The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories (6 page)

By now, however, all the men of the post had become casualties. Realizing this, the enemy was quick to attack again. In the third attack, Naik Yadunath Singh, now wounded and alone, rose to fight singlehandedly.

Like a warrior blessed with eternal life, he came out of the trenches, bloody and limping, gun in hand. Firing at the enemy, his injured arm dripping blood, he charged. Shocked by his mad disregard for personal safety, the surprised enemy fled in disorder.

Yadunath was still walking when a bullet came whizzing and lodged in his chest. He ignored it and continued to fire till another one whipped into his head. Eyes still open and breathing fire, Yadunath dropped to his knees and crumbled in front of No. 2 picket of Tain Dhar. His bullet-riddled body lay there with his eyes still staring at the retreating enemy soldiers. And there Naik Yadunath Singh breathed his last. He had not allowed the enemy to take over his picket.

It was discovered later that Yadunath suffered eight bullet wounds during the three waves of the attack. There were many other heroes besides him who died fighting that day. They were men who had lived up to the highest traditions of bravery and glory.

Yadunath Singh stood tall for his own sacrifice. For his gallant action in the face of the enemy, he was honoured posthumously with the Param Vir Chakra. His story has been immortalized in the battalion war records.

The war record of 6 February 1948 that I come across in the 4 Guards archives, written in ink on parched paper that feels brittle to the touch, reads;
‘No. 2, 9, 7 and Kipper’s post attacked simultaneously. Enemy put in about 1500 to 2000 on each piquet. Enemy launched the attack in several waves. The battle lasted for two hours. Last wave beaten back by cold steel and bayonet. Enemy retired leaving 260 bodies, 131 rifles, and over 200 swords. Total enemy casualties believed 3000 killed, 1000 wounded. Own casualties— 21 killed and 62 wounded.

Naik Yadunath Singh was born on 21 November 1916 in Khajuri village of Shahjahanpur in Uttar Pradesh to a poor farmer called Birbal Singh Rathore. The young Yadunath was attached to his mother, Jamuna Kanwar. He was one of eight siblings—seven boys and a girl.

The family was not very well off—there were many mouths to feed—and Yadunath had no access to a good education. Till he was in class 4, he attended the village school, working in the fields or at home after school to contribute to the family.

He was noticed in the village because he became a wrestling champion and would often sort out goons who misbehaved. He was also deeply religious and a staunch devotee of Hanuman, so much so that he took a vow to remain a bachelor for life and followed it.

When Yadunath was 25 years old, he enrolled in the Rajput Regiment on 21 November 1941 at the regimental centre, Fategarh. After he had completed his training he was sent to the 1
^st
battalion of the Rajput Regiment. He took part in World War II, showing glimpses of leadership and gallantry even then. He was promoted to the rank of naik and appointed commander of a section of troops. His true colours showed in the battle of Tain Dhar, where he bravely battled a fierce enemy despite his men being completely outnumbered.

Yadunath’s performance continues to be a great inspiration to the men of his battalion even now. Every year, Naushera Day is celebrated in 4 Guards with great solemnity and a presentation is made on the battle of Tain Dhar by the officer commanding C Company to acknowledge and remember the great act of bravery performed by Naik Yadunath Singh in 1948.

The hero lives on.

It is a dark-purple moonlit night. But Company Havaldar Major (CHM) Piru Singh cannot afford to look up. The route is steep and filled with loose stones; one misstep can send him plunging down into the valley, leaving a mass of broken flesh and bones.

Piru Singh’s boot has just struck a rock that has gone tumbling down. For a fraction of a second, he stops to look at its deep descent. And then he looks up at the treacherous ridge he and his section from Delta Company, 6 Rajputana Rifles (Raj. Rif.), are trudging up. If he arches his neck right up, at an angle of nearly 180 degrees, he can see where the mountain ends, dark, craggy, uninviting. That is where the enemy sits and that is where he and his men are headed.

D Company has been tasked with attacking and dislodging Pakistani irregulars from Darapari in the Tithwal sector of Kashmir. It is at a height of 11, 481 feet and the attacking company has been told that the enemy is sitting there watching the narrow path that winds its way up though they have probably not had enough time to dig in deep. Piru Singh takes a few deep breaths and resumes his climb; the air is starting to get colder and the long march of 30 miles all the way from Tangdhar has started telling on the spirit of the soldiers. He knows they are tired. So is he. But in war tiredness is the least of a soldier’s concern.

To distract himselffom the long climb ahead, Piru Singh lets his thoughts drift to nine months back. His battalion had been in Gurgaon, involved in internal security duties when orders came for them to move to Kashmir. The hill state needed to be defended from raiding Pathans and Pakistani Army regulars. The soldiers were airlifted to Srinagar on 5 November 1947. For many of them it was the first ride in an airplane and for a few moments at least the threat of war was overshadowed by the thrill of that first plane ride.

Once in Kashmir, the battalion was thrown in the midst of action and the brave men more than proved themselves in the first few months. In April 1948, they were sent to Uri and had fought back a vicious enemy attack where they inflicted major damages on the enemy. They went on to capture an enemy position on the night of 29 April for which Rifleman Dhonkal Singh was awarded a Maha Vir Chakra posthumously. He had immediately become a battalion hero. Dhonkal had guided his platoon through a thick pine forest along a ridge and had faced the brunt of enemy light-machine-gun fire. In spite of suffering a serious injury on his left shoulder, Dhonkal Singh had crawled ahead and destroyed the enemy post by flinging a hand grenade at it. Hit by splinters in the face and chest, he had known he would not live long, and had used all his remaining strength to lob another grenade at the retreating enemy soldiers, killing them instantaneously. The post had been captured by 6 Raj. Rif., but Dhonkal Singh had succumbed to his injuries.

Piru Singh, full of respect for his brave comrade, does not know then that he will soon perform an act of bravery that will be as incredible as Dhonkal’s. Humming a tune to himself, he marches on.

The entire spring of 1948 had been used by the Indian Army to launch a major attack to throw the intruders right out of Kashmir. Orders came for 6 Raj. Rif., which was at Uri, to march to Tithwal to strengthen the 163 Infantry Brigade across the Nastachun Pass. The brigade was planning an offensive to dislodge the Pakistanis sitting in this sector. The pass was at 10, 264 feet and the companies were deployed in areas flanked by Point 11481 on Kafir Khan Ridge that was a feature occupied by the Pakistanis.

The battalion had to move at 24 hours’ notice and was to take up position on the Baniwala Dana ridge on 12 July. But a deep nala separated the ridge from where the Indian Army was positioned and the engineers had to be called in to build a bridge across this so that the soldiers could cross over. Time was at a premium and the deadline given for the bridge to be in place was the evening of 11 July.

Though all efforts were made, it was tough task and the engineers could not meet the deadline. Since the attack could not be delayed further, the engineers put a big log of wood across the nala. This was the makeshift bridge that B and D companies of 6 Raj. Rif., along with modified battalion headquarters, used to cross over on the night of 11 July.

B Company led the advance and, at 5. 30 a. m. on 12 July, they managed to capture one of the features without facing any opposition from the enemy. D Company was told to pass through and secure the second feature. The attacks by 6 Raj. Rif. and 3 Royal Garhwal Rifles continued. The enemy was chased away, arms and ammunition captured and a counterattack repulsed. Reconnaissance parties and patrols were then sent out to ascertain the enemy positions and the soldiers came back and reported that a feature called Darapari, which was at 11, 481 feet, dominated the 163 Brigade-defended sector. It was heavily defended by Pakistani Army irregulars.

Just a bit further was yet another feature held by the enemy. It was felt that if the Indian Army wanted to make any further progress, Darapari and the second feature would have to be captured. The task of capturing Darapari was given to 6 Raj. Rif. under the command of Lieutenant Colonel S. S. Kallan on 16 July 1948. On 18 July, the battalion attacked along the narrow and razor-sharp ridge. This was going to be the operation where CHM Piru Singh would fight until death and secure for his battalion the coveted Darapari and also bring home the Param Vir Chakra.

The path that leads from D Company’s forward position to Darapari is barely one metre wide; on both sides are deep gorges and the soldiers are moving ahead silently in the dark; loaded rifles in their hands. D Company has been tasked with clearing Darapari and after that had been secured C Company is to move in, pass through, attack and capture the second feature. Nighttime has been chosen for the offensive deliberately so as not to alert the enemy soldiers and to take them unawares. ‘Nobody will talk, light a match or even cough,’ Piru Singh, whose platoon is leading the attack, tells his men and they nod in agreement. Up above somewhere are the Pakistanis, and Piru Singh is sure they have the path in their gun-sights. Alerting them to the presence of the Indian Army soldiers climbing up would be suicidal.

Though intelligence reports say that the enemy could not have had time to make proper trenches and hence it would be easy to throw them out, these reports turn out to be wrong. Unknown to the soldiers, the enemy has dug five bunkers that overlook this narrow path and had it covered completely by three medium machine guns (MMGs). The Pakistanis are also anticipating an attack and are alert, so the moment the advancing soldiers reach close to their bunkers, they open fire. D Company is trapped in this bottleneck and caught completely unaware. Bullets and shells fly in the cold night which reverberates with the screams of hit soldiers. Within a short span of 30 minutes, as many as 51 soldiers become casualty to the machine guns, grenade attacks and 2-inch and 3-inch mortars.

Suddenly there is complete chaos. If at that crucial moment, Piru Singh does not step in and decide to put his own life at risk to further the advance of his company, the battle would be lost right then.

Piru Singh is with the forward section. Half of his men have fallen already and he can see them bleeding, limbs ripped apart, their moans filling the gaps in the din of the crossfire. Some of them are dead, others disabled by their injuries. Piru Singh himselfhas miraculously escaped though his clothes are singed and ripped by the grenade attacks and his arms and legs are bleeding from shrapnel injuries. He knows that the only way to tackle this attack is to silence the machine guns that are breathing fire on the mountain. Completely unmindful of his own safety, he makes a dash for the nearest bunker from where the machine-gun fire is coming. Rushing through the hail of bullets, he sprays the enemy soldiers lodged in the trench with Sten-gun fire. Before they realize he is there, he jumps in and bayonets the men handling the gun. They fall with loud screams of pain and shock and the gun falls silent.

By then the damage is done and Piru Singh realizes that all his comrades are dead. He is the only one left alive in his section. Screaming in anger, he leaps across the boulders to the next MMG post. The enemy have noticed his lone act and direct fire at him. A grenade flung at him finds its mark. It wounds him in the face and eyes but Piru Singh is beyond pain and discomfort. He doesn’t notice the blood dripping down his chin and seeping into his shirt collar.

Climbing out of the trench, he wipes the blood out of his eyes and starts lobbing grenades at the next enemy position. Walking through the attacking fire, he makes his way to the second bunker and, climbing in, bayonets the two soldiers manning the second MMG. Two of the guns have now fallen silent but he knows there is one more.

By now, he is starting to lose consciousness because of the excessive blood loss. His eyes are shutting and the blood is dripping right into them. By sheer dint of will power, Piru Singh forces his eyes to stay open. He pulls himself out of the second trench with great difficulty and shouting out the battalion war cry ‘Raja Ramchandra ki Jai’, he pulls out a grenade. He has not reached the third bunker when a bullet hits him in the head.

Piru Singh knows he is falling; he wants to reach the next machine gun but he no longer has any power over his limbs. Grenade in hand, he tries to walk but his legs collapse under him. Even as he drops to the ground, he manages to remove the pin from the last grenade and lobs it at the third bunker. The grenade traces an arch and as Piru Singh lies breathing his last on the ridge of Darapari, he wills his eyes to stay open. He watches the grenade find its mark. A loud blast rings out and he watches the bunker collapse, killing the enemy soldiers and silencing the MMG inside. Piru Singh Shekhawat finally closes his eyes.

C Company commander witnesses this act of heroism while directing fire in support of the attacking company. For his unmatched bravery, inspiring example and superhuman courage in the face of the enemy, CHM Piru Singh is awarded the Param Vir Chakra posthumously. The 6
^th
Battalion, Rajputana Rifles, is awarded the Battle Honour of Darapari. In a letter to Piru Singh’s mother, the then Prime Minister of India, Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru writes; ‘He paid with his life for his singularly brave act, but he left for the rest of his comrades a unique example of single-handed bravery and determined cold courage. The country is grateful for this sacrifice made in the service of the Motherland, and it is our prayer that this may give you some peace and solace.’

Piru Singh Shekhawat was born on 20 May 1918 in Rampura Beri village of Churu, Rajasthan, then Rajputana. He came from a large agricultural family and was one of seven siblings; he was the youngest of three brothers and had four sisters.

Piru began school at the age of six, but right from the beginning he did not like any kind of restriction. School became a daily punishment for this free-spirited, happy- go-lucky child and finally one day, he decided he had had enough. Flinging his slate at his teacher, Piru ran away from his classroom. He never returned, preferring to tend to the fields with his father rather than sit inside a boring, restrictive classroom. Piru was fond of hunting and roaming the forests and now had all the time for the things he loved.