We were told that the Chinese will come in waves

2ns Lt A J S Behl, second from right, at Tsangdhar in early October 1962

The first part of my interview with Brig Amar Jit Singh Behl is posted in Rediff.com

'I will say with pride that at no stage did any of my jawans suggest to me that we should withdraw or tried to run away from the fight... not even one of my men deserted.'
'We had fired all our rounds and the Chinese were coming in. We had only our LMGs and guns. We did whatever we could, but ultimately, we had to surrender.'

Brigadier Amar Jit Singh Behl (retd) speaks to Claude Arpi in an exclusive interview, continuing our new series on the India-China War, 50 years later.
Fifty years after the debacle of the Namkha chu river, very few survivors remain to tell their side of the story of the 1962 India-China war.
Claude Arpi met one of them, Amar Jit Singh Behl, then a young and 'carefree' second lieutenant from the 17 Parachute Field Regiment.
After retiring as a brigadier, Behl lives with his wife in Chandigarh, where he is an avid golfer.
He spoke to Rediff.com about the most harrowing three weeks of his life on a plateau in NEFA (now Arunachal Pradesh), dominating a small, but now famous rivulet, the Namkha chu.
Behl and his men fought well, but were ultimately taken as prisoners of war to Tibet, where for seven months they ate boiled radish.
This is the story of a brave para gunner in a war which inflicted lasting scars on the country.

I joined the elite 17 Parachute Field Regiment on July 2, 1962 at the end of an officer's course at Agra cantonment. I was put through my probation tests, which included very high standards of physical efficiency tests, tactical and technical tests.
I was then allowed to wear the paratrooper's prestigious maroon turban. I also completed my parachute basic course which consisted of six day jumps and one night jump. By September 6, 1962, I was a full-fledged paratrooper with a wing on my right sleeve.
I reported to Captain (later Major General) H S Talwar for orders. He commanded the troop called 'E' troop, from 52 Parachute Field Battery. I was feeling very proud to be given a chance to go to NEFA with my troops.
On September 24, 1962, we were ordered to join the 7 Infantry Brigade with guns for fire support in the Operation Zone.
Captain Talwar was the troop commander and I was the GPO (Gun Position Officer), looking after the firing of the guns and the overall administration of the guns.
The troops with the equipment and 4 guns were loaded in five C 119 Fairchild Packet aircraft and one AN 12 aircraft. Captain Talwar travelled in the latter.
The rest of us moved to NEFA via Lucknow, Barrackpore and Jalpaiguri.
On October 3, we reached Tezpur where Captain Talwar received us.
We were given a briefing by Major Narender Singh, the General Staff Officer (GSO 2, OPS) of the 4 Infantry Division. We were told that the Chinese will come in waves, but there was nothing to worry about, because they were not well equipped.

You mean it was known that the Chinese will come in waves?

It was the normal doctrinal tactics of the Chinese in Korea and elsewhere, it is how they proceeded. After the briefing, I was given a sketch of the area.

Not a proper map?

No a blueprint only, a sketch of the Thagla ridge, Dhola Post, Namkha chu (river), etc. We were told that we will go to Tawang by road and later we will be airlifted.

The plans were changed and when we reached Bompu, we were told to come back to be airlifted.

It seems there were two beautiful girls, said to be locals, but later suspected to be Chinese spies, at this place.

Yes, I saw them. Everybody wanted to meet them and have a cup of tea in their teashop.

The next morning we were sent to Dirang near the Bhutan border in an Otter aircraft and the next day, we left for Ziminthang by MI 4 helicopters.

Ziminthang was the tactical headquarters of the 4 Infantry Division. I met Major General Niranjan Prasad, my old brigade commander of the 50 (1) Para Brigade, who was the GOC (General Commanding Officer) of the 4 Infantry Division.

Because he knew me, he called me though I was only a second lieutenant. He asked me to put up my best show. He expected very high standards from his para gunners.

The next morning, with my troops (43 men) we moved on towards our assigned positions, without acclimatisation and porters.

The first night we stayed at Karpola pass (16,000 feet). The next day, we reached Tsangdhar where I was to establish my gun position.

Tsangdhar is a flat plateau dominating the Namkha chu. The Dropping Zone (DZ) was a bit ahead; the idea was to bring the equipment as close as possible from the Namkha chu.

Unfortunately, some of the equipment went into Chinese hands and deep ravines.

It means the Chinese were only occupying the Thagla ridge, not places south of the Namkha chu.

Yes, though the 9 Punjab (regiment) was patrolling parts of the Thagla ridge. I established my gun position in two days; it was done by October 8.

Unfortunately, we had recovered only two guns out of four and 80 rounds out of 250 rounds.

It was because the terrain was very tough, there were many trees. But my men did well, they recovered the guns, assembled them, we were ready to launch an attack or defend the 7 Brigade, whatever the scenario would be.

Lieutenant General B M Kaul, the 4 Corps Commander, had planned to take back the Thagla ridge on October 10 (Operation Leghorn).

I don't know about October 10 or 8, but Pandit Nehru on his way to Sri Lanka made a statement: 'The Indian troops have been ordered to evict the Chinese; the time is left to the discretion of the Army.'

It is in this connection that General Kaul said that we will evict the Chinese on October 10. His plans eventually collapsed.

When did General Kaul visit Namkha chu?

Around October 8, when I was putting up my guns in Tsangdhar, 2 to 3 hours walking distance from the river. Later General Kaul went back to Delhi because he was not keeping well.

I believe he told the government that the operations should be called off and that Indian troops should only maintain a defensive posture.

But as a junior officer, I did not know about these things.

Did you meet General Kaul?

I met him on October 3 at Tezpur airport. He saw me, called me and ordered me to ensure that I should be in Tsangdhar before October 10. I said: "I will do it, Sir."

Had he any notion of the terrain and the respective positions?

I was too junior to question him (laughing), I had only nine months of service and he was a very senior officer.

But we completed everything on October 8, collecting the guns, assembling them, digging the gun pits, the ammunition pits, securing the area with machine guns, etc.

We were ready in time. We were 2, 3 hours walk above the Namkha chu.

On October 10 there was a clash in Tsangle (on the north of the river). Orders was that Tsangle should be held at all cost, we did know what it meant (as it was an isolated place).

After October 10, (presumably after General Kaul met with various people in Delhi), it was decided that we should go on a defensive posture.

He must have briefed Pandit Nehru and (then defence minister V K ] Krishna Menon who had selected him for the task (for evicting the Chinese). It was an impossible task.

What happened on October 20?

In fact, it started before October 20.

On October 19, with naked eyes, we could see troop movements in certain gaps between Chinese defences.

The Chinese were not trying to hide themselves; in fact they wanted to show: 'Look we are here in large numbers.'

At night, they lit up fires; their objectives were to prove their strength and show that they had come in the rear of our defence too.

All our telecommunication lines were cut. They had infiltrated through and gone to our rear.

You have to realise that the bridges on the Namkha chu were nothing else but a few logs of trees assembled together. They were not bridges in the real sense.

On the night of October, the message was clear, 'We are here.'

That day, my nursing assistant died of pulmonary oedema. Before that, in spite of treatment, my two JCOs and one havildar major were evacuated by helicopter due to high altitude sickness. I was left with 38 halvildars and my jawans.

The communications had been cut the night before, and we could not even use the wireless set due to very thick trees along the Namkha chu.

I had nobody senior to direct me. I could not get through to my commander, Captain Talwar, who was with Brigadier John Dalvi at the Brigade HQ. There was no communication with anybody.

On October 19, I went to Major Panicker who was with the OC (Office Commanding) of the brigade supply depot and asked him: "I don't know what is happening. I have no communication."

That night, I had my dinner, checked the sentries and went to sleep. The next morning (October 20) at around 4:30 am, even before I could check my trenches, the shelling started.

At around 9 am, while the shelling was going on, I saw a helicopter coming, but it did not take off. I sent a small patrol of two people to see what had happened. It was about 400 yards down to my gun position.

My patrol came back and said: "There is a Sikh officer with a maroon turban (Major Ram Singh of the Signals) and a non-Sikh pilot (Squadron Leader Vinod Sehgal)". They were dead.

After one-and-half or two hours, another helicopter came, the pilot went half way through and left.

I later learnt that it was Squadron Leader Arnold Williams; he must have gone back after seeing what was going on. He never landed; he went straight from Bridge II to Ziminthang.

Though we had no communication with anybody, I ordered my guns to start firing direct. There was a prominent area, the Black Rock, where we saw a number of Chinese, we kept firing there.

We fired 20, 30 rounds and kept quiet for a moment. There was one of our mortar batteries not far from us, the havildar major came to see me and ask what was happening. He was hit by an LMG (Light Machine Gun) burst and died.

By that time, troops had started withdrawing from Namkha chu and Tsangle area. These people were telling me, "Don't move, keep firing" (to protect their retreat). There were officers, JCOs, jawans running away. The brigade had altogether 3,000 people.

I was a young second lieutenant; I held my post, kept firing in direct roll, also using my LMGs and guns to control the situation.

I felt ashamed of those who were running away. I felt proud of my troops, everybody wanted to fight it out.

I will say with pride that at no stage did any of my jawans suggest to me that we should withdraw or tried to run away from the fight, though three jawans had died by this time, they all obeyed me till the end.

They saw a large number of all ranks running past our gun position, but not even one of my men deserted.

At about 3:30 or 4 pm, we had fired all our rounds and the Chinese were coming in. We had only our LMGs and guns. A large number of them came by waves.

We did whatever we could, but ultimately, we had to surrender.

In this period of 10, 11 hours, I had lost three jawans, two were seriously wounded, 6 or 7 were more lightly wounded.

I saved two seriously wounded soldiers: Gunner Awtar Singh and Operator Chamkaur Singh had got serious splinter hits. I tried to take them to the ADS (Advance Dressing Station), but it was not possible due to shelling.

I told them, "I have a bottle of brandy, I will give you 2 to 3 large doses and pour one on your wounds. Then, keep your tongue between your teeth."

I cleaned my hands with brandy and pulled out the big shrapnel and tied up a dressing on the wounds. We kept this bandage for one month. Later, the Chinese medical officer treated them in the PoW's camp; today, they are perfectly alright.

I got a splinter in my leg, but I never bothered about it.

By 4:30 pm, the whole thing was over, before this I reluctantly gave order to dismantle the guns and throw important parts in the nullah, so that they couldn't be used again.

We were not free soldiers anymore. I was shocked to realise that I was a prisoner of war, but felt consoled that all my jawans had stood by my orders and fought to the last.

The entire picture in the area did not show any signs of organised action, but showed a state of ad hocism.

Click to read Part II...

PoW in Tibet

PoWs in Tibet: Lt Col Ratan Singh, Lt Col Balwant Singh Aluwallia, Brig John Dalvi,
Lt Col Maha Singh Rikh, Lt Col KK Tewari in front of the Potala (April 1963)

Sixty years ago, China started an uncalled-for war against India.
On the occasion, I repost an old article which appeared on this blog in 2012; it is about a painful episode in the life of a soldier: on October 20, 1962, he was taken PoW in Tibet by the Chinese People's Liberation Army.

I have added at the end some rare pictures of the area (courtesy: Michael Dalvi)

Here is my 2012 post:

Continuing with the 1962 War with China: 50 Years Later, here is the story of  Gen Tewari. 
He was commissioned in the British Indian Army in 1942. 
In 1962, he was Commander Signals of the 4 Infantry Division based in Tezpur, Assam. 
On October 20, 1962, as he was visiting his forward troops, the Chinese attacked India. He was taken prisoner and sent to Tibet where he stayed for nearly 7 months. 

In his book, Himalayan Blunder Brig. John Dalvi wrote: “Col. Tewari was a gentle, God-fearing man in addition to being a first rate signaler. He had worked against tremendous odds through the operations and had overcome difficulties which would have taxed an Army Signals Regiment. He is due much credit for providing communications with obsolete equipment and the distances involved. Instead of praise they came in for criticism for not being able to work miracles with out-dated sets and distances which were beyond the range of divisional signals”.
Brig. Dalvi added: “There was a sad sequel to Tewari’s visit [on the Namkha chu]. …When the Gorkhas were attacked, Tewari found himself in the midst of an infantry battle. He was taken prisoner after the Chinese had over run the position. Who has ever heard of a Commander Signals being sent to an infantry battalion on the night before a massive attack, if there was any anticipation of a battle? He would have been at Divisional HQ attending to the Division’s communications.” 

Maj. Gen. K.K. Tewari's story: 
As a result of the Chinese threat on our northern borders, sometime in 1959 the Headquarters of Eastern Command at Lucknow was given the operational responsibility for the defense of Sikkim and NEFA. I was at that time, the Commander Signals of the 4th (Red Eagle) Division Infantry Division located at Ambala. We were immediately ordered to move to Tezpur in Assam.
This Division, trained and equipped for fighting in the plains, had suddenly to be deployed to guard these high mountain regions. While a normal division occupies an area frontage of 30 to 40 km in the plains, we were assigned a front spreading on more than 1800 kilometers of mountainous terrain!
But worse! Before the Division could take its operational responsibilities to defend the border with Tibet, orders for the execution of an Operation Amar 2 were received from Lt Gen BM Kaul, then Quarter Master General in the Army HQ. We were suddenly supposed to build temporary basha (house with straw) accommodations for the Division.
Besides the fact that my regiment had to provide communications for the Division in an entirely new and undeveloped area, we had now to become engineers and builders! You have to understand that a Signal Regiment is a functional unit in war or peace which is supposed to cater 24 hours a day to the various types of communications for its formation.
So, immediately after arrival in Tezpur, the Regiment got involved in the mad rush of building: the Prime Minister was to inaugurate the newly built bashas.
My first four months in command were a real nightmare. We would certainly have preferred to rough it out in tents and spend the time developing a reasonable communications set-up, getting our equipment properly checked and maintained and getting the men used to working with the available equipment in the mountains.
It was a personal relief when, on 14 April 1960, the inauguration was over. Only then did we turn any serious attention and effort towards our operational responsibilities. Even our equipment was antiquated and unsuitable for mountainous terrain and the excessive ranges.
At that time, there were hardly any roads existing in any of the five frontier divisions (FD) of Arunachal Pradesh. The road into Kameng FD, the most vulnerable, finished at the Foothills just beyond Misamari [4 days walk from Tawang]
We were faced with shortages of every kind. It was during these early days in NEFA that one of the COs of an infantry battalion sent a note written on a chapatti. When asked for an explanation, he gave a classic reply: "Regret unorthodox stationary but atta (wheat flour) is the only commodity available for fighting, for feeding and for futile correspondence."
Sometime in 1962, orders came from Army HQ for Operation Onkar (the famous “Forward Policy”), which directed all Assam Rifles posts to move forward, right up to the border. Of course, we were to back them. The idea was to establish the right of possession on our territory and to deter the Chinese from moving forward and occupying it, as was claimed by them. This order was certainly not supported by resources.
At that time, our Division had done almost three years non-family station service and some of the units were already on their way out on turnover. Suddenly all moves out of the area were cancelled and orders reversed.
Brig John Dalvi, the Commander Infantry Brigade who was in Tawang was ordered to move his HQ on a man/mule pack basis to Namkha Chu River area. An ad hoc Brigade HQ was created for Tawang sector overnight with hardly any Signal resources.
At that time, I was the only field officer of Lt Col or higher rank who had the longest tenure at not only the divisional HQ but among all the divisional troops. I should have been posted out after a two-year tenure in a non-family station. But I had also a sort of premonition, and I recorded it in my diary, that a severe test was in the offing for me to assess my faith in the Divine. I certainly had no idea that I would be taken a prisoner of war.
On September 8, 1962, the Dhola post manned by the Assam Rifles on the McMahon line, was encircled by the Chinese. A few days later, we had a meeting of the senior commanders from the Army Commander downwards at Tezpur. A relief party had been ordered to relieve the besieged Dhola post. This linkup was expected by nightfall on the 14th of September: Everyone was tensely waiting for the news of the link-up. Naturally all eyes were on me; as the communications `chief’, to bring them the message. But there was no news until late in the evening.
After this incident, a new Corps HQ was created to take charge of operations in NEFA. Lt Gen B.M. Kaul was appointed as the Corps Commander. He arrived from Army HQ in a special aircraft at Tezpur in the late afternoon of 4 October. At about 10 pm, Lt Gen Kaul announced in his typical flamboyant style that he had taken over command of all troops in NEFA. It was all so dramatic!
Here was a new situation, normally a Corps HQ in those days would be served by a corps signal regiment and another communication zone signal regiment. These had yet to be raised.
To compound these difficulties, Lt Gen Kaul had his own way to send messages.
Normally, a signal message is supposed to be written in an abbreviated telegraphic language. But all messages from the new Corps Commander ran into a couple of typed sheets in prose language and were all marked Top Secret and Flash. They were not addressed to the next higher HQ but directly to Army HQ. You should understand that it required to stop all other traffic to clear FLASH messages.
In September 1962, the higher authorities had obviously assumed that it would be easy to beat the Chinese. Otherwise, one cannot imagine how such an order to engage the enemy could have been issued by Delhi to the ill-equipped, ill-clothed, ill-prepared, fatigued, disillusioned troops.
Do you realize that when Dalvi’s brigade arrived near the Namkha Chu river after forced marches, he was ordered to throw the Chinese out of the Thagla ridge.
I have to tell you a telling incident: arriving near the river, after an exhausting journey, the brigade signal officer discovered that the generating engine to charge the wireless batteries was not here. A porter had dropped the charging engine in a deep khud on the way. It could not be retrieved. I believe it was dropped deliberately, because some of these civilian porters were in the pay of the Chinese.
But I was in for a still bigger shock when it was discovered that almost all the secondary batteries had arrived without any acid. I presume that what had happened is that the porters must have found it lighter without liquid and they probably decided to lighten their loads by emptying out the acid from all the batteries.
How to establish communications when the batteries are dead and could not be recharged? Despite of our good relations with them, the Air Force helicopter boys refused to carry acid. There was no question, of course, of dropping sulphuric acid by air. What was I to do? Fate was also pushing me to my inevitable destiny.
We filled up a jar of acid and marked prominently it: `Rum for Troops' and on October 18, I flew from Tezpur to Zimithang where I met with the GOC, Maj. Gen. Niranjan Prasad. Later, I went to Tsangdhar near the Namkha chu in a two-seater Bell helicopter with just the pilot and with the `Rum' jar strapped onto my lap. I landed there in the late afternoon and I marched down to Brig Dalvi's brigade HQ.
As I arrived there, I could quite clearly see the massing of the Chinese troops on the forward slopes of Thagla ridge.
When I discovered that every unit on the front had numerous signals problems, I decided to extend my stay by a day. It is where fate caught up with me!

On the 19th, Brig Dalvi informed over the telephone the GOC at Zimithang. He pleaded with his boss to let him move out of the `death trap', up to a tactically sound defensive position. Brig. Dalvi was told not to flap but to obey orders and stay put. He was extremely upset and passed the telephone to me saying, "You won't believe me, Sir, but talk to your `bloody' Commander Signals and he will tell you what all he can see with his naked eyes in front."
I spoke to the GOC equally strongly saying that one could see the Chinese moving down the Thagla Ridge like ants and also see at least half a dozen mortars which were not even camouflaged. I added that the Chinese could not be there for a picnic. I was also told to concentrate on my work and not to worry.
I stayed on with the 1/9 Gorkhas during the night of 19th October. Early on the 20th morning, I was woken up from a deep sleep by the noise of an intense bombardment. There was utter confusion in the pre-dawn darkness, shouting and yelling and running around in the midst of these exploding shells. I came out of the bunker and somehow found my way to the Signals bunker with two of my signalmen.
I looked out of the bunker. It was mystifying to see no visible movement outside. There was no one in sight. I peeped out of the bunker again. I saw a line of khaki clad soldiers with a prominent red star on their uniforms advancing towards our bunker. I had never seen a Chinese soldier till then at such close range.
I used to carry a 9 mm Browning automatic pistol in those days with one loaded clip.
The thought immediately was that one's dead body should not be found with an unfired pistol; it must be used, however hopeless our situation. So, when a couple of Chinese soldiers approached our bunker, I let go the full clip at them. And suddenly hell was let loose with the Chinese yelling and firing and a number of them converging onto our bunker. My two assistants were killed and I was alive, but a PoW.

On the road to Tibet
On October 20, 1962, the Indian prisoners were marched along a narrow track across the Namkha chu (river); later we went up to the Thagla pass (about 15,000 feet). On our way, we passed huge stocks of unfired mortar shells by the sides of our mortar positions, while on the northern side of the ridge, Chinese parties were still bringing up 120 mm mortars on a man pack basis.
After 3 days walk, we reached a place called Marmang in Tibet. From there we were taken in covered vehicles at night. During the journey, the Chinese tried to demoralize us; they would make fun of our army: "You do not even have cutting tools for felling trees. You use shovels to cut down trees." It was true; they had seen our troops preparing their defensive positions near the Namkha chu. There were other remarks such as, "You people have strange tactics. You sit right at the bottom of the valley to defend your territory instead of sitting on a high ground."
We arrived at the PoW camp located at Chongye [in Central Tibet] on 26 October and were accommodated in Lama houses which were all deserted although we could see some activity in the monastery above these houses on the side of a hill. 
We were to spend over five months in this camp, located south west of Tsetang, off the main highway to Lhasa. The prisoners were segregated into four companies: No. 1 Company was all officers, JCOs and NCOs. Majors and Lt Colonels were also separated from the JCOs and men. No. 2 and 3 Companies were jawans of various units. No. 4 Company, consisted only of Gorkhas and was given special privileges, for obvious political reasons. Each company had its own cookhouse where the Indian soldiers selected by the Chinese were made to cook.
In our house, we were four Lt Colonels (Maha Singh Rikh of the 2 Rajputs, Balwant Singh Ahluwalia of the Gorkhas, Rattan Singh of 5 Assam Rifles and myself), while John Dalvi was kept in confinement in Tsetang, a few km away from Chongye.
When we made representations to the Chinese that under the Geneva Convention on PoWs, officers had the right to be with their men, we were told quite bluntly that all these were nothing but imperialist conventions.
I shivered through the first couple of nights but then had a brain wave. I had noticed a pile of husk outside. We asked the Chinese if we could use it. Luckily, they accepted, and we could use the stuff as a mattress as well as a quilt.
For almost a month after our arrival, we were not let out of the room. Each of these lama houses had its own latrine in one corner with an open but very effective system of soil disposal. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, the `disposal squad' of pigs had itself been disposed off by the Chinese.
There was an English speaking Chinese officer, Lt. Tong who was with us almost throughout our stay in the POW camp. He would come daily and talk to us individually or together. The theme of his talk with the POWs was monotonously the same: the Chinese wanted to be friends and it was only the reactionary government of Nehru, who was a lackey of American imperialism that wanted to break this friendship. "Then why did you attack us on 20 October?" They would try to explain that India attacked first and the Chinese attacked only in self-defense.
On 5 December, we were given for the first time some books and magazines to read. This consisted of Mao's Red Book, some literature on the India-China boundary question and a few Red Army journals. But whatever they were, they were most welcome for me at least. There was something to do at last to occupy the mind. I took notes from the Red Book. It is a pity that our government did not read some of the Mao’s thoughts. I noted them down at that time: "Fight no battle unprepared, fight no battle you are not sure of winning" or "The enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy halts, we harass, the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue."
Towards the end of December 1962, the Red Cross sent us one parcel each with two packets in it. One packet had warm clothes, a German battle dress, a pair of long johns, warm vest, muffler, cap, jersey, warm shirt, boots and a towel. The second packet contained foodstuff including a bar of Sathe chocolate, tins of milk, jam, butter, fish, packets of sugar, atta (wheat flour), dal (pulses), dried peas, salt, tea, biscuits, condiments, cigarettes and vitamin pills. It certainly was a very well thought-out list of items.
Perhaps to demoralize us, the Chinese would often play Indian music on the public address system in the camp. One of the songs which was played repeatedly was Lata Mangeshkar's "Aa Ja Re-Main to kab se Khari Is par...." [Come, I have been waiting for so long] This would make us feel homesick.
With my habit of writing a diary, I kept notes as a POW also. In the first week or so, the only available paper to write on, were some sheets of toilet paper in my para jacket pocket. The question was how to keep these papers from being discovered by the Chinese. What I had done was to open the stitching on the ‘belt’ part of the trousers and then slide the folded papers inside. This was how my diary notes on toilet paper could be brought out to India.
One other episode of our stay in the camp is worth recording. One day, towards the end of our stay, at our request we were taken to see the palace and the monastery. It was a shock to see the palace with all the beautiful Buddha statues of all sizes and fabulous scrolls (tankhas) lying broken, defiled and torn and trampled on the ground.
On 25 December, we, the seven field officers were taken in one of the captured Indian Nissan trucks to spend the Christmas morning with Brig. John Dalvi at Tsetang. He was kept all alone and was comfortably accommodated. We had breakfast and lunch with him and were shown a movie. Dalvi had suffered a great deal mentally — being all by himself. He was now better.
The first letters we received from home came only in the third week of February 1963. Some of us, including myself, received parcels of sweets too.
On March 26, we were informed that we would soon be released and taken for a conducted tour of the mainland China. Suddenly we became VIPs, though still held as prisoners. We were given various comforts and given new clothes and shoes.
Before leaving the PoW camp, we asked the Chinese to take us to the graves of our soldiers who had died in our camp. There were seven of them including Subedar Joginder Singh, who had been awarded a PVC. We were told by the Chinese that he had refused to have his toes, which were affected by frost-bite, amputated. According to the Chinese, he had told them that his chances of promotion to Subedar Major would be adversely effected if his toes were amputated. We were told that he died of gangrene.
On 28 March, we left the camp, ironically in an Indian captured vehicle and were driven to Tsetang to pick up Brig John Dalvi and three other Lt. Colonels and five Majors. On 29th March, we were all driven in a bus to Lhasa. On 5 April, we were flown in two IL 14 aircrafts to Xining [Qinghai Province]. After a long tour of China, during which we were shown China’s ‘progress’ after the Communist revolution, we were informed on 27 April that we shall be handed over to India at Kunming on 4 May.
At the handing over ceremony, we witnessed a last surprise performance by the Chinese. Throughout our tour of China, an immaculately dressed Chinese had accompanied us. He was not dressed in cotton padded clothes like all the others. He commanded a lot of respect from the other Chinese. We used to refer to him as the ‘General’. He had a chap trailing around behind him always, helping him with things, offering a chair, a cup of tea, etc. We used to refer to that fellow as the orderly to the General. At the handing over ceremony, however, the person who sat down and signed on behalf of China was the ‘orderly’ and the one who stood behind to pass him the pen to sign was the ‘general’! Such are the Chinese ways!
On May 5, we took off at 9.10 a.m. from Kunming and were scheduled to land at Calcutta at 1.20 p.m. Before reaching Calcutta, the pilot announced that there was some problem with the under carriage not opening and that we might have to crash land, finally we landed ultimately at 2.30 p.m. at Dum Dum with all the fire tenders lined up. It would have been such an irony of fate if we had been killed in a crash landing in India!
In my opinion, the Chinese had prepared their attack for at least 2 or 3 years. I can give you few examples: one day a Chinese woman came and recited some of Bahadur Shah Zafar's poems, much to our delight. The Chinese had certainly prepared for this war most diligently because they had interpreters for every Indian language right in the front line. This Urdu-speaking woman must have lived in Lucknow for a long time. Same thing for one of our guards, though he had not said a single word for 5 months (we used to call him Poker Face), we discovered that he could speak perfect Punjabi when he left us in Kunming.
Their constant brainwashing was to make us accept that we had attacked them.

Bunker near Namkha chu

Bunker Bunker near Namkha chu

Bunker near Namkha chu

Namjiang chu with Thagla ridge in the background

Namkha chu (river). Thagla ridge was held by the Chinese.

Tsangdhar dropping zone

Radio set found on the battle field  near the Namkha chu

A Soldier with Two Wives

To commemorate 60 years of the 1962 Sino-Indian War, till the end of the month, I will post everyday a new article related to the conflict.
I start today with an article on the 'sparrow' of the 7th Brigade, Brig Lakshman Singh who recently passed away...


Brigadier Lakshman Singh (commission on June 2, 1955) passed away yesterday morning at his home in Greater NOIDA. He was one of the stalwarts of the Corps of Signals, who  performed a stellar role during the 1962 war when he was the OC Signal Section of 7 Infantry Brigade which bore the brunt of the Chinese attack. He has written about his experiences during the war in his books:  A Soldier’s Journey Through Life With Two Wives and Letters From the Border and Other Less Told Stories.
I had written about him some ten years ago.

My article
Lakshman Singh, a slim young captain had two wives when, in May 1962, he was told to join the ill-fated 7 Infantry Brigade on the Namkha chu (river) of the then North East Frontier Agency (NEFA); clouds had been gathering on the Indo-China border.
Many officers and jawans must have been in his case. One wife was the ‘regular’ one; the other one was the Indian Army.
Many decades later, after retiring as a Brigadier, Lakshman Singh wrote his memoirs A Soldier’s journey through life with two wives.
The young Captain was in love with Rosy, his life partner, but could not refuse the tough assignment. He was to man the communications of Brig. John Dalvi’s Brigade in the inaccessible terrain of Western NEFA, then known as Kameng FD (Frontier Division), today Tawang district of Arunachal Pradesh.
Torn between his two loves, Lakshman decided that the least he could do was to write a daily letter to his other wife Rosy (he calls her ‘Jeet’) who was left alone in Dehra Dun.
Fifty years later, Lakshman Singh still remembers his journey to the unknown, from the hot plains to the mountainous land, far away from his ‘first’ wife: “After a couple of days stay at Misamari (Assam), the Brigade rear was moving higher and higher and farther away from Jeet.”
A place known as Foothills was the entry point to Kameng FD. To reach the Tenga Valley, today’s main Army garrison in the area, it took a six-hour torturous drive.

Prayer Flags on a mast

Driving through the tiny village of Chako, the jeep driver suddenly stopped. Lakshman thought that the engine needed a bit of rest after the first hours of steep climb. Two young good-looking girls appeared on the scene: “Sir, would you like a good tea”. To show his own importance, the driver told the girls: “Yes, give tea to our Captain Sahib, he is joining his regiment in Tawang as a signal in-charge”. Lakshman still remembers the “two pretty girls of indeterminate race.”
Today he admits: “It was later discovered that they were Chinese spies, complete with a wireless transmitter; the antenna was cunningly hidden and well camouflaged in the tall bamboo, replete with the ubiquitous prayer flags fluttering gently in the cold mountain breeze spreading the message of peace around.”
This incident resumes the state of intelligence and counter-intelligence of the Indian side on the eve of the Chinese attack. The teashop was located at a very strategic location ‘with the girls in attendance’, explains Lakshman: “it was the proverbial magnet which worked like a dream. The chitchats by the girls with the soldiers, hungry for and denied of female company for long, only too willing to open up during the halts, provided them with all the intelligence they required on the movement and deployment of troops.”
This explains how Mao Zedong had the intelligence required to prepare his attack on the Indian positions on October 20.
The Great Helmsman told his colleagues of the Standing Committee of the Politburo on October 6: “It seems like armed coexistence won’t work. It’s just as we expected. Nehru really wants to use force. This isn’t strange. He has always wanted to seize Aksai Chin and Thagla Ridge. He thinks he can get everything he desires.”
Mao had been ‘informed’ that Lt. Gen. Kaul to decided to take back the Thagla ridge from the Chinese during an ‘Operation Leghorn’ which was to start on October 10.
Today Lakshman realizes: “my arrival would been reported to those concerned even before I reached Tawang.”
Unfortunately it was not only him; every officer remembers the ‘chai’ with the sweet girls.
The jeep continued its uneventful journey through grandiose scenery passing the small towns of Bomdila and Dirang on the way to the majestic Sela Pass; here they had to break their journey. The Signaler started writing to Jeet: “The journey till now had been incredible, mostly a roller-coaster ride. The road climbing to dizzy heights, as it wound up the mountains, disappearing into moist fog and mist, the overworked engine whining as the jeep climbed uphill and then it rushed back down the valley with the driver's foot on the brake pedle, the brakes making a screeching sound, to emerge from the whiteout.”
After finally crossing the pass, they rushed down to Jang, the village at the bottom of Sela and a couple of hours later, they finally had the darshan of the majestic Tawang monastery: “Out of breath and struggling after having come straight from the plains of Assam, totally unacclimatized to the height, the cold and the rarefied atmosphere, I huffed and puffed up the steep trail making slow progress. Completely exhausted, I somehow made it to the Brigade Officers living area just as it was getting dark.”

Tawang Monastery

During the first months in Tawang the young officer could relax, “life was boring and of routine nature… We were like prisoners albeit prisoners of peace.” They were told from the ‘highest intelligence sources’ that the Chinese were not in a position to take any offensive action… till the railway line to Lhasa was ready.” Everybody believed it.
But things changed after September 8. It was a Saturday.
That day, Lakshman was on leave; when he returned to the HQ, he felt a tension in the air. He quickened his pace. He remembers “unease in the atmosphere. Something was wrong, very wrong.”
He soon discovered that some 600 Chinese soldiers had surrounded the Dhola Post on the Namkha chu.
They would later realize that the Chinese always attacked on Saturday, when Indian senior officers would have a well-deserved beer in the mess or were attending an important dancing party at an Army’s club of Delhi, Lucknow (Command HQ) or Tezpur (Corps HQ).
In the morning of September 8, 1962, Chinese launched their first offensive. The Official Report of the Ministry of Indian Defence says: “troops were noticed moving across the Namkha Chu in the Tawang sector. In a few hours about forty of them crossed the river, virtually surrounded Dhola and threatened the small post manned by troops from 9 Punjab.” There was panic in the Indian camp.
The retired Brigadier is today bitter. He speaks about the lack of proper of appreciation: “The Commanders are supposed to prepare an appreciation of the situation, what is the threat, who is the enemy, etc”. At that time the appreciation was that the Chinese were not ready, unless they bring a railway line from Beijing to Lhasa. When asked who is to blame, Lakshman Singh bluntly says; “B.N. Mullik, the IB Director was a dope. He is responsible for the debacle. He kept saying that the Chinese won’t attack but China attacked us; unfortunately intelligence did not come from God, but from Mullik”.
Lakshman recalls: “The scene would have definitely appeared a bit comical to an outsider, ideal for a sequence in the war movies being produced in Bombay. Suddenly Hindi Chini Bhai Bhai became Hindi Chini bye bye”.
Everything suddenly changed; from its “well entrenched position for the protection of Tawang”, the Brigade was tasked to relieve the Dhola post and drive the Chinese out of the Indian territory. Poor Lakshman, he would not see Rosy soon: “And there went my holiday plans flying out of the window. What a disappointment!”.

Brigade HQ in Tawang

It was a particularly painful for the signalers who had to work over long distances (from Army HQ in Delhi to Dhola post on the Namkha chu) through the most difficult terrain with antiquated equipment.
During the following month, the 7 Infantry Brigade never received a single written order, recalls Lakshman Singh. The only thing which was heard was “challo! lay a line; move forward”. The General Commanding Officer (GOC 4 Division Commander) kept telling his Brigade Commander (Dalvi): ‘Go forward’.
Maj. Gen. Niranjan Prasad, the GOC himself was getting frantic calls from the Corps Commander: ‘go to Tawang’; once in Tawang, he was told: ‘What are you doing here, go to Lumpu’, and so on, to the Namkha chu.
Then the new Corps Commander (Lt. Gen. B.M. Kaul) arrived one day at 4 pm, things then changed for the worse: “I am the GOC 4 Corps,” Kaul introduced himself. Nobody had heard of this 4 Corps; it was an adhoc creation to kick the Chinese out. Kaul was shouting: “move forward, I will sack whoever does not immediately move forward” There was total chaos. But the officers and soldiers had been trained to obey and not to question; and they all obeyed.
On October 19, the day before the attack, Lakshman was on the Namkha chu; he remembers Brig. Dalvi being told by the 4 Division’s GOC to send a platoon of Gorkhas to Tsangle (north of the river). Dalvi told his boss: “No, Sir, the Chinese will attack tomorrow, let me withdraw to a safer place. If you don’t agree, Sir, I am prepared to resign”. But it was too late.

The next morning, the Chinese attacked. At 4:30 am, after the shelling had started, Lakshman managed to speak for a few minutes to his CO, Lt. Col. K.K. Tewari, who himself was in the bunker further ahead on the banks of the Namkha chu. The Chinese had come down the ridge opposite the river a couple of days earlier (though the Indian troops were still told that China won’t attack). For a few minutes Tewari, gave a vivid running commentary about the Chinese surrounding him when suddenly all communications were cut. That was the end of Nehru’s grandiose plans to throw the Chinese out and the beginning of the most harrowing experience for the hapless 7 Brigade and India.
During the few next hours and days chaos prevailed. Some units fought heroically, more that 500 jawans and officers lost their lives on the Namkha chu alone; some managed to escape.
Lakshman trekked his way back to India via Bhutan. Rosy did not get any letters for a few days.
Fifty years later, he strongly feels that “at the time of duty, when the country is calling, personal issues should be set aside; one should totally concentrate on one’s profession. My profession (of soldier) always came first; this has been my Philosophy of Life”.
He was madly in love with his true wife, but duty came first when he had to serve his country.

'Legal education' on India's border with Tibet

Lebu village, north of the McMahon Line

The Communist website chinanews.com announced: 'Tibet Sets up Night Schools for Monba [Monpa] Ethnic Group’.
It quotes the local authorities in Cona [Tsona] county of Lhoka prefecture, who said that “night schools [will] offer courses on cultural knowledge every Friday, which greatly enhanced the literacy level of the locals.”
The report refers to an area, north of Tawang district of Arunachal Pradesh (close to the McMahon line). The last Indian post is located at Khenzimane and the first Tibetan village (mentioned in the article) is Lebu, both villages on the western bank of the Nyamjang chu (river).
The article explains that the Monpa “ethnic group is one of the 56 ethnic groups in China with a population of 50,000. Most of the Monpas live in Tibet’s Lhoka and Nyingchi Prefecture [of Tibet].”
The website does not mention the Monpas living in Tawang district in India.
It however admits that while “the living condition of Monpas has risen considerably due to the development policy for minorities, [however] trapped by the bad traffic and communication [sic], the literacy rate is a little low.”
What is amazing is that this admission comes at time when China speaks of a ‘huge dispute’ with India over Arunachal Pradesh and that it is an ‘undeniable fact’.
The sharp tongue of Hua Chunying, China’s foreign ministry spokesperson recently asserted: “There is a huge dispute in the eastern China-India border. This is an undeniable fact. …China always holds a consistent and clear position on the boundary question. The two sides should make joint efforts to maintain peace tranquility of the border area and create favourable conditions for the negotiation of the boundary question."
Though China continues to claim Arunachal Pradesh as an 'undeniable' part of Tibet (and China), it is surprising that local Communist cadres in the border of Arunachal admit ‘low rate of the literacy’ amongst the Monpas.
Wang Weixi, the director of a police station in Lebu Township [village?] of Tsona county told chinanews.com that “the night school established by the police station has made great use of the human resources and facilities. The officers will open courses to promote legal knowledge in the residents’ leisure time.”
What ‘legal knowledge’ is Wang speaking about?
Is the course on the 1962 War (Lebu village is located a few kilometers away from the Thagla ridge, which saw the first Chinese attack on October 20, 1962)?
Does Wang mean ‘political’ literacy?
In what do the Monpas need to be ‘legally educated’?
At the same time, the White Paper 'on the development path of Tibet', praises China for Tibet's progresses in every fields, especially in education:

There has been comprehensive development in Tibet's education, health and social security. The region took the lead in China to provide its residents with a 15-year free education (three-year preschool, six-year primary school, three-year junior middle school and three-year senior middle school); 99.59 percent of school-age children are enrolled at primary level; the gross enrollment rates for junior middle school and senior middle school have reached 98.75 percent and 72.23 percent, respectively. The quality of the population is also improving. Illiteracy has been wiped out among the young and the middle-aged, and the average length of time spent in education for people above the age of 15 has reached 8.1 years.

Illiteracy has been eradicated elsewhere in Tibet, but not for the Monpas?
Why do they need ‘legal knowledge’?
According to chinanews.com, Richen, a 27-year-old Monpa youth, knows little about legal knowledge. He is quoted as saying that after the training at the night school, he learns about basic legal knowledge.
The website adds: “A small library was built in Lebu Township in 2013. It opens to public every Saturday. More and more local people borrow books from the library and most of them form reading habits.”
Could the Monpas tempted to cross over to India, therefore the need to be 'legally educated?
It could be one of the reasons behind the Friday night's classes at Lebu Police Station.

How Nehru's proteges messed it up

The War Memorial in Tawang (Arunachal Pradesh)

This article is dedicated to all those who died during the 1962 Sino-Indian war; to those who suffered for months in the PoW camps in Tibet; to those who were humiliated for no fault of theirs; to their families.
Let us hope that what happened in 1962 will never happened again.

Two years ago, I wrote an article on the Henderson Brooks Report for The Indian Defence Review (Issue Vol. 27.2 Apr-Jun 2012). The title was “Why the Henderson-Brooks report has never been released!”
My conclusion was that one of the reasons for the famous report, written by the Anglo-Indian General Henderson Brooks, not to be released by the Government of India, was that in the early months of 1962, the Army Headquarters had some doubts about where the frontier with Tibet was.
Under political pressure, they nevertheless foolishly went ahead and established a post at Dhola near the disputed Thagla ridge. It was the perfect excuse for the People’s Liberation Army to go to war against an unprepared India.
I then quoted from The Fall of Towang [Tawang], by Major General Niranjan Prasad, the Commander of 4 Infantry Division, who thus described the setting of the operations:
“The McMahon Line from just north of Khinzemane, as drawn by Sir Henry McMahon in 1914 with a thick blue pencil on an unsurveyed map, was not an accurate projection of the Himalayan watershed line. Much of the territory in those days had not been explored and McMahon was only guessing at geography when he drew a thick blue [red] line from Khinzemane to the Bhutan-Tibet-India tri-junction to its east. In this process the position of Thagla Ridge was, to say the least, left ambiguous.
The story goes that the officer surveying the area had completed an admirable task of delineating the watershed up to this point when a pretty Monpa girl claimed his attention and the work was left uncompleted. Whatever the reason, the survey authorities, ignoring physical features on the ground, joined Point MM 7914 to the India-Bhutan-Tibet tri-junction by a straight line. Stranger still, the Government of India had not corrected this obvious mistake even in 1962. Clearly someone in External Affairs had not done his home work. This lapse cannot be easily excused or explained away. It was largely responsible for the critical dispute which later developed and eventually led to war.”
Though the Thagla Ridge was the logical border if one followed the watershed principle as well as the ownership of customary pastures’ rights, the fact remains that the old map which was the reference for India’s position on the ‘genuine’ location of the border, showed the Thagla Ridge and the Namkha Chu, North of the 1914 McMahon Line.
As Major General Prasad said, this lapse had unfortunately not been corrected after India’s independence. The Chinese must have known the doubts of the local Indian Army commanders. In his memoirs, Prasad recalls: “From our own Signals channels I had received reports of a pirate radio operating somewhere in our area, but when we referred this to higher authorities the matter was dismissed.”
It could explain how Mao was aware of Operation Leghorn to evict the Chinese from the Thagla Ridge (north of the Dhola post) in October 1962.
This explains that the Government of India was not keen to show that the 4 Corps Commander (earlier Chief of General Staff in the army Headquarters), Lt. General BM Kaul, a special appointee (and protégé) of Prime Minister Nehru, was not only unsure where the frontier with Tibet was, but took the risk to set up a post in a place which could be north of the border. The Prime Minister was too busy solving the problems of the world to look into these ‘small’ details.
But it was enough for China to have a pretext to attack India a few months later (October 20, 1962). The rest is (sad) history.
Today, we know the guilty men of 1962. It is a step forward for the nation.

Excerpts from the Henderson-Brooks-Bhagat Report released by Neville Maxwell, author of India’s China War.

Brig John Dalvi's map of the Operations in Thagla ridge sector

Background of the Establishment of Dhola Post in NEFA
22- As the Dhola Post was the focus of the start of the Sino-Indian hostilities in NEFA, it is important that the background to the establishment of the Dhola Post is given in some detail.

23- Till the introduction of the ‘Forward Policy’’ in December 1961, the policy in NEFA in regard to activities in the vicinity of the McMahon Line was as under:

“No patrolling except defensive patrolling is to be permitted within two to three miles of the McMahon Line. In case a post has been established within two miles of the McMahon Line, in accordance with paragraph 2 above, then defensive patrolling is permissible in the vicinity of this post”. Para 2 if the letter laid down that, under certain conditions, post could be established NOT more than 2 miles as the crow flies from the McMahon Line. (Headquarters Eastern Command letter No. 120901/20/A/GS(O) of 9 June 1960 – Annexure 40).

24- The Chinese in June 1961 had, it appeared, patrolled across the McMahon Line some 3 – 4 miles West of Khinzamane [also written Khenzimane] and had shown interest in the area. Thus, in March 1962, with the approaching of the patrolling seasons, Eastern Command, on the subject from XXXIII Corps, asked Army Headquarters for permission to patrol the area of the McMahon Line West of Khinzamane.

25- On 27 April 1962, Army Headquarters gave their permission for patrolling as well as establishing news posts upto the McMahon Line, without prior sanction (Army Headquarters letter NO. 67045/GS/MO1 of 27 April 19562 – Annexure 41).

26- Originally, the intention of the establishing a post West of Khinzamane was to establish one at the Bhutan-India-Tibet Tri Junction, as given in the maps existing in May 1962. (Refer Para 15 above). These maps showed the Tri Junction at MM 7914.

27- The border in the map did not run along the watershed but was an arbitrary one running due West from Khinzamane. The watershed line and the old line are given in sketch. The watershed Tri junction is some four miles north of the one given in the maps then existing.

28- The post for various reasons was not established at the old Tri Junction, but Dhola MM 8316. Capt Mahabir Prasad of 1 Sikh selected and established the Dhola Post with a strength of one platoon of Assam Rifles on 4 June 1962.

Details of the Dhola Post

29- In August 1962, XXXIII Corps brought to the notice of the Eastern Command the discrepancy between the arbitrary line drawn on the map and the line as it should be according to the watershed principle. (Annexure 42). This letter is important, as it gave the details of the two boundary lines. The main points are given below: (For the location of various features see Sketch H).

a-   The boundary line printed on the maps had considerable inaccuracies, if the watershed principles and usage were to be applied.

b-   According to local inhabitants (grazers) and the political representatives who accompanied the Assam Rifles to the Dhola Post, the accepted/recognized boundary was the one based in the watershed principle. (The letter did not specify as to who accepted/recognized the boundary line). It was however, common knowledge that the McMahon Line was based on the watershed principle. The Tri-junction, according to the watershed principle, should be MM 7522 and not as shown on the map MM 7914.

c-   There were three important approaches on the watershed boundary that lead into our area between Khinzamane and the recommended Tri-Juntion MM 7533. The approaches were as under:

(i) Thagla MM 8717

(ii) Karpola II MM 8321

(iii) Mamdangla MM 7822

(iv) XXXIII Corps recommended that one post should be established at Thagla and another at the Tsangle MM 7719 to cover the other two passes. Tsangle, as can be seen, according to the old boundary, was in Bhutan. (Bhutan, incidentally did raise this question in October, when a representative of their approached Corps Headquarters).

(e) The letter went on to give recommendations for establishing these posts and also asked for a survey to be carried out. Pending approval o the recommendations, it was intended to carry out patrolling between Khinzamane and the Watershed Tri-junction.

(f) The last paragraph of the letter is of some importance and is reproduced below:

“It will be seen from Sketch P attached (Sketch H of this review) that Dhola Post grid reference (MM 8513), as reported earlier, is not correct and should be MM 8316. However, to avoid alarm and queries from all concerned, it is proposed to continue using the present grid reference in the location statement situation report until such a time the case is finally decided by you. We hope its meets with your approval.”

This, in effect, meant that the post was actually NORTH of the McMahon Line as the marked on the map. The location as given out MM 8513 was just SOUTH and MM 8816 just NORTH of the Line. (Though the sketch showed this, the letter was not clear, and it was never really expressly brought out till 12 September 1962).

30- Eastern Command conveyed the contents of this letter to Army Headquarters on 31 August, 1962.

31- An incident of some interest to the above recommendations had occurred in the meantime and requires note. A Subsidiary Intelligence Bureau representative, on a reconnaissance of the area of Thagla Ridge had found a wooden plank on 23 May 1962 with Chinese characters. These were later translated at Tezpur and read “This is our river and mountain”. This was conveyed to 4 Infantry Division by XXXIII Corps, Eastern Command and Army Headquarters on 12 July 1962. (Annexure 43).

This then was another pointer that Namka Chu and the Thagla Ridge were sensitive areas.

32- On September 1962, as is well known, Dhola Post was surrounded by the Chinese, who, by the evening, were reported to be some 600 strong in the area.

The Sumdorong Chu Incident: a strong Indian stand

A few years ago, I wrote an article on the India, China and Tibet relations in which I mentioned the Sumdorong Chu incident in 1987.
The strong stand then taken by the Indian Army allowed the visit of Rajiv Gandhi to Beijing to be rather successful a year later. The Indian Prime Minister could discuss from a respectable position with Deng Xiaoping and his colleagues.
It is not the case today, if Mr Khurshid decides to go to China.

Extracts of my article:
We have mentioned the Sumdorong Chu confrontation in NEFA (soon to be Arunachal Pradesh). To appreciate better the respective positions, it is necessary to give the background of the stand-off.
In July 1986, at the time the 7th round of border talks was to be held, the Indian media flashed the news that Chinese incursions had occurred into the Sumdorong Chu valley in NEFA. Early 1987, large-scale troop movements were reported on both sides of the McMahon Line. For many, there was the possibility of a new war between India and China.
Sumdorong Chu (the Indian post was known as the Wangdung IB under the Zimithang circle of Tawang district), is a small river flowing west-east into the Nyamjang Chu in the Thagla triangle bounded by Bhutan in the west and the Thagla ridge to the north.
On June 26, 1986, the Government of India lodged a formal protest with Beijing against the Chinese intrusions. Beijing immediately denied any such intrusions, stating that the valley belonged to China.
The area which witnessed the first clashes during the 1962 conflict was for years considered as a sort of neutral area, however in the early 1980s the Indian Army had reinforced its positions in the forward areas.
During the summer of 1984, India had established an observation post on the bank of Sumdorong Chu. It was to be manned by the Special Security Bureau (SSB) during the summer and vacated in the winter.
In June 1986, an Indian patrol found some 40 Chinese working on permanent structures. Soon some 200 men reinforcements arrived on the spot. By August after the Chinese had constructed a helipad, the Indian Army took a more aggressive stand along the entire front in the NEFA.
In September, in order to diffuse the tension Delhi suggested that, if the Chinese accepted to withdraw their forces during the coming winter, India would not re-occupy the area following summer. The proposal was flatly rejected by Beijing.
Delhi reacted swiftly, by October, an entire Indian Army brigade was airlifted to Zimithang, the closest helipad.
It is known as Operation Falcon. In its obituary (Warrior as Scholar) of General K. Sundarji, then Army Chief, India Today wrote: “Sundarji's place in history will probably rest on the lesser-known Operation Falcon. Spooked by the Chinese occupation of Sumdorong Chu in 1986, Sundarji used the air force's new air-lift capability to land a brigade in Zimithang, north of Tawang. Indian forces took up positions on the Hathung La ridge, across the Namka Chu river, the site of India's humiliating 1962 defeat and manned defences across the McMahon Line. Taken aback, the Chinese responded with a counter-build-up and in early 1987 Beijing's tone became ominously similar to that of 1962. Western diplomats predicted war and Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi's advisers charged that Sundarji's recklessness was responsible for this. But the general stood firm, at one point telling a senior Rajiv aide, 'Please make alternate arrangements if you think you are not getting adequate professional advice'. The civilians backed off, so did the Chinese.”
In October, Deng Xiaoping warned India that China would have to ‘teach India a lesson’. This was conveyed by the US Defense Secretary.
In the meantime, in December 1986, Arunachal Pradesh became a full-fledged State of the Indian Union. This angered China further.
The spring and summer of 1987 media reported heavy troop movements on both sides of the border. The Tibetan Review mentioned: “All recent visitors from Tibet report fresh and hectic Chinese military activities on the Tibetan frontier adjoining India. A large number of troops are being sent there as what is being termed ‘troop replacement operation’. However, so far no one has witnessed corresponding withdrawal of troops already stationed there. …The Chinese military and civil personnel are given a call to proceed with three top-priority preparations: to prepare urgently for a military offensive; to stockpile foodgrains and other necessary materials; and to be ready for construction projects. More and more unemployed but able-bodied young Tibetans are being recruited for heavy manual work. They are paid 300 yuans (about US $ 60) a month and told their services will be called when the need arises. China is said to have moved in 20,000 troops from the 53rd Army Corps in Chengdu and the 13th Army in Lanzhou in the first months of 1987 along with artillery and helicopters. By early April, it had moved 8 divisions to eastern Tibet.”
India continued her built-up during the first months of 1987 with a massive air-land exercise known as Exercise Chequerboard which involved several divisions of the Army and several squadrons of the IAF.
The Indian External Affairs Minister’s visit to China in May 1987 helped lowering the tensions. Beijing and Delhi reaffirmed their desire to continue the on-going talks on the border. A few months later, the Indian and Chinese troops began to slowly withdraw from their positions in the Sumdorong Chu area.
Former Indian Army Chief, General V.N. Sharma, then Army Commander (Eastern Command) remembers: “We were on our territory and any withdrawal orders by government or army headquarters would be considered illegal as the army was tasked to defend India’s border.”
As in 1967 in Sikkim, India had taken a strong stand and shown the Chinese that they could no more bluff their way through into Indian territory. The Chinese leadership had earlier always considered India to be a weak nation. The former Army Chief added: “It was with renewed confidence that Rajiv Gandhi could plan his visit to China.”
In 1988, Rajiv Gandhi became the first Indian Prime Minister to visit China after his grandfather Jawaharlal Nehru, who had gone to Beijing in October 1954 at the peak of the Hindi Chini Bhai-Bhai romance. Though Rajiv Gandhi once again conceded that Tibet was considered by India as an autonomous region of China, his visit had the merit of reopening a dialogue at the highest level after decades of mistrust and hatred.

'I was, I am, and will remain anti-Chinese'

Part II of my interview with Brig. Amar Jit Singh Behl.

'I know by experience that they can put a dagger in our back at any time...'
'It was a state of total chaos. Nobody knew what was happening. The fog of war was so thick that nobody could see anything... It is an experience which marked everybody's life.'
Brigadier Amarjit Singh Behl (retd), then a second lieutenant, and his men fought to the end before being taken prisoners of war by the Chinese in the 1962 Indo-China war.
Then a 21 year old, the soldier looks back at a war fought in extremely difficult circumstances and life as a Chinese PoW in this interview to Rediff.com's Claude Arpi.

Did they capture a lot of arms and ammunitions?

They must have; also trucks and other equipment from south of Tawang till the Assam border. As far as the 7 Brigade is concerned, it was totally and entirely an on-foot battle. A battle of the fit men only!
From Tawang to Bridge III, it was between 5 and 7 days walk. You had to be strong and I was strong, I was only 21 years old.
With my boys, I walked from Ziminthang to Tsangdhar in 16 hours only.
On October 21, we were kept near the helipad and I saw the two officers who had been killed near their chopper. I went to the Chinese officers who had interpreters in English and Hindi (while in the Chinese prisoner of war camp, they also would speak Gorkhali and Punjabi).

Chopper of Sq Lrd Sehgal and Major Ram Singh

I asked this officer, I want to bury these officers; after I insisted, he said 'Alright'. With two of my boys, we dug a 2-feet trench and buried Major Ram Singh and Squadron Leader Sehgal. We saluted them.
The next night (October 21-22) we stayed on there.
On the 22nd morning, we walked till Bridge III on the Namkha chu where we stayed for the night. Then we went to Khenzimane (the Indo-Tibet border) and the next day, we reached Le village on Nyamjiang chu in Tibet.
We stayed for two days in Le and moved to Marmang where we spent two nights before being taken in trucks to the PoW's camp near Tsetang in central Tibet.

Read on...

1962: Two wives, pretty spies & a brave soldier

My story of Brigadier Lakshman Singh, Signal Officer of the 7 Infantry Brigade during the battle of Namkha chu (river) in October 1962 is posted on sify.com.

Lakshman Singh, a slim young captain had two wives when, in May 1962, he was told to join the ill-fated 7 Infantry Brigade on the Namkha Chu river of the then North East Frontier Agency (NEFA).
Clouds had been gathering on the Indo-China border.
Many officers and jawans must have been in his position: One wife was the girl he married; The other one was the Indian Army.
Many decades later, after retiring as a Brigadier, Lakshman Singh wrote his memoirs, A Soldier’s Journey Through Life With Two Wives.
The young Captain was in love with Rosy, his life partner, but could not refuse the tough assignment. He was to man the communications of Brig. John Dalvi’s Brigade in the inaccessible terrain of Western NEFA, then known as Kameng FD (Frontier Division), now the Tawang district of Arunachal Pradesh.
Torn between his two loves, Lakshman decided that the least he could do was to write a daily letter to his other wife Rosy (he calls her ‘Jeet’) who was left alone in Dehra Dun.

Click here to read on...

1962 — lest we forget on CNN-IBN

This report of 1962 war, with my interview will be on air 

on Saturday 8:30 pm and Sunday 12 noon and 9:00 pm. ( October 20 and 21)

The arrogant men of 1962

The 1962 debacle against China is a story of arrogance.
Defence Minister Krishna Menon was undoubtedly the most arrogant man of the subcontinent, but there are many other arrogant personae in the saga of 1962. One was B.N. Mullik, the Intelligence Chief (IB Director) who kept repeating at nauseam: ‘The Chinese will not attack’; then Lt. Gen. B.M. Kaul who announced to the world that a new Corps (4 Corps), composed of himself and a couple of staff officers would have no problem to get the Chinese out.
And of course the Prime Minister himself who, at Palam airport on his way to Colombo, told the waiting journalists that he had ordered the Indian Army “to throw the Chinese out”. He generously left the time to the discretion of the Army. It was on October 12, 1962, just 8 days before the fateful day.
But throw the Chinese out from where?
Nobody knew exactly where the border was.
When a young Captain, Mahabir Prasad of the 1 Sikhs established the Dhola Post near the Namkha chu (river) at the end of July, he was told by a local officer that the Thagla ridge, north of the river was the border (incidentally Prasad was killed on October 20). Niranjan Prasad, the GOC of the 4 Infantry Division manning the border wrote in his memoirs: “Since Captain Prasad’s maps showed the McMahon Line as passing to the south of Thagla, he did not act on the information. Instead, on return to base, he referred the matter Divisional HQs. We, in turn reported to Corps, Command and Army HQ (in Delhi).”
One does not need to be Inspector Jacques Clouseau to discover why the famous Henderson-Brooks report has been kept out of the eyes of the Indian public for fifty years. Simple, the bosses in Delhi were unable to tell the local commanders where the border was.
A few months after the debacle, the Indian Government requested Lt. Gen. Henderson-Brooks to prepare a report of the events which led to the fiasco. Although extracts were read out in the Parliament by Y.B. Chavan, the Defence Minister in 1963, the gist of the report remains missing in action.
In 2008, answering a question on the Report, Defence Minister A.K. Antony told the Indian Parliament that the report could not be made public because its contents “are not only extremely sensitive, but are of current operational value.”
Nobody will believe that a 49 year-old report is still of ‘operational value’.
In 2005, veteran journalist Kuldip Nayar had requested, under the RTI, the Ministry of Defence a copy of the Report.
During the hearings of the Commission in March 2009, the Defence Ministry articulated the official stand: “Disclosure of this information …has a direct bearing on the question of the demarcation of the Line of Actual Control between India and China, a live issue under examination between the two countries at present.”
On March 19, 2010, in a ‘decision notice’, the Central Information Commission states: “no part of the report might at this stage be disclosed.”
On October 6, Mao had told his Party’s colleagues: “Nehru really wants to use force. This isn't strange. He has always wanted to seize Aksai Chin and Thagla ridge. He thinks he can get everything he desires.”
Though there was no question of the Indian Army ‘attacking China’ with no food, no warm clothes, no armament or ammunition supply, the Chinese seemed to have perceived the situation differently.
Was Mao looking for a pretext?
In his memoirs, Niranjan Prasad describes the setting: “The McMahon Line as drawn by Sir Henry McMahon in 1914 on an unsurveyed map, was not an accurate projection of the Himalayan watershed line. …In this process the position of Thagla ridge was, to say the least, left ambiguous.”
The survey had been completed in 1913 by Captains Bailey and Morshead, but it was rather sketchy (1 inch to 8 miles).
If one follows the watershed principle, the Thagla ridge was the logical border, but the fact remains that the old map which was the reference for India’s position on the location of the McMahon Line, showed the Thagla ridge and the Namkha Chu, north of the Red Line. Further surveys were unfortunately not conducted after India’s independence.
On 14 August, 1962, Brigadier D.K. Palit, Director of Military Operations was told about the issue; he later recalled that he referred the Thagla dilemma to the Director of Military Survey who “commented that the existing maps of the area were 'sketchy and inaccurate, having been compiled from unreliable sources.”
By then, it was already too late to go back; the arrogant main actors in Delhi had taken over.
The fact that the Chinese attack occurred simultaneously in all sectors (Tawang, Walong in NEFA and Ladakh) is proof that the operations had been prepared well in advance by the Communist regime in Beijing, which did not really need a pretext.

You do not invite crisis that you cannot tackle

Nehru visiting the troops... after the War

My article You do not invite crisis that you cannot tackle appeared in The Pioneer on November 3.

Mao needed a pretext ‘to teach India a lesson'. Some senior officers of the Indian Army and the country’s politicians offered it to him, which is why 1962 happened.

One of the reasons why the Sino-Indian conflict has remained a deep scar in the nation’s psyche is that very few people know what exactly happened on the slopes of the Thagla ridge in October 1962, though one does not need to be Inspector Jacques Clouseau to discover why the famous Henderson-Brooks report has been kept out of the eyes of the Indian public for 50 years. The reason is simple: In 1962, the bosses in New Delhi were unable to tell the local commanders where the border in the Tawang/ Ziminthang sector was.
A few months after the debacle, the Union Government requested Lt Gen Henderson-Brooks and Brigadier Prem Bhagat (HBB) to prepare a report of the events which led to the fiasco. Many have since asked: “What on earth has stopped the Government to open the HBB report to the public?”
Between 1962 and 1965, RD Pradhan was then Defence Minister YB Chavan’s Private Secretary. In his memoirs, he provides some insights on the issue: “Chavan was apprehensive that the committee may cast aspersions on the role of the Prime Minister or the Defence Minister.” Mr Pradhan adds: “(Chavan’s) main worry was to find ways to defend the government and at the same time to ensure that the morale of the armed forces was not further adversely affected.” Mr Pradhan concluded: “Chavan earned the gratitude of the Prime Minister.” Was it by classifying the HBB report forever?
In 2008, answering a question on the HBB Report, Defence Minister AK Antony told the Indian Parliament that the report could not be made public because an internal study by the Army had established that its contents “are not only extremely sensitive, but are of current operational value.” Nobody will believe that a 49 year-old report is still of ‘operational value’.
In 2005, veteran journalist and former MP Kuldip Nayar requested, under the RTI, the Ministry of Defence for a copy of the report.
During the hearings of the Commission in March 2009, the Defence Ministry articulated the official stand: “Disclosure of this information will amount to disclosure of the army’s operational strategy in the North-East and the discussion on deployments has a direct bearing on the question of the demarcation of the Line of Actual Control between India and China, a live issue under examination between the two countries at present.”
On March 19, 2010, in a ‘decision notice’, the Central Information Commission states: “The disclosure of information of which the Henderson Brooks report carries considerable detail on what precipitated the war of 1962 between India and China will seriously compromise both security and the relationship between India & China.” As a result: “no part of the report might at this stage be disclosed.”
Inspector Clouseau would say: “I know that”.Let us return 50 years ago. In early October 1962, the Chinese military intelligence had gathered that Indian forces were planning to ‘attack China’ on the Thagla ridge on October 10 (Operation Leghorn). A few days earlier, Mao had told his Party’s colleagues: “It seems like armed coexistence won’t work. It’s just as we expected. Nehru really wants to use force. This isn’t strange. He has always wanted to seize Aksai Chin and Thagla ridge. He thinks he can get everything he desires.”
Though there was no question of the Indian Army ‘attacking China’ with no food, no warm clothes, no armament or ammunition supply, the Chinese seemed to have perceived the situation differently.
Was Mao looking for a pretext?
The answer is to be found in the accounts of senior Indian Army officers, the unwilling actors in the ‘Himalayan blunder’. Maj Gen Niranjan Prasad, the GOC of 4 Infantry Division in his book The Fall of Towang describes the setting: “The McMahon Line from just north of Khinzemane, as drawn by Sir Henry McMahon in 1914 with a thick blue [in fact, red] pencil on an unsurveyed map, was not an accurate projection of the Himalayan watershed line. …In this process the position of Thagla ridge was, to say the least, left ambiguous.”
The survey had been completed in 1913 by Capts Bailey and Morshead, but it is true that it was rather sketchy (one inch to eight miles). If one follows the watershed principle, the Thagla ridge was the logical border, but the fact remains that the old map which was the reference for India’s position on the location of the McMahon Line, showed the Thagla ridge and the Namkha Chu, north of the Red Line. Further surveys were unfortunately not conducted after India’s independence.
In 1960, the Government of India had mooted a new policy to establish posts right on the border; it was the famous ‘Forward Policy’. The siting of these posts and their exact location was, however, decided mainly by the Intelligence Bureau and not the Army.
The local Commanders (Corps, Division and Brigade) were not happy and they made it known, but nothing could stop the folly of the ‘authorities’ in Delhi.
Brig Dalvi recalled: “Many generals, including General Umrao Singh [33 Corps Commander], opposed the indiscriminate opening up of more posts. …The setting up of posts in disputed territory is a different matter. It is an act of rashness, whoever decreed it and with whatever authority, unless we had the means to settle the resultant dispute on the battlefield.”
As Maj Gen Niranjan Prasad noted, the local commanders had no choice, though they could certainly have resigned, but in an almost war situation, it was not an easy decision to take.
The Intelligence Bureau and its Director, BN Mullick had no clue about the exact position of the border and the Chinese preparations.
On 14 August, 1962, Brigadier DK Palit, Director of Military Operations visited the Corps Headquarters in Tezpur. He was told about the issue about the Line.
In his memoirs, War in the High Himalayas, Palit recalled the encounter: “On my return to Delhi I referred the Thagla dilemma to the Director of Military Survey. The latter commented that as the existing maps of the area were ‘sketchy and inaccurate, having been compiled from unreliable sources’… He confirmed that the recognised border was the watershed, but qualified this statement by adding ‘the exact alignment of [the border] will depend on accurate survey…it would take two to three years to complete’.”
When Palit enquired with S Gopal, the Director of the Historical Section, Gopal explained that since the boundary talks with the Chinese in 1960, the Government of India had been aware that the actual terrain in the area of the tri-junction was different from that depicted on the Simla map. But Palit adds: “What Gopal had not told me — and I found out only later — was that the Chinese had not accepted our arguments and had counter-claimed Thagla ridge, as Chinese territory.” By then, it was already too late to go back, at least for the egos of the main actors in Delhi.
Mao needed a pretext ‘to teach India a lesson’. Some senior Indian Army officers and politicians offered it to him. However, the fact that the Chinese attack occurred simultaneously in all sectors (Tawang, Walong in NEFA and Ladakh) is certainly proof that the operations had been prepared well in advance by the communist regime in Beijing, which didn’t really need a pretext.
(The accompanying visual is of Indian troops moving towards the border to confront Chinese troops in 1962. Courtesy: Life)