7 DAYS IN MAR

‘Rat Revolution’ in Lushai Hills - 1966

‘Mi-Zo-Ram’, now a ‘land of the happy hill people’ became an independent state of the union only in 1987, 40 yrs after Indian independence. It is an exotic locale in the north eastern corner of India, with 90.7% dense forest cover, lots of bamboo, just 52 odd persons per sq km, almost equal man to woman ratio and 97% literacy, all of them reasons why Mizoram is such a happy place.  

But that was not how it was in 1840 when Capt Blackwood, a cavalier pirate of sorts, led the 14^th NLI Regiment of East India Company through the thick bamboo forest to go after the Kukis (Thahdos), Lusei and others, who were all hell bent on head hunting and eating themselves ‘Su-Shi’, in the raw, and displaying the leering heads of the dead men on a stake outside their cottage.

To give them due credit, the natives of erstwhile Lushai Hills were a persistent war like people and tested the patience of Queen Victoria till she annexed them in 1895 and made them her subjects and predicates, in Wren & Martin, the constitution of ‘Eng-Land’. Reason why they had bit of an attitude in 1947 and wanted to become ‘Lushai-Land’ like ‘Eng-Land’, and not be a part of Indian Union. Their attitude upset quite a few, including Sardar Patel, who wisely left the state of affairs and governance to 259 tribal chiefs, to continue head hunting and eating each other sushi, to keep the Lusei very happy in ‘Hinglish’ Wren & Martin under the ‘Tiranga’, and make them forget their aspiration of an independent ‘Lushai Land’.

After Indian independence, the entire ‘North East’ territory ahead of Siliguri continued to be one single province ‘Assam’, ruled by Congress Chief Ministers (CMs)  Gopinath Bordoloi (1946-50), Bishnu Ram Medhi (1950-57) and then, for thirteen tumultuous years by a Rasputin, Bimala Prasad  Chaliha (1957-70). Elected thrice as CM, Chaliha faced two national emergencies; the Sino-Indian conflict and the Mizo revolution/civil war.  The former had nothing to with him. But the latter was perhaps triggered by his politically savvy, but demographically catastrophic, draconian ‘ Official Language Act 1960’ which hoped to unify the entire North East, compelling all diverse ethnic groups to learn and speak in Assamese. Chaliha, with king size ambition, proactively resisted the popular demand to divide the mammoth, ethnically diverse, geographically difficult to  administer Assam state, into smaller states (with common ethnic and linguistic identity, as it is now), though he was put in charge of various Committees of central Govt of India (GoI) which contemplated such division. Only after his death in 1971 could GoI make any headway to break down the mammoth Assam province. But let me not jump the gun.

During Medhi’s innings as CM in 1954,  an attempt at ethnic cleansing was made by the 259 venerable Mizo chieftains, mainly to make the Christian Lusei and Budhist Chakamas into edible sushi delicacy; head hunting was after all a  favourite ‘time pas’ in that part of the world. The European Presbyterian Missionaries were the first to start crying. Their cry was picked up and repeated very volubly by international press, the Queen of England, President of America, and even the Pope. GoI, Nehru in particular, was heartbroken.

Medhi came under severe pressure to act. As all CM’s do under emergency, usually under ‘Air To Civil Power Act’, Medhi immediately called for Army intervention. But Maharaj Rajendrasinhji  Jadeja, then Commander-in-Chief (C-in-C) of Indian Army, declined saying he had inadequate resources and that it was a political problem which Medhi must handle himself on political and administrative level. So VK Singh was not the first Army Chief to say ‘Bugger Off’, when asked to go and murder fellow Maoist citizens whom the politicians and bureaucrats could not handle within the political machinations of our strange democratic system.

Medhi then turned to the very spirited and dynamic Jairam Das Daulatram,  Governor of Assam, and Kailash Nath Katju, the Union Home Minister under Nehru. They helped by moving two Regiments (Rgts) of Assam Rifles, para military under Home Ministry, from Shibsagar and Shillong into Lushai Hill Tract, to assist in maintaining law and order by giving everyone in Lushai Hills the ‘Bum-Boo’ !

Medhi made the 259 tribal chieftains redundant and turned to the Deputy Commissioner Lushai Hills, S.N.Barkataki from Assam Civil Service Cadre, and the newly enacted ‘Lushai Hills Act’ to handle administration through elected ‘Autonomous Village Councils’. For a while Mizoram once again became a happy place eating food cooked with ‘Bhut Jolokia’ chillies and not sushi or ‘Tipsy pudding’ with Chakamas’ gonads. Then in 1958, with clockwork precision, the forests in Mizoram went wild with ‘Mautam’.

 Mautam, a cyclic ecological phenomenon, occurs precisely every 48 years when the strange bamboo (Melocanna Baccifera) in the jungles of Luhai Hills and neighbourhood, flowers all at the same time. Strangely, this massive flowering of the bamboo incites the pheromone and testosterone levels in jungle rats to multiply so rapidly that there is not enough for them to eat in the jungle. They then run out of the jungle like locust and spread-out all over Lushai Hills to forage food grains, creating famine and plague amongst the Homos, Sapiens, LGBTs as well as those who look and act like Neanderthals in Lushai Hill Tract.

In the Mautam of 1958, the rats perhaps fornicated with more zest because the famine and plague were most severe. The then Governor of Assam, Chandreswar Prasad Sinha, along with Chaliha in tow, moved Assam Rifle and some local armed constabulary, at platoon level, into the far reaches of the jungles, to set up posts with air dropping zones, create a civil-supply-chain for distribution of essential commodities, maintain law and order, and feed the hungry and unhappy people of Lushai Hill Tract. He also got the central Govt to send in the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) to create a north to south motor-able road from Silchar to Lunglai, no mean task due to the severity of the jungles and mountains. The road was expected to not only improve communications, but also substantially increase the quantity of supplies that could be sent to Lushai Hills because Silchar was connected to Guhati by rail.

Mr Shankaran Nair, then Dir IB in Delhi (later Sec RAW before he resigned during Morarji’s time as PM), in a secretive operation, recruited and inducted an army of Malyalees, as ‘Political  Officers’ who had a covert role as ‘Special Intelligence Bureau (SIB)’ operatives all over the North East. They were meant to keep their finger on the pulse of the local people, transmit daily intelligence reports for IB HQ in Delhi. Their overt inconspicuous role was supply chain management of air dropped stores and assistants to civil administration!!! Local people were first taught social adjustment trades (carpentry, masonry, electrical applications, or simply as labourers for road construction and as porters for the public logistic distribution system). They were then paid in Indian currency. The currency was used to buy the goods that was air dropped.  It was a cyclic process, a successful non-profit business run by GoI !!!

First into the foray to meet the challenges of air dropping supplies to the beleaguered Mizos was Biju Patnaik and his private airline Kalinga Airways, operating from Guhati and Kumbigram (Silchar), also handling the to-ing and fro-ing of VIPs, para medics, political and administrative teams, all from a small wartime ‘advanced landing ground (ALG)’, (now the Lengpui Airport, 32 km from Aizwal (old Aijal). IAF soon joined in. General Satyawant Mallanna Shrinagesh, ex Chief Of Army Staff (CoAS), who succeeded Sinha as Governor, increased the quantum of solace and the Mautam crisis was more or less brought under control by 1960.

As it happens in every calamity, the locals rose to the occasion too, by forming the ‘Mizo National Famine Front (MNFF)’. The MNFF was a large work force of pioneers, basically to lend a hand with the grass root distribution of the logistic aid that was being air dropped at the dropping zones at Aijal, Champai and Lungle. MNFF was to carry it in small head loads to inaccessible far flung habitats, all over the jungle, …….one hell of a job.

And the man who quickly rose up the chain of command in MNFF was the charismatic, dynamic, 33 year old, demobilised ex Havildar Pu Laldenga, born an Assamese with Mizo ancestry and family ties. His greatest achievement was to integrate the diverse tribes of Lushai Hill Tracts into a single group called Mizos and give an identity to the Lushai Hill Tract as ‘Mizoram’. He was gleefully preferred as a stooge and promoted to the forefront by the state, as well as the local civil administration, due to his military background as well disciplined efficiency and ability to motivate his illiterate and backward people.

As Hav Laldenga’s popularity grew amongst the tribes of the new ‘Mizoram’ across the board, his pockets began to bulge. He began to develop megalomania and king sized ambition, especially when inadvertently supported and abetted by the army’s Eastern Command, as well as  the civil administration run by an ex CoAS in Guwahati. The Indian army, civil administration and the IB created the over ambitious political Frankenstein from one amongst their own cadre.

As it often happens, political mavericks create secessionist movements only when supported by rouge external nation state(s) with motives, money, cross border shelter, arms and training. Hav Laldenga became the darling of then East Pakistan, keen to support dissidents and break away groups in India. Under Paki tutelage in Oct 1961, Laldenga (along with JF Manliana, R Vanlawma, and Rochhinga, comrades from MNFF), dropped ‘Famine’ from the apolitical MNFF and converted it to a right wing fascist ‘Mizo National Front (MNF)’ with explicit secessionist intensions, to go back to the ambitions of creating a kingdom called Mizoram, the same ‘Lushai-Land’ like ‘Eng-Land’, with Hav Laldenga as King (much like Idi Amin in Uganda).

India at that time got embroiled with the Sino Indian war (1962) and lost focus of the MNF and the Mizoram. The Malyalee political officers from SIB, most of them young frustrated bachelor Catholic Christians, were using the expat missionaries as conduits for creating ‘zenanas’ with the prettiest girls in the neighbourhood. Their finger instead of being on the political pulse as Shankaran Nair intended, was elsewhere.  They became ‘sleepers’ on the job. Laldenga was left alone to ferment separatist ideology, piggy backing on the public dissent created by introduction of Assamese as compulsory official language, part of the ping pong policies introduced by CM Chaliha, with full support from ex CoAS Srinagesh and Vishnu Sahai, an ex-ICS Cabinet Secretary, who alternated with ex CoAS Srinagesh every few years as imperious Governors of Assam between 1959-68. GoI had no clue about the political trouble that was brewing in the new found Mizoram despite the bevy of ‘political officers’ of SIB present there.

Laldenga and his minions in MNF went on a recruiting drive to create a private army of mercenaries using demobilised or retired ex-military cadres to form the supervisory chain of command with younger able bodied men as jawans. 2 AR, which had just been disbanded for mutiny, joined Hav Laldenga to the last man. This private army of the MNF was then named Mizo National Army (MNA). After recruitment, the MNA cadre were secretly ferreted out to clandestine training camps in East Pakistan, where they were split, armed and trained to form two infantry Brigades (Bdes), each with four battalions (Bns), much like the Indian army.

The ‘Lion Bde’, with Bns named after Mizo legends (Chawngbawla, Khuangchera, Saizahawla and Taitesena Bns) were given operational responsibility of the northern half of Miizoram. The Dagger Bde (with Joshua, Lalvunga, Vanapa and Zampui Manga Bns) operated in the southern part. By the end of 1965, the MNF had armed themselves with basic infantry weapons; 303 rifles, 9mm Stens, AK-47, LMGs, RPGs, mostly supplied by Pakis, and others stolen from Assam Rifles. They also obtained explosives by raiding the posts of Border Roads Organisation engaged in building the north to south road in the inaccessible parts of Mizoram. Money came from raiding banks in Assam, as also counterfeit notes printed in Pakistan. The Pakis taught MNA how to make improvised explosive devices (IEDs) to booby trap jungle trails, to mine roads and to blow up installations.

To support the operational logistics of the two Bdes in inaccessible terrain, Laldenga called upon his old army of pioneers and irregulars of MNFF and formed them into Mizo National Volunteers (MNV) under command of MNF. By mid-1965 the stage was set for ‘rat revolution’ and civil war in Lushai Hill Tract, now referred to as Mizoram. Happy Lusei were then turned to very unhappy and angry Mizos.

As it happens in insurgency and civil war in remote areas, the MNA too had to feed off the land, depend on the villages for their sustenance (new recruits, money, food, shelter, wine, women and song). Atrocities began initially as pillage, abduction and rape. To cover that up, Laldenga called for ethnic cleansing, targeting the non-Christian minorities (Chakma, Mara, Lai, Tripuri, Hmar, Paite,…….etc). Mizoram went on the boil.

Code named ‘Operation Jericho’, Hav Laldenga’s plan was simple. He hoped the two Bdes of MNA attacking form north and south would quickly capture the treasuries, neutralise the posts manned by Assam Rifles / other local police / militia, takeover police stations and jails, capture armouries, arrest important non-Mizo (‘Vai’) officials and hoist the MNF flag at Aijal on 1 Mar, followed by a victory parade on 2 Mar 1966. He hoped that many from the civil administration would turn sympathisers and make the takeover easy. Hav Laldenga also hoped that if he could keep the MNF flag flying in Aijal for 48 hours, other countries such as Pakis would recognise the Mizo territory as a sovereign state, plead their case in UN, perhaps even invite UN peace keeping forces in the new found ‘Kingdom of Mizoram’.

The AR posts did get some indication that something was amiss when during the night of 27 Feb, Rokima, the brother of the MNF Lieutenant Lalnunmawia was killed in an accidental explosion of an IED, investigated by AR on 28^th morning. However, AR could neither connect the IED blast with an impending attack, or the ferocity with which it would come the same night.

28 Feb 1966.

There was no Indian Army tentacle in Mizoram on 28 Feb 1966. The closest, 61 (then an Inf Bde), was located at Silchar. Its forces, 4 understaffed Bns, were strung about on posts all over Nagaland and Manipur tackling other insurgencies. Since Mizoram had been comparatively peaceful, the only defensive forces there were para military; one battalion of No 1 AR, besides unarmed Border Roads Organisation (BRO) road construction parties, tentacles of unarmed / armed local armed constabulary, all of them in defensive garrisons at Kolasib, Aijal, Champai and Lunglai, besides platoon sized in-depth posts elsewhere deeper in the jungle where there were DZs.

On the night of 28 Feb/1 Mar 1966, both Bdes of MNA launched a series of simultaneous well planned attacks on the AR posts at Kolasib, Aijal,  Lungle  and Champai; as well as the constabularies at Demagiri, Chawngte, Hnahlan,  Marpara,  Tuipang,  Tuipuibari,  Vaphai  and Vaseitlang. The Border Security Force (BSF) in embryonic state was just being raised and was not involved in Mizoram, not then. There is no record of employment of CRPF at this stage.

The MNF attack at Lungle began at about 2230 hrs on 28 Feb 66, at the sub-treasury office situated within the defended perimeter of 1 AR post.  500–800 strong MNA attacked the stockade and were soon repulsed leaving two AR personnel and six of MNA dead. Three AR personnel were wounded. The AR camp was then surrounded and the siege lasted three days.

On 1 Mar morning one Mi-4 from 110 Helicopter Unit which tried to attend to 1 AR call for causality evacuation was shot at and had to return empty handed, without landing. No further attempts were made by helicopters to rescue the wounded.

The siege continued with intensive rifle and LMG fire from both sides. 1 AR began to run out of ammo and drinking water, while the MNA seemed to have no such difficulties.

An AF Dak from Kumbigram made a valiant attempt to air drop ammunition and water. It too came under fire and had to abort. On 5 March, the insurgents kidnapped RV Pillai, the Sub-divisional Officer (from SIB). At night on 6 Mar when they ran out of drinking water and ammunition, Lungle post surrendered along with the lightly held garrison of the BRO. By 0700 hrs on 7 Mar, MNF flag was flying over Lungle and the treasury as well as the armoury were in MNA’s hands.

Lungle was a diversion. The main objective of the MNA was Aijal. As sun set on 28^th Feb, MNA elements started to infiltrate the township and completely surrounded it by around 2230 hrs. MNA then setup road blocks to prevent vehicular traffic. They began a combing operation looking for important members of the civil administration.  TS Gill, the Deputy Commissioner (DC) at Aijal, an ex-Army officer from the Indian Frontier Administrative Service (IFAS), took shelter in the heavily defended AR garrison. On his way he managed to get hold of L/Nk Shivashankaran Nair and his HF radio set from the BRO post.

1 Mar 66

At around 0200 hrs on 1 Mar, MNA elements attacked the telephone exchange at Aijal and took control, cutting all telephone links to the outside world. An hour later, around 150 MNA combatants, led by Nk Sub Lalnundawta (ex 2 AR, by now a self-styled Colonel), attacked the District Treasury and took control of not only treasure, but the entire armoury. Within the next few hours, the MNA was in control of all the administrative nerve centres, entirely paralysing the civil administration. They also seized all the vehicles in the town. MNA attacked the Aijal AR garrison repeatedly but could not penetrate the outer ring of ‘punjis’ (sharp wooden stakes) and ditches with intensive well sited fire from AR. By daybreak on 1 Mar, Aijal was completely under the control of the MNA and the AR garrison was surrounded and quarantined.

L/Nk Nair opened communication with 61 Bde in Silchar and civil administration at Shillong, Gauhati and Calcutta by 0400 hrs on 1 Mar. TS Gill started dictating situation reports every half an hour with Nair tapping the Morse code key.  This BRO radio link remained the only means of communication with Lushai Hill Tract in the subsequent days. The bad news was conveyed to the PMO, but blacked out from the press.

The records of a fact finding mission, from Govt of Assam, consisting of an all-party group sent to Mizoram three months later states, ‘At about 0130 hrs on 1 Mar, about 150 MNA surrounded the sub-divisional officer of the Public Works Department at Phainuam (near Vairengte) and asked him to get out of the district. They also took over the departmental stores, arms and ammunition of the policemen and all available vehicles. After the civil administration and local police ran off into the jungles, the MNA retreated to Kolasib. Similar incidents were reported from Coinlang and Chawngte. At the same time MNA captured the AR post at Champhai, with help from their sympathisers inside the AR post.

At Kolasib, the MNA took around 250 civil officials, the policemen and BRO road construction pioneers as captives, and kept them without food and water for two days. The women and children were also taken as captives and kept separately in a small building. However, none of the civilian officials and government servants was harmed. The MNF perhaps expected their support in running the administration of the proposed new sovereign state’.

In a brilliant lightening surgical strike, Hav Laldenga had liberated Lushai Hill Tract, and proclaimed independence of Mizoram. Well almost. All that remained as a thorn in his ass was the vigilant and valiant besieged post of 1 AR at Aijal which refused to surrender. It was just a matter of time, before they too ran out of water and ammunition and surrendered.

At 1100 hrs on 1 Mar, Hav Laldenga ceremoniously proclaimed independence, and exhorted all the Mizos to join the revolt against the ‘illegal Indian occupation’ of ‘Mizoram’, land of the Mizo people. Due to sniper fire from the AR post, he had to cancel the victory parade. The declaration of independence was a public relations fiasco since there were only the MNF cadre present along with a few press reporters whom Laldenga had invited. They could not get the news out since all telephone lines had been cut by the MNA. However, jeeps with loud speakers were sent around Aijal to convey the declaration of independence amongst the local population. It panicked them.

 

2 Mar 66

On 2 Mar, MNA ambushed an offensive patrol of the 1st AR just as they set forth from the garrison and inflicted heavy casualties on them. Around 1100 hrs MNA captured Aijal jail and all prisoners were set free. This led to further looting and arson of Aijal bazar, though the bazar was closed. Because of AR's refusal to surrender, the planned victory parade by MNF on 2^nd Mar was postponed to 10^th Mar. Fearing oppression and retribution, the civil population of Aijal began running away into the jungles. 

All of 2^nd and 3^rd Mar loudspeakers were used to broadcast continuous propaganda asking the Aijal garrison to surrender.  However the garrison stood fast and repulsed the MNA sallies to overrun the post.

By now the national press as well as international press had got the wind of the revolution in Lushai Hills. Canards began to fly. Chaliha, the CM in Gauhati, was livid with rage. He went ballistic with his rhetoric. Vishnu Sahay the Governor was equally emotive and joined Chaliha in blaming everyone else other than himself or Chaliha, especially for releasing Laldenga from jail without interrogation of any sort when he was caught returning from East Pak, the previous year. Indira Gandhi, a political novice had been PM for just 35 days with Gulzari Lal Nanda as her Home Minister. There were political and policy paralysis in Delhi, as well as Guhati.

Though overwhelmed by the turn of events, perhaps because of the quick intervention of Shankaran Nair from IB, GoI immediately grasped the delirious situation and promptly passed the buck back to Sahay and Chaliha to deal with it as they deemed fit, to take immediate and appropriate actions. On 2 March 1966, the Government of Assam invoked the ‘Assam Disturbed Areas Act (1955)’ and ‘Armed Forces Special Powers Act (ASPA-1958)’, handing over the ball to Lt Gen Sam Manekshaw, then GOC-in-C Eastern Command at Calcutta, to intervene and sort out Hav Laldenga and his revolution.

When interrogated by the press, Sam made a candid admission that the ‘Army has been caught with its pants down. We have lost complete control in Lushai Hills and would now have to go and use maximum force to capture it back’ !

3^rd Mar 66

On 3^rd Mar, the MNA led by self-styled Brig (ex Hav of 2 AR) Hruaia plundered the Public Works Department office in Aijal, looting and destroying the entire records of Lushai Hill Tract ‘Sawrkar’ (Government) Office. The violence and strife continued unabated.

A quick tactical appreciation by Sam, in consultation with Brig (later Lt Gen) Jaswant Singh, then Commander 61 Inf Bde then in Silchar, convinced Sam that the battle was lost even before it began. Jaswant estimated that, to go find transport to recall even a few from the 4 Inf Bns under his command hamstrung all over the then vast north east Assam, traverse the impregnable jungles using the only road defended by the enemy (Lion Bde of MNA), fight through the road blocks and ambushes to go and relieve the beleaguered 1 AR garrison in Aijal, 61 Bde would take not less than a month. Time was of essence, since 1 AR garrison, the only forces opposing Laldenga’s rat revolution, was likely to be overrun in a matter of few days. If Laldenga did his victory march in Aijal, Lushai Hills would be lost for ever.

Without hesitation Sam dialled Gen JN Chaudhuri, then CoAS, and did a corner kick to put the ball into the apex court in Army HQ. JNC called for a meeting of the Joint Chiefs Of Staff and asked the Chief of Air Staff (CAS), Air Chief Mshl  (now Mshl of IAF) Arjan Singh to use ‘Air Power’ to bailout Lushai Hills.

Heli lifting of troops using Mi-4s was the obvious answer. But in earlier attempts Mi-4s (as also Daks and Caribous) had been thwarted by intense ground fire from MNA. Some ground sanitation was called for. Army had no artillery in that area. Flying armed WW-II propeller driven Havards from flying training academy at Jodhpur to Silachar, to do escort duty as well as ground attack was considered by Op Branch at Air HQ. But this was found to be time consuming to get them operational at Silchar. Since there was hardly any choice available to IAF, the only pragmatic solution that Arjan Singh found was use of Hunters and Toofani jet fighter aircraft locally available in Assam. The CAS immediately ordered 29 Sqn (Toofanis) to move to Kumbigram and 17  Sqn (Hunters) to move to Jorhat. They were ready for combat missions at both bases by the morning of 5 Mar 66. Perhaps the lessons from 1962 war helped make this quick decision by Arjan and equally quick reactions by the fighter Sqns. The IAF had no choice but to use a sledge hammer to kill a fly.

In the meanwhile, Sam ordered 61 Inf Bde Cdr, Jawant Singh, to move forward to Vairengte along with 8 Sikh and 2 Para less a Company to make contact with forward elements of Lion Bde at  Chimlang on the northern extreme of Mizoram. Another two Bns (2/11 GR and 3 Bihar) were asked to thin the boots on ground at their posts and rush to Vairengte and beyond as soon as possible in support of the  meagre force that was led by Jaswant. Since it was then an Inf Bde, it had no artillery worth mention..

Brig R Z Kabraji commanding 311 Inf Bde at Tallimora (near Agartala) was ordered by Sam to thin the troops on Paki border and send part of his forces as reserves for 61 Bde. They were able to move only by 7^th Mar, and were hence sent back half way, after MNA was neutralised by the AF and Aijal recaptured. 

By nightfall on 3^rd, 61 Bde was on the move southwards from Silchar towards the traps laid by the Lion Bde of MNA, with mine fields, road blocks and ambushes. A fate worse than Namka Chu (Dalvi’s 7 Bde in 62 war) awaited them. Unless ‘Airpower’ was brought to bear in Lushai Hills, the war with MNA was lost.  Unlike 1962, the IAF did not hesitate; like a Cobra, they uncoiled and struck.

4^th  Mar 66

At around 0900 hrs on 4^th Mar, waves of suicide squads comprising MNV and MNA made a well-coordinated massed attack on the Aijal garrison. They lost 13 men with more than 150 wounded with no loss of life in the AR garrison, other than 9 wounded. The AR garrison was completely out of ammunition and drinking water.

Two Mi-4s of 110 HU from Kumbigram sent with ammunition boxes, medicine chests and water in jerry cans could not land to discharge stores or pick up causalities due to heavy ground fire from MNA. One single pass high level air drop attempted by a Caribou fell outside the garrison, into the waiting hands of MNA. It completely demoralised the AR garrison and they began preparations for surrender.

The MNA had taken over and consolidated all over Lushai Hill Tracts. Aijal garrison was on the verge of collapsing, but held on perhaps due to the charisma, leadership and encouragement of the DC, TS Gill present in the garrison. He had first been a soldier, and bureaucrat only afterwards.

5 Mar 66

On 5^th afternoon, an attempt was once again made to land Mi-4s at Aijal with Toofani fighter escort, as well as a similar exercise by Caribou to airdrop with escort. But both attempts failed simply because of the vast difference in the speed of the fighter jets. They had difficulty in locating Aijal and could not arrive over the target at the precise moment when the Mi-4 or Caribou arrived there. Due to intense and accurate LMG fire from MNA, both the Mi-4 and Caribou turned back once again with many bullet holes. Though all these attempts by the Air Force raised the morale of the AR garrison, the time had come for direct action by the fighter jets. The trouble was that due to their high speed, they could neither locate the MNA, nor distinguish friends from foe !!

Toofanis operating from Kumbhirgram, and Hunters from Jorhat were used over Champai, Darangoan, Vaphai and Demagiri. The posts were asked to generate yellow smoke to identify them from the air.  These operations were meant to keep the MNA at bay and to ease the pressure on the surrounded posts till they could be reinforced by flying in troops by helicopter. Aijal was the main target and the AF fighter aircraft went into this battle with whole hearted zest and enthusiasm.

6 Mar 66

‘17 Sqn (Hunters) was based at Jorhat and we carried out strikes at Aijal on 6th Mar 1966. We asked the GLO to inform the AR garrison at Aijal to paint markers to indicate targets’, recalls Fg Offr (later Air Mshl) Tester Master who flew missions in a Hunter.

‘The GLO at Jorhat briefed us that an army unit was surrounded at a high ground by rebels in the middle of Aijal town. We were briefed that air support/supply by helicopter and Dakota aircraft had been met by small arms fire from the rebels.  The AR garrison was in danger of suffering casualties and needed close air support.

The AR Garrison were housed in barracks with thatched roofs, with a clear area around them the size of a football field. It was decided to use rockets and front guns to attack the rebels and provide relief to the surrounded troops (we did not use bombs).  The AR was asked to put markings on the ground to indicate the target (location of MNA concentrations). The markings comprised an arrow to show the direction of the target and strips laid diagonally below the arrow to indicate distance. If I remember right, the baseline was 1000 yds and each strip was plus 100 or 200 yds. So if there were two strips below the arrow the target was 1200 or 1400 yds in that direction.

 

I did two Hi-Lo-Hi strikes on 6th March with rockets and front guns (Hunter Mk 56 252 1:15 and 331 1:20 minutes).  We carried out rocket attacks first, followed by strafing of the designated area.  In both sorties, our targets were thatched ‘bashas’, which in our cine films were seen to be hit by my wingman and myself.  After the attacks, we reconnoitred the main highway leading to Aijal to interdict vehicular movement, but found no such targets.

Viju Joshi, Harry Hardas, then Sqn Ldr MS Bawa were some of the others from 17 Sqn who flew ground attack missions.  That month's log book was signed by Sqn Ldr PP Singh as Flt Cdr and Wg Cdr AS Mohan as CO.  Our EO was Flt Lt Nagpal.  The Stn Cdr was Gp Capt Kirloskar.  We received messages that our missions were successful and helped relieve the siege of the army units. 

The sound and fury of jet fighter aircraft orbiting overhead at low level are by themselves frightening enough to those who have never experienced it. And when these aircraft attack with rockets or guns, there is none who is not psychologically scarred. There were no buildings near the AR garrison, just a village of thatched huts housing and a small market that had grown around the post, which the MNA were using to hide and enfilade the AR garrison. The civil population had fled into the jungles during the previous three days. And because bombs were not used, the air attacks killed or injured only a few (14 MNA / MNV killed). The fear psychosis of the unexpected air attack, and the fire that engulfed the village (because the village was made of dry bamboo and thatch, both incendiary), these were adequate to completely shatter the morale and discipline of the MNA / MNV and MNF and disperse them helter-skelter. By the time the air attacks  were called off on the evening of 6 Mar, there were hardly any one present in Aijal, neither civil population, nor the MNF/MNA/MNV. They all ran away. The civil war was immediately deflated.

7 Mar 66

Because of the air strikes, 8 Sikhs and 2 Para had an easier passage to quickly reach Aijal. However, they did have to overcome blown bridges, mine fields, and ambushes with sporadic small arms fire from MNA stragglers. In an exceptionally zestful insertion, 2 Para entered Aijal and relieved 1 AR by the afternoon of 7 Mar. The Mi-4 helicopters then brought in water, food, para-medics and civil administration. On return, they evacuated the causalities and injured to the base hospital in Silchar. 

TS Gill moved back to his headquarters and immediately started a disaster management program with vigour. Chaliha continued to spew venomous self-seeking verbiage to the press to gain brownie points, but did not have the courage to visit Aijal, not then. Governor Vishnu Sahay, an old hand from ‘Babudom’, the civil service, kept his mouth shut and left Chaliha on a loose rein. Indira and Gul Nanda became entangled in their own battle for political survival in Delhi because of the overwhelming threat form Moraji Desai, the piss man. Lushai Hill Tract now became the baby of the Army, not only to maintain law and order, but to also administer, win hearts and minds to make the Mizos happy once again.

Continuing their incredible momentum, Lt Col Mathew Thomas commanding 2 Para moved on southwards and relieved Lunglai on 13 Mar. The MNF/MNA/MNV with Hav Laldenga moved into the jungles and mingled with the local population with the loot, arms and their deceased minds, starting a zestful insurgency abetted by Paki intelligence (ISI). This story unfortunately does not end here. It was just the beginning of a long drawn out battle in which the Indian army suffered as much, or more than the civil population, while the political kingpins continued triggering dissent and pursuing grandiose personal ambition with the help of ISI.

Aftermath : 1966 – 1987

After the MNF fled into the jungle and started a virulent insurgency, the Army Commander Sam was left holding the tub and bath water, without the baby. His staff officers in Eastern Command ran about helter-skelter and finally, for want of another example, narrowed down to templating ‘Briggs Plan’, which the British had used to subdue a similar conflict in Malaya, a decade earlier.

Briggs' Plan, was devised by British General Harold Briggs in 1950 as ‘Director of Operations’ in Malaya, to defeat the Malayan communists operating out of Malayan jungles as a  guerrilla army, primarily by cutting them off from their sources of support amongst the local population. Briggs devised a massive forced resettlement of Malayan peasantry, around 5 lk people, removed from their natural habitats. He interned them in guarded military camps called ‘New Villages’.

The only unimaginative change that Sam made, before he moved on to Delhi as the CoAS, was to change the name ‘New Villages’ to ‘Progressive Protected Villages (PPVs)’. The man who was put in charge to execute the controversial Briggs’ plan was the newly posted GOC 101 Com Zone (CZ) in Shillong,

Maj Gen Sagat Singh, who was under the impression that he had been side-lined perhaps due to his tenacious action at Nathu La. While he fixed the Chinese at Nathu La pas and fenced off the border, his colleague in the adjacent area in Sikkim abandoned Jalap La pas for ever. In the administrative melee that followed, very strangely, the man who lost Jalap La got away while Sagat’s heroic acts at Nathu La was not viewed in kindly light, perhaps because he was considered a maverick and prone to think and act out of the system box. In a war that followed, several years later, as GOC 4 Corps, Sagat’s illustrious character traits won India its greatest military victory in a thousand years. That war, as also the insurgency in Lushai Hill Tract required such a man, with ability to think and act out of the box.

In the aftermath of the civil war in Lushai hills, Sam’s desire to execute Briggs plan immediately, was not Sagat’s priority. Instead he went after Hav Laldenga and his MNF/MNA/MNV. Though Sagat was close lipped and held his cards close to  his  chest, he perhaps felt that Briggs plan was  likely to succeed only when the insurgency was controlled, a matter of chicken and eggs perception, which was to be done first ! By the end of 1966, armed reinforcements were sent to the Lushai Hill Tracts (18 Punjab, 9 Bihar, 6, 18 & 19 AR, 4 Bn of CRPF) to maintain law & order under Sagat’s command (101 Com Zone, at Shillong).

Capt Chandrakant (later Maj, VrC) of 4 Guards, recollects; ‘During the raids on MNA hideouts, the documents seized indicated transfer of large funds to MNF from the Methodist Baptist Churches in USA, and routing such funds through the Roman Catholic church in Shillong. The expat missionaries were the conduits for MNF funding and were found abetting and inflaming the MNF aspirations. Most of these foreign missionaries were therefore expelled and replaced with Christian priests from Kerala’.

Chandrakant continued. ‘The MNF/MNA/MNV cadre dispersed in smaller units, merged with the local population and continued to carry out armed attacks against the security forces in the district. The villagers suffered from both sides. The insurgents would kill those resisting their entry into the villages, while the villages suffered reprisals from the security forces in case ambushes had taken place in their vicinity. However, due to the proactive efforts of the Army to win the hearts and minds of the people of Lushai Hills, they began to turn against the insurgents and often helped the army to locate their hideouts and act as scouts. The tide began to turn against Laldenga’.

To the south, due thick forests in Burma, Laldenga had no direct escape route. Using 61 & 311 Bdes, well placed blockades on every exit route, extensive use of helicopters to reposition his forces, Sagat effectively blocked off the eastern and western escape routes. A new 57 Mountain Div was raised at Masimpur and a Counter Insurgency / Jungle Warfare School at Vairengte to train Inf Soldiers in the art of fighting counter insurgency battles. Every soldier in Mizoram was trained in this school to reduce the degree of violence and to reduce discomfiture of the innocent population especially during cordon and search operations.

Sagat then started a systematic flushing of MNF/MNA/MNV out of the jungles.. Gradually, they were either caught and jailed, or if they surrendered, sent for rehabilitation programmes instituted by the army and civil administration. Hav Laldenga escaped into East Pakistan along with a few of his cadre. Sagat then carried out clandestine cross border, deep penetration strikes into East Pak.  But Hav Laldenga, under the protection of Paki intelligence, moved first to Mirpur and then to Lalmai Hills, from where he escaped to Chittagong tracts and the jungles in Burma with what was left of MNA.

Briggs’ plan was finally put into effect by Sagat, on the insistence of Sam, with political connivance and approval of Cabinet Committee on Political Affairs (CCPA) which also included opposition parties, plus Planning Commission. 764 villages (95% of population in Lushai Hills) were forcibly grouped together into 18 Progressive Protected Villages (PPVs), in four phases over 4 yrs, in a 30 km belt along the Kolasib-Lunglai road, in an infamous military operation named ‘ Accomplishment’.

The PPVs had barbed wire fencing, ditches and ‘Punjis’ to protect them from MNA attack. All inmates of PPVs were issued Identity cards and had to take an ‘Out Pass’ when leaving the PPVs for personal errands. Anyone caught outside the PPVs without a pas was deemed MNF/MNA and arrested.  The major complaint against the PPVs, discomfiture for the tribal populace who were earlier nomadic, was discontinuity of ‘Jhooming’, burning of jungles to do cursory farming and moving on to other locations when the forests grew back. In reality, the Mizos lived in better conditions in the PPVs, were better fed and clothed, availed modern medical facilities, lived a safe and secure life,  all under the auspices of the Army. Many reports filed by foreign correspondents, after visiting PPVs, bear testimony. This continued till 1970.

While insurgency continued at lower levels, the space for political negotiations was created by the Army. In August 1968, the Government of India offered amnesty to the insurgents, which resulted in the surrender of 1524 MNF members. This was followed by more amnesty offers, which led to benign entry of the MNF into mainstream politics. While armed insurgency was contained, ‘Op Accomplishment’ inflamed the passions and aspirations of the Mizo peoples for autonomy and statehood, but without secessionism, or claims for ‘Azaadi’. 

In 1971, because of the efforts of RAW, who negotiated with Laldenga, the GoI agreed to convert Lushai Hill Tracts into a Union Territory, which came into being as ‘Mizoram’ in 1972. Afterwards, in 1986, in pursuance of Rajiv Gandhi’s peacenik policies, RAW once again negotiated a ‘Memorandum of Settlement’, signed by Hav Ladenga, R. D. Pradhan (Home Secretary), and Lalkhama (Chief secretary). Following the Mizoram Peace Accord, Mizoram was declared a full-fledged state of India in 1987, incredibly with the secessionist, arsonist, Hav Laldenga as its first Chief Minister !!! Laldenga finally won his war, even had a victory parade in Aijal, with the Army saluting and acknowledging him as ‘King of Mizoram’ !!!  However, political defections within MNF toppled him from office in 1988, like Humpty Dumpty.  

Hav Laldenga never rose in politics again, perhaps due to lung cancer. He was treated at state expense in New Delhi and New York. While headed for London, he died on 7 Jul 1990. Hav Laldenga, the Kaliyug King of the Mizos, was honoured with the first state funeral in Mizoram, and buried in the centre of Aizawl, the born again Aijal, capital of the 23^rd state of Indian Union for which Laldenga had fought tooth and nail. More than 80% of the Mizos now live in Aijal and one wonders whether Hav Landenga is happy in his grave.

On the 50^th anniversary of the ‘Rat Revolution’ Mizoram is now one of the most peaceful states in the region, leapfrogging towards prosperity. Mautam came again in 2006-07. But rats have realised that they cannot create a revolution again. Mautam has now become a tourist event. Rat revolution is perhaps over, for good. Thank God. The Mizos like my old senior comrade in AF, Joe Lalmingliana and an old GF in Aijal whose name I forgot, they are really very nice people, they deserve better; all the peace, prosperity and happiness they can have !!

Cheers to the Mizos.

Cyclic.

CAMARADERIE ?

I am an alumni of RIMC, Ranjitian, 1962-66, and from 37/F in NDA. I joined the Air Force.

 Afterwards I led an uneventful life doing ‘this & that’, ‘here & there’, and never had a chance to visit ‘Rimc’ till 1996, or even remembered that I was a ‘Rimcolian’. None asked me, and hence I never told these ‘nones’, that I am a Rimcolian, till I retired from AF in 1994. One ‘L’ is sufficient for ‘Rimcolians’, in Hinglish, don’t you think ?!!

Sometime mid Feb 1988 I took over as the CO of 104 Sqn, then equipped with AS-11 Anti Tank Missiles on Chetak helicopters, located at Sarsawa (Saharanpur). I had neither been to Sarsawa earlier, nor to Manali, by foot, car, or flying, flapping my wings like the Biblical Icarus. My job was simply to induct the formidable ground attack helicopters, Mi-35s, into 104, move the unit to Bhatinda, integrate with army under JIP-87 and prepare the Sqn for high intensity, high density battle on the western front ASAP. The eventuality of war seemed very real at that time. Phew, huff & puff, one hell of a job. I was being lovingly goaded, and purposefully prodded, ‘faster, faster’, by a superior ‘Armed Kaur’ Rimcolian (then BGS in 10 Corps, later VCoAS).

 Just a few days after I had taken over the Sqn in Sarsawa, there was the usual rounds of welcome parties. My subordinates bestowed their affections by insisting that I have Patiala, ‘one for the road, and then one for the gutter’. So on one weekend, a Sunday night, when it was raining cats and dogs, I had more sycophancy than what I could imbibe, even in the gutter, and was just falling asleep, when the doorbell rang at 0230 hrs on Monday morning.

My wife immediately turned over in bed, pulled the blanket over her head. ‘I have a migraine’ she said. ‘You handle this’, she commanded. Obedience is drilled into all Rimcolians, even if they are filled to the gills with rum & molasses. Hence, I had no choice but to obey.

I hitched up my lungi to half-mast and ran bare chested to open the door with much irritation since someone was persistently and continuously ringing the bell. ‘What the phokes ?’, I roared, like a zebra turned ‘Tiger’ turned ‘Gadha’. There was lightening, thunder and heavy rain in the background.

‘Hai, You Bugger’, said an apparition when I opened the door. He was in uniform, with pips of a Lt Col, soaked to the skin, water dripping even from his W-front ‘chaddi’. There he was, Sec Cdr Ranjit, winner of the President’s Gold Medal, ‘Swapan Bhadra’. My classmate, whom I had not seen since we passed out of NDA in 69, almost two decades earlier. Swapan was just the same, tall, handsome, suave, sportsman extraordinaire, didn’t need an introduction. The bugger has a record of winning all the medals clean sweep, along with the sword of honor, in IMA.

 ‘‘What the phokes ?’, I mumbled again meekly, giving him a zestful hug. Immediately he did commando style deep penetration into my drawing room dripping water all over the carpet and sofa. I should have closed the door on his face and told him to ‘phoke off’ when I had a chance. It was too late now.

‘What are you doing here, at this time of the night ?’ I asked out of curiosity. After all there is a limit to civility at 0230 hrs, on a Monday morning.

‘I have to reach Manali by 0730 hrs or I will be court marshalled’, he announced unceremoniously. ‘And you are going to take me there’, he commanded. ‘Give me a drink, Champaign, and something to eat, I have not had anything to eat since lunch yesterday’, he ordered ‘Din-Fast’ (dinner + breakfast, on the quick, double march). I don’t blame him, I was dressed worse than a ‘Masalchi’ of the Madras regiment on holiday in Kovalam.  I poured him a drink and went to the kitchen to make ‘Masala Dosa’, with my lungi at half-mast.

 While I was making Dosa and warming refrigerated Sambar, at 0245 hrs in the morning, Swapan told me his story hanging on to the kitchen door, sipping my Champaign, directly from the bottle. He does everything in style.

 Swapan had been posted to DRDO’s Snow & Avalanche Study Establishment (SASE) at Manali and had gone to Meerut to pack and dispose off his baggage, which perhaps consisted of several GFs too. He is such a handsome, suave, irresistible kind of chap that all neighbourhood birds watch him. Baggage is easy to dispose off, but not the birds. So he had over stayed his leave and had just few hours to join his unit, or be court marshalled as ‘absent without leave’. He was asking me to demonstrate camaraderie. Old boy’s ‘esprit de corps’, to do or die, simply mumbling ‘Itch Dien’, whatever.

 While I was making the third Dosa, at 0255 hrs, I evaluated the odds.

I was drunk and not fit to fly.

I could get court marshalled, grounded, all of which were worse than what could happen to Swapan, if he didn’t reach Manali at 0730 hrs.
The weather was bad, there was no way I could help him reach Manali, where I had never been to before.
We could kill ourselves doing what he wanted me to do.
I would lose my command before I even got used to having, ‘one for road and one for the gutter’, war cry of the boys under my command.

 None of it sounded good. They sounded like laments of an old woman. I was a Rimcolian, got punched, ate vitamin XXX, scotch eggs and then was made to run round and round the quadrangle to imbibe camaraderie and esprit de corps. It was time to show it, not act like a wimp.

 So, Swapan and I got into his jeep at 0330 hrs, and went to my Sqn. There was only one of my airmen on guard on duty. ‘Tham, Kaun Aata hai’, he challenged with his Danda, holding it like a rifle doing a bayonet charge. ‘Tera bap’ I told him. ‘Come here and help me push the hanger door open’. We pushed out a Chetak helicopter which had its fuel tanks full. We kept pushing it down the taxi track till the ARC dumbbell, far away from the AF habitation.

 At 0415 hrs, we got airborne as quietly as possible. It had stopped raining and the clouds had lifted. It was still dark with the eastern sky beginning to glow.

‘You do the map reading’, I told Swapan.
He was holding the million map upside down. ‘Yar I have never seen such a map, do you have a ¼” or 1” map like the army ?’, he asked.
I was in serious trouble, the clouds were sitting on our head at about 500’. I drove the helicopter like a ‘Jonga’, terrain following using the landing lights, heading for Manali knowing fully well that I can never reach Manali  in such weather. But I had to show Rimcolian camaraderie, esprit de corps, didn’t I ?

 To cut a long story short, we did reach Manali , somehow, never once going above Jonga driving height at full speed, around 140 kmph. Swapan went into Champaign induced sleep despite all the excitement and his batman kept jabbing my head from behind when I nodded off, rum induced sleep. The helicopter flew by itself and had more camaraderie than I. Moses used godly powers to part the sea. With same zest I used willpower to try and part the trees, hills and the clouds. The helicopter knew where to go and what to do. Actually I didn’t do anything, I was feeling very sleepy.

I dropped Swapan at Manali, refuelled and came all the way back on my own, just like I went, parting trees, hills and clouds like Moses. I had learnt to do all that and more, because of Swapan.  I arrived back at Sarsawa as my colleagues were assembling for the monthly ‘Station Parade’ at the opposite dumbbell. So I quietly landed on the ARC Dumbbell and switched off. ATC began making frantic calls to figure out the mad man approaching at low level and landing at Sarsawa, so early in the morning, in bad weather. I switched off the radio to get the irritating ATC off my back. I ran to my office, instructed my men to push back the helicopter from ARC dumbbell, changed into uniform and ran to attend the parade.

‘Did you go somewhere early morning ?’, my boss the Station Commander asked me later. I winked at the OC Flying, ex NDA few courses senior, seeking his tacit cooperation. ‘I was just doing an early morning ‘doo-shang’, I told my boss with a straight innocent face, ‘Just helping the compass to find the North, Sir’. Waffling was an art I had learnt in Rimc, and refined to ‘fine art’ in NDA. In love and war, always waffle, do Kathakali to win, that was my belief. 

Nothing more was said or heard from Swapan, till we met a decade later in school on 13 Mar 98. We only hugged and said cheers, the Manali escapade remained forgotten. It was not anything special to remember.

I don’t think this story is anything great. At best it was just a ruddy display of Rimcolian brotherhood. Do you think that is what is meant by ‘camaraderie’ or perhaps ‘esprit de corps’ ?!!

 

 

 

 

CONFESSIONS OF A POSTMAN

One winter early 70s, Indian Airlines went on strike.

Don’t know how much it affected the jet set crowd, because those days the ordinary folks travelled by train, no one was in a hurry to go anywhere. In my wonky opinion, the Postal Dept got constipated because ‘Air Mail’ got stuck, in their you know where. So Air HQ was told to apply a ‘pull through’ to clear the barrel of the P&T.

Air HQ came up with an incredibly simple plan. One Dak each was to be positioned at Cal, Madras, Bombay and Delhi. Each was to go to Nagpur and back. The P&T would switch the mails from Dak to Dak at Nagpur and Bingo, the P&T could now heave a sigh of relief from constipation. All well laid plans get laid in the heat of the battle, and that is what this story is about. P&T didn’t want to send mail during day as envisaged by Air HQ, they wanted it done at night. Flying Daks during day was a difficult job. At night, well it was almost the most stupid thing to do. P&T was most insistent, ‘do it at night’, they commanded. I guess they were right, making love or war, they were best done in the dead of the night !!

I was then minding my own business in 43 at Jorhat.

When not flying, I would go and ask Le-Le Sir, our venerable Flight Commander, ‘Sir, can I go to my room ?’.
‘Why ?’, Le Le Sir was a man of few words, a man of ‘Le-Le, or De-De  Action’.
‘So that I can relax and go to sleep’, I would say most sincerely.
‘No’, he would say emphatically. ‘Finish the author book, make MFTR, do boards & charts, write Sqn diary, board of officers, CoI, canteen check, base ops duty, orderly officer, paying officer, look after pigs, run citronella plant, be food member …………do something constructive’, he would say in one breath. All these were my jobs when I was not flying.
‘Sir, can I go to account section ?’, I would persist.
'Why ?’.
‘So that I can go from account section to my room and go to sleep !!’. I was a stupid chap, but scrupulously honest, reason why he never laid me on the foot mat.  Actually Le-Le Sir was very fond of me.

When the P&T plan was given to him, he promptly dispatched a Dak from Jorhat to Barrackpore with two sets of crew. As an afterthought, to get me out of his sight, I was added as the 11^th man, the cheer leader and score keeper.

Once in Barrackpore, our routine was to proceed to Dum Dum where the mail was to be loaded at around 2200 hrs. Since Barrackpore ATC closed at 1330 hrs, we had to raise a 901 for a three ton that used to masquerade as an ‘air crew transport’ before the Bongs in the station went home at 1300 hrs, to pick us up from the mess at 1200 hrs since the MTD too wanted to abide by ‘Bong Marxist Labour Union Law’ that encouraged all to spend quality time with family after 1400 hrs. Bengalis chatter in long breathless sentences, I learnt that in Barrackpore. Phew…..what a long sentence above.

More often than not, our routine was to leave the mess after an early lunch, with packed dinner, push start the 3 ton and the Dak, take off for Dum Dum before 1330, land at Dumdum, loiter around the departure/arrival lounges to do bird watching. Sleep for a while on the very uncomfortable chairs in the lounge and dream. We dreamt of many things. Mostly fair weather and friendly Bong birds, good behavior of Dak, a cup of tea, and more than anything else, for Lord P&T to position the load on time at 2200 hrs.  Bongs are not only very argumentative, but from the size and number of ‘Air Mail’ bags, I inferred that they also compulsively wrote too many argumentative letters too !!  

Once the mail was loaded, we push started the Dak, got airborne to cruise at around 6000 feet on auto pilot, while the Signaler went nonstop ‘Dit Da Dit Dit Da’, telling Shillong ‘Eastern Control’ to piss off. The two pilots would then appoint the Nav as ‘Officer On Bridge Watch’, a term borrowed from the Navy, burrow ourselves under the mail bags and go to sleep. The Jorhat Daks had open windows and door, so it used to be very cold up there. Sometimes the Navs also would delegate his ‘watch keeping’ to the Sigs, make him sit on the pilot’s seat and surreptitiously join the pilots under the mail bags. We had a Nav who couldn't sleep. So he used to open mail bags fishing for love letters to do ‘time pass’. If the love letter was not zestful, he would add explicit intensions as PS, lick it closed, and put it back in the mail bag !!

Exactly one minute before we hit Nagpur NDB, the Nav or the Sig would wake up the pilots. After landing, while P&T took out the mail bags and re-loaded the Daks with return mail for Cal, everyone would head for the ATC cafeteria where a fat lady, Bhabi type, used to serve delicious cutlets. 

Other Daks would come from Madras, Mumbai and Delhi, and the whole jing-bang crew of all four Daks would have a mid-night snack party, cutlets, Coke and Hip Flasks. The return journey to Cal was usually a repeat, and we would land back at Dumdum around 0400 hrs. We had to hang around the dispersal, usually under the Dak’s wings because the lounges would be closed, there were no birds to ogle. A thermos of coffee from the Nagpur fat Bhabi would help ‘time pass’. We could land back at Barrackpore only after the ATC started union hours at 0730. There would be no MTD and hence, no 3 ton. Return to the mess for breakfast at around 1000 hrs and into bed by 1100. Barrackpore mess also accommodated hybrid mosquitoes, legacy of the Gnat Sqn from 71 war. The mozzies were well versed in doing air defence combat air patrols, tactics they learnt in Boyra. They did not allow us to sleep even with a mozzie net.  They would use the thermals of the fan to slide up the walls, right up to service ceiling and then dive bomb from there like a Zero, right through the mozie net to catch us unaware. Usually we slapped, punched and even kicked ourselves to sleep. The second crew would take over. That was the master plan, which got laid.

The zestful meeting and greeting of four sets of Dak crew from four corners of India at Nagpur soon began to take shape of an adhoc secretive battle plan. Everyone had a GF at some corner of India and here was an opportunity to go with Air Mail to visit them surreptitiously with no fear of being caught 'en flagrante delicto', or ‘AWOL’. It started as a trickle, one by one.

‘Just a day in Madras’, begged one of the Jorhat crew. ‘Manage without me, I will be back after two days’.

He switched Dak at Nagpur and caught the one to Madras (TTW Dak from Bangalore, sometimes the yellow TTU target towing Dak from Cochin). He didn't come back for five days and when asked why, he said with a sheepish grin, ‘I have several GFs in Cochin and even in Bombay’. Soon the trickle leak became a deluge, turbulent subsonic flow, and it reached a point when everyone ran off from Barrackpore leaving the Dak with just RPM Nair and I, to manage on our own.

Three days in a row, RPM graduated from his Navigator’s throne at the back and shifted into the co-pilot’s seat. Sleepless days and nights with no birds in Dumdum terminal, just the ruddy Air Defence fully ops mozzie Gnats at Barrackpore. Our eye lids became so heavy that we couldn't keep it open for more than a few seconds. RPM improvised clothes clips to pin my eye lids to my eye brows, during take-off and landing in accompaniment of his vulgar jokes with quadratic equations to blow my mind.  On the fourth consecutive night, we got airborne somehow from Dum Dum, even though the flare path seemed to be converging at the Transport Command Datum Line (TCRL), about 10 feet in front of the Dak’s nose.

As soon as we were airborne and climbing, I told RPM, ‘You got controls, wake me when we are overhead Nagpur’, burrowed myself under the mail bags and within a second was fast asleep, dreaming of fair weather birds and what I would do to them if I caught them. It was perhaps a long dream since I had many novel ideas to tackle bird menace of youth.

I woke with a start, pushed the mail bags aside, and looked at my watch. The time was ETA Nagpur + 40 mts. I jumped up and ran to the cockpit. There was no one in the cockpit, the Dak was merrily flying on its own.

‘Rrrrrr Peeee Emmmmm’, I screamed.

I ran back into the fuselage. I could see one flying boot sticking out from under the mail bags. I gave the boot a football corner kick. RPM shot out like a Polaris missile launched from a submarine, from under the mail bags. ‘There is none is the cockpit’, I shouted over the din of the engine noise and the cold air rushing around the fuselage. I ran back and buckled myself into my seat. RPM was right behind and strapped himself in.

I put on the landing lights.
‘What are you doing ?’, RPM quizzed making a face.
‘I am trying to look out for Nagpur’, I said, perhaps incipient panic and onset of disorientation.
‘Switch the ruddy thing off. We over flew Nagpur 43 minutes ago’, he said calmly, displaying supreme confidence, a character trait of RPM. ‘Turn around’, he ordered me, pulling on the khaki cloth head set with bulbous earphones that made us look like monkeys. I did the same and buckled my dummy smelly Oxygen mask on my face, used only because it had a microphone inside. I had to have both hands to disengage autopilot, usually the Dak bucked and kicked like a mule when the autopilot was disengaged.

‘Nagpur approach, Victor Oscar Bravo’, RPM pressed the PTT and said into his dummy Oxygen mask without clipping it on his face. He couldn't stand his own spit smell and made RT calls without breathing.

I began to turn around, but was unsure which was the sky and which was the ground, both looked the same. ‘RPM, which way is the ground ?’ I asked.

‘Oscar Bravo, Na-ga-pur, I was so bhurried, how do you read ? I made so many calls, you did not resh-pund’, the Bong Nagpur civil controller began complaining. I think I was trying to invert the Dak thinking that sky was the ground.

RPM tapped the artificial horizon, trying to make me focus there. ‘Nagpur Bravo is inbound from west, stand by for ETA’, he said breathlessly.

I turned around, reciprocal. RPM trimmed the circular wheel on my side and the Dak pitched forward . He opened a bit of throttle and readjusted the pitch lever to stop making the props go asynchronous, ‘wow,wow,wow,wow’. The Dak began to descend at a faster speed. I was very happy to let RPM do things without asking him stupid questions.

‘Nagpur Oscar Bravo, ETA Nagpur in 35 minutes, request gradual descent and long finals’, RPM started fiddling with the radio compass. 
‘Alter heading left by 12 degrees’, he said after half a minute, pointing at the radio compass.

‘RPM, are we climbing or descending ?’, I asked in a partial disorientated state. RPM took out the clothes clips and silently pinned my eye lids to my eye brows. Now I could see the instruments better. I felt better too, and smiled. RPM smiled with me.

‘I thought you were supposed to keep awake and fly while I slept’, I voiced my frustration.
‘You think I am God ?’, RPM scowled. He pointed at the far horizon. It was a clear moonless winter night with no sign of fog. We could see the glow of Nagpur on the horizon. We silently descended and approached Nagpur.

‘What happen, Oscar Bhravo, bhy are you approachiiiiing phram bhesht, your homing to Na-ga-pur 085 ?’, Nagpur enquired incredulously.

‘Oh it is OK, we just went for a bit of sightseeing, ETA 17 minutes’, RPM told the approach controller soothingly. I could now begin to see the glimmer of the flare path. I pushed the nose further forward and opened more throttle trying to get to Nagpur faster, before I fell asleep again.

We heard the Dak inbound from Madras calling and asking for long finals. Nagpur approved and advised him to check short finals.

I started doing cockpit checks, adjusting the UV lights on to the instruments. When I looked up out of the cockpit, the runway flare path had vanished. I looked and looked, opened my eyes wider to let the ‘Rods’ in my retina get a hard on, improve night vision. I could see twinkling lights in the sky and on ground, but the runway had disappeared in a matter of twenty seconds.

‘RPM, am I inverted ?, I asked quite frankly, without fear or favour, as Tagore told me to do.

‘No, you are doing fine, the sky is up there’, RPM said pointing. ‘See, that is the Orion group, and down below see the rotating beacon of the airfield’. 
Like I said, RPM was unshakable, inspirational, supremely confident, a man I prayed for, to have as my Nav.

‘Where is the f***ing runway ? I asked totally confused. ‘It was right there on the nose, I could see the flare path, now I can’t see it’, I confessed.

‘Eda Maire’ (‘pubic hair’, in Malayalam, RPM’s endearment for me). ‘Can’t you see, the controller has switched off the runway lights of 09 and switched on 32 to let the Madras Dak land’.

‘I looked again and now I could see the cross runway lit up. ‘Should I land on 32 ?’, my mind’s gyros had somewhat become rigid and precessed more than 90 degrees.

‘We are still 8 nautical miles from touch down’, RPM instructed me. ‘Carry on for 09, the controller will put the lights on for you after the other aircraft lands’.

In due course we landed on 09, switched off and went to eat cutlets. I think we ate one dozen cutlets each, like the last supper, and went to sleep on the floor of the cafeteria. We left for Cal next morning and didn't fly for next two  days. There were no Air Mail love letter delivery in Cal for 36 hrs. Few more crew members, Bongs who had run off locally, returned and hence RPM and I were given two days off to go and gallivant in Grand, watch out for birdies in Dalhousie square and Park street. Those days the Bong birds had a board around their neck, ‘Look, but don’t touch’.

I was a bad postman, I confess.

I am still using clothes clip to hold other things up. Time to raise 901 to go for met briefing, on my way to Valhalla. RPM is already there, waiting for me.

Cheers

CYCLIC