Ranjit Bawa @ronbawa - Twitter Profile

3 months ago

Another interesting anecdote, from my Dad, one of 100 he compiled in his book ‘in and out of uniform’! Also reflects the strong bond between soldiers, transcending time and space! @palbawa @KaranBawak01 @

Manan S. Bhatt

@mananbhattnavy

3 months ago

"Ambushed" #UntoldStoryArmy During a military training course in Mhow, India, the 1962 war with China broke out. My course was cancelled, and everyone returned to their units. However, I received special orders to stay put and await further instructions. Two days later, my posting to Jammu and Kashmir arrived – with immediate reporting required. Having driven my car to Mhow, I had no choice but to take it back to Punjab, leave it there, and then travel on to J&K. Pressed for time, I decided to drive straight from Mhow to Delhi, a risky decision. One particularly dangerous stretch was between Gwalior and Agra, notorious for bandits and lawlessness. Traveling alone at night through this area was foolish, but I pressed on in my trusty Hindustan-14. Around midnight, approaching a narrow pass through low hills, I found the road blocked by a fallen tree. It was an ambush. Turning back wasn't an option. As I stopped, armed men materialized, their faces hidden. They searched me for valuables, taking my watch and wallet before moving on to my car and luggage. However, things took an unexpected turn when someone announced a "Sardar" had arrived. Every one pulled back a little and there appeared a sturdy young man with a large mustache. As he drew near, he suddenly sprung to attention and gave me a smart salute and said ‘Sahib Ji, tussee ethay ki kar rahey ho.’ (Sir what are you doing here!) From his voice and his face, latter day mustache notwithstanding, I recognized him. He was my tank gunner and had been discharged after his seven-year tenure of engagement. Those days soldiers were discharged after seven years and given no pension. I responded to his query and asked him,’ Nahar Singh toon aye ki kam pharya hai (Nahar Singh what is this work you have taken on.) He said, ‘Sahib Ji admi nu kuch na kuch taan karna chaheda hai, welay beth kaay vi ki karna hai.’ (Sir one must do, some or the other work and there is no point in sitting idle!) I told him, ‘tenu aasi eh taan nahi sakhlaya’ (we did not train you for such activity.) “Sahib ji tohati ambush laney di sikhlai kam ahh rahi hai. Sadi ambush wich koe nuks hai!.” (Sir your training in laying an ambush is proving useful. Do you find any fault with our ambush.) He responded with a loud chuckle. He addressed his gang and said. “Dekheya sadhi regiment de officer kiney deelair hun, ekelay he rat nu is sarak tay chal rahey hun.” (do you see how brave are the officers of our regiment. They travel alone on this road at night.) I asked him if his wife knew what work he was doing. To this he answered “Sarian gallaan wife nu thorian dassidian hun. Oh soch di hai kay main police da kam kar rahaan hain.” (You don’t disclose everything to your wife. She thinks I am working for the police). At this one of them interjected that, “Police whi ehhoo kam kardi hai.” (Police too does this sort of work). This raised much laughter amongst them. Then he told his men not to just stand watching but to quickly make tea for the sahib. All my stuff was put back in the car, and my watch and wallet returned. After a cup of tea and much bonhomie and handshaking I took leave of Nahar Singh and his gang. A story by Lt Gen Harwant Singh

mananbhattnavy's tweet photo. "Ambushed"
#UntoldStoryArmy

During a military training course in Mhow, India, the 1962 war with China broke out. My course was cancelled, and everyone returned to their units. However, I received special orders to stay put and await further instructions. Two days later, my posting to Jammu and Kashmir arrived – with immediate reporting required.

Having driven my car to Mhow, I had no choice but to take it back to Punjab, leave it there, and then travel on to J&K. Pressed for time, I decided to drive straight from Mhow to Delhi, a risky decision. One particularly dangerous stretch was between Gwalior and Agra, notorious for bandits and lawlessness.

Traveling alone at night through this area was foolish, but I pressed on in my trusty Hindustan-14. Around midnight, approaching a narrow pass through low hills, I found the road blocked by a fallen tree. It was an ambush. Turning back wasn't an option.

As I stopped, armed men materialized, their faces hidden. They searched me for valuables, taking my watch and wallet before moving on to my car and luggage. However, things took an unexpected turn when someone announced a "Sardar" had arrived.

Every one pulled back a little and there appeared a sturdy young man with a large mustache. As he drew near, he suddenly sprung to attention and gave me a smart salute and said ‘Sahib Ji, tussee ethay ki kar rahey ho.’ (Sir what are you doing here!)

From his voice and his face, latter day mustache notwithstanding, I recognized him. He was my tank gunner and had been discharged after his seven-year tenure of engagement. Those days soldiers were discharged after seven years and given no pension.

I responded to his query and asked him,’ Nahar Singh toon aye ki kam pharya hai (Nahar Singh what is this work you have taken on.) He said, ‘Sahib Ji admi nu kuch na kuch taan karna chaheda hai, welay beth kaay vi ki karna hai.’ (Sir one must do, some or the other work and there is no point in sitting idle!)

I told him, ‘tenu aasi eh taan nahi sakhlaya’ (we did not train you for such activity.) “Sahib ji tohati ambush laney di sikhlai kam ahh rahi hai. Sadi ambush wich koe nuks hai!.” (Sir your training in laying an ambush is proving useful. Do you find any fault with our ambush.)

He responded with a loud chuckle. He addressed his gang and said. “Dekheya sadhi regiment de officer kiney deelair hun, ekelay he rat nu is sarak tay chal rahey hun.” (do you see how brave are the officers of our regiment. They travel alone on this road at night.)

I asked him if his wife knew what work he was doing. To this he answered “Sarian gallaan wife nu thorian dassidian hun.

Oh soch di hai kay main police da kam kar rahaan hain.” (You don’t disclose everything to your wife. She thinks I am working for the police). At this one of them interjected that, “Police whi ehhoo kam kardi hai.” (Police too does this sort of work).

This raised much laughter amongst them. Then he told his men not to just stand watching but to quickly make tea for the sahib. All my stuff was put back in the car, and my watch and wallet returned. After a cup of tea and much bonhomie and handshaking I took leave of Nahar Singh and his gang.

A story by Lt Gen Harwant Singh

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Ranjit Bawa

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