by Mukul Deva
‘The artillery and mortars were still pounding at us, but by now we were also becoming somewhat used to them,’ Mukund added after a moment’s thought. ‘I don’t mean we were taking it lightly or anything because every now and then they would get lucky and someone would get injured. But…’ he shrugged, ‘you know how it is … how long can anyone stay hunkered down?’
Also, by now, hunger pangs had begun gnawing at the RCL gunners. The mud, slush and river water had ruined the food they had been man packing. Even water was running low. Mukund, of course, had run dry several hours ago.
So, braving the occasional artillery shell that lit up the sky sporadically, and the firefly-like pinpricks of machine guns, Mukund forayed for food. There were a couple of abandoned houses around, but the pickings were slim and Mukund returned empty-handed.
The RCL gunners slept on empty stomachs yet again. Not that they slept much; the constant rumble of guns ensured that.
And with the new dawn came new orders—for the RCL detachment to link up with Delta Company.
It had been a long night for Delta Company as well. By now casualties had mounted and, as with the rest of the unit, the food was ruined and there was very little water too.
Granthi had finished briefing Himmeth about the situation and was walking away when Captain Maninder called out to him.
‘Don’t let them send me back, sir,’ Maninder had overheard the conversation between his Company Commander and the Commandant, and knew Granthi had been ordered to get the wounded and dead back. ‘Please, I need to be with the boys. I will be fine. Really.’
‘LM was crying… He was a very fine regimental officer,’ Granthi suddenly broke off. Struggling, but not succeeding in holding back his tears.
We all looked away.
‘Bravo Company had been pinned down for hours by now. Things were going from bad to worse really fast,’ said Midha as he re-lived those moments. ‘I could see the enemy loading and firing their 2-inch mortars at us. They were so close we could even hear them talking.’
The dead bodies had begun to accumulate. In addition to the dozen that had been wounded, another six, including Captain Sundaram, the Artillery OP, had given up their lives. So intense and accurate was the firing that the guardsmen could not even get out of the trenches. Consequently, by now, the stench of urine and excreta mingled with that of blood and gunpowder.
Unlike the others, one of the guardsmen could not countenance answering nature’s call in his foxhole, and neither could he hold it out any longer. Steeling himself, he headed out of the foxhole.
‘I couldn’t see who it was, but he did not make it very far,’ Midha gave a sad headshake. ‘One of the artillery shells landed almost directly on him. There was little left…’ his voice trailed away, into a long silence.
‘There was nothing we could do about our clothes, which were totally covered in mud and slush,’ Midha grimaced, ‘but I just could not think of keeping my wet socks on even for a minute longer. So the minute there was a little lull in the firing, I took off my boots and socks, to dry them out.’
He continued: ‘Just then a 2-inch mortar bomb landed with a dull crump, barely a few feet away. Shards of splinters sprayed all around. I took a couple of them in my hand and my arm. At first, the shock was so much that I did not even realize I had been hit, and then even when the pain began I was not sure how badly I was injured. So I made my way across to a building some distance away and took shelter, in the space under the stairs. Just then another 2” mortar bomb landed next to me again and this time I took some splinters in the sole of my foot.’ He grimaced: ‘That hurt a lot.’
‘Then? Did they evacuate you?’ I asked.
‘Evacuate? Are you kidding? There was so much firing and the Pakistanis were literally in our faces. Trying to get anyone out from there would have meant certain death. Not that I was the only one… By now the body count was climbing rapidly. Luckily, my bones had not been shattered, so I was managing,’ he answered.
Bandaging the wound with a field dressing, Midha got back into the trenches and the firefight resumed, with the odds heavily loaded against the guardsmen. Food had been ruined by the slush, and water had run out. Ammunition also had started running low, forcing them to use it as sparingly as possible. They had no way of knowing when replenishments would reach them. After all, now the Pakistani defences at Akhaura lay between them and India.
Just when they thought things could get no worse, a Pakistani tank came up along the railway line.
The very first round fired by the tank hit the tree just beside Midha.
‘I was starting to feel like a bloody lightning conductor. First the mortars had been following me around and now the tank.’
The tree was split apart, right down the middle.
A few more rounds from the tank’s main gun wracked Bravo Company, before the tank fell silent, unable to spot a worthy target. However, it remained there, just beside the railway line, barely two hundred metres away, keeping a hawk’s eye on Bravo Company.
Located between Midha and Kharbanda was Guardsman Kalu with his trusted 3.5” RPG. Midha wanted to take a shot at the tank with it, but the more experienced Kharbanda held him back. He was aware that the minute the RPG fired, it and the men around it would be dead meat; the RPG may or may not have been able to take it out, but the tank was just too close to miss.
With not many other options available to them, Midha decided to call for artillery and mortar support. It may or may not do much damage to the tanks, but would definitely impose caution on the Pakistanis and force them to keep their heads down.
On the artillery front, things were far from rosy. The brigade artillery resources had been severely depleted.
‘You see,’ (now) General Mahipal Singh explained, ‘in addition to Sundaram and Iqbal being killed, three of the Artillery OP officers with the brigade, (Captains Thomas and Verma, and Second Lieutenant Uttam) and three of the radio operators and Technical Assistants (Dhankar, Paleram and Rajpal Singh) had been wounded,’ Singh paused. For a moment, his solemnity broke. ‘In fact, the manner in which Uttam was wounded was stranger than fiction.’
Uttam had been advancing with 18 Rajput when the enemy guns opened up. Several light and medium machine guns began to engage the Rajputs. The only place Uttam could find to take shelter was behind a telegraph pole. He was standing flush behind it, his body sheltered by it. However, that day the bullet with his number on it had been deployed. And not just one, but two of them. The first clipped his left ear off, and the second took away his right one.
‘It may sound hilarious now, but then it was totally tragic,’ Glucose explained. ‘By now our artillery resources were so thin on the ground that we had to immediately move our Artillery OPs, Captain Nair and Lieutenant M.P. Singh to join the rifle companies up ahead and support them.’
By now a lot of the load had also fallen on the battalion’s mortar platoon.
The 4 Guards mortar platoon had been in non-stop action since the first day. Ammunition would have been critically low if it had not been for the valiant efforts of Chauhan, Sahni and the so-called fundis, (administrative personnel) as well as some of the more valiant Mukti Bahini chaps who stuck it out through the shelling and enemy fire.
‘Thankfully, ammunition kept coming in, but in all the confusion no one remembered to get food for us. It was only on the fourth day that the first consignment reached us; sixteen puris and seven oranges,’ said Sube with amazing clarity.
Forty years had gone by since, and I could not resist re-confirming: ‘You remember the exact number?’
‘How could I not?’ Sube laughed. ‘There were twenty-seven of us in the mortar platoon that day and some Mukti Bahini boys.’
‘So what did you guys do?’ I was intrigued.
‘Everyone was starving by now, so we just shared whatever there was and everyone got about one bite.’ Then he added hastily, ‘Not that I am complaining. We all understood that the rifle company boys in front were
priority and needed to be fed and watered first. We were also under fire, but I am sure their plight was much worse since they were right in the enemy’s face.’
It was Himmeth who first realized the plight of the mortar platoon and ensured they received food. But that happened only on the next day.
In that moment, the bloodbath was continuing.
DAY FOUR
04 DECEMBER 1971
W hen Himmeth walked into the Alpha Company location, Paunchy was nowhere to be seen. He learnt from Guardsman Ved Prakash, who was performing the duties of Paunchy’s radio operator, that he had gone to answer nature’s call. Sure enough, Paunchy returned a few minutes later, looking suitably relieved. Before Himmeth could say a word, Paunchy remarked, ‘These Pakistanis have noses like dogs.’
Obviously he received a puzzled look from his Commandant.
‘I have changed the timing so often, but it makes no difference. No matter what time I decide to go, they start shelling,’ Paunchy explained. ‘Buggers always manage to catch me with my pants down.’
Relieved to find his company commanders in such fine fettle, with their sense of humour intact despite the mayhem all around, Himmeth finished his round of the battlefield and headed back to the battalion HQ. He hoped the other companies were doing equally well and holding on their own.
From the face of it, Himmeth noted with satisfaction, despite their woes, they seemed to have the Pakistanis on the run.
Despite being well stocked and nicely dug in, by now the Pakistanis were very jittery. Battle fog was clouding the real picture, but they could see Indian troops all around them. The pressure on Akhaura was intense and building up from all directions. 4 Guards going around them and cutting them off from their rear had hit their morale far harder than an actual assault on Akhaura may have; it hammered at their will to fight.
By the next day, 4th December, the defences had begun to crack as the Pakistani spirit crumpled. With their command and control in disarray and already under pressure from the hostility of the local population, the first signs of a Pakistani pullback became evident. But the fight was not yet over. Not by a long shot.
That became clear when Himmeth got a report that the Pakistanis were trying to outflank Bravo Company, which was pinned down right under their nose.
‘I was holed up quite close to my company senior JCO when we got word that Pakistanis were trying to outflank us,’ Midha recollected. ‘The senior JCO had been badly wounded and was being tended to by his sahayak (helper). I will never forget what I heard him say to his sahayak: “Go out and kill some Pakistanis… As many as you can… And if you see that our position is about to be overrun, come back and kill me. I don’t want to be captured alive by the bastards,”’ Midha gave a firm nod. ‘I was so inspired by his words that I called my own helper Lakshman and gave him the same orders.’ Then an acute sadness crossed his face. ‘Lakshman went out and was hit by a splinter minutes later; he lost an eye.’
The situation was decidedly grim as Bravo Company steeled itself to meet the coming onslaught.
Himmeth was already aware that Indian armour could not get across the railway line, which was so constructed that it was a natural anti-tank obstacle. However, Bravo Company could not be left out to dry. Getting on the radio set, he explained the situation to Shamsher Mehta, the armoured Squadron Commander.
‘If you don’t do something fast, we are going to lose that company.’ With Himmeth’s words ringing in his ears, Shamsher got his boys together, gunned his tank and headed straight for the railway line and the Pakistanis who were getting ready to tackle Bravo Company.
Himmeth later narrated to Colonel Pyarelal how the armoured squadron dashed in to retrieve the situation for Bravo Company: I saw Raj’s tank hit the railway embankment like a steeple-chaser. It soared over the embankment and landed on the other side with a resounding crash. I was certain that everyone inside the tank must have been knocked unconscious. However, apparently, Raj’s head was also amoured. Guns blazing, the Indian tanks pressed on, straight for the Pakistani infantry that was massing for the attack.
Seeing that the Indians had been able to get their tanks to the west of the railway line, the Pakistani infantry decided to call it a day. They pulled back. And thereafter contented themselves with inflicting artillery and machine gun fire on Bravo.
Though the grave danger of being overrun had been thwarted for the moment, at Shyamnagar, Bravo Company’s plight still remained precarious. Still pinned down near the Akhaura Railway Station, on the western bank of Titas river, they maintained eyeball to eyeball contact with the Pakistani defences.
Himmeth had nothing in his kitty to make their plight better. This was already the fourth day that they had been fighting it out on their own. No one had yet been able to get across to their position. Not even the administrative parties with food, water and ammunition. Barring morale, everything else was running low, and even that would not hold out forever. Aware that Bravo Company could not be left to its own resources much longer, he decided to do the only thing he could—go down and give them moral support. He wanted them to know they were not alone.
‘I panicked when the old man told me he was going to Bravo Company location,’ said a visibly agitated Glucose. ‘I mean, Bravo were trapped barely a hundred fifty metres from the railway station and they were under relentless fire. The old man would be at huge risk.’
‘We all heard him shouting at the Commandant not to go to Bravo Company,’ Sube Singh grinned. The mortar platoon was deployed within earshot of the battalion HQ and had a ringside view of the high drama.
‘It may sound silly now, but you have to understand that the paltan did not even have a second in command and all the company commanders were pretty junior. After Himmeth, the seniormost officer, Paunchy had barely nine years of service. The others were still to get their feet wet. I was petrified about what would happen to the unit if something happened to Himmeth. Who would have taken command of the unit?’ Glucose asked. ‘That is why I was damn upset. I had every reason to be,’ he added emphatically.
Himmeth, of course, was not the kind to listen. Unwilling to leave his boys alone when they were in trouble, around midnight, he left with the administrative party that was taking food forward to Bravo Company. Accompanying him were both his radio operators and a couple of escorts.
Now alone in the battalion HQ, the twenty-four-year-old Glucose began to seriously panic.
‘I came to know that Himmeth was dropping in to look us up. By now, we had six dead and sixteen wounded. Major Kharbanda had told me to keep an eye on them,’ Midha clearly had vivid memories of Himmeth’s visit that night. ‘I immediately sent some men to get stuff ready to receive the old man.’
Not surprisingly, it was one of the Mukti Bahini boys who sneaked into one of the huts on the outskirts of Akhaura and literally brought home the bacon … well, chicken in this case. It was not long before the said chicken found itself being cooked on a makeshift stove.
Despite the mayhem and carnage all around them, when Himmeth arrived, he found Bravo Company had prepared a delicious chicken dish for him. He was as touched by the gesture as he was impressed with Midha’s resourcefulness.
‘I will never forget the report Himmeth gave me after that episode. He wrote just one line in my Annual Confidential Report): “He will make a good regimental officer.” Since that day, whenever I have felt myself floundering or in doubt, I remember that report,’ Midha’s sense of pride was as palpable as Sube Singh’s passion had been.
By the time Himmeth finished going around the trenches and talking to the Bravo Company boys, it was almost early morning.
Perhaps the Pakistanis spotted the antennae of the radio sets accompanying Himmeth and realized a senior officer was within easy gun range. They started hammering Bravo Company with everything they had.
‘The firing became so intense and was so accurate that we were not able to move an inch. The slightest movement invited an immediate response,’ Midh
a said. ‘And that machine gunner was still very much on the ball. He, and the Pakistani spotter directing the artillery fire, seemed to be tracking Himmeth with deadly accuracy.’
Guardsman Nahar Singh
There was not much cover available. Himmeth and Nahar Singh, the radio operator accompanying him, took cover in a tiny depression, more like a fold in the ground. It was so tiny that the two men could not fit it fully.
Realizing that his Commandant’s hand was outside, in the open, Nahar Singh reached out and pulled it in. He had barely done so when an artillery shell landed nearby. One of the several flaming splinters that sprayed out tore away a part of Nahar Singh’s hand.
‘At that time, his hand was precisely where my hand had been just seconds ago,’ Himmeth’s recording to Pyarelal told me. It made me wonder what had gone through Himmeth’s mind when he saw that. I wondered what would have gone through mine, had it been me back there. ‘We bandaged his hand the best we could, but I could see the wound was major and he would need to be evacuated to a hospital else he would lose that hand.’
Nahar Singh refused to even consider being evacuated.
‘It’s a minor injury, sahib. Besides, I cannot go away. I have to man your radio set. And I want to be there with you when we enter Dacca,’ was Nahar Singh’s response.
Himmeth held his peace. Not that evacuation was even a possibility at that point. The enemy was still gunning for his party.
As light increased, so did the effectiveness of the Pakistani fire. Himmeth was pinned down with Bravo Company.
‘I was literally in tears when I came to know that Himmeth was trapped with Bravo Company,’ Glucose made no attempt to mask his feelings even now. ‘I was on the verge of panic, knowing that if Himmeth was taken out, the unit was in serious trouble. As it is, we were behind enemy lines and under tremendous pressure from all sides.’