😎THE OBSERVER-(M-39)😎
Sun 11 Apr 2021
COMMANDO- xyz -TAIYYAR
Chalo Belgaum was my slogan immediately after the patrolling along the Indo- Tibetan border adjoining Himachal -/- Uttarakhand got over. Though my CO had worded it somewhat differently ( Eff-off was how he had chosen to put it ), the Commando Course was one i had myself gone out of the way to get enrolled on . This was in the latter half of 1983. While Infantry officers went through this course as part of their YO's, it was not mandatory for those from other arms . The maximum age for this being twenty eight, it was a mix of guys who had themselves put the noose around their necks and those whose COs or higher formations had exercised that choice for them. There were some COs who actually had this rather peculiar way of showing their affection for the select ones who caught their eye.In addition to my longstanding and almost suicidal urge to test my physical and mental endurance to the extremes, the fact that Pune lay on the way to Belgaum held an added attraction for me. Just a reminder - only days earlier i had attempted to leave the patrol party i was part of prematurely and even tried to convince my Commanding Officer that the ideal thing for me to do would be to set out immediately for this course. Just so that i could spend a couple of days en-route on leave in Pune. Frankly speaking, on hindsight, today i am not too sure whether it was the lure of Pune en-route or the original longing which made me so eager to make it against all odds and reach Belgaum in time .
Due to the delay in completion of the patrolling and ensuing formalities , i happened to be the last one to join the Course . The solitary steel table and chair that passed off as the Reception Centre for this course at the Belgaum Railway Station had almost been wound up by the time i clocked in. But i was swiftly whisked away in a truck to the Infantry School and dumped there by an NCO. As luck would have it, Hari Krishna Murali was the only one left without a buddy at that point of time, so he became my "buddy- pair" as they called it. Now here was one belonging to the category of those who found themselves on this Course not entirely due to their own wishes .
Murali was a highly qualified technical guy from the Corps of Signals. An excellent platoon-mate from OTA days , the poor chap was much lighter in weight than me.This worked out mostly to my advantage.Ideally, buddies should be nearly of the same weight. During unarmed combat sessions and tests, i had to be extra careful and gentle ( without appearing to be doing so ) when it was my turn to throw him to the floor in the sand-pit meant for that purpose. And for him it was such an ordeal to throw me, that i had to kind of jump in anticipation of his throw, again without making it obvious.
In fact, our facial expressions and body language were always at their ferocious best on such occassions. The fact that Murali had been an accomplished Bharatanatyam dancer of repute in his college days undoubtedly helped ! We carried off this charade successfully to the end. He proved to be ideal company throughout the training, keeping the spirits up with his keen sense of humour and ready wit. Being from Signals,he also managed to quickly establish a rapport with a military Microwave station that we crossed many times during the day. Sometimes, he was even able to coax his brethren there to fix up a telephone call for me to Pune .
The day starts very early in this Course and before i knew what had happened, i found myself in dungarees with the hair "zeroed" and running along the dark streets of Belgaum with a rope in lieu of a belt around the waist. The run was interrupted by frequent halts during which we were told to drop down on all fours and do bend-stretches, sit-ups,push-ups and other such physical manouvres. All this under hawk- eyed instructors periodically dishing out good and bad observations to individual trainees according to their performance .We were informed that all such observations would count in the overall assessment of our performance at the end of the course.
Any illusions I had of topping the course and getting the coveted
" Commando Dagger" were dashed very soon as i settled down to the more practical aspect of somehow seeing to it that I emerged from it all in one piece. A year full of indulgence in drinking, smoking and eating to my heart's content post-OTA had taken its toll on the wannabe-be topper's physical fitness and that was beginning to show in these extreme conditions. It was all too obvious that there were many others vying for that spot who had come much better prepared.
I distinctly recall the feeling in the pit of the stomach when we first crossed the site of the " Devil's Leap" during the early-morning run.The imposing 60 feet tall steel towers with the thin ( what looked like six inches but was probably one foot wide ) walkway between them on which one had to perform the Confidence Walk on the Day of Reckoning seemed to be reaching out to the very heavens. Each time we crossed that spot, an involuntary chill ran down every present trainee spine at the very thought of even climbing up and standing erect at the top , leave aside the walking and leaping part. And sure enough,the guys in charge saw to it that this was something that happened all the time.Almost as if they derived a sort of sadistic pleasure seeing our concerned looks and sensing the shivering spines.We, on our part did our best to try and ignore the very existence of those dreaded towers by turning our heads deliberately in a nonchalant way in the opposite direction. Stiil, an involuntary stolen glance and shudder were unavoidable.Come to think of it,in reality we were too scared to voice our fears even to ourselves.
The first thing one heard on waking up in the dark hours was - " jaldi karo, jaldi karo, commando late ho gaya hai " and this was a constant refrain throughout the day as we went about our business.It carried on till we dropped dead on our beds at night. It came to a point where guys could be heard muttering furiously under their breath that it looked as if we had become late the minute we took birth on this planet - " lagta hai sala paida hote hi late ho gaye."
Then there was Rock climbing which involved being pulled by a rope round one's waist ( actually a safety-harness ) up a sheer cliff , to the top which seemed to be located nearer to the moon than anything else around.. This while pretending to be actually climbing up by another rope which hung down from the top. A bit of getting hauled up and a bit of climbing, if you get what i mean. Many a time, it turned out to be less of climbing and more of deftly avoiding getting strangulated by the " safety- harness" rope or bruised and battered by the hard jagged rock surface as we swung precariously from side to side. Everyone did finally manage to somehow crawl over the top in one piece, panting, and puffing ,cursing the guys who were doing the pulling of the rope for doing that task in such a ruthless and callous way. When it was one's own turn to haul at tge rooe, one realised that the haulers could see nothing of the condition of the "climber". They just followed instructions bellowed out by the guy in charge. Before the climber could heave a sigh of relief after crawling over the top of the ledge however, came the instructor's barked- out order to shout the customary ferocious, loud,hoarse, macho and piercing COMMANDO-O-O-O-O………..!
But many a time, what actually came out of the mouth was a weak and meek whimpering -
commandoo-uh-uh……..w-h-i-ne.
There were long route marches with heavy packs on the backs, mostly at night through leech- infested,damp, marshy forest terrain and flooded paddy fields. When we stopped periodically and held a head-count by tapping the next guy in line on the shoulder, it would be realised that about half of us had mysteriously gone missing . Actually, the tapping and counting went on from the rear to front all the time while walking. The halt and recount would take place when it was realised more than once that the number of marchers had magically reduced. On going back over the route and checking, it would be found that at some point of time, someone had fallen asleep while standing and waiting. All behind him had followed suit, while the line ahead marched on. Yes, guys could actually sleep off while standing in the rain with heavy packs on the shoulders and arms to boot ! I still cannot forget the pleasure derived on leaning forward from the waist, pushing the pack on the back higher up ,leaning on to the rifle for support and grabbing some sleep with the raincape pulled over the ears whenever the opportunity arose.
Exercises also involved the carriage of a Light Machine Gun group-wise in addition to individual personal weapons. Although this thing was called light, it was neither light nor handy to carry.No one really wanted to carry this unwieldy load with its pair of bipods which had a way of piercing the shoulders in a most uncomfortable way.The leader of the moment also had the duty of assigning the task of its carriage by turns, so that the burden was shared. This sounded good during planning , but when it came to execution, it was a different story.During each halt on the march, the guy doing his turn of carrying the LMG, could be seen repeatedly asking the Cdr of the day as to whose turn it was next. Then he would be seen walking up and down the line, searching for the fellow. And ever so often, that worthy supremo would carefully keep to the shadows, hiding his face till someone gave him away . Of course, there were also those who went out of their way to do much more than their fair share too. These testing times brought out both the best and the worst in people. There would even be the odd minor scuffle breaking out over some petty issue as a result of frayed nerves and exhaustion.
During survival training in the jungle, each one of us was required to cook his own food after managing to light his own small fire. It was no easy task getting a fire lit in that damp atmosphere by placing some twigs between stones. The immediate urge on halting for rest after marching would be to take off the heavy packs on the shoulders and fling oneself on the ground. Not all were ready to scrounge for twigs and start a fire. A little rest was more alluring.But once a fire got going, there would be a crowd of guys around it asking to be
" thoda-sa adjushted ", to slip in their own mess-tins ( aluminium cooking vessels cum lunch-boxes) on the edge. Soon, the guy who originally lit the fire would find his own tin edged out. . The polite, gentlemanly demeanour that was worn on faces in normal times would many a time get ripped off. The basic instincts became visible in their naked glory, shorn of all pretence and superficial courtesy. Hunger worked like magic - nobody saw anything amiss with the liberal splashes of mud in the kichri. Rice and dal cooked with a pinch of salt was a most welcome feast at that time.How to catch, kill, cook and eat a snake also formed part of this training.
The tough get going when the going gets tough, was the motto.
One of the last missions involved a long march in stormy weather, during which we lost our way. Well past midnight,in pounding rain, we managed to hack our way through the thick forest into a small clearing covered with about six inches of water. It was unanimously decided that there was no point venturing further at that time and a halt was called. Everyone lost no time in sinking to the ground and going into deep sleep in six inches of water, so tired and exhausted was the state.At daybreak, it was decided that the best option was to head steadily in one direction so that we could hit the main road eventually. During this process, we were suddenly attacked by a swarm of wild bees whose hive had been broken in the storm. We came to know this when the guys at the head of the line came running back,screaming at the top of their voices. The rest of us ducked into whatever cover was available. One guy was so badly stung that he had to be carried away on a stretcher and then admitted to hospital. These were not the garden variety of honey bees but jungle ones, huge fellows with poisonous stings. There was no other way but to wait out till the angry swarm decided to vent its anger elsewhere and disappeared.We finally managed to hit the main road and were transported back to base by buses.When we reached there, we found breakfast, lunch and tea laid out all together. And we ate all in one go too. It was such a pleasure to sight a dry and clean and warm bed after that ! It still is.
This narrativr would be incomplete without a special mention of the leeches of Belgaum. These creatures were all over the place and had a knack of latching on to parts of the body and having a royal feast before they were noticed when they swelled up. One soon learnt to avoid certain typical spots and checking carefully before sitting anywhere. Still, they would latch on by dropping onto one from an overhanging branch unnoticed. They seemed to be omnipresent in good numbers and very well- informed about the resting- spots. The first thing to do on halting was to check for leeches on the body and ease them out by pouring salt on them instead of trying to force them off the body. THAT, we learnt soon enough was a much more messy and even painful option. Getting angry with them was a waste of energy.
Crowning glory of the Course was the Devil's Leap. On the assigned day, everyone assembled at the site of the two steel towers standing in the middle of a swimming pool. The first one to be called out climbed up the first tower and stood erect on top while the next one reached the bottom of the tower On the word go, the first guy started his Confidence Walk on the narrow metal platform leading to the second tower, while the second guy started on his way to the top.On reaching the middle, the first guy climbed up the three steps there, did a right turn and spoke out his name. Then he did a left turn and proceeded to the second tower by descending three steps. Once there, he crawled on hands and knees under a rope to the centre-point, straightened his legs and shouted -
"Commando XYZ Taiyyar".
At the sound of a shot being fired, he let go of the rope and dropped into the pool below.. Meanwhile the next guy would already be atop the first tower while the one after him would reach the bottom. This chain went on smoothly for the most part, except when there was some hesitation shown by some odd one in-between the process. That would set off a chain of nervous reactions down the line.
When my turn came, i remember it suddenly became very windy and the tower was swaying. Or was this just in my imagination ? The one ahead of me was shaking on the top for some time before beginning his walk. After a vrry shaky walk, he flatly refused to get onto the rope in spite of all efforts to goad him on . Finally, an instructor was sent up the tower to persuade him, but it ended in the two playing catch me if you can around the tower.In the end, he climbed down without jumping.
Not the best thing to happen just before your own turn ! Anyway, i managed to complete the routine without much ado. Letting go of the rope and dropping into the pool, i
kind of sighed in relief as i first almost hit the bottom of the pool and then automatically shot up. Coming to the surface, swimming to the side was not all that tough. But imagine my state of mind when i saw and felt the Ustad prodding me with a pole and pushing me back into the pool. My swimming prowess then was limited to holding my breath and thrashing my arms and legs wildly till i reached terra firma on the other side of whatever was to be crossed. I almost cursed out aloud before i saw that he was gesturing at something. My cigarette packet had jumped out of my pockets and was floating there. Grabbing it, i quickly joined the group who had completed the test.
The atmosphere here was perceptibly and markedly different from the one on the other side, where the guys were waiting for the test. Something like the difference in the facial expressions of a group waiting for their Covid vaccine as against those who have already had their shot. Or like the difference in facial expressions of those waiting in the queu at a Dentist's before and after the session with him. The same guys ( that includes yours truly ) who had been nervously chewing their nails out while watching glitches occur from the other side, now gave very condescending looks at those scared rookies who had yet to be tested. YES SIR, we had done it now and had become real Commandos.
Finally there was an exercise Escape in which we had to make our way back to base from the jungle after being let off in pairs . Here is where my buddy Murali's technical knowhow came in really handy. We had reached the spot along with the Directing Staff in a 3xton truck. Murali told me that underneath that very 3xton, in the suspension,was located an I-section on which the two of us could safely lie down and hide. That way, we could hitch a somewhat comfy ride back to base instead of trudging back the hard way. I had never till then cared to check out what lay on the underside of a 3xton, so i had to take his words for granted. We lingered around in the shadows when we were let off by the instructors and waited till the last pair was despatched. Before they completed their paperwork and boarded the 3xton,we quietly eased ourselves on to the I-section and lay down. Soon we were on our way back to the base. At every check-point en-route, we held our breaths while the vehicle was checked all over with torches. On reaching base, when we declared our presence, there was initially utter disbelief . It took some time and explanation to prove that we had actually broken no rules in the method we had adopted to make it back to base in record time.Then we were asked to give a demonstration to all of the way in which we managed to do it.
And so ended the commando course !
COMMANDO TAIYYAR !
A really heady feeling. It actually felt as if there was absolutely nothing that one could not achieve
( if achieve is the word i am looking for) after going through all that.
This feeling lasted in its entirety for quite some time, till fate inevitably came up with its next rap on the knucles . A part of it still lingers !
Enjoy your Sunday now, you have just been through an attempted description of one of the most gruelling courses in the world . Anything shorter would have failed to do justice, so pardon the length please.😁🙏
