11
I took over as GOC-in-C Eastern Command on 1 August 1974. I was back in the city of Calcutta where I was born; a city of friendly people and a city I loved. I moved into Army House in Alipore, a large unpretentious bungalow with a common wall abutting Calcutta Zoo. The building was acquired for Gen. Kumaramanglam when he took over as army commander. Kumaramanglam refused to move in, preferring to stay at Watergate House in Fort William. Sam Manekshaw was its first occupant. Incidentally, had I been given the choice I would have preferred to have gone back to Watergate House which I had occupied as chief of staff, Eastern Command.
Soon after I assumed command, the inspector general of police of Mizoram was shot dead in his office by a Mizo insurgent, Kapuchunga. I rushed to Aizwal, reviewed the situation, and ordered a revamping of operations. Meanwhile, in Nagaland the situation was deteriorating. There was an ambush near divisional headquarters and the GOC's 8 Mountain Division's helicopter was hit by small-arms fire. My predecessor had informed the army chief that he had broken the back of the Naga revolt and the two brigades could be withdrawn. These were de-inducted before he left. I assessed the situation. Troops were committed to static posts, leaving no reserves. I requested the army chief for more troops, but he quoted my predecessor's comment that the Naga insurgency had been crushed. I then reorganized the deployment at the various static posts, creating a reserve force of three battalions for mobile operations. I was approached by someone who claimed to be from RAW to use Agent Orange some 50 yards on either side of the main roads. I rejected the idea outright!
During October 1974, our troops partially intercepted a Naga gang on their way to China to collect arms and ammunition. The leading platoon of a Kumaon battalion had Muivah in their sights. They did not fire, awaiting reinforcements. Muivah got away leaving behind his diary. He is still very active and is currently located with his insurgents in Burma. I was amazed to read in his diary about his views on communism. Other documents captured revealed their detailed and thorough system of accounting. Soon after, Joshi of the Intelligence Bureau phoned me that he had class one information that a large gang was assembling to go to China. I asked him if he was sure as I intended to move a large number of troops from within and without Nagaland to intercept this gang. He replied that he was positive and gave me their last known location but was unable to predict their route across Nagaland. I thanked him. For the inner and outer cordons we needed some 8000 troops. I had to recourse to what we did for operations in East Pakistan in 1971, i.e. moving troops from the Chinese border. I ordered an infantry brigade to move directly into the outer cordon. The inner cordon was to be formed by the troops we had made mobile from units in Nagaland. The GOC of the division was on leave so the governor, L.P. Singh, phoned me to recall him. I informed the governor that there was no need to recall him, as I intended to personally oversee the operation. I spoke to the chief minister Vizol Angami and requested him to go to the neighbouring villages near where we expected the gang to move and to ask the villagers not to help them. Vizol was formerly in the underground. Vizol replied, 'What you are asking me to do is to commit political suicide'. I replied that he had earlier told me that the Chinese communists were a godless people so why was he doing nothing to stop them from going to China to collect weapons and to be brainwashed by the Chinese with godless communist propaganda. Vizol stared at me for a few minutes and then replied, 'General I will go; give me a helicopter to take me to these villages'. A helicopter was provided to him, and he as promised visited these villages, and his visits did make an impact. We were able to catch up with the gang near Mokochaung. We cordoned off the area, and while I was camping in the vicinity, the governor phoned asking me to allow Vamuzo, a minister with current links to the underground to negotiate with the gang. I felt that Vamuzo's aim was to gain time and let the gang slip away and told the governor so. The governor then asked me if I had imposed 'martial law'. I replied that he knew very well that we were operating under the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, and as such I declined to let Vamuzo go to negotiate. When the cordon closed in they did not find the gang. The brigade commander, Brig. Kler felt that the gang had got away and recommended that the troops move to the next stop line in Tuensang. I reluctantly agreed, and took a chopper to the Assam Rifles post at Chintungia in the general area where the gang was supposed to be. I spoke to the Gorkha post commander and sought to know how the gang could have broken through. He shook his head, 'Sahib they are still there'. I asked him how he knew. He again replied, 'Sahib I don't know, but I do know that they are still there'. The troops were about to move to their next stop line so I had to make a quick decision. My ADC, Capt. Harbux Singh Gill, handed me some pineapple which the post commander had given him. It was the sweetest pineapple I had ever tasted. I thought for a few minutes and got on the radio to the brigade commander and ordered him to about face and go in again. I told him to fire 3 inch mortar smoke into the area (non-phosphorus). The operation was a success. Apart from one or two, the entire gang was captured. It was indeed a lucky stroke of fate. Mrs Rano Shaiza (Naga leader Phizo's niece) accused me of using poison gas but subsequently recanted and wrote to thank me for what I had done for the Naga people. (See Appendix.)
During an insurgency there are two factors necessary to keep it from developing firm bases and lines of supply of arms and ammunition. We had broken their supply line to China, and then went for their bases in Nagaland. The insurgents were on the run and sent feelers for peace. Meetings were held in Chedema and eventually they agreed to sign the Shillong Accord. The governor asked me or my representative to go to Shillong to sign the Accord but I declined because Clause 3 could provide loopholes in the future for the insurgents to rescind from it (see 'Excerpts from Letters, Rano Shaiza and Governor' in appendix).
The Mizo insurgency was in full swing. The Mizo Hills were originally called the Lushai Hills, lushai meaning long head. We were fortunate in having Ajit Doval, a young Intelligence Bureau (IB) officer. Doval was a livewire and had guts, venturing in disguise into territory controlled by the hostiles. We had some professional differences. I recall one such: the pursuit of Biakvella's gang which was moving from Manipur to Mizoram. I wanted to apprehend them, Doval to negotiate. He did not inform us that he was moving some of them in an IB jeep and I ordered the jeep to be intercepted and the hostiles to be apprehended. There was a hue and cry from Delhi. The army chief, Gen. T.N. 'Tappy' Raina, phoned me to hand them back to the IB. I told him that according to the law, I could interrogate the hostiles for 14 days, after which they were to be handed over to the nearest police station. Raina said I was being difficult, and I told him (he was in my platoon in the Officers Training School and was commissioned some months before me because I was sent for further training to the Artillery School) that he had no 'locus standi' in the matter and that we would hand them over to the nearest police station in accordance with the law and not to the IB. Doval performed excellently in arranging for the hostile leaders to attend a conference in Calcutta. There were protracted negotiations leading to a peace agreement that still stands. Doval was indeed the most outstanding IB officer I had the good fortune to work with. During this period I also dealt with Ramji Kao, who set up the RAW. Kao too was an outstanding officer and a thinker. Later I had arranged to have the Lushai song 'Lendupui' set to music by Joseph as a march, 'Hanste Lushai' (The laugh of the Lushai).
I had known Palden Thendup Namgyal, who became the 12th Chogyal of Sikkim, since 1969. From the earliest times the population of Sikkim was predominantly Lepcha-Bhutia. There were subsequently large influxes of Nepalese, altering ethnic balances. On 5 December 1950, after long negotiations, Sikkim became an Indian protectorate. The Chogyal's first wife Sangey Dei died in June 1957. They had a son Wangchuk. The Chogyal then married an American named Hope Cooke in March 1963. They had two sons Tensing and Palden. Palden Namgyal was crowned Chogyal, after his father's death on 4 April 1965.
Meanwhile, there was much political ferment, some allege instigated by Delhi. Eventually, in 1953, a parity formula for seat sharing in the State Council between the Lepcha-Bhutia combine and the Nepalese was worked out. There was much opposition in Delhi to Hope Cooke. When she left the Chogyal and returned to America, the government of India heaved a sigh of relief. I found the Chogyal a pleasant man, a touch pompous but someone who, if handled properly, would have cooperated. However, the political officers in Gangtok disliked him and worked for his removal. In March 1975, Lt Gen. Jaswant Singh from Army HQ arrived at my office in Fort William on the orders of Kewal Singh, the foreign secretary. He told me that Kewal Singh had instructed him to have the Sikkim Guard disarmed and disbanded as they feared they would help the Chogyal to cross over to China! This was preposterous. Incidentally, earlier when the Chogyal had come to visit me at Command House, Alipore, his car was followed into the building by a truck-load of policemen. I called the assistant commissioner of police in charge and asked him what the problem was. He replied that the police were there to prevent the Chogyal going to China. I told him not to be silly as there was no way the Chogyal could go to China from here and that he should immediately remove his police from my residence. I told Lt Gen. Jaswant Singh that he could go to Gangtok but I would not permit anyone there to deal with him. I then asked him if the army chief knew about this. He said he did not know. I then phoned General Bewoor. Bewoor said he knew nothing about this and that Kewal Singh, the foreign secretary, who was camping at Gangtok should speak to him. The message was passed to Kewal Singh, who said he had no desire to speak to Bewoor. I had a message passed to Kewal Singh that I had issued instructions to the corps and division headquarters that no officer would take orders from him. I sent my brigadier general, staff, Brig. Baljit Mehta to Gangtok, with the brief that only orders from command HQ sent through him would be acted on. I tried to impress on Bewoor that he should convey to the government that a Lepcha Chogyal, even if arrogant, could be handled. Soon after, Bewoor phoned me that the government had decided that the Sikkim Guard would be disarmed as they were a security threat. I said that I knew the Sikkim Guard and they did not constitute any threat whatsoever. He said these were the orders of the government. I asked for this to be given in writing. He said that there would be nothing in writing, only verbal orders. I was most unhappy about the whole affair. I spoke to Brig. Baljit Singh to work out with the Division HQ the modalities to disarm the Guard, stressing that the operation should be bloodless. Unfortunately, one of the sentries of the palace guard fired at our troops and was shot dead. The armoury was seized and the guard disarmed and later disbanded. The Chogyal was in tears. He dipped a cloth into the blood of a soldier and requested time and time again for the colours and standard of the Guard to be given to him. This was refused by the government. The entire incident was unnecessary and deplorable. It was given out again and again that the Chogyal would use the guard to escort him to China! (The guard, armed only with rifles, was just 200 strong!). Later the Chogyal's son Tensing had a shout out with his father and thrashed him, whereupon the Chogyal in despair took an overdose of sleeping pills. I was informed of this and immediately ordered an army helicopter to fly him to the airport to be airlifted to Calcutta. He was admitted to a private hospital where, after a few days, he recovered consciousness. I met Tensing outside his room in the hospital, unrepentant. The Chogyal died in 1982 and Tensing was killed in a car accident on 11 March 1978. Some have alleged that the latter was not an accident.
Capt W.A. Sangma was chief minister of Meghalaya, heading the APHLC, a regional political party in the early 1970s. He was a competent chief minister and led a clean government. We had a very good working relationship and met frequently in Shillong. He, after some time, came to see me in Calcutta. He had taken over as chief minister on 18 March 1972. One evening in 1976 he called me in Calcutta asking for my advice. He said that the Congress party wanted his party to join them. I asked him whether he wanted to, to which he replied in the negative. I said that he should do whatever he considered to be right.
Two weeks later he joined the Congress. When I met him later I asked him what had made him change his mind. He replied that it had been conveyed to him that if he did not join the Congress there would be very serious consequences. Later, during one of my meetings with Indira Gandhi at Raj Bhawan, Shillong, the subject turned to the regional governments in the NE. Indira Gandhi said that these regional governments should all join the Congress. I mentioned that in these areas of insurgency it would be more expedient to have a nationalist regional government through which the central government could deal with these insurgents rather than dealing with them directly. Mrs Gandhi was firm in her view that regional governments should join the Congress, as had the Sangma government. I said: 'Madam Prime Minister, I get more cooperation from these regional governments than any of the Congress governments.' It was a tactless remark and Mrs Gandhi was furious. After a while she calmed down and said, 'Go on'. I replied that I wondered whether she would like me to tell her what she would like to hear, rather what the realities were. She did not respond. Mrs Gandhi enjoyed having a break in Raj Bhawan, Shillong. I had to brief her several times there and have the highest regard for her. She had great courage and dignity. She sometimes relaxed and spoke about her children, Rajiv and Sanjay. She mentioned that Sanjay did not eat between meals, but that Rajiv snacked often in between them. She confided to me that her favourite musical was Fiddler on the Roof and once asked me why the Jews were leaving India. I did not answer.
Here I must mention one particular exchange regarding the Golden Temple. I strongly advised against any forcible entry into the Golden Temple, mentioning to L.K. Jha that in 1922-3 there were some problems the British had with a gurdwara a few miles north of Amritsar. They put a barbed wire fence around it and controlled entry to the temple but did not enter the temple. This was duly conveyed to Mrs Gandhi by Jha. Most unfortunately the Golden Temple was forcibly entered with heavy loss of life.
After this event Mrs Gandhi sent for me but the message was not conveyed to me by Narasimha Rao who was dealing with Punjab on behalf of the party. Narasimha Rao sent for me and asked me to tour Punjab and give him a brief for Mrs Gandhi. I spent seven days touring Punjab, having discussions with all sections of the people there, and gave the report to Rao. Discussions of my recommendations were spread over two days, and that is the last I heard of the matter.
In my opinion, in the matter of imposing the Emergency, Mrs Indira Gandhi was badly advised by S.S. Ray, the chief minister of West Bengal. Ray boasted that he was close to Mrs Gandhi and that not only had he advised her on its imposition but had drafted the ordinance.
One of my concerns during my tenure as GOC-in-C Eastern Command was the large-scale infiltration of Bangladeshis into Assam and Tripura. On a visit to Agartala, the chief secretary informed me that the chief minister of Tripura, Sen Gupta, was openly encouraging the entry of Bangladeshis into Tripura in order to change the ethnic balances in order to counter tribal votes. I went to see the chief minister and apprised him of this infiltration. He said that he had the 'blessings of Mrs Gandhi for this'. I checked with the army chief who reverted after a few hours that no such approval had been given. I then went to see the chief minister with the chief secretary. He asked the chief secretary to leave, but I told the chief minister that it was important that he be present. I then went on to tell the chief minister that I had checked with Delhi and that no approval had been given for the induction of Bangladeshis into Tripura. He scowled: 'How does this affect you?' I replied that this infiltration was a threat to national security and as I was responsible to the government for national security, this unauthorized induction would have to stop. I would ask the Border Security Force to take the necessary steps to stop this illegal immigration. We then left his office.
In another serious case in West Bengal, I was asked to meet R. Parthasarathy, foreign policy adviser to the prime minister and the foreign secretary, Jagat Mehta. Jagat Mehta informed me that 'Tiger Siddiqui' of the 1971 war notoriety, who had publicly bayoneted people he called traitors a few days after the surrender, was in West Bengal with an armed group of his followers. Siddiqui was thoroughly untrustworthy and I was at a loss to understand what he was doing here. I told Jagat to tell Parthasarathy that I could not for reasons of national security accept this. Jagat replied that Parthasarathy would not listen to him and that I should tell him. I went up to Parthasarathy and told him that this was unacceptable.
He looked at me and pouted his lips, not responding. I said that as I was responsible for the security in the region I could not accept having an armed group of foreigners on Indian soil. He just stared at me. I then said that I would evict them. Siddiqui and his armed gang of followers moved back to Bangladesh shortly after.
When I took over command, a Congress government was in place in Writers' Building, headed by Siddartha Shankar Ray with whom I was on first-name terms. Ray was a thorough gentleman, something of a social snob who frequently referred to his elite family background. He did not drink or smoke, and was very fond of sports, particularly cricket. A day before the 'Emergency' was declared he called me over the phone and said, 'Jake I have some very confidential information for your ears only; there is going to be an emergency'. I was at a loss to understand what he was talking about. I retorted, 'Siddharth, what emergency; I was driving around Calcutta, everything was normal.' He responded, 'You will see tomorrow. There will be a national emergency throughout the country.' The Emergency was declared the next day and Ray had a major role in advising it and in drafting the emergency orders.
Ray thought he could ride roughshod over everyone. He came to official functions well past the designated time and deliberately after the arrival of the governor, John Dias, a former ICS officer. When I asked Ray why he behaved in this way, he replied 'I treat him as my doormat'.
Ray decided to build a pavilion in the Eden Gardens Cricket stadium without clearance from the army. Eden Gardens is part of the 'Maidan' and under the army's control. It is governed by the Fort William Act, promulgated by the British to ensure that the fields of fire from the Fort William cannon of an earlier day were unhampered. Magisterial powers were vested with the garrison commander. On seeing the report in the newspapers I summoned the commissioner of police, rebuked him, and ordered him to issue a warrant stopping work on the pavilion. A few days later Ray telephoned me asking me to discuss some matters in his office in Writers' Buildings. I entered his office and he asked me to be seated. He passed the warrant on to me. I looked at it and said that it had been issued under my orders. He said, 'But Jake I am the chief minister.' I retorted, 'You have no more right to build on the Maidan than I have to build a penthouse on top of your "Writers' buildings".' He replied, 'But the pavilion is necessary.' I said, 'I agree and would have sanctioned it had you asked for sanction, but you did not.' He replied, 'I will speak to Bansi Lal, the defence minister.' He picked up the phone and spoke to the minister. He then put down the phone, smiled, and said, 'Bansi Lal says that if you agree he will agree.' I said the question of Bansi Lal agreeing did not arise as powers are only entrusted to the garrison commander under the Fort William Act. He then came back, 'I am looking for someone like you to run Calcutta and its environs. When are you retiring?' This upset me even more. I replied, 'Chief minister, I do not require a job from you when I retire,' and took my leave.
The chief minister approached Indira Gandhi. Gen. Raina, the army chief phoned asking me to grant permission. I told him that he had no locus standi in this matter and I would do what had to be done. several other approaches were made. After two months, the chief minister asked me to attend a meeting with him and the minister concerned. The meeting was cordial. I had come prepared with my proposals for a resolution of the matter. I said we would permit construction subject to:
(a) As the state government had encroached on 1.5 acres of land on the Maidan, it would have to hand over 78 acres of land in the Salt Lake area. This figure was based on the then value of land in the respective areas.
(b) A specific number of seats would be reserved for the army in the pavilion and stadiums.
(c) The concrete stand, illegally built on the Mohan Bagan ground, would be used by spectators from the army.
(d) The other minor encroachments would be removed.
(e) A percentage of the gate money from grounds on the Maidan would be spent on army welfare.
The chief minister retorted, 'Jake I did not realize you were a real estate agent.' I ignored the remark and said, 'This is a final offer, take it or leave it.' Ray's prestige was at stake in relation to the construction of the pavilion. He looked at me and said, 'Jake you are a tough man.' I immediately sent a survey party to fence in the 78 acres. (Today the West Bengal government is requesting the army to swap the land with alternative land in Behala). By the time I left, the state government implemented all the stipulated conditions, except that relating to gate money. Siddharth, when alive, and his charming wife, Maya, were amongst my small circle of close friends. I have the highest regard for both. I called on them on 17 December 2010 at their residence in Calcutta. Regrettably Ray passed away recently.
The Congress ministry was replaced by a Marxist one headed by Jyoti Basu. I got on well with Jyoti Basu and his government. They were pragmatic and easy to work with and made no demands. Jyoti Basu was a pragmatic statesman.
Bansi Lal was the defence minister and with him I established an excellent rapport. He required an hour's briefing on every visit of his to Calcutta. Briefings took place in the operations room at Fort William. I took him around the command for him to get a feel of the problems our troops were facing. We toured Mizoram, Tripura, Manipur, Nagaland, Assam, Arunachal, and Sikkim. When visiting the Se La defences we ran into the memorial tablet of the late Brig. Hoshiar Singh, who was killed during the operations. Bansi Lal turned round to me, 'General Sahib, don't you agree that Jats are the world's best soldiers'. I paused, and then replied that anyone with good training and motivation could make a good soldier. He was still looking at me for an answer. I then said that if he asked me which units excelled in the operations in East Pakistan I could tell him. He said, 'Which units?' I replied, 'The Bihar Regiment'. He gave a grunt. We walked down the line of soldiers. He asked one of them where he was from. He replied that he was from Ranchi. Bansi Lal put his arm around my shoulder and said, 'General Sahib, from your home place'.
Bansi Lal was pragmatic and had a sound understanding of the geo-military environment. I explained to him why it was necessary to control the entry and exits from the straits of Malacca. In 1971, the American Enterprise carrier group had moved through the straits of Malacca, through the great channel between Sumatra and the Great Nicobar and into the Indian Ocean. Our navy from their base in Campbell Bay were wholly unaware of its move. I told him that to control the straits of Malacca it was essential to have an air base in the Indira Point area. He agreed and sent a group of secretaries to examine the proposal. Up to now there has been no progress! Apparently there are concerns regarding Indonesian and Malayan reactions to our setting up a base there.
Jagjivan Ram, on one of his visits to Calcutta, asked me why I was providing a vehicle to Manekshaw on his business visits to Calcutta, saying that he had not been authorized a vehicle as field marshal. I replied that I was not providing him a vehicle as field marshal, but was providing a vehicle to all former Eastern Command army commanders, and Manekshaw was a former army commander.
Prinsep Ghat, on the River Hoogly, was under demolition to make way for a bridge. James Prinsep, a most distinguished scholar, had been able to decipher the inscriptions on the Ashoka pillars, which had till then been an enigma. Two granite lions decorated the ghat, one sleeping and one awake. I requested Chief Minister Jyoti Basu that they be given to the army in Fort William. Jyoti Basu readily agreed. Today they grace the entrance to the HQ Eastern Command Officers' Mess.
The mess was sparsely furnished. I donated my family mahogany dining table with dining chairs to seat thirty-six, a rosewood table to seat twelve, four marble-top tables, a roll-top desk, six old Chinese scrolls, and some modern paintings. I had spent the most important years of my life in Fort William, both as chief of staff and as army commander and attempted in some small measure to give back to the command to which I owed so much.
To raise money for the welfare of troops I organized a tattoo in Eden Gardens, moving in troops, tanks, and guns. This caused great consternation as it was rumoured that I was planning to stage a coup to take over the country! The commissioner of police told me that he had counted five tanks. I jokingly responded: 'One each for the five point crossing.' The Tattoo was a sell-out, and enabled us to raise a very large sum of money which we distributed for the welfare of the troops.
Meetings with Foreign Military Delegations
In early 1977, I was informed that an Iranian military delegation comprising some twenty senior officers had requested to meet me and be briefed on mountain warfare and also on mobile operations. The delegation was led by the chief of army staff of the Iranian army, Gen. Abbassi Gharabaghi who claimed to also have links with the Savak, their intelligence organization. He was after the Shah, the most powerful man in Iran and was accompanied by his young wife. I briefed them on mobile operations.
We arranged demonstrations and lectures on mountain warfare in Sikkim. They were charmed by the beautiful environment of Sikkim and the unique culture of the people. They spent a great deal of time shopping, surprisingly for Sikkim-made carpets!
The delegation was very keen to return to Calcutta where a they frequented the Golden Slipper night club and other places of entertainment. They spent a great deal of time shopping in the various boutiques, buying expensive jewellery, silks, and other accessories.
I was taken aback when the I was told by Army Chief Abbassi that he did not trust his own army or their loyalty to the Shah. I reported this to Army HQ in Delhi as also to some diplomats of friendly countries in Calcutta. After some two weeks, the delegation left Calcutta. Other than Eastern Command, the delegation did not visit any other command. Gen. Abbassi died in exile in Paris some years later. Some six months thereafter, in July 1977, I received a phone call from the army chief in Delhi that an Iraqi military delegation had arrived in Delhi and had asked to meet me. I enquired what they wanted to discuss. They indicated that they wanted to meet me personally and have a private discussion with me, declining to provide further details. A delegation headed by Maj. Gen. Najdat Kassim Maksoud and some ten senior officers arrived at Fort William on 9 July 1977. After an exchange of pleasantries, Gen. Maksoud said that he knew of the campaign I had conducted in East Pakistan and also of my record in the Second World War, particularly of the amphibious operations in which I had participated. He was quite aware that I had had a brief spell of operational service in Iraq during the Second World War in 1942. He was also aware that my forbears had come from Iraq some 200 years earlier and that I was Jewish.
To my surprise he rolled out a map of the Shatt al Arab and placed it on my table. He then said that his government was aware of my military expertise and had sought my advice on how to counter an expected Iranian amphibious operation on the Ismuthus of Al Faw. I thought for a few minutes after studying the map, and said that as far as I was aware the Iranians did not have the amphibious capability to make such a landing. He then insisted that they would make the necessary arrangements, and asked what defensive measures they should take. I gave them some parameters for defensive measures in such an unlikely contingency, and went on to tell them that if the Iranians were to launch an offensive there, they should enter through the marshes. They questioned this and wanted to know how. I replied, 'In small boats.' They were not convinced, and the Iraqi delegation returned to Iraq shortly after. Many years later in the latter stages of the Iraqi-Iranian war, the Iranians did operate from small boats in the marshes.
I retired from the army on 31 July 1978 on completion of my four-year tenure as army commander. I drove out through East Gate, bringing back memories of the summer of 1941 when I had cycled through the then Plassey Gate to be interviewed for a commission in the Indian Army. I felt sorry to leave: thirty-seven years of soldiering had come to an abrupt end.