I was transferred to the Pakistan Military Academy towards the end of Oct 1970. On Nov 12 the most devastating cyclone hit East Pakistan. By end Nov, 47th PMA, the course I was to take, reported to the Academy. My platoon received the largest number of Bengali cadets. And then we awaited the general elections to take place– a rare thing in Pakistan.
When the results came in on Dec 8, Bhutto emerged with the greatest number of seats in West Pakistan, and Mujib all but swept the East. The intelligence estimates were that if these elections were totally free and completely fair, a fractured parliament would result. And this would mean, that behind the scenes, the High Command would remain in power. So, we had the anomalous but rare situation of fair play being enacted, for wholly dishonest purposes!
Nevertheless, by voting thus, the Bengalis had all but given notice, that they were no longer content to play the colony of the West, and that the shoe would henceforth have to be on the other foot. The High Command [with West Pakistani politicians in tow] shot a message back that if Mujib wanted to become Prime Minister, he would have to climb back from some of his “Six Points”, otherwise, the shoe was destined to remain where it had always been because it was they that had the guns. Mujib tried to tell them that he had won his sweeping mandate based on his six points, and so the best he could promise was that he would not enforce all of these, if and when he was Prime Minister.
Matters remained unresolved, and the army decided to put them to rest the best it could. But being a hammer, every problem appeared as a nail to them, which could be “disappeared” with a few resolute blows.
So the army, having their guns to resort to, decided to take them out and settle the issue. On Mar 25, 1971, they opted to go for a military crackdown on Dhaka and launched Operation Searchlight. What this brought in its wake was darkness.
That evening most officers of the Academy gravitated to the Officers’ Mess. When I stepped in, there was excitement all around and a celebratory hub-hub, so that all conversation was drowned out by it, and it was essential to speak at the top of one’s voice to be heard.
In one corner stood all our Bengali colleagues…. quiet, diffident, uncertain, insecure, and wordless. I have never felt a sense of shame and unease as I did then.
After a while I stepped onto the raised plinth of the fireplace and shouted at the top of my voice to ask what all the celebration was about, and whether none of them could see that they were raising their glasses to an erupting civil war which would eventually be the end of Pakistan?
I had no takers. It was like talking to a wall which was talking back to me and drowning me out. Eventually Majors Tariq Parvez [later Lt Gen] and Yakub Mahsud [later Lt Col] joined me, and the three of us managed to make some impression on the “crowd”.
I had no doubt that what had happened would lead to the country being fractured. I had a life insurance with Eastern Insurance Co, headquartered in Chittagong. Over the years I had paid them over Rs 3000/- as premium. This was all the wealth I had. So I asked them to terminate my policy and send me its surrender value. This came only to about Rs 1200/-[900..cant recalled the exact figure?]. I wanted to retrieve what I could, and did so. Thus I salvaged Rs 1200 for the loss of half my country!
My biggest problem was my Bengali cadets because I could completely empathize with their fears and insecurities. They knew immediately that the beginnings of a civil war had been laid. And they did not need history to tell them what happens to the weak in such situations. From then onwards all I could do for them was to be especially solicitous of their well-being, and they must have seen this in my concern for them.
With time the conflagration in the East began to spread, and with it, brutalities committed by both sides. News of mounting casualties brought the possibilities of war closer. Those of us who had not experienced war, began to debate whether it would be right for us to join our units when the war came. We were very aware that an officer is never really “owned” by his unit unless he has fought with them. And to any officer worth his salt, his unit was everything. Officers senior to us, who had fought the 1965 War, were very clear that an officer was never to leave his post without orders no matter where he was serving. The two greatest proponents of this “mature” point of view were Majors Farouk Adam and Farooq Nawaz Janjua, both of whom had been decorated for gallantry in the last war.
In Nov 13nth 1971, 47th PMA passed out. On Dec 1, I went on a week’s leave to my uncle’s in Rawalpindi. A premonition had me pack two pairs of uniform. When I got home my aunt informed me that my uncle [who had performed heroically at Chawinda in the 1965 War] had been transferred to Sialkot at barely a couple of hours’ notice just a week earlier. This was the clearest signal yet, that the outbreak of war was around the corner.
The next day I took a bus to Gujrat, and from there, one to village Tanda, which I reached a bit after sunset.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I began to walk to my unit which was deployed at the border. Presently, when night had fallen, I waved a 3-tonner for a lift and hopped in. This belonged to 42 Punjab [or was it 47?]. When I disembarked, I found that Maj Jamil [ex 13 Punjab] had been riding in the cab of the truck. He was kind enough to give me a jeep to my unit, which I reached about 8 pm.
My Commanding Officer, Lt Col Amanullah Niazi was delighted to see me, as were Capt Hayat and Lt Najam Salim. I was informed that the next day was D-Day for the launch of operations in our sector. The CO though, was a bit perplexed about what to do with me since I did not have my posting order to the unit, but was greatly relieved when I informed him that in conditions of war, he had the power to requisition the services of any officer.
I was to command Bravo Company. Before I left, I learned that one of our jeeps was destined to leave for Rawalpindi the next day. I requested the CO to have it sent that very night so that my stuff from the Academy could be picked up and deposited at my uncle’s.
I gave the following note to the NCO who was deputed for this task: To: The Recipient This Note.
I have reached my unit.
When you receive this note, the balloon will have gone up.
The bearer of this note is Nk Zafraan. Please show him to my room so he can pack up my stuff.
[signed: 14 Punjab. 23 Div]
In the event, Maj Mansoor Irfani, the Adjutant of the academy, got this note and read it out in the Mess.
The next day ten officers left the Academy for their units. Leading them were Majors Farouk Adam and Farooq Nawaz Janjua, the “mature” officers who had counseled otherwise!
Our war began a day later. Charlie Company under Maj Tanveer Shah attacked Burejal. This was a very well-planned and led attack. It was Burejal which had held up 8 Baluch a considerable time in 1965.
The next day my company [Bravo] and Tanvir’s were to attack Jhanda, supported by a squadron of 26 Cav Shermans. The attack was to go in about first light. But the Shermans, plagued by breakdowns along the way, reached us about 10 am, and so our attack became a “night attack by day”.
The first officer to be shot and killed, was Lt Amjad Khursheed. He was Tanveer’s Company Officer. And then Maj Tanvir fell wounded. Of the Shermans that reached battle, a couple “volunteered” out of battle almost immediately. Only about 6 were left. Their communication with their CO was non-functional. Orders from CO 26 Cav [Lt Col Minto] to Maj Ashraf Choudhary, the squadron commander, or to Lt Hassan Zaheer, the troop commander, had to be routed through me. I would get a message on my wireless, run to Zaheer, convey the same to him, get his response, run back and relay the same to the CO.
The last time I ran over to Zaheer, I saw his body spread out on the tank. He had been killed by a large caliber munition. This was not a place to mourn him, nor was there the time for it, for breaking the skyline were two Indian SU-7s making a beeline for Maj Ashraf’s tank.
Sitting cross-legged behind a .50, he calmly aimed and let go a long burst. The first plane let off a plume of black smoke, veered right, and dived to a fall. When its surviving partner swooped down on Asharaf’s tank, we were certain that it too was winged.
I learned after the war that Maj Ashraf had been sent home; accused of cowardice! The Brigadier needed a scapegoat for a failed attack; the CO could not allow the blame to settle on himself; and so he passed it on to Ashraf, who was certainly one of the bravest officers I saw in battle.
Neither of them could bring themselves to admit that the Shermans were too old for battle against well dug and better enemy armour. This was enough to beat the attack back.
On Dec 9 afternoon Lt Tariq Salim Malik and I went to the bank of the Tawi to get an idea of the lay of the ground. We had been earmarked for the next attack across the river.
On the way we passed Chamb to our left. In 1965 Gen Akhtar Malik had captured this town on the first afternoon of operations, and 10 Brigade, commanded by Brig Azmat Hayat, was to advance across the Tawi, bypass Troti, and make for Akhnur. This brigade belonged to Gen Yahya Khan’s 7 Div, and had been put under command 12 Div for this operation.
But Commander 10 Brigade did not show up on the Tawi to resume the advance. He could not be reached on wireless either. The General then ordered Maj Gulzar and Capt Wahid [both 12 Div MP officers] to take separate jeeps and look for the Brigadier in areas indicated, while the Gen himself went to locate the missing officer by chopper.
They all returned empty-handed. Next morning Gen Musa Khan, the Commander in Chief, landed in the operational area by helicopter. He handed the command over to Gen Yahya Khan, and flew Gen Akhtar Malik away. The latter’s command had not lasted even half a day. It had changed the previous afternoon when Brig Azmat Hayat had chosen to make himself scarce on Yahya Khan’s orders, and subtracted himself from battle. This change was a mystery that has remained covered up to this day.
Later someone asked Gen Malik about the importance of Akhnur, and he merely asked in return: “With Akhnur in our hands, could the Indians launch their main effort against Sialkot, without first clearing and securing this town on their flank? And how would this effort have fared in view of Pakistan’s complete command of the skies? In terms of importance, this was Akhnur’s least”.
These thoughts came and went. As we were walking back, we saw the helicopter of the GOC, Gen Eftikhar Janjua, attempting to land behind the cover afforded by village Khairowal. We then saw a cloud of dust and a flame leap high, followed by a plume of black smoke. We both ran towards the scene of the accident.
By the time we got there, they had evacuated the Gen and his pilot inside the village. Both were horribly burnt. A few hours later they were evacuated to CMH Kharian. We learned later that the General had attempted to jump off the chopper when it was still a good ten feet off the ground, but the dust did not allow him to see this. Having forgotten to free himself of his seatbelt, he had swung himself to jump off. By reflex motion his body swung back and his legs crashed into the controls. The helicopter fell like a stone and burst into flames.
In two successive wars we had a successful operation going in Chamb. On both occasions the commanding Generals had been taken out of battle; the first time by removing him from command, and the second time by vagaries of the battlefield and death!
With the General having fallen, offensive operations in our sector came to a halt.
On Dec 16, 1971, the war ended. While looking over the Tawi in a chilly December dusk, I could not help thinking about our army in the East; the many a brave fight they put up, and their eventual surrender to a vastly superior enemy. This was heartbreaking to think about. Our country lay shattered. Our army was launched against the will of a majority of its people, whom it tried to beat into submission. We appeared to have learned nothing from our experience.
Today the people of Pakistan who survived the tragedy of 1971, are being beaten into submission once more. The geniuses doing the beating expect that this time the results will be different. This delusion always attacks those who consider themselves to be exceptional. And the people who consider themselves so, do not know that the only thing exceptional about them were their ranks; and ranks are nothing but bits of polished brass, unless one proves worthy of this.
If worth was to be measured by dishonesty, one needs to confess that such worth, as is being seen today, or lack of it, has seldom been displayed before.
p.s. Two days later Farooq Nawaz Janjua drove in to my company headquarters which was located just behind the home bank of the Tawi. It was a subdued meeting in light of the enormity of the disaster our country had suffered. We exchanged some words about the generalship which had taken us to war and to the disaster that followed. When we parted, neither of us was aware that on the banks of the Tawi that day, the seeds of the Attock Conspiracy had been sown.