The Brave: Param Vir Chakra Stories (3 page)

We have come to the end of the interview and, as I switch off my Dictaphone, the general stands before a beautiful oil painting of his brother, which hangs on the wall. The late Maj Somnath Sharma of D Company, 4 Kumaon, is standing in his uniform, ribbons on his chest. He looks handsome and proud.

Lt Gen Sharma turns away with a distant look in his eyes. ‘Somi died. He was not there to die, he was there to kill. A job had to be done. It was his job and he did it,’ he says. There is steel in his voice.

Somi doesn’t answer. A half smile plays on his lips.

Maj Somnath Sharma was born on 31 January 1923, in Jammu. His father, Amarnath Sharma, was a medical corps officer, who rose to the rank of major general. Of his two brothers, Surindra Nath, better known as Tindy in Army circles, went on to become the engineer-in-chief. The youngest, Vishwa Nath, joined the armoured corps and went on to become the Chief of Army Staff in 1988. Of his two sisters, Kamla joined the Army as a doctor and married an Army officer, who also rose to the rank of Major General; the other, Manorama, also married a brigadier in the Army.

When Tindy was four years old, his father was detailed to do a medical course in England and decided to take his wife along. Somi and Tindy, who were about one year apart, were put in Hampton Court Convent in Mussoorie. Though Somi was older, they were put in the same class and made a good team. The two remained boarders there, happy to be in the same dormitory.

‘We got kicked around by seniors, but Somi was my protector because he was tougher and bigger than me, ‘ remembers Tindy. ‘I was the brains behind the pair, I was very good at math, and he was more into outdoor stuff. Other than history and general knowledge, Somi was just not interested in studies.’

The deal between the brothers was that while Somi would protect Tindy from the bullies, Tindy would finish all the homework in the evening so that Somi could get up early and copy it. Both went on to study at Sherwood from where Somi, who always wanted to join the Army, applied for admission to the Prince of Wales’s Royal Indian Military College (now Rashtriya Indian Military College), Dehradun.

After passing out in May 1941 he joined the Indian Military Academy (IMA) where he did exceptionally well. By then the war had started and IMA training was cut short. After about nine months of training, Somi became a commissioned officer in February 1942. He was just 19 when he joined the 8/19 Hyderabad Regiment, now 4 Kumaon, as a second lieutenant. He faced action in Arakan where one of the toughest battles of the Burma War was fought with the Japanese on the Arakan coast where three Indian battalions landed, along with one battalion of British commandos.

That was where Somi saw a wounded Kumaoni soldier sitting against a tree. He asked the man to run but when he replied that he was not be able to stand up, the tough and battle-hardy Somi carried the man on his back, right through Japanese crossfire, laughing all the way, and bringing him back to safety. The two were not shot, possibly because the Japanese respected raw courage.

Returning to India as a major and the adjutant of 4 Kumaon, Somi got busy in internal security duties in various parts of Punjab and helping the police and civil authorities in controlling civil disturbances in 1947. Many educational institutions in Delhi still talk of his great powers of organization in arranging supplies of rations and safe movement of people from one locality to another. He was made in charge of a flying squad of men with jeeps, who would assist the police in controlling civil disturbances in Delhi. His amicable but firm command instilled confidence and discipline in many difficult situations.

The same was tested when hostilities broke out in Kashmir in 1947, and India decided to send her troops to save Kashmir from the Pakistani raiders. Though Somi’s left arm was in plaster due to an old wrist-fracture suffered doing gymnastics, he insisted on going with his company. As he was so keen to go, the commanding officer finally agreed and ordered him to fly in and command two companies of 4 Kumaon tasked with the protection of Srinagar airfield. There are some priceless black and white pictures of him with his arm in a cast, taken at Safdarjung Airport, where he is grinning broadly, no doubt happy with the thought of being with his men in war.

When Somi landed in Srinagar in late October, the raiders were closing in on Baramulla with Badgam on route. That was where a bloody battle would be fought and the brave young officer would bring home the first Param Vir Chakra of independent India.

Somi’s life story is often quoted in books and Army messes. It is a tale of sheer courage and glory. The example set by him is recounted with a lot of respect and he is fondly remembered not only by 4 Kumaon but the entire armed forces. To ensure that young soldiers continue to be inspired by his bravery, the training ground at the Kumaon Regimental Centre in Ranikhet has been named Somnath Sharma Ground. A beautiful red brick gateway called Somnath Dwar leads to the perfectly maintained parade ground, flanked by the snow-capped Himalayas. The ground has seen the sweat and toil of thousands of young boys, new recruits of the Kumaon Regiment and the Naga Regiments, who take their first step as young soldiers here.

Sahayak:

The Sikh soldier peering out of the trench looks worried. ‘Dushman nedhe si. Assi tinn see, tey chautha tu—hun kee kariye?’ (The enemy has come close. We are just three, and you are the fourth—what do we do?) he whispers to his section commander Lance Naik Karam Singh, who is standing beside him, still and ramrod straight.

Karam Singh is a handsome Sikh, more than six feet tall. A proud upturned moustache and dark beard lend him a dark, brooding appearance. He is holding a. 303 rifle. His trousers are soaked with blood from the injuries he has been subjected to in the earlier gunfight. He and his men have been able to beat back the first attack from the Pakistanis, but the enemy is back with renewed vigour.

Karam Singh does not answer. His eyes are narrowed in concentration. He is watching the armed Pakistani soldiers advancing towards his outpost. There are just four men in his section and they have already been under intense shelling. All of them are bleeding from bullet as well as splintering rock hits from continuous artillery shelling by the enemy.

He looks at the gun is in his hands but he knows there are too many of them for gunfire to be effective. Besides, he is running short of ammunition and since there is continuous shelling there is no way to get more from the main company position, which is far behind. The enemy soldiers have come closer.

Karam Singh reaches into his backpack and, pulling out a grenade, bites the pin off with his teeth. Swinging his arm in a wide half-circle he flings it at them with the war cry of ‘Jo bole so nihal, sat Sri Akaal’.

The physical strain of the muscle movement runs right down to his leg and he winces in pain, but he does not take his eyes off the arc of the grenade flying through the air.

It lands right in the path of the first row of advancing soldiers and a loud blast echoes through Richhmar Gali. Some of the men fall, screaming in pain; the others have lost their composure.

It is only then that Karam Singh turns to look at the tense, mud-stained faces of his tired and injured comrades and smiles. Jadon assi ithe jaan de dange tan saddi keemat wadh jaavegi,’ (If we die fighting, we will always be remembered) he says, his voice firm. ‘Sade piche bathere ne ladanwaale. Saari company sade piche hai.’ (There are many who will continue the fight after we die) With that, he rummages in his backpack for another grenade, removes the pin and tosses it at those of the enemy soldiers who are still advancing. Another deadly blast rents the air.

Lance Naik Karam Singh was commanding an Alpha Company outpost at Richhmar Gali when around 6 a. m. on 13 October 1948 his section came under a do-or-die attack from the Pakistanis. It was Id, and the Pakistanis had launched a desperate attack to win back the area they had lost to the Indian Army. Karam Singh and his men were completely outnumbered, but they refused to be cowed down by the enemy whose aim was to recapture Richhmar Gali, skirt Tithwal and move in to attack Srinagar.

The enemy soldiers were coming in wave after wave in a bid to take over the outpost of A Company of 1 Sikh. It is to their credit that Karam Singh and his men managed to hold on to their post during two fierce attacks—the first of which came at 6 a. m. and the second followed at 9. 30 a. m.

The men of 1 Sikh still talk about how these two attacks could be beaten back only because of Karam Singh’s courage and will to fight till the end. He is believed to have stemmed the enemy advances almost singlehandedly and wiped out two sections with his perfectly aimed grenades. But after repulsing the second attack, the brave soldier was quick to realize that he would not be able to hold on for much longer. He and his men were heavily outnumbered at one to ten; three of them had already sustained serious injuries and they were also running out of ammunition. In the intense artillery shelling and mortar fire that was coming from the enemy there was no hope of ammunition being brought to them from the main company position either. He decided to rejoin the main company, but insisted on carrying along his two badly wounded comrades.

Without a thought for his own safety or injuries, he pulled out the two wounded men with the help of the fourth soldier, who was the only one left unharmed. Putting their lives on hold, the two of them dragged the injured men through the intense enemy shelling and managed to get them back to the main company bunkers.

Around 10 a. m., the enemy launched another attack, this time on the company position. Without a thought for his grievous injuries, Karam Singh went about fighting from the frontline trenches. He held on even when the enemy mortar fire and shelling managed to destroy almost every single bunker of the platoon. Moving from bunker to bunker, he implored his tired men to continue being brave; to fight like proud Khalsa warriors. He helped in getting the wounded out and encouraged the uninjured to fight back without fear. He did not let the morale of the soldiers sag though the day when the enemy launched one attack after another.

During one of these attacks, Karam Singh was injured yet again, but he kept his faith and, despite the depleting strength of the company, continued the fight. In the next attack that came around 1 p. m., Karam Singh immortalized himself in the war records of his paltan (unit) by another exemplary act of bravery.

The Pakistani soldiers have launched a fifth attack. There has been no respite since 6 a. m. and the tiredness as well as the strain of his injury is bogging Karam Singh down. He grits his teeth to bear the pain and trains his gun on the enemy soldiers moving forward through the grenade smoke. He finds that two of them have sprinted the final few yards and are now right in front of his trench, brandishing their rifles. They are too close to be shot without hurting his own men. Without hesitating for a second, Karam Singh fixes the bayonet on to his rifle and leaps out of the trench. Lifting the bayonet in the air with a blood-curdling war cry, he shoves it right inside the chest of the Pakistani soldier in front of him. Before the shocked man can realize what has happened, the hefty Sikh has struck again. ‘Ghonp nikal, ghonp nikal’, Karam Singh mumbles under his breath, remembering the drill taught to him by his ustad (instructor), at the centre.

The enemy soldier lies dead before him, horror writ large in his open eyes. Pulling the bayonet out of his body, Karam Singh pulls it back as far as his arms can go and in a split second brings it forward again with force, pushing it into the stomach of the next man, who is trying to shoot. A fountain of red springs forth as the lethal blade cuts into the man’s skin and intestines, making him double up and collapse in pain and terror. Karam Singh pulls his bayonet out, and lifting his arm right over his head, pushes it into the fallen man once again relieving him of all pain forever. He jumps back into the trench before his comrades can even fathom what has happened.

Shocked by this savage attack and the coldblooded killings by the hefty Sikh warrior, the enemy soldiers retreat one more time. They do not give up though and keep returning despite being beaten back each time by the strong defence put up by the company.

It is 7 p. m. when the enemy’s will is finally broken and they give up. By then, they have launched eight attacks on Karam Singh’s company, all of which had been repulsed by the Sikhs. They have fired 3, 000 shells, which have taken a heavy toll and destroyed almost all the A Company bunkers but have not been able to break the spirit of the men. 1 Sikh lose 10 men and have 37 wounded during the battle, which is later described by division commander Major General K. S. Thimayya, DSO as a ‘uniquely magnificent fight’. Lance Naik Karam Singh MM is awarded the Param Vir Chakra (PVC) for his devotion to duty and bravery beyond comparison. He is the first soldier to receive it live.

Not only did Karam Singh survive his injuries; he even marched up to India’s first President, Dr Rajendra Prasad, to receive his PVC.

This was his second gallantry award. He had been awarded the Military Medal for his bravery in Burma while he was fighting under the British. He was among the five persons chosen by Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru to hoist the National Flag on 15 August 1947. He lived on to 77 years of age, rose to the rank of Honorary Captain in his beloved battalion and died peacefully at home in 1993.

Karam Singh is fondly remembered by his regiment as the war hero who not only inspired his men to fight and kill, but also helped them retain their confidence despite being grossly outnumbered in the battle of Richhmar Gali.

Most of what I learnt about Karam came from Subedar Kala Singh, retired soldier from 1 Sikh, who was Lance Nayak Karam Singh’s sahayak many years back. I took a train, then a 45-km ride out of Bathinda in an Army gypsy, to visit him in his brick-lined house in Chehalanwali village.

The interview was accompanied by Kala Sahab’s warm Punjab hospitality, which included endless glasses of sour lassi, rotis served with ghee and pickle, and a photo session with the entire family, which included the family goat and tractor.

Old man Kala has a twinkle in his eye when he talks of Karam Singh Saab. He served with the ‘48 war hero and has many memories he is keen to share.

‘We all knew Saab had got a Military Medal in Burma when he was a young soldier. Though he did not talk about it all that much, he would often tell us of episodes from the battle of Richhmar Gali, when he almost singlehandedly foiled Pakistanis bid to take over Company Post. He was a man with guts,’ says Kala. ‘He could fight not just in war but also in peace. When he felt something was not right, he would never hesitate to say it.’

When Karam Singh was the quarter master havaldar of 1 Sikh, Kala was appointed his helper. Besides routine jobs, Kala’s work involved reading and writing documents on behalf of Karam. ‘Saab had never gone to school. He could barely write his own name, so I would help him make ration cards, condemnation boards, etc.,’ he says.

Kala likes to recount an incident that brings out how fearless and forthright Karam Singh was. ‘In the early 60s, Karam Singh was in the Sikh Regimental Centre at Meerut. He was asked to buy sugar for the soldiers from a local mill and was doing that when someone brought to his notice that the sacks of sugar were being soaked in water to increase their weight. A furious Karam told the mill that he would not accept any wet sacks. The mill owner, who was a corrupt but well- connected man, had an argument with Karam. When Karam stuck to his stand the mill owner pushed him physically and threatened him saying he had connections in Delhi.