1965 War - A Tale of Two Prisoners of War

My regiment (14 Field Regiment) was deployed in Chamb Jaurian Sector during the 1965 war. My father, then a Second Lieutenant, a rank now extinct, took part in the war and I grew up hearing war stories. Following his footsteps, I joined the same regiment and was fortunate to command it 45 years after the war.

Being a second generation in the regiment, I was privy to many incidents and events that peppered the regiment’s history but had gone unrecorded. In order to fill in the blanks, I took it upon myself to compile an exhaustive regiment history book. While undertaking this project that entailed deep research, one got an insight into so many stories that would have been lost forever once the war veterans moved on to the other world. Two such tales are given below.

Prelude - Enemy’s Surprise Offensive (as described by my father - Brig Harwant Singh, Retd)

On the first day of September 1965, Pakistan launched a massive offensive in Akhnoor Sector of Jammu and Kashmir. Operation Grand Slam, as it was called was led by two regiments of the then state of art American Patton tanks. Against this offensive we were equipped with just a squadron of obsolete AMX-13 tanks, whose armour was so thin that they were jokingly called ‘Tin Boxes’. All hell broke loose as the enemy artillery opened up with a massive bombardment by 8 inch calibre Howitzer, the heaviest gun then held in the subcontinent.

Though outnumbered, the ‘Tin Boxes’ fought valiantly as they took upon their superior cousins. The squadron commander was killed in action leading from the front maintaining the highest traditions of our Army. However due to massive preponderance of enemy tanks, infantry and artillery, our troops were forced to fall back. The usual ‘Fog of War’ prevailed till the Indian Air Force entered the arena by afternoon and stabilised the situation.

By the time enemy offensive was blunted and situation restored, we had suffered a few casualties. It was only after ceasefire that we learnt that one of our soldiers, who was missing in action and presumed dead, had been taken prisoner. His name (Gunner Sujaan Singh) figures in the list of 54 soldiers languishing in Pakistan jails, something our adversary has denied. In addition, we also had one Second Lieutenant, (RK Shah), taken prisoner, who was fortunate enough to be released a few months later.

Tale 1 - Inadvertent Prisoner Of War

“Son, my contribution to the 1965 war has not been given its due in the regimental history book you edited.” Having returned home after a long day at the ranges, it was not the best of time to receive a call from a veteran. The commanding officer’s appointment is one post where patience becomes the first casualty. “Sir, I did mention your becoming a prisoner of war and subsequent release,” I retorted to cut the conversation short. “Then, you need to elaborate on it a bit more,” he said assertively.

Given his age and regimental association, I had to give him a patient hearing. Moreover, this gentleman, Captain RK Shah, (Retd), an Emergency Commissioned officer who had joined the Regiment just a few months before the war broke out, happened to be my father’s colleague during the war in the regiment I was now commanding.

“The relentless thrust of enemy Patton tanks forced our troops to fall back in the initial fog of war. I was the observation post officer providing artillery fire support to an infantry battalion during the war” he started. Listening to a war veteran is like reading a military history book. “The unwieldy and cumbersome communication paraphernalia we carried on our shoulders made our movement on foot sluggish and my party got separated from the withdrawing Infantry.” As he spoke, I tried to visualise his predicament in the warzone. Barely a year in uniform and lost in a perilous situation, all he had was a map and his wits to rely upon and navigate back to safety.

He heaved a sigh of relief on sighting a convoy of vehicles driven by men in Khakhi, possibly of Central Reserve Police Force. “Those days, some posts on the Cease Fire Line, now called Line of Control, were manned by them” he continued. He rushed forward waving at the column for a lift, they too were possibly withdrawing from the front, he thought. Reality dawned upon him when he was close enough to recognise them but distant enough from his party which had stayed back camouflaged in the undergrowth. “The rascals in Khakis turned out to be Pakistanis and I was promptly taken Prisoner of War” the despair in his voice gave out his remorse. His party did not have the numbers to come to his rescue and withdrew after dark to tell his tale.

He was produced before the General Officer Commanding the Infantry Division of Pakistan. Other than some mundane information and personal details of his being an emergency commissioned officer who had got married a few days ago, with no aptitude or desire for a permanent commission in the Army, nothing worthwhile came to the enemy from this war trophy. In his frustration the General even slapped him for his obduracy. “However, he relented given the solitary star on my shoulder that was enough to certify my ignorance. The General after all had held the same rank in the same army some two decades ago and realised how much could be extracted from a second lieutenant.” the wit in his voice was palpable.

“Sir, I think this information isn’t quite suited for our history books,” I said, in exasperation. “Well, you must mention that during my lockdown behind the enemy lines, I’ve had of the unique distinction of having been interrogated and subsequently spanked by the future President of Pakistan!” he hung up, leaving me dazed.

That General was Yahiya Khan, and I had no option but to update our war history!

Tale 2 – Time Couldn’t Heal Her Scars

‘Do pursue the case for release of our prisoner of war’, said a former commanding officer when I gave a customary call to him seeking his blessings on assuming command of my regiment. For days, my mind kept brooding over the onerous task assigned to me. What could one do when successive governments had failed to affect his release? Was he still alive after decades in captivity? Given that we were deployed on the icy heights of Siachen Glacier, wasn’t it my duty to ensure that no coffin was despatched from the war zone rather than divert energy in opening an old coffin? Practicality prevailed over emotions but this issue remained etched in my subconscious.

After de-inducting to a peace station, an idea crossed my mind, now largely unburdened; while the release of our comrade could be a far cry, there was merit in doing something for his family to whatever extent possible. We certainly have the power to shape our future, regardless of our past. It didn’t take long to dig out the coordinates of his wife, now in the autumn of her life living on a meagre pension with poverty being her only wealth.

I had a word with my officers and men and it was decided to renovate her dilapidated humble dwelling. Having reconciled to the futility of chasing rainbows, this was perhaps the least we could have done. I was overwhelmed when the entire regiment volunteered for monetary contribution. A team was created to accomplish this mission of charity wrapped in dignity. The camaraderie and enthusiasm exhibited by our boys was enough to motivate other villagers to join in and the task was completed in record time. Visibly moved, the lady expressed her desire to visit us.

There were tears of gratitude flowing down the wrinkled cheeks as she arrived at the function organised to felicitate her. She put up a brave front by trying to smile. While her tears told her story, her smile spoke of the battles she had fought on multiple fronts. Recollecting her journey of life was like reopening a page from history. She had been married for only six months when her husband went to war. She remained single and childless all these years in the hope that one day he would return. Time had, however, failed to convert her scars into stars. Most eyes were moist by the time she finished.

“Gunner Sujaan Singh has certainly attained a fair measure of immortality. Taro Devi, his wife, isn’t far behind; for she too has sacrificed her today for the sake of our countrymen’s tomorrow”. I cut short my prepared speech as my own words brought a lump to my throat.

I relinquished command a week later with a sense of immense gratification.