The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories

by Rachna Bisht Rawat

  18 July 1948, 1. 30 a. m.

  The path that leads from D Company’s forward position to Darapari is barely one metre wide; on both sides are deep gorges and the soldiers are moving ahead silently in the dark; loaded rifles in their hands. D Company has been tasked with clearing Darapari and after that had been secured C Company is to move in, pass through, attack and capture the second feature. Nighttime has been chosen for the offensive deliberately so as not to alert the enemy soldiers and to take them unawares. ‘Nobody will talk, light a match or even cough,’ Piru Singh, whose platoon is leading the attack, tells his men and they nod in agreement. Up above somewhere are the Pakistanis, and Piru Singh is sure they have the path in their gun-sights. Alerting them to the presence of the Indian Army soldiers climbing up would be suicidal.

  Though intelligence reports say that the enemy could not have had time to make proper trenches and hence it would be easy to throw them out, these reports turn out to be wrong. Unknown to the soldiers, the enemy has dug five bunkers that overlook this narrow path and had it covered completely by three medium machine guns (MMGs). The Pakistanis are also anticipating an attack and are alert, so the moment the advancing soldiers reach close to their bunkers, they open fire. D Company is trapped in this bottleneck and caught completely unaware. Bullets and shells fly in the cold night which reverberates with the screams of hit soldiers. Within a short span of 30 minutes, as many as 51 soldiers become casualty to the machine guns, grenade attacks and 2-inch and 3-inch mortars.

  Suddenly there is complete chaos. If at that crucial moment, Piru Singh does not step in and decide to put his own life at risk to further the advance of his company, the battle would be lost right then.

  Piru Singh is with the forward section. Half of his men have fallen already and he can see them bleeding, limbs ripped apart, their moans filling the gaps in the din of the crossfire. Some of them are dead, others disabled by their injuries. Piru Singh himselfhas miraculously escaped though his clothes are singed and ripped by the grenade attacks and his arms and legs are bleeding from shrapnel injuries. He knows that the only way to tackle this attack is to silence the machine guns that are breathing fire on the mountain. Completely unmindful of his own safety, he makes a dash for the nearest bunker from where the machine-gun fire is coming. Rushing through the hail of bullets, he sprays the enemy soldiers lodged in the trench with Sten-gun fire. Before they realize he is there, he jumps in and bayonets the men handling the gun. They fall with loud screams of pain and shock and the gun falls silent.

  By then the damage is done and Piru Singh realizes that all his comrades are dead. He is the only one left alive in his section. Screaming in anger, he leaps across the boulders to the next MMG post. The enemy have noticed his lone act and direct fire at him. A grenade flung at him finds its mark. It wounds him in the face and eyes but Piru Singh is beyond pain and discomfort. He doesn’t notice the blood dripping down his chin and seeping into his shirt collar.

  Climbing out of the trench, he wipes the blood out of his eyes and starts lobbing grenades at the next enemy position. Walking through the attacking fire, he makes his way to the second bunker and, climbing in, bayonets the two soldiers manning the second MMG. Two of the guns have now fallen silent but he knows there is one more.

  By now, he is starting to lose consciousness because of the excessive blood loss. His eyes are shutting and the blood is dripping right into them. By sheer dint of will power, Piru Singh forces his eyes to stay open. He pulls himself out of the second trench with great difficulty and shouting out the battalion war cry ‘Raja Ramchandra ki Jai’, he pulls out a grenade. He has not reached the third bunker when a bullet hits him in the head.

  Piru Singh knows he is falling; he wants to reach the next machine gun but he no longer has any power over his limbs. Grenade in hand, he tries to walk but his legs collapse under him. Even as he drops to the ground, he manages to remove the pin from the last grenade and lobs it at the third bunker. The grenade traces an arch and as Piru Singh lies breathing his last on the ridge of Darapari, he wills his eyes to stay open. He watches the grenade find its mark. A loud blast rings out and he watches the bunker collapse, killing the enemy soldiers and silencing the MMG inside. Piru Singh Shekhawat finally closes his eyes.

  C Company commander witnesses this act of heroism while directing fire in support of the attacking company. For his unmatched bravery, inspiring example and superhuman courage in the face of the enemy, CHM Piru Singh is awarded the Param Vir Chakra posthumously. The 6th Battalion, Rajputana Rifles, is awarded the Battle Honour of Darapari. In a letter to Piru Singh’s mother, the then Prime Minister of India, Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru writes; ‘He paid with his life for his singularly brave act, but he left for the rest of his comrades a unique example of single-handed bravery and determined cold courage. The country is grateful for this sacrifice made in the service of the Motherland, and it is our prayer that this may give you some peace and solace.’

  Piru Singh Shekhawat was born on 20 May 1918 in Rampura Beri village of Churu, Rajasthan, then Rajputana. He came from a large agricultural family and was one of seven siblings; he was the youngest of three brothers and had four sisters.

  Piru began school at the age of six, but right from the beginning he did not like any kind of restriction. School became a daily punishment for this free-spirited, happy- go-lucky child and finally one day, he decided he had had enough. Flinging his slate at his teacher, Piru ran away from his classroom. He never returned, preferring to tend to the fields with his father rather than sit inside a boring, restrictive classroom. Piru was fond of hunting and roaming the forests and now had all the time for the things he loved.

  The Army had always appealed to him as a career and he kept going to recruitment camps till he was selected. At 18, he joined the Army, coincidentally on his birthday—20 May 1936. He was sent to 10/1 Punjab. After training for a year at Jhelum he was posted to 5/1 Punjab. Though he had hated school, once in the Army, where he always wanted to be, Piru quickly cleared his promotional exams one after the other and soon became a lance naik and then, within a year, a naik. He was posted as an instructor in the Punjab Regimental Centre at Jhelum. In May 1945, he was appointed company havaldar major. He even went to Japan after World War II ended to serve with the Commonwealth Occupational Forces. By the time he returned in September 1947, India and Pakistan had become two countries. Being a part of the Rajput segment of 5/1 Punjab, Piru was sent to 6 Raj. Rif.

  These were the terrible days when the Pakistani Army, in connivance with Pathan raiders, were attacking Jammu and Kashmir. Piru’s battalion was flown to Kashmir and was part of the force used to push the raiders back beyond Uri. This was the background in which Piru Singh showed exemplary bravery and posthumously won his Param Vir Chakra.

  He died on 18 July 1948. He was 30 years old.

  CONGO—1961

  India became a founder member of the United Nations (UN) on 24 October 1945.

  One of the major roles of the UN has been to bring about world peace. In this endeavour to maintain peace, the UN Peacekeeping force has unfortunately had to often resort to arms.

  The Indian Army is the second largest contributor of troops to the UN missions and has taken part in as many as 31 such operations, of which Congo was one. Nearly 100 officers and men have lost their lives till now in these missions to ensure world peace. Their sacrifices often fade quickly from public memory since the soldiers die in a foreign land, fighting for a foreign country. In the UN operations in Congo, 1960, Captain Gurbachan Sigh Salaria of 3/1 Gorkha Rifles was posthumously decorated with the Param Vir Chakra.

  The Congo mission of 1960 is considered one of the biggest UN missions of its time; it had under command at least 20, 000 troops.

  A brief background to the problem: since 1878, Congo, now Zaire, was ruled by Belgium, a country which is about one twentieth its size. In January 1960, Belgium agreed to give Congo its independence. Elections were held and in June 1960 Belgian Congo bec
ame the Democratic Republic of Congo.

  There was a catch. The Congolese Army continued to be commanded by Belgium’s Lieutenant General Emile Janssens, with an all-Belgian officer force. There were no Congolese officers, which gave rise to great dissent and soon after independence, the Army declared mutiny. Congolese soldiers demanded better salaries and the expulsion of Belgian officers. There were anti-Belgian riots. The Belgians left Congo, but a civil war situation developed in the country.

  Belgium quickly moved its own army into Congo, with the aim of protecting its citizens. Since this was carried out without the permission of the Congolese government, the government ordered expulsion of all Belgian troops. However, the provincial president, Moise Tshombe, announced that Katanga, the richest province of Congo, was seceding. Congo reached out for UN help and asked for military aid to protect Congo from Belgium’s perceived colonial threat.

  Troops of the UN Peacekeeping Mission landed in Congo in mid-July 1960 and were immediately deployed in the capital. When the UN decided that military intervention would be required to bring peace and order in Congo, India contributed a brigade of around 3000 men to the UN force.

  A decision was taken to send one brigade to Congo, and 99 Infantry Brigade was picked for the task. 3/1 Gorkha Rifles was part of 99 Infantry Brigade. Most of the battalion was airlifted from Delhi to Leopoldville in Congo. The orders came suddenly and the soldiers were shifted from peacetime duties in India to a warlike situation in Congo.

  After three injections, for yellow fever, cholera and tetanus, the Gorkhas left in US Air Force Globemasters that took off from Palam Airport. Major Gurbachan Salaria reached Leopoldville on 16 March 1961. On 5 December, under orders to clear a roadblock established by the gendarmerie at a strategic roundabout at Elizabethville, Katanga, Gurbachan and two sections of brave Gorkha soldiers attacked the position frontally, and in the daring assault Captain Gurbachan Singh Salaria was killed inflicting a cutting defeat on the enemy.

  The UN mission was a very complex one but it is regarded as one of the most successful even though there were many casualties on both sides. For his leadership, courage, unflinching devotion to duty and complete disregard for personal safety, Captain Gurbachan Singh Salaria was posthumously awarded the Param Vir Chakra.

  Gurbachan Singh Salaria

  Elizabethville, Katanga

  5 December 1961, 1.12p.m.

  Sixteen small, slim Gorkha soldiers stand quietly in the shrubbery, their olive green combats blending in. In their hands they hold their. 303 rifles and between their teeth, their khukris, blades glinting dangerously in the afternoon sun.

  The soldiers are still1500 yards from Roundabout, the location they have been ordered to close in on. They were to approach from the airport side, along with a troop ofSwedish armoured personnel carriers, and block the gendarmerie’s withdrawal route. However, they had run into an ambush and now have enemy fire coming at them from a subsidiary location. Just a little way ahead stand the hutments that have been deserted by the locals and converted into bunkers by the revolting gendarmerie of Katanga. The enemy has two armoured cars and 90 men holed up in trenches and on rooftops, equipped with semi-automatic guns, far superior to the obsolete. 303 rifles that the Gorkhas are using, the pre-World War II rifles painfully tedious to handle. After every round is fired, the bolt has to be pulled up and brought back to eject the cartridges and then moved forward to load fresh ones. Khukris, their traditional Nepali knives, are much, much faster. That is why the Gorkhas have unsheathed them and are now waiting for orders to attack.

  ‘We will storm their location,’ orders their company commander, Captain Gurbachan Singh Salaria, his cool, no- nonsense voice cutting through the moist heat of the afternoon.

  The men get into position. They steel their hearts against all fear of death and when Salaria yells out their war cry, ‘Jai Mahakali, Aayo Gorkhali’, breaking into a sprint towards the enemy location, they follow.

  Salaria is the first to charge. He runs across with his gun blazing, bared khukri clasped in his mouth, flashing in the sunlight. Taking on the first trench, he shoots dead the big gendarmerie on the left. From the corner of his eye he catches movement to his right, turns around and, gripping the khukri with his right hand, whips it fiercely through the air, slicing the man’s horrified face. It rips off an eye and runs down his nose, slicing it into two bloody halves that bare the cartilage. Salaria’s trained hand followed the standard slashing drill of right to left, left to right and, blood spraying from his lacerated face, the man falls into the trench, his intact eye still open in shock and terror.

  With a snarl, Salaria turns to the next man, the blood-soaked blade glinting. He leaps into the trench and cuts the throat of the enemy soldier, who hasn’t even had time to cock his rifle. A warm spray of red splashes across Salaria’s sweat-soaked face. He wipes it with the sleeve of his shirt and turns to the next trench.

  2 December 1961

  Capt. Salaria, with one platoon of Alpha Company, is ordered to take over the protection duty of a refugee camp in Elizabethville. Around the same time, there is a skirmish between two drunken gendarmerie, who are trying to molest a Congolese woman, and soldiers of the peacekeepingforce. It has led to a shootout. Though no one is hurt, it has resulted in the nearby gendarmerie garrison creating a roadblock and, over the following days, they manage to create a lot of trouble. Fourteen UN personnel are abducted in those days of trouble. Earlier in November, Major Ajeet, also from 3/1 Gorkha Rifles—who had been tasked to force the release of two kidnapped UN officials—had been abducted by the gendarmerie along with his driver. While Ajeet never returned, the driver’s body was later found wrapped in green canvas. He had been shot at point-blank range. Ajeet had most certainly been taken hostage but all efforts to trace him were unsuccessful. He was reported missing and later declared dead.

  The abduction of Ajeet is playing heavily on Salaria’s mind when he goes in for the final battle. He has been seething with fury about this cowardly kidnap of a peacekeeping officer on duty. Alpha Company is guarding the refugee camp when, around 9 a. m. on 5December, orders come for them to clear the roadblock created by the Katangese gendarmerie at Roundabout, on the route to the airport. It has to be done immediately because the block is aimed at stifling the lifeline of the UN forces that depend upon planes for not just rations, arms and ammunition, but also the evacuation of the dead and the wounded.

  Sitting in his Dehradun house, retired Major General R. P. Singh, AVSM, VSM, who has written A Star on the Mount of Jupiter on Captain Salaria, giving the Indian brigade’s account in the United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Congo, talks about Salaria, his voice soft. Gen R. P. was the battalion adjutant during that operation. It was the morning of 5 December 1961, he remembers, when he spoke to Salaria on the radio set and briefed him on the plan to attack and clear the Roundabout road block. In clear, concise terms he told Salaria what his orders were. He was to take a platoon of the Alpha Company and block the gendarmerie’s withdrawal route, attacking them at midday, when they would be least expecting an attack.

  Around 11. 50 a. m. Salaria reported to him that he would be moving out of the camp in 20 minutes. The two lost contact while the platoon was moving, but, an hour later, Salaria sent a message over the radio saying he was under heavy machine- gun fire, which seemed to be coming from four different directions. He said his men were engaged in a gun battle with the enemy and that they had managed to blow up two of the enemy’s armoured cars with their rocket launcher.

  In his voice was a note of jubilation. This, he felt, was the moment he had been waiting for. He was very confident about what he wanted to do next. Though Maj Gen Singh remembers that he warned Salaria to assess the situation very carefully before taking any further steps, Salaria had curtly replied, ‘I am going for the attack. I am sure I will win’.

  ‘That was the last conversation he had with me,’ Maj Gen Singh remembers, his gravelly voice heavy with 50-year-old memories. ‘It required she
er naked courage to do what he did. Leaving his radio set and operator behind, he just charged ahead in broad daylight with his handful of Gorkhas.’

  Salaria was like a man possessed. He had lost count of how many men he had killed; he’d turned into a killing machine, flinging grenades, bayoneting men and slicing through necks with his khukri. Maj Ajeet’s abduction and the murder of his driver had been on his mind for many days now. He was convinced that Ajeet had been killed and his heart shrank at just how painful his death must have been. The mercenaries were cold-blooded killers with no conscience. They needed to be taught a lesson and he was going to teach as many as he could. Here and now. For him, it was a meditative moment. He lost all fear of pain or death. As he charged at the gendarmerie, all instincts of self-preservation were forgotten and he became a yogic warrior as he wreaked havoc on the battlefield.

  With immense satisfaction he watched the much larger group of enemy soldiers scatter and run in terror of the tiny group of Gorkhas. They had never encountered such a ferocious enemy before. His soldiers had instilled terror with their savage charge and their deadly use of the khukri—a weapon the enemy had never seen before. In the distance, fumes were still rising from the armoured car that his men had knocked out with their rocket launcher. It was unbelievable, but they had chased away a 90-strong enemy force of men, who were bigger and equipped with the latest arms and ammunition. Around him were strewn the corpses of the gendarmerie, stunned disbelief writ large on their lifeless faces.

  Salaria had just bayoneted a man who had been trying to escape, when a burst of automatic fire from another fleeing enemy soldier sprayed into his neck. He felt his neck and found it covered in blood. Two bullets had pierced his neck. The blood was seeping down and soaking his shirt. Right ahead he could see the gendarmerie running away. Some of his brave and gutsy Gorkhas were still giving chase.