The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories (4 page)

The hot-headed Karam had reached the end of his patience. He beat up the mill owner. The case was reported and since the mill owner had connections in high places, Karam was dismissed from service as punishment for manhandling a civilian.

Not one to take injustice lying down, Karam went to Delhi with his war medals and sought an interview with the President. It was granted. When he explained to the President what had transpired, he was immediately reinstated in service.

The jawans were thrilled with his victory. Karam had been proved a hero in their eyes once again. ‘Ek kahawat hai jee, karela—woh bhi neem chada,’ (A bitter gourd, that too one that grows on neem) chuckles Kala Singh, rubbing a hand over his white beard. ‘Ek toh pehle hi kadwa, upar se neem ke ped pe chad ke baitha hua. Aisa tha Karam Singh Saab. Ek toh sardar tha upar se uske pas award tha!’ (His fearlessness was compounded by his forthrightness. That was our Karam Singh Sahib—for one he was a sardar and then he had his awards!)

Karam Singh was born on 15 September 1915, while World War I was being fought. The son of Sardar Uttam Singh, a well-off farmer in Sehna village, near Sangrur in Punjab, Karam grew up tending to the fields and playing kabaddi with the boys. He never went to school and could not write much beyond his own name.

This did not stop him from rising in the forces; he became the quarter master havaldar of his battalion. He was sharp and intelligent, which made up for his lack of writing ability.

He was enrolled in the Army on 15 September 1941 and was sent to 1 Sikh, which was posted in the then North-East Frontier Agency. He was a good sportsman, excelling at high jump and pole vault, and was recognized in his company as a very brave man right from when he was a young soldier.

Much of his reputation came from the Military Medal that he won for his bravery during the Burma war in 1944. He thus became a hero for his battalion at a very young age. Most of the time while he was in the battalion, he stayed posted in Alpha Company, which was where he got both his gallantry awards.

Karam Singh married Gurdial Kaur in the early 1950s. The couple had two children—a son and a daughter. The son studied till class 10 and then took to farming while the daughter got married.

Karam holds the distinction of being the first living soldier to wear a PVC on his chest.

Rama Raghoba Rane is on his stomach and crawling under a Stuart tank that is slowly making its way across a minefield. He is trying to do it at a pace that matches the speed of the tank that is moving above him. His leg, badly slashed fom exploding mortar, hurts with any movement but he ignores the pain, concentrating instead on the massive wheels that are turning with a deep rumble that is reverberating in his ears. Rane holds in both his hands thick ropes that are attached to the tank. He is using them as a signal for the tank to stop or move. Each time he spots a mine ahead, he pulls the rope in his right hand and the tank stops. After he has cleared the mine, he pulls the rope in his left hand and the tank starts moving again.

The armoured vehicles are part of a plan to attack Rajouri and stop the Pakistani raiders, who are intent on carnage, rape and loot. Since every second means a difference between life and death for innocent locals, speed is of the essence and the Indian Army must get there as fast as it can.

Rane has devised this method of moving in the minefield under cover of a tank since the area is under constant enemy machine gunfire and his mine-clearing section is not able to work otherwise.

He spots a telltale, circular depression that means there is an anti-tank mine lying underneath. He tugs on the rope in his right hand. Above him the tank grinds to a stop. Using the fingers of both his mud-streaked calloused hands, Rane scrapes the stones and rubble from around the mine. He then gently removes the cover and reaches in to deactivate the fuse. Putting the lid back on again, he closes his eyes for a fraction of a second and heaves a sigh of relief. He then tugs the rope in his left hand and starts crawling again.

Eighty-nine-year-old Colonel J. P. Chopra, Vir Chakra, sits in his bungalow in Sector 31, Noida, with Pepper and Cookie, his two spitzes scampering around him. ‘Cookie leave,’ he says brusquely, and Cookie stops wagging her tail and squeezes herself under the sofa. Pepper slinks out of the door and hides behind the curtain, waiting for a chance to join the conversation again.

It has been more than sixty-five years since the Colonel and Rane were together in the same company, but the colonel’s memory of the time is vivid. They were from the Engineers unit, and their job was to clear mines, make roads where there were none, and help the Army attack the Pakistani raiders in Kashmir. ‘It was late 1947, war clouds were looming, and Pakistan was attacking Kashmir from two directions—from the Srinagar airfield and also from the Jammu side where they were coming on to the Akhnoor—Naushera axis,’ he recalls.

The Indian Army had to pull back from Jhangar and retreat to Naushera. Then they were ordered to go back and attack Jhangar. While 2
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Lt Chopra and a section of11 people were tasked with clearing the path towards Jhangar, Rane was with two sections (22 men), trying to make a road for the tanks to attack Rajouri.

The men, would cross nalas that would swell from six inches of water to ten feet depths if it rained. They would work with little food and rest, often subsisting on dry shakarparas to get the work done as fast as they could. Persisting even as a tank was blown up when it went over a mine, they lost count of days and dates as they cleared the dead and helped injured soldiers, laying out roads, removing obstacles and clearing mines so that the Army could reach Rajouri and stop the carnage the Pakistani raiders were indulging in.

To Rane goes the credit of getting the Army to Rajouri and thus saving many innocent lives.

It is 6 a. m. on a sunny April day when Rama Raghoba Rane and his section are put on mine-clearing duty starting from Nadpur South Fort area, near Naushera. Their task is to create a safe passage for tanks so that they can move from Naushera to Rajouri, where the raiders are attacking the civilian population.

After the recapture of Jhangar, the Pakistani army flees, but not before completely destroying the national highway from Rajouri to Punj. With no other way to reach Rajouri the Indian troops are ordered to create their own route till Chingas, which is an old Mughal passage to Kashmir. 2
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Lt Rane and his section of 37 Assault Field Company are attached to 4 Dogra, which starts the advance to Rajouri on 8 April 1948, with an attack on Barwali ridge, 11 km north of Naushera. They drive out the enemy and capture Barwali ridge by 4. 30 p. m. but cannot go beyond because not only is the area hilly, there are also massive road blocks and minefields on the road.

This is when Rane and his small team of Sappers are pressed into action. They start clearing the road blocks, but it gets dark soon and they are surprised by enemy fire. The Pakistanis have returned and are launching mortar bursts at the men trying to clear the road. In a stroke of bad luck, Rane loses four of his men. Sappers Abaji More and Raghunath More are killed; Sappers Sitaram Sutar and Keshav Ambre are badly wounded and later die in hospital, while a splinter hits Lance Naik M. K. Jadhav in the spine, paralysing him for life. Rane also gets a deep cut from a splinter that slashes his thigh but he refuses to be evacuated despite the heavy bleeding from his leg and asks only for first aid.

The bulldozer operator does not hear the enemy fire since his own dozer is making so much noise and has to be pulled out and evacuated. Though the Pakistanis are chased off again, plans to clear the road block at night are dropped.

Rane returns at dawn the next day to start clearing the landslide again. By 10 a. m., he has managed to clear the road block and the tanks move ahead. It soon run into another landslide that is again cleared by Rane by 3 p. m. The procedure continues, with Rane hitching a ride on the tanks; each time there is a hindrance in the path, he quickly dismounts along with his men and they work on clearing the track. They encounter fallen trees that have to be blown up, a culvert that has been damaged so badly that a new path has to be made and continuous enemy fire that has to be dodged This continues till dusk when the tanks are halted and the men quickly dig trenches for themselves and take cover for the night.

Around 4. 45 a. m. the next day Rane is back on the job. Despite great risk to his life, he continues to clear road blocks and minefields, helping the tanks move ahead. Slowly and steadily, they make a path for the advancing troop of tanks, and reach Chingas at 2 p. m.

Rane keeps working till 9 p.m. to open the road completely. Finally, at 11 a. m. the next day, the road is thrown open to all vehicles but the men soon discover that the road from Chingas has even worse road blocks. Since reports of the massacres in Rajouri are reaching the Army, a decision is taken for the rest of Rane’s unit to work at clearing the road from Chingas, while he and his platoon make a path for the tanks along the bed of the river Tawi all the way to Rajouri.

The men get to work again, blowing up the big boulders along the riverside. The river follows an undulating course and often the tanks have to get in and out of water. Sometimes, they get stuck and have to be pulled out. On 11 April, they halt again and finally, on 12 April at 6 p. m., the tanks reach Rajouri. Rane has worked without any rest all these days and it is a miracle that he has managed to get the men of 1 Kumaon and the tanks there.

Once the men reach Rajouri, they find it is a ghost town. They cross two blood-soaked pits of bodies, including those of women and children who have been massacred by the raiders. The arrival of the Army ends the violence and soon refugees start returning to their villages. The engineers are awarded the battle honour of Rajouri and Rane the Param Vir Chakra for his devotion to duty, courage and gallantry.

Major Rama Raghoba Rane’s act of exemplary courage would be remembered for a long time by the regiment, as also by the woman who loved him most. The memory of his courage is one of the first things Mrs Rajeshwari Rane, his widow, shares with me when I ask her about her husband, one of the rare men who wore a PVC alive.

The other indelible memory she has of him is of the time they first saw each other. He was the chief guest at her school, the brave officer being felicitated for the PVC he had received. She was a student of class 12, on stage singing a welcome song.

There was much excitement in Shivaji High School, Sadashivgarh, Karwar taluka, that day. 2
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Lt Rama Raghoba Rane was being felicitated for winning the highest gallantry award of the country. The programme began with a chorus of girls singing a swagat geet. Leela was one of the singers and she gave it her best.

As an embarrassed Rane looked on, his eyes fell upon a beautiful girl in a sari. She was singing sweetly, with all her heart, looking with awe at him. The moment he saw her, he felt she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and lost no time in expressing this desire to her family.

Leela was only 19 then. Rane was a national hero and though there was an age difference of more than 15 years between the two of them, her family was only too happy to accept him as their son-in-law. On 3 February 1955, the two got married.