OLIVE GREEN MEMOIRS – 4 .. PEHLA KADAM 1978
By Colonel Akhil Gupta, Retd
The rite of passage at Indian Military Academy, Dehradoon, though not a breeze, was fairly easy especially when you are a nobody. It appeared just stepping into NDA 7th term with lesser sleep time available during classes and soon enough the 8th term with its slew of exhausting camps came to a blissful end.
The solemn carnival of Passing Out Parade was soon over with the announcement of units and location, we were commissioned into, in Chetwode Hall. I was posted to Bhuj.
I had never heard of this place and much to my chagrin none of the staff could clarify. Some suggested, I may have misheard in the din and it could be Baroda. They had heard of an AD unit in Baroda. Nevertheless, the Railway timetable turned out to be my Google substitute.
I commenced my 48+ hours train journey from Barauni Bihar changing trains 3 times: 1st at Allahabad (Prayagraj), 2nd at Delhi and 3rd at Palanpur on the Rajasthan – Gujarat border.From Palanpur, with a longish stop over at GandhiDham, the train picked up a snail’s pace. I hardly slept on the last 6-hour journey with the arrival time scheduled for morning 0600h. Shaved, spit polished, dressed in OGs (olive greens) with Sam Browne belt and Peak cap, I waited with bated breath till the steam engine train huffed and puffed into Bhuj Railway Station. I smartly stepped out on the platform.
Travel to a new place especially when it’s the first time to pick up an assignment can be anxious ridden, full of apprehension and suspense. No amount of guidance can completely overcome this state. Adrenaline rush increases in anticipation of a new profile, a new place, new colleagues and new challenges; all add up to wonderful memories.
None of my peers or elders across my family had been in the profession of arms. I was proud to be the first one. I had left behind IIT Kanpur and TS Rajendra in favour of NDA and had consciously opted for this path. And, now with a spring in my first step, a star on my shoulder and dreams in my eyes, I was stepping out to navigate this uncharted territory. Little did I know, my hopes and dreams were in for a jolt. As a matter of fact, the initial few weeks turned out to be a disappointment.
In the early years of independence, Kutch – Bhuj was a forgotten state – capital town in our nation’s history. For the first 9 years, it was an independent state. Its existence was suddenly jolted into the minds of our political leaders when a severe earthquake hit in 1956. It was then merged into Bombay State and subsequently on its division into Gujarat and Maharashtra based on linguistic lines, it became a part of Gujarat state. It is also the largest district of India. In size Kerala is no match for it and even Haryana is smaller by a margin. The district – Kutch, gets its name from its shape that looks like an inverted tortoise (कछुवा).
Reception
Having apprised my unit, through a DO (Demi Official) letter, earlier of my good fortune of getting commissioned in the Regiment and arrival details, I had a reception party of 2 officers – senior subaltern and one more. My Identity card was taken and credentials questioned from every angle. However, it was the unit’s reply to my DO letter that I furnished, stumped them to acknowledge me as bonafide.
I wouldn’t have known how to react if they had persisted with their put-on act of proving me as an impostor.
The morning began with a welcome accompanied with an admonishment that this being early morning PT hours, I was inappropriately dressed.
I was given 5 mins to change. The waiting room did not need to be cleared off other passengers, in anticipation of this action, as the platform was empty as it is.
Thereafter, I was asked to show my running prowess to the unit lines. Fortunately, Bhuj being a sleepy laidback town, it didn’t appear awkward or embarrassing.
About 10 min later, with more than a km or two behind us, the theatrical stentorian charade was given up. I was offered a cup of tea and sandwiches and allowed to sit in the 1-ton Nissan vehicle alongside my baggage.
Initiation
The tough times were yet to start. The first 2 weeks were outright miserable physically.
Rising from rank Gunner मशालची (guy who lights up the fire torch) onwards to Langar NCO in-charge was no mean feat.
Nor was staying in a 112-pounder tent set up in front of single officer’s residence and going about your ablutions in camp conditions.
Carrying the L-70 Gun Barrel cleaning rod like a cane in the Gun Park was another challenge to bemastered to the satisfaction of the senior subaltern.
The daily night guard check run, time determined by the roll of dice, consisting of no less than 12-14 stops… थम (stop) – कौन है– Duty officer – password .. soon became a routine, eating into almost 2 hours of sleep time.
I was walking all day long… walking to the Battery Office, walking to the Gun Radar Park, walking to MT Park, walking to Battery jawan living lines, walking to the PT Ground, walking to the Officers Mess and walking to the residence (tent) – just walking all the time tasked with only to watch, listen and absorb. I was advised to keep shut unless spoken too and just observe.
All this walking gave NO me-time for basic needs of eat, sleep and rest. The situation improved, though only marginally, after I got my 1st vehicle – a new Atlas bicycle. This would be my conveyance for the next few years.
Some Dark Fun
There was more to it. Unfortunately for me, the unit had moved out of Delhi to this punishment location less than a year back. The unit bachelors, 7 of them, only saw a new bakra in me.
They had no other distraction. I was their new found puppet. They used the opportunity to its hilt. Well! it was their time. And, mine wasn’t far behind though it was in the shadows.
The usual past-time of the bachelors after drinks & dinner was to go for a swim and do a jolly-goodfellow swing to throw me in the swimming pool located within our Officers Mess premises. It’s here,
I made them believe my swimming prowess was less than satisfactory and in acts of partly drowning and fighting to catch my breath, I ducked down many a senior, often hooking into their swimming trunk and squishing onto their treasured heirlooms too… settling scores especially with those who were a bit tipsy or hesitant swimmer. Quietly, the tables were turned upon those who had made me a butt of their pranks.
All this while, the cynic in me felt that though their imagination to torment was vivid but implementation was vastly skewed in my favour.
Ours was the only combat arms unit in the station. Somewhere in the background there was a Military Hospital and an Ammunition Depot located in Bhuj Fort. Today, the station has expanded multifold. Our Officer’s Mess was located on the corner of the military area premises and boasted of a swimming pool and tennis grounds.
This was the erstwhile residence of British Resident Commissioner for Kutch. Row of old dilapidated, uninhabited ghost bungalows next to it continued deep into the unknown.
Somehow, we never went over that end. Today I wonder, why we never really explored in that direction. …. Bhuj Fort Wall
Khaki
Those days uniform for troops in deserts/ western front was Khakhi, akin to the Pakistani army dress. The camouflage dress had not come into vogue.
The unit baniya soon supplied the olive-green dress material and the unit tailor was commandeered into taking my measurements. I remember wearing my starched cotton Khaki dress till as late as 5 years later in 1983 during my LGSC in Devlali.
A pic inT-21 barracks, our bachelor’s living den with Haridas G and Rakesh N, shows me as the only one in Khakhi.
My First Salary
My first pay cheque came 3 months later. Ofcourse, of all 3 months together in one go.
Those were the days of post and telegraph. I had to first open a bank account and then send various filled forms duly attested, verified and countersigned by requisite hierarchy all the way from my unit in Bhuj to Controller of Defence Accounts (Officers) in Pune.
That was the fiefdom of civilian clerks and babus – it could be an unending wait if your stars were unfavourable. I was fortunate. ….Pay Slip Aug 78.
Pay Distribution
The nominated officer on duty for the day was unavailable due to some exigencies of service and hence, I was picked to replace him for pay collection from the bank at the last moment. I think the amount was a princely sum of 1.5+ odd lakh those days for the entire unit.
The guard detail of 4 soldiers with weapons and a steel box was ready to accompany but the vehicle was giving problems. The Adjutant sent me to the Quarter Master (QM) for allocation of another vehicle.
The QM was in no hurry and asked the clerk to get in touch with the concerned subunit for replacement. This was one of the days when availability of vehicles was becoming an issue and was likely to take time. The bank closing hours were approaching.
I decided to take matters in my hands. Called for my Battery’sDespatch Rider (Motor cycle on standby duty). Picked up my rugged army Pack-08, the baap of current back packs. Withdrew the requisite amount from the bank.
Deposited the money in the Unit Quarter Guard. And, marched off to the Officers Mess for a quick lunch to be in time for the pay distribution already set up for the evening.
All this while, I wasn’t aware that I had broken quite a few rules.
Much later, I came to know that the Adjutant’s plan to march me up to the Commanding Officer,was supposedly laughed off by the Tiger giving credits for improvisation. And, instead the QM was taken to task for not making a vehicle available in time.
As of now, auto crediting of all pay & allowances in every soldier’s bank account and has been in vogue for more than a decade.
The intervening period of 2 months prior to going on structured training on Air Defence Young Officers course at Devlali, was put to use through a fast-paced orientation on unit organogram, L70 Bofors Gun system, SFM Radars for detection and remote control of guns, P-15 radar for long range detection, mobile command posts, 30 KVA to 300 W Generators, ANPRC radios, telephones, manual exchanges, Battery charging stations and a variety of transport from motorcycle upwards to Jeep – 1 Ton – 3 Ton – Bowsers – 5 Ton towing vehicles. Frankly, it was all a blur and the only thing I carried with me was how to recognize them.
The best was going through the recorded Regimental History. However much it was half-hearted and little understood in gravity by me then, I felt elated on knowing the unit contributions in 1961 Liberation of Goa, 1962 support in Eastern sector, 1965 downing of F-86 Sabres, 1971 Battle of Basantar in support of tank formations and winners of Gallantry awards.
And, the icing was an absolute honour to be on the same Gun detachment whereVir Chakra decorated Hav AB Jesudas was my Detachment Commander.
Soon I was welcomed into the fold of the officers who would make the first 4 years of my service as most memorable. Each one of them continue to be friends forever. …..
