On the morning of 3 October Pritpal Singh rang up to say that Bijji Kaul was back at his deck, news which cheered me enormously but not enough to Want to leave my bed to go and meet him. I instructed Pritpal to call at the CGS’s office, or telephone him on my behalf, and pass him a message that I was ill and would be much obliged if he could drop in at my house on his way back from the office. However, I waited in vain all evening; late at night Pritpal rang up to say that the CGS had been closeted with Thapar most of the evening and had then gone on to see the Prime Minister (who had returned from abroad the day before).
I was up early next morning and felt considerably better. Knowing that Bijji was an early riser, I telephoned him at home. He asked me to go to his house immediately and he startled me by adding that I had better hurry because within the next few minutes he would be leaving for the airport ‘to take up a new assignment’.
Nehru, he said, had more or less ordered him to take command in NEFA ““ not that his own decision would have been any different.
Mind and body galvanised by turmoil, it took me less than ten minutes to shave, pull on shirt and trousers and drive to Bijji’s house in York Road. I found him in the little bedsitter den where he usually worked when at home. I was startled to see, sitting beside him on the divan, Prem Bhatia, editor of the Times of India, looking like the proverbial cat who has just swallowed a large yellow songbird. He got up as I arrived, wished Bijji good luck and left, still with a greatly pleased smirk on his face.
Before I could blurt out all my questions (and also my pent-up resentments of the past fortnight) Bijji got in the first word, with the information that he was leaving for Tezpur in law-an-hour to take command of a new corps, which he had decided to designate IV Corps (resurrecting the formation that had fought at Imphal in the war against the Japanese). I was as surprised as aghast at the news. What new corps? Why him? Who would do the CGS’s job when he left? When was all this decided? Would he not reconsider his decision?
The questions came tumbling out of my mouth after the first shock had passed, as Bijji moved about the room, hastily packing his grip or shouting instructions to Dhanno, his wife, who was obviously busy in the next room getting his travelling kit ready. ‘Put these in the staff car,’ Bijji said, handing me a briefcase and some odds and end. Very soon I had joined the domestic workforce, helping Bijji get organised for his journey into battle. A hurried cup of tea for me, a few last minute instructions to his wife and daughter that took the place of leave-taking – and we were soon being driven at a smart pace towards Palam airport.
Apart from a few officers handpicked “˜by the Military Secretary, there were those whom I recognised as belonging to Kauls “˜private squad of strong-arm men, whose personal loyalties were pledged to Bijji Kaul.
In the car he at last began to take notice of his erstwhile DMO. He explained that on his return to Delhi the day before he had gone to his office – even though’ still on leave – to be briefed on the Namka-chu incidents. In the evening Thapar had sent for him and told him about the impasse created by Umrao’s ‘stubborness’. The Chief then asked him whether he would accept command of a new corps to replace XXXIII Corps in NEFA. Thereafter, Thapar had sent him on to Menon and finally to Nehru. Nehru, he said, had more or less ordered him to take command in NEFA – not that his own decision would have been any different. So here, he was on his way to his new command.
Still puzzled by this unexpected and startling development, I expressed doubt about the so-called new corps he was to command. Where was it to come from? Was Umrao being sacked? If so, why wasn’t Bijji merely taking over XXXIII Corps with its established staff? Why send in a new corps on the eve of a campaign?
Under my cross-questioning Bijji confessed to the details and a clearer picture of the Menon-Thapar fake solution began to emerge. Bijji reluctantly admitted that he was, in fact, merely going to raise an ad hoc Corps HQ to command the NEFA sector. He had been told that Umrao had failed to deliver the goods but was not, for the time being, to be sacked; he would continue in command of XXXIII Corps, but would be responsible only for. Sikkim, Nagaland and the East Pakistan front, leaving Bijji to get on with operations in the Frontier Divisions of NEFA.
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I digested this for a moment and, incredulous, asked whether he felt justified in vacating the CGS’s chair just to go and ‘take command of a couple of brigades?’ Bijji was somewhat taken aback at this artless, though not inaccurate, description of his role. He replied, somewhat defensively, that he would soon be given more troops as other divisions would be sent to him and that eventually his corps would command the whole frontier from the Uttar Pradesh.
Himalayas to the Burma border. But yes, he agreed, for the time being his only scope for exercising command would be to supervise brigade battles in Kameng. It was a crucial responsibility, he added, given him by the Prime Minister himself. When’ I expressed my doubts about the feasibility of mounting an offensive in that terrain, Bijji assured me that, according to Thapar, both 7 Brigade and 4th Division had produced workable plans for the attack; it was only Umrao who (he had been told) was being obstructionist.
By this time I had become quite intrigued about this supposed divisional plan of attack that Sen and now Kaul had mentioned, but I refrained from making” a remark. I could see that Bijji was greatly pleased with himself and I could imagine why. He was going to war at last, and at the top level. Here was his chance to make up for the past, to fill in the blanks in his credentials and to give the lie to his detractors. There would be no holding him back.
I was amused to observe the motley collection of individuals gathered near the aircraft waiting to accompany Kaul as his corps staff. Apart from a few officers handpicked ‘by the Military Secretary, there were those whom I recognised as belonging to Kaul’s ‘private squad’ of strong-arm men, whose personal loyalties were pledged to Bijji Kaul. I was sad to see among them one of my own GSO-Is, who appeared to have been snatched from MO Directorate without a by-your-leave. (He did, I am glad to report, find his way back to MO Directorate after a brief sojourn at HQ IV Corps.)
I discovered next morning why Prem Bhatia had looked so pleased with himself when I had seen him: The Times of India carried its scoop on the front page. Bold headlines announced the creation of a ‘Special Task Force under General Kaul… to oust the Chinese’. I realised of course that Kaul was responsible for this glaring breach of security. The DMI was subsequently ordered to conduct an inquiry to trace the source of the leak. It was a farcical ritual; it must have been obvious who had informed the Times of India. Nevertheless, the DMI professed to be ‘totally stumped by the mystery’! The DMO was neither asked for nor volunteered evidence.
Overawed by what he saw of the terrain and the enemy, and sensitive to the helplessness and the vulnerability of our troops in Namka-chu valley, he still could not bring himself to recommend the slightest retraction from the governments belligerent stance.
After 4 October, though I was still being quarantined from high-level conferences both in the Ministry and at Army HQ, at least I was able to keep myself in touch with developments on 4th Division’s front because Bijji Kaul established the practice ‘of sending a stream of detailed, chatty reports – sometimes two or three long signal messages a day – addressed to Eastern Command but with a copy direct to Army HQ. For the purposes of maintaining records this was an improvement on the Bogey-Thapar Jogi regimen of undocumented messages and decisions. (With Kaul at the far end of the link, Bogey Sen found himself temporarily by-passed, his HQ reverting to its previous role of acting as a post-office.)
Kaul’s intrusion into the NEFA scene transformed the hitherto delusory reportage into a more realistic depiction of the operational picture. Not content to depend on secondhand information, the new Corps Commander flew up to Lumpu, on the very first day after his arrival and trekked to the Nanika-chu, the first general officer to have done so. Once there, he was able clearly to discern the tactical absurdity of the project and the almost total absence of logistics to support it, should it ever be undertaken. He issued a succession of top priority signals from the forward position which had a sobering, not to mention dismaying, effect in the army and the Ministry. He had it in his power then to defuse the whole situation and, perhaps, gradually to unravel the tensions of the deadly drama that was developing along the riverfront.
He had the ear of the Prime” Minister, and the reclame, to do these things – but he did not do them. Some inhibition in his personality would prevent him from offering any counsel that might be interpreted as fainthearted or non-combative. He would describe at length the futility of the situation, predict the dire consequences of continued confrontation and then, in a total non sequitur, make a rash personal commitment to warlike action. Overawed by what he saw of the terrain and the enemy, and sensitive to the helplessness and the vulnerability of our troops in Namka-chu valley, he still could not bring himself to recommend the slightest retraction from the government’s belligerent stance. According to my Summary:
In his first signal sent on 5 October, the Corps Commander reported that there were a number of logistical difficulties along the administrative pipe-line, which had received his prior attention. In the Tsedong area, he was planning to send forwatdl/9 GR, which was still held up at Lumpu. Apprehending that the concentration of our forces in the Tsedong area had laid bare the defences of Towang, he was taking steps to ensure that a minimum of two battalions, with increase’s supporting arms, would be kept in that area. As for D Day, he stated that he would give his appreciation on 6 October, though he felt that D “Day would be before 10 October.On the next day, when the Corps Commander had had an opportunity of reconnoitering the terrain, he was able to make. a more detailed assessment of the task. He felt that the enemy strength facing him was a battalion in the forward positions, backed by a brigade in the Thag-la ridge, supported by artillery, heavy mortars, machine guns and recoilless guns. The enemy infantry were armed with automatic rifles.
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In spite of this, the Corps Commander undertook the acceleration of the process of forward concentration and was still confident of commencing the eviction operation by 10 October. He, however, pointed out the possibility of the enemy overwhelming our own force, ‘which would lead to a national disaster’. He therefore recommended that offensive air support be planned and made available, if necessary, at shortest notice.
At the same time, GOC IV Corps pointed out the tremendous difficulties being experienced in the collection of air dropped arms, ammunition and equipment at Tsangdhar where 70 per cent of the loads were being lost on the mountain’ slopes…
By 7 October, the Corps Commander had completed his reconnaissance along the length of the Namka-chu positions. He reported that the Chinese were in the process of deploying their second battalion forward, thus confronting 7 Brigade with an equally matched force in superior defensive positions. He again pointed out the extremely unfavourable logistical situation. The forward battalions had only 50 rounds of ammunition per mant some still in summer clothing (at heights of 16,000 feet); and there was an acute shortage of porters. He also pointed out that he had no reserves to meet a possible -Chinese counter-attack.
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