The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories Read online

  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

  Jammu and Kashmir

  April 1948

  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 2nd 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.

  Advance to Rajouri

  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. 2nd 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 bee
n 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.

  Love at first sight

  There was much excitement in Shivaji High School, Sadashivgarh, Karwar taluka, that day. 2nd 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.

  Seventy-eight years old now, Mrs Rane sits in her Pune house and smiles gently at the memory of her 19-year-old self and the bold and brave Army officer who fell in love with her. ‘He extended his leave and left only after we had got married. Before that he asked me if he could change my name to Rajeshwari. He told me that during the PVC felicitations that were happening for him around the country he had once been invited to a maharaja’s palace and there he had seen the maharani whose name was Rajeshwari. She was really beautiful and had impressed him thoroughly.

  ‘When he came back home he had prayed to god that he should also get a girl who was as beautiful as she was. When he saw me for the first time, I reminded him of her and he felt I was the one for him. “Kya aapko Rajeshwari naam pasand hai?” (Do you like the name Rajeshwari?) he had asked and I had said yes. Hum sadharan log the. Unhone mujhe maharani ka darja de diya,’ (We were ordinary folk. He elevated me to a queen) she says shyly.

  She recounts many stories of his brave and fearless temperament, some of which she heard from him or his colleagues, others that happened in front of her eyes in the years that they lived together. She tells me how when he was serving in Kashmir, a girl once fell into a well; he jumped in without a thought for his own safety and brought her out.

  Another time, when they had been married just a few years, he had taken her for a movie at Bhanuvilas Hall in Pune. A fight had broken out in the crowd waiting outside the hall and it had taken a very violent turn. When things started getting uncontrollable, Rane leaped into the fighting mob and brought it under control by shouting at the crowd. Again, he did not think about his own safety even as his extremely worried young wife watched on quietly.

  Then, in 1962, while Rane was posted in Calcutta, Hindu-Muslim riots broke out. Detailed to contain the riots, Rane would walk often right inside deeply communal mohallas, while Rajeshwari would spend her time next to the phone, sick with fear, waiting for calls that could tell her if her husband was safe.

  Rama Raghoba Rane came from a martial race, the Ranes, who had migrated to south India. He belonged to the Konkan Kshatriya Maratha community of Karwar. Bravery seemed to have been in his genes. He served in the Army for 21 years and had the distinction of getting five Mentioned-in-Despatches for his bravery and enterprise. Not only did he earn a name for himself during the trouble with Pakistan in 1947-48, he was also known for his acts of bravery during his tenure in Burma during World War II. He is said to have shot down an enemy plane with his medium machine gun.

  Rane was born in Chendia village, in Karnataka, on 26 June 1918. His father was a head constable of police. He studied in the district schools, moving frequently with his father because of his transfers. He was interested in sports, outdoor activities and adventure right from when he was a small boy.

  When World War II broke out, 22-year-old Rane decided to join the Army and was recruited into the Bombay Sappers in July 1940. During the passing-out parade, he stood very high in the order of merit and was presented with the Commandant’s Cane for best recruit.

  He remained in 37 Field Company till August 1950 after which he was posted to the Bombay Engineer Group centre. He got his PVC in 1951. In July 1954, he was awarded the Chief of Army Staff’s Commendation Card for devotion to duty for his work during the Maha Prabhu Mela in Kashmir.

  Rane went on to command a bomb-disposal platoon and retired as a Major on 25 June 1968. But his love for the Army did not let him leave and he sought re-employment; he continued to wear the uniform till April 1971.

  After retirement, he settled down in Pune. He passed away at 73, in 1994, after undergoing an operation where the doctors were not able to stop his bleeding. He is survived by his wife Mrs Rajeshwari Rane, who continues to live in Pune.

  Jadunath Singh

  Tain Dhar, Kashmir

  6 February 1948

  Dawn has not broken, but all signs indicate it is going to be a cold and grey February morning. There is frost on the grass, masking the green with translucent white fluff. A swirling mist swept in through the night and a dense fog still hangs over the slopes of Tain Dhar Ridge, where the ten men of 9 Platoon, C Company, of1 Rajput battalion, sit guarding picket Number 2. They have just finished making tea in silence and are now, over steaming enamel mugs of the milk powder-sweetened brew, exchanging their concerns with each other in hoarse whispers, their voices still gruff from another endless, stressful night.

  The orders for them had been to defend the picket, which lies on the left shoulder of the Tain Dhar range, against an enemy attack and they have been holdingfort sincerely, though it has been peaceful so far. Intelligence reports have repeatedly hinted that Pakistani raiders, out to take over Kashmir, would be headingfor Naushera, and Tain Dhar falls on the way, which is why the men have been placed there. Every day and every night, the soldiers waited for an attack, but there have been none, even though excessive enemy build up had been
reported in the areas around.

  Shivering in their trenches in the brutal cold of Kashmir that morning, the ten men do not know that today is going to be the day. Thousands of Pakistani raiders have crept up on their tiny post in the darkness of the night and are just waiting for daybreak to attack.

  It is getting late and the shadows are falling when our car cruises into Beas Military Station where 4 Guards, earlier called 1 Rajput, are stationed.

  Winding between tractors, cars and motorcycles driven by brightly turbaned sardars who don’t give a damn about traffic rules has been painful and frankly I’m not expecting much even at the end of the journey.

  It has been more than 50 years since Naik Jadunath Singh or Yadunath Singh (the records call him both names) died and so far the leads have come to nothing. All the soldiers who fought the terrible battle of Tain Dhar with Yadunath Singh are dead too. He never married, so there is no real family to speak to. I’m seriously worried about how I’ll write this Param Vir Chakra account.

  In sheer desperation, I visit Beas where 4 Guards are located. The only information I have comes from the memoirs of the late Lieutenant Colonel Kishan Singh Rathore, who was a young captain during the battle of Tain Dhar. He has written: ‘Since the enemy was so close there was no question of covering fire and there was only hip firing and lobbing of grenades. The attack was frontal, we were grateful that they did not attack from the sides. Had the enemy attacked us at night, they would have won within five minutes and we would have all been slaughtered. It was then that the most astonishing thing happened. The enemy blew the retreat bugle and at almost the same time Major Gurdial Singh of 3 Rajput arrived. The enemy lost over a thousand men and victory was so complete that from then on Naushera front, the enemy was keener on running than fighting. ‘