People in the Armed Forces face challenges that are not comparable to the ones other citizens encounter. They cannot be dealt with by conventional methods
The place was Sirhind Club, Ambala. The month and year were July 1968. I do not recall the exact date. I was there because I was attending a war correspondents’ training course organised by the Defence Ministry, which involved two weeks’ attachment with the Army and one week’s with the 18 Wing of the Indian Air Force at Pathankot. Of the two weeks with the Army, we were with the First Armoured Division, then based in Ambala and commanded by Major General RK Ranjit Singh, for one week.
While most of those present at the club were engrossed in a game of Tambola, several of us were talking in a corner about the 1965 war and whether the role of Army personnel in it had been adequately appreciated. From there it was a short step to the wider discussion as to whether Army personnel were getting the kind of treatment they deserved. A fellow journalist, who was also attending the course, stated that a friend of his in the Indian Administrative Service had once asked him a rhetorical question: What is so special about what the Army doesIJ Army personnel had chosen a career and, like people in every other walk of life, they had to do what their jobs required.
A young Major, who with the lorried Infantry Brigade, which was a part of the First Armoured division, smiled and said, “Reminds me of what happened here a couple of months ago. We were sitting somewhere near the corner over there when a young businessman, perhaps to impress the young lady with him, had asked a similar question.”
Several voices asked in unison as he paused, “What was the questionIJ”
The Major resumed, “Challenging that Army personnel did something special, he asked me what was it that I could do and he could not. I told him that I commanded the lives of men. If I ask the men under my command to follow me charging at the enemy, the men would do so without a question, knowing full well that many of them will not come back. Would any of his employees follow him to a situation where they may dieIJ”
The fellow journalist asked, “What did he sayIJ”
“Nothing. He suddenly remembered he had a meeting to attend and, getting up hastily with the young lady, left.”
This is the difference between the men and women who serve in the Armed Forces and the others following other professions and careers — the former put their lives on the line and can die when very young, leaving young widows and children behind. This is particularly true of the Indian Army where officers lead from the front. A Pakistani prisoner of war, a jawan, told me in 1971 in Hindi which, translated into English, would read, “Saab, it would have been a different story if we had officers like your Army’s. Our battalion commander says, ‘Charge!’ The company commander orders, ‘JCO, charge!’ JCOs say, ‘Jawans! Charge!’ And we run into your fire while they bring in the rear. In your case, your officers jump into the lead saying ‘Follow me! Charge!” The JCOs and the jawans follow. On one occasion, even one of your battalion commanders led the charge. Our Colonel sahib’s shout from behind. We still charge because it is a matter if izzat (prestige) for us.”
The message from all that has been said above is simple: We have a very fine Army. Also, people in the Armed Forces face challenges very different from those facing people in the civilian administration. They must, therefore, get the pay and positions in the formal order of precedence they deserve. They have been denied both from the very beginning. Things have doubtless come a long way from the disgraceful days of Krishna Menon as Defence Minister, when an ill-equipped, ill-armed and ill-supplied Army, whose needs had been almost systematically ignored, was sent off to fight the Chinese in the heights of the Himalaya, in some cases in summer uniform. But still, much remains to be done for those who give their today for our tomorrow.
(The writer is Consultant Editor, The Pioneer, and an author)