The Brave Die Young (Pakistan Perspective)
(OPERATION QIADA T -SEPTEMBER 87)
Taken from the book ‘Fangs of Ice – Story of Siachen’ by Lt Col Ishfaq Ali
The fall of Quaid Observation Post was an unfortunate blow to the valiant struggle and heroic resistance put up by Subedar Atta Muhammed, who while defending it fought till his last breath. As long as the ammunition lasted, he and his cornrades repulsed the incessant enemy attacks. They killed scores of Indians but ultimately fell martyrs. This tragic loss and immolation, inflamed the spirits of their brethren in arms and the stage was all set for wreaking vengeance. An assault on Akbar and Rana posts adjacent to the lost Observation Post was planned and the build up for the attack started.
Readiness is All
Captain Iqbal had come to this snowy abode in a great hurry. He had been sent to Abbottabad for a mountaineering course and on its completion had flown to join his unit. He was tall and handsome and had seen a score and six springs in his life. There were a few other officers who were flown with him to join their men in the snowy outposts of Bilafondla Sector, but he would not wait to travel the distance to Goma by jeep and so in one of the cargo choppers he had himself transported to the forward camp. There was something enigmatic in his eyes, a mischievous sparkle, held back by contemplation. The high bridged nose, the thin lips that always carried a warm smile, the close clipped beard and the even moustaches gave him a gentle and friendly look. He had an athletic build, years of rigorous training had hardened his muscles without giving them the unnecessary bulges and muscular contours. He had the grace and beauty cherished by the Greeks, a proportionate balancing of the bodily parts, and above all an inner beauty characterised by noble thoughts and high ideals. Such was the protagonist of our story, Captain Muhammad Iqbal, in the prime of his life. He had been like that from the very beginning, pure and noble of thought and action. The Prophet’s saying that men are like mines, some of gold, silver or copper applied fully on him. He was consistent throughout.
He had wanted to become a doctor, mainly because of the nobility and altruism associated with this profession. In college days, however, due to religious studies and a keen interest in reading the exploits of the Muslim warriors, he came to the conclusion that the profession of arms required greater dedication and selflessness. He discussed the matter with his father, Haji Mir Ahmed Khan, a very pious and honourable resident of Pashoongari, a village located near Nowshera. His father fully cognizant of the desire of his son gave him permission to join the army, which he did in May 1980. After graduating from the Pakistan Military Academy Kakul in 1982, Iqbal joined the Army Services Corps. Later on, his adventurous bent of mind took him to the special services group and he became an active member of an elite commando battalion.
The insignia of the SSG, two holts of lightning with a golden hilted dagger in their midst is emblematic of the martial mood of these dashing and hardy soldiers. One is reminded of Jupiter unleashing bolts of lightning on his adversaries. These brave and dedicated young men lead a spartan life away from the comforts of borne and hearth. In the freezing cold of the night, at Gyari the temperature had plummeted down to minus 10 degrees centigrade. The robust young officers of the battalion were huddled together in a tent. They had returned from a routine reconnaissance and now were engaged in a lively conversation. Time drifted by, the gusts of wind continually flapping the tent made them get up at times to bring necessary adjustments in the lapels. An occasional draught was welcome despite its chilly bite as it wafted away the smoke in the tent that had accumulated due to the kerosene stove and the constant puffing of cigarettes. Suddenly Iqbal got up; he had not offered his Ishaa’ prayers and it was nearing mid-night. He took off his snow boats, the cumbersome jacket and performed ablution with ice cold water. While he was offering his prayers, his friends in an impish mood tried to distract his attention by aiming jokes at him. He did burst into a peel of laughter; left the prayer mat and went out to perform ablution once again. This time no water was available, he had to rip open a can to extract ice and used it for the purpose of ritual cleaning. His friends were touched by his devotion and felt embarrassed at having caused him so much discomfort.
Whenever they would find time after reconnaissance, after training of men, they would sit down and chat. Most of the time Iqbal would excuse himself from frivolous talk and would lake out his combat team for giving them extra coaching about scaling rocks or he would spend time with his section and tell thcm inspiring tales of valour. He of ten used to talk about death. He was greatly inspired by the lives of great muslim generals. He orten used to quote the saying of Hazrat Ali ’death is my proteetor’, meaning thcreby that the hour of death is appointed and that before that no harm could befall him.
He had studied a bit of Shakespeare too. His instructor of English at P M A used to motivate the class with inspiring quo tes and would emphasize that cadets should memorize those lines so that in moments of crises, in the fog of war, the mind gets strengthened by their prompt recall. Out of these he remembered two quite vividly.
One from ‘Julius Caesar':
Cowards die many times before their death. The valiant taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear; seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it comes.
And one from ‘Hamlet':
There is a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, if it be now, “tis not to come, if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come, the readiness is all.
‘Readiness is all’ was the ultimate theme with him and his friends. That is why when they started off for Ali Bragnsa they were in buoyant spirits and were ready for all eventualities. They were sure of capturing the Rana Peak but it was nevertheless a formidable target because the adjoining peaks were in the possession of the enemy and he could effectively direct his artillery fire on them. However, they had a sound plan and were confident of success. Nonetheless, realizing that his mission was fraught with perils, he thought of writing his will and asked his friends to do the same. It is the firm belief of every muslim that there is a life after this mundane existence and that his permanent abode is in the next world. All those who devoutly believe in this basic postulate of Islam are fearless of death. A western historian Joseph Hill while reflecting about the successes of the early muslims wrote that the Arabs reached the pinnacle of glory because of their discipline and contempt for death.
Contempt for Death
As long as contempt for death was the driving force of their lives, they feared nothing and were invincible in their might. Iqbal steeped in this philosophy cared little for this temporary and worldly sojourn. He had firm faith in the continuity of life and had moulded his actions and routine in conformity with his ideals. He had throughout abstained from the frivolities of life, steering clear of the forbidden pleasures, and had set his eyes on a well charted course of self actualization. Now with pen in hand, in the stillness of the night when introspection can best be carried out without any extraneous disturbance, he started writing his will in his diary. Like Socrates, his first priority was clearance of dues. Socrates had told Crito before drinking the cup of hemlock that he owed a rooster to Asclepius-that debt should be paid immediately after his death. Great men do think alike. The opening sentences of Iqbal’s will read:
Let the green pack and the light neck jersey go back to the company stores and the bills for ‘langar’, mess, washerman and cobbler be paid.
Then he thoughtfully wrote the following eight wishes:
- I owe sixteen days of fasting.
- On 24 May, I took a loan of Rs. 900, my class number was 174. Details about the loan may be checked up from Peshawar University Administration Office. This loan must be paid back.
- Zakat must be paid on the amount in my D S O P fund.
- My grave should not be cemented and should not be raised more than the Shariah permits. No flowers, sehras, dupatas should be laid on the grave. These are sheer rituals and there is no injunction about them in the Quran or Hadith. Prayer is the most useful commodity.
- No Chelum or death anniversary should be arranged, nor should rice pots be cooked and people invited and alms be given on these ceremonies, the estimated expenditure should be diverted towards paving a street, constructing a drain, or be given as donation to a mosque or as charity to the deprived. Shun ostentation for it is a curse not a blessing.
- If after my death, the Government gives some amount, then out of this Rs. 40,000 should be distributed among the poor as an atonement of the prayers I didn’t offer and the fasts I didn’t keep. The balance if any should be given to my parents.
- My relatives and friends should be advised to refrain from doing anything un islamic. If they want to cook a ‘deg’ on Friday or do something of the sort they should be stopped.
- No one should bewail and- bemoan my death; they will give me no satisfaction. If my well wishers want to do me good after my death, they should recite ‘Darood-Shareef’ as often as possible and offer it’s blessing for my soul.
Having duly written his will, he called his orderly Kibraya Mamun Anjum and trusted his diary to his care.
The Guns Rumble
A day later they started off for Ali Bragnsa. The companies left at different hours. However, by nightfall of 20th September, they all had reached Ali Bragnsa. The Headquarters was established at Gazi Camp and Capt Iqbal, whose company had been assigned portering duties, moved in the stealth of the night towards Lal camp which was established on the left extremity of the Bilafondla Pass. That night the mercury dropped to minus 20 degrees centigrade and clouds came very low. The wind chill factor was even worse. In this benumbing cold the weather started deteriorating. Prior to the move of troops, on the preceding days there had been a heavy exchange of shelling. The Indians had been pounding shells and all the four sectors had been activated. Luminous flares, the roaring guns and the spewing and smoking machine guns must have invited the forces of Nature to join hands in the chorus of the staccato of guns, the whining of bullets and the boom of exploding shells; for soon dark and ominous Cirrus clouds appeared on the horizon and blanketed the mighty mountains. They came with the accompaniment of thunder and lightning. Their roar and rumble, their clap and clamour muted and hushed the guns to silence. The angry winds unleashed their fury and let loose a torrent of rain, snow and sleet. The storm raged mercilessly for hours. In such an unholy weather, the assault could not lake place. It had to be postponed by at least twenty four hours for which permission had to be sought.
Bilafondla – The Scene of Action
The Bilafondla is derived from the Balti word ‘Bilafond’, which means a butterfly and ‘La’ stands for a pass. This pass is one of the northern passes to Siachen, the other northern pass is known as Siala. The general configuration of the area is that of a butterfly. The mouth of the pass is roughly one kilometer wide. On the right side is the lofty structure of the Quaid OP which was captured by the Indians in June 87. Subedar Atta Muhammad, the incharge of the Observation Post with his band of five, had put up a very brave resistance and fought till the last man, last bullet. Quaid OP enjoys a tactical elevation by virtue of which the entire area to the North is visible. This feature with its peak touching a height of 21,600 feet dominates the entire spectrum. On its right is the Yaqub post which too is in enemy hands. Further right on another craggy eminence is the Sarwar post which is manned by own troops. On the left hand of the pass is another series of crests and peaks. Rana top enjoys a height of 19000 feet and adjacent to it further left is the Akbar top which equals Rana in stature These two adjoining peaks are not in one straight line but lie straddled at an angle. They are inter connected by a saddle, which in turn is crisscrossed by gaping crevasses and deep ravines. No plain and simplistic description is possible because the terrain is treacherous, elusive and defies accurate portrayal. In the middle of the pass, more towards the right in the northeasterly direction, amidst the layers and folds of glaciated ice, is a vantage point where the enemy has a well entrenched dug out, referred to as La Bunker. In this snowy scenario, amidst the thunder of guns, the stage was set for the assault on Akbar and Rana tops. The enemy was expecting an attack, but the deception plan had worked well. He was bombarding all possible routes to Quaid OP; so far no shells were being dropped on Rana and Akbar.
The tall and handsome commanding officer with a heavy stubble from which grey and silver hair peeped here and there, looked disturbed. He was passing on orders to his company commanders. ‘The attack is called off’, he communicated with them, ‘wait for further orders’. Lieutenant Colonel Safdar Attiq Awan, the jaunty middle aged veteran commando had faced many rigours in life. He had seen action on many a front but the implication of the foul weather did bother him. His men were out in the open, in the freezing and blood curdling frost y night; the delay in attack would take a heavy toll.
He waited impatiently for the unrelenting storm to die down. The attack had to be postponed by twenty fours hours at least. The dawn of 22nd September heralded prospects of better weather. It had stopped snowing and the gale had lost its force. A few specks of clouds floated innocently and idly in the sky as if they had the remotest connection with the raging tempest of the last night. Daybreak roused the guns from their slumber. Today they were very active, they spewed out fire and smoke relentlessly. The rat a tat of the 12.7 mm Machine guns was interspersed by Mortar shells and occasional fire from the Rocket Launchers. The enemy reciprocated, but lacked in accuracy and precision. The constant pounding by the guns hunkered in emplacements was meant to prepare the ground for the attack. In order to keep the enemy guessing about the direction of the attack and the possible objective, a platoon simulated activity on the right flank from Sarwar. The constant shelling on Akbar, Rana, Quaid, La Bunker and Yaqub in the Bilafondla sector was disconcerting for the enemy.
The Fog of Battle
At 1800 hours on 22 September, TOW fire was called on Rana and Akbar. Thereafter, the assault teams led by Capt Nazareth and Capt Akbar left for their objectives. Capt Nazareth had 12 men with him and he was already at Rahber II, at a height from the base. Capt Akbar with his team of 12 trudged further left, in waist deep snow, for scaling Akbar top. The ascent was very laborious and the snowfall of the previous night added to their difficulties. The hardened ice, covered with fresh snow had become crusty and did not allow proper foothold; snow axes had to be used frequently. In the murky and smoggy blanket of early night, with smoke hanging in the air, Capt Nazarath tried to traverse the Conical Feature from the right. In this kaleidoscopic fairyland however, inlets and approaches, false crests, deceptive ridges, staggering heights and snowy dimples so enchant and boggle the mind that the sense of direction becomes wayward. Captl Nazareth, despite his best efforts could not make any headway; he had lost track of the way. He was told to return to Rahber II, and from their proceed further ahead bypassing the Conical Feature. In the meantime, Capt Akbar also reported scant progress because of the appearance of a huge crevasse and too steep a gradient of the mountainside. It was an impasse, therefore, he was asked to come back. The team following Capt Akbar, led by Capt Imran, was asked to meet Capt Nazareth, to jointly launch the assault on Rana top. Straining every inch of their energy, in the rare atmosphere of the dizzying heights, where breathing itself is difficult, these brave men marched forward. By about 0400 hours, Capt Imran met the stragglers of Capt Nazareth’s team. After a lot of meandering, they found their war to Tabish, sheltered under the overhang of the granite rocks. The enemy had not come to know of their presence yet. Capt Nazareth leading team covered more ground. They noticed the enemy soldiers squatting on top of a ledge. The detection was mutual. No sooner did the enemy spot them, he opened the fire of Vickers on them. They scurried behind the cover of the boulders. Any attempt to inch forward was foiled by the well sited machine gun. The same fate awaited the team of Capt Imran which was on the left of Capt Nazareth. In a daring bid to silence the bunker, the teams braved the wrath of aimed fire. Sepoy Razaq who defied cover in an effort to close in, was mortally wounded and embraced Shahadat. L/Nk Younis also fell a martyr while going in for the machine gun that stood between them and the coveted peak. The bunker was well concealed and despite the withering fire from it, it’s exact position was not betrayed. Now that the element of surprise had been lost, the artillery and mortar fire opened up on the slopes of Rana. By 0900 the advance had been checked.
Moment of Trial
At Lal base, at the foot of Rana, Capt Muhammad Iqbal impatiently waited for permission to move. He had been assigned portering duties and was to follow the leading assault troops to evacuate the casualties, but he was anxious to join the attack. Exposure to the intense and biting cold over the last twenty four hours and the anxiety for his friends possibly might have contributed to the sharp colic in his stomach that set him rolling on the ground with pain. His ICO, Naib Subedar Sher Bahadur, helped him to his feet and begged him to go back to Ghazi for rest. But this young man who had chosen a path for himself was not to be deterred at this stage. He had decided his course of action. He fainted with the severity of the stabbing pain. The RMO, doctor Sartaj Wali wanted to evacuate him but he requested not to be sent back and asked for some palliative to relieve his pain. That done, he was on his feet again. At the spiritual plane this was a moment of trial for him, for the Almighty seeks full commitment from the believers. There is no half hearted or luke warm involvement in the spiritual realm. At this stage, if Iqbal’s will had wavered or his resolve had weakened, there was a legitimate excuse for him to back out. He was free to choose. It is in a trying situation when the concept of freedom is best understood. Freedom is not a concept, but is an existential reality. It is revealed to man in a situation. Marcel is right when he says that freedom is found only when the self turns inward and attains awareness of its possibility for commitment and treason. Fidelity and treason are expressions of human freedom. As such there are only two modes of existence, the aesthetical and the ethical. The aesthetical mode is that of the romantic hedonist who fails to commit himself decisively, thus forfeiting the possibility of achieving existence and selfhood. The aesthete flirts with life and lacks inwardness, passion and commitment. In the existential sense the self is not born. Choice is born at the ethical stage and it is through dint of choice that authentic selfhood is attained. It is by virtue of decision and commitment that the self reaches the ethical stage. The responsibility of concrete personal decision remains opaque for the aesthete, whereas for the ethical self it manifests itself in commitment and resolution.
Having decided Iqbal had to remain firm, the small trial by Nature was meant to assess his degree of commitment. He had qualified this test. When he went to ISSB before the selection board in 1980, the psychologist there had assessed him well, he had written in his report ”Emotionally robust and healthy. Keen with a sense of realization. Has a strong desire to achieve something in life”. Iqbal was forging his way in life fired with high ideals. The time for self actualization had come.
He set off with his band of men and by 0900 hours was with the leading elements of the assault group which had been pinned down by the enemy fire. The Company Commander, Major Sana, had been in contact with the battalion commander. The entire day was spent in reconnaissance and planning. The upper most enemy bunker on Rana, hidden to view, perched on the top, commanded a full view of all the accesses and hence any move forward, especially in broad daylight was suicidal. These valiant men, exposed to the vagaries of a merciless weather, were sustaining frost bite. Their limbs were getting numb, constant movement was required. During the steep climb, many had lost their gloves, their boots had ruptured and now their feet were swelling, turning black and becoming lifeless; they had to be evacuated. There was no cover anywhere, save a few boulders scattered here and there in the eerie nakedness of the sharply falling slopes.
The Indian guns were now mare active; the helicopters were flying in reinforcements and ammunition. Their choppers would land in the Bilafondla, well out of the reach of own artillery fire and deliver goods. Enemy troops had started pouring in. The Rana and Akbar peaks have a very sharp gradient towards own side but from the reverse side the gradient is gentle. Major Chatterjee of 3/4 Gorkha Rifle with 35 men had started the climb. The route adopted was the well defined path upto Akbar and thence onwards to Rana, under cover of snowy ledges that allowed unobtrusive movement. IL did not lake him more than 90 minutes to teach Rana Top.
The plan for a fresh assault was finalized, it would commence on the eve of 24th September, the assaulting troops were there behind the precarious cover of the jutting outcrops of black rocks since the morning of 22nd September and had experienced the worst of weather. The temperature the previous night had been a vicious minus 40 and the wind velocity had broken previous records. Yet suffused with the warmth of faith and firmness of purpose these daring young men were now about to commence a three pronged attack. Artillery fire had been called on the enemy and shells were exploding viciously. When an accurate TOW hit the topmost bunker, the attack went in. Though it was a little short of last light yet the advantage gained had to be utilized to the maximum.
Battle On The Top
This was the moment Capt Iqbal had been waiting for. He volunteered to join the assault troops that were to reach the Rana top from the left. Capt Imran was in the lead but his advance was checked because of the fire from Akbar post and the uppermost bunker that was still holding out despite the TOW hit. In the process of advance Capt Imran was badly wounded and could go no further. Capt Iqbal kept on moving forward; he was confronted with the problem of scaling a cliff overhang. Being an expert in rock climbing, he managed to cross it. He got on to the shoulders of Arshad and heaved himself up on the overhang. His feet slipped on the ice despite the crampons. A fusillade of fire sent a splash of powdered snow on his face. Taking cover, he quickly knotted a bowline over a firm outcrop of rock. He now started pulling up his men. With him now were four Jawans of his team. Hazrat Yousaf, a young and tender aged soldier, Arshad, Rafi and Nazir. Through cover and move they kept on inching forward. They detected an enemy bunker on the extreme left under the ledge. Capt Iqbal took a detour and along the precipitous walls of a narrow defile he approached it. When he was about 30 yards away, he hurled a grenade and saw the bunker explode. Billows of smoke whipped up carrying smell of burnt flesh. In the meanwhile Capt Rashid Malik who was approaching the top from the right also covered some ground. Enroute he blew up 2 enemy bunkers. He had approached the enemy from the rear on a very narrow precipitous ledge and was nearing the top most bunker. Capt Cheema, leading his assault team frontally, was the first one to enter the depression that lead to the top. Little did this valiant soul know that the enemy had pulled a fast ploy. No sooner did he lunge forward, the concealed Vickers opened fire and the lion died in his leap in mid air having been baulked of the prey which he justly deserved. Capt Iqbal was now circling closer to the hump that would lead him to the concavity upwards which would ultimately enable him to wipe out the last enemy post. He tightened the slings of his bandolier and straightened his sub machine gun for the final assault. He was in direct communication with his commander on the set. Bombs were exploding in his close proximity and the otherwise dark night was illumined with multi coloured flares and incandescent explosives. The unsullied whiteness of the snow was tainted with the char of exploding shells. Here and there splashes of snow and ice would spray up, mixed with shrapnel and exploded rock. In the Pandemonium of hellish fire, in the hail of light and din, an enemy gun sighted him, a burst emanated and one of the bullets hit him in the leg. He jumped for cover and then hurriedly collecting the RPG-7 from Rafi, carefully aimed at the pulsating flicker of the enemy Machine gun. The rocket released whizzed through the air and like a bolt struck the entrenched enemy blowing him to pieces. The gash in his leg was now bleeding profusely. The commander sensing the slight tremor in Iqbal’s voice asked him, if anything was the matter. He told him he was hit in the leg but was fresh as ever and would be on top of the enemy soon. The excruciating pain of the wound did not make him lose sense of his original mission. Now that the attack was converging on the top he couldn’t simply move away from the scene. He quickly got his wound bandaged and hobbling a few yards straightened himself for the final encounter.
The tall and agile Capt Rashid Malik who had made his way to the top could not enter the bowl from where the top most enemy bunker was just 50 yards away. He saw the dead body of his friend Capt Cheema lying there. He had wanted to rush in but before he could do that Naib Subedar Aslam had grabbed hold of him and did not let him go that way for the enemy Machine Gun was well sited and he would have been in its direct arc of fire. He was under heavy fire from the left also. At the extremity of the saddle that was connecting the two peaks together was yet another enemy picket. It had to be engaged. He took cover of the rocks and stalked towards it, then picking out the pin of the grenade with his teeth he hurled it in. He had destroyed yet another hurdle.
Capt Iqbal was now trying to approach the Rana Peak from the side facing the enemy lines. His four companions were with him and he could from his precarious perch, in the niche of the overhanging ledge perceive scurried movement on Akbar Top. The enemy was going to send massive reinforcements to Rana to save their beleaguered friends. He needed more men. Capt Rashid Malik was directed on wireless to move left detouring the bowl and reach Iqbal, so that the two could make a concerted drive to blow up the last bunker and foil the repeated enemy counter attacks. At this moment the frantically desperate enemy sensing that all was lost requested for SOS fire – his request was immediately acceded to and in the barrage of mortar and Artillery shells the most lethal addition of air bursts was made. This shower of air bursts was being directed by Quaid OP, the Indians call it the Bana Top. These shells fired by normal artillery guns are timed to explode at varying altitudes of choice and on bursting release a storm of pellets that move in all conceivable directions. The first to fall victim of this air burst was Capt Rashid Malik who was trying to reach Capt Iqbal.
He was hit in four different places. He fell unconscious on the spot. He was dragged behind a fragile shelter of rocks by his men. They tried to gag the gaping wounds. The survivors of Capt Rashid’s team finally reached Capt Iqbal who was battling it out with the enemy. It was now well past midnight, the assault had continued unabated for the last eight or nine hours. He could hear the panic stricken voices of the Indians down below. His Rocket Launcher man could not match his dexterous and sure footed climb and was trailing behind him. Capt Iqbal informed his Commanding Officer about the situation and told him that he was waiting for the RPG-7 to reach him, then he would destroy the last defence of the enemy.
Hazrat Yousaf the youngest member of this team was out of breath, Capt Iqbal, patted him on the back and told him to move down if he was unwell. The brave young man fired by his commanders infectious and radiating will wouldn’t turn back, he had come too far up to back out at this final stage. In the already luminescent sky, lit by multi coloured fire works, there was another air burst and Yousaf holding his chest with both hands rolled down. Rafi who was charging forward towards the enemy with his Sub Machine gun retching and reeking smoke and fire received a cluster of bullets in his chest. Mustering up the last ounce of energy he shouted ‘Allah ho Akbar’, at the top of the his voice and fell a martyr.
Rendezvous with Death
The RPG-7 was now in the hands of Capt Iqbal, he would now load it and deliver the pay load to the enemy, but the enemy counter attack coming from Akbar had to be stopped first. He picked up his machine gun and put a fresh magazine in it. He felt the hilt of his dagger that was fastened to his belt. Now the time was fast approaching when a hand to hand combat would take place. He braced himself for the. enemy onslaught. The heavy downpour of machine gun fire checked the enemy counter attack and sent them scurrying back. The air bursts had increased in frequency and their effect had been devastating. Iqbal stationing Sepoy Arshad to watch the enemy build up, got up to grab the rocket launcher so that he could destroy the entrenched enemy. Before he straightened himself he was hit by a stray shrapnel, he reeled forward, he had to blow the bunker, before he breathed his last. He staggered onto his feet, a burst of Vickers riddled his chest with bullets.
He lay in a heap, blood oozing out and solidifying immediately on his still and lifeless form leaving a pattern of red roses. He had kept his rendezvous with death. On the snowy Peak, the guns silenced for a few seconds as if they were paying homage to Iqbal’s courage and sacrifice. The frozen wind whined by and the stray clouds shed their tears on the young martyr. His immolation had not gone waste. A post was set up at Tabish just below Rana Peak, which now monitors enemy positions in Bilafondla and La Bunker.
The Crystal Encasement
Nature stood vigil over his body. Immediately it showered flakes of snow that cloaked and shrouded his earthly remains and embalmed him in thick folds of ice. The ethereal spirits could visit him in his icy vault. When the snow began to melt the next rear, the Indians caught a glimpse of the crystal encasement of Capt Iqbal and his 13 companions. They tried to dig out their bodies but couldn’t. In a flag staff meeting they agreed to let Pakistani soldiers retrieve them. Nature delivered the bodies of these martyrs untainted and unsoiled to their kith and kin.
The ‘Namaz-e-Janaza’ of Capt Muhammad Iqbal, Shaheed, HJ, was performed in his village at Pashoon Ghari on 6 August 88. Thousands of admirers thronged to the funeral procession to catch a glimpse of his mortal remains and pay homage to this young and dauntless martyr who sacrificed his life for the honour of his motherland. He lies buried in the cemetery of Pashoonghari but his deeds of bravery continue to warm the hearts of his countrymen.
Epilogue
Operation Qiadat symbolized and expressed the changed attitude. For the first time in the history of Siachen, Pakistani troops launched an offensive in a terrain that is totally ill suited for such action. The enemy was chastised for his earlier aggression and a new post, ‘Tabish’ was established on Saltoro Range to dominate Bilafondla.
Commenting on the martyrdom of Capt Iqbal and Capt Cheema, a senior officer remarked-both were excellent soldiers and pious Muslims. If he were to weigh their merits, the scale would probably remain balanced. Both in their own right, had sterling qualities of head and heart. About Capt Iqbal, he added, that in this materialistic age, Iqbal’s father being a retired customs superintendent lead a very simple and austere life. Iqbal brought up in such a chaste atmosphere, learnt to lake a careful stock of his actions. He knew exactly how many prayers and fasts he had missed in life. In the opening lines of his will he had written that he owed sixteen fasts. None can remember such details, unless one takes a constant account of one’s actions.
After Operation Qiadat, everyone at Siachen fasted for a day and dedicated the ‘Sawab’ to Iqbal.
