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Authors: MUKUL DEVA

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‘Like he said,’ before Granthi could get started, Midha broke in, ‘we were all very much in the training mode. So much so that even when we were waiting in the assembly area near the International Border, for the operation to begin, many of us fell asleep.’ He looked around at the others for confirmation. ‘I know I did. The whole day had been so hectic; gathering our stores, distributing them and the ammunition amongst the men, checking weapons, writing letters to our families, just in case…’

Just in case…
The words held my attention. That’s how it always is for soldiers, in any uniform, in any country, in any era. Three simple words:
just in case … they never come back
, being the unsaid part of it.

Midha’s voice intruded my thoughts. ‘There had been a hundred things to do. None of us had slept a wink the past twenty-thirty hours. That is why many of us fell asleep the minute we got to the assembly area,’ he said. ‘In fact, when we got orders to start the operation, some of us kept on sleeping and so there was considerable confusion. The ones who got up late had lost sight of the men in front and had no idea where to go. It was pretty dark, and visibility was terrible. Himmeth got so mad at Major Kharbanda, our company commander, that he really yelled at him,’ he continued.

Naik Hoshiar Singh, the radio operator who had been with Himmeth almost every minute of those sixteen days, must have witnessed the confusion first hand. He was nodding vigorously.

‘Commandant
sahib
was with the soldiers in front. He ordered them to fire tracer rounds so that the Bravo Company could see them and catch up,’ he said.

‘Tracers?’ I was surprised. ‘That must have done wonders to the element of surprise.’

Honorary Captain Subedar
Major Hoshiar Singh (Retd.)

‘Surprise?’ Midha laughed a very sarcastic laugh. ‘What surprise? The Pakistanis had started firing on us almost as soon as we crossed the border. We had barely gone hundred yards when they started off with mortars and artillery.’

‘True.’ That was Glucose. ‘They may not have known what was being thrown at them, but they certainly knew we were up and about. They were holding Akhaura in strength and were very well-prepared to defend.’

The Pakistanis had done their homework. Fields of fire had been carefully worked out and cleared. Artillery and mortars had identified defensive fire tasks along the most likely approaches to Akhaura and were stocked up for an extended engagement. Armour, too, had been sited along tankable approaches. Barbed wire and minefields lay in a deadly ring around Akhaura.

 

 

 

Located almost directly opposite Agartala, the East Pakistani town of Akhaura was an important rail, road and water communication centre close to the Indian border. It was imperative to capture it and secure the area up to the west bank of the Titas river since not only was it the first major hurdle on the road to Dacca, but also because the Pakistani artillery located there was often used to shell Agartala and the Indian BOPs.

In keeping with the Pakistani High Command’s strategy of halting any Indian offensive on the border itself, all major towns and cities on all possible approaches to East Pakistan heartland had been heavily fortified. Each of these towns was very well equipped and stocked to fight a protracted defensive battle, meant to deter and deny the Indian Army from making any territorial gains. Akhaura was one of such strongpoint.

Till such time as the Indian offensive made a breakthrough somewhere, they would not be able to hit the heartland of East Pakistan.

The God of War’s arrow had landed on Akhaura. That is where the storm of the Indian offensive would be unleashed first.

That is where the Garud struck first.

 

 

 

The Tripura border is a low lying marshland. The Titas river criss-crosses that particular stretch of land, which the 4 Guards (1 Rajput) would be traversing that night.

There were over eight hundred of them present in the battalion on that day. And each one of them was aware that there was a strong possibility that they may not return alive from this foray. Or maybe they would, but without an arm or a leg. However,
whatever
apprehensions may have nestled in their hearts, there was only firm resolve on their faces. This, after all, was the day that they had been groomed and trained for. This, after all, is the
raison d’etre
of every soldier; to live with honour and, if required, to die with dignity. But, in either case, ensure that the mission is completed.

The gravity of the occasion may not have yet sunk in, but the enormity of the task facing them began to, within minutes of crossing the border.

 

 

 

‘The original plan had been for our battalion to capture Akhaura with a frontal attack,’ Granthi leaned forward and pointed it out on the map spread on the bed between us. ‘We had planned everything accordingly. We had even carried out the recce and all.’

‘4 Guards, along with a squadron of tanks, was given this task,’ Paunchy elaborated. ‘We were to carry out the attack with three companies and the tanks from the south, and the fourth company, mine, was to infiltrate behind Akhaura and set up a block to cut it off.’

‘All the while, this is what we had been planning for,’ Midha interjected. ‘I remember my company commander, Major
Kharbanda
, going on recce twice with an armoured corps officer, Lieutenant Mohan, to check the terrain and the infiltration routes. Kharbanda was one of Himmeth’s demons and always got selected for such tasks,’ continued Paunchy amid loud guffaws from everyone. ‘Every time he had to go across, he would hand over his ring and rudraksh etc. to me, along with several instructions, just in case he didn’t come back.’

‘Even though the terrain helped, the patrolling was a pain,’ Glucose pointed out. ‘Luckily, we had very confident Bengali guides, the Mukti Bahini chaps.’

‘They were okay,’ Granthi sounded dubious. ‘Major
Kharbanda
always said he could never be sure how much we could rely on them once the guns opened up. Once that happened, it was anyone’s guess if they would stay or run. But in those days, before the war, they were pretty useful. Each company had ten Mukti Bahini men allotted to it, though we had managed some more on our own. Our people would dress up as civilians and go through the enemy lines with them.’

‘Yes, Major Kharbanda used to really crib about that,’ said Midha again. ‘He used to say that he looked like a Bengali when he wore civilian clothes.’ Again, there was no malice or bias in his tone, just good old, rustic North Indian humour.

‘Bravo Company commanded by Kharbanda and my company (Alpha) would be leading the advance, which is why we were landed this task. Kharbanda was the obvious choice for the recce patrol as he originally came from Dera Ismail Khan, and could speak Pushto. Thus, in the event of being accosted by the enemy, he could bluff his way out by masquerading as a Pathan, or so we hoped,’ he explained further.

It sounded hilarious now. I wondered what Kharbanda would have had to say about it back then.

‘I didn’t want to go since I was also the 2IC (second-in-command) and knew the detailed operational plan. I was worried that if I got caught, they would hammer the plan out of me,’ Paunchy pointed out sheepishly.

‘The terrain did facilitate patrolling, but it would make operations really painful, especially since we did not even have maps of the area across the IB,’ Glucose added. ‘Luckily, Paunchy had managed to get hold of an old 1963 survey map of that region from Major Zia Ur Rehman.’

‘And who was he?’ I asked, as the plethora of unfamiliar names was becoming confusing.

Major I.P. Kharbanda VrC

‘Major Zia was an East Pakistani officer who defected. He came to us on 10 April 1971 and operated from our location for three months.’

‘He used to chat with us often.’ Guardsman Islam
Mohammed
of Alpha Company added. ‘When he found out I was a Muslim he asked me if we (Muslims) faced any problems in the Indian Army. When I explained to him that our unit was a mixed class one and had a fair number of Muslims and Christians, he was quite surprised. Even more when I shared that no one cared about our religion as long as we did our duty.’

BOOK: THE GARUD STRIKES
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