5

Training in the US and Back

I fitted in very well in the US as I had previous contacts with the army there during the second World War. The course commenced in September 1959. I bought a used 1955 Ford for $400 and drove from Fort sill to Fort Bliss, Texas near El Paso for the air defence leg of the course. The school at Fort Bliss was commanded by Brig. Gen. Mellnick who had earlier been a prisoner of war of the Japanese. I had earlier thought that the Americans were not very protocol conscious and was therefore taken aback to witness the entry of the one star general to the officers' club. His ADC preceded him carrying a pennant with one star, and this was placed on the dinner table. Then the brigadier general accompanied by his wife sat down.

The air defence missile systems were new to me and I had to work hard to keep pace with the rest. The adjacent well laid out town of EI Paso was a lively place. We often used to cross the bridge over the Rio Grande to Juarez, Mexico, which features in one of Graham Greene's short stories. After completing the course, I drove back to Fort Sill and was allotted a small room in a temporary barrack. This was not too much of a problem. I did not mind showering with others as I was used to this from my school days, though I found it difficult to stomach squatting in the company of others to relieve myself. I asked for a quarter with a more private toilet facility, a request that was not acceded to. Officers from Asian countries were housed in these quarters, while those from the US and NATO countries were provided with proper accommodation. Furthermore, as I was an officer of the rank of Lt Col, I resented receiving notes to go and tidy my room. I rented a small house in Lawton and moved out of the post. This was not well received by the commandant. The officers attending the course, some 400 in number, captains and majors, were from the regular army, US Marine Corps, and ROTC (Reserve Officers Training Corps) with me as the solitary Lt Colonel attending the course. I had seen combat in Burma and Sumatra, had qualified in the gunnery staff course in the UK, taught at the school of Artillery in India, and graduated from our Defence Services Staff college. Some of the instructors with limited credentials were uneasy at my presence. I found the marine corps officers a cut or two above the rest. I got on well with the South Koreans, Philippinos, and Vietnamese on the course. The American officers did not treat their Vietnamese colleagues with much respect. When I asked them why, I was shocked by the reply, 'Why should we treat them any better; they were our house-boys in Vietnam'. I had lived under British imperialism in India and had served in the British Indian Army but had never encountered such remarks before. This was the era when Little Rock had gained notoriety for the intermittent violence between blacks and whites, a major episode occurring in 1958. I did little to conceal my feelings. This did not go down well with the establishment. This was also the McCarthyist era. One of my colleagues on the course confided in me that he had been asked to report on his brother officers. He told me he had reported all my comments! On the whole I had an enjoyable tenure in the US and got on with most of my colleagues. I was most impressed by the vitality of the American people for whom I developed great respect.

I had brought with me the mounted head and skin of a leopard that I had earlier shot. The trophy was mounted in Mysore by Van Ingen and Van Ingen. Unfortunately one of the teeth had broken in transit. I took it down to a dentist in Lawton. Initially he feigned to be insulted at being asked to fix a leopard's tooth, but after a brief discussion he agreed to fix it at a price. I presented the trophy to the commandant, and it was mounted and displayed in Snow Hall. incidentally, the lady liaison officer for foreign officers asked me to give the trophy to her, and did not conceal her displeasure when I declined.

I had perforce to study hard on the course as weekly mark-sheets were displayed for all to see. My final percentage results were well into the nineties. There was much explaining to do on my return to India on one of the remarks on my course report: 'An aggressive officer.' This was meant to be a compliment but the military hierarchy in India took 'aggressive' to mean 'quarrelsome'. I had found that the Indian military hierarchy was more interested in compliant malleability rather than an aggressive outlook. Unfortunately, this attitude continues to obtain in the armed forces today: initiative on the part of junior officers is not appreciated by their seniors.

During my stay in the US, I attended a talk by Glubb Pasha who I had met earlier in Iraq. The lecture glorified his Arab legion and their role in the Second World War, and later against the Haganah in Palestine. I reminded him of our earlier meeting in Iraq and told him I did not approve of his anti-Semitic views. Glubb, like many other British Arabist officers, was a committed anti-Israeli Arabist.

After the course I drove down to Fort Bragg for a liaison visit. Brig. Gen. Stillwell, son of 'Vinegar' Joe Stillwell was in command. We had long discussions. I had met 'Vinegar'Joe in India at Ramgarh where there was a training establishment for the Chinese troops of Chiang Kai-shek's army. Sadly, Brig. Gen. Stillwell died later in an air mishap en route to Pearl Harbour. Lord Louis Mountbatten was visiting Fort Bragg at that time. At a banquet hosted in his honour, Mountbatten wore the uniform of an admiral of the fleet. He noticed me in my Indian army blue patrols and signalled me to sit beside him. He spoke of his love for India and his role as governor general and, later, viceroy. He discussed the Ramree operation in which I had participated and recounted that the original task given to 26 Indian Division was to retake the Andaman Islands. The Intelligence was given the task of simulating an attack on Ramree in the area of Mount Peter. The plan was later changed and the objective became the island of Ramree. The Intelligence was not informed of the change and continued to simulate a landing on Ramree Island. Fortunately the landing took place at Kyakpau and not Mount Peter. He also recalled the incident of the booing of Maj. Gen. Chambers, and his visit to Ramree to boost morale. He was amused when I told him that the soldiers of my regiment called him 'Lord Mountain Battery'.

I sold my car at Fort Bragg for $200 and spent a few enjoyable days in New York. I stayed in a hotel off Central Park, which charged $12 a day for the room. Returning to London on the Queen Mary, we embarked to return to India on an Anchor Lines vessel. In August 1960 I arrived back in India and was told to report to the Artillery School as chief instructor, tactics. I had barely settled down when orders came to report to HQ, Western Command to take up the key assignment of general staff officer, operations grade 1 or GSO1 (Ops) as it is generally called.

The army commander was Lt Gen. P.N. Thapar, an upright and cultured man, and the brigadier, General staff, was Brig. Dewan Prem Chand, a competent and personable officer. We got on extremely well. I took many decisions without reference to the army commander and was marched up several times. Prem stood by me. Major differences arose between the army commander and me regarding the defence of Ladakh, with particular reference to the so called 'forward policy'. I stressed that any forward deployment was contingent on building up the infrastructure and logistics. Krishna Menon and other politicians were pressing for a forward deployment policy. The matter was left unresolved. The army commander proposed some radical changes to the organization of artillery units. I wrote on the file that we should not consider such 'bastard' organizations. I was summoned. General Thapar then ordered me to delete what he described as abusive language. I declined and retorted that if he did not like my note he could reject it. It stayed on the file. Fortunately for me, in April 1961 I was asked for by Maj. Gen. Sam Manekshaw to go to the Staff College as an instructor. I had known Manekshaw earlier when he was director of military operations at Army Headquarters, and was a frequent visitor to his bungalow in King George's Avenue (now known as Rajaji Marg). Lt Col Jangoo Sataravala, who was awarded the Military Cross for gallantry in the Italian campaign, often came there. Sam Manekshaw initially liked Sataravala, but many years later fell out with him.

I reported to Manekshaw, and he briefed me on my duties and told me to take up residence at Wellington Club. The club is situated in a valley and had a nine-hole hill golf course. The old squash court had been converted into two residential quarters. I had the top floor, the secretary the bottom. The work-load on an instructor at the Staff College is heavy. Not only has he to study and prepare his lessons but also to correct numerous papers and exercises. There were excellent facilities for games and sports. Riding with the Ootacamund Hunt on the downs was enjoyable, as were the amateur horse races. I managed to get my golf handicap down to twelve. Manekshaw played no games nor rode to hounds. His only outdoor recreation was fishing.

I had to revise several of the exercises set for the course students. One particularly outdated one was on mountain warfare, which was probably the same one that had been used by the college in Quetta before it moved to Wellington, and was based on the techniques of picketing used in the North - West frontier during the 1920s and '30s. I rewrote and reset the exercise and chose the locale of Bombdi La, a place which was to figure prominently during the Chinese invasion of 1962. Manekshaw, unlike Lentaigne, did not take an active part in the tactical discussions. He did however introduce the lectures of VIPs. Being a bachelor, I was asked to dine with these VIPs in order to make up an even number at the table. Mrs Silloo Manekshaw was a charming lady, considerate and gracious. She kept a very good table, was kind to me, and I will always cherish her memory.

Manekshaw got into deep trouble at the college. He had the habit of speaking out of turn and making disparaging remarks about the heroes of Indian history. He did little to conceal his fondness for all things Western, and his antipathy towards the government's foreign and domestic policies. Reports of these criticisms began reaching Delhi and cognizance was taken of his indiscreet outbursts. A court of enquiry was ordered by the defence minister, Krishna Menon. Manekshaw was accused of being anti-national. The principal movers in the campaign against him were Krishna Menon and his protégé Lt Gen. Kaul. Kaul considered Manekshaw to be a potential rival and was busy gathering evidence against him to support the charges. One evening when I was having dinner at the residence of one of my colleagues, Lt Col Fateh Shinde, I received a phone call from a staff officer to Kaul asking me to give evidence against Manekshaw. The evidence they wanted was Manekshaw's intemperate remarks to me and Lt Col Zoru Bakshi. Bakshi had just left for an assignment to the Congo and was not available. I was informed that if I gave this evidence, I could have any assignment I desired and that my future career would be secure. The remarks in question were indiscreet, derogatory, and could be used to support the charges being levied. I declined. Kaul then came on the line and asked me to reconsider, telling me that if I did not comply my career would be in jeopardy! I politely refused as I found reporting on my boss unethical, and at the same time had little respect for Kaul. I was to later discover that Kaul had my position at the top of the seniority list moved down to the bottom!

Later, I earned the ire of Manekshaw over a British planter's complaint that I had had the audacity to evict him, an important member of the British community, from the club. Manekshaw demanded an explanation. I told him that the planter was drunk, abusive, and making a nuisance of himself. This did not satisfy him. I told him that I had earlier indicated to him that I did not wish to take on the assignment of honorary secretary, and that too in my spare time, and that if this planter misbehaved again I would have no hesitation in evicting him. I added that as he was unhappy with my conduct as honorary secretary I was resigning with immediate effect. Manekshaw was livid. He told me that I would have to continue until further orders. Fortunately for me a paid secretary was appointed shortly afterwards.

Manekshaw's habit of making loose comments was to continue. An astonishing document released by the US state Department (see Appendix) mentions his conversation with William K. Hitchcock, American Consul General, Calcutta, on 12 October 1966 on a flight from Calcutta to Delhi. Manekshaw was then Eastern Army Commander. He revealed his frank discussions with the defence minister, his views on Indo-Pak relations, Kashmir, Bhutan, the Chogyal of Sikkim, and his anti-soviet and pro-Western orientation. He said that he could not openly admit to being pro-Western because that would thwart his prospects of becoming army chief and consequently to redirect military thinking away from the Soviets. He criticized the army chief, Gen. Chaudhuri's, conduct of the 1965 war with Pakistan. Hitchcock was surprised when Manekshaw told him that the Indians allowed the Chinese through a few menancing rounds to pin down the 300,000 troops he had under his command, thus confirming to the Americans the strength of our Eastern Army. This report was circulated to all American embassies in the region. Manekshaw had been in combat for a brief spell in Burma during the withdrawal across the Sittang bridge, was wounded and awarded the Military Cross which he rightly deserved. Other than in 1942, Manekshaw saw no other combat. Manekshaw's flair for the dramatic is best reflected in the oft-told story that Maj. Gen. 'Punch' Cowan, the divisional commander, saw him lying wounded, and pinned his own Military Cross on him, saying that a dead person cannot be awarded such a medal! (Tribune, 13 January 2005). Medals were not worn in operations in a combat zone and therefore Gen. Cowan could not have been wearing any.

Manekshaw also regaled audiences with stories of his 'exchanges' with Mrs Indira Gandhi many years after she was assassinated. It was widely known that he used to defer to each and every wish of hers. He repeated stories about his exchanges with Mrs Gandhi, loving to build on his charismatic persona, a creation largely of a doting press. In 1997, I published my account of the 1971 war in my book Surrender at Dacca: Birth of a Nation. I gave copies to Manekshaw and J.S. Aurora in 1997 when they were both in good health and active. Neither of them countered or contradicted what I had written in the book. Manekshaw's only comment then to me was: 'Why did you put that horrible picture of me in the book?'

In all fairness, Mankeshaw established a good rapport with the bureaucracy and stood up to them when necessary. He did more than any other chief to maintain the dignity of the army. Despite our many differences, I have the highest regard for Manekshaw. He was kind and considerate to me as was his charming wife. Unfortunately, after the publication of my book Surrender at Dacca in 1997, our relationship became strained. Manekshaw had merely glanced through the book that I had given him. Extracts, out of context, were shown to him. These, he felt were incompatible with the aura his public relations media campaign had created that he, single-handed, controlled all operations from his office in South Block. After the war, while still in service, he gave an interview to a British newspaper asserting that if he had been the Pakistani army chief in 1971, Pakistan would have won the war! Mrs Gandhi was furious and despite consistent lobbying by Manekshaw and others to appoint him field marshal, agreed most reluctantly a few weeks before his retirement on a pension with no perks!

Gen. Thimayya on retirement had perforce to take on the role of secretary of the United Planters' Association of Southern India in Coonoor, as the government declined to give him a suitable appointment. Thimayya often dropped in for a drink at my quarters at the Club and I was often invited to his bungalow. He behaved with great dignity but was bitter about the shabby treatment meted out to him by the politicians. He discussed with me the operations of his brigade in Burma, as also his pivotal role in operations in Jammu & Kashmir, particularly the classic one at Zoji La. Later, Thimayya's capabilities were eventually recognized and he was given a prestigious command in the United Nations Peace Keeping Operations. He was indeed a 'man for all seasons'.

After the 1962 Chinese invasion, Manekshaw was promoted to the rank of Lt. General and appointed the corps commander of 4 Corps in Eastern Command. At a farewell party at the Wellington Gymkhana Club, I recall Silloo Manekshaw telling Sam to thank me for not giving evidence against him. Manekshaw did not respond and moved away. Manekshaw was extremely fortunate to escape so lightly from the anti-national charges filed against him.

From the Staff College I was posted as Colonel Q, Southern Command in Poona (or Pune as it is now called). Others who were earlier lower down in the promotion list were promoted to the rank of brigadier and went on to command brigades! This was obviously related to the Kaul incident! I handed my resignation papers to the army commander who refused to accept them, saying he would come back to me. Later he told me that he had spoken to the military secretary who told him that my promotion had been delayed due to my earlier request to be sent to an operational area, and as one would fall vacant soon I would be promoted soon. Regretfully I believed him then, but was much later to discover that this was a blatant lie, but by then it was too late.

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