Letters From The Border and Other Less Told Stories

Letters From the Border

And other

Less Told Stories

Sino-Indian Conflict: Operation Leghorn, The Story of 7 Brigade Signal Section (8th October 1962 to 20th October 1962)

By

Brigadier Lakshman Singh VSM (Retired)

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Published by:

Brigadier Lakshman Singh

Copyright 2017 Brigadier Lakshman Singh

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A SMASHWORDS EDITION

PUBLISHED BY:

Brigadier Lakshman Singh on SMASHWORDS

Copyright 2017 Brigadier Lakshman Singh

ISBN: 9781370960682

Dedication

To all the Jawans, non commissioned and junior commissioned officers of Seven Brigade Signal Section, who served with me in the ‘Valley of No Return.’

All army wives past, present and future.

In loving memory of my late wife Rosy (22nd May 1939 to 30th October 2000) whose infrequent letters, I anxiously awaited in those fateful days at Tawang and later. Her love sustained me during the difficult period. She was the driving force in making me write this narrative after a period of forty years.

Acknowledgements

My thanks are due to Lt. General E.G. Pettengell PVSM, MBE (Retd.) for sparing his time to discuss with me the events of that time, Major General K. K. Tewari PVSM, AVSM (Retd.) for his valuable advice and suggestions, to Brigadier P.S. Gill (Retd.) for filling the gap in, as to what was happening in the rear at Tezpur, to Lt. Colonel for CUK Nair, who provided the last link in the Signals chain from 7 Brigade at Dhola to Army HQ at New Delhi. Mrs Suchandra Chakraborty, librarian, The Statesman Kolkata who kindly dug out the September/November 1962 issues of the paper from the archives and read me the headlines on telephone. Colonel V.K. Singh, my nephew, for reading and revising my first draft, Colonel Vikram Tiwathia for his valuable suggestions, Shri H. O. Agarawal for going through the manuscript thoroughly. To Major General V.K. Singh for giving the final touches to the book, Anu for giving shape to my badly typed manuscript on her computer and her foresight in keeping a backup floppy, which came very handy when the master floppy got corrupted. Irshad for scanning and printing my hand drawn sketches and watercolours, To Kalpana, my daughter who scanned my old Kodachrome slides and faded black and white prints, of 1962 vintage, and sent me a CD of the same from New York. I also thank Mr. Kalyan Sarkar for converting the synopsis of the story into a script for a feature film, which had to be shelved temporarily due to certain unavoidable reasons. All friends and colleagues who encouraged me from time to time and gave their valuable suggestions, especially Mrs Rekha Sharad for suggesting the format adopted for the narrative. I would also like to thank various authors for quoting from their works. Appropriate acknowledgements have been made in the text. Finally, I would like to thank my late wife Rosy (Jeet, as I called her) who insisted that I compile the stories into a readable format. Without her encouragement this task would have remained pending indefinitely.

Contents

Foreword

Profile

Preface

Prologue

Book One: Part One

Chapter 1: Agra to Tezpur

Chapter 2: Tezpur to Tawang

Chapter 3: Holiday in Tawang

Chapter 4: From Reality to Make believe

Chapter 5: On to the Border

Chapter 6: Marking Time at Lumla

Chapter 7: Tsangdhar

Chapter 8: The Valley of River Namka Chu

Chapter 9: Escape

Chapter 10: Safe: Back in India

Book One - Part Two The Saturday Syndrome

Postscript

Sealing the Lie

Those of Signals who gave their life in Op. Leghorn

The Big Picture

Extracts

A Quick Guide to the Chain of Command from Army HQ to 7 Brigade

Book Two: The Other Less Told Stories

'An Exercise in Futility' - Arty Support to 7 Brigade (Story of Capt. H.S. Talwar)

Baptism by Fire - Story of 2 Lt. AJS Behl GPO at Tsangdhar

'Only if' The Nightmare That Won't Go (Lt.. R.I.S. Kahlon)

Dharam Singh’s Story (Naib Subedar Dharam Singh)

From the Roots of Grass - Story of Sepoy Bhairon Singh

40 Years Plus: Where Are They Today?

Epilogue

Glossary

Further Reading

MAPS

PHOTOS

About The Author

Foreword

By

Lt. General DP Sehgal, AVSM, VSM, ADC

Signal Officer-in-Chief and

Senior Colonel Commandant, Corps of Signals

Profile

Captain Lakshman Singh

15th July 1931 to 11th May 1962

Do the pushes and pulls of factors like family background, the value system, up-bringing, the schooling, training and the initial tenure in units have any effect in rounding the personality and honing the qualities required in an officer especially in Signals? Possibly the answer may be found by a look at the profile of my early life. If nothing else it may throw some light on hows and whys of my acts of omission and commission during those fateful days.

Born in a small town, the youngest of four children in early thirties, I was the darling of the family. My father being in Government service, we did move from place to place on his transfers.

Being the youngest had its own problems. My sister got married when I was still a child, resulting in my remaining extremely shy in female company. My elder brothers soon left for college. By and large I was left to my own devices. School had its own problem, lacking the support of elder brothers I had to face the brunt of school bullies alone, which did not do much to my self-confidence. I was my father’s favourite and I would spend a lot of time in his company even on his official outings. I was strongly influenced even as child by his honesty, integrity, fairness and capacity for hard work.

As I grew up, I would look forward to the visits from my elder brother, a towering figure in my eyes who had by now joined a Central Govt service. When he got married, my sister-in- law, by her affection for me, filled the empty space in my small world, left behind by my sister on her marriage. Possibly I would remind her of the brother left behind.

I was not bad in studies, possibly slightly above average. Unfortunately, I was not very good in games. One, I was the lone child in the house. Two, a long bout with malaria than rampant in Dehradun and later in Saharanpur, both regions of malaria carrier, the ubiquitous mosquitoes, had left me physically weak and effected my growth at critical junction in my age of growing.

College in Dehradun and University in Lucknow did help in building my self-confidence and the personality. A stay together in hostel with my middle brother also helped. I did get his support, he being in final year of MA.

Shy by nature and uncomfortable in their company I could not make any meaningful friendships with students of the opposite sex during my college years. However, some enduring friendships with other students did get formed which continued even later.

While proceeding for interview at Services Selection Board (SSB) Banglore, one of my close friends, based on my lean and thin physique, discounted my chances of being selected for the Army. Possibly that was the starting point of my journey towards developing a spirit of self-determination and will power.

IMA Dehradun was an obstacle course to be concurred only by extreme effort and determination. Every time I stamped my foot on the Drill Square in front of Chetwood Hall, some equation or formula learnt with so much of effort, in college and university would drop out of my head. Many times I hit my knees into the wooden horse on the PT ground while trying to jump over it and kept on trying till I managed to be over and on the other side. By grit and willpower I did manage to transit from a gentlemen cadet to an officer in the Corps of Signals on 3rd June 1955.

School of Signals was a different story. The technical side was no problem but the tedious details of manpower and equipment holdings at various levels of section, company, and regiment to be crammed to get good marks in the tests left me cold and I passed with an average grading.

Life on posting to the regiment was a different game altogether. Young officers were to be seen only and not heard. The Senior Subaltern, first Lakhanpa and later AJS Gill, was the Captain of the YO’s team, our guide, friend and philosopher. The adjutants office was the most dreaded place in the sprawling campus over which the regiment was spread, The Commanding officer sat in a room, which we would skirt around even when it was unoccupied.

The CO was one the toughest known and a hard taskmaster. The Company Commander, believed in doing things right rather than doing right things. Commanding the most technical company with little technical knowledge at his command, he could only blow hot and cold and wield the stick.

My first OC had a lot in forming my attitude towards army in general and Signals in particular. He taught me the importance of delegation, responsibility towards, confidence and faith in subordinates also the importance of the ability to distinguish between a horse and mule, when to listen and when to only hear. But I am more than indebted to my JCOs, NCOs and soldiers for holding my hand and not letting me down in those formative years. Above all I learnt the value of dedication also the fact that in Signals we were basically a service provider, the reason for our existence was providing communication to the formation and that it was a twenty four hour, round the clock job.

The Command of the Signal Section of an Independent Brigade at isolated Yole, far away from the influence as also any possible help and assistance from the regiment at Jalandhar, did add another brick in building the wall of self-confidence. Intimate contact with staff on daily basis was both an experience and training in Signals Staff relationship which no amount of classroom teaching could provide.

An opportunity to be the Rover detachment commander for The Chief of Army Staff, General Thimayya on holiday at Manali in October 1987 was the high point of my life as junior officer. It provided me with a close look at the top of the army hierarchy. Although I was independent administratively I was fortunate to be invited, rather than ordered to sit at the table with the General, his gracious wife and vivacious daughter. The two other officers were the ADC and his Military Secretary, Lt. Colonel Munshi. I had the privilege to see the humane side of the General from very close up. His compassion for the junior most officer, the hen-pecked husband, the dotting father, enjoying being the butt of jokes of his wife and daughter. I also witnessed the same person morph into the Chief of Army Staff the moment we arrived back at Pathankot, where he was to address the garrison troops. The steel of his personality, the aura so visible that it hit me in the chest even from afar. Having been part of the family for a fortnight I felt lost at this distance.

The experience I had during that fortnight in the value of compassion, human behaviour and attitude towards others would have been otherwise impossible to gain.

Another independent posting to a Gunner regiment was a lesson on how to survive in an alien environment. It was also my first encounter with man management in a situation where the senior section NCO had lost respect in the eyes of the men a difficult situation for command.

My marriage made me a member of another family, a large one at that, with a loving mother-in law, a father-in-law to whom I was persona non grata. He had no love lost for those who could not give him company in his daily drinking bouts. A kid brother-in-law who was fascinated with my Smith and Wesson army issue pistol, an elder sister-in-law with whom I always had a running battle for reasons known and unknown. It is possible she was reluctant to let go of her influence and authority over her younger sister, my wife, something which I strongly resented. To Jeet’s younger sisters, I was from a different world with my western music records and ballroom dancing, some to wonder at and others to admire from a distance.

Redistribution of love and affection, the rationing of annual leave between the two families and the desire to spend some time with Jeet taught me how to carry the balancing act between two opposing forces. It is possible my knowledge of dynamics as learnt in Intermediate Mathematics helped to some extent. Rosy, a perfectionist in so far as I was concerned was always trying to sand paper any aberrations perceived by her in my personality. Marriage to her made me appreciate the beauty and joy of loving for love’s sake alone.

I was fortunate that in my early days, I served under difficult, tough and demanding Commanding Officers with attitudes that could make or break a youngster. But there was also a silver lining. With every officer in the same boat, there was tremendous mutual regard and support among us all which kept our heads above the water and prevented us from sinking.

My first lesson in military writing was when the CO made me redraft a paragraph seven times on ‘Range Classification’ i.e. the use of personal weapons in a firing range by officers and men of the regiment for the daily regiment al Orders, before he was satisfied.

With this background and profile that took thirty years of formation, of which eight were in the Army, I landed in Tawang one day in 1962, hoping to proceed on annual leave after a short tenure, little knowing what was in store for me.

Preface

There is a very scanty coverage of Signals in the recorded history and accounts of the Sino-Indian conflict. What little does exist of the whole operation has been dismissed by the Corps of Signals in half a paragraph.

Major General KK Tewari who was at that time the Commanding Officer (CO) of 4 Infantry Divisional Signal regiment, in his book: A Soldier’s Voyage of Self Discovery, has been more than modest about the achievements of his regiment, possibly because the theme of his book is based more on the spiritual aspects of his experience. In his narration, he has, of course, been more than kind to me and the men of 7 Infantry Brigade Signal Section.

A well-recorded history inspires and motivates later generations of soldiers. More importantly, the sacrifice made by officers and jawans deserves recognition and rememberence, otherwise their effort would have been in vain.

I was involved at the regimentdiaal level both as the Officer Commanding the ‘O’ Section and the DSO (Duty Signal Officer). Later at the brigade level I was OC Seven Brigade Signal Section as the dramatic events unfolded.

We, of the 4 Divisional Signal regiment sans the luxury of a single Radio Set AN/PRC or RS C41-R222, had done the backbreaking job of developing communications to various formations, keeping commanders and staff in touch. Modern systems of communication like the tropo-scatter, communication satellites, ASCON (Army Static Communication Network) and Plan AREN (Army Radio Engineered Network), now taken for granted, had yet to even become a part of the thought process of Signals.

I have endeavoured to narrate a factual account of events that took place along with my personal views and impressions culled from writings I maintained in a diary over the years, now tattered and torn, and in which I had recorded almost forty years ago, the lonely hours spent at Tawang, away from my young wife.

My wife, whose given name was Harjeet Kaur was Rosy to her family and friends, but I took to calling her Jeet and she addressed me as Sahib. Different names in the narrative at different places may confuse the reader.

Emotionally, she probably suffered more during that period of our involuntary separation than I did. She had to cope with constant scrutiny, advice and criticism doled out, not only her large family, with whom she was staying, but also in a subtle yet effective manner by her in-laws. There was no escaping them either as they too, resided in the same town as her immediate family.

My parents, who had moved to our ancestral village after my father retired from civil service, showered all the love and affection on Rosy and adored Chottu, our year-old daughter. My father always treated Rosy as his own daughter rather than a daughter-in-law. Rosy did go to the village to stay with my parents as often as they wanted her to. Staying in a village with a small child had its own constraints. In addition to the necessary confinement to the house, there was no one of her age she could communicate with or relate to. There was also no means of entertainment, limited medical coverage for a small child and worst of all the long turn around time of mail to and from Tawang.

Events were taking place faster than the mail could reach us. Words written in the letters were overtaken quickly by events. Any misunderstandings between the two of us were due mainly to these extraneous factors and took its own sweet time to get resolved. Rosy never forgave me for my involuntary abandonment. I pled guilty for the same, despite my helplessness to do anything to mitigate her suffering at that time.

I do confess that my reflections are that of a young Captain: fleeting in nature. I saw little, understood less and heard only fragments of conversations between the commanders and staff. This in a way was a blessing in disguise; it left me unaware insulated from the dangers to life and limb. Ignorance and lack of experience of war can be an advantage at times, leaving one free to concentrate on the immediate task at hand.

Being the Signals officer of the brigade did help me in preceiving the rapidly unfolding events that had become totally distorted due to the unreal prevailing atmosphere. It was a make believe war until the 20th of October 1962 when it came upon us with devastating suddenness and catastrophic effect.

Notwithstanding this, I still saw, heard and understood more than any other officer of my rank at that time. Being the Sparrow which was code for Signal officer of the Brigade, all messages passed under my eyes. The CO, when I was DSO at Tezpur, had drummed-in the importance of traffic scrutiny to me. It had become more of a religion to me. In addition my proximity to the Commander and Staff and the constant stream of visitors to Tawang also helped.

This is not only my story, but also a Signals story, that of a small sub unit, the 7 Infantry Brigade Signal Section of 4 Infantry Divisional Signal regiment, which I had the privilege of commanding. As a matter of interest back then the Indian Army did not have Mountain Divisions to combat in mountainous terrain. It is also the story of the JCOs (Junior Commissioned Officers) and jawans (uncommissioned army personnel i.e. soldiers) who followed me blindly, in and out of the valley of death for the simple reason, as aptly summerized by Naib Subedar Dharam Singh, Because we are wearing OG. OG referred to the color of the uniform worn by soldiers of the Indian Army. That simply was reason enough and a sufficient motive. None other was required. Such was the incredible devotion and loyalty of the jawans.

Above all this is a story of human endurance, team spirit, dedication and high morales; of initiative and expediency; of experimentation; of mutual faith and confidence at all levels especially between the Signals and Staff.

Results achieved and methods employed were exceptions rather than rules due to extraordinary circumstances. No formal orders, written or verbal, were handed to me right through the Operations. I was roughly infomed of what was required and sometimes not even that. We knew what had to be done and we had to find answers and methods to do the same. Each one knew his job well and each one was aware it had to be done. The ‘how’ was left to them.

I have written about events and attitudes that have relevance even today as an example of perfect harmony that existed between staff and signals. It was a well-oiled machine that operated efficiently without much attention, albeit with a large number of wheels and cogs missing. In so far as the personnel of Signal Section were concerned, there were no complaints by any of the one-man detachments situated in isolation. Not about the poor quality of food, which was scarce to begin with, or the lack thereof when there was none to go around, nor were there complaints about the lack of suitable winter or snow clothing, and more importantly in view of the aforementioned, no protests about continuous shifts or long working hours.

We were supposed to have no problems, no reasons for complaint. Whatever we requested was heartily promised; what we actually got was a different matter. "Move forward, it will be delivered in situ." We asked for cable. Yes, we got it, but on drums no one could lift, especially those that had landed in deep ravines. Petrol for the generators was delivered in 42-gallon drums…not so easy to handle. You wanted communications stabilised? No problem. Move forward! Leave the established set-up behind! Stabilise new set-up at new location.

When communications were up the Commander was elsewhere and the Brigade HQ had moved forward. They asked, "What’s the problem? Shut it down when no one is left to use the communications. No battalions on the B-1 net, no staff or commander in the HQ? Why? How? When were the sets closed down? Questions, questions only for me to answer.

That one could survive without food, water, sleep and winter clothing for days and nights on end with the constant threat of the Chinese close at our heels was no small miracle and in spite of all the odds stacked up against you, you bring your men out safely, yet the only question posed was why had you left the radio-sets behind.

Even if we could have somehow lugged the 62 radio sets with their dead load of batteries and generators on the non existent tracks and trails, where every step taken on those steep and rugged slopes was a torture, every step an invitation to death by a fall down into the vertiginous ravines and valleys, with some of the men plodding onward with frost bitten and swollen feet what purpose would it have served?

There was nothing left of the Brigade HQ, neither commander nor staff. somehow those conducting my inquisition could not make it clear to me. Were we supposed to originate Situation Reports as we went along? For once I was on a strong wicket; no one had thought to teach us this onerous duty in the JC Signals course at the School of Signals.

Why was the time of closing so important? What did hinge on the time? Did Signals run away leaving the commander and staff behind and was the battle lost because of this? I was thoroughly grilled on the exact time of closing down at Rongla by no less than the Director Signals together with the Chief Signal Officer (CSO) Eastern Command, the Director, Military Intelligence (DMI) and a few other bigwigs present.

‘A radio set for a Signalman is akin to a rifle to an infantryman,’ the Director Signals reminded me in the Officers Mess at Tezpur. We had carried both going in and, at least, brought the rifles out only to be forced to hand them over to Bhutanese Officials before we could enter India. No one bothered to ask or listen. In any case, I was too junior an officer in that august assembly to make my voice heard. Our efforts in providing communications in next to impossible conditions were hardly appreciated by any one, since no one who mattered was left.

This narrative also focuses on the emotional and human dimensions in a conflict and does not stake any claim or pass judgement, even by hind sight, on the tactics followed, the strategy adopted or political decisions, directives or actions taken by those in power and authority. It is a record of events as seen and experienced through the eyes of a young junior officer at that time.

The source material has been the short note I have on the role of Seven Brigade Signal Sections. The script of my talk given to the young officers on a posting to the School of Signals in 1963, my sketchy diary, my own faded memory and finally the letters to my late wife Rosy which she had saved and I found in her effects after she passed away. I am not too sure that she would have allowed me this