Indian Defence Review

Though we stared long and hard, we could not see anyone. It seemed that no one had come to receive us. The usual compliment of military personnel was there, with their glum faces and their implacably disciplined bearing emanating an approach-me-not attitude for miles around. In spite of being prepared for this sort of reception by the neglectful attitude apparent during our short stay at Tezpur, we had still to accept the fact that we were getting the treatment that was being dished out to us not through any act of omission on the part of officialdom, but on account of a well-planned design of a number of Government departments and agencies working in close collusion with each other.

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By this time, after having received only unveiled apathy from our countrymen during our travails, we should have gotten used to their behaviour and so, our unheralded arrival at the New Delhi airport should have caused us no surprise. Instead, the funeral atmosphere of the place gave me the shock of my life; it was a mute testimony to the unfeeling machinations of the Government machinery. There was no way in which my wife could have been prevented from making an appearance at the airport, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour of our arrival, if only the fact of our anticipated arrival had been communicated to her. Similarly, at least the kith and kin of all other repatriates from New Delhi and neighbouring areas would certainly have shown up on the tarmac if they had been informed.

“¦we were not returning as heroes but as a defeated lot, and were being sneaked into the nations capital under the dark cover of a moonless night, more like a band of criminals than as sons of the soil who had shed blood in the service of the motherland.

The military personnel, who were at hand for the express purpose of helping us in boarding the waiting buses, carried out their duties efficiently without a word. Thus, within minutes of our arrival at the airport, we were in buses taking us to some destination of which we were totally ignorant at that time. As we were speedily putting distance between ourselves and the scene of our latest ignominy, the darkness enveloping the countryside descended right into my heart, in the shape of utter dejection in the humiliating treatment we were continuing to get from the nation. Years later when I had the occasion to witness on the local TV the scene of the spontaneous welcome accorded to the returned US diplomat hostages from Iran and the welcome accorded to the repatriated POW Naval Lt. Goodman by President and Mrs Reagan on the White House lawns, even the heart of a foreign citizen like me could not help rejoicing with the released captives. Even on that distant date, I could not entirely subdue the feelings of anger that rose within me at the comparison of these occasions of a young nation with our own degrading homecoming of years ago.

However, to get back to the story of our further sufferings. I am sure that had we somehow succeeded in getting the Chinese forces to withdraw to the internationally recognized border to MacMahon line, this very homecoming would have acquired a festive air. Under those conditions, we would have been sought after by one and all of the people who mattered in the political field. But in the prevailing circumstances, we were not returning as heroes but as a defeated lot, and were being sneaked into the nation’s capital under the dark cover of a moonless night, more like a band of criminals than as sons of the soil who had shed blood in the service of the motherland. Unfortunately, it was not humanely possible for anyone, no matter how important an office he held, to throw out the invaders at that time, working with the same plan that we had to. What a marked difference there was in this move and the move we had made a short while back, when marching bands, cheering crowds and hoards of well-wishers vied with each other to see us for our peace-time billets.

I could hardly get a straightforward answer to a direct question from anyone in authority in that Directorate. What a travesty of justice as enforced on us in the interests of security of the nation!

After we had absorbed the effects of the latest shock dealt out to us by our own destiny through the unseen hand of the all-powerful bureaucracy of the Government of our own country, we were moved into the regular barracks of a military installation, which I recognised as being the military hospital in Delhi Cantonment. An eerie silence prevailed everywhere, waiting for the appearance of a pale sun that had begun to light up the eastern skyline. An owl hooted, as if to mock the procession of heroes suddenly turned into supposed traitors. Wasn’t this an unforgettable homecoming! I for one still remember every minute detail of the occasion as it had been emotional enough to bring tears of grief at the time the drama was unfolded in front of me.

On getting into the hospital, we were slipped into a ward which had already been prepared for us, as unobtrusively as possible. This was a totally segregated accommodation, permitting very little or no contact with the normal population of the hospital. We were provided with a clean set of night-suits and were then tucked into clean, comfortable beds for the night. Sleep was still not possible for me for the remaining few hours of darkness, but in spite of my mental turmoil, I did manage to have a shut-eye for a short while that night. I woke up after my nap the next day when the nursing attendant brought in the usual bed tea. It was a hazy cold morning with just a trace of redness in the east, indicative of the spot where the sun would have been visible under normal climatic conditions. Nature was once again truly duplicating my mental state that morning.

The officers concerned seemed to be doing their duties at a very leisurely pace. They spent such an abnormally large amount of time with each officer they debriefed that it started to worry those still waiting for their turn.

As soon as we had done with our morning duties and partaken of our breakfast, a number of activities started taking place simultaneously in our ward. A medical team landed up to record the details of the medical treatments which each one of us required, fixing the priorities for treatment, while the records were being compiled. Along with this team of medical personnel, another team of Army officers swooped down on us. They introduced themselves as Intelligence Officers, sent down by the Army HQ to debrief us through interrogation of each of us about our respective experiences during out stay in the custody of the enemy.

From then on, our injuries got the regular medical attention required to aid the body in healing itself. In the meanwhile, our debriefing – no, not debriefing, but inquisition, very similar to what we had experienced at the hands of the enemy – was proceeding at a snail’s pace. The officers concerned seemed to be doing their duties at a very leisurely pace. They spent such an abnormally large amount of time with each officer they debriefed that it started to worry those still waiting for their turn. The cause of this feeling of anxiety was the ominous warning given to us at the very start of the process by the intelligence team that unless a repatriate was cleared by the team, he would have no rights to leave the hospital, or to receive any visitors within the hospital. Since this condition meant continued curtailment of our rights till clearance was given by the interrogators, all of us were keen to face the intelligence officers as quickly as possible. But it was not in our hands to do so in view of the leisurely attitude adopted by the powerful team that we were so eager to face.

The confrontation with the intelligence team that I had been eagerly waiting for finally arrived one day. At the very outset, I was asked by the officer debriefing me whether I had been subjected to any brainwashing while I was in Chinese custody.

My turn to face the squad was still to come. In the meanwhile, my wife came to visit me a bit later in the day at the hospital. Since I had not been cleared by the debriefing team till then, the administrative authorities refused her permission to see me, totally ignoring her feelings as a human being. The poor girl, who had been through hell in the few days that I was declared missing, could not stomach this new indignity heaped on her. Being an educated person, she knew she had her own rights, which could not be taken away by the military heavyweights. She, therefore, invoked her own rights of visitations rather forcefully at this stage. Since the Army authorities could not counter her pleas, they gave in to them and allowed her to visit me. When on seeing her I learnt of the absurd attitude of the authorities, my blood started to boil. It was not hard for anyone to imagine the anguish of a wife who has to live through the harrowing experience that my wife had to endure in the initial stages of the border war, and now for her to be denied the right to see me!

I got so worked up with this incident of blind obedience to orders from higher ups, that I took to verbalising my bellicose feelings about the responsibility of the authorities of the day for our sufferings in none too subdued a voice. Outspokenness is one of my glaring failings. And, on this day, I was tactless enough to mention names of a few political VIPs to whom I gave all the credit for the soup we were in. This was done in the hearing of some of the officers of the intelligence team, and in the presence of all other officers present in the ward at that time. I felt I had nothing to hide in the matter, and so, gave vent to my feelings in public.

After this incident on the first day, somehow better sense prevailed in the minds of the hospital authorities. The blanket ban on receiving visitors by the uncleared POWs was now interpreted to exclude members of immediate families. From then on, my wife and children had no problems in visiting me as often as they liked.

At that time, I had failed to consider all the ramifications of my statement. At that time, I did not realise the interpretation that someone in political hierarchy could attribute to my statement.

The confrontation with the intelligence team that I had been eagerly waiting for finally arrived one day. At the very outset, I was asked by the officer debriefing me whether I had been subjected to any brainwashing while I was in Chinese custody. The officer was unable to explain the term ‘brainwashing’. He chose to side-step my question on the subject, and instead, asked me to narrate my experiences from the time of my capture to the time of repatriation at Dirang Dzong. In compliance of these instructions, I gave a full, detailed account of my stay in enemy custody as faithfully as I could recall. In effect, the account that the debrief got to hear from me was more or less the same as has been recorded in this narrative.

As members of the Army, no officer is supposed to have any views on political matters. The subject is taken to such ridiculous lengths; that anything even remotely connected with politics is taboo in all Army messes throughout the country. This insulation of the Army from the political atmosphere of the country had some validity in the bygone days of colonial rulers. But the same attitude being adopted in free India does not augur well for the Republic. However, after I had completely briefed the interrogator about the details of my past experiences, he went into a reflective mood for some time. When he came out of it, I was shocked to hear him mention a subject which is treated like poison in normal enemy circles. He asked me for my opinion about the authority responsible for the muddle we were in. Since my views in the matter were not hidden from any inmate of that room, I unhesitatingly stated them. At that time, I had failed to consider all the ramifications of my statement. At that time, I did not realise the interpretation that someone in political hierarchy could attribute to my statement.

Though the debriefing team would clear the interrogated officer within a few days of tackling him, for reasons unknown to me, even to this day, no clearance was given to me for the entire duration of my stay at the military hospital. In effect it meant that I was held as a prisoner for that entire period. The enemy held us in their open prison camps for one month, on the grounds of our daring to raise arms against them. But, here I was being held a prisoner in my own country, in a major army installation that was heavily guarded day and night. The cross would have been easier to bear if only someone had bothered to tell me where I had gone wrong during my enforced stay with the enemy. My physical state and the numerous injuries on my body bore testimony to the fact that I had done all that was humanely possible for me to do, in the strange circumstances that confronted me. I was unable to bear the extended trampling of my human rights for reasons unknown to me. So, on a couple of occasions, when my presence was required in my civilian circle of relations and friends, I defied the rules and regulations of the uncaring and unfeeling all-powerful bureaucracy and left the perimeters of the hospital without any permission. Prior to this, I had never broken any rules and regulations in my entire career as a soldier, but this time I was forced to do so by the unreasonable attitude adopted by the higher-ups.

Prior to this, I had never broken any rules and regulations in my entire career as a soldier, but this time I was forced to do so by the unreasonable attitude adopted by the higher-ups.

My human dignity, which had already been badly bruised during my internment at the hands of the enemy, was being further subjected to inhuman degradation, all this at the hands of our own countrymen of intelligence and feeling, who should have known better about the democratic norms. In harping on ‘brainwashing’, no attempt was made by anyone to define the term at any stage. I am sure that even the intelligence sleuths, who had been detailed to debrief us, were not clear about what they had to look for in doing the job allotted to them. This ambiguity about their duties led them to adopt a set of tactics which hid their ignorance from us and at the same time gave them the satisfaction of having completed the work assigned to them. From the way I was dealt with I realised that they would get their unwary prey to repeat his side of the story uninterruptedly to begin with, and as soon as they got to areas of apparent gaps in the memory of the unfortunate repatriate, they would pounce on him and make him blurt out inconsistencies in his own story, which they would then term as instances of brainwashing. The way in which my interrogator cleverly side-stepped my direct question about the brainwashing phenomenon further lent credence to my belief about the conduct of debriefings.

Unfortunately, members of this group of repatriates, who were, incidentally, the most severely injured lot of people, and who had therefore already paid a heavy toll for the failure of the impossible mission entrusted to them, were the only ones who were made to suffer for the inexperience of the Intelligence team, for the unpreparedness of the nation for absorbing the shock of a defeat, and for the military unpreparedness to take on a major power. The numerous wounds on the bodies of all the members of this group bore mute testimony that no one in this group had failed to do whatever lay in their power in defence of the motherland. How then could the senior officers, both civilian and military, whose erroneous decisions had landed us in dire straits, assume a holier-than-thou attitude? Perhaps, they had still to learn that loyalty is a two-way street, which has to be maintained as such under all circumstances to reap the maximum possible gains out of any situation.

The numerous wounds on the bodies of all the members of this group bore mute testimony that no one in this group had failed to do whatever lay in their power in defence of the motherland. How then could the senior officers, both civilian and military, whose erroneous decisions had landed us in dire straits, assume a holier-than-thou attitude?

Surprisingly, our lightly wounded colleagues who were repatriated some time after us, and those officers and men who had successfully managed to slip out of the difficult operation without any physical damage to their person, were not subjected to the pressures and humiliations that we were made to experience. By the time of their arrival, all the public hue and cry about the defeat of the once invincible Indian Army had subsided and with that the quest for scapegoats. By this time, the inexperience of the army debriefing teams had also vanished reducing pressure on the intelligence officers to categorise more and more people as having been brainwashed by the enemy. The brainwashing fever was clearly on the ebb now.

Though New Delhi is the seat of the Government, with numerous government departments and agencies, located within a few miles of the military hospital, no elected or nominated Government official ever dropped by to enquire into our well-being. While, before the start of the hostilities, a large number of military top brass and a similarly large number of elected office holders on the civilian side, like the Prime Minister and the General Officer Commanding-in-Chief had come all the way from their comfortable hide-outs in New Delhi to the comparatively inaccessible and inhospitable NEFA region to pay us a visit, when we returned to New Delhi as a defeated group of soldiers, we were completely ignored. The Prime Minister, the Defence Minister and the President of India, the latter also being the de facto Commander-in-Chief of all the Indian defence forces, and who were also responsible to a large degree for the misfortunes that had befallen us, who were not only keeping a great distance from us, but were just not approachable through any channel for the redress of our genuine grievances like financial difficulties, family problems, which all of us had in the wake of the national calamity.

A few days after our arrival in the military hospital, a cooking accident in her home brought the wife of one of the ADCs to the President into the military hospital for treatment. She had been housed in the wing next to ours. The ADC concerned got to visiting the hospital daily after the admission of his wife.

On one of his daily visits, I happened to run into this officer, who was a complete stranger to me at that time. This chance meeting with the important personage led to our socialising for a little time in the corridor of the hospital. On learning of my identity, he shook me vigorously by the hand and congratulated me for having been nominated for the Vir Chakra (a gallantry award of a high order), which according to him had almost been approved by the Central Government. This unsolicited information coming in from the ADC to the Commander-in-Chief in a casual talk helped to clear my lingering thoughts on the subject. All the clouds of uncertainty vanished at this point, and notwithstanding the dark clouds of ill-will that still hung low over me, I started feeling certain that before long, my meagre contribution in the service of the nation would be publicly recognised. The chance meeting with the ADC had not only helped to dispel all foreboding thoughts from my mind, but also had been instrumental in upgrading the possibility of the grant of a gallantry award into a probability.

This unsolicited information coming in from the ADC to the Commander-in-Chief in a casual talk helped to clear my lingering thoughts on the subject. All the clouds of uncertainty vanished at this point, and notwithstanding the dark clouds of ill-will that still hung low over me”¦

While there were hundreds of us languishing in the hospital due to the injuries we had received in the service of the nation, and were suffering badly due to the resultant physical discomfort as also due to neglect at the hands of the entire officialdom, the President drove into the place one day. From our past experience we should have learnt not to connect VIP visits with our sufferings. But human nature being what it is, when we learnt about the physical proximity of the Commander-in-Chief, our hopes soared to dizzying heights, thinking that at long last the highest elected official of the land had come to atone for our past neglect.

Our disappointment can be well imagined when we learnt that he had come only to pay a courtesy call on the wife of his ADC and that he had gone back to his palatial residence after spending in her company the few moments required by etiquette. This visit still continues to haunt me, in spite of the passage of time and the fact that the President who imparted this cruel kick to those already on their knees at that time has long left this world. I cannot help wondering as to how any Government officer can accord higher priority to the sufferings of a subordinate officer’s wife than to the sufferings of hundreds of soldiers, whose sufferings were due to duties carried out in the service of the nation. This episode left such a bad taste in my mouth that it exists even to this day.

All this while the medical authorities were methodically going about their duties of attending to the injuries of the ex-POWs in their care. Moreover, as time went by, with the regaining of physical health, the bodies started asserting themselves in the matter of repairing all the damaged parts. With this dual assault on the wounds, all the wounded personnel started progressing rapidly. The bullet which had passed through my left wrist had, however, caused irreparable damage. So after a lot of preliminary work, it was decided by the attending surgeon to permanently immobilise the painful wrist by inserting a bone graft in the joint, around which all the shattered pieces would calcify in due course of time. The bone implant was undertaken soon thereafter, and then my physical sufferings were brought down to a tolerable level.

“¦when we as a group neared this important milestone of 120 days, with a majority of us still far from fit to face the outside world, we got to dreading the crossing of this 120 days limit on account of the financial hardship it was bound to cause.

Medical regulations in force at that time made it mandatory for all military personnel in need of extended medical care to go on half pay beyond the initial full pay hospitalisation period of 120 days. In applying this half pay rule the cause of hospitalisation was not given any consideration. For the purposes of pay, it was immaterial if one was in the hospital on account of normal sickness or an account of disabilities suffered through enemy action on a battlefield. Isn’t this a good example of democracy in action in our country! However, when we as a group neared this important milestone of 120 days, with a majority of us still far from fit to face the outside world, we got to dreading the crossing of this 120 days limit on account of the financial hardship it was bound to cause. Though we were promised by the hospital authorities of the issuance of an amendment to the financial regulation so as to exempt us from the 120 days limit, by this time we had lost all faith in the words of any government agency. So, in order to add to our already heavy burden of responsibilities, we opted to be discharged from the hospital just prior to the time when our pays were to be reduced to half. Though, with this discharge from the hospital. I had salvaged my finances from a sure disaster and had also brought an end to my imprisonment at the hands of my own countrymen, I was still in a very poor shape physically. My left arm was in a cast and a sling and the limp in the injured leg was very pronounced at the time of my being declared fit for duty.

My resolve to put my faithful batman up for some suitable award could not be converted into a viable plan of action, due to the impossible circumstances I found myself in on return to Indian soil. Unfortunately, this is not the only act in its category. A lot of such acts of bravery on the battlefield go unreported and thereby unrewarded through the failure of officers to put down the exceptional deeds due to one reason or the other. For my act of omission in this respect, however, there existed a legitimate excuse. I wish I could still find a way to get this soldier his well-merited award. Though my discharge from the military hospital had removed all the physical shackles limiting my freedom of movement and association, I was neither totally fit, nor was I entirely free from the misinformed or misinterpreted actions of the higher-ups, who still chose to be guided by the prevalent brainwash mania. Under the conditions, I felt that my battlefield experience must have been commented on adversely and these adverse comments must have found their way somehow into my service records.

The gallantry award about which I had heard a lot in the foothill camp and again in the corridor of the military hospital never surfaced for some mysterious reason, while the Vishisht Seva Medal took 6 long years in making its appearance. Perhaps in this case it would not be wrong for me to quote a popular adage covering delays of a similar category: Justice delayed is justice denied. And all this, because someone sitting in an office in New Delhi had failed to act in time for some reason or the other.

“¦it would not be wrong for me to quote a popular adage covering delays of a similar category: Justice delayed is justice denied.

Though after being released by the hospital. I was posted out in the normal course, and though thereafter the laid down procedure was meticulously observed in all my subsequent postings, I feel that during the remaining period of the time I spent in military service, I had been unable to wash the brainwashing blot in its entirety. This point became absolutely clear when my turn came up for promotion.

Not only was I not considered for accelerated promotion on the basis of my records, based on my satisfactory service both in times of hostilities and in peace, but on the contrary, was declared unfit for further promotion. On enquiring about the basis of this opinion, I was given the flimsy ground of my medical category being too low for higher ranks. This was a fine way of, rewarding a soldier. He is ordered in the first instance to face the enemy, and when he is injured in the process of carrying out his orders, and his medical category is subsequently lowered as a direct result of his obeying the orders implicitly, he is told that he is no good to the service in the senior ranks. If somehow I had succeeded in abandoning my men and evading the enemy, not only would I have avoided all the miserable experience that I had to undergo, but would have also been considered suitable for further promotion, as neither of the two stigmas – one of having been brainwashed and the other of having been placed in an unacceptably low medical category – would have been able to affect my career in the army.

Notwithstanding the promotion, I was totally disgusted with the service, and was, therefore, glad when I got a chance to emigrate to the USA. I accepted the offer as soon as I could so as to be out of the clutches of my army bosses before they could have any second thoughts on the subject.

This was the last straw. When I was subjected to this indignation at the hands of the Army senior officers in addition to all the inhuman treatments meted out to me till that time, every fibre of my being revolted. When I received a copy of the supersession order, I immediately submitted the request to be relieved of my duties forthwith. In doing so, I had made up my mind to fight the unfair system from the outside, since strict Army discipline does not tolerate its members raising their voice against the decision of its top brass. I had resolved to enlist the help of the already agitated media for my cause in fighting the Army set-up. The political atmosphere could not have been better suited for my project.

However, on seeing my resignation letter, someone in the chain of command had second thoughts and within a few days of my requesting for release from Army service, fresh promotion lists were mailed out reinstating me as per seniority. Notwithstanding the promotion, I was totally disgusted with the service, and was, therefore, glad when I got a chance to emigrate to the USA. I accepted the offer as soon as I could so as to be out of the clutches of my army bosses before they could have any second thoughts on the subject.

To say that I am happy in my present surroundings would be a gross misstatement. I have neither the social status nor the earning capacity or the health that I used to enjoy in the army days. At my age, when all the action is behind me, I can only think of the could-have-beens and the would-have-beens. However, in spite of the powerful kicks handed out to me by fate during my army career, I am comparatively well off and if one were to go by Indian standards even rich in my retirement. I am at complete peace with myself now:, as in spite of everything, I have done well for myself both mentally as well as materially. I, however, miss my mother country badly and long to get back to it. This is the reason of my not having acquired American citizenship till now, though I have been living in this country for the last 18 years. I enjoy my annual pilgrimages to India but the two months trips seem to be of so short a duration that I start planning for the next trip even before getting back home from India.