Reflections of the 65 war.

[fatman17]

I am sixty something now but on that fateful September l was a 11 year old school boy whose father was a Lt.Col in the army posted at the GHQ pending his posting to Azad Kashmir.

The whole family father, mother , my two sisters and myself had gone shopping that evening on the 1st of September in my father's Triumph Herald 1200, and on the way back my father disclosed to the whole family that his posting had come through and he had to leave for kotli in Azad Kashmir within 24 hours. I could see the tension on my mother's face as she gripped my father's arm. He smiled at her and said it will be okay don't worry and to quickly inject some morale he addressed me saying kaka our airforce today shot down four Indian vampires without loss. I was cock a hoop, jumping up and down on the back seat of the car. My mother just smiled knowing quite well the dangers her husband was going to face in a few days time. Both my sisters were too young to understand what was going on.

We got home on church road in lal kurti near the presentation school for girls and I got out of the car and hugged my dad tightly, he was my hero along with any uniformed person during those fateful days.

My father's batman jumma Khan was ordered to pack my dad's kit that evening as the jeep to pick him up was due early next morning for the journey to kotli to take command of his unit (Punjab regt ).

Our dinner table was very quiet that evening. I went to my bedroom to complete my homework and around 9pm my father came to my room, hugged me and put me to bed. To me he was invincible in his dashing khaki uniform and green beret of the Punjab regiment.

Next morning he was long gone before l woke up and went to school, St Marys on Murree road where the talk of the day was the downing of the four vampires by the PAF. We were supremely confident in the capabilities of our army and airforce that day.

Soon war was declared as both adversaries faced each other across the CFL and the international border.

That evening FM Ayub Khan addressed the nation informing us of the state of war. Meray Aziz humwatano he blurted in his deep voice which sent shivers down my spine. I was dancing and completely delerious.

Schools were closed which was the added benefit of war (that's how l felt ) and no homework. I was in heaven.

My father's batman quickly dug up a L shaped trench in our garden to be used during air raids.

Radio pakistan was our only means of live news and l was glued to the radio every top of the hour. The morning paper the Pakistan times was eagerly awaited to read the news of the exploits of our forces along with the pictures of the war.

The first air raid warning took place that night at around 9 or 10 pm. Jumma Khan quickly ushered us into the trench as we heard the ack ack open up along with a couple of huge thuds as bombs landed nearby (we lived close to the GHQ and there was an ack ack gun nearby which made a hell of a noise ). Both my sisters started crying and I felt my legs shaking. I tried to put up a brave face but l couldn't stop my legs from shaking. War had finally hit home and l quickly realised why my mother acted the way she did the last few days.

The war carried on with both sides claiming victories upon victories. The airwaves were full of propoganda some true some not. Patriotic songs blurted out all day and night during those fateful days.

Close to the end of the war, my father called us on the telephone to let us know that he was ok and we should not worry at all. I cannot forget the relief on my mother's face as tears ran down her face. I hugged her. I hugged jumma Khan who told me that my father was a brave man, a ghazi. There was no dancing or delirium on my part, just pure relief that I will be able to see my father again soon.

After about 4 weeks the schools opened, my father came home on a 2 day pass. He was a fit man before he left for the front but he had lost weight. I remember him sleeping most of the 2 days and my mother made sure I didn't disturb him too much.

I heard him tell jumma Khan that he was proud of his regiment as they held their own against heavy odds.
What was surprising to me was his admiration for the way the Indian unit opposite him fought (Rajputana regt).

He returned to the front as the ceasefire had been finalised as the armies slowly returned to their peace time locations. My father's regiment was ordered to return to jehlum and we joined him a few weeks later.

He never discussed what happened in detail except to say that the regiment did well and that was good enough for me.
My father also took part in the 71 war but this time he was posted at GHQ in military intelligence. He retired in late 72. He passed away in 2006.

 

[rockstarIN]

A nice read ..thanks

 

[vsdoc]

@fatman17

Sir thanks for that narration. I was barely a few months old and mom and me had returned home to Jamshedpur from her parents home in Mumbai where I as the first born had been born, when the 71 war broke out.

I do not have any conscious memories of the same, but my mom tells me how the window panes of the home had been blacked out, and how when the air raid sirens used to go off, she used to take me and hide under the bed (don't know how scientific that was, but being civvies, we did not have a batman to dig a trench for us on the garden lawn ).

I know personally the family of a real life hero from our side, Lt. Cold Ardeshir "Adi" Tarapore, commander of the Poona Horse. He was the hero of the tank battle of Phillora, and I get goosebups just reading his story.

They would be leaving to attend the annual celebrations and remembrance of that battle by the armored corps where the Poona Horse is stationed, where they honor his daughter (his wife passed away years ago of cancer).

This year being the 50th anniversary, there will be a bigger civvy celebration in New Delhi, and they have been invited by our PM for the same.

Hero of ‘65 Pak war, Lt Col Tarapore had a premonition of his death | Sakal Times

Recalling the six fateful days of the battle, Lt Col Tarapore’s second-in-command, Lt Gen (Retd) NS Cheema, who was a Major then, said that Lt Col Tarapore had called him aside and given him detailed instructions on what do do in case he was killed.

“‘I must be cremated in the battlefield’ he said. ‘My prayer book must be given to my mother, my gold chain to my wife, my ring to my daughter, my bracelet and pen to my son’. He paused and then added, ‘And Niranjan... please tell my son Xerxes to join the army’”, Lt Gen Cheema said.

His premonition came true on September 16, 1965 when he was fatally wounded after being hit by an enemy artillery shell. Incidentally, both Lt Col Tarapore and Lt Gen Cheema, hail from Pune. The former studied in Sardar Dastur Boy’s School and the latter in St. Vincent’s High School.

Usha Cheema on ‘Adi’

Lt Col Tarapore or ‘Adi’ was a man of his words, wrote the late Usha Cheema, wife of Lt Gen (Retd) NS Cheema, in the book series titled ‘Chicken Soup for the Indian Armed Forces’ soul’.

“I had come to see off my husband and others at the railway station and wished them luck before the regiment proceeded for the battle. The train was about to leave. Adi came over to me. His face was bright and his eyes shone - like one possessed. He said, ‘Don’t worry Usha. I will look after Niranjan (Lt Gen (Retd) N S Cheema). Nothing is going to go wrong’. He kept his word. My husband returned from the war while he (Adi) went forever,” Usha wrote.

 

[niaz]

I was about 22 and studying in London. Since war in Kashmir was already in full swing, we used to go to the High Commission at the Lowndes Square to read Pakistani newspapers of the previous day.

One of my relations as Technical Sergeant (Warrant Officer) in the PAF fell in love with an English girl during a training trip to UK and after release from then RPAF had settled in Hounslow. I got a call around 6 PM and was asked whereabouts of my father (his cousin) as Pakistan and India were at full scale war.

My father worked in the Military Dairy Farms with the RVFC (Remount Veterinary & Farms corps) and was posted as manager of one the Mily Farms in Okara. Okara being quite near the border, I was anxious about the wellbeing of my family. There was always telephone connection at the Mily Farm but long distance phone calls were costly and one had to wait for hours for a connection. My father told me that all the family were safe and that Pakistani Forces were doing very well. I was advised not to worry about him and waste money on long distance phone calls and to concentrate on my studies instead.

Despite being perpetually short of funds, I had a good radio and spent most of my free time glued to the BBC News until the end of the war.

 

[Capt.Popeye]

@niaz sahab; Indeed BBC was considered to be the single reliable source of news at the time. VOA was considered less credible. My father had an ancient valve-driven radio set which coupled with some unusual antenna rig; picked up nearly any radio station. Many years later, I bought him a World Band Zenith Transistor radio; but he always swore by his. Then laterI had a Compact Sony World Band Receiver that could pick up the Indian "Vividh Bharati" Film songs channel in mid-Pacific. That was the Golden Age of Radio.

 

[fatman17]

Not many posters can relate to this thread as they are of the new generation. Understandable.

 

[nair]

I am sixty something now but on that fateful September l was a 11 year old school boy whose father was a Lt.Col in the army posted at the GHQ pending his posting to Azad Kashmir.

The whole family father, mother , my two sisters and myself had gone shopping that evening on the 1st of September in my father's Triumph Herald 1200, and on the way back my father disclosed to the whole family that his posting had come through and he had to leave for kotli in Azad Kashmir within 24 hours. I could see the tension on my mother's face as she gripped my father's arm. He smiled at her and said it will be okay don't worry and to quickly inject some morale he addressed me saying kaka our airforce today shot down four Indian vampires without loss. I was cock a hoop, jumping up and down on the back seat of the car. My mother just smiled knowing quite well the dangers her husband was going to face in a few days time. Both my sisters were too young to understand what was going on.

We got home on church road in lal kurti near the presentation school for girls and I got out of the car and hugged my dad tightly, he was my hero along with any uniformed person during those fateful days.

My father's batman jumma Khan was ordered to pack my dad's kit that evening as the jeep to pick him up was due early next morning for the journey to kotli to take command of his unit (Punjab regt ).

Our dinner table was very quiet that evening. I went to my bedroom to complete my homework and around 9pm my father came to my room, hugged me and put me to bed. To me he was invincible in his dashing khaki uniform and green beret of the Punjab regiment.

Next morning he was long gone before l woke up and went to school, St Marys on Murree road where the talk of the day was the downing of the four vampires by the PAF. We were supremely confident in the capabilities of our army and airforce that day.

Soon war was declared as both adversaries faced each other across the CFL and the international border.

That evening FM Ayub Khan addressed the nation informing us of the state of war. Meray Aziz humwatano he blurted in his deep voice which sent shivers down my spine. I was dancing and completely delerious.

Schools were closed which was the added benefit of war (that's how l felt ) and no homework. I was in heaven.

My father's batman quickly dug up a L shaped trench in our garden to be used during air raids.

Radio pakistan was our only means of live news and l was glued to the radio every top of the hour. The morning paper the Pakistan times was eagerly awaited to read the news of the exploits of our forces along with the pictures of the war.

The first air raid warning took place that night at around 9 or 10 pm. Jumma Khan quickly ushered us into the trench as we heard the ack ack open up along with a couple of huge thuds as bombs landed nearby (we lived close to the GHQ and there was an ack ack gun nearby which made a hell of a noise ). Both my sisters started crying and I felt my legs shaking. I tried to put up a brave face but l couldn't stop my legs from shaking. War had finally hit home and l quickly realised why my mother acted the way she did the last few days.

The war carried on with both sides claiming victories upon victories. The airwaves were full of propoganda some true some not. Patriotic songs blurted out all day and night during those fateful days.

Close to the end of the war, my father called us on the telephone to let us know that he was ok and we should not worry at all. I cannot forget the relief on my mother's face as tears ran down her face. I hugged her. I hugged jumma Khan who told me that my father was a brave man, a ghazi. There was no dancing or delirium on my part, just pure relief that I will be able to see my father again soon.

After about 4 weeks the schools opened, my father came home on a 2 day pass. He was a fit man before he left for the front but he had lost weight. I remember him sleeping most of the 2 days and my mother made sure I didn't disturb him too much.

I heard him tell jumma Khan that he was proud of his regiment as they held their own against heavy odds.
What was surprising to me was his admiration for the way the Indian unit opposite him fought (Rajputana regt).

He returned to the front as the ceasefire had been finalised as the armies slowly returned to their peace time locations. My father's regiment was ordered to return to jehlum and we joined him a few weeks later.

He never discussed what happened in detail except to say that the regiment did well and that was good enough for me.
My father also took part in the 71 war but this time he was posted at GHQ in military intelligence. He retired in late 72. He passed away in 2006.

Good read........ Thanks.... I remember those Radio days....

 

[vsdoc]

@niaz sahab; Indeed BBC was considered to be the single reliable source of news at the time. VOA was considered less credible. My father had an ancient valve-driven radio set which coupled with some unusual antenna rig; picked up nearly any radio station. Many years later, I bought him a World Band Zenith Transistor radio; but he always swore by his. Then laterI had a Compact Sony World Band Receiver that could pick up the Indian "Vividh Bharati" Film songs channel in mid-Pacific. That was the Golden Age of Radio.

I have similar childhood memories of my dad and his transistor radio (in a brown leather case with holes for the speaker). It used to be by his bedside table next to the telephone (the big black one with the dial with holes) and he used to sleep off listening to the news. All cricket on it as well. In fact quite a few years after we got our first TV, he would still prefer the radio for the commentary, putting the TV on mute, and only for the visuals. There was a bengali chap with a very baritone voice, can't recall his name. Very famous. News I think, not commentary. Not Kishore Bhimani. Some other name that is eluding me.

 

[third eye]

Not many posters can relate to this thread as they are of the new generation. Understandable.

My memories are as follows.

Dad was commanding an Artillery Regiment involved in the push towards Lahore ( this I learnt much later).

To us living in army accommodation in New Delhi it was far far away. Almost all of our neighbours had dads in the Services with little of no communication.

Like @fatman17 digging of trenches in our lawn by a fatigue party that went along digging in all lawns was the highest point for a 5 year old like me. We had been told to stock up essentials including torches will extra cells , biscuits , water etc. I recall playing soldiers with my friends in them and comparing trenches.

In school we were asked to make packets of an assortment of things which would be sent to the soldiers.

I recall my mother & other ladies glued to the 3 band National Transistor while we would listen to the old valve Grundig Radio .

Whenever the sirens went we rushed out looking into the sky. One day the AA Guns fired.

When Dad returned we learnt of where he had been. As a souvenir he carried an fired shell , rail tickets ( rectangular made of hard paper ) from a railway station and a foot measuring stand , the kind you use in shoe shops to measure the length of the foot . This still exists at home somewhere.

Later we learnt they were around a place called the Ichogil Canal somewhere on the outskirts of Lahore.

Someday when we exchange reminiscences of the 71 War I would be able to add a lot more as Dad, Brother , Brothers - in - law + cousins were very active both on the land & in the air then.

AIR broadcast regular bulletins and in addition there were two other programmes who everyone listened to - One was called Radio Jhootistan & another was Loha Singh.

 

[Levina]

As I skimmed through the posts on this thread, it gave me a picture of what it is to face a war. Fear of an air raid, tears of joy when you come to know your loved one is safe, I could feel it all.

What was surprising to me was his admiration for the way the Indian unit opposite him fought (Rajputana regt).
.

Reminds me of this “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
Your father is a true soldier.

 

[Armstrong]

@fatman17 - Your father is our hero and may his hereafter be ever peaceful.

 

[third eye]

The whole family father, mother , my two sisters and myself had gone shopping that evening on the 1st of September in my father's Triumph Herald 1200,

BTW my first car was an old Standard Herald 1964 model , the indian version of the same car. It was over 25 years old when I bought it.

A two door car whose bonnet would open front to rear exposing the engine & front suspension. I used to remove the roof around Holi and would fit it back after diwali. Great car & great times with the family & bachelors . Thank you for reminding me.

I bought it off a old timer armyman at about 1030pm after more than a couple of drinks. He kept asking me to come back the following day to see the car again & pick it up if I still liked it- but it was of no avail.

We then proceeded to wake up the Panditji, Maulvi & Granthi in the regiment and made them bless the car close to midnight !!

Lt. Cold Ardeshir "Adi" Tarapore, commander of the Poona Horse. He was the hero of the tank battle of Phillora, and I get goosebups just reading his story.

Among the most respected men of the Armoured Corps.

He was the Commandant Poona Horse.

 

[vsdoc]

I bought it off a old timer armyman at about 1030pm after more than a couple of drinks. He kept asking me to come back the following day to see the car again & pick it up if I still liked it- but it was of no avail.

We then proceeded to wake up the Panditji, Maulvi & Granthi in the regiment and made them bless the car close to midnight !!

LOL I can imagine the scene pretty vividly sir.

 

[Capt.Popeye]

I have similar childhood memories of my dad and his transistor radio (in a brown leather case with holes for the speaker). It used to be by his bedside table next to the telephone (the big black one with the dial with holes) and he used to sleep off listening to the news. All cricket on it as well. In fact quite a few years after we got our first TV, he would still prefer the radio for the commentary, putting the TV on mute, and only for the visuals. There was a bengali chap with a very baritone voice, can't recall his name. Very famous. News I think, not commentary. Not Kishore Bhimani. Some other name that is eluding me.

That guy was Surajit Sen; he'd do the 9 p.m. English news (the most important one). I grew up in my teenage years; imitating him His sister Lotika Ratnam was AIR's first female news-reader. But the all-time great was Melville de Mellow. And in cricket commentary was A.F.S. Talyarkhan, he could comment all day long from start of play to stumps in cricket matches..... he parted ways with AIR, because they watned him to "share strike" with other commentators!

 

[vsdoc]

That guy was Surajit Sen; he'd do the 9 p.m. English news (the most important one). I grew up in my teenage years; imitating him His sister Lotika Ratnam was AIR's first female news-reader. But the all-time great was Melville de Mellow. And in cricket commentary was A.F.S. Talyarkhan, he could comment all day long from start of play to stumps in cricket matches..... he parted ways with AIR, because they watned him to "share strike" with other commentators!

Yup, must be that. That was around the time dad would nod off and it was my job to come in and put off the radio, mom already fast asleep.

The romance of radio is undeniable. And nothing else bound such a huge country like ours as tightly.