The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories (12 page)

Abdul Hamid’s grandson Jameel helped fill the gaps in this story by narrating conversations he had had with his grandmother Mrs Rasoolan Abdul Hamid. Mrs Hamid can no longer hear properly.

The first time her father did not come back home, leaving the family very worried, Lieutenant Colonel Adi Tarapore’s daughter Zarine was just 15. She could feel her mother’s anxiety from the way she paced up and down the house. And she kept doing that till he came back.

The second time Lt Col Tarapore did not come back home, well, he just never did. No amount of worrying or praying or pacing could bring him back this time because the 1965 war had claimed him.

Zarine Mahir Boyce is now in her 60s and it has been nearly fifty years since her father Param Vir Chakra (PVC) Lt Col Ardeshir Burzorji Tarapore, died but memories of him are still fresh in her mind. Sitting in her Pune house, she remembers the loving dad and the brave soldier that he was. Sometimes, a smile lights up her voice but sometimes her voice is tinged with sadness. It has been many years, she says, but it does seem like it happened just the other day.

The time was 7. 45 p. m. The sun had set and the lights had been switched on in the handsome residence of the Tarapores, who lived in the cantonment. Adi was the commanding officer (CO) of The Poona Horse and he wasn’t back yet. Mrs Perin Tarapore was starting to get seriously worried because he had promised her he would be home much earlier. It was the birthday of a civilian guest, who was staying over with the Tarapores, and Adi had promised her that he would be back by 6 p. m. so that they could cut the cake. The cake sat on the dining table, the kids—Xerxes and Zarine—were getting impatient, but there was no sign of Adi.

At quarter to eight Mrs Tarapore was relieved to hear the sound of a vehicle in the driveway. It was her husband’s jeep. When the jeep stopped at the porch and Adi got off, she was horrified to see him walk in with his uniform covered in slush. His driver and wireless operator were similarly covered in grime. The kids and the guests had also collected around him by then and Adi apologetically told the group that his jeep had got stuck in the Gurari Nala, a stream that then flowed outside Babina. His uniform was dirty because he had helped his men push it to get it out of the slush. The guest, who was quite enamoured of Adi’s rank and status, expressed shock that despite being the CO of the regiment, Adi had to get into the water to push the jeep. The normally gentle and polite Adi stiffened at that and retorted: ‘I am not made of sugar and salt that I’d get washed away. Anything my men do, I do with them.’

Zarine, was listening to her father. She would never forget his words or his love for his men. Adi was to spend just one more year with his family. In September 1965, during the biggest tank battle fought between India and Pakistan at Phillora in the Sialkot sector, an enemy shell would hit his tank. Adi would be standing in the cupola when the tank would erupt in flames consuming him and his intelligence officer. He would die a hero’s death right there on the battlefield, to the shock of the men he loved so much. At that time his left arm was already in a sling from an earlier injury for which he had stubbornly refused to be evacuated. Before that he would have led his men right into Pakistan and his unit would have successfully captured Jassoran and Buttar Dograndi. For the valour displayed by him in this action, lasting six days, Lt Col Ardeshir Burzorji Tarapore, would be awarded with the highest war-time gallantry medal, PVC, posthumously.

Ardeshir Burzorji Tarapore, lovingly called Adi by his friends, was born on 18 August 1923 in Mumbai. It is believed that the family name Tarapore came from the village of Tarapore that was one of the 100 in the mansab (estate) awarded by Shivaji to his ancestor, who was a leader under the Maratha ruler eight generations back. The mansab was given as an appreciation for his courage and loyalty and incidentally these were the very qualities evident in Adi also, right from the time when he was a little boy.

There is an interesting story about his childhood. Adi had an older sister and a younger brother. When he was six, he was once playing with his 10-year-old sister Yadgar in their backyard. The family cow broke loose and charged at Yadgar. While Yadgar screamed in terror, little Adi quickly reacted. Picking up a stick, he stepped in front of the cow and smacked it on the nose with it. The startled cow backed off and the two children went back to their game.

This quality of fearlessness remained with Adi even as he got older. In those days, Hyderabad was a separate state and though Adi had his heart set upon joining the armoured regiment after leaving school, he was commissioned into the 7
^th
Hyderabad Infantry as a Second Lieutenant in January 1942. How he got the Lancers and then Poona Horse is another interesting story.

It happened quite by chance. Once, when his battalion was being inspected by Major General El Edroos, the commander- in-chief of the Hyderabad state forces, during routine grenade- throwing training, a young sepoy panicked and accidentally lobbed his grenade right into the throwing bay. Without a thought for his own safety, Adi immediately jumped in and, picking up the grenade, flung it away. The grenade burst as it left his hand, and flying shrapnel embedded in his chest, but there were no other casualties. Maj Gen El Edroos was very impressed with the young officer and, when Adi had recovered from his injuries, called him to his office to congratulate him. Adi requested him for a transfer to an armoured regiment, and the general had him posted to the 1
^st
Hyderabad Imperial Service Lancers. And thus Adi’s dream was fulfilled.

Controversy, however, continued to dog Adi. During World War II the 1
^st
Hyderabad Lancers saw service in the Middle East and was commanded by a British officer, who was rude and often criticized the fighting capabilities of the ‘natives’ under his command. On one occasion he insulted the Nizam. Tarapore, who was present, took strong exception to this and boldly told his CO, ‘You have insulted my country and my king, and I do not mean George VI.’

The incident created a furore. The regiment was put into isolation and all its ammunition withdrawn. The matter was finally settled after Maj Gen El Edroos visited General Montgomery and Adi’s career saved.

Tarapore was posted to the the Poona Horse, or 17 Horse, after the merger of the Hyderabad State with the Union of India. There he joined A Squadron (which was a Rajput squadron) and, despite being a non-Rajput, developed such a close rapport with the men, that he was jokingly given the unofficial designation of ‘Colonel of A Squadron’.

Lt Col Shivraj Singh, who was a newly commissioned subaltern at Chatha Camp in Jammu when Tarapore first joined the regiment, has written about the day Tarapore joined. ‘Sometime in late 1951, news was received that an officer, ex-Hyderabad Lancers, was being posted to the regiment; he would be on probation for two years and would be given a permanent commission in the Army, only if he was found fit for retention in service. One fine day, when the officers were all sipping beer under the shade of a mango tree near the mess hutment, a well-built young officer of medium height walked in along with the second-in-command (2-IC) and was introduced as Captain Ardeshir B. Tarapore. The officer was very neatly and correctly dressed in his olive green uniform. He appeared somewhat shy and reticent, but confident, and was very polite and correct in his manners and conduct.’

That was Tarapore and soon he would become the darling of the regiment. In fact, he would develop such strong loyalty to 17 Horse that he would even start growing the fearsome cavalier moustache, modelling it on senior squadron NCO (non-commissioned officer) Bahadur Singh’s moustache, and he would proudly tell the other officers that he was just following the ‘true A Squadron tradition’. Even when he commanded the regiment many years later, Tarapore continued to sport this impressive moustache. He was fond of saying that the commandant of The 17 Horse only looked like a commandant if he sported a cavalier moustache.

Tarapore idolized Napoleon, Lt Col Shivraj remembers. He read about Napoleon extensively, often quoted him, and even kept a bust of the great man on his desk. In fact, when he was in high spirits, Tarapore often tried to emulate Napoleon much to the delight of other officers. Once, in the mess after a number of ‘Har Har Mahadevs’ preceded everyone downing their drinks, spirits were quite high, and Tarapore, after a few whiskeys, suddenly declared that he was a reincarnation of Napoleon. To prove it he struck a hero-like pose but felt the impersonation was incomplete without the right headgear. His eyes soon rested on the large silver mess bowl filled with water and floating rose petals. Tarapore quickly picked it up and inverted it over his bald pate, to represent Napoleon’s hat. He then stuck his right hand into the jacket of his mess dress and adopted a typical Napoleonic stance. He was thoroughly drenched but his spirits were not dampened at all. For his fellow officers it was wholesome entertainment.

Tarapore is remembered by all his men and officers for his fearlessness and for being a hands-on CO. No task was too small for him. He often surprised soldiers by personally helping them load ammunition on to tanks, something that most other officers did not do. Sowar Nathu Singh remembers the time when Centurion tanks had just been introduced to the regiment, and the one he was driving had started making a lot of noise making him wonder what was wrong. Suddenly he saw Tarapore Saab (Sahib), who had been watching from afar, sprinting up to him. Reaching the tank, Tarapore jumped up to the cupola and gently told Nathu, ‘Baccha, raise kam karo’ (Child, lower the raise [of the engine]). Tarapore had gone abroad, trained and brought back Centurion tanks to the unit and no one knew them better than him.

When he was not fooling around with the boys in the mess, Tarapore was a good, steady, regimental officer. What made him stand out was that not only could he take quick decisions, he could also pick unorthodox solutions when the occasion demanded it. In 1962, Tarapore was officiating as the commandant, when the regiment received orders to move to its operational location within 24 hours. If normal procedures were followed, there was no way the regiment could have got ready in time, so Tarapore ordered the security fencing around the quarter guard, the regimental stores and the ammunition dump to be broken. Vehicles were driven up to the stores and loaded, and the tanks taken right up to the ammunition bays and stowed with ammunition. The entire regiment worked through the night and was able to move on schedule. The military engineering services could go on raising damage reports, which could be sorted out later! That was the kind of casual confidence with which Tarapore led his regiment even when he came back to command the 17 Horse and take on the might of Pakistan three years later.

The Battle of Chawinda was part of the Sialkot Campaign in the Indo-Pakistan War of 1965. It was one of the largest tank battles in history since the Battle of Kursk in World War II. The aim of the attack was to seize the key Grand Trunk Road around Wazirabad and Jassoran, which would enable domination of Sialkot-Pasrur railway, thus completely cutting off the Pakistani supply line. The striking force of the Indian 1
^st
Corps was the 1
^st
Armoured Division supported by the 14
^th
Infantry and 6
^th
Mountain Divisions and Indian infantry seized the border area on 7 September.