Some stories need to be retold. For it is not just a story. It sometime hides the last screams and sometimes, love not confessed. While some stories are different, they sing praises of heroes not from marvel. I was always a believer of written words and storytellers had little or no effect on me. But this once, i heard the pin drop. Eyes moistened and throats dried, hearts beat proudly. And the story ended, " Gentlemen, death is certain, more so in our profession but, it is we, who choose how we die. We already wrote a blank cheque in the name of our motherland up to and until death and signed it with blood. Here you will not earn much money, you won't be rich but respect is in abundance. Here you get a chance to live and die for a single cause. So be proud of it and do your duty religiously.
Good day cadets.
Jai hind".
It was just another day at the Officers Training Academy, chennai. But as few would know its never "just another day" in the Army. Officer cadets hastened to open their books and sat in 'sit up' position, back erect, looking forward, not even batting their eyelids as the officer entered to take classes for the day. The SUO (senior) smartly saluted the officer and gave the report. Then we sat relaxed taking great caution not to offend the DS(directing staff-officer) and invite some "prasad". But the day had something else in store for us. After a brief pause came, " do you want to listen to a story?"
We half acknowledged after a while thinking it might be a trap. We could see that the officer had moist eyes even before he began, later, as we understood, the story had cost him his dear friends. A story that ended in ashes.
Capt Abhimanyu walked around for a while, hands resting on his waist, stars glittering but his face displayed something else. He then started off in a deep husky voice.
We were course mates like you all. We had our ups and downs like you all in the academy and who would better understand that bonding than you. From getting Rogered together to carrying each other's rifle to complete the last lap and to those moments of wild enjoyment, we had it all, together. Little did i know then that, it would so happen. Gentleman, after being commissioned, we parted ways to join our respective regiments. Brimming with JOSH and pride, all set to serve our dear motherland. We were not much in touch afterwards, Maj Anoop, Capt Bisht and I. But 5 years later, fate brought us all together, this time twenty thousand feet higher.
Yes, we all got high altitude posting_the Siachin glacier , the highest battlefield in the world. The unforgiving Siachen Glacier is home to the most extreme climate and hostile terrain condition. Temperatures fall to 60 degrees temperature below zero, and sudden blizzards can bury field artillery in minutes. And consider this, at Siachen, rations come out of tin cans. An orange or an apple can freeze to the hardness of a cricket ball in no time. Here the enemy is not so much an entity holding rifles and guns, it is the nature, the isolation.
I stayed back at the base camp to complete my last phase of acclimatization to summit further while my mates made it to the top. To keep warm, there are no heaters except kerosene stoves with perforated ghee tins on top to make them red hot so they act as radiators. Bukharis consume too much oil and are unpredictably dangerous at these heights, hence, stoves. This fateful day, two officers and three jawans were warming themselves around a stove. No one cared enough to noticed the thin kerosene trail that went till the stored kerosene cans in the ever damp environment. They chatted. Stories traveled from the snow clad mountain tops to the desert and jungles in the northeast but as usual, almost a ritual in the Army, it ended with nostalgic images of home and family. Maj Anoop had just fathered a son, week before he made the climb while capt Bisht's memory of his martyred father and his ever grieving mother was as fresh as morning dew. Its an irony Gentleman, soldiers look tough but take a look deep inside and i bet,if. you aren't left with tears.
0600 hrs, 20,000ft, enemy at 100 mtrs,-45 degrees and it was a good morning for then to have lived a day. The day was as usual until....
Fire. Yes!
No one had any idea where and when it started. In time just when they realized, it had engulfed everything. Oil and fire. It couldn't be stopped. To exit through the door meant foolishness. The two officers exchanged glance, they knew what was to be done. Two of them picked the empty gas cylinder and started banging on the glass window which was meant to withstand bullets. Time was ticking as well as the temperature. For the first time in months they were this warm but this warmth would not be kind. Each one knew that not everyone was escaping death this time. By the time the window cracked capt Bisht has suffered enough burns. Fire was inside them now. Memories of loved ones and friends who owed promises to meet again played again and again. Maj Anoop and Capt Bisht lifted one of the jawan and threw him out of the window. As they lifted another who was lying unconscious by now, Capt Bisht saw the smile on Maj Anoop's face which he couldn't decode, as he himself smiled he remembered his training days. The chetwode credo, it said "First, the safety, honour and welfare of your country come first, always and every time Second, the honour, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next. Third, your own ease, comfort and safety come last, always and every time."
As the saying in the Army goes, "the more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war". In war-time when bullet flies by your ear and explosives are deafening, while your mate dies by your side and another has a blown off leg, your brain ceases to function, no ideas come to your mind. Then training kicks in and you keep calm and carry out orders as a programed robot. So it's the TRAINING.
By the time they lifted the third jawan, they couldn't feel anything. The soldier too had suffered 50 percent burns. The station went up in flames and with it the life of these two brave officers.
The sun was pale yellow. Somewhere along the ranges guns fired as if in salutation to these brave sons. But ironically it was either the Chinese or Pakistani intruders which would take some more lives while our countrymen would discuss demonitisation and flip through channels that reported the news of those soldiers.
Gentleman, if the officers so wanted to they could have made out first and be back to their families. But we lead by example even if we have to stare death in the eye and believe me you, when these men did so death blinked first.
The Army had lost one of its officers, the society its leader, the country a brave son but no one will be able to put in words ever what the families had lost. Maj Anoop's son will never see his father while Capt Bisht's mother will have another martyr in her house. All they would have to cherish is the uniform, the smiling faces of these heroes and probably the National Flag which would drape thier only son, father and husband. Can you still remain patriotic to the nation that costs the life of your husband and only son?
It was the next morning their families came to claim the remains, and probably have a last look. The mountain was silent, even the sun didn't rise. The medical office came to me completely shaken, "All that remains is two bones and i don't know which one belongs to whom". He broke down with that and i couldn't feel a thing as i looked at those faces waiting outside. They weren't crying, none of them were but what was going inside i probably will never know."
A long silence followed. Capt Abhimanyu kept staring out of the window as if his friends would return. We couldn't shake a finger. It felt as if we could hear an atom drop left alone the pin.
He then turned to us and continued with a forced smile on his face, "Gentleman this is the profession you are about to enter. This is just one story. And i believe if you are put to such a test, you will not back down."His hands had left his waist and they hung stiff as iron.Remember, Army is more a way of life than a mere profession and you as officers will live a life worth remembering "
A brief silence and he picked up his beret. Without another glance he went out.
The message was loud and clear.
As i told in the beginning it's never just another day in the army. We silently got ready for the next class, another day less ordinary.
Good day cadets.
Jai hind".
It was just another day at the Officers Training Academy, chennai. But as few would know its never "just another day" in the Army. Officer cadets hastened to open their books and sat in 'sit up' position, back erect, looking forward, not even batting their eyelids as the officer entered to take classes for the day. The SUO (senior) smartly saluted the officer and gave the report. Then we sat relaxed taking great caution not to offend the DS(directing staff-officer) and invite some "prasad". But the day had something else in store for us. After a brief pause came, " do you want to listen to a story?"
We half acknowledged after a while thinking it might be a trap. We could see that the officer had moist eyes even before he began, later, as we understood, the story had cost him his dear friends. A story that ended in ashes.
Capt Abhimanyu walked around for a while, hands resting on his waist, stars glittering but his face displayed something else. He then started off in a deep husky voice.
We were course mates like you all. We had our ups and downs like you all in the academy and who would better understand that bonding than you. From getting Rogered together to carrying each other's rifle to complete the last lap and to those moments of wild enjoyment, we had it all, together. Little did i know then that, it would so happen. Gentleman, after being commissioned, we parted ways to join our respective regiments. Brimming with JOSH and pride, all set to serve our dear motherland. We were not much in touch afterwards, Maj Anoop, Capt Bisht and I. But 5 years later, fate brought us all together, this time twenty thousand feet higher.
Yes, we all got high altitude posting_the Siachin glacier , the highest battlefield in the world. The unforgiving Siachen Glacier is home to the most extreme climate and hostile terrain condition. Temperatures fall to 60 degrees temperature below zero, and sudden blizzards can bury field artillery in minutes. And consider this, at Siachen, rations come out of tin cans. An orange or an apple can freeze to the hardness of a cricket ball in no time. Here the enemy is not so much an entity holding rifles and guns, it is the nature, the isolation.
I stayed back at the base camp to complete my last phase of acclimatization to summit further while my mates made it to the top. To keep warm, there are no heaters except kerosene stoves with perforated ghee tins on top to make them red hot so they act as radiators. Bukharis consume too much oil and are unpredictably dangerous at these heights, hence, stoves. This fateful day, two officers and three jawans were warming themselves around a stove. No one cared enough to noticed the thin kerosene trail that went till the stored kerosene cans in the ever damp environment. They chatted. Stories traveled from the snow clad mountain tops to the desert and jungles in the northeast but as usual, almost a ritual in the Army, it ended with nostalgic images of home and family. Maj Anoop had just fathered a son, week before he made the climb while capt Bisht's memory of his martyred father and his ever grieving mother was as fresh as morning dew. Its an irony Gentleman, soldiers look tough but take a look deep inside and i bet,if. you aren't left with tears.
0600 hrs, 20,000ft, enemy at 100 mtrs,-45 degrees and it was a good morning for then to have lived a day. The day was as usual until....
Fire. Yes!
No one had any idea where and when it started. In time just when they realized, it had engulfed everything. Oil and fire. It couldn't be stopped. To exit through the door meant foolishness. The two officers exchanged glance, they knew what was to be done. Two of them picked the empty gas cylinder and started banging on the glass window which was meant to withstand bullets. Time was ticking as well as the temperature. For the first time in months they were this warm but this warmth would not be kind. Each one knew that not everyone was escaping death this time. By the time the window cracked capt Bisht has suffered enough burns. Fire was inside them now. Memories of loved ones and friends who owed promises to meet again played again and again. Maj Anoop and Capt Bisht lifted one of the jawan and threw him out of the window. As they lifted another who was lying unconscious by now, Capt Bisht saw the smile on Maj Anoop's face which he couldn't decode, as he himself smiled he remembered his training days. The chetwode credo, it said "First, the safety, honour and welfare of your country come first, always and every time Second, the honour, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next. Third, your own ease, comfort and safety come last, always and every time."
As the saying in the Army goes, "the more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war". In war-time when bullet flies by your ear and explosives are deafening, while your mate dies by your side and another has a blown off leg, your brain ceases to function, no ideas come to your mind. Then training kicks in and you keep calm and carry out orders as a programed robot. So it's the TRAINING.
By the time they lifted the third jawan, they couldn't feel anything. The soldier too had suffered 50 percent burns. The station went up in flames and with it the life of these two brave officers.
The sun was pale yellow. Somewhere along the ranges guns fired as if in salutation to these brave sons. But ironically it was either the Chinese or Pakistani intruders which would take some more lives while our countrymen would discuss demonitisation and flip through channels that reported the news of those soldiers.
Gentleman, if the officers so wanted to they could have made out first and be back to their families. But we lead by example even if we have to stare death in the eye and believe me you, when these men did so death blinked first.
The Army had lost one of its officers, the society its leader, the country a brave son but no one will be able to put in words ever what the families had lost. Maj Anoop's son will never see his father while Capt Bisht's mother will have another martyr in her house. All they would have to cherish is the uniform, the smiling faces of these heroes and probably the National Flag which would drape thier only son, father and husband. Can you still remain patriotic to the nation that costs the life of your husband and only son?
It was the next morning their families came to claim the remains, and probably have a last look. The mountain was silent, even the sun didn't rise. The medical office came to me completely shaken, "All that remains is two bones and i don't know which one belongs to whom". He broke down with that and i couldn't feel a thing as i looked at those faces waiting outside. They weren't crying, none of them were but what was going inside i probably will never know."
A long silence followed. Capt Abhimanyu kept staring out of the window as if his friends would return. We couldn't shake a finger. It felt as if we could hear an atom drop left alone the pin.
He then turned to us and continued with a forced smile on his face, "Gentleman this is the profession you are about to enter. This is just one story. And i believe if you are put to such a test, you will not back down."His hands had left his waist and they hung stiff as iron.Remember, Army is more a way of life than a mere profession and you as officers will live a life worth remembering "
A brief silence and he picked up his beret. Without another glance he went out.
The message was loud and clear.
As i told in the beginning it's never just another day in the army. We silently got ready for the next class, another day less ordinary.
