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Authors: MUKUL DEVA

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BOOK: THE GARUD STRIKES
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DAY TWELVE

12 DECEMBER 1971

T
uffy and Charlie Company began the day with an operation to clear the powerhouse that had eluded all attempts by Alpha Company. It was only when they scored a direct rocket launcher hit on the sub-station that the 13 EPCAF men holding it finally gave up. With that, the last pocket of resistance at Narsinghdi was eliminated.

Meanwhile, Mishra and Himmeth had assessed the situation, and both commanders again decided to exploit the situation and continue the dash for Dacca. Accordingly, Mishra ordered Himmeth to marshal his unit together and resume advance on Dacca as soon as possible.

Yet again, the guardsmen responded rapidly. By the time the remainder of 311 Mountain Brigade, including 65 Mountain Regiment, had been heli-landed across the Meghna, the battalion was ready and resumed its onward push to Dacca. Following closely behind was the rest of the brigade.

 

 

 

‘We were feeling really kicked that Mishra had once again chosen our unit to lead the brigade advance,’ Glucose beamed proudly.

At 1000 hours, on 12 December 1971, Alpha Company moved out in civil transport. The battalion HQ followed at 1300 hours. This time, however, they moved without Paunchy, who had been given yet another morphine shot to keep him happily sedated and then backloaded for treatment to Agartala.

The advance to Bulta, a small town on the east bank of Lakhiya river, about twelve kilometres short of Dacca, took place without any enemy interference. Noting the lack of enemy resistance, Mishra ordered 4 Guards to keep moving and push on to Barpa, another small town on the eastern banks of the Lakhiya river, a mere eight miles from Dacca; clearly, the end was near.

Operations were by now flowing so fast that it was becoming well nigh impossible to keep track of which Indian Army unit was where. If it was confusing on ground, it was becoming impossible for the Indian Air Force to identify friend and foe from the air.

Perhaps that is why, while advancing on Barpa with his company, Tuffy Marwah found himself under attack from the Indian Air Force. The strafing was pretty accurate, and they even managed to knock off the heel of his ammunition boot. Luckily, there were no other casualties.

 

 

 

Paunchy had, meanwhile, reached the ADS at Agartala, and was being treated for his wound. A Pakistani soldier, who had been shot in the ankle, occupied the bed next to him.

‘While talking to him, I learnt that he was from 12 ‘Azad’ Kashmir. He had been shot at the Arhand road block,’ Paunchy said. He did not mention to him that it was his company that had been doing the shooting. ‘It was pretty strange to be lying next to a guy whom one had been shooting at a couple of days ago,’ said Paunchy with an inexplicable expression on his face. ‘We spent one day together at the ADS. I learnt from him that he was very surprised and touched by the treatment being given to him by our forces.’

The Pakistani soldier told Paunchy that he had never expected to be treated so kindly. He had certainly never expected to be sharing a ward with an Indian Army officer, and being treated by the same doctors as an officer.

‘Such a thing would never happen in our Army,’ the soldier said, driving home the stark difference in two armies that had, until just a few years ago, marched under the same flag, been raised and trained together.

 

 

 

Back on the battlefield, by 2300 hours, 4 Guards had secured Barpa and had begun to dig in.

Barpa stands a mere eight miles from Dacca. In twelve short and bloody days, the Indian Army stood at the threshold of their final objective.

Morale in the Indian camp was soaring by now. Everyone sensed that the next couple of days would most probably be the most critical ones. Days that if properly handled would mean a successful end to the war.

Everyone was also aware that with their backs to the wall, the Pakistanis would now put up fierce resistance; they no longer had any more space to fall back upon.

All through the night, Himmeth went from company to company, meeting the men, rallying them, and getting them ready for the final push.

 

 

 

Not too far away from them, in the Pakistani camp at Dacca, the situation was exactly the opposite, and a grim fatal mood prevailed. The Pakistani Eastern Army Commander, General Niazi, had by now realized that the game was up, that he had been outwitted and outfought by the Indians.

‘Niazi did not have much of a choice,’ Shamsher Mehta pointed out. ‘In addition to the fact that his forces were totally demoralized and no longer had the will to fight, he also had on his head the responsibility for the ten thousand odd Pakistani Army families that were presently in Dacca.’

Niazi knew that if he did not surrender to the Indian Army, and they happened to fall in the hands of the East Pakistanis, who were thirsting for vengeance, they would be lynched. The Bangladeshis would show them exactly the same mercy the Pakistani Army had shown them: none. This was amply clear from the fate of the few Pakistani soldiers who had the misfortune of falling in the hands of the locals. They would have been better off dead.

Sharply aware of the hatred his forces had fostered in the years preceding the war, Niazi contacted Yahya Khan and requested him to approach the UN for a ceasefire.

 

 

DAY THIRTEEN

13 DECEMBER 1971

A
dvance resumed well before first light of 13 December 1971. Alpha and Delta Companies, along with their Artillery OPs, moved astride the road from Barpa to Adamjee Jute Mills.

This road runs along, and almost parallel, to the hundred and fifty metre-wide Lakhiya river. Alpha Company, now commanded by Major G.M. Deboo, who had joined the battalion just two days ago, was moving astride the road, to the north of it. Delta Company was advancing on the south of the road.

Both companies hit the Lakhiya river and dug in along the river bank. Across the river, the Pakistanis were dug in and began to engage them with small arms’ fire and artillery. It seemed the stalemate would continue for a while, since neither side could cross the river without certain, heavy losses.

 

 

 

Later that afternoon, a platoon of Charlie Company, supported by a section of mortars, moved to Bhiakar and tried to scare the enemy out of its position at Nagar Kachpur position.

‘Marwah sahib especially chose to take me with him,’ Sube Singh was unable to mask his pride. ‘We gave supporting fire for his company several times. We were so effective that the Pakistanis soon called up their counter bombardment. And they were also good.’

When Pakistani artillery began raining down on them, one of the mortar men, Mokim Singh, took shelter in a brick kiln. Unfortunately, the brick kiln took a direct hit and simply disintegrated.

‘We gathered his remains in a ground sheet,’ Sube said somberly. ‘Not that there was much left to gather. We didn’t find a single piece bigger than this,’ he held his hands up, about twelve inches apart, ‘but whatever we did, we packed it up and sent it back.’ Sube seemed to struggle for words. ‘If it had not been for his tags, no one would have even known it was Mokim.’

The dog tags? Two metallic slivers with a number and name inscribed on them. In the end, that’s all that remains of a soldier. That, and some memories… In the hearts of those who do not even get one last glimpse of his mortal remains.

I wondered briefly if anyone ever opened that ground sheet. Or had it simply been cremated along with the dozens of other bodies that were being ferried back by the administrative echelons.

Would it do anyone any good to have seen those shattered remains? Of what had once been a living, breathing man? Or was it better this way? To get back a pot of ashes in an earthen jar, with a red cloth tied across the mouth. And those inevitable dog tags, of course.

For a moment, I wanted to reach for my wallet and pull mine out. It had been years since I had shed the Olive Green uniform. Even longer since I had heard the soul-shattering roar of artillery fire, or the jarring clatter of guns fired; not in anger, but with the clinical precision of a surgeon … by people trained in the art of war. But, despite the passage of years, my dog tags had remained in my wallet. As I knew they would till the very end. Shiny metallic reminders of the frail grasp we have on life.

The click of the tape recorder as it ran out intruded on the silence that had stalled in the room. That tiny metallic sound broke the severity of the moment.

‘That engagement between Charlie Company and the Pakistani defenders at Nagar Kachpur lasted over three hours,’ Tuffy spoke. He had been looking at me, as though waiting for me to be mentally present again. ‘We did not manage to dislodge them then, but the hammering we gave them must have had the desired effect.’

 

 

 

Meanwhile back along the Lakhiya river, Granthi was mighty relieved when Himmeth called him to the battalion HQ and told him that his company would get rest that night.

Two weeks had elapsed since the first Indian combat boot had stepped across the International Border. Fourteen days and nights of non-stop movement, deep behind enemy lines, and in constant combat. With the Pakistanis on the run, morale was extremely high, but fatigue had set in very deeply and everyone could do with some sleep.

However, yet again, the Gods of War would deny them that sleep.

 

 

 

The Pakistani counter-attack on Alpha Company started just as Granthi’s men were settling down for some rest.

The attack was well-planned, fiercely executed, and in full strength; as though the Pakistanis were aware that they were running out of options now and had to stop the Indians. It was a now or never kind of desperation.

Within minutes, Alpha was under pressure and the situation began to deteriorate fast.

Himmeth ordered Delta, being the closest, to reinforce Alpha Company.

Leaving behind some men to secure his location, Granthi moved fast and rushed to Alpha Company. Willy-nilly, the Pakistani attack was beaten back. However, the fight was far from over.

 

Unaware of the deployment of the Pakistani forces in and around Dacca, Himmeth had ordered two of the RCL guns to be deployed along the hundred and fifty metre wide Lakhiya river, and guard the crossing points to ensure no Pakistani troops could get across and cut off the battalion.

Lieutenant Colonel Himmeth Singh -- Deploying on the Lakhiya river

The RCL guns were placed under the command of one of the newly commissioned young officers posted with Alpha Company, who had joined the unit just a couple of months ago.

They had been in position for a while when a ferry filled with Pakistani soldiers began to nose its way across the river. Soon, the RCL guns were under fire. The JCO with the RCL detachment, thinking they were in danger of being encircled and cut off by the enemy, raised the alarm.

Who panicked and who didn’t, remains a matter of conjecture. The fact remains that the Guardsmen abandoned the RCL guns and fell back towards the battalion position.

The Pakistanis spotted the opportunity and took over the guns’ position. They did not bring the guns into use, but the position was invaluable as it allowed them to eyeball the deployment of 4 Guards. Within no time, they had deployed a Mortar OP who began to engage the Guardsmen, and inflicted thirty-three casualties.

Himmeth was furious when he came to know the RCL team team had withdrawn, leaving their guns behind.

‘I had never seen him so angry. He simply lost it,’ Glucose looked woebegone. ‘He was furious with the young officer and the JCO. The Old Man not only scolded them, he also made it clear they would both be court-martialled for cowardice.’

‘The JCO had almost twenty-three years of service then,’ Jai Singh pointed out. ‘He should have been more responsible, and should have given courage to the young officer, instead of panicking like that. But I guess such things happen in war.’

‘The youngster was one of my company officers,’ Paunchy intervened forcefully. ‘I knew him very well, and he was no coward. He was a young lad, barely out of the Academy.’

‘What happened was very unfortunate. I wish I had been there to support my boys. I would never have allowed the situation to develop the way it did. Unfortunately, I had been evacuated the previous day, and a company without its commander is like a rudderless boat,’ CK looked angry with himself.

Meanwhile, Himmeth ordered Delta Company to clear the Pakistanis and recover their RCL guns.

By now, the Pakistanis were pretty well settled in and began to engage Granthi’s men with direct fire, as well as artillery and mortars.

‘One moment there was nothing, and the very next all hell had broken loose. We were under fire from all sides,’ Granthi shook his head, perhaps still angry that he had not seen it coming.

The mortar fire was so effective that the Delta Company men were forced to seek cover. Unfortunately, several of them headed for the same culvert and took cover under it. It proved to be a fatal error, since the Pakistani OP was well-sited and had a grand view of the battlefield. The culvert took several direct hits due to which Delta took nineteen casualties. This was the biggest blow Delta Company had suffered till then. The irony was that it took place when victory was almost within reach.

The casualties would have been worse, had it not been for Lance Naik Dhuni Ram’s heroic actions. Taking his section, he began to outflank the Pakistani position from the north. Though under constant and heavy mortar fire, Dhuni Ram completed his task and managed to make it hard for the Pakistanis to hold on to to the RCL position. But by the time the Pakistanis pulled back and the Guardsmen recovered the RCL guns, Dhuni Ram had been badly wounded and was evacuated shortly thereafter.

BOOK: THE GARUD STRIKES
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