The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories Page 8

  If Joginder Singh had not been killed in the war, he would have hung up his uniform in a year’s time and gone back to his wife and children in his sunny village near Moga in Punjab, with a monthly pension of Rs 116. Perhaps he would have still been farming wheat there while recounting war stories to his grandchildren about the day the Chinese attacked his platoon on an ice-cold ridge near Bum La.

  Kala has many memories of Joginder Saab. He was a proud man, he remembers. He would normally speak Punjabi but break into Urdu whenever he got angry. He would not hesitate to pull up the men under his command or even take a stand with senior officers. ‘Kadak jyada tha Saab (Sir was very stern), ‘ chuckles Kala, recounting an incident that took place in 1959, when 1 Sikh was at Jaipur.

  There was much excitement in the air, he says, because Queen Elizabeth was to visit. Sub Joginder Singh was the parade-in-charge and had been holding very strict practice for the 90 men under his command. After one such rigorous practice, he announced a rest of 10 minutes. The men broke the lines and dispersed happily but, much to Joginder Singh’s annoyance, were late in coming back. ‘You had been given a rest and should have come back running,’ he told the men and then pointed to a tree in the distance. ‘Sab uske bayen se jaayenge and daayen se aayenge (All will go from its left and return from the right), ‘ he shouted, sending the men on a punishment run.

  While going around the tree, one of the soldiers ran past a drum left behind by the band and couldn’t resist hitting it. When Joginder Saab heard the drum he was livid and asked for the culprit to own up. No one did. This made him even angrier and he told the men to put their weapons on the ground and start crawling on their stomach and elbows. Gursharan Singh, a footballer, was seen as the chief suspect but he refused to confess saying he was too scared of the punishment Joginder Saab would give him if he was found out!

  In another incident around the same time, an officer inspecting the cookhouse found some jawans on duty with nails longer than the prescribed length. Joginder Saab was summoned and pulled up. He tried explaining to the officer that since he was also in charge of the parade, he had been unable to find time for both the tasks. This just angered the officer further and picking up a fistful of sand, he blew on it saying: ‘Tujhe rait ki tarah uda doonga (I will blow you up like sand)’.

  Joginder Singh looked the officer in the eye, pointed a finger to the sky and then placed the tip at his forehead saying: ‘Jab tak woh nahi chaahe aap mera kuch nahi bigaad sakte (You cannot harm me as long as He does not desire it)’.

  The officer left in a huff, but soon realized he had been disrespectful to a proud, battle-hardy soldier. He called Joginder Singh to his office the next day; the two hugged each other and promised to forget the squabble.

  Joginder Singh was born on 28 September 1921 in Mahakalan village near Moga in Punjab. His parents were not well off and could not afford a good education for him. As a result he could not finish school and decided to join the Army.

  He was recruited into 1 Sikh and fulfilled his desire for education by clearing professional exams and becoming a unit instructor. He was a very strict disciplinarian and instilled respect in the troops under his command. When he was in his early 30s, he got married and had a son and two daughters.

  Joginder Singh died fighting a shamefully unequal battle his government pushed him into, completely unprepared and unequipped, but he is immortalized in the country’s history for his brave act of valour.

  This story was reconstructed from the memories of Sub (Retd) Kala Singh

  Shaitan Singh

  It is February 1963. A few months after the war with China is over, a Ladakhi shepherd grazing his herd in no-man’s land finds his way to Rezang La in Chushul, quite by chance. The destroyed bunkers, empty shells and used gun-cartridges scattered around tell him that he has stumbled upon the location of conflict. And then he notices the bodies. These are of dead soldiers in uniform, some still holding their weapons, faces twisted in pain. The extreme cold has preserved them in the moment that death claimed them. Their vacant eyes stare across space and time, a mute witness to their dying moments. These dead men speak of the terrible carnage that befell them. Speechless with horror, the shepherd runs down and informs the closest Indian Army picket.

  Accompanied by Press Information Bureau officials, 13 Kumaon sends out a group of men, who recognize their comrades. The bodies are of the soldiers of the Charlie Company, 13 Kumaon, commanded by Major Shaitan Singh, which was almost completely wiped out by the Chinese in the Battle of Rezang La on 18 November 1962. Every single soldier they find is dead from multiple bullet wounds, shell injuries or splinters. Some lie dead in their bunkers, buried under boulders, others are still holding on to the butts of blown-off rifles. The nursing assistant has a syringe in his hand and a roll of bandage, the soldier operating the mortar holds a bomb.

  Maj Shaitan Singh is lying by a rock, a blood-stained bandage on his left arm, his stomach ripped open by a machine gun burst. The battle-hardy Brigadier T. N. Raina, commander, 114 Infantry Brigade, is so overcome by emotion that he breaks down. The orders for every man to fight till the last round and the last bullet had come from him.

  What is most remarkable is that none of the men has a bullet in his back. This means no one tried to run away. While Maj Shaitan Singh’s body is sent back to Jodhpur, the other heroes of Rezang La are cremated with full military honours at High Ground, the place where the battalion headquarters (HQ) used to be at the time of the battle. Mass funeral pyres are lit. 13 Kumaon is later awarded the Battle Honour Rezang La and the Theatre Honour Ladakh 1962. These names continue to remind new generations of soldiers of the story of Maj Shaitan Singh and his brave men who died defending their country’s honour. C Company is later re-raised and designated Rezang La Company by Army Headquarters.

  Of the 124 men deployed at Rezang La, 113 died fighting. Five were taken prisoners of war, of whom one died in custody. Only six survivors found their way back to their battalion of whom two live in Rewari, Haryana, about 80 km from Delhi.

  Subedar (Honorary Captain) Ram Chander and Havaldar Nihal Singh, Sena Medal, both 74 and wearing the green- and-yellow-striped regimental cravats of the Kumaonis, meet me at the Rezang La memorial in Rewari. Since 13 Kumaon was an all-Ahir paltan, most men who died in Rezang La belonged to villages in that area, and the memorial, which holds earth brought from where they fought their last battle, is dedicated to them.

  Ram Chander was Maj Shaitan Singh’s radio operator, and one of the last people to see him alive. Nihal was on the light machine gun (LMG); he rolls up his shirtsleeves to show me the terrible scars of enemy bullets that pierced his arms when he was swinging his gun left to right. He was the only one left alive in his trench.

  It is from these men that I hear the amazing story of Maj Shaitan Singh and the Vir Ahirs of C Company, 13 Kumaon.

  Rezang La

  October 1962

  When a Chinese attack became imminent in Ladakh, 13 Kumaon was one of the battalions to be moved there under 114 Infantry Brigade, which had been tasked with defending Chushul. They reached Leh on 2 October and were moved to Chushul after about ten days. C Company was told to establish posts at a pass called Rezang La, about 30 km south of the village of Chushul. It was one of the routes the enemy was expected to attack from. The administrative base of C Company was about 10 km from battalion HQ and it took Maj Shaitan Singh and his company of 124 men three hours to climb to the pass. They took their heavy loads on yaks and ponies hired from local Ladakhis. Most of the men were from Haryana and had never seen snow before. Now, quite suddenly, they found themselves in freezing temperatures at a height of 16, 420 feet. They had been moved from Baramulla, Jammu and Kashmir, and had hardly had time to acclimatize.

  Maj Shaitan Singh placed his men on the forward slopes of the hill—Number 7 Platoon, under Jemadar Surja Singh, was on the north flank; 8 Platoon, under Jemadar Hari Ram, was in the pass area; and the central post was held by 9 Platoon under Jemadar Ram Chander,
with the company HQ next to it. The mortar section, under Naik Ram Kumar Yadav, was on the reverse slope.

  As the men went about digging bunkers and building defences, using sandbags, all that they had to shelter from the harsh, cold winds were 40-pounder tents. Every platoon had about 25 men. Each of them was aware that the orders issued by the battalion commander on 24 October said that if the Chinese attacked all sub-units were to fight to the last man and the last round.

  ‘The weather was terrible; we didn’t have proper winter clothes or shoes. The jerseys, cotton trousers and light coat we were issued could hardly keep us warm in those freezing winds. The soldiers would get terrible headaches and nursing assistant Dharam Pal Dahiya would rush from post to post doling out medicines, ‘ recounts Ram Chander. The quiet and soft-spoken Maj Shaitan Singh, would rough it out with his men.

  As radio operator, Ram Chander’s job was to establish communication between the different platoons. ‘When we were free we would sit together and listen to All India Radio. We would hear about posts that the Chinese were attacking and how they were massacring our men. Our blood would boil. We were itching to teach them a lesson. “Hamein mauka milega toh ham jam kar ladenge” (If we get the chance, we will give a very good fight), we would tell Sahab and he would just smile back,’ he says.

  The greatest disadvantage of Rezang La was that it was crested to Indian artillery fire and could not get any artillery support because of the ridges around it. The men of C Company were thus completely isolated and they were equipped with outmoded. 303 single action rifles of World War II vintage while the Chinese had the latest automatics. They were also under orders to not patrol the international border so all their patrols were restricted to within 400 yards of their location.

  The battle of Rezang La

  18 November 1962 is a Sunday. It is colder than usual and snow falls lightly over Rezang La.

  Around 3. 30 a. m.., the stillness of the early morning is pierced by the staccato sound of an LMG burst. Maj Shaitan Singh quickly asks Ram Chander to tune the radio set. Jemadar Hari Ram from 8 Platoon comes on air and says that the enemy has tried to attack their listening post with about ten men but were spotted. Number 8 Platoon has directed LMG fire at the Chinese soldiers climbing from the gullies and killed most of them, while the remaining have run away.

  ‘Shabash! Chaukas rahiye,’ (Bravo! Be vigilant) says the major. Suspecting there could be more enemy attacks he orders a patrol to check the gullies between 7 and 9 Platoons.

  The patrol returns and reports that these gullies are swarming with Chinese. The LMGs and mortars are put in position. Jemadar Surja Ram, 7 Platoon, reports that around 400 enemy soldiers are climbing up to their post. ‘We can see them clearly against the snow,’ he tells his company commander.

  Maj Shaitan Singh orders him to fire at them the moment they come within shooting range. When the enemy soldiers are 250 yards away, 7 Platoon opens fire. Their three LMGs blaze for four minutes. They report that the enemy attack has been repelled.

  Just then, 8 Platoon reports that 800 enemy soldiers are coming up from the ridge near them. ‘Aap Veer Ahir hain, poore josh se ladiye,’ (You are a Brave Ahir, fight with full spirit) the major tells Jemadar Hari who bravely replies, ‘Aap chinta hi mat kariye Sahab, ham ladenge’ (Don’t worry, Sir, we will fight).

  The platoon opens fire and the attack is neutralized. Maj Shaitan Singh orders mortar fire into the gully; Jemadar Hari Ram advises: ‘Sahab, don’t fire any more into that nala; it is full of dead Chinese men.’

  After all their frontal attacks fail, the Chinese quickly change their plan. Around 4. 30 a. m., they begin to shell all the posts at the same time. From the blinds recovered later, it is evident that they use three types of mortars; 120 mm, 81 mm and 60 mm. To destroy bunkers, they use 75 mm and 57 mm recoilless (RCL) guns that they have brought there on wheelbarrows. The four-foot-deep craters found in solid rock indicate that that they also use 132-mm rockets. ‘It was such a massive attack that no one could help anyone else,’ says Ram Chander. ‘We could not hear each other over the din; shells just came and blew up our bunkers. Of our main operators, one had his head and the other his legs blown off. Wooden planks were reduced to matchwood and sandbags to shreds of gunny. It was all over in 15 minutes and there was a trail of death and devastation left.’

  When the bombing ceases, the men who survive see yaks and horses on the ridgeline. Company Havaldar Major (CHM) Harphul Singh initially thinks it is Alpha Company coming to their aid, but when he looks through his binoculars he realizes it’s the Chinese bringing reinforcements to attack 8 Platoon. At the same time, 7 Platoon reports that nearly 700 enemy soldiers are climbing up to their post.

  Maj Shaitan Singh, who has been hit by a shell and has his left arm in a bandage, rushes from man to man instilling courage in them. He asked injured jawans to get first aid and be ready to fight. ‘All our bunkers were destroyed, our men were injured and dead, our ammunition was running out, many of the jawans could not even cock their. 303 rifles since their fingers had frozen in the cold, but Maj Sahab did not lose his nerve. He stood there calmly and directed the men, telling them to be brave and to battle on, ‘ remembers Ram Chander.

  Nihal Singh is on the LMG at the company HQ with his partner Ram Meher Singh. Ram Meher is hit by a shell and collapses. Left alone in the trench with no means of communicating with anyone, Nihal keeps firing till he is shot. He manages to pull apart the pieces of his LMG so that it does not fall into enemy hands. He has grenades but no strength in his arms to pull out the pins and throw them. Finally, he is pulled out of the trench by enemy soldiers and taken away.

  Maj Shaitan Singh is on the ridge when a medium machine gun-burst hits him in the stomach. It also burns down the radio set with Ram Chander so they are now completely cut off from everyone else. CHM Harphul Singh grabs an LMG and kills the enemy soldier who has hit Maj Shaitan Singh. He is hit by RCL fire and collapses. Breathing his last, he tells Ram Chander, ‘Don’t let Maj Sahab fall into the enemy’s hands’.

  Maj Shaitan Singh is losing blood and slipping in and out of consciousness. He repeatedly tells Ram Chander to open his belt since his stomach is hurting. Ram Chander puts his hand inside his shirt to find his intestines spilling out. ‘I didn’t open his belt because everything would have fallen out,’ he says.

  Ram Chander holds him in a tight embrace and rolls down into the ravine with him. Then, carrying his company commander on his back, he walks 800 metres and, stopping near a boulder, lays down the major. He meets another soldier, who is injured and bleeding. They get caught in enemy crossfire.

  Realizing that his men will not have a chance to escape if they have to carry him, Maj Shaitan Singh orders them to leave him where he is and save their own lives. ‘Go back and tell them how we fought till the last. This is my company. I want to die here. Yeh aapke liye aadesh hai,’ (This is my order) he insists, his breath coming in painful gasps.

  It is 8. 15 a. m. The snow is still falling and the sky is a dull grey. Reluctantly, the soldiers leave. They find their way to the quarter master’s shed only to find it burning. It has been set on fire by their own men, who had received orders to destroy everything and come back to battalion HQ in Chushul. The survivors walk six miles to reach the battalion.

  Meanwhile, Nihal escapes that night from enemy custody and manages to reach his post. He finds bodies scattered like rag dolls. Maj Shaitan Singh’s tent lies shredded to bits. His friend Chiman has his head blown off. Mahender from Mandola village is dragging himself around, his legs crushed.

  ‘Bhai mujhe bhi le chal (Buddy, take me along),’ Mahender implores him, but Nihal tells him he is helpless since his own arms are useless.

  ‘I couldn’t help Mahender,’ he says sadly.

  ‘Theek hai bhai, phir tu nikal (Alright buddy, you carry on),’ Mahender tells him and Nihal turns to find his way back to his battalion headquarter. He sees the enemy firing illumination rounds into the air to spot him, but his white par
ka blends in with the falling snow and he manages to climb down the ridge undetected.

  When he is tired and lost, Tommy, a big local dog from a nearby village, who has been a routine visitor to their post for meat, finds him. Nihal follows the dog blindly, tripping and falling on the slope.

  Many hours later, a soldier at the battalion HQ in Chushul, looking through his binoculars, finds a wounded man pulling himself through the snow. He is recognized as Nihal ofC Company. Both his arms are hanging limply by his side, his uniform is bloodstained and tattered, he has lost a lot of blood and is weak from lack of food and water. Nihal is brought back quickly, fed halwa and tea and then sent to Jammu hospital for treatment.

  He is one of the survivors of Rezang La; he recounts the brave tale of the handful of men who tried desperately to save their post from falling into enemy hands. He speaks of the 1310 dead enemy soldiers whose bodies were taken back by the Chinese. He says the Chinese got 25 trucks in which they loaded the bodies of their men.

  After the ceasefire, Rezang La falls into no man’s land, which means it is disputed and not to be occupied by either country. Maj Shaitan Singh and his men lie frozen there till a shepherd discovers their bodies three months later.

  ‘It is a credit to Maj Shaitan Singh’s courage, devotion to duty and leadership that his men fought so bravely till the end despite knowing that the odds were against them. They did this because he was the perfect leader, who inspired them with his own example,’ says Brigadier (Retired) R. V. Jatar, who was commanding D Company during the ‘62 war. ‘The written orders that all company commanders had received from the battalion commander during that war were that you will fight to the last man, the last round. Shaitan was the kind of man, who followed orders to the T.’