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The Defence services staff College was located at Wellington in the Nilgiri hills in south India. We took the narrow gauge mountain railway train to Wellington station, winding through the lovely countryside, past coconut and areca-nut plantations and manicured tea bushes. The commandant, Maj. Gen. Joe Lentaigne had as a brigadier served under Maj. Gen. Orde Wingate during the Chindit operations in Burma, assuming command of the force after Wingate was killed in an air crash. He did not get on with Wingate whom he considered to be a poseur and charlatan. He also disliked General 'Vinegar' Joe Stillwell with whom he had serious differences on the conduct of operations in north Burma, and considered him to be a narrow-minded Anglophobe with tunnel vision, unable to grasp the overall strategic priorities.
The initiative for setting up an inter-services staff College for the army, navy, and air force was taken by Lord Louis Mountbatten, who had earlier, during the second World War, been largely responsible for the initial impetus for combined operations. The groundwork and establishment of this institution was the work of Joe Lentaigne. The staff College is today internationally recognized as one of the premier institutions of its kind. Much of the credit for this should go to Lentaigne.
I remember his human side. I was having problems with one of the instructors from the Army service Corps who wrote a long-winded critique in red ink on a thesis I had written, with a final comment 'waffle' which he underlined. This instructor had never taken part in any operation, serving in non-combat zones. I wrote 'waffle' against his long-winded comments and forgot about it. sometime later he called for our papers to put the best and worst to the commandant. He was furious to see my comment on his note, and sent it to the commandant. I was told that the commandant wished to see me. Lentaigne had gone through the relevant papers and removed his reading glasses and looked me up and down. I was expecting a severe dressing down, but was taken aback when he said, 'Jacob, you must learn to suffer fools'. Joe Lentaigne took a liking to me and would often discuss the Chindit operations in Burma with me. He was a soldier of the old school, and I learnt much from him.
I made many friends at the staff College. This was to stand me in good stead in later years. I was originally assigned as brigade major of an infantry brigade, but this was changed to command of 75 Patiala Mountain Battery. I was instructed to report to Brig. Kumaramangalam (K) at Delhi before assuming command. Brig K briefed me on why he was sending me to command the battery. Patiala Mountain Battery had been part of Patiala State Forces and was merged with the Indian Army after independence. 'K' told me that the men had shot and killed a junior commissioned officer and the battery havildar (sergeant) major, and that I should sort out the battery. The battery was spread out from Udhampur, where there was a rear detachment, to Tangdhar, a distance of several hundred miles, and its guns were deployed in two locations. A troop of 25 pounder field guns was put under my command. A mountain battery was one of the finest commands a major could hope for, and designated the 'Corps de elite of the gunners. Earlier, in 1950, at Army HQ, I had designed a special lanyard for the mountain artillery, and this was later authorized for all ranks of the artillery. Today this lanyard has been hijacked by various police formations and, sadly, by personnel of private security agencies. I had worked with mountain batteries in Burma and was impressed by their elan. A mountain battery was manned by four officers, three junior commissioned officers, and 275 men. A signal section with a veterinary officer and regimental medical officer were also assigned together with 96 mules and 25 chargers. I had since my childhood loved horses and, as a boy in Calcutta, used to exercise race horses at a local stable. I soon got to love the mules too. The mountain artillery mules were specially bred as they had to carry heavy loads; very few of them could carry the cradle, a top load. Life in a mountain battery was hard; terribly hard. Mules and horses required constant attention, with regular feeding and grooming. Mules, I found, were far more intelligent than horses. Over rough terrain a mule, unlike a horse, would feel and prod its way to check whether the going was safe. initially, mountain artillery gun mules were obtained from Missouri in the US and later from South Africa.
Tangdhar in the Kashmir Valley was on the far side of the Nastachun Pass, at a height of over 10,000 ft. Given the heavy winter snows, the dirt road winding through the pass is closed for six months. Avalanches were frequent and therefore crossing the pass to stock provisions for the winter was quite an adventure. Our battery had to provide fire support over a very large area, from Nastachun Pass, Tutmari gali right down to Kishenganga river. The deodar (cedar) forest ridges were lovely. I enjoyed visiting the numerous piquets spread along the mountain ridges.
The class composition of the battery was Sikh, Jat, and Lobana. initially, I found them somewhat difficult to handle but I was soon able to gain their confidence, trust, and respect. They were tough and dependable, and excellent gunners.
In the summer of 1952, the battery was ordered to move to Poonch via Jammu, several hundred-road miles away, a very long march. We covered some 20 miles a day. It was a difficult routine: up early morning, water and feed the horses and mules, saddle up, load and march to the next camping ground. Our advance party in vehicles would set up camp and prepare the evening meal. On arrival, the animals were watered, fed, and groomed; only after that could the men have their meal. This went on day after day until we reached Poonch some three weeks later. As the men marched I forbade officers to ride, remembering how we as cadets had cursed our company commander for sitting smugly astride his charger.
Poonch was the scene of heavy fighting in 1948. Poonch was known for its fort and palace, and we camped in a delightful garden, Rani Bagh. The fort was a semi ruin, and we were given charge of it for use as an ammunition dump. The battery's operational responsibility was spread over a very large area. The brigade commander, Brig. Rawat was commissioned in Jammu & Kashmir state Forces. He was physically tough and energetic, and we used to visit all the defence locations atop the ridges. I learnt a great deal from him. One of the things he drove home was that in mountain warfare counter-attacks were extremely difficult to mount and therefore a better alternative was to reinforce the position under attack. Rawat was replaced by a brigadier from the Army service Corps. I was sorry to see him go.
The divisional commander was scheduled to visit. He liked to see his photograph prominently displayed. There was only one photograph of his in the brigade. After each visit to a unit, a dispatch rider would in turn transport the photograph to the next unit to be visited. The general was also fond of inspecting the unit quarter guard. We had a problem; we only had one trumpeter and he was on leave. The infantry units used the bugle. The general was entitled to a general salute before inspecting the quarter guard. The previous evening I went round the lines asking if anyone could sound the trumpet calls. One old mule leader said he could sound the 'stables' call but not the general's salute. The calls on the bugle and trumpet are different. I told the soldier to play the stables call, confident that the general would not know the difference. The inspection went off well, the general leaving in a good mood. That night I was asked to the brigade mess for dinner and after dinner bridge. The brigade commander normally partnered the general, and he advised me that the general liked to win. I replied that I too liked to win. The general lost a modest sum and gruffly told me that his aide-de-camp would settle later. I replied that it was customary to settle wins and losses at the table. He frowned, took out his wallet, and settled. I was never again invited to play bridge at the brigade officers' mess.
The battery was camping outside Poonch when we were visited by the brigadier, Artillery of HQ Western Command, Brig. Anup Singh Kalha. I had met him during the second World War when he was a captain and I a major. Later, when sent to report on one of his units, he shouted at me 'Jacob, are you commanding this unit or I?' I responded, 'Brigadier, neither you nor I are commanding this unit, the commanding officer is standing there', pointing to him. The brigadier arrived at our tented mess for dinner. He made numerous demands for a variety of things. He then tasted the soup and said, 'Jacob this is barley soup!', implying that I was serving him barley from the mule rations. I replied that if he did not like his soup he need not have it. Other unpleasant exchanges followed. I could take it no more and said, 'Brigadier, kindly leave this mess'. He then shouted, 'You will parade your battery, mules, guns ready for war for my inspection at 0600 hours tomorrow morning!'. I replied that I would do no such thing as he was only a staff officer and had no authority to issue such orders. I asked 2/Lt Satnam Singh (retd Lt Gen.) to escort him to his jeep. He visited the unit in the morning and found fault with everything he saw. I kept my cool. Before he left he asked me for a packed lunch. As he had commented nastily on our mess food, I told the senior JCO to put some vegetable curry and four chappatis from the men's cookhouse wrapped in newspaper in his jeep. Some time later division HQ sent me a copy of his technical report for me to comment on. It read as follows: 'This officer is well below average. He has no knowledge of gunnery or administration. He has to be spoon-fed', and so it went on and on. A full page of negative comments! I had done a gunnery staff course in the UK and had taught gunnery at the school of Artillery for three years and was a graduate of the Defence services staff College (Anup Singh had no qualifications whatsoever). I sent my reply: 'Brig Anup Singh is entitled to his opinions.' Many years later, in 1957, when he was subarea commander in Ambala, there was an enquiry being conducted against him. I invited him to my mess. He asked me, 'Jacob, why do people not like me?' I replied, 'Why should they; what good have you done that they should like you?'. He said, 'Jacob, you don't understand. When I was in 1 Field Regiment as a captain, one day on the ranges I was at the OP, Captain Summanwar was at the gun position. Summanwar fired a wrong round. My British commanding officer Horsfield fixed me. After that anyone who reminded me of Horsfield I fixed.' I responded, 'So many officers must have reminded you of Horsfield'. He retired shortly thereafter.
From Poonch the battery moved to Rajouri. We camped near the grassy airstrip below the old fort. Here we were able to get the most out of our horses. We practised handy hunter jumping and show jumping, and used the airstrip to race. Some time later I was taken aback to receive a bill from the military engineering services amounting to several thousand rupees for damages alleged to have been caused to the airstrip by the hooves of our horses. This was disputed by us and ignored. No penalty was paid.
I had completed two years in command of the mountain battery and was expecting to go as brigade major of an infantry brigade but was surprised to receive a phone call from Brig. Kumaramangalam, the Director of Artillery, that he was sending me, at the request of Brig. K.P. Candeth, the commander of 1st Artillery Brigade of 1st Armoured Division, as his brigade major. Apparently the performance of the brigade during recent manoeuvres had come in for a great deal of adverse criticism. I reported to 1st Armoured Artillery Brigade at Jullundur. The division moved shortly after to Jhansi. It was early 1954. The move of our brigade headquarters was enjoyable. We had opportunities en route to shoot partridge, sand grouse, and duck for the pot. Jhansi was to become the home of the armoured division.
Jhansi cantonment was established by the British after the Mutiny of 1857. Jhansi Fort, a most impressive and formidable structure, was famous for its association with the gallant Rani of Jhansi, one of India's most revered freedom fighters, who was killed in battle. Her body was later found dressed as a soldier. The Rani has a special place in Indian history, and is indeed a legend. Big game hunting was legally licenced then. I shot a tiger and several leopards, the latter at the request of the villagers as these leopards were preying on their goats. On one such trip I came across a leopard cub apparently lost. I looked around for the mother with no success. I got permission from the authorities to rear the cub and named her Sabrina.
I was fortunate to have bought a custom-built MG four-seater sports car which had been earlier owned by a former ruler of a small princely state. It was a pleasure to drive and had a light aluminium body and independent jacking controlled from the cab. The commander, artillery brigade, Brig. K.P. Candeth was a soldier of the old school. We got on well, remained in close touch, and our friendship lasted throughout his life. His death some years ago naturally saddened me. I was indeed fortunate in having a close rapport with both Candeth and Kumaramanglam, both officers with great love for the Regiment of Artillery.
I had got an out-of-turn promotion to major in Burma. After independence, promotions were governed by the date of one's commission. Fortunately for me the government decided to raise more artillery regiments, and after a tenure of 11 years as a major, I was promoted in May 1956 to the rank of Lt Colonel and assigned to raise the 3rd Field Regiment in Delhi Cantonment. I drove to Delhi from Jhansi with Sabrina, my leopard, sitting beside me. On reporting to the area commander, I requested that some accommodation be provided to enable me to commence raising the regiment, for which officers and men were beginning to arrive. I requested the area commander to allot me some barracks. His attitude was far from friendly. He told me that my regiment was not one of the units that was on his order of battle, and he was not therefore in a position to allot any accommodation. I knew the commanding officer of 19 Heavy Anti-aircraft Regiment and requested him to help out. He most generously loaned two of his barracks.
We commenced raising. After a few weeks, the infantry battalion located in makeshift lines on the northern outskirts of the city at Anand Parbat was ordered to move out. I requested the general, Maj. Gen. V.C. Dubey, to allot to me these lines that were to be vacated. After much discussion he reluctantly agreed with the proviso that I would vacate the lines as and when required by him. I readily agreed, aware that 'possession is nine-tenths of the law'. I had known Maj. Gen. Dubey earlier when my mountain battery was part of his division and was destined to serve as his principal general staff officer again two years later.
Raising a regiment from scratch is hard work. We had to create the infrastructure as well as weld the officers and men into a viable entity. Fortunately there was an artillery range at Tuglakabad nearby. We were able to carry out live firing practices with our dependable 25-pounder guns. The 25 pounder developed prior to the second World War was the standard equipment of the field artillery and was used extensively in almost all theatres of operations. It continued in service into the 1980s and served as the artillery's work-horse. We were all saddened to see it phased out. After some six months the regiment was exercised both tactically and technically, and declared 'fit for war'. During this camp, the residents of a village near Qutub Minar asked me to shoot a leopard which was carrying away goats from the village. I examined the pugmarks on the outskirts of the village and arrived there just before sunset and took up position amongst some bushes a little distance from the pugmarks. It was getting dark. After half an hour I noticed a slight movement in the bushes a few yards ahead and fired. The leopard leapt at me, but fortunately I was able to fire another round to stop him. The villagers were delighted and thanked me profusely. I sent the skin to the famous taxidermists Van Ingen and Van Ingen in Mysore. This mounted skin was presented later to the Artillery school, Deolali.
The unit was raised from Static Post Groups (small artillery sub-units) in Jammu & Kashmir. The Post Groups were manned by the throwouts from all units. I went to see a colleague and requested him to issue an amendment to the letter of raising. I told him that no one would discover it. The amendment read 'for all India read Sikh', and was issued. 3rd Field became an all Sikh Regiment and there was no fallout.
The regiment was visited by Maj. Gen. B.K. (Biji) Kaul, an officer of the Army service Corps, who had cultivated and impressed the defence minister, V.K. Krishna Menon. Kaul claimed to be related to Prime Minister Nehru. He informed me that he was asking for my regiment to be allotted to his division as, according to him, he had heard that I was a competent officer. We moved to Ambala where Kaul's 4 infantry Division was located. The division had an outstanding record during the second World War in the Middle East and Burma and was one of the crack divisions of the army.
We moved into barracks that were originally constructed as stables, without electricity and other standard amenities. The division was to be exercised by the command headquarters. Kaul, whose knowledge of operations at divisional level was minimal, called me for preliminary discussions on the handling of the division in the manoeuvres that were being organized to test the division. shortly after, a Chinese military delegation was to visit. Kaul ordered me to organize a fire-power demonstration of the divisional artillery. During the banquet organized for the visitors I was taken aback by the remarks of a Chinese general that 'China would never forget that Indian troops took part in the sacking and looting of the summer Palace during the 2nd Opium war'. He went on to make other contentious remarks. This was in 1958 when the slogan being bandied about by politicians was 'Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai (Indians and Chinese are brothers). I reported the conversation but was told by Kaul that I must have misunderstood the Chinese general. I replied that I had not. Kaul did little to conceal his resentment. There were other signals of Chinese hostility, but these too were brushed aside by the politicians. Kaul was to be later humiliated and forced to retire after his incompetent and disastrous planning, first as chief of the general staff, and later in command of the combat forces that were ordered by Jawaharlal Nehru and Krishna Menon to evict the Chinese. interestingly, during the second World War, Kaul worked with an organization that provided entertainment for Indian troops in the war zone.
Kaul was a political general, militarily incompetent and over-ambitious. He used his political connections to bypass his seniors and influence policy. I recall one particular occasion when he invited Lt Col Eric Vas, an infantry battalion commander, and me for tea. We were stunned by the proposal he made to us, namely, that he was selecting officers of talent to form part of a core group he was recruiting. We fidgeted, trying first to figure out what he was driving at and how to respond. We had earlier heard of some talk about this special group. I looked at Vas, who winked knowingly. I then replied, 'Sir, as officers of your division, it is our bounden duty to further the interests of the division and army'. He snapped back, 'You damn well know what I mean; I want your total commitment to me.' Both Vas and I managed to beat a hasty retreat, leaving untouched the sumptuous tea laid out!
The division was very short of married accommodation, funds for building being scarce. Kaul told Krishna Menon that he would build the accommodation at minimum cost using troop labour. I objected to Kaul's demands, saying that my unit was a newly raised one and that I required time for training and, as such, we could not provide manpower for his building projects. Other confrontations took place and there was much tension. Kaul hit back at the regiment by instructing his military police to book our gunners for alleged violations. I was most unhappy and at one point considering resigning. Gen. Kumaramanglam heard about this and as my minimum tenure as a commanding officer was about to be completed, he had me assigned to take over as general staff officer grade (GSO) 1 of HQ Delhi and Rajasthan area.
The Delhi and Rajasthan area comprised of the whole of Rajasthan and the Union Territory of Delhi, the seat of the government of India. The area was responsible for the defence of the complete border with Pakistan from Barmer in the south to the Punjab. To carry out its task it was allotted a variety of troops, ranging from infantry brigades, armoured regiments, field artillery, and anti-aircraft regiments, camel-mounted infantry, and a horse-cavalry regiment. The central government in Delhi made numerous demands, calling out the army to assist with floods, running the water supply, and providing manpower for tasks which were not of a military nature. We were even required to provide horses and soldiers for the film Mughal-e-Azam.
The area was commanded by Maj. Gen. U.C. Dubey as GSO 1. I was responsible for operations and training. Another Lt Col was responsible for administration. Today, the Delhi area consists only of the Union Territory of Delhi, but the staff is several times as large as that of the former Delhi and Rajasthan area.
This assignment was productive and enjoyable. We set exercises for troops spread throughout Rajasthan. The UNCTAD conference was scheduled to be held in Delhi and there were reports that Delhi's water supply was contaminated. The prime minister was most concerned and directed that the army take control of the water supply. The defence minister summoned me to his office as the general was not contactable.
Krishna Menon then ordered the army to operate and maintain the Delhi water supply. When I protested that I knew nothing about water supply, Menon sarcastically retorted that I could learn. Brig. Noshir B. Grant of the Engineers and I visited the site at Wazirabad. Grant found that the intake for the water supply on the river Yamuna was some 50 yards upstream of a sewage outlet. The problem was soon solved by constructing a baffle wall separating the intake and outlet. Menon insisted on daily quality reports on the purity of the water. The task was time-consuming, so we made a representation that as the water supply had returned to normal, it should be handed back to the civic authorities. Menon did not agree. Some six months later Krishna Menon, accompanied by Gen. Thimayya, was visiting us to witness a demonstration. I told Menon that as the water supply was back to normal, its operation should be handed back to the authorities concerned. There was no reply. I repeated the request for a second and third time. Menon turned back, looked me up and down and remarked in his usual sarcastic manner, 'Colonel, I heard you the first time'. A few days later we were ordered to hand back the water supply to the authorities concerned.
A team from the Armalite factory in the US was in Delhi to promote their light-weight 5.56 mm weapons system. I was ordered to carry out the trials in Delhi and found it a very good weapon system. After comprehensive and exhaustive trials we recommended it for introduction. The system had not yet been bought by any country and the Armalite team indicated that they would consider participating in joint production in India. I was shocked at the response from the infantry directorate, opining that the rifle was unsuitable because it did not meet one of the general staff's requirements, of firing a four-inch group at 100 yards, the weapon firing a six inch group. More amazingly, they eventually rejected the rifle because it was unsuitable for ceremonial drill. This weapon system was later adopted by the American armed forces (M 16) and several other armies. The Indian Army opted to manufacture a virtual copy of the heavier Belgian FN rifle, which was more suitable for ceremonial drill. After some thirty years the Indian ordnance factories produced its version of the Armalite, the 5.56 mm INSAS rifle. This rifle is yet to overcome all its teething troubles and it will be years before all units are equipped with it.
Krishna Menon did little to conceal his dislike for the US, refusing to consider purchasing the proven Lockheed C130, opting instead for the British Avro 748. The Avro 748 is being phased out and the C130 is now been inducted into service. Krishna Menon's tenure as defence minister was to prove a disaster for the armed forces. He did little to modernize their weapons and equipment and attempted to politiclize the forces by promoting and placing in key positions some politically motivated officers of dubious capability. Gen. Thimayya objected to this policy and put in his resignation. His military assistant, Lt Col S.Y. Munshi was a colleague and friend. I often used to visit him at Army House, the residence of the Chief of Army staff and sometimes the chief used to call him for discussions. I knew Thimayya from our meetings in the Arakan with my previous commanding officer, John Daniells, the commander, Royal Artillery and officiating commander of 25 Infantry Division. Munshi used to ask me to accompany him whenever I was there. Later, at one such meeting, Thimayya seemed agitated and perturbed. He had put in his papers due to the unwarranted interference and cavalier behaviour of Krishna Menon. He said that Prime Minister Nehru had called him and requested him to take back his resignation. Munshi advised him against withdrawal. Thimayya then said that Nehru had pleaded with him, saying that his resignation would cause a crisis in the country, and that in the national interest he should withdraw his resignation. Thimayya unfortunately took back his resignation. Later in parliament Nehru chided Thimayya, accusing him of being impetuous for one day resigning and on the following day taking back his resignation. Such is the world of politics. Thereafter, Thimayya was a 'lame duck'. Army chief K.K. Thimayya was the most brilliant combat officer the army had produced and had distinguished himself by commanding a brigade in operations in the Arakan. Later, during operations in Jammu & Kashmir, it was his 'guts' and audacious and systematic clearing of Zojila that saved Ladakh. He was a soldiers' soldier unlike some of the political, public relations-oriented army chiefs, bending backwards to accede to the whims and fancies of their political masters.
I was detailed to attend the Advanced Artillery and Missile course at Fort Sill, Oklahama and Fort Bliss, Texas in the US. I was surprised to be summoned by Defence Minister Krishna Menon for a briefing. It was indeed exceptional for the minister to interview officers prior to attending a foreign course. He embarked upon a long tirade against the US, pausing only to offer me a cup of tea and some biscuits. Krishna Menon's staff, on his frequent visits to the cantonment, insisted that the minister be served English biscuits with his tea, of which he drank numerous cups throughout the day. We had to go to a lot of trouble to find English biscuits. I picked up the biscuit expecting to see an English brand but it proved to be a perfectly good Indian one!
Menon saw the smirk on my face and gave me a filthy look. He continued with his tirade. I then asked him why, if he indeed felt that way about the US, was he sending me to do a course of instruction there. Another tirade followed. He then told me to leave. I saluted and left post-haste. It was most unfortunate for India that Krishna Menon was appointed defence minister. His left-wing political leanings were well known; he was ambitious, and attempted to politiclize the armed forces, placing his personal appointees in key positions. The military disasters of 1962 are almost entirely due to his pro-leftist assessments that China would never attack India. He was a champion of Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai' (Indians and Chinese are brothers). His lack of any military expertise pushed us into a conflict for which, given his negligence, we were not equipped to fight. History has been too kind to him, and he was, in my view, by far the guiltiest individual for the 1962 debacle!
I was sorry to leave Delhi cantonment where I had been allotted a large bungalow with a rambling garden. I was considering getting married to a very lovely girl from Gujarat. She was in the National Cadet Corps (NCC) and a college professor. We dated for some three months. She then arranged for me to meet her father, and he approved of the marriage. Then came the bombshell! She told me that she was the only bread-winner in her family and that we would have to support her mother, father, and three school-going sisters! I explained that my meagre army pay would be insufficient for this. She cried but I stood my ground. I was extremely sorry that I had to end the affair. Many are the times I think of her.
My move to the US as well as some other circumstances brought the affair to an abrupt end, and I left for the US distraught. Passing through Bombay at the embarkation headquarters I ran into Gen. Kaul who now held a key appointment in army headquarters. He was surprised to see me, indicating that he was unaware of my assignment. I told him that if he so wished he could have my assignment cancelled as I was not all keen to go on another course of instruction. He did not answer, grunted, and strode away.