An instructor at the Siachen Battle School explaining the precautions
to be taken while deployed on the glacier
XII
A Civilian Perspective
‘Our group was like a bunch of excited school children’
As I mentioned earlier, civilian treks to Siachen were restarted by the Army in 2007. In 2008, a young colleague from NDTV, Ketki Angre, then working out of Bombay (Mumbai if you like), volunteered to go on a three week trip. Here is her account:
Staying in Mumbai at mean sea level, the attraction of experiencing life at 15,000-feet has a certain ring to it, an allure, a thrill, a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity written all over it. There was no way I was going to miss this chance.
The 2008 civilian trek participants receiving final instructions
The O P Baba temple complex
The Army was conducting its second ever civilian trek to the Siachen glacier in 2008 to let ‘civilians’ like me, see firsthand, what it was like to be manning the highest battle ground in the world.
Our group was like a bunch of excited school children that has been taken out for a picnic, eager to live the adventure of a glacier so often spoken of, yet not open to all. We went through basic training that included walking in ‘Scarpa’ shoes that I can only describe as adding two kilos of weight to each foot, using an ice axe to climb a wall of ice, walking on horizontally placed ladders to cross a valley or deep crevasse, among other things.
We were introduced to the legend of O P Baba, who is the guardian angel of the soldiers on the glacier – no expedition to the glacier can start without seeking O P Baba’s blessings. We bowed our heads in reverence, said a silent prayer and set off.
But nothing could have prepared us for what was to come. As you walk on the moraine, the only thing you become increasingly aware of, is not the beauty that surrounds you, or the clear blue sky and sun that shines on you. It is, instead, the heavy panting of your own breath, that is your constant companion, your lungs struggling to take in every little bit of oxygen there is at a height of 10,000-feet.
‘We have to go up there’
All around you, the mighty Himalayas rise in magnificence, at times mocking your small being, at times egging you on to continue. And then you notice the porters, (usually local mountain folk who carry provisions for the group) carrying more than twice the weight you have on your back, and literally walking with a spring in their step, as if they were out on a stroll. It is devastating for your morale, I can tell you, but it is also a good reminder of just what we were dealing with.
As I also had to film the trek for a documentary that I would put together later for my organisation, I hit on my next challenge. How do I keep the camera steady? I hadn’t carried a tripod, as it would only increase the weight we were carrying, and shooting was only possible when we took breaks, or stopped for other groups to catch up and re-organise. Panting as I was, keeping the camera steady for getting some decent shots was turning out to be more difficult than what I had thought. At the end of the first day of our week-long trek, we reached Camp 1. It was no small achievement, I thought, covering some 10 odd kilometres. Except that what we took a whole day, while our jawans are used to doing in a couple of hours. We nursed our bruised egos with hot chai and dry fruits that the jawans had kept ready for us.
At Camp 2, we got snowed out, and bad weather meant we could not move for two days. We realigned our plans and instead of Kumar Post at 16,000 ft, the highest we would reach was Camp 3 at 15,000 ft. That night at Camp 3, in minus 25 degrees Celsius, we were frozen to the bone. I know that unlike me, some were silently pleased that we would be starting our descent the next morning. There was relief that there would be only two more nights when we would struggle to crawl into the sleeping bags, and wake up with a start when the air you’ve exhaled has condensed, and the icy cold droplets trickle from the sleeping bag onto your face. In addition, to keep the camera batteries from draining out, and the camera from malfunctioning in the cold, I had to stuff both the camera and the spare batteries in the sleeping bag. I did have a battery charger, but it fused out the first day I tried to charge the cells. (There was a bulb in just one tent, a true luxury extended only for ladies, and it wasn’t built to take too much wattage). It was like having a camera on life support! I had to make the batteries last till the whole trek was over, without the possibility of recharging them.
In our heads, the trek was no small achievement. We had braved the biting cold, the tough terrain, struggled to breathe, walked on slippery ice, and triumphed in our own little ways, knowing fully well that what we experienced was just the tip of the iceberg, as they say.
A long walk on the glacier in the summer months
All roped up!
More soldiers have been lost to extreme weather, than to enemy fire. At some of the highest forward posts, the night temperatures can go as low as minus 60 degrees celsius. You see the same faces around you for weeks, where even having a conversation means precious energy wasted, energy that you would rather conserve, acutely aware that it is after all a battle field. Though choppers fly to many forward posts, the weather is as fickle as it comes, sunny one moment and cloudy the next. Even everyday routine like brushing and washing up is a tedious job. And then there is the serious worry of frostbites and snow blindness. High altitude pulmonary edema and high altitude cerebral edema can strike unannounced and when it comes, evacuation is only possible if the weather doesn’t play spoilsport. Or worse, feeling helpless, watching your colleague struggle to breathe, when the inclement weather has forced a rescue chopper to return. Even worse, seeing his limp body lie there waiting for the weather to clear out so that he can get back to his family, albeit, in a body bag.
For us, this trek was an adventure. Something we could narrate to our friends and families when we went back home. But for the jawans, who are on the forward posts day in and day out, in the most punishing of winters, in the most trying circumstances, simply surviving is an everyday battle.
Taking a break
Mayank Singh, a widely-travelled journalist and enthusiastic history buff works with The Sunday India magazine. He too was on the same civilian trek with Ketki Angre. Here is his account.
HEIGHTS OF VALOUR
Siachen is different in every sense, as once you reach there, your closest friends are hard ice and the Karakoram and Saltoro mountain ranges.
My meeting with Major Gopal reinforced this view in every sense.
Posted at 22,000-feet for three months, the mandatory maximum duration of stay at such heights, Major Gopal and his colleagues had been hit by the so-called “Siachen Factor”.
In 2008, down below, the entire Army was agog with the Pay Commission controversy, but Major Gopal and his fellow soldiers were blissfully unaware of the issue, which had seen an unprecedented stand taken by the military in protesting discrimination against the men and women in uniform.
As I broached the subject, all he and others could think of, were their homes, sitting before television sets, newspapers in hand, some warm soup and a normal domestic life.
Major Gopal was on his way down from the Bana post.
We first reached Base Camp, at 12,000-feet. Our instructor, Lance Naik Mohammad Latief Khan, told us to avoid being adventurous, and to stay calm, but at this height, where one felt so close to the Almighty, I just wanted to walk across the mesmerising terrain.
But, within the first hour, we thanked Khan, breathless as we were, since it took us four days to acclimatise, and it was then, that we saw the porters and link commanders. The first were people who carried our heavy luggage, scampering about like mountain goats; the second, soldiers who knew their way between camps blindfolded, as heavy snow obliterates all landmarks. Our true friends were the porters and safety ropes, the dividing line between life and death.
Hence, if the Almighty was even within reach, he had already sent his seconds-in-command – the porters and link commanders -- and their hopes lay in “OP
Baba”.
Every step is a struggle to inhale oxygen uncomfortably. The path to various glacial posts and camps is a test of both nerve and spirit. The crevices were like mouths open to engulf into their limitless nadir, and the ladders placed over them were precarious. The sound of gushing water added to the fear factor. Temperatures inside, we were told, reach as low as minus 200 degrees Celsius.
Big challenge: Crossing a crevasse
We saw the bodies of two retrieved soldiers in an intact state, and were told that they had fallen into the crevice 14 years ago. This frightening scenario notwithstanding, what seemed beautiful was the tender blue reflection of pure ice.
Nights were even more beautiful, with the stars at their clearest.
Experiencing life in Siachen, makes one realise the importance of a lungful of breath, as at this height, oxygen is rarefied.
A harsh terrain, uncertain and inclement weather and a rarefied atmosphere are principal causes of casualties on the Siachen glacier.
The situation has, however, improved. Earlier soldiers succumbed commonly to wind chilling frostbite and hypothermia, well beyond human endurance. The lack of oxygen due to the very low atmospheric pressure exposes troops to “altitude sickness”, which includes dizziness, headaches, vomiting, insomnia, dehydration, heart palpitations, pulmonary embolism and pulmonary oedema.
Many are also affected by the “Siachen Syndrome”, or psychological problems linked to physical stresses arising out of extreme altitude warfare.
The bitter cold aggravates even minor ailments or hurts old ones on a body. Touching metal can result in your skin peeling off.
A team mate, Moses Kunzang, was aware that pouring hot water over a part stuck with metal releases the skin.
Answering nature’s call while sitting on a plank of wood perched over two kerosene drums, tests your balancing skills.
To save one from snowfall and high winds, a metal pole was erected wrapped with a parachute cloth.
In answering the call of nature, Moses lost his balance, but grabbed the pole to save himself from falling on moraine. So, half the water meant for washing self, poured slowly between palm and metal pole. Amit Kumar, another team mate, started panting, lost his nerve, and then had that empty feeling.
Accommodation for the civilians
Luckily, Captain (Dr.) Manish Mishra, who was with us, correctly assessed that Amit had had an anxiety attack, but could be evacuated safely and immediately by helicopter from Camp I. But, situations can take a turn for the worse, and nobody can do anything – not even a doctor.
Avalanches are common due the extremely steep gradients of adjacent mountains. The glacier is also lacerated by treacherous crevasses. The ambient surface temperature drops below minus 40°C during the long and fluctuating Himalayan winter. High altitudes combined with low temperatures and glaciation, frequently results in blizzards with wind speeds in excess of 150 knots.
Coming face-to-face with a life threatening situation did not take long. At Camp II, some troops moving down from 20,000-feet and we moving upwards met, and suddenly the weather changed. It started snowing and visibility dropped to 10 meters. A soldier, Sepoy Amarjeet Singh, started having loose motions. A doctor gave him some pills, but there was no relief. His condition deteriorated. In such conditions, helicopters cannot fly and nobody is allowed to move, as soft snow covers all marks, which keeps one away from crevices at every step.
For the next two days, we faced incessant snowfall. Luckily, Amarjeet experienced relief by the next morning. In all this, our food stock was reduced gradually. After two days, with the weather clearing, our first target was to restock Camp II.
Proceeding to Camp III, we reached there by the evening after a seven-hour-long walk. Camp III is much narrower compared to Camps I and II. The height was 15,000-feet and the wind was picking up speed. By night, a sense of uneasiness prevailed even inside our double layered and specially ordered tented accommodation from Austria. Temperatures plummeted to minus 25 Celsius at night, and by morning, small granules of ice had formed at the spot from where I was breathing out.
But our motivation was that next day, we were going to Connaught Place or Camp IV, which is also known as the Kumar Post, and acts as the Base Camp for the higher and largely isolated reaches.
The heights and difficult conditions isolate the men, but while we were there just for a fortnight, our morale was high.
But, just think of those lodged inside the six by six feet cabins for months. The blizzard gave us time to interact. We played Antaakshari all the while, and the phone line to Bana post was linked to soldiers up there hearing us sing.
“Please come up here for a day so that we too can enjoy,” they said.
Their emotions were best summed up by Corporal Pramod: “We heard 20 days ago that you were coming. Since then, we have been waiting to see someone not in olive.”
We were to reach Camp IV next, but had to return, because of foul weather.
On our way back, we discussed what life after Siachen would be like.
Wing Commander Shobit Prakash said he would send pictures to his colleagues: They must realise what our soldiers’ face.
Yana Bey, the lady from the Indian Mountaineering Federation, said “compared to other treks, this one was much too overwhelming. I feel lost in this huge and harsh reality.”
Her pictures from Siachen will be in her drawing room, a constant inspiration.
As for me, Siachen was heaven, because it took me closer to the infinite. But, for the soldiers living in those tents, it is close to realising what hell is all about.
Indian and Pakistani troops face each other at altitudes in excess of 6000 meters above sea level. They are literally fighting on the roof of the world in extreme weather.
These extremities have been faced by our soldiers with individual courage, ingenuity and innovation in matters of survival.
The dispute over the Siachen glacier cannot be analysed in abstract. Its strategic importance needs to be assessed from a wider focus, inclusive of the state of Jammu and Kashmir.
Each step for the civilians can be painful
Summiting Sia Kangri in the Siachen glacier complex when the weather is clear, one can see Tibet, Xinjiang in China, Afghanistan and the Central Asian Republics.
Most fascinating during the walk on ice, was the thought that China was on my right and the Pakistani camps on my left, besides the knowledge that the whole area consisted of a network of strategic highways.
At stake in the Siachen dispute, is control of the northern reaches of Kashmir, not to speak of national prestige.
Siachen soldiers giving a guard of honour at the Base Camp
A camp in the higher reaches
A photographer’s delight
A well organised camp: Big change from early days
XIII
Why India Cannot Give Up Siachen
‘Don’t forget, Kargil happened because of Siachen’
In April 2012, Pakistan’s then Army Chief Ashfaq Pervez Kayani suddenly called for demilitarisation of the Siachen glacier for the “development of Pakistan and environmental reasons.” “India and Pakistan must live in peaceful coexistence as defence without development is neither viable nor acceptable,” he declared. He saw all issues dividing India and Pakistan as capable of resolution and Siachen and Sir Creek, as convenient starting points, low hanging fruits to be plucked as strong confidence building measures.
This was completely out of character and a departure from Pakistan’s position on the Siachen glacier.
So what prompted the change of heart?
Actually, it was the tragic death of 130 troops of the 6 Northern Light Infantry in a massive avalanche at Gayari on 7 April that year which triggered Gen Kayani’s new thought process. After visiting the site of the accident, Gen Kayani spoke at Skardu about the need to demilitarise Siachen. He said Pakistan was not manning those treacherous heights out of choice. “The world knows why we are in Siachen,” reiterating th
e Pakistani position that it was India which started the dispute in 1984.
But, even while announcing the desire to make peace with India on ‘Siachen and Sir Creek’, Gen Kayani was economical with the truth.
The ground reality is that Pakistani troops are nowhere near the Siachen glacier. Its deployment is on the western slopes of the Saltoro ridge, far away from the glacier and at much lower altitudes.
Indian positions on the other hand are on absolutely dominating heights on the main passes of the Saltoro ridge, Sia La and Bilafond La. As far as the Indian Army is concerned, it sees no need to withdraw from the commanding heights it controls given Pakistan’s perfidy in the past, especially in Kargil when it tried to cut-off Siachen in the summer of 1999.
Three months after Gen Kayani made the offer to demilitarise Siachen, I was in Kargil, west of Siachen and at a much lower altitude along the Line of Control (LoC) with Pakistan. Every year on 26 July, the Indian Army celebrates its victory here. Having reported on the area for 45 days during the 1999 conflict, I try and visit Kargil every year to participate in the function that pays tribute to the 500 plus soldiers who died fighting the Pakistani intruders and eventually evicting them.
But in 2012, I had one more task at hand. I wanted to formally interview for NDTV, the channel I work for, Lt Gen KT Parnaik, a highly respected General and then India’s Northern Army Commander.
The Northern Command, Indian Army’s operationally most active command, has the unique task of guarding India’s vast land borders with both China and Pakistan. Its responsibility stretches from the forbidding heights of Karakoram down to the plains of Jammu. Moreover, it has been involved in counter-insurgency operations against the infiltrating terrorists from Pakistan in the state of Jammu & Kashmir continuously for over a quarter century now. Of particular interest to me in 2012 however, was Northern Command’s reaction to Gen Kayani’s rather unexpected call to try and ‘resolve’ Siachen.
Beyond NJ 9842 Page 20