committees, seminars and training. At present, he is an Aviation Advisor and a member of the Governing Council of the Rotor Wing Society of India (RWSI).
MAJOR GENERAL HARDEV S KLER, MVC, AVSM
General Hardev Kler was widely known in the Indian Army for his flamboyance, daring and wit. During the Indo-Pak War of December 1971, as Commander 95 Mountain Brigade, he led the advance from Jamalpur up to Turag river and was perhaps one of the first officers to reach Dhaka. During all the action during
the advance, he was personally present with the leading troops and directed operations with complete disregard for his personal safety. By leading from the front, in the thick of battle, he provided great inspiration to his troops who had laid siege behind enemy positions south of Jamalpur. Major General KM Bhimaya, an erudite scholar rated him as arguably the best field commander of the Indian Army. After the war, General Kler commanded the famous 10 Infantry Division headquartered at Akhnur. On leaving the Army, he settled down at Chandigarh and later moved to California, USA, where he currently resides. He can be contacted at harrykler@yahoo.com
GENERAL DEEPAK KAPOOR, PVSM, AVSM, SM, VSM
Commissioned in the Regiment of Artillery in June 1967, General Deepak Kapoor saw action in the Bangladesh Liberation War while posted to the 23 Mountain Regiment
and attached as GSO3 with HQ 61 Mountain Brigade. A graduate of the Staff College, Higher Command and
NDC, the General served as the Chief Operations Officer of all UN forces in Somalia in 1994-95. He commanded an infantry brigade on the Line of Control in J&K, an infantry division as part of the strike corps and a corps on the Sino Indian border. Thereafter, he served as the General Officer Commanding in Chief of both the Army Training Command and Northern Command, before taking over as Vice Chief and finally as Chief of Army Staff of the Indian Army on 30 September 2007.
COLONEL ASHOK KUMAR TARA, VRC.
Colonel Ashok Kumar Tara, VrC, was commissioned in the Brigade of the Guards and is a veteran of the 1965 India-Pakistan War (Battle of Gadra) and 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War (Battle of Gangasagar). He has been a Commando Instructor at Mhow and a member of the elite 9 Para Commando Regiment. He was actively involved in
specialised counter insurgency operations in the Mizo Hills and was conferred the Vir Chakra for his valour in the Battle of Gangasagar. On 20 October 2012, he was conferred the “Friends of Bangladesh Liberation War Honour” by the Prime Minister of Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina.
BRIGADIER ONKAR SINGH GORAYA
A gunner, Brigadier Onkar Singh Goraya was commissioned in 1960, and saw active service in 1962 (Nathu La), 1965 War (Sialkot Sector) and 1971 War as Brigade Major (BM) 57 Artillery Brigade. During Operation Blue Star in Amritsar, he played an important role, of which he has published an eye witness account in his book “Operation Blue Star and
After”. His second book about Liberation of Bangladesh outlining in detail the Operations of 4 Corps is likely to be released in December 2014. He is settled at Panchkula (Haryana) and can be contacted at onkargoraya@gmail.com
LIEUTENANT COLONEL KS PUNTAMBEKAR
Colonel Puntambekar was commissioned in the 1st Battalion of the Maratha Light Infantry in June 1959. He has the distinction of participating in the Liberation of Daman in 1961, ‘Operation Kabaddi’ in the Rann of Kutch in 1965 and in the Liberation of Bangladesh in 1971 (Operation Vijay – East).
In 1975, he assumed command of the 8 Maratha Light Infantry and had the honour of commanding his battalion at the Rashtrapati Bhavan. Later, he moved with his battalion to Bangalore and Port Blair before taking premature retirement in 1984. He now resides in Mumbai and can be contacted at kpuntambekar@yahoo.com
MAJOR GENERAL IAN CARDOZO, AVSM, SM
Major General Ian Cardozo was born in Mumbai and studied at the St. Xavier’s School and College. In July 1954 he joined the Joint Services Wing which later became the National Defence Academy at Khadakvasla, Pune. He was the first cadet to win both the gold medal
for being the best all-round cadet and silver medal for being first in order of merit. He was commissioned into the 1st Battalion of the 5th Gorkha rifles (Frontier Force) at the Indian Military Academy in June 1958 and was the first officer of the Indian Army to be awarded the Sena Medal for gallantry on a patrol on the Sino-Indian border in NEFA in 1960. He took part in the Sino-Indian war of 1962 and the Indo-Pak wars of 1965 and 1971. Wounded in the Battle of Sylhet in Bangladesh in 1971, he overcame the handicap of losing a leg and was instrumental in opening up command opportunities for battle casualties and removing the cap on their promotion. He is the first battle casualty to be approved for command of an infantry battalion and an infantry brigade. He commanded his battalion, brigade and division in operational areas and retired as Chief of Staff of a corps in the Northeast.
Author of ‘Param Vir – Our Heroes in Battle and the ‘Sinking of
INS Khukri’, he has worked with children with disabilities at the Spastics Society of Northern India.
AUTHOR PROFILE
Guardsman Suresh Singh was with No 3 Platoon, ‘A’ Coy, 4 Guards, when on 2 Dec 1971 his platoon was overrun by enemy tanks and infantry. During this operation, he was severely wounded and taken prisoner. When
4 Guards entered Dhaka on 16 December, his Commanding Officer, Colonel Himmeth Singh first went to the Prisoners of War Camp and had all the prisoners including Suresh released. Thereafter, Suresh went through a prolonged period of rehabilitation to recover from his wounds.
SUBEDAR MAJOR AND HONORARY CAPTAIN MUKUND SINGH HIRA
As the recoilless gun detachment Commander in the rank of Havildar, Captain Hira’s detachment was attached to ‘A’ Company 4 Guards during the 1971 War. He later rose to become a Subedar Major and retired as Honorary Captain from the Indian Army.
SUBEDAR MAJOR AND HONORARY CAPTAIN TIRATH SINGH
During the war, Captain Tirath Singh was a Havildar commanding his medium machine gun detachment, which was attached to ‘A’ Company, 4 Guards. He rose to become a Subedar Major and retired as Honorary Captain from the Indian Army.
SUBEDAR MAJOR AND HONORARY CAPTAIN JAI SINGH
Honorary Captain Jai Singh was a Naik in the Intelligence Section of 4 Guards during the 1971 War. He later rose to become a Subedar Major and retired as Honorary Captain from the Indian Army.
LIEUTENANT GENERAL NIRBHAY SHARMA, PVSM, UYSM, AVSM, VSM
An alumnus of the National Defence Academy, General Nirbhay Sharma was commissioned in the Indian Army in 1966. He is one of the most distinguished and decorated field commanders of the Indian Army. Most of his assignments were in the North Eastern States and Jammu and Kashmir. As a young Captain, he fought
in the 1971 War and was part of the Airborne Assault Group, the first Indian Army Unit to enter Dacca. After 40 years of distinguished service in the Army, he was appointed Member of the Union Public Service Commission of India. With an M.Sc and an M.Phil in Defence Studies from Madras University, he is a widely recognised strategic thinker and defence analyst. The General is now Governor of Arunachal Pradesh, a strategic State having common borders with Bhutan, China and Myanmar.
CAPTAIN SHAMSHER SINGH, VSM
Shamsher studied at the RIMC Dehra Dun before joining the NDA, Khadakvasla in 1963. Commissioned in 1967 in the 11 Gurkha Rifles, he volunteered for the Parachute Regiment in 1968. His passion for skydiving led him to France where he met and married Chantal, also
a skydiver. He set up the Skydiving Institute at Agra in 1979 and is now settled in France.
DR NURAN NABI, PHD
Dr. Nuran Nabi is a valiant freedom fighter of the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971 for which he was awarded a special citations by the Commander in Chief of the Bangladesh Liberation Army for his valour and outstanding contribution. The 6 May 1972 issue of the Far Eastern Economic Review, referred to Dr. Nabi
as ‘the Brain’ of the Freedom Fighters Forces. He has published a book, “Bullets of ’71 – A Freedom Fighter’s
Story’. A PhD in Cell Biology from Kyushu University, Japan, Dr Nabi worked for 22 years for the Colgate-Palmolive company. Currently, he is a Councilman of Plainsboro Township, NJ, USA.
He can be contacted at his website: http://www.nurannabi.com and Ž by e-mail at nurannabi@gmail.com.
BRIGADIER PRASHANT GHOSH, VRC
Commissioned into the Corps of Signals on 9 Feb 1964, Brigadier Ghosh took part in the 1965 Indo Pak War as part of 68 Independent Infantry Brigade in the “Uri-Poonch Bulge” leading to the capture of the Haji Pir Pass. His story covers operations of the 1971 Liberation War where he was selected for a clandestine
mission in the then East Pakistan in the Jamalpur-Mymensingh-Tangail area. He served as Military Attache to Indonesia and the Phillipines in early 87 and commanded 44 Mountain Brigade from Jun 91 to Nov 93. He retired from the Army in November 2000, and worked with Mahindra & Mahindra for six years thereafter and is currently settled in Lucknow.
Hav MAHADEV GURAO
Havildar Mahadeo Gurao was enrolled in the Indian Army on 16 Dec 64. As a young paratrooper, he took part in the famous airborne assault of 2 PARA (SF), and was the only one whose parachute did not deploy when he jumped. His story is based on that episode. He retired from the Army in the rank of Havildar on 31 July 1982 and thereafter
moved back to his native place where he participates in community activities.
Air Vice MARSHAL CHANDAN SINGH, MVC, AVSM, VRC
AVM Chandan Singh was commissioned at the age of 16 in the Jodhpur Lancers and saw action in the Middle East during World War II. After Independence, he transferred to the IAF and moved from fighters to transport aircraft in 1949 after sustaining injuries
in a crash. He pioneered supply dropping and landing of transports in high altitude areas for which he was awarded the AVSM when he was still a Squadron Leader, the junior most officer to receive this award. In 1962, as Squadron Commander, he airlifted AMX tanks of the 20 Lancers to Chushul when the airfield came
under attack by the Chinese. He successfully dropped vital supplies to our garrison although his aircraft was hit 19 times by enemy ground fire. For his courage and valour he was awarded the Vir Chakra. In 1971 he was Station Commander Jorhat where he was tasked to raise and train the Bangladesh Air Force. He did this with great panache and aplomb and then led them in carrying out offensive operations deep into enemy areas. Later in the war he took charge of the helicopter fleet that was made available to IV Corps. During the advance of the Army towards Dhaka, he planned and executed the movement of nearly 3,000 troops and 40 tons of equipment and heavy guns with an extremely limited helicopter force at his disposal. For his role in the operations he was awarded the Maha Vir Chakra. He retired as an Air Vice Marshal and is currently settled in his hometown at Jodhpur.
COMMODORE RANJIT B RAI
Commodore Ranjit B Rai, MBIM (UK) is a specialist navigator and Air Force trained air controller who attended Yarrow Shipyard, HMS Dryad and RN Staff College. He has commanded three ships and also the Naval Academy and served as Director Operations
and Intelligence and as Defence Adviser in Singapore for South East Asia. He currently writes on naval matters and speaks on maritime Issues and broadcasts. He has authored five books, the latest being ‘Warring Navies – India and Pakistan (2014).’
MAJOR CHANDRAKANT SINGH, VRC
Commissioned in 4 Guards, Major Chandrakant Singh served with the Battalion in Gaza in 1964. Thereafter, he was actively involved
in the late sixties, in counter insurgency operations in the Mizo Hills. Known for his panache, sense of humour and frontline leadership in the 1971 War, he was wounded in action and was awarded the Vir Chakra for conspicuous gallantry and courage displayed throughout the war. Popularly called ‘Paunchy’
by his friends, he took premature retirement in 1977 and is now involved in writing and speaking on environmental and defence related issues.
WING COMMANDER VINOD NEBB, VRC AND BAR
Wing Commander Vinod Nebb was commissioned in the IAF in 1963 and was still under operational training when the 1965 Pakistan war broke out. He was very eager to participate to overcome the humiliation of 1962. On his insistence, he was allowed to
do Combat Air Patrol (CAP) and during one such sortie on Sept 06 over Halwara, he shot down a Pakistani F86 Sabre aircraft. He was just 22 years old. The President, Dr Radhakrishnan, awarded him his first Vir Chakra. While in the IAF, he won many rocket and gunnery trophies. In 1971, during the Bangladesh Liberation War, he was awarded his second Vir Chakra. In 1984, while commanding a radar unit, he put his imprint on the Himalayan Car Rally Map and stood first among all Indian participants and sixth from amongst all participants from across the world. In 1988, his flying career came to an abrupt end when he suffered a heart attack, and he took premature retirement. Thereafter, he helped his wife in her venture in direct marketing with Hindustan Unilever Limited, by conducting motivational training.
LIEUTENANT GENERAL JFR JACOB, PVSM
Born in 1923, General Jacob is the scion of an old Baghdadi Jewish family that immigrated to India some 200 years ago. He graduated from Officer’s Training School Mhow in 1942 and saw action in Burma, Sumatra, and other parts
of South Asia. He took part in the 1965 Indo-Pak War in the desert sector, but the highlight of his military career was undoubtedly the role he played as Chief of Staff Eastern Command in the 1971 Liberation War where he is widely credited for the formulation of plans that finally led to the surrender of the Pakistan Army. A study of the campaign by Pakistan’s National Defence College concluded, “The credit really goes to General Jacob’s meticulous preparations in the Indian Eastern Command and to the implementation by the Corps Commanders.” He later commanded the Eastern Army from where he retired in 1978. Post retirement, he has served as Governor of Goa, Governor of Punjab and Administrator of Chandigarh. He currently resides in New Delhi. His story has been taken from his address at the seminar organised by the Centre for Land Warfare Studies (CLAWS) in December 2013 on the Liberation Of Bangladesh and also from his recorded interview given to CLAWS.
LIEUTENANT GENERAL SAGAT SINGH, PVSM
Commissioned in the Bikaner State Forces, General Sagat Singh saw action in the Middle East during World War II. After Independence, he transferred to the Indian Army and joined 9 Gurkha Rifles. In 1961, as Commander 50 (Independent) Parachute Brigade, he played a prominent role in the liberation of Goa where
his troops were the first to reach Panjim. In 1967, he was commanding a division in Sikkim when the Chinese tried to occupy the watershed and other commanding heights at Nathu La. General Sagat Singh took prompt and decisive action in repulsing the Chinese incursions and secured all the dominating features on the watershed, negating Chinese designs. On being posted as GOC 101 Communication Zone, he was instrumental in bringing the insurgency in Mizo Hills under control and was awarded the Param Vishist Sewa Medal (PVSM). On one occasion, he even ordered crossing of the borders of East Pakistan to destroy hostile camps located there. During the 1971 War he was in Command of IV Corps, displaying great dash, audacity and strategic acumen coupled with personal courage, which contributed in large measure to the early end of the war. His daring and innovative use
of helicopters in the war has not been replicated since. He was awarded the Padma Bhushan for his role in the Liberation War. The General retired on 30 November 1976 and passed away at the Military Hospital, Delhi on 26 September 2001. His story has been extracted from his personal notes and audio recordings made available by Major Chandrakant Singh, VrC.
Ms ANISHA HEBLE
Anisha Heble is an eclectic freelance designer and painter. She has worked with several multinational corporates like Citi as well as with scientific and cultural institutions like the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research and Prithvi Theatre. Her special interest lies in publishing design, having worked with Penguin on varied coffee table books and book covers, and with Oxford University on numerous wildlife coffee table books on tigers. She currently lives and
works from Auckland, New Zealand. Anisha means the break of light. She was so named because she was born at the moment when the ceasefire was declared in the 1971 war and the blackout was lifted. It is a happy coincidence that she was involved with the designing of the cover of this book.
Major General Dhruv C Katoch, SM, VSM
Commissioned in the DOGRA Regiment on 31 March 1972. He is an alumnus of Sherwood College, Naini Tal, the National Defence Academy, Khadakvasla and the National Defence College, New Delhi. A third generation army officer, his family has the
distinction of continuous Army service over the last 125 years. While in the Indian Army, he served in ‘Operation Pawan’ for two years as part of the IPKF in Sri Lanka, as also across all frontiers of India in senior command and staff assignments. Post retirement he served as the Director of the Indian Army’s premier think tank, Centre for Land Warfare Studies (CLAWS) for two years from November 2012 until October 2014.
He is a prolific writer and speaker on defence and security related issues, the General has written over a hundred articles in the last five years which have been published by leading defence establishments and by the media. He has edited two books and contributed articles to many more. He also writes motivational short stories, many of which have been published in the ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul series of books. Currently, he is engaged in editing a book on the battle accounts of officers and men who participated in the 1965 IndiaPakistan War, a project being undertaken under the aegis of the Indian War Veterans Association.