THE OBSERVER-(M-24)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-24)😎

Sun 27 Sep 2020

DESERT STORM- PHATTECHAK     

          The sandmodel discussions got over and now it was time to put into practice all that had been preached.The Major Exercise was in the form of an offensive move deep into enemy territory. As part of this, the unit was tasked to lay tracks for the essential supplies columns to move on once the bridgehead had been established . Called "Trailblazing" in English,the troops  promptly and aptly translated it to  "Phattechak" in Punjabi. 

           Flexible-Duck-Board or FDB was the name of the main  equipment utilised for this purpose. 

Storing,loading/unloading, transporting,aligning and laying of these FDBs was Phattechak.All of a sudden, the vital statistics including weight of this otherwise obscure piece of equipment of World-War-II vintage assumed critical importance.

             The actual meaning and significance of the term truck 3 x ton(Tata Mercedes Benz or Shaktiman) and the seemingly minor and trivial detail like the weight of an FDB were driven home in no time.  A 3x ton could carry only 40 FDBs by weight even though it looked as if many more could be squeezed in .This simple fact was driven home the hard way,by hit and trial.Even loading,  unloading and storage of these FDBs was a specialised task which took some time for everyone to get familiar with.Vehicles available for the task were far less than ideally required for quick transportation.So each vehicle had to make many turn-around trips. Vehicles with 4×4 option and those fitted with sand-tyres were preferred but both were scarce.

         What looked so simple during discussions turned out to be a really complex task when it came to implementation on ground. Accurate recce and alignment of the track was the most crucial part of the proceedings, starting from the planning stage.More often than not, the picture as it appeared on the map was far different from ground realities. Some old settlements shown on the map turned out to have vanished and some new ones sprung up in the middle of nowhere.

        It was so easy to lose direction or get stuck in a patch of soft sand while navigating with the help of outdated maps, which at times showed an all-weather motorable track where none existed. A simple event like the passage of a camel-train or a herd of sheep could alter the entire scene in minutes, not to speak of sandstorms.In the absence of any major natural landmarks or sign-posting of any kind, it was very difficult to distinguish one cluster of huts or junction of tracks from another.It was no easy task for the 2IC of the unit whose role it was to align the track succesfully in unknown territory and end up at the correct spot leading to the bridgehead.All the more so when everything had to be done under cover of darkness.

            Having freshly arrived from a mountaineous terrain to the plains,the unit had yet to get fully geared up for the situation. This was the hard truth at all levels. A whole new set of terms were in use and new ideas were being tried out, demanding out-of-the-box thinking and innovation.One good thing about this large-scale exercise was that it brought into sharp focus the importance, relevance and inter-dependence of each arm and service as also the need for close co-ordination.

      While most of the unit was fully involved solely with the main task of laying tracks, Second- in- Command of the unit was given the additional charge of setting up and operating the Obstacle Crossing Control Organisation with me as his assistant.The exercise was expected to be a prolonged one with the unit spread out over a large distance.So everyone was expected  to survive on packed rations for the duration.Just before the start, we were joined by a group of officers who were attached to the unit for administrative purposes and were to act as umpires for the exercise. They were not a very welcome lot and rather looked upon as a logistical burden and with an eye of suspicion.Conversation would automatically become guarded in their presence.The poor chaps tried hard but without much success to convince all that they were just doing their duty and meant no harm.

By the end of the exercise, the unit had layed 103 Km of track. As for the Obstacle Crossing Control Organisation, it was successfully established in time.An area was neatly marked out with pickets and mine-tape, with lanes for entry, parking and exit.The 2IC was parked at the exit and me at the entrance, with the area in-between divided into lanes, to serve as the Waiting Area.With us was a time-table according to which vehicles were to be allowed in and out systematically in a strictly controlled manner. All i can say is that for some time things ran according to plan..After that, columns started arriving out of schedule but had to be allowed in. Soon, they had to be allowed out also regardless of the schedule  as there was a shortage of parking space.A little later, it became a free for all. The radio and line communication went for a six and our unit guides helped by  Military Police personnel stopped even pretending to be in control of matters.

         To make it worse, there was a sandstorm in the night. It became impossible to stand in the open. Nothing was visible and everyone took cover under whatever shelter was available. Sand was flying all over in swirls and all one could do was duck under cover and shut all apertures as best as possible. Even after that, there was sand in the hair, eyes, nostrils, mouth….. you name it.

           After a chaotic night, the dawn revealed a picture of what had taken place through the night. Scattered here and there were the odd  vehicles that had broken down or were stuck in soft sand while the majority of the column had crossed over. All types of communication had broken down and everyone was waiting for news of conclusion of the exercise.Cleaning out the sand and freshening up as best as i could, i walked across to the senior officer's 1x ton.He was up and about, trying to get his radio set crackling but to no effect. We realised there was not much we could do but remain still and await orders. We discovered that  the can of fish in my possession was all we had by way of rations and decided to have it for breakfast.He asked his sahayak to open it and serve it with tea. Right then, a Jonga with a white flag turned up with two officers on Umpire duty.They were very hungry and said as much. While i dutifully kept mum, my senior colleague coolly said that we were hungry too but there was nothing around. The smell from the freshly opened can of fish wafted from close by and the poor chaps sniffed the air pointedly but … nothing doing. After they left reluctantly, my unasked question was answered with the logic that what was there was not enough for four. Moreover, it was their own fault that they had not stocked up even after being forewarned.

There was the customary debriefing and summing-up in the end and the unit landed up on the outskirts of Bikaner. The first exposure to this fabled town was the Rajbhog served after lunch. Truly a food fit for kings, as imdicated by the name. Then came the Bikaneri bhujia for snacks in the evening. Some trg films were watched on TV screens in the town. Beautiful havelis with exotic glass and mirror work and paintings were a treat for the eyes. So was the lac jewellery which i  came to know about for the first time. There was also a visit to a temple dedicated to mice and some archeological sites at Pilibangan. Throughout the travels on the desert tracks, the only sign of women was around village wells, heavily veiled and always in groups. Now and then, one would get a glimpse of the most beautiful eyes peeping from small windows, or maybe it was  just my imagination playing tricks. Amazing what all a few days of isolated existence in a desert can do. There were also these gifted musicians who would turn up with their stringed violin-like instruments at langars and entertain us with folk songs.Strains of …...Kesariya balam, padharo mharo desh……. still ring in my ears after all those years.As for the lady in the picture --- i kept looking for her throughout my travels in the sand dunes, but every time i thought i had finally found her, she kept vanishing in a sandstorm !

          Maybe she will be found after the unit reaches Chandigarh, the city beautiful !

THE DAILY OBSERVER-52

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-52😎

Tue 22 Sep 2020

        THE GROUP ICON

            Sunday 20 Sep probably saw the maximum number of members marking their attendance on this site, with even Stuart Lawrence putting in an appearance. Saturday's sad event certainly seems to have shaken us all up like nothing else. The site witnessed an outpouring of feelings like never before with many of the usually silent or brief types writing paragraphs-full to express their feelings in great detail. The group s certainly evolving over time, and how !

         As Vidur pointed out early on Sun, life is like that - the rough and thè smooth follow each other, nothing is permanent. Messages of condolences for SK Sharma alternated with birthday greeting posts for Sirohi. Umesh Oberoi changed the group's icon and ordered an embargo on the usual lighthearted flippant posts. This "order "  was followed by all. Suresh Katoch came up with a touching eulogy to his college-mate and close friend, SK. And yes, SK was fondly known as "Tedha" and not " Bhoond" , the latter term was used for Katoch.

TDO stands corrected.

          Now coming to the matter at hand. First, it was Andrews whose finger changed the name of the group to " Ian Kerr ". Some confusion prevailed before things were set right by Alfie and further corrected by someone else.Not one to be left behind, Umesh changed the group's icon to suit the latest event. Last night Alfie changed the group's icon to the photo of an American General. Vijay Chougle suggested a change. Meanwhile, i suggested Gen Nathu Singh's photo and Alfie implemented the change with great difficulty ( the time then being well past 8 PM and Alfred being that much ahead on  his liquid intake ) .

         And this morning, it is noticed that the group icon is now changed to a bird's-eye-view of OTA by Vijay. Vijay's daughter is the one who has clicked this masterpiece from the air.  Bro Gurvi got so excited on spotting this early in the morning that he accidentally left the group.

See what an icon can do ? When one is unable to make out what it is, one tries to zoom the image for a better view. And when one tries such tricks, there us always the danger of finger-mischief !

      Make no mistake - a group  icon is a very important symbol - most of us take a look at it first thing in the morning and last thing at night. So it has to be something which evokes pleasant thoughts, not one which evokes nightmares or negative vibes.

        The present icon, at first sight apoears hazy and one is tempted to take a closer look by zooming. .And here is where danger lurks, as discovered by Gurvi. One gets drawn into the photo, spotting the White House,having all kinds of memories rushing in. Before one knows it - the finger has done the trick and one finds oneself out of the group by " galti se mishtek."

Sure,Uncle Alfie is always there 24 x 7 x 365 to add you back, but is such a state of affairs desirable?

i mean GCs accidentally leaving the group on a regular basis.Also, with so many Gp Admins, is it advisable to frequently fiddle with the group icon and description?

            As for myself, my eyesight is no longer what it once used to be. Seeing something new where the icon used to be, i zoomed in and what a sight it was ! Reviving all kinds of memories,not just of 1981-'82 but 1995- 2014 too.During the latter period, i resided and worked at Chennai Airport. Each time i flew in and out ( which was very frequent ) i used to make sure i got a window seat just to be able to see this view during take-off/ landing. I would try and make out the various landmarks - White House, swimming pool, Kot, Drill Square, OT Area, magazine, P Hill,St Thomas Mount, Adyar river and so forth. And all kinds of memories keep streaming in.

     So as long as the errant naughty finger is kept in check, tbis panaromic view of OTA is fine by me. Would very much like to know how others feel about it.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-51

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-51😎

Sun 20 Sep 2020

     OBITUARY

🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉

COL SURINDER KUMAR SHARMA IS NO MORE

LONG LIVE COL SURINDER KUMAR SHARMA

         The shocking news of the departure of Col SK Sharma last evening came about ten days after US Gill first gave the information about his admission in ICU, Fortis Hospital, Mohali. Said to be in a serious condition after a bout of typhoid,he had been on ventilator since then while various tests were carried out. During this period US Gill, Ian Kerr, Manjeet Sidhu,VK Duggal, Bhupi Batth,Arvind, Navnit and Mohinder were amongst those who visited the hospital, spoke to the family and kept us all informed about the developments on a regular basis.Volunteers were also on hand to donate blood if required.There seemed to be a little improvement in the vital parameters towards the end but after the biopsy results were received from Mumbai with " cancer of the blood vessels " as the diagnosis, came the news that he had breathed his last at 1630 hrs yesterday.Mortal remains have been taken to his native village in Himachal Pradesh for final rites, to be carried out some time in the morning today.

         What a journey it has been for Surinder,fondly called " bhoond" (beetle) ; from B.Com. in Govt College, Dharamsala to an interrupted CA in Delhi to join  OTA,Chennai and  then a distinguished career in the Army.

            GC Surinder was a genial, tough cadet in Naushera-8 with a keen sense of humour.In our second term, he moved to Meiktila Coy. He was fond of mimicking instructors and fellow GCs alike, one of his more popular acts being his rendering of the AEC officer's dialogue in Military History - " the morale is not just in the boots,it has gone  down to the grass roots. " He could always be counted upon to liven up the atmosphere with light quips from time to time. He was the life and soul at get-togethers with his keen ready wit and repertoire of stories. 

         Recollecting an incident from GC days, PK Sen ( his room-mate) asked SK one day - " Kol ka programme kya hai?" Today, i am quite sure that SK purposely pretended to misunderstand the Bong-accented question and replied - " Mujhe kya pata Kaul ke programme ke baare mein." PK Sen was late for the event as a result and claimed ignorance. When asked about this, SK maintained that he had mistaken Sen's query about "Kol " ka programme. He lightened many a grim moment with his imitation of different regional accents and typical mannerisms.

         I had the pleasure of enjoying his hospitality on many occasions in Raj Rif Centre soon after passing out. After that i met him during my last regular Army tenure in Jalandhar in the early nineties. He was doing very well in his unit in addition to being an efficient Secretary of the Jalandhar Club. I can never forget an excellent family evening at his place when his two kids (both serving Army officers today) along with my daughter had eyes glued on their newly-acquired colour TV, while we spoke of old times.

         The last time i met him was in 2013 when he was posted on re-employment in Stn HQ Shimla. He and Mrs. Sharma hosted an excellent dinner for the two of us in the Gaitey Theatre and we had a wonderful time together . By the way this involved a good uphill 5km walk for him. It was so nice to see him moving around majestically in his by then trade-mark hat and swagger stick. On being asked about the new swagger-stick addition, he said it was meant only for scaring away the monkeys.He went out of his way to help me to procure Black Dog for my school get-together. He came along with me to the canteen and it was great to see what a popular and respected figure he was . We spoke to each other on phone a few times after that when he had moved to Yol Camp. Of late, he had become reticent . Earlier he was active on fb but i do not recall him posting anything in this WA group of ours.

         Not easy to find guys like him, SK will be sorely missed by everyone. A big SALUTE for an innings well played and in style.

So long,buddy ! Bon voyaģe !

🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉

THE OBSERVER-(M-23)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-23)😎

Thurs 17 Sep 2020

            A nomadic existence in the desert. Here today, gone tomorrow.  Alternately moving and plonking as directed by the highers up, i slowly got used to the concept of being a small cog in the giant wheel that was the unit.The 1 x ton became my home away from home and i could not help getting rather attached to it. Many a time, we would reach the halting place late in the night after hours of travel and drop off to sleep the minute the camouflage net was up. By the time one started getting familiar with a particular location, it would be time to start moving again.

        After a beer and an extra- heavy lunch in the Mess on one such day, i was looking forward to a good afternoon siesta. I was dismayed to find that my oasis, the 1 x ton was missing from where i had last left it.Only the camouflage net was there, propped up by sticks. Under it was my bedding neatly rolled up with most of my meagre belongings packed in the trunk. What could not be fitted inside the trunk was displayed on top.The sahayak informed me that due to breakdown of the regular vehicle used for the purpose , "my" 1x ton  had gone to deliver lunch to the working party of the Company at a distant location.

         Of all possible things that could happen at that moment, the sudden realisation that a fondly anticipated siesta had been rendered impossible was probably the one most likely to upset the equilibrium of the 2/Lt's mind. And seeing that the only alternative was to spend the afternoon slouching on a camp-chair with the hot summer sun blazing through the gaps in the camouflage net, this mental agitation rose to a crescendo. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, it is said.My fury was close to, if not greater than that. To make matters worse,no one else seemed to be around at close quarters, all having tactfully vanished after giving me the news. My inner simmering matched the outside heat and i fumed.My feelings touched new heights when the 1 x ton came back late in the night, the rear cabin stained liberally with spilt dal.

          Having  already fortified myself in the Mess with a generous dose of rum and a good dinner under the belt, i decided it was time to take firm control of the situation. For a long time, i had been getting the feeling that the Coy Sub had been acting too big for his boots. He reported directly to the Coy Cdr on all matters and i was just a mute spectator to all that went on.No one seemed to be interested in the pearls of wisdom that were itching to flow from my lips all the time.The only ones who listened to me were the jawans during rum issue in the langar.This was the right time to make my presence felt, i thought to myself - now or never !

        Summoning Sub KS, i let loose my first ever sermon in the unit,from the elevated platform above the raised 1 x ton tailboard that served as my stage/ pulpit. There was no mincing of words whatsoever. Leaving no room for anythiñg to be said in- between, i poured out all the pent-up feelings of Mr.Nobody into that solo performance. 

        Sub KS reeled under this unexpected onslaught from a hitherto dumb 2/Lt and tried to get in a word edgewise, but i was uninterruptible. I was hearing my own voice after a long time and it sounded good to me, so i put all my energy into the act.Warming up further, i remarked that it was indeed a sad state of affairs when an officer of the Coy could not go for a simple necessity like lunch without the fear of coming back and finding his residence uprooted and belongings strewn all over. i meant my words to sting and i could see they had done just that.Rounding the sermon off with some terse remarks on what the world had come down to, i went to sleep with the contented feeling that i had now indeed arrived and made my presence felt in the unit.

           First thing the very next morning, Maj R hauled me over the coals and told me in no uncertain terms that nothing in the Coy, leave aside a 1 x ton, was anyone's personal property. If i had minced no words in my harangue the previous night, Maj R. touched new heights of oratory in his detailed dressing- down which freely elaborated on the Coy's larger interests taking priority over any individual's concern for his own comfort. Coming as it did, early in the morning and delivered without the aid of any spirits, this lesson went right home and stuck there for life.And the ultimate blow came when i was ordered to deliver lunch to the same working party that afternoon,check their welfare and report back.

     That evening in the Mess, it was a pensive 2/Lt nursing his glass of rum and licking the wounds from the morning's verbal lashing. The whole day had been spent by me delivering not just lunch, but tea and dinner too. i had reached the Mess late and tensely awaited the Coy Cdr's arrival to submit my report.  But wonder of wonders, the Coy Cdr asked me to perk up with another tot and start preparing for the upcoming BIG EXERCISE. All had been forgiven in the space of a day, no hard feelings carried over.

THE OBSERVER-(M-22)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-22)😎

Sat 12 Sep 2020

        MY NAME IS NOBODY

       Mouth shut, eyes and ears open,be seen,not heard were the golden rules laid down for the Young Officer.These I followed  gladly, even to a fault; except during drinking, eating and smoking.My second day in the unit began early. Waking up after a good night's sleep in the 1 x ton, i stepped out into the cool and refreshing desert air.The others were already up and about.  Gratefully sipping a steel  glass of  luke-warm tea offered by Pathak & puffing a cigarette, i peered through the gaps in the camouflage net at the hazy world around me. What next, i wondered,as I freshened up and headed towards the Mess at a quick pace.

A pall of smoke from the fires of various cook-houses burning firewood and coal hung lightly over the air with its typical smell.The sun was slowly rising over the horizon. The route to the Mess and back over the sand-dunes interspersed

with random thorny bushes had looked so simple and direct the previous day. Now it  seemed to have transformed into a complex maze.The tracks had been neatly watered down & tamped. The bushes were dressed-up with white mine-tape around them. Neat little metal markers pointed out the way to different locations. It took quite some time for me to realise that i had been actually walking around in circles and ending up at the same point repeatedly. Asking anyone for proper directions was a no-no for my own izzat's sake. My worst fears came true when a jawan who had noticed my meandering  offered his services to guide me to the Mess. This offer was accepted gladly with a sense of relief. Outwardly, i pretended to refuse. Apparently, movement around the unit during the previous day and the efforts at sprucing-up were the causes for the transformation of the landscape. As to why all the sign-posting had resulted in complicating matters rather than the other way round remains a mystery to this day !

       The first one to hit the Mess, i gulped down breakfast in a jiffy & parked myself at the Company office, waiting for Maj R,my esteemed Company Commander. A tent with a steel folding  table and steel armchair served as the Coy office. Another chair had been placed for me.The folding table was covered neatly with green blazer-cloth displaying the embroidered Coy insignia in front. The top was covered with glass weighed down by the customary pen-stand, paperweights and wooden in/out /pending tray. Sub KS, the Coy JCO,received Maj R. on his return from the Mess and submitted the morning report. After dishing out the orders for the day,Maj R briefed me about my duties over tea and  cigarettes. He informed me that i would henceforth be the Platoon Commander of No. 6 Platoon as well as the Officiating Coy Cdr. in

his absence.That done,I was ordered to immediately go to the Platoon location and get to know each and every person, details of his family and problems if any. Reading between the lines,i could see that he was not too keen for me to be watching the rest of his activities of the day with my super-keen YO eyes.Well,one knows how to take a " subtle" hint that one's presence is no longer required or desirable. A swift, expeditious and dignified exit 

followed.

I saluted and sped to the unit lines with the Coy Sub who took me first to the Mandir,Masjid & Gurudwara for blessings. By the time prayers had been said and formalities completed in each of these, it was tea-break, ideal for visiting the Coy langar. I enjoyed the proffered tea and snacks and lingered on. The Coy JCO excused himself and vanished. I kept chit - chatting with the guys, trying hard to remember names & details so that i could later jot it all down in the new note-book i had specifically opened for that purpose.

       Come lunch time,i made my way to the Mess. Unlike earlier, there was no beer before lunch, the atmosphere being businesslike.The list of Syndicate leaders and members was announced and Syndicate meetings were held after lunch. These were called brainstorming sessions but what i perceived was less of brain and more of storming. The unit had only recently moved to its then present location from the mountains. Many of the officers were newly posted. So this desert-warfare exercise was a new ball-game for all in which anyone could be equally right or wrong. At least that is how it looked to me. It was not at all difficult to remain a silent spectator to all the goings-on, merging with the background by pretending to be part of the furniture. Once again, one could not help regretting one's

own lackadaisical attitude during  the YO's Course training.

          But soon,the eyes and ears caught the familiar Lal Desh, Neel Desh narrative in a new setting. The OTA training came to mind and this gave a comforting feeling. Maps and sand-models oriented,  one began to get a glimmer of the larger picture that was being played out. Slowly, it began to sink in that  these goings-on were at a scale i had never dared even to imagine. Till that point,my musings on such topics had been confined  up to a level that was only one step above my direct  sphere of operation or influence. But here i was, an Engineer Platoon Commander in a Company which was part of a Regiment making up an Engineer Brigade,in the midst of discussions about the Brigade taking part in a major Formation - level exercise. Simply put -- Mind-boggling !

          The mock battle scenario was a swiftly changing fluid one. The CO returned from higher-level meetings and passed on news of the latest situation to the unit from time to time. This went on for some days after which things seemed to 

stabilise somewhat. Impending Engineer tasks were visualised along with resources that would be required in terms of stores and manpower . All officers were occupied in one way or the other with these planning  activities.

        Meanwhile, the rest of the unit ( rank and file) was kept occupied with repairing camouflage-nets and other routine maintenance tasks. This gave me an excellent chance  of interacting with the troops and getting to know them better. The tea-breaks and rum-issue days were best for this kind of work. Maj R had told me that he would be quizzing  me about such details at any time and i did not want to be caught napping on that count. After some initial hesitation, the guys opened up about their lives and problems. As for what was going on operationally they had no more idea than that the unit was "on scheme ". i rather liked their simple outlook, so practical. They accepted the fact that they were in for tough times ahead till the scheme lasted. The interlude before the next major activity was meant for relaxing and enjoying. As for the "scheme",they were sure that the Company Commander who was God personified, ably assisted by the Coy Sub, would see them through it all.The CO was a comparitively distant figure for them and the Commanders at higher levels even more so.

          Maj R held the reins tight over his Company and not a leaf could stir without his knowledge. The Adjutant was always on the lookout for adding to his own resources with the help of the Junior Adjutant who played the role of a talent scout for the regimental headquarters in addition to his regular duties. There were heated exchanges between the Adjutant and Coy Cdrs whenever it was felt that he was overstepping the sacred line. The temperature ( both internal & external) kept rising as the days went by and the unit kept moving from one location to another in preparation for the BIG EXERCISE.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-50

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-50😎

HAVE WE BECOME BLIND AND INSENSITIVE ?

Wed ,09 Sep 2020

Here is an extract of a message in an Army Group by Lt. Col Shokin Chauhan forwarded earlier by Alfred and last night by Arun  :

Dear Army family, 

I didn’t intend to write this but I thought I must. 

For those offended, please excuse me. 

1999 was a tough year for our army and even tougher for our unit.

I was blessed by the presence of the Medical Specialist, then Major Chakraborty (and yes he is the father of the now unfortunate Rhea). 

Maj Chakraborty helped the families of our boys, personally supervising their treatment and would ring me up weekly with a report about them.

I am eternally grateful to this officer for helping out our unit. 

A couple days ago, he rang me up and said, ....

Sir, isn’t there any one who will believe us?

 Our fraternity?

 Don’t we have some kind of support group for such cases?  

My daughter is innocent but she and my family are being destroyed by the media and false accusations.

Rhea was then  just eight years old and her brother Showik was an infant.

 I have personally known them and am absolutely certain that she is innocent and deserves  atleast our sympathy. 

Her only misfortune was to fall in love with who she did and to provide support to him till she humanly could. 

She is a daughter of our fraternity and has been brought up by the same values that we uphold. 

I thought that I would let you all know of her father’s contribution to the wellbeing of our unit. Warm regards.

                                 xxxxxxxxxxx

HAVE WE NOTHING TO SAY ON THIS ISSUE ?