by Mukul Deva
‘We got held up at the bridge for a while. There were hundreds of our engineers clustered there. They were trying to see if the railway bridge could be re-configured to handle road traffic,’ Midha added by way of explanation, ‘because that would have allowed our vehicles to cut straight through and keep up with the advancing forces. The option was a hundred kilometre detour before the road swung back towards Ashuganj.’
Eventually, the injured guardsmen got through, taking their dead with them. A couple of hours later, they reached the ADS; the same journey that had taken them the whole night through slush and enemy fire.
‘They were processing and cremating the dead bodies right then and there,’ Midha sounded grim. Time had obviously not taken the sting out of the loss, as was evident. ‘And those of us who were wounded ended up in the field hospital. I was attended to by Captain Vinay Kumar, who later joined our unit as the RMO.’
Delighted at the progress of operations, the Indian high command decided to seize the moment and exploit the gains made thus far. Sagat took the decision to maintain the speed of advance and the momentum of operations.
The Brahmanbaria-Comilla-Chittagong highway happened to be the main link between the two Pakistani divisions tasked for the defence of this area. With the guardsmen now in control of this highway, this vital artery had been snapped. Also, barring small pockets of resistance, a sixty-seventy mile wide corridor was now available for the Indian 4 Corps to advance on Meghna.
The original plan had been for 4 Corps to now turn and clear the area down towards Chittagong. This would give enough space for the interim Bangladeshi government to be established. Chittagong was also important since the American 7th Fleet was deployed off that coast and busy making threatening noises in support of its ally, Pakistan.
It is possibly now that Lieutenant General Sagat, seeing the opportunity open up for him, decided to launch a heliborne operation across the Meghna and head for Dacca, the bigger prize. And to do that, he needed to ensure that the isolated pockets of Pakistani troops in this corridor were cleared. This task fell to Bravo and Charlie companies of 4 Guards.
Consequently, 0900 hours of 6 December 1971 saw two platoons of Bravo Company under Major Kharbanda moving from Arhand to capture the Ujjainsar Bridge.
Held by a Pakistani section comprising mixed elements, the bridge was a vital link on the Comilla-Brahmanbaria road and its capture was critical to open the lines of communication to Agartala via Kasba.
The enemy offered only a token resistance and withdrew as soon as the preparatory artillery bombardment of their location began. They ran leaving behind large quantities of small arms and ammunition.
Simultaneously, Charlie Company under Tuffy Marwah moved to secure the concrete bridge at Sultanpur, three miles south of Brahmanbaria. This bridge was held by mixed elements of about company strength, but here also the enemy offered no resistance. They panicked and fled when Charlie Company was closing up to the bridge. Once again, they abandoned a large cache of arms and ammunition, including an RCL gun.
Charlie Company was still consolidating its position on the bridge when they were ordered to hand over the security of the bridge to the brigade following up behind them and fall back to Arhand.
But Charlie obviously had a lot of karma to resolve, because there was no respite for them. At 1600 hours, Charlie Company found itself heading for Saidabad, this time mounted on the nine tanks of 5 Independant Armoured Squadron that had reached Arhand around midday.
The only stop enroute was a brief skirmish at Tantar. Brief because the Pakistanis were in a hurry to cut and run.
In fact, by now, the Pakistanis were in serious disarray, spooked by the sight of Indian tanks or had simply decided to make a habit of it. Either way, they again abandoned Saidabad and ran without offering any resistance as Charlie Company closed in. Here also, they left behind a huge amount of arms and ammunition, including 105 mm artillery shells. However, they did manage to cause some damage to the Saidabad bridge before they vanished.
By 1800 hours, Saidabad had been invested and the remainder of the paltan closed in on it and finally, after six days of relentless engagement with the enemy, got a relatively peaceful night’s rest.
DAY SEVEN
07 DECEMBER 1971
T he seventh day passed spookily. Operations were flowing very rapidly since the situation was extremely fluid. Also, perhaps in the minds of the Indian brass, there was now some confusion as to how to exploit the gains made thus far.
By now it was clear that the Pakistanis were on the run and if the Indian forces seized the moment swiftly, there was a war to be won. However, no one had expected the Pakistanis to abandon their posts and make a run for it so easily. As their defences folded like a house of cards, the options that became available to the Indians increased geometrically. So did the confusion.
There was also the fact that by now, the attacking forces had moved so far and so fast that their administrative echelons were miles behind. It was merely a matter of time before ammunition and crucial warlike parts became critically low.
The attacking troops were so far out on a limb that one serious setback could well have brought the offensive to a permanent halt. All the Pakistanis had to do was to turn and fight. So fluid and delicately balanced was the situation that one serious dig-in and determined fight to the finish by the Pakistanis could easily have altered the course of the war.
However, Sagat was a man with an offensive bent of mind. As were Gonsalves, Mishra and the other commanders under him. They were willing to take the risk and pursue the retreating Pakistanis, without giving them even a momentary respite, which could allow them to re-group.
It is doubtful that history would stop to take note of these confusion-ridden days, for both Indian and Pakistani commanders. But it was sometime during these fluid and fleeting hours that the fate of this war was decided.
Himmeth’s band of guardsmen had cleared up most little pockets of Pakistani resistance in the corridor that the Indian Army had carved out for itself. Now it was as much a battle of the minds as it was on ground. The Pakistani will to fight was clearly wavering. It was at this delicate juncture that the Garud struck. Again.
‘Early in the morning, we got orders to fall back to Akhaura, which we reached around noon,’ Glucose said. ‘But we had barely entered Akhaura when we were ordered to send one company back to Saidabad.’
Charlie Company again found itself being transported back to Saidabad and, on reaching there, was told to move on foot to Bidya-Kot, about forty kilometres away. They were tasked to find and secure a crossing for the rest of the unit across the Pagla river.
However, their plans were altered again, and Charlie Company, which was already across the Pagla river by now, was redirected to link up with the paltan at Rusulpur (near Brahmanbaria) on 08 December.
It was enroute to Rusulpur, when Tuffy Marwah was moving around with a party of six, trying to re-group his company, that the Pakistanis ambushed them.
Tuffy and his men reacted remarkably fast. He himself led the charge and killed three of the Pakistani soldiers, causing the rest of the ambush party to flee in panic. They even left behind five of their dead, and one MMG, one LMG and several rifles.
Orders changed yet again, and at 1600 hours, the unit was told to fall back to Arhand.
The first bit of news awaiting Himmeth when they reached Arhand was about Nahar Singh, his injured radio operator; despite prompt medical attention, he had lost seventy-five per cent of the action in the affected hand.
It was in a sombre mood that the colonel turned his mind to the war at hand.
‘I remember Nahar often. Everytime I pick up a squash racquet, handle a golf club, or even pick up my spoon to eat… I remember that it is because of him that I am still able to do so…’ his comment to Colonel Pyarelal left me feeling unaccountably sad.
DAY EIGHT
08 DECEMBER 1971
W ith the situation becoming increasingly fluid, Indi
an commanders at all levels were up and about, trying to get a grip on the real situation on ground. With the others, Mishra and Himmeth were also on the move.
‘Perhaps that is why I got the call directly from the GOC (General Officer Commanding), General Gonsalves,’ Paunchy explained. ‘Himmeth must have been out of radio range. He certainly was for me when I tried to reach him to confirm the orders the GOC had given me.’
Aware that they would be facing highly fluid situations, the Indians had adopted an innovative method of communication.
‘To speak to anyone from any unit, we simply had to first take the name of the officer commanding that unit and then the name of the person one wished to speak with,’ Glucose explained. ‘This made it possible for anyone from any unit to speak to anyone else, as long as they were in range.’
‘This use of the name of the commander as the radio call sign of the unit led to considerable confusion in the Pakistani rank and file,’ Naib Subedar Tirath Singh elaborated. ‘Whilst I was being treated for my wounds at the ADS at Brahmanbaria, I found myself next to a Pakistani soldier who was also being treated by our doctors. For want of anything better to do, we got talking. I was thoroughly amused when he asked me what was this secret weapon called Himmeth, which he heard on the radio set just minutes before our attack on Akhaura, and which continued to haunt them without respite for days after that.’
We all grinned with Tirath.
Naib Subedar Tirath Singh
‘That was really funny, and I would have loved to see his face when he actually found out what it meant, but I didn’t want to let on how we were using radio communication,’ Singh said.
Also, to mask the meaning of their messages and their intent, the Indians had devised various code words for commonly used things and events.
‘For example, ghee (hydrogenated oil) tins meant dead bodies and atta ki bori (sack of wheat flour) meant wounded,’ said Paunchy as he went on to explain the logic also, since ghee was used for the cremation of bodies, which was why the code word was a logical choice. Also, like atta ki bori, carting back the wounded required a lot of manpower and effort.
‘I was very surprised when I got the call from General Gonsalves,’ Paunchy resumed. ‘The GOC told me to rush to Brahmanbaria and meet him there. Firstly, I was surprised since the last I’d heard Brahmanbaria had yet to be cleared. Secondly, I had no idea what Himmeth would have to say to this order. ’
An uncertain Paunchy first tried to reach Himmeth and when he failed to get through, called Brigadier Mishra and shared his concern. Mishra, who happened to be midway between Himmeth and Paunchy, passed their messages on to each other. Soon, Paunchy had the orders to go ahead to Brahmanbaria confirmed.
Within the hour, Alpha Company 4 Guards, with two troops of armour, was headed for Brahmanbaria. Lying between them was the Pagla river, swift flowing and deep.
Willy nilly, using country boats, they managed to get across. All but one of the five PT 76 tanks that they had captured from the Pakistanis at Akhaura sank almost as soon as they entered the river.
When Alpha Company finally entered Brahmanbaria, Paunchy found the GOC in the stadium. Parked right in the middle was his helicopter. Standing before him was Brigadier Tulli, the Commander of 73 Brigade.
Major General B.F. Gonsalves PVSM
Major General Gonsalves looked very upset, and the brigadier very sheepish. While they finished their talk, I quickly caught up on events with the chopper pilots.
Like the Corps Commander, Lieutenant General Sagat, Gonsalves was also fond of aerial recons and was often found in the thick of battle with the leading elements of the Indian offensive.
That morning, he had been flying over Brahmanbari when he noticed there was no sign of any enemy activity. A second fly past reconfirmed this. Much to the horror of his pilots, Gonsalves ordered them to land.
They landed to find that the panicked Pakistanis had already abandoned Brahmanbaria on the night of 7th December and had fallen back to Ashuganj.
Whilst the rest of 4 Guards raced forward to link up, accompanied by the GOC, Alpha Company now began to scour and secure the town. One of their first stops was the HQ of Pakistani 14th Division. It was right beside the Pakistani HQ that they found sixty-nine bodies. They were in an embankment between the Divisional HQ and the stadium.
‘There were sixty-three bodies of Bengalis, most probably Mukti Bahini chaps. And there were also six of our boys—men from 10 Bihar. Their hands had been tied behind their bodies and they had been shot in the head,’ Paunchy’s expression made it clear that the memory was still strong, and very disturbing. ‘General Gonsalves was livid. I don’t know what happened later, but I know he wanted to have General Abdul Majid, the Pakistani GOC 14 Division, tried for war crimes. After all, there is no way these executions could have taken place without his concurrence, or at least knowledge.’
It was also from the same HQ that Paunchy recovered what would prove to be a document of historic significance. This was a top secret (to be destroyed after reading) intelligence summary dated 12 March 1971, written by the GSO 1 of Pakistani Eastern Command. The Intelligence Summary made it abundantly clear that the show was over, and things in East Pakistan could now never go back to being what they had been earlier.
‘It was obvious from this document that Pakistani high command were fully aware that East Pakistan had already spiralled out of control,’ Paunchy looked incredibly saddened. ‘This whole war … this huge waste of lives, on both sides, was so futile… Pakistan should have known better.’
But then history is replete with such examples. Rather than see the writing on the wall and accepting what the cards had dealt, the power-hungry Pakistani generals had chosen to wreak unspeakable atrocities on the hapless East Pakistanis, and had opted for a war with India. A war, that they would have known, they could never hope to win. They had tried it often enough.
Not too far away from Paunchy, my old friend Naik Jai Singh, who had carried his friend Subedar Rawat to safety, had made another find.
‘One of my men came to me with a bag he had found in the Pakistani HQ. It was filled with Pakistani currency notes and silver ornaments,’ Jai Singh explained. ‘I think some Pakistani had probably been looting the local Bengalis. I felt very angry, and told him that soldiers don’t do such things.’
On Jai Singh’s orders, the guardsman threw the bag of loot into the pond they were standing beside. He had just done so when a Pakistani artillery shell landed into the pond.
‘However, it did not explode,’ Jai Singh said, as he shook his head in wonder. ‘If it had exploded, both of us would have died that day. We took it as a sign from God that soldiers should never do such unspeakable things, like killing civilians in cold blood.’
Perhaps the Pakistanis should have paid heed to this. It may not have helped them win this war, but it would certainly have helped them lose it with more grace and dignity, as befits men of honour.
Soon the rest of the battalion began to build up on Brahmanbaria. The companies began to fan out and secure the town.
‘It was pretty hilarious, the way the GOC had captured it single-handed,’ Granthi’s laugh was infectious. It came just in time and uplifted the solemn mood that had gripped the room.
Granthi’s company began to secure the area allocated to them when they came across a wounded Pakistani soldier.
‘He was rather badly wounded, and they had just abandoned him there, along with their dead,’ Granthi told me. In a flicker, the mood turned grim again. ‘He kept begging us not to leave him alone.’
The Delta Company medic gave the man first aid, whatever was available at his disposal at that time, but the Pakistani was too far gone. He died moments later.
‘He was the enemy, but for some reason we felt some relief that he had not died alone,’ Granthi said that simply, as nothing more than a statement of fact.
I sat back, dealing with the interplay of conflicting emotions that had been unleashed in me.
&
nbsp; What is it about war? That it brings out the best in a man, just as easily as it unleashes the beast within. In one moment he is ready to kill and maim with bullet, bomb and bayonet… And then, in the very next, the same man has tears in his eyes as he remembers a fallen enemy. And he is relieved that he had at least not died alone, even though his own had abandoned him.
The Pakistanis had also left behind their dead.
‘We were aware that the dead bodies would cause disease if left unattended,’ Glucose stated. ‘But the locals were absolutely petrified of the Pakistanis and not even ready to touch their bodies. We also knew that we could not cremate the bodies since Muslims do not burn their dead.’
It took considerable persuasion on the part of the Guards’ officers before the locals finally dug a massive common grave and buried all the dead Pakistanis in it.
‘As for our own bodies, we were moving so fast and had gone so far ahead of our admin echelons that we simply had to cremate them whenever there was a lull in the battle. We would then hand over the ashes and the man’s identity tags to the Subedar Major, who was responsible to ensure they were sent back to the man’s next of kin,’ Glucose said this in a very matter of fact tone.
I empathized. It may sound callous, even cold-blooded, but that is the way of war. That, very often, is the way it ends for many soldiers: an unmarked grave, or an unceremonious cremation, in some alien land.
It was almost noon when Himmeth raced into Brahmanbaria town, at the helm of a captured Pakistani jeep.
By now Generals Sagat and Gonsalves had made up their minds to exploit the situation and pursue the Pakistanis relentlessly, without giving them any time or opportunity to settle down or regroup. They ordered Himmeth to resume advance on Ashuganj immediately.