9 MKD - The fourth story on ordeals, trials and tribulations (the first part of a two series - Ordeals and then in the second part : Faith)

 It had been almost ten days since Abhi had been out on the operational reconnaissance (op-recce). His Commanding Officer had spelt out the aim very clearly - to meet all formation commander and explain the operations of unmanned aerial vehicles so that people did not come up with funny taskings. The extent of Western Command stretched from Ramgarh near Jammu to Romeo Sector in Rajasthan. It had taken him ten days to cover the distance back to his base in Rajasthan. 

His newly married wife waited for him there. Just before he had left she had shown him the pregnancy test kit with two red lines. He didn't want to be away from her for even a second. This was time when he should have been there with her, humouring her tantrums, food cravings and anything else that he had heard or read about. Instead duty called and he had been on the road for the past ten days along with his driver, Sahu. 

As they crossed Majahan, the midway point between Suratgarh and Bikaner, his impatience to reach back home increased. He had picked up some Indian sweets for his wife from different places to give her a feel of where all he had been. As he imagined feeding his wife those, the jeep they were travelling in slowed down to a halt. That damned Sahu couldn't have wanted a break from driving so soon. Abhi loved driving and he had driven half the way to ensure that Sahu doesn't get fatigued. 

But it wasn't Sahu. There was a jam on the road which was most surprising. This road was known as a super highway - broad, empty and smooth with hardly any traffic. They waited for five minutes before his patience wore out and he decided to check what had caused a traffic jam in the middle of nowhere. 

In the center of the road was an army truck which had crashed into a civil truck. The driver of the civil truck was conscious but in shock and lay on the side of the road. The front of the army truck had caved in. The driver was stuck behind the driving wheel. His co driver's face seem to be falling off from the left side with a solid chunk of his cheeks and teeth hanging to one side. There seemed to be a third person inside but he couldn't make out. The bloody sight brought back images from Kargil when he had seen a young soldier being cut into two. 

Surprisingly no one had bothered to rescue them. Surely, pulling out the frame of the front of the truck should not have been so difficult. He ran towards the truck but as he neared some drivers grabbed him and held him back. They pointed to the leaking fuselage which had a steady trickle of diesel flowing from it. A single spark could have lit the pyre of these soldiers trapped inside.   

Then the situation hit him. There was no time for him to nurse his PTSD. Abhi pushed the civilians aside and shouted for Sahu to bring the jeep ahead. The army jeep was 4x4 with sand tyres to enable cross country movement. As Sahu ran back to get the jeep, Abhi leapt ahead and grabbed the front panel of the army truck from outside. God knows where he got that strength from but he hung from the solid front panel with both his feet on the fenders and pulled it out. 

Abhi got the co-driver out, he was a junior commissioned officer (JCO) whose face had been cut from the left side. A solid chunk of his cheek and his jaws along with teeth was swinging as he moved. There seemed to be some bleeding from his chest but there was no way to access the damage. Abhi rolled his handkerchief into a round circle, pressed the handkerchief on the wound on his chest and tied his belt around it to keep it in place. He took the JCOs hand and pushed the flesh on his face into place with it. 

Abhi then took out the driver who had a deep and big gash in his chest and below it. Blood and what seemed to be his stomach were pushing to come out. He was unconscious but had a weak pulse. Sahu meanwhile drove the jeep on the sand and got it near the truck. He told Sahu to hold the driver in his lap keeping the gash pressed and asked to sit behind. the back of the jeep was filled with their holdalls and spare diesel cans. As Sahu struggled with the luggage, Abhi threw out the holdalls to make space. The sweets lay scattered on the ground. 

There was a third soldier sitting behind the driver and co-driver. There seemed to be no wounds on his body though he was unconscious. Abhi checked him for a heart beat and was relieved when he found a strong one. He took out the soldier from the truck and lay him down on the scond seat behind the jeep. He then picked up the JCO who was now unconscious and put him in the co-driver seat of the jeep. Taking out his phone, he rang up the army exchange in Bikaner and relayed a message for the Military Hospital asking them to get the OT prepared. He knew that this was the closest hospital which was an hours drive and by the time medics reached here or got them back to surgery, he would definitely loose some. 

The next one hour went driving at breakneck speed towards Bikaner with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand holding the JCOs face to keep it stable and to keep the hanging mass of flesh in place. As they reached the hospital, stretchers had been lined up and surgeons stood waiting for him. His timely action and basic first aid ensured that the JCO and the soldier who lay behind survived. Unfortunately, the driver had broken his lungs, lost too much blood and his stomach was almost out of his body, passed away in the hospital. 

Epilogue. Abhi was walking down to his office in the unit when a jeep of a Commanding Officer drove in. It was the commanding officer of the troops in the truck. He walked up to Abhi and saluted him before Abhi had a chance to do so, shook his hands and thanked him for saving the lives of the two men. He then outlined the measures taken for the surviving family of the driver - they would be well taken care of. Abhi was later awarded a Commendation for saving the lives of the soldiers.... 

OP -1 - The third story on ordeals, trials and tribulations (the first part of a two series - Ordeals and then in the second part : Faith)

It was almost 10 pm by the time the OP party reached base camp. The company commander briefed Abhimanyu about the operational aspects and then the DOs - Reach the post before day light else the enemy would fire at you, reporting twice a day on a conference call, an observer to monitor the route to the Pakistani side of the glacier 24x7, ration the water, send a link patrol to collect ration every Wednesday and Saturday and so on. 

Then came the DONTs. No movement during the day - don't step out of the bunker in the daylight. Simple one line and that was it. How difficult could it be. As it is he was lucky that he got his turn for his Siachen tenure during the summer months and that too at this post where there was no ice during the summers. He'd seen the others melt snow on a stove to get water in the glaciated parts. Since the area was limited, so there was only that much space to step out of the bunker and stretch and shit. Ice from around the bunker would be gathered to be heated for the daily requirements. You couldn't venture far for an enemy sniper might sight you and take a pot shot. Often a lump of shit would appear in the pan after the ice had melted.... 

The party started its climb to the post at around midnight. It was supposed to take them 4 hours of climbing at altitudes of 11000 feet to reach the post. Abhi checked his watch and the radium dial showed it to be 4:30 am. It would be daylight in an hour and at this rate they were still an hour away. Ballu, his radio operator was struggling with his rifle, large rucksack and the radio set. They would definitely not make it in time. Abhi pictured the next day radio log as "One officer and three jawans shot dead by enemy". He picked up Ballu's rucksack and shoved him along to pick up the pace. They barely managed to reach as dawn broke out and huddled into a 4 feet by 4 feet bunker made of large stones and covered by a time roof  which had a sign "kitchen" painted outside. It was just about 3 feet high and everyone huddled around the stove on which tea was brewing. 

Narry, the officer who was de-inducting was waiting sitting with a tea cup in hand. He welcomed the party and handed out 'shakar paras' cautioning them to drink less of tea since the time to go for ablutions was over. The tea itself reeked of kerosene oil and a fine film floated on top. 

He then explained to Abhi that since they were 'eyeball to eyeball' with the enemy, the 'morning drill' had to be done with one at a time before dawn broke or after the fall of darkness. Shitting was a simple process - sit on the edge of the cliff and shit below. There was a rope to hold on to in case you weren't too sure of your balance specially since everything had to be done in the dark. 

The officer in the party had the luxury of a separate bunker to sleep. 2 feet by 7 feet with a height of 3 feet. So you crawled in and crawled out. There was a bottle of kerosene with a rope inside which burned to help you read books and magazines if you had carried any with you. The roof of the bunker had a layer of soot - thick enough to start a small scale eye liner industry. Water would come on mules every Wednesday in 20 liter jerricans from which kerosene had been emptied out and so irrespective of how or what you cooked or what ingredients you used, kerosene and it's smell was going to remain an integral part of your diet for the next 90 days. 3 liters of kerosene enriched natural water for each person to cook, drink and wash - everyday. And this was supposed to be a summer luxury.... 

Four people confined to an area of 20 feet by 20 feet for 90 days. As the days passed, each one of the four men party knew each stone of every bunker, the complete history of everyone's family, their crushes, their fantasies, their fears. Discussions graduated from 'this is what I joined army for' to 'we're part of a larger plan' to 'this is all bullshit' and finally to 'politicians are all idiots and no one gives a damn'. Life, God, comparisons between the young Sonia and Benazir, everything possible was discussed. The toughest were the 45th to 60th day after which it was all downhill waiting for the next party to induct, blessings counted and plans made to discuss what would be done after going into civilisation ...

Most of the day went in writing letters - they too graduated in a similar tone/ tenor. Friends, relatives, people you'd met only once for 5 minutes, anyone whose address could be remembered was written to. All letters were sent open for the unit censor to strike out with a marker anything that was 'unparliamentary'. Each one knew what time to wake up, where to step and how much of rope to hold in the dark of the morning. Soon brushing your teeth also became a luxury and kerosene certainly helped control your desire to drink water. Shaving was not even thought of. Everyone came down from the post as a sardar with long hair and flowing beards. The same magazine had been read umpteen times. The same songs heard every night on the HX radio set which managed to tune onto AIR Radio when 'fauji bhaiyo ke liye' would play.

Food was the salt rich tinned mutton, dried onions and potatoes, powdered eggs, tetrapacks of milk and some pulses. All of which would cause astronomical amounts of acidity and constipation. It was all designed to make you last and survive in such a scenario... Once a month some 'special rations' would come - nuts, chocolates, condensed milk, juices. Soon hunger died and some posts had even made Cadbury shelves and Cadbury steps ...

Many cried when they finally left the post after ninety days. Some clicked photographs wearing a turban with flowing beards. Some went back to Base Camp (Siachen) to offer ammunition to OP Baba's shrine for a successful tenure! Some gloated about their mental fitness, others took years to forget the experience. Some suffered from short term memory loss while it took years for the stomach lining of others to recover. you can leave Siachen, but Siachen never leaves you ..... 

TUPPAA (to-pa) - The second story on ordeals, trials and tribulations (the first part of a two series - Ordeals and then in the second part : Faith)

Abhimanyu stood marvelling the tiny holes in the wall of his fibre glass hut. He was pretty sure they weren’t there earlier. Meanwhile he could hear the faint boom of the engineers as they blasted the rocky hill side near his observation post making new bunkers. In the background the 5 bravo phone was ringing. It had to be his adjutant asking for the daily morning report. He was sick of the bureaucracy of this reporting - it wasn’t analysed anywhere and no action taken on it. It just got buried in piles of paper which would slowly be eaten away by termite. Age, adrenaline and ambition drove him. He’d joined the army hoping to see some action in the Kargil war but active hostilities had been reduced to artillery duels by the time he reached the forward area.

The boom of the engineers blasting sounded a lot closer as the phone continued to ring. Reluctantly he picked up the receiver pulling out his pad to give an NTR (nothing to report) feedback to his adjutant. He could hear the high pitched tense voice of his adjutant shout from the other end, “you bugger why aren’t you picking the phone? You’re being shelled idiot. Get yourself and your men to safety”. 

The holes in his FGH suddenly made sense. They weren’t holes but jagged incisions where shrapnel from enemy bombing at ripped through. It was a miracle that he’d not been hit. Dropping the receiver he ran outside to see his 3 men hiding behind a makeshift stone wall - they called it a ‘sangarh’. 

The phone started ringing again with its incessant and continuous “rrrrrrr” getting drowned out by a closer boom. The ground shook now. He checked his body to see if he’d been hit. The Gods seemed to be benevolent today. It was the adjutant again and he ordered Abhi to move to the observation post (OP) bunker to ascertain the direction and distance of the flash where the fire was coming from. To reach the OP bunker he would have to move about a 100 meters in direct visibility of the enemy. The path was littered with 3 inch long pika bullets - an anti aircraft gun which the enemy was using to hit own personnel who came to the OP bunker. 

He shouted out to his radio operator to run behind as he started sprinting towards the OP post. The whining pika bullets started ringing out hitting the stone mountain side ricocheting in every direction and sending stone shrapnels flying everywhere. He would have definitely beaten Maurice Greene had some timed the sprint. 

Over the next 20 minutes he diligently recorded the flash to sound gap to work out the distance and noted the bearings at which the flash could be seen. Plotting it on the map, he was pretty sure that it was close to a village called Shaqma and he passed on the intelligence report to his adjutant. By then the firing had stopped and he was ordered to fall back. 

Here was another day wasted, another instance of lives risked and another opportunity lost. Disgusted he crawled back to his bunker. 

Epilogue - Shaqma was hit by over a hundred rounds of 155mm bofors after a gap of 15 odd days. The 15 days went in preparation, lulling the enemy into a false sense so security so that they brought their guard down, and making sure that gun end was surveyed accurately to ensure precision at the target end. An ad-hoc OP was established to correct the fall of shots. Intelligence reports gathered through eye witnesses and radio intercepts later confirmed that the enemy gun position had been completely destroyed with multiple casualties

APATI (uh-pa-tee) - The first of a series of stories on ordeals, trials and tribulations (the first part of a two series - Ordeals and then in the second part : Faith)

It had been a long day. The gun position had just fired over 200 rounds and the men were tired. As expected, just as the guns were given rest to manage the spent ammunition and provide relief for the crews, the counter bombardment started. It had never been so close. They had been well sited, tucked right behind a mountain and the gun position officer knew that it would be difficult to target them. 

However, it was with unease as he saw the rounds creep closer and closer to them. As Sachin observed the rounds falling behind, he noticed the glint of glass in the hills behind him. He wondered what it could be, there was no inhabitation there. Taking out his binoculars, he surveyed the area and could definitely make out the reflection of glass but nothing more. He was tucked away in the command post bunker and didn’t want to take a chance stepping out to take a better look as enemy shells still rained down though yet a safe distance away. He noted the bearing of the shining object and passed it on to his adjutant. 

Meanwhile, they got orders to resume firing and the new target required the guns to redeploy in the same gun pits. As he barked the orders on the microphone, the detachments swung into action running to shift the trails of the guns and make safe any ammunition in the way. Soon the ready report of the guns started pouring in - all but gun number 5 had reported ready. 

It was very unlike the detachment to take so much time and he climbed the bunker stairs to see why they were taking so much time. An uneasy feeling crept into his stomach as he saw men crowding around something on the ground. He could just see a pair of feet with the DMS boots lying on the ground. Some was down and he sprinted towards it. 

Sachin had just been commissioned a year ago and had joined the operations in Kargil after completing his Young Officers course to perform the duties of a gun position officer. His trial by fire was literal in every sense with the bofors gun position he commanded seeing action every day and night. 

Suddenly the Hollywood life that he’d been living so far turned into reality. Balwinder, a jawan of the 5th detachment lay on the ground. His body lay cut into half, the stomach and intestines had spilled outside with blood trying to seep into the rocky ground below them. Sachin was too shocked to react. This couldn’t be happening - not on his guard at least. He picked up the torso and tried to join it with the lower body scooping up the stomach and intestines. Screaming for an ambulance he mumbled that maybe the doctor could stitch the body together and bring the limp body back to life. 

His men pulled him back as someone covered the body with a sheet. His shrieks of agony were drowned in the dull thuds of enemy shells that continued to rain down. 

Firing had been called off for the day. Sachin’s buddy helped him clean the blood off his hands and clothes. He spent his whole day trying to come to terms with the loss. The day had gone bye, he’d missed his lunch. A retaliatory fire plan had been chalked out by the meticulous staff officer. Revenge had to be taken. Hungry and eager to be prepared for the morning, he made his way to the officers mess. As he entered the mess, he saw his Battery Commander brooding over a glass of rum. Suddenly, the helpless and rage bottled up inside Sachin erupted and he shouted at his boss. How could he drink when they’d just lost a soldier. The battery commander looked at him, a glint of water visible in his eyes and quietly went back to his drink. 

Epilogue - The shimmering glint that Sachin observed on the hill side was a local villager who had been trained by the enemy to direct fire. He was shot at the spot observed earlier. The battery commander nursing his grief with quiet maturity went on to become a commanding officer as did Sachin - years in combat taught him his lesson in maturity and tolerance. The enemy was targeted ferociously over the next month soon after which a cease fire was called out and hostilities ceased in Kargil that year, 2003.