By late 1949 after the Kashmir debacle General Nathu Singh recommended the Army begin recruitment in full swing.
From the usual 800-1000 recruits during my time in 1952,
a serious recruitment drive pushed by General Thimayya saw the Artillery Training Centre, Nasik Road flooded with 4-5000 to be trained.
However, with insufficient barracks, training equipment, beds, camp cots, mosquito nets & clothing.…
Depots sent us shorts leftover from the WW2 campaign of North African deserts where it was extremely hot in the day & cold at night.
So instead of issuing a pair of trousers these shorts could be brought down below knee level at sunset & folded up & buttoned in the morning !
We had to alter 1000’s to cater to our requirements.
In 1958, at Para Field Regiment, Agra, the only one of its kind in our army there was an acute shortage of boots, belts, canvas shoes, shirts, trousers & warm clothing we purchased them from the market at our own expense.
Ordnance Factories (OFB) had been put to work churning out espresso machines thanks to the wisdom of our political leaders.
From 1945 onwards not a single new vehicle had been inducted & we were still dragging along what had been left in our depots by the British & Americans.
When the Regiment used to move by road for its annual field firing camp to Babina Ranges near Jhansi, a mere 250 kms away, it used to take us 3 days to get the last vehicle in due to breakdowns enroute.
We had an effete PM who had an irrational dream of world peace which according to him could be only achieved by downsizing the Armed Forces.
He appointed Krishna Menon, a dyed in wool communist, as his Defence Minister. A man who couldn’t get along with his COAS
as the latter was of the view that China posed a major threat to India.
General Thimayya’s warnings were dismissed by both the PM & DM as a warmongering.
PM Nehru after all had coined the slogan ‘Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai’.
Upon General Thimayya’s retirement a few months later Krishna Menon was able to appoint his favourites to lead the Army who were willing to do his bidding without complaint.
The rest is a lesson which will go down Military History Annals forever, as a humiliating defeat faced by the proud, once invincible Indian soldier on whose shoulder & back the British had fought WW2.
We were all packed & ready to leave Agra for my new posting to Srinagar when at my farewell dinner I was told that the orders had come for 50 Para Brigade to leave for Goa Operation Vijay - within 48hrs
I straight away requested my Commanding Officer that my posting for Srinagar, a much prized one in those days, be held in abeyance as I didn’t want to miss out a once in a lifetime opportunity -
not knowing of course that during the next 10yrs I would also be taking part in two
full fledged wars with Pakistan.
By 7pm , 2 Dec 1961, as a member of the Brigade Advance Party to Goa we left by the Punjab Mail, the fastest in those days.
Limited to 1 kit bag for spare clothes, including a blanket, we shivered through 2 nights before we reached
Belgaum via Pune on evening 4 Dec.
My wife who had been ready to leave for Srinagar with me just a few hours earlier now made a harrowing 9hr journey from Agra to her parents in Delhi with our 10 mth old daughter as all passenger trains had to make way for Military Specials
having Red Hot Priority rushing to Goa.
Even our Brigade reached before us, the Advance Party.
On reaching Belgaum, where we spent many sleepless nights with 1 blanket in the open, we were informed that Portugal had sought NATO support so the Para Brigade may have to be para
dropped to speed up the operations of 17 Infantry Division coming from south side Goa.
There however, was a hitch.
IAF had recently bought C119 Packet Transport planes for para ops but matching parachutes had still not been acquired.
We were still on the slower WW II vintage DC3 Dakota equipment.
Senior medical officers who had jumped in the Korean War a few years earlier opined that at least 15% casualties may take place due to the older chutes.
So a voice vote was taken by Brig Comdr, Brig (later Lt Gen) Sagat Singh in affected units for the willingness of the troops & all answered with a resounding “Yes”!
For 2 weeks we went on long route marches to keep fit & assembled & reassembled our guns over & over again.
In those days guns were not para dropped as a whole but as separate components, in containers before we ourselves jumped. Then we went about collecting the strewn containers to assemble the gun.
Fortunately, this option was not exercised as not one country came in support of
Portugal.
On 17th Dec 1961, a day before D-Day one company of 2Para Battalion was tasked to infiltrate across the border of Goa, head for Bicholim & secure the bridge over the Cudnem for our tanks to roll in.
We had a member of the Goa Resistance Movement to guide us from the Sawantwadi border.
But before we reached the Portuguese themselves blew up the bridge hoping to thwart our advance. The Brigade then scattered to other parts of Goa with different objectives while our tanks
crossed the river without a problem.
At Ponda, our objective, we found abandoned barracks of their signal school & armoured car squadron. The Portuguese officers we heard from Ponda residents whom we met in the evening had all headed for Panjim as were we, while the Goan
soldiers had been ordered to disperse to their villages.
Anyway, for a change, my course mate Capt KS Pannu of 2 Para Bn (later Maj Gen & MVC) & I spent that cold night of 18 Dec 1961 comfortably wrapped in the Portuguese Squadron Commander’s office carpet !
Although the 50th Para Brigade was charged with assisting the main thrust conducted by the 17th Infantry, its units moved rapidly across minefields, roadblocks and four riverine obstacles to be the first to reach Panjim, now known as Panaji.
Goa was now ours for the taking.
On 19 Dec 1961 The Governor of Goa , Gen Vassalo de Silva signed the Instrument of Surrender & Maj Gen KP Candeth, GOC 17 Infantry Division was appointed as Military Governor of Goa bringing to an end 451 years of Portuguese rule.
In all, 4668 personnel were taken prisoner by us —a figure which included military & civilian personnel, Portuguese & Goan.
The war had lasted two days & had cost 22 Indian & 30 Portuguese lives.
The war that busted two myths....
- One Pakistani soldier equalled ten Indian soldiers.
- Hindu morale would not stand more than a couple of hard blows at the right time & place.
The Pakistani Brigade Commander was astounded to learn that his counterpart, my Brigade Commander, was Brigadier Syed Yakub Munshi, a great officer, commander of troops & a thorough gentleman.
The JCO from our side was suddenly asked by the Pakistani Havaldar if he was from Hoshiarpur.
When the JCO confirmed it, the Havaldar took his name & hugged him saying that the JCOs father had saved his family and others during the 1947 riots.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
It was around 2001-02
I first heard the name #YogiAdityanath.
It was before the time our workers had their own cellphones & so would occasionally come in the office to make a call.
One particular afternoon I could hear the distraught voice of a young carpenter in the next
room & then the phone being repeatedly dialled by an office staff member.
He was trying to get through to a PCO where the carpenter’s parents were waiting.
His mother’s wails & his father’s trembling voice resonated in that office cabin as they broke the news to him that
his sister had gone missing. To date I remember the fear I felt sitting far away in Delhi.
As he collected his salary & hurriedly left to catch a train home to UP, work came to a stand still in our workshop & we discussed Kamlesh’s situation.
The once-invincible citadels are crumbling.
People who thrived & prospered behind those thick, impregnable walls seem nervous.
Almost fearful that the boundaries they had carved, the exclusive clubs they had maintained, will now be overrun by different ideas,
thoughts, ideologies…
With little or no infusion of new blood in our arts,
literature, history, education, culture, publishing, films, politics have been reduced to mediocrity. Manned by zealous gatekeepers drunk on power & arrogance.
Nevertheless, new, brave names are now coming forth.
From quiet insistence to a suppressed roar they have begun rattling the iron gates of many a citadel.
It is a fact that since time immemorial, every civilisation & society has pushed for churn & renewal …or perished.
Imagine spending every waking moment cursing the land of your birth, taunting faith & culture of the people who live here..
All the while deluding oneself to be the progeny of the sword wielding, stallion riding vanquishers from the Arabee who once ruled over Hindoostan.
Only ….
to have that horse brought to a skidding halt….!
Then insult to injury -
to be actually told to go back to what one was in denial of & running away from, in the first place.
Oops! no stallion, no sand storm, no Arabian Nights in this story dear Scheherazade of #WaPo
Strange,this past year
a man whose metier was to accuse his own country of intolerance & fascism on every occasion was killed by his co religionists in an Islamic country.
And now it took the Saudis, the keepers of Mecca Medina, to call out this woman’s dangerous doublespeak,
Out of the twelve schools I went through the 60s-70s, seven were missionary schools. Like others I went to school in the day & returned home to the safety, warmth & comfort of my family in the evenings.
Besides academics, I enjoyed the extra curricular activities these schools offered - in theatre, elocution, debate, music & sports.
I have many fond memories of those schools & some teachers left an lasting impression & lessons that serve me well to date.
It was however, in a missionary boarding school where I spent a year that I changed my opinion completely about this system of education & the influences it yields from morning to night, day after day without the cocooning protection of parents.
From my father’s various postings across India we always returned to spend at least a part of his annual leave at my grandparents home in Delhi, which in those days, was walking distance from India Gate.
To go after dinner with the extended family to the India Gate lawns, enjoy an icecream & buy a gas balloon was a treat I remember well.
George V’s statue oversaw the entire area & could be seen from every direction.
It was something that angered both my grandfather & grand uncle no end.
We kids were encouraged to always sit with our backs to it.
Mind you, my grandfather was a soldier who had served in Burma & Ceylon during WW2.
Imagine what has been interrupted.
Imagine what has been disrupted.
That the entire eco-system has no hesitation to set fire to this country, go to any length to divide it, because they believe they’ve been deprived of what is rightfully theirs & held once, so firmly.
The question arises again & again-
What exactly is at stake for them?
What exactly is the deal & with whom ?
Did they really believe that their position was so secure, with people eating out of their hands that they would continue to hold on infinitely in a democracy?
Were we even a democracy in the first place or just a sham wrapped around a Family?
This Family & its courtiers, always in power or close to it, has shown us over the past 7yrs that it has no vision,no understanding of our aspirations,nothing to offer except anarchy & violence.