(The Operations mentioned below are ones in which the author has participated himself and are true and actual incidents. Some of the narratives may be a little too gross and are not meant for the weak hearted. Reader discretion is advised.)
OPERATION MULE TRAIN
My first experience on a post was a little too much for any sane human. But then neither were we sane nor human. If the tinned food, being restricted to the three bunkers for three months, lack of space to move around, no bath for 3 months or the same old constipated faces to see were not enough, lack of professionalism in people who were at places which mattered added insult to injury. As a young gun – raring to go and prove my mettle, it was all a little too much to digest. There existed a silent cease fire based on mutual understanding between the Pakistani battalion and the one in which I was based. This perhaps because of the funny deployment on ground. The top of the hill had both – a Pakistani post and an Indian. On the slope that came down was a Paki post and then an Indian (mine) and at the foothill were both the sides again. Every night the sentries would exchange the profoundest profanities possible. Sometime when they’d get along they’d exchange notes on Benazir Bhutto and Sonia Gandhi (which I better not delve into).
All along I’d heard my course mates brag about how much action they’d seen while on the post and how both the sides would carry out operations against the other – with weapons and severed heads as trophies to bring back. And here I was listening to the sentries gossip about Benazir and Sonia at night. Before the helplessness could get the better of me, I decided to take things into my own hands. One night I quietly rolled down a large stone on the Paki post below. As it rumbled down, the Pakis didn’t know what hit them – perhaps it was a landslide or perhaps the Indians sneaking in for a raid. The whole outpost was on its toes. We witnessed mini Diwali. They fired every possible illuminating device they had and were up the whole night while I smiled to sleep. This continued for the next couple of nights and became a joke on my post. Anyone feeling bored would simply roll down a stone and everyone would gather to see the fun below. We would just love to see them run around and man all stations the whole night. Now one night the Paki post above us observed what was happening and decided to give it back to us in the same coin. We would get rations and drinking water in cans mounted on mules which would come from down below. As the mule train wound up one day, the Pakis were waiting with guess what? Stones! The poor mules bought it and one fell into a nullah below. Not willing to accept the casuality of a mule, the Infantry battalion finally decided that they had had enough. An eye for an eye, blood for blood and a mule for a mule. But the only Paki mule that we could target couldn’t have been hit even if the Olympic champ threw a stone. The next best thing was a bullet. The planning and co-ordination that went into Operation Mule was phenomenal! Every post was asked to be prepared to target the next Paki mule train. Posts were stocked with rations and water. Movement was restricted. Weapons were cleaned and ammunition readied. Imagine the surprise of the Paki porters the next day when the whole battalion opened up with every weapon held on the mule train. The firing continued till late at night. Tracers shot across and bombs rained. Thankfully there were no casualties – neither of the men nor of the mules. But the lesson was learnt, the thirst for action quenched and peace restored. Like good soldiers we reported back – 478 rounds fired, 2 mules shot.
OPERATION TREE TRACKS
The General was coming for a visit and the Officers Mess we had just taken over was in a ‘mess’. Trees (actual full grown “trees”) were planted overnight, walls painted and a 5 star guest room set up according to the likes and dislikes of the Brigadier and his wife. She even supervised cutting of the tufts of grass in the lawn – we finally had to do it with scissors – it was too fine to be done with the lawn mower (I never paid so much attention to trimming my beard – well, then that’s how the Army teaches you to keep an eye for detail). However, there was a small thing that we overlooked – a crack in the wall right in front of the entrance. It had to be covered at any cost. Since there was just one night left and no time to inspect things later – the task was left to the Commanding Officer who delegated it to the Adjutant. To cut things short – it finally found its way to the junior most youngster in the unit. Displaying “out-of-the-box” thinking at its best, he decided to cover it with a creeper. Men worked at it the whole night – right from a stem coming out of a pot, to leaves on the wall (stuck with stick tape) which covered it just appropriately. The finished product would have put even the best of Bonsai artists to shame. The whole thing went off very well and the General was very impressed with everything. While leaving he just had one thing to say to the Commanding Officer – he also wanted a sapling of the Mango tree which grew like a creeper on the wall – for his own house.
OPERATION MC DONALDS
He loved them more than he loved us. Us? We were scum for him – he probably loved them more than he loved his own children. He had been looking after them right since the unit was in Punjab. These were the Commanding Officer’s GEESE. When the unit was to move from Punjab to Assam, we dreaded undergoing the pain of looking after them in the train and then in the new location – in the heart of insurgency infested Assam. All our efforts to explain the risk of infections enroute and bird flu in Assam went in vain. The message went out loud and clear – heads would roll even if one of them died.
Every morning the Commanding Officer would walk to the “play area” for the geese and feed them their breakfast. He just loved it when they would come cackling to gobble up their food and even made it a point to take all visitors to see their display of affection. And god forbid, if the birds decided to sleep a little longer or were not feeling hungry, all hell would break loose. Anyone coming across the Boss that day would get a mouthful. The word would soon be out that the geese had not eaten and people would not step out their offices. There had to be a way around this. Operation Mc Donald was conceived and launched. A dedicated sentry was detailed for the geese. His only job was to make sure that they were up and running in the morning much before the Boss came for his customary visit (even if it meant that he ran after them with a stick to get them up and kicking). The birds were not given any food from evening onwards so that they were at their hungriest best when the Boss came in the morning. A small pool was constructed so that he could watch them frolic and play in the water.
Then one day as I entered the headquarters, I found a person distributing sweets. One of the geese has laid eggs. Things were at their happiest zenith – that is till the day, she decided that she’d had enough of sitting on the eggs while the others played in the pool and joined them. Grief descended on the whole place. Now there would be no “babies”. Besides catching terrorists, I was tasked to “manage” the eggs to be hatched somehow. Like a good soldier, I found the solution – a commercial hatchery which hatched hundreds of eggs. We co-ordinated all aspects, the eggs were kept in a special container and sent in a jeep (to ensure minimum bumps). In the meantime the Boss went on leave. Every evening, he’d call and check about the eggs. Everything was going fine till one day there was a power breakdown. The “egg hatching machine” got switched off and in an instant – all the eggs were ruined. Besides our eggs the poor guy lost some 500 odd other eggs too. But who gave a damn about the others.
There had to be a way out. An operation was launched in the whole area. As many as 5 teams were out scouting for – no, not terrorists, but geese who had just laid eggs or had chicks which were new born. We finally located one farmer and persuaded him to rent out the chicks (he just wouldn’t agree to sell them). The chicks were introduced into the group and were soon accepted (after a few initial hiccups and a little coaxing). Imagine our relief and the Boss’s joy when he came back and saw the chicks. They carried us through for the next three months till our Boss got posted out and then were dutifully returned. As for the geese – you should try it sometime – as tasty as duck!
(more to come ............ )
