by Anam Zakaria
Some contend that the Pakistani establishment thought it could use the tense climate and brewing resentment against the state government to initiate a civil war in Indian-administered Kashmir. They wanted people to rise up against the Indian regime and to demand freedom, after which it was assumed that Kashmir would join hands with Pakistan. Operation Gibraltar was thus conceived, intended to facilitate an insurgency against Indian rule.
General Muhammad Musa, commander-in-chief of the Pakistan Army during the 1965 war, is recorded to have stated that Operation Gibraltar ‘envisaged, on a short-term basis, sabotage of military targets, distribution of arms to the people of occupied Kashmir and initiation of a guerilla movement there with a view to starting an uprising in the Valley eventually’.15
However, despite General Musa acknowledging Operation Gibraltar, Pakistan has, over the years, tried to maintain that an Indian offensive in 1965 led to the war. It has also claimed that when India advanced towards Lahore in September 1965, it was an unprovoked move. A plaque from the Army Museum in Lahore reads:
By the end of 1964, India achieved its military goals and started flexing its muscles. Early in 1965, India attacked and occupied the Pakistani enclave of Dahagram in East Pakistan. In April 1965, India tried to seize the disputed territory of Rann of Kutch by military action. Getting a drubbing there, the Indian leaders threatened to avenge their defeat on a ‘ground of their own choosing’. In the aftermath, Indian forces were moved and poised threateningly against Pakistan. Then came a series of aggressions against Azad Kashmir (Kargil, Tithwal, Haji Pir Pass), shelling of a Pakistani village Awan Sharif in Punjab, and preparation of a bigger offensive in Bhimber. Pakistan was forced to undertake action in Chamb to forestall this Indian offensive. In order to further her offensive plans, particularly after their total failure in Kashmir, without declaration of war, the Indian Army crossed the international border and attacked Pakistan on 6 September 1965.
Over the years, Operation Gibraltar has received little focus in Pakistan, particularly in government-backed history lessons. For instance, a passage from a government-endorsed school textbook in Pakistan reads: ‘India committed an open aggression against Pakistan to materialize its expansionist intentions and attacked Pakistan on the night of 6 September (1965).’ Among the reasons listed for the war, the book explains, ‘Pakistan was established against the wishes of the Hindus, so they never accepted Pakistan from the bottom of their hearts. The wonderful progress and stability of Pakistan constituted a major concern for them. So they started launching aggressive actions against Pakistan.’ While the book acknowledges that the Kashmir conflict was the real cause of the war, it offers an oversimplified and filtered version of events: ‘As a punishment for supporting Kashmiri people morally and raising the Kashmir issue all over the world, India imposed war on Pakistan in 1965.’16 The book was distributed by the Government of Punjab for the 2016-2017 academic year in all government schools in the province. As one may notice, Operation Gibraltar does not make it to the pages. Hence, India’s retaliation to the operation is deemed an aggressive move in the public imagination, one that Pakistan was forced to defend itself against.
Another retired officer of a senior rank who I speak to tells me more about the 1965 war, in which he fought from the Lahore front.
‘A few months before this war, we had made several gains against India in the Rann of Kutch,’17 he starts, ‘India had lost against the Chinese in 1962 and stood defeated. The atmosphere was jubilant in Pakistan; we thought we would be able to easily succeed. We were also convinced that India would never retaliate on the Punjab frontier. After all, it had not retaliated on the front in 1948, during the first Indo-Pak war… we thought we would launch a guerilla operation in Kashmir and easily free Kashmiris from occupation without having to fight an all-out war.’
Stanley Wolpert, in his book Zulfi Bhutto of Pakistan, corroborates this. He writes that the then foreign minister, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, argued that ‘India’s own weakened internal political and economic condition left it “in no position” to “risk a general war of unlimited duration” against Pakistan.’ Bhutto’s ‘authoritative sources’ had convinced him that in the light of the Kutch conflict, Pakistan’s military strength was superior to that of India’s. While it was imagined that India might attempt ‘a general war of limited duration’, it was assumed that this war would be waged against East Pakistan rather than the well-defended Punjab frontier. According to Wolpert, Bhutto assumed that ‘This strategy could be countered by Pakistan forces striking “north to join up with Nepal and completely isolate Indian forces in Assam”.’ In such an event, Bhutto hoped that China would also move in, thereby compelling Indian troops to ‘fight on two fronts’.18
Convinced that Pakistan would be able to contain any retaliation by India, Operation Gibraltar seemed like a win-win. The senior officer says, ‘We had thought it all out and I believe we would have been successful had Major General Akhtar Hussain, who was the GOC (general officer commanding) of the 12th Division, not been stopped at the last moment.’
Major General Akhtar Hussain Malik’s 12th Division was responsible for the defence of the 400-mile stretch of the border of Pakistan-administered Kashmir—from Ladakh in the north to Chamb in the south—and had trained around 5,000-7,000 men for Operation Gibraltar.19 (According to BBC, estimates of the Gibraltar Force range from 7,000 to well over 20,000,20 though some Indian reports quote a higher figure of 30,000.)21 They comprised the Pakistan Army’s Special Service Group (SSG) as well as soldiers from ‘Azad’ Kashmir, ‘Northern Scouts and a local paramilitary group in Azad Kashmir known as Mujahids.’22 Dressed as locals, they infiltrated the Kashmir Valley under this covert operation.
However, they were unsuccessful in igniting a revolt—according to the officer, this was due to Operation Gibraltar being a rushed affair and the locals not being fully prepared—and the Indian forces proceeded across the ceasefire line, capturing key posts in Kargil, Tithwal, Uri and Haji Pir Pass. A second operation, Operation Grand Slam, was then launched, which intended to directly cut off Kashmir from India. Major General Akhtar Hussain Malik commanded this operation and as a keen bridge player, named it Operation Grand Slam, after a winning bridge move.23
Whereas Operation Gibraltar relied on covert infiltration, its sequel, Operation Grand Slam, aimed to capture Chamb before directly attacking ‘the vital Akhnoor Bridge (Akhnoor is 38.62 kilometres inside Indian-administered Kashmir,24 in Jammu district), which was not only the lifeline of an entire infantry division in Jammu and Kashmir but could also be used to threaten Jammu, an important logistical point for Indian forces.’25 Indian journalist Manoj Joshi notes that, if successful, ‘Operation Grand Slam would have immediately cut off an entire Indian division in Poonch and Rajauri, and could have led to the cutting of the Jammu-Srinagar highway as well.’26
‘Capturing Akhnoor would have meant cutting Indian troops off from their supply line,’ the officer I spoke to echoes. ‘No supplies would have reached them. India would have been cut off from makbooza Kashmir and we would have been able to free the Kashmiris. It was a sure-shot victory plan.’ Initially, the army advanced as per schedule, capturing Chamb on 1 September 1965.27 However, instead of proceeding further towards Tawi river, Major General Akhtar Hussain was told to stop and report back to the operational headquarters in Kharian,28 a city in Gujrat district in Pakistani Punjab.
‘Akhtar Hussain was supposed to attack the Akhnoor Bridge but for some reason President Ayub Khan stated that the 12th Division had done enough and a new division from Peshawar would come and help them conquer Akhnoor,’ says the officer, disappointment showing on his face. ‘This caused delay and broke the momentum of the entire operation.’ He pauses for a moment and then lets out a laugh. Leaning forward, he comments, ‘By this time the Indians were saying, Yeh to ghus baithe hain (they forced their way in), and had begun to run away. We could have easily captured Akhnoor! But Akhtar Hussain was told to wait for the 7th Division to
arrive, led by Yahya Khan (who later became the president of Pakistan). This cost us Akhnoor because the Indians kept looking back and wondering why we weren’t advancing further, and eventually they were able to secure Akhnoor,’ he turns pensive, slumping back in his chair.29
There has been some speculation in Pakistan as to why Major-General Akhtar Hussain was prevented from proceeding ahead to capture Akhnoor, as per plan. Different theories have been put forward, some claiming that President Ayub Khan was under pressure from the US to not advance further. Others, like the officer I met, claim that the president wanted a Pathan like himself to advance in the army and not a Punjabi like Major General Akhtar Hussain. After all, winning the war and freeing Kashmir would make a hero out of Hussain overnight. President Ayub wanted to make sure that only the ‘right’ hero came forward. Former prime minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who was the foreign minister during the 1965 war, also commented that, ‘Had General Malik not been stopped in the Chamb-Jaurian sector, the Indian forces in Kashmir would have suffered serious reverses, but Ayub Khan wanted to make his favourite, General Yahya Khan, a hero.’30 Perhaps it was just that, or perhaps it had to do with Akhtar Hussain’s religious beliefs.
Major General Akhtar Hussain belonged to the Ahmadiyya community, declared non-Muslim a few years after the 1965 war. The Ahmadiyyas have repeatedly been sidelined and persecuted in Pakistan’s history. By the time of the 1965 war, there was anti-Ahmadiya sentiment in the air, with hardline opinions being voiced against them. In fact, the very first martial law in Pakistan was implemented in 1953 as a result of the riots against the Ahmadiyya community in Lahore. Given that Pakistan had asserted a right over Kashmir due to its burgeoning Muslim population, it would be ironic if a soon-to-be non-Muslim were responsible for claiming it, turning into a saviour overnight.
The end result was that contrary to Pakistan’s expectation, there was an all-out war on the international border, with India advancing towards Lahore as a reaction to Operations Gibraltar and Grand Slam.
The 1965 war saw heightened emotions, patriotic songs, and a growing desire to claim Kashmir. Madam Noor Jehan, Pakistan’s leading singer, dedicated songs to the Pakistan Army, ordinary civilians came forward to deliver food and ration to army jawans, and newspapers were splashed with news of Indian atrocities and Pakistani gains. The media also cashed in on the prevailing sentiment, encouraging people to support the struggle.
Headlines such as ‘Pakistan will not fail Kashmiris’ were broadcast over radio and carried in newspapers, and the desire to step forward, in whatever capacity, consumed the nation. Kashmir had captured the imagination of the country. Freeing it would be Pakistan’s greatest victory to date.
Though a ceasefire was eventually agreed upon, with Indian prime minister Lal Bahadur Shastri and Pakistani president Ayub Khan signing the Tashkent Agreement and agreeing to withdraw to pre-August lines no later than 25 February 1966,31 both India and Pakistan claimed great success. Pakistani textbooks are rife with victory tales. Here is an excerpt from a Class 5 NWFP (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa) textbook in 2002: ‘The Pakistan Army conquered several areas of India and when India was on the verge of being defeated, she ran to the United Nations to beg for a ceasefire. Magnanimously, thereafter, Pakistan returned all the conquered territories to India.’32 Another passage from a Class 9 textbook, endorsed by the Government of Punjab and taught across schools as part of the 2016-17 curriculum, asserts: ‘Although Pakistan had far less military and economic resources as compared to those of India, yet the armed forces of Pakistan, filled with the spirit of jihad, forced an enemy many times bigger than it to face a humiliated (sic) defeat.’33
Several Pakistani civilians I interviewed about the 1965 war also emphasized Pakistan’s brilliance in combat. The officer, too, proudly told me in our sitting that, ‘The Pakistan Army did not let a single Indian hand or foot touch the Bambawali-Ravi-Bedian (BRB) canal water. All other claims are false.’34
Similarly, India continues to applaud its army’s efforts in the war. A headline from The Times of India, from September 1965, reads, ‘Our troops on the outskirts of Lahore. IAF planes blast military installations.’35 Another reads, ‘Pakistani army in disarray. Half of enemy tank force knocked out.’36
Ironically, however, rarely in these reports of victory and loss do we come across voices of the Kashmiris, for whom this battle was ostensibly fought. For the Kashmiris, the 1965 war was another battle that failed to change their status quo. It was also a battle that cost many of them their lives and homes. Some ‘Azad’ Kashmiris I spoke to mentioned Muslim refugees who came to Pakistan-administered Kashmir during the war. According to the Department of Rehabilitation and Relief of the AJK government, it is estimated that 40,000 people (about 10,000 families), migrated from Indian-administered Kashmir during 1965. It is believed that because some Muslim inhabitants had tried to help the Pakistani forces during the war, the Indian Army allegedly unleashed a ‘reign of terror’ on these Muslims after the war ended, and they had no choice but to leave their homes and run across the LoC to Pakistan-administered Kashmir.37
Somewhere in the midst of these tales of conquest and triumph, in the midst of grand celebrations of Pakistan Defence Day every year, Kashmiri voices have been silenced. Defence Day commemorates the 1965 war, and what the nation sees as its victory in defending itself against India. In 2015, India also celebrated a ‘Victory Carnival’ to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the war, reportedly spending about $5.5 million on the event.38 In response, Pakistan celebrated Defence Day with even more gusto than usual. For several years, the momentum of celebrations had cooled down in the country, especially in the light of terror threats. However, with India gearing up for grand celebrations, Pakistan did not want to be left behind. Nowhere in these jubilant revelries do we find mention of the Kashmiris that were the most affected by the war. What did they lose? What did they gain? No one really knows and not many seem to care.
In September 2015, fifty years after the war, a BBC reporter managed to track down two survivors of the war, who shared personal accounts of the combat. One of the survivors, Qurban Ali, belonged to Pakistan-administered Kashmir and was a soldier in the Pakistan Army’s ‘Azad’ Kashmir (AK) Regiment in 1965. He told the BBC that he was one of the people who volunteered for the Gibraltar Force at the tender age of twenty. The force consisted of ‘a mixture of volunteers from the army, mainly those belonging to Azad Kashmir, and fresh recruits from the Pakistan-administered side of Kashmir who were hurriedly trained and launched in the Valley (Indian-administered Kashmir) in late July/early August (1965)’.39
With the goal of destroying India’s communication system, Qurban Ali and others infiltrated Indian-administered Kashmir with ammunition, arms and dry food ration on their backs.40 Ali told the BBC that out of his group of 180 men, most were civilian recruits. ‘There were six civilians for every ten men in our group.’41 Mohammad Nazeer, whom the BBC also met, was one such civilian from Kotli in ‘Azad’ Kashmir. As a young schoolboy of fourteen, he became ‘part of a team that hit more than a dozen Indian posts in the Poonch region’.42
During the war, Mohammad Nazeer witnessed the death of a fellow fighter, Mohammad Yousaf, who belonged to his village, located north of Tatta Pani in the Kotli region of ‘Azad’ Kashmir. It was Nazeer who dragged his body back to the Pakistani post. ‘Yousaf, a tall man of about twenty-three, had been married for only a year when he joined the Gibraltar Force. A mortar shell hit him when he was providing cover fire to his team in a shootout during the withdrawal. His wife, Nisha Begum, was seven months pregnant with her first—and only—child.’43 BBC reporter Ilyas Khan, who documented these stories, tells me that ‘the Gibraltar Force was recruited from Azad Kashmir exclusively because they (Pakistan) wanted to paint it as an indigenous Kashmiri uprising. Most recruits came from Kotli district itself’. Therefore, the damage of war was perhaps felt the worst by these Kashmiris.
It is anybody’s guess as to how many such stories are ou
t there, for the human account of the war has hardly ever been explored. No one really knows how many Kashmiri bodies and voices were buried and how many innocent people became refugees even as mighty victory tales were propagated on both sides of the border, tales that suffocated the same Kashmiris it was meant to free.
1971 War
Six years after the 1965 war, India and Pakistan clashed once more, this time in a war over East Pakistan, which led to the creation of Bangladesh. Though the war was between East and West Pakistan, and later between India and Pakistan, Kashmir was inevitably pulled into the conflict and witnessed another battle over its fate.
On 25 March 1971, Pakistan had sent its army into East Pakistan to fight what it perceived as ‘separatist elements’ bent upon breaking up the country. As the conflict spiralled and India, the ‘arch nemesis’, became involved in the war, the clash began to spread to other areas, including Kashmir. From my conversations with some army officers over the years, I learnt that Pakistan had chosen to launch an offensive in ‘Azad’ Kashmir in hopes of pressurizing India to divert its resources from East Pakistan to the disputed territory. The army had anticipated that if they were able to inflict damage on Indian forces in Kashmir, it would weaken Indian foothold in East Pakistan, and thereafter give Pakistan a chance to regain key positions in the eastern wing, where it was struggling to maintain control. After all, the local East Pakistani population was deeply resentful of West Pakistan’s hegemony and its military operation by this time. The army could not count on their support against India. Kashmir—which was assumed to be closer to Pakistan than India not least because of its burgeoning Muslim population—was deemed its best bet to gain leverage. If India moved its resources and efforts to Kashmir to defend itself, Pakistan could work towards securing East Pakistan.