MAKING OF AN INFANTRYMAN -II
While the usual highs and lows, ups and downs of life as a young officer continued, soon I found myself being treated with an almost informal manner right from the ‘old man’ to the senior NCOs of the battalion. It was out of mutual confidence, I inferred. The tenure at my hometown proved to be busy for me as I was now ‘newly married’ and in charge of the Adjutant’s appointment. With my parents also around, at times I found it difficult to attend to everyone. I cursed and cribbed and continued. We all got used to the new way of life and soon my whole family was a part and parcel of the original family called the battalion.
Then was the first outing. Having spent slightly more than one year at my hometown, I was posted to one of the most prestigious institutes of the army, The Infantry School at Mhow. The midnight oil burnt during the young officers course had finally borne the fruit. I was on the ‘other side of the table’ now… not a student anymore but an Instructor. The environment was different from that one finds in the unit. Category ‘A’ establishments of the Army ( Infantry School being one of them ), have their own way of functioning and own pace of life to which one gets used to immediately and addicted very soon. Besides the privileges there lies the sacred moral responsibility of a teacher. I had to live up to the standards of a role model for countless young officers, JCOs and men. I had a public image now, though very restricted but still it was there. Facing young officers is never an easy task when you know that whatever you tell them is going to be taken as a gospel. I found myself more confident and also mature. The instructional staff was from different units of infantry and I got the larger picture which further strengthened my beliefs about our men. The NCOs and JCOs worked with efficiency of an MBA graduate, with the timing of an atomic clock and with the finesse of a world class musician. There was never a dull moment and even the most challenging tasks were performed with ease and as a team. Never did our parent regiments figure in our lives as a matter of discord. Everyone had only positives to contribute. All my apprehensions regarding working in a new environment were put to rest, forever.
At Mhow ,each day was a learning even for the instructors. Whenever we got free time during the office hours, it was gainfully used in fruitful professional discussions and clarifications on concepts related to our subject. The free time was actually ‘free’ and was spent in small get togethers or at the swimming pool or the officers institute. There was free flow of ideas and thoughts ‘both ways’ and all of us benefited in the true sense. Despite the democratic environment, the functioning was smooth and streamlined and very few changes were allowed in the training programme, that too without any inconvenience to the students. The function of the school still stays in the memory as one of the finest experiences of my life. At the Infantry School, I had the honour of interacting with students from different infantry units and I realized that all units have same / similar ethos and traditions which eventually bind us all with a sense of oneness and brotherhood to a degree beyond ones imagination.
The tenure at Mhow was cut short when my battalion was selected to go on United Nations Peace Keeping Mission. With less than a months notice for me to pack and move, I was back to my hometown and then to New Delhi where the battalion had concentrated for preparation for the mission. After a wait of nearly six months we finally flew over to the alien lands. With our fingers crossed and mixed emotions we landed at Asmara, the capital of Eritrea, a newly born small African country on the western coast of the famous Red Sea. Forty percent of the unit’s strength was in Ethiopia, across the heavily guarded and devilishly mined borders. The low profile infantry soldiers , now donning the sky blue beret caps and displaying the UN badges were the keepers of International Peace and were the National representatives. We were working amongst a mix of army contingents and civilian staff from across the world. ‘Globlalisation had finally struck’. Our each action was being watched and evaluated by a host of players and the pressure was tremendous. One wrong step could have pressed the ‘undo’ button and there was no scope for recovery thereafter. But we came out with flying colours, winning everyones appreciation. The language, people, customs and new rules of engagement were not to deter the infantrymen who could convey everything to everyone using a self devised sign language with punctuations from English. All JCOs had picked up new trades too. The unit’s Subedar Major was the most skilled forklift operator, the MT ( mechanical transport ) JCO was our local air traffic controller. Few other units had also contributed to the Indian contingent, but to all others we were INDBATT or the Indian battalion.
The United Nations is a resourceful organization and we had everything in abundance, helicopters on call, unlimited supply of fuel, water, food and so on…… we enjoyed twenty four hours of generator based electricity too. Everything was ‘state of the art’. But our men were never awed by all this glitter. We manned the sentry posts as we did back home and there was no ‘letting down of guard’. The stay in the mission area was professionally as well as financially rewarding. Village lads who had so far travelled only by buses or trains were now part of the crowd at New Delhi, Dubai and Adis Ababa International airports. Each man had an opportunity to fly in the MI-8 helicopters with the Russian pilots. The battalion was spread over more than 300 km of the Ethiopian-Eritrean borders with thirty boys manning a post at hottest inhabited place in the world located 100 metres below the mean sea level. Most of the posts were to be maintained by air and the mechanical transport staff had automatically assumed the duty of air traffic management. The drivers were soon adapted to drive the ‘ right hand drive’ vehicles on the ‘wrong side’. Constant patrolling of the border areas resulted in consolidation and furtherance of peace process. Having left a lasting impression on the hearts and minds of everyone, INDBATT-1 was replaced by INDBATT-2 and we were back at New Delhi where orders to move to the frozen frontiers on the highest battlefield on earth, awaited us. In two weeks time, from land below the sea level, we found ourselves headed for heights well beyond 18000 feet and temperatures well below anyones wildest imagination. The adaptability of the infantrymen was once again proven beyond doubt and for one year the battalion manned a vital portion of the famous Line of control and gave enemy a ‘bloody nose’ in each of ‘his’ attempts to break the battalion’s resolve. Comrades were injured and lost but spirits were only strengthened and resolve was only stronger. With the weather joining the enemy and communications cut off, the infantryman braved the blizzards and avalanches, climbed numbing heights, crossed unpassable crevasses and climbed almost vertical ice walls to do the his job of guarding the frontiers. Living in frozen bunkers, ice caves and dangerously dangling fibre glass huts, faces blackened by the kerosene fumes, one thing that was not affected was his smile.
From the abundance of the United Nations to the scarcity of the mighty glacier, the infantryman was as modest and humble and as devoted to his duty. Very few armies can boast of such quality of soldiers. At the glacier once again the soldiers were hardened, the boys converted to men and men to superhumans. Battalion’s achievements were duly recognized and rewarded. More than the rewards we earned invaluable experience and brotherhood.
Having left the unit at a beautiful peace station on the west coast, I am at the start point once again. This is the great and enviable Indian Military Academy. Here the instructions are not to over influence the Gentlemen Cadets with any arm or service but in my heart I know that I carry a fire. A fire that has polished and hardened me all these years. A fire which has guided me through the most difficult times. A fire which is the purest of the things that one finds in this world. I know that however best I may try, this fire shall be seen in my very being and people around me will draw warmth and inspiration from it. This fire is the love and faith of the men that I have served with and led. This fire carries
the sacred colour and warmth of the blood that our men have shed in the line of duty. This fire is the spirit of INFANTRY.
Showing posts with label biography...sort of. Show all posts
Showing posts with label biography...sort of. Show all posts
Thursday, August 27, 2009
from a young man to a captain..... #Indian_Army
MAKING OF AN INFANTRYMAN-I
As a child, born and brought up in the a military station, I used to spend hours watching the unending convoys carrying soldiers , guns and other equipment which was beyond my comprehension at that time. I wondered, where these people went….. in the hours of darkness…… in the early mornings…… I wondered how the guns fired…. How was the life of a soldier. Right in front of our house, the columns used to carry out their physical training, the teams used to practice and often soldiers went past carrying heavy loads, weapons…… helmets. I was simply carried away by the army life. I grew up studying together with children who came in the army buses, who always talked of their father going for exercise and strange terms like unit, div, battery which had very little and often no meaning for me. But in my heart I cherished the dream of wearing the ‘Olive Greens’…. I wanted to march…... To salute…… To fire.. and to see places from a different angle. I always liked to talk about India defeating China and Pakistan and generated discussions like the Indian Army being the strongest in the world.
My dreams came true when I was selected for the National Defence Academy ( NDA )…, from there to the Indian Military Academy ( IMA ) was a journey which is beyond the power of words to describe. Still not very clear about the army, at the IMA, we always compared various arms and services of the Army. As Gentlemen Cadets, we largely based our views and discussions on what impressed us. The directing staff comprised of all arms ( and some services ), and their conduct, style, uniform , way of talking and things like that, in a way helped us in forming our opinion. I wanted to join the Corps of Engineers all the way upto first six months at the IMA, but in the final term I decided to join the Infantry. My coursemates even laughed at my so called ‘foolish decision’ and tried to convince me to go for ‘softer’ options. But I had made up my mind. Its now that I realise that that decision was my best. I feel so comfortable and at home in my battalion that I often wonder if the other units, arms and services have such atmosphere.
I joined my battalion at Gurdaspur and my ideas and dreams saw the light of the day. After initial settling down, I got involved with what we call the ‘Infantry Man’. The boys were rustic village folk with very little knowledge about the ‘affairs of the world’. The ‘new draft’ of young soldiers who had accompanied me to the battalion from the Regimental Centre, had traveled north of Pune for the first time in their life. The life in the company was a strict routine but whenever I was there in the lines, I always had somebody to talk to, someone to guide me. The JCOs and the senior NCOs in their own way narrated the battalion history to me and about all the previous tenures. I could call more than 70 % of the boys by their first name. There was a routine yet each day was different. I spent my days at the firing ranges, at PT fields, in the company lines, at the training area ,the Regimental Institutes, in the langar, in the library …. Talking to the JCOs ….. visiting all the stores , kotes and so on. I found myself getting ‘hang’ of the things. Everything which had seemed to be so difficult and complicated, was in fact so simple. I had the proficiency in my job and very soon it was the time to prove it.
I was to see active life soon. We were to be inducted in the ‘Valley’. Still a Second Lieutenant, having done the Young Officers course at Mhow and Commando course at Belgaum, I had full confidence in me. My stay in the battalion had given me a great sense of belonging. I was part and parcel of the family. I HAD A UNIT. I dreamt of fighting the enemy, I dreamt of teaching ‘him’ a lesson and of capturing enemy posts. The Infantry had trained and hardened me for this “Tour of Duty’. I felt as if I was a new human being, well above the common fears of the common man. I had a mission now it was something that made me feel different from others. I went with the Advance Party, a few months before the whole unit reached there. It was my first exposure to actual combat. It was the first time that I heard the distant noise of firing….. live firing. Seeing the soldiers around me, armed with AK- 47s, clad in the battle dresses …. Gave me a sense of confidence and pride. Then I heard of operations, casualties, sources, interrogation and the …. saw them.
The shy and low profile infantryman was ‘in charge’ of the situation. It was a pleasure to see the confidence in the manner that soldiers conducted themselves. The battalion reached the new location soon and within a short span of time all of us were accustomed to the new role, to the prolonged hours of duty, to patrols upto the heights of 13000 feet, to ambushes …. and so on. We were new to Counter Insurgency. The training was all ‘on the job’. There was nothing new to be learnt… yet everything that we new had to be correctly applied on ground. The outgoing battalion handed over useful information to us and after two months or so we were operating like any other infantry or Rashtriya Rifles battalion.
The valley tenure hardened the unit’s will and determination. The village lads had suddenly became fierce soldiers, they were not scared of anything. The not so talkative NCOs were intelligently interrogating and questioning the suspects and the locals. For me the whole perception of life seemed to have changed, and changed for good. People whom, at the peace station, I had seen in langars, in stores…. as runners and office assistants were now detachment commanders, leading patrols and ambushes. This was real infantry life……
The battalion was deployed in company and platoon posts, each responsible for a large area. The locals, who always seemed to avoid the Army and who were scared of the Army, on seeing our conduct started coming to my post. Initially they used to watch us from a distance, our smiles were then returned and in fifteen days time, the ice finally broke. ‘Jai Hind’ was the salute from an old man and Jai Hind with a hot cup of sweet tea was my reply. It was an experience to hear the story of the old man. He narrated as to how he lost his sons to the terrorists, how they killed his grandchildren and how they took away all the money that he had. He had nothing left but for a grudge against the masked men who had destroyed his world. The old men old man was just the beginning… the days that followed brought more and more men to the post. The young men wanted to play volleyball with us, some boys wanted spare boxing gloves and some coaching and soon it became a daily affair. From their talks we realized that the Army always had a good image but the fear of the terrorists was too much because they killed just anyone and that too without reason. These were cold blooded
murders which always went unaccounted. The “Human Rights’ ,as I know them, never existed for the terrorists. For them it was only their own survival that mattered. It did not take us much time to see that the cause, the holy war, ‘The Jehad’ was missing. Terrorists were mostly foreign mercenaries who killed just anyone. Their task was to cause as much casualties to the Army and other Security Forces and anyone who helped us. We were strong but overexposed. I was still a bachelor but sixty percent of our men were married. I wondered about them and their families. Never ever did anyone complain of this ‘forced’ separation and hardships. Even in heavy snow the patrols never stopped, ambushes never ceased. The unit was like a large family always on the move. It was now that we carried out some of the most daring operations of their kind. The results proved the resolve of the ‘infantry man’ to fight till the last man … last round. We too lost our men. The comrades who were a part of the same family were suddenly missing. It was a great loss and a great learning. I have always been possessive, but now I learnt to suffer the loss. This loss made us even more determined. The battalion performed equally well in all subsequent operations and earned great laurels. We did our Regiment and the whole Indian Army proud. I now knew the cost of the awards that a soldier gets. After some time, everywhere its just the names that are remembered and not the people. But we in Infantry have always prioritized people over names. The widows of our martyrs are still and very much a part of the family. They often visit us during get togethers. In all the jubiliation and pomp of the get togethers all of us can feel the tears within. Its hard but its life.
A captain now, having grown up in the great family called ‘THE UNIT’ and posted again to the peace station which happens to be my hometown too, I often pass through the same roads where I as a child, used to wave at the soldiers. So many things have changed… the roads, the marketplace, the people… but whenever our vehicles pass from there, I see young children, in school uniforms waving at us, at me, because we are the same brave soldiers in ‘Olive Greens, who still inspire the same feelings of confidence and charm as ‘WE’ inspired eighteen years ago in a boy called ‘ME’.
As a child, born and brought up in the a military station, I used to spend hours watching the unending convoys carrying soldiers , guns and other equipment which was beyond my comprehension at that time. I wondered, where these people went….. in the hours of darkness…… in the early mornings…… I wondered how the guns fired…. How was the life of a soldier. Right in front of our house, the columns used to carry out their physical training, the teams used to practice and often soldiers went past carrying heavy loads, weapons…… helmets. I was simply carried away by the army life. I grew up studying together with children who came in the army buses, who always talked of their father going for exercise and strange terms like unit, div, battery which had very little and often no meaning for me. But in my heart I cherished the dream of wearing the ‘Olive Greens’…. I wanted to march…... To salute…… To fire.. and to see places from a different angle. I always liked to talk about India defeating China and Pakistan and generated discussions like the Indian Army being the strongest in the world.
My dreams came true when I was selected for the National Defence Academy ( NDA )…, from there to the Indian Military Academy ( IMA ) was a journey which is beyond the power of words to describe. Still not very clear about the army, at the IMA, we always compared various arms and services of the Army. As Gentlemen Cadets, we largely based our views and discussions on what impressed us. The directing staff comprised of all arms ( and some services ), and their conduct, style, uniform , way of talking and things like that, in a way helped us in forming our opinion. I wanted to join the Corps of Engineers all the way upto first six months at the IMA, but in the final term I decided to join the Infantry. My coursemates even laughed at my so called ‘foolish decision’ and tried to convince me to go for ‘softer’ options. But I had made up my mind. Its now that I realise that that decision was my best. I feel so comfortable and at home in my battalion that I often wonder if the other units, arms and services have such atmosphere.
I joined my battalion at Gurdaspur and my ideas and dreams saw the light of the day. After initial settling down, I got involved with what we call the ‘Infantry Man’. The boys were rustic village folk with very little knowledge about the ‘affairs of the world’. The ‘new draft’ of young soldiers who had accompanied me to the battalion from the Regimental Centre, had traveled north of Pune for the first time in their life. The life in the company was a strict routine but whenever I was there in the lines, I always had somebody to talk to, someone to guide me. The JCOs and the senior NCOs in their own way narrated the battalion history to me and about all the previous tenures. I could call more than 70 % of the boys by their first name. There was a routine yet each day was different. I spent my days at the firing ranges, at PT fields, in the company lines, at the training area ,the Regimental Institutes, in the langar, in the library …. Talking to the JCOs ….. visiting all the stores , kotes and so on. I found myself getting ‘hang’ of the things. Everything which had seemed to be so difficult and complicated, was in fact so simple. I had the proficiency in my job and very soon it was the time to prove it.
I was to see active life soon. We were to be inducted in the ‘Valley’. Still a Second Lieutenant, having done the Young Officers course at Mhow and Commando course at Belgaum, I had full confidence in me. My stay in the battalion had given me a great sense of belonging. I was part and parcel of the family. I HAD A UNIT. I dreamt of fighting the enemy, I dreamt of teaching ‘him’ a lesson and of capturing enemy posts. The Infantry had trained and hardened me for this “Tour of Duty’. I felt as if I was a new human being, well above the common fears of the common man. I had a mission now it was something that made me feel different from others. I went with the Advance Party, a few months before the whole unit reached there. It was my first exposure to actual combat. It was the first time that I heard the distant noise of firing….. live firing. Seeing the soldiers around me, armed with AK- 47s, clad in the battle dresses …. Gave me a sense of confidence and pride. Then I heard of operations, casualties, sources, interrogation and the …. saw them.
The shy and low profile infantryman was ‘in charge’ of the situation. It was a pleasure to see the confidence in the manner that soldiers conducted themselves. The battalion reached the new location soon and within a short span of time all of us were accustomed to the new role, to the prolonged hours of duty, to patrols upto the heights of 13000 feet, to ambushes …. and so on. We were new to Counter Insurgency. The training was all ‘on the job’. There was nothing new to be learnt… yet everything that we new had to be correctly applied on ground. The outgoing battalion handed over useful information to us and after two months or so we were operating like any other infantry or Rashtriya Rifles battalion.
The valley tenure hardened the unit’s will and determination. The village lads had suddenly became fierce soldiers, they were not scared of anything. The not so talkative NCOs were intelligently interrogating and questioning the suspects and the locals. For me the whole perception of life seemed to have changed, and changed for good. People whom, at the peace station, I had seen in langars, in stores…. as runners and office assistants were now detachment commanders, leading patrols and ambushes. This was real infantry life……
The battalion was deployed in company and platoon posts, each responsible for a large area. The locals, who always seemed to avoid the Army and who were scared of the Army, on seeing our conduct started coming to my post. Initially they used to watch us from a distance, our smiles were then returned and in fifteen days time, the ice finally broke. ‘Jai Hind’ was the salute from an old man and Jai Hind with a hot cup of sweet tea was my reply. It was an experience to hear the story of the old man. He narrated as to how he lost his sons to the terrorists, how they killed his grandchildren and how they took away all the money that he had. He had nothing left but for a grudge against the masked men who had destroyed his world. The old men old man was just the beginning… the days that followed brought more and more men to the post. The young men wanted to play volleyball with us, some boys wanted spare boxing gloves and some coaching and soon it became a daily affair. From their talks we realized that the Army always had a good image but the fear of the terrorists was too much because they killed just anyone and that too without reason. These were cold blooded
murders which always went unaccounted. The “Human Rights’ ,as I know them, never existed for the terrorists. For them it was only their own survival that mattered. It did not take us much time to see that the cause, the holy war, ‘The Jehad’ was missing. Terrorists were mostly foreign mercenaries who killed just anyone. Their task was to cause as much casualties to the Army and other Security Forces and anyone who helped us. We were strong but overexposed. I was still a bachelor but sixty percent of our men were married. I wondered about them and their families. Never ever did anyone complain of this ‘forced’ separation and hardships. Even in heavy snow the patrols never stopped, ambushes never ceased. The unit was like a large family always on the move. It was now that we carried out some of the most daring operations of their kind. The results proved the resolve of the ‘infantry man’ to fight till the last man … last round. We too lost our men. The comrades who were a part of the same family were suddenly missing. It was a great loss and a great learning. I have always been possessive, but now I learnt to suffer the loss. This loss made us even more determined. The battalion performed equally well in all subsequent operations and earned great laurels. We did our Regiment and the whole Indian Army proud. I now knew the cost of the awards that a soldier gets. After some time, everywhere its just the names that are remembered and not the people. But we in Infantry have always prioritized people over names. The widows of our martyrs are still and very much a part of the family. They often visit us during get togethers. In all the jubiliation and pomp of the get togethers all of us can feel the tears within. Its hard but its life.
A captain now, having grown up in the great family called ‘THE UNIT’ and posted again to the peace station which happens to be my hometown too, I often pass through the same roads where I as a child, used to wave at the soldiers. So many things have changed… the roads, the marketplace, the people… but whenever our vehicles pass from there, I see young children, in school uniforms waving at us, at me, because we are the same brave soldiers in ‘Olive Greens, who still inspire the same feelings of confidence and charm as ‘WE’ inspired eighteen years ago in a boy called ‘ME’.
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