The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories (14 page)

NOTE

The continued thrust by the Indian Army into Pakistani territory finally culminated in the Battle of Chawinda, where the Indian Army’s advance was halted. On 22 September, the United Nations Security Council unanimously passed a resolution that called for an unconditional ceasefire by both nations. With the signing of the ceasefire, all offensives were ceased on that front. The war ended the following day. India still retained almost 518 sq. km of Pakistan territory in the Sialkot sector, including the villages of Phillora, Pagowal, Maharajke, Gadgor and Bajagrahi, which were returned to Pakistan after the Tashkent Declaration.

With two Victoria Crosses and two PVCs—2
^nd
Lt Arun Khetarpal and Lt Col Adi Tarapore—on its honour rolls, the Poona Horse remains the most decorated unit of the Indian Army.

A man is crouched motionlessly on the ground; around him are nasty swamp bubbles. His boots are caked with dried mud, and he can feel an ant crawl across his left leg. He does not move an inch; ants are the least of his worries. Something drips down his neck and instinctively he touches it. It feels too sticky to be sweat. Lance Naik Albert Ekka brings his hand forward. It is too dark to see but he isn’t surprised to smell blood. Wiping his palm on his pants, he grips his gun again.

It is going to be first light soon. Ekka can tell this even before he notices the faint orange glow seeping through the purple sheen of the night up in the east. He is an adivasi and knows these things instinctively, as do most tribals. The stars are still in the sky when he drops to his knees and goes into a snake crawl with his 7. 62 rifle in his hands.

The bullet lodged in his arm sends a shooting pain down his arm. Another has caught him in the neck, making him stagger and fall before he grits his teeth and picks himself up again. A thin trickle of blood is oozingfrom the gaping hole and curving right down to his collar and into his neck. This wound is still warm and isn’t hurting just yet but he knows it is just a matter of time before the blood loss and the pain gets him. Ignoring it for the time being, he put his weight forward on his elbows and crawls into the darkness making his way to the old double-storied railway signal building from where the enemy medium machine gun (MMG) fire is coming.

When Lance Naik Albert Ekka reaches the building where the enemy soldiers have made a bunker, he can hear the deadly rattle of the machine gun booming in his ear. The ground trembles under his feet each time the gun goes off, filling the night with cries ofhis own men, helpless before its killer accuracy and range. The guns his own troops have are no match for the powerful MMG fire. If this operation is to be successful the enemy MMG has to be silenced.

Slinging his rifle on his back, Ekka reaches for the grenade on his beLt Removing the pin with his teeth and spitting it out in one quick move, he lobs it inside the old brick structure through a gap. He then waits for the soft hiss to die down.

Before the two men inside can realize what has happened, the grenade has exploded, making Ekka squint in the sudden light and recoil from the splinters that hit him in the stomach. It throws one soldier against a wall with its force, reducing him to a mass of flesh and blood. The other is unharmed and still bent over the MMG.

Ekka climbs up the rusty old iron ladder leaning against the building and jumps in from a window. He takes his rifle off his shoulder and with the gleaming blade of the bayonet charges at the soldier operating the machine gun. Ghonp-nikal, ghonp-nikal: he remembers the ustad’s instructions clearly. It has been hardly four years since his training and he has always been a quiet, but good student, silently absorbing lessons.

The time has come to put what was taught to test. Screaming with cold fury, Ekka charges at the machine gun operator and just as he turns around pushes the bayonet right into his stomach. Pulling it out with all his might, he raises his rifle and plunges the blade back into the man’s chest. Again. And again.

The MMG is still smoking when its operator drops down in a bloody pile. Ekka wipes the dead man’s blood off his face and stands there with the bloodied bayonet in his hands. His eyes bear a look of quiet satisfaction. And extreme exhaustion.

The machine gun has fallen silent. Everything is at a standstill. The night is suddenly quiet.

And then the battle turns in favour of the Indian soldiers. Major O. P. Kohli, company commander, Bravo Company, who is just 10 feet away directing the other men, has watched Ekka lob the grenade and climb into the signal station. Through the cracks in the building he can see Ekka attack the gunner and then turn. His heart fills with pride at what his man has done and he watches the building, waiting for Ekka to show up at the window.

He is relieved to find the small, slim soldier climb out and step on the iron ladder to join the rest of the men. With bated breath, he watches Ekka start to climb down. And then suddenly, Ekka’s body goes limp and he collapses and falls off the ladder.

Lance Naik Albert Ekka is dead. He has succumbed to his injuries. But he has accomplished his mission. While the men of Bravo Company go about clearing bunkers, free of the MMG that has been stalling their attack, Lance Naik Albert Ekka lies dead under the iron ladder that leads to the old brick signal station of Gangasagar.

The sun slowly appears from behind the darkness. The stars disappear one by one and soon it is dawn.

Lieutenant O. P. Kohli, of Bravo Company, 32 Guards (later renamed 14 Guards) Insurgency Unit, was at Abrera camp on the banks of the Chambal River, about 30 km from Kota, when a thin and dark young boy called Albert Ekka was marched up to him. He had cleared his battle physical efficiency test (BPET) and was now standing before Lt Kohli expressionlessly, refusing to meet his eyes.

Lt Kohli nodded at the newcomer and asked for him to be added to the rolls. Ever since the new battalion had been raised on 13 January 1968, it had been receiving men from the Sikh Light Infantry, Bihar, Kumaon and the Guards. Albert had come from a Bihar regiment. ‘Frankly, I wasn’t much impressed by the unassuming, docile and quiet young man. But he was an adivasi so I knew he would be physically fit and that was all we needed,’ remembers Colonel Kohli, Sena Medal, retired now and heading the Delhi regional office of an ATM security agency. Sitting in his conference room with a cup of tea in his hand, he smiles gently, recounting the memories that are streaming in. ‘We were together in the war. I was his company commander. But really, looking at him then, no one could have guessed what glory Albert was going to bring us. ‘

In May 1968, 32 Guards (I) was moved to Mizoram. Ekka was now section commander even though he was still a lance naik (normally a naik is the section commander). He was slowly coming into his own. He took part in counter insurgency operations, and showed great innovation. He was good with his subordinates and instilled respect. ‘His command and control were good particularly because he was very reserved and did not mix with others or speak much. His face would always remain blank and he would talk only on a need-to-know basis. One could never tell from his face if he was happy or sad, and what he was thinking, ‘ remembers Col Kohli.

He also remembers how Albert was completely disinterested in his personal appearance or his uniform. He would wear whatever size of uniform was issued to him without bothering to get it fitted by a tailor. The result was that his clothes hung limply on his thin frame and invoked the ire of his company commander, who was a bit of a stickler for smart turnouts. ‘I would often pull his belt which would be hanging at his waist and tell him to smarten up his appearance, ‘ Col Kohli smiles. However, Ekka made up for his disinterest in the way he looked with his killer instincts in the wild. When the company was out on a patrol, he would spice up meals by catching crabs in the nullah, roasting them on fire and serving them sprinkled with salt and chilli powder to the men. He was good at firing and excellent at setting traps for birds and wild boar. Often he would take his gun and a round of ammunition and come back from the jungle with a catch. And then when the time came for battle, he proved himself there gloriously too.

The trouble started in March 1971, when 32 Guards was in Dimagiri, and the refugees started entering India in hordes. Everybody could sense that it was just a matter of time before war was declared. Nine months passed and finally the orders came in December.

The Alpha and Bravo Companies were told to attack Gangasagar railway station, which the enemy had converted into a virtual fortress by establishing bunkers all around. The C Company was moved out to create a diversion while the D Company stayed with the battalion headquarters. The artillery was kept on call but not brought into action since the aim was to surprise the enemy by moving into their defences silently and the big guns would have alerted them.

It was 2 a. m. when the men of Alpha and Bravo Companies started their march into enemy territory. Since the general area was marshy and a soldier walking there could easily sink up to his knees in the slush, the men were asked to walk in single file along the railway track that had been laid on an embankment 8-10 feet high and equally wide. Enemy soldiers had earlier been observed walking along the track so the guards knew that the area was not mined.

As per plan, Alpha Company started walking along the right of the track and Bravo on the left. The men were moving quietly in the night, one behind the other. To maintain coordination between the two marching companies, Lance Naik Gulab Singh and Lance Naik Ekka were appointed as guides to march on top of the embankment, one on either side guiding their respective companies from the height. The orders were that the men would move along the railway track and charge when they saw the enemy. B Company Commander Maj Kohli (he had been promoted) was walking down below along the railway track with the troops. He could see Ekka right above, his thin frame a dark shadow moving silently in the night. This was how the two companies marched on, one on either side of the railway track with the two guides moving together on top, till they reached the enemy position.

All was going well till one of the guides walked into a trip-flare wire that the enemy soldiers had laid out across the railway line. The moment the device went off, it sent a bouquet of fireworks into the air, illuminating the area like daylight. The two men on top stood exposed. Just 40 yards away from where Ekka was standing was an enemy bunker with a sentry on duty outside.

Startled by the noise and light, the soldier on sentry duty shouted: ‘Kaun hai wahan?’ (Who goes there?) It was 2. 30 a. m. and he was still trying to figure out if the trip wire had been set off by a man or an animal.