#dinajpur train schedule | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bu1410 · 9 months ago

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Good morning TUMBLR - March 12th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

DINAJPUR – PANCHAGAR ROAD REHABILITATION PROJECT - BANGLADESH 1992

At the beginning of January I was called by the San Donato Head Office office, where SNAMPROGETTI proposed my return to Saudi e Al Jubail petrochemical project. I didn't intend to return to that country so soon. Therefore I asked if there were any alternatives, but was told that at that moment it was ''Saudi or nothing''. I said thanks, it will be for another time.

Faced with the ''either Al Jubail or nothing'' I accepted the invitation for an interview first, and than for the assignment by BONATTI Parma. They had a project in Bangladesh to propose for me. To tell the truth, it was an unusual project for BONATTI. The rehabilitation of a road, specifically the 84 km that linked Dinajpour to Panchagar, in the North of the country. The work was part of an aid package that the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs intended to implement in Bangladesh through the Italian Cooperation Fund.

Before my departure to Bangladesh, Mr. Romitelli (Deus ex Machina of BONATTI) told me:

''You have to come to Parma for a couple of days to familiarize yourself with the ROADCALC software, the tool with which the project's accounting will be done''.

''Ok fine – I replied – I'll be there. In fact I went to the BONATTI Parma headquarters, I met with their IT Manager who took me to his office, throw a package with 5 CDs on the desk, and told me:

That's it, take them and .............now you can go!

Thanks a lot Sir - I answered -and goodbye!! And this was the ''training course'' BONATTI gave me in order ''familiarize myself with the calculation program''.

JOURNEY TO BANGLADESH I left Italy in early October, and it was still hot when in Rome Fiumicino we were taken by airport shuttle bus under the DC10 of BIMAN, the national airline of Bangladesh. The flight schedule included a stopover in Dubai, and than would arrive in Dakha after another 5 hours. I noticed some alpinists boarding the plane with us: judging by their clothes and boots they were wearing, their final destination was undoubtedly the Himalayas. Nevertheless, I thought, why wearing such heavy clothes in warm Rome's autumn?

Again: why had they brought crampons, ropes, ice axes and other climbing items into the cabin (perhaps to save on extra baggage?)

Anycase we had been sitting inside the plane for almost one hour, but still takeoff did not take place. Finally the Captain spoke on the loudspeaker and told us that the loading service was unable to introduce a pallet with some items into the hold. To entertain us while we waited, the cabin crew distributed a snack: a toast bread stuffed with one slice of cheese and a leaf of green salad! (And a glass of water.....). ''What a great start......'' I told myself'' - but the best was yet to come. After more than an hour, the loading operations were completed, and the pallet was left on the ground. Than the plane took off. Normal takeoff, aircraft at flight altitude. About an hour passed, and from the window I saw some snow-capped mountains: I wondered what chain it could have been, given that a normal route to the Middle East should not have flown over snow-capped mountains in that period. Another hour passed, and the Captain kindly informed us:

We like inform passengers that we have begun the descent to Frankfurt airport, fasten your seat belts…etc…etc.

But ......why Frankfurt? I ask the stewardess – weren't we supposed to go directly to Dubai?

Yes – she tells me – but then we were late and then it was decided to go to Frankfurt to pick up some passengers.

Ahh…ok….sure we're travelling on airplane? Not in a city bus?

She smiled and went away without replying........ With now the plane approaching the landing, Captain spoke again:

Hallo.......Here your Captain speaking - we were warned by Frankfurt airport control tower that the persistent fog does not allow landing at the moment, therefore we remain at altitude nearby awaiting for instructions. Another good half an hour passed like that, while we flew in circles over Germany. And than the ''Our Dear Captain' said:

''The Frankfurt control tower warns that no clear weather is expected in the next few hours, so it has been decided that we're continuing our flight to London Heathrow''. LONDON HEATROW!! If we continue like that.....next announcement could be ''we've turned left, we're going to New York!. Anycase after 45 minutes safely landed at Heathrow!. Some passengers boarded and than the stewardess announced the plane would take off for Dubai in a few moments. We reached Dubai and it was already the dawn of a new day, and we were told to desambark becasue of refuelling operation will take place. As usual, inside Dubai airport it felt like being at the North Pole: the temperature was 16 degrees, definitely too low for an airport lounge. Then, with another 5 hours flight, eventually we reached Dakha, our final destination: 27 hours had passed since we left Rome!! The customs and immigration formalities were pretty quick – I came out of customs and saw a guy hoisting my name up on a board: he was the driver sent by Company Branch. He took my luggage and we started walking inside the airport, when I saw a group of people who seemed to be accompanying a tall and big man – when we were close enough, I noticed his hair and thick gray beard, his tortoiseshell glasses. , the perfect cut dress: Gian Franco Ferre', one of the great names in Italian fashion! Someone later explained to me the reason for Ferre' visit to Bangladesh: in Dhaka there was a ''Free Zone'' where big foreign groups had invested large capital and where no taxes were paid locally, as long as local manpower were employed (Which naturally cost very little). In this Free Zone all the big names in Italian fashion were present: in addition to GF Ferre', there were Valentino, D&G, Versace and few others. An elderly and still attractive Italian Lady who I later got to know, was in charge to manage all the production laboratories.

DAKHA GUEST HOUSE It took us a couple of hours to get to the Guest House: Traffic in Dhaka is a nightmare not only for cars and buses, but because of thousands of scooters and bicycles. The company Guest House was the former Italian Embassy. Italian diplomatic corps had recently moved to an even larger and more luxurious villa. Gulshan, the embassy area of Dakha is of course the most luxurious within the city, with large villas surrounded by tropical gardens. When we arrived I was so tired that I got into the bed without having any breakfast at all. In reality I had lost track of time, and I wasn't sure whether it was morning or afternoon or whatever........ Any case, I slept until the following noon without interruption. I was woken up by the housekeeper, who told me that lunch was served. Once at the table I met my two new Italian colleagues: one of them was in charge of customs and personnel, the second was in charge of the logistics of the construction sites. They gave me some informations regarding the project, and we had an excellent lunch prepared by the Bengali chef. Company office was located on the villa ground floor. Three local employees were present, and greeted me at the time I entered. Educated Bengali people are very polite.

TRANSFER TO THAKURGAON

The next day I left for Dinajpur in a domestic flight: about an hour by plane with an unbearable stench caused by the grease that the locals spread on their hair to make it ''shiny''. Upon arrival, another driver was waiting to take me to Thakurgaon, 60 km away from Dinajpour airport. I thus had the opportunity to see the conditions of the road that was the subject of our project. Some sections were really in bad shape, with deep potholes and bumpy asphalt - more worrying were the conditions of numerous bridges we crossed the frequent rivers and swamps: there would have been work to do!

My driver was chewing ''paan'' (a preparation that combines betel leaf with areca nut, which turns the tongue and teeth red-brown - In Bangladesh, paan is chewed throughout the country from all classes and is an important element of the country's culture).

In the world majority of the countries people drive on the right lane. There are others where left lane driving is established. (UK and former colonies in general). And than there is Bangladesh where people drive in the middle of the road! When two vehicle from different direction meet, the challenge is always the same: to maintain the center of the road until the other one moves onto the road shoulder… We arrived in Thakurgaon, and I found out it was a fairly tidy little town. BONATTI had built a compound of brick houses which essentially consisted of a bedroom and a bathroom: much better than the usual prefabricated sheet metal containers! There was a canteen-kitchen building, and one for offices. A tennis court and basket ball playground was also provided. All in a well-kept garden of palm trees and tropical flowers. And of course a spacious workshop for the maintenance of construction equipment. The compound housed 12 Italian expatriates, plus a dozen Filipinos and locals who worked with us, or belongs to Works Management. It was lunch time, and so at the table I got to know my new colleagues, starting with the Construction Site Manager Mr. Coda, originally from Biella - Italy - a man with West Africa background. The cook was Bengali, but the food was Italian, albeit with some local influences. In the afternoon I went with the Site Manager for a tour of the areas where work in progress, and than to visit the area where an Italian technician was assembling a plant for the production of aggregates, gravel and sand.

A Virtgen was also expected from Italy, a machine capable of ''eating'' existing asphalt and recycling it. In short, the work was interesting, with a lot of activities to be carried out along the 80 km of the road - the equipment available seemed excellent, and the staff capable. Objectively there were enormous logistical problems: difficulties in supplying fuel and spare parts - practically non-existent telecommunications, but we need to consider we were in North of Bangladesh, not beside Abu Dhabi......

ITALIAN CATHOLIC MISSIONARY HOSPITAL

After the settling-in period, I was told by Site Manager to investigate on the possibilities of emergency response in the event of employee's accident-illness. We had learned that about 40 km from Thakurgaon there was a hospital run by Italian Catholic missionaries, lost in the immense rainforest. So one day I went there. It was not easy to find the hospital location, given the total absence of road signs. I was welcomed by Father Rodolfo Albanese, originally from the province of L'Aquila. A man in his '60, whose goodness of spirit and the vicissitudes passed in more than 30 years of Bangladesh could be read on his face. He introduced me to the nuns who collaborated in the community - in addition to the building used as a hospital and the church, the compound had a school, a building where trades such as carpentry and crafts in general were taught. There was of course a large vegetable garden, from which a great deal of sustenance was drawn for the community. Plus a poultry and rabbit farms. I met the three ''Sisters of the Immaculate Mary, all of them very elderly, unfortunately. I spoke with one of them, she was originally from Dalmine, a city of Bergamo province.

And tell me - Sister Angela asked - how is Italy doing? Do you have Coca Cola there? And actor Amedeo Nazzari, how is he?

Sorry Sister - I said - may I ask you when you been in Italy last time?

Well… you know… we sisters of the Immaculate Mary suppose to leave Italy for ever .....but Pope Montini, believing it was unfair, granted us a return ticket every three years of permanence here - I however – she added – whenever I receive the ticket I don't use it, and I always ask for a refund, so we can use the money obtained for good causes! Therefore I haven't returned to my country of origin since 1957........

Ohh well… this does you credit, Sister! Anyway yes, in Italy we have Coca Cola and Nazzari… well I think he is very old now!! (I didn't dare to tell her that he was dead......)

And how do you find yourself here, Sister?

Well here you see by yourself… life is very hard, we are in a Muslim country, but we are respected, the people are good to us. Of course there were more critical times, such as during the war of liberation from Pakistan - as good Christians we tried to help everyone, but the Pakistanis told us that we were helping terrorists, and the Bengalis that we were helping the enemy. It was very hard time for us!!! After a simple but good lunch, I said goodbye to Father Rodolfo and the Sisters, promising that we would do something for them, and that in case of need we would certainly turn to the hospital.

GRAVEL AND AGGREGATE. Bangladesh is such a poor country that it doesn't even have rocks. And without rocks one cannot produce gravel. So huge boulders of 4 or 5 cubic meters are imported from India which are than transformed into gravel by women equipped with a hammer and chisel. There was one such kind of ''crushing plant'' in Thakurgaon, and the women who worked there were paid 2 USD per day. Under the scorching tropical sun, there wasn't a single one who suffered from excess fat........

When they saw our gravel crushing plant, they did not hide their anxiety at being deprived of their job, and therefore a source of livelihood. We assured them that we intended to use the gravel only for the project, without selling it on the local market.

ANTI-MOSQUITO Bangladesh land is almost perpetually under water: floods are frequent, and stagnant water favors the proliferation of mosquitos. The local system to fight mosquitos involves the whole family, the oxen and the cows. The excrements of these animals are collected by children, and then mixed into a round pyramid shape with clay, straw and dry branches - stuck to the walls outside the houses, with a stick in the center of it - when the dough falls to the ground it means that it is ready for use. Some families make commercial use of it, in the sense that part of the production is put on sale on a roadside stall. During the night the anti-mosquito is set on fire, and it burns slowly, releasing an acrid and smelly smoke into the rooms - a smoke and a stench that mosquitoes cannot stand, leaving the occupants of the homes to sleep peacefully.

FOX BAT A afternoon the warehouse guy call us: a fox bat had just landed in in front of the warehouse, and it didn't seem capable of flying. We went to see, and we noticed that fox bat was a very large specimen, the wingspan must have been more than two metres. It had enormous black wings attached. Bat was wounded on the right wing, and blood was dripping onto the ground. I called the nurse, who brought everything needed to disinfect and treat the bat. It looked scared, and the nurse gave him a calming injection. Bat stayed with us for a week, every now and then I went to visit him; it ate an industrial quantity of mangoes and bananas. At the end of the week the bird made some flight attempts, and after a couple of turns over the warehouse it left and returned to the forest.

BUSH SURVEY Every now and then I accompanied the surveyor to carry out measurement activities. On a very hot afternoon, after the usual torrential rain, we were close to a half-collapsed bridge, one of those that we would have had to rebuild, and on which traffic was currently flowing in alternate directions. We entered the tall grass, the local surveyor with his assistant were ahead of me by about ten metres, when suddenly they came back running and shouting ''SNAKE .....SNAKEEEE.........''!! We all started running backwards along the path barely visible in the thick vegetation. When we arrived at a layby, we stopped, out of breath.

What did you see – I ask.

A big snake Sir, very big!

Ok – I told him – let's go back there

No Sir, it can be very dangerous, Sir!

Take the machete from the pick up and then let's go and see. We retraced our steps, advancing cautiously through the tall grass. The faces of the two Bengalis were ashen. As we approached the point where they had seen the snake, they slowed down more and more. Finally we saw what had scared the two boys to death: a skin of what an expert would later tell us was a Python reticulatus, the longest snake in the world, as well as being the longest of all reptiles. The Bengalis began to laugh, that nervous laugh you get when you have escaped danger. We recovered the skin, and took it into town to the local Wildlife Office.

LOCAL DRIVING LICENCE I had an appointment for the exam to obtain my local driving license. I was sitting in the office of Police Chief, a fat guy, who, using a long, thin bamboo stick, was pointing out signs with Bengali writing on the room wall.

What does this mean? - he said.

I don't know, Sir – I replied

And what does this mean?

I don't know, Sir.

He looked at me sideways – and what does this mean?

Again Sir, I don't know….

Let's make one last attempt: what does this say – the officer asked me, pointing to a doodle written in green.

I'm really sorry, Sir, I don't know......

But you - said the Officer - can you read the characters written in Bengali?

No Sir.

Then why didn't you tell me?

You didn't ask me, Sir. He collapses into his chair, behind the desk - then all in one breath, without looking at me, he said:

Give me 1,000 Taka (9 euros) -I put the bills on his table. -He stucked my photo on a beige booklet, he affixed a couple of stamps and then while giving me the driving license he said:

Be careful while driving – good bye! I had passed the exam.

SECRETARY Our secretary was a small girl, with delicate features, prettier than the average Bengali woman. She was in her 30 but she looked less than 20, and she had been married for sometime. One day I asked her how many children she had and she replied:

Three Sir, a boy and two girls - I got the 10 year old boy from my husband, then he left and I haven't known anything about him for years.

But ......beg your pardon ....your daughters ...who's the real father?

I don't know Sir – she replied – at night we all sleep in a large room, we don't have electricity and it's dark – so I don't know exactly who the father of the two girls is. Too sad......

HINDU TEMPLE VISIT. I had learned of the existence of the very important Hindu Kantajewm temple, around 40 km away from Thakurgaon. Kantanagar Temple, commonly known as Kantaji Temple or Kantajew Temple in Kantanagar, is a late medieval Hindu temple near Dinajpur. Kantajew Temple is a religious building built in the 18th century. The temple belongs to the Hindu Kanta or Krishna and this is the most popular with the Radha-Krishna (memorable love assembly) cult in Bengal. This temple is dedicated to Krishna and his wife Rukmini. Built by Maharaja Pran Nath, its construction began in 1704 AD. and ended during the reign of his son Raja Ramnath in 1722 AD. It is an example of terracotta architecture in Bangladesh and once had nine spiers, but all were destroyed in an earthquake in 1897. The driver took me there in a Friday afternoon. The temple was beyond a marshy area and a man with a rowboat ferried us to the island. Taking advantage of the relative isolation, a small community of Hindu fishermen and farmers who had settled there were little safer, in a country where 99% of the population is Muslim. I met a group of Hindu pilgrims from a Dakha school, visiting the temple. And I spoke to the ''Guru'' of the temple itself, a small, elderly man with a face lined with a thousand wrinkles. In truth the temple was very beautiful and large. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I retain the memory of an enchanted and timeless place, where miserable human events lost their meaning.

CHOLERA There is an unwritten law in the country: up to 500 deaths a day, the press and television report the news as ''dysentery''. Between 500 and 1000 deaths per day the news is given as a ''possible cholera epidemic, the case investigations are underway''. Starting from a more significant number of daily deaths, the area of infection is subjected to lockdown, in an attempt to limit the proliferation of the disease. In the country there are thousands of deaths per year from these epidemics.

AMBULANCES As a country at the bottom of the list of underdeveloped states, Bangladesh was and is the object of continuous aid and donations from International Organizations. In 1992, the Croix Rouge of Belgium collected enough donations to purchase two modern Mercedes ambulances to ship to Bangladesh. Arriving by ship at the port of Chittagong, the two ambulances could not be unloaded. The local customs asked the Belgian Croix Rouge to pay the import taxes. The Belgian Ambassador, present at the port and waiting to attend the ceremony of delivery of the ambulances to the local Red Crescent, realizing that the problem was not solvable, ordered the ambulances to be brought back to Belgium.

TETULIA A Friday, a day of rest in Bangladesh, I left for an excursion to Tetulia. Also known as "The City of Dreams", Tetulia is a city in the far north of Bangladesh - tea, orange and pineapple cultivation is abundant in its surroundings and is located on the Indian border with Darjeeling. It was a wonderful day, and from the heights of the city I saw the snow-capped Kanchenjunga shining in all its beauty, the third highest mountain on earth, less than 100 km away as the crow flies. In addition to the shining Himalayan mountains, I also saw the very high fence that the Indian Government had installed along the border to try to prevent the illegal immigration of Bangladeshis into India. In 1992, India launched an operation called 'Push Back' in an attempt to repatriate many of the 20 million-plus Bangladeshis living in India illegally.

Mr. CODA. A morning, after breakfast I went to the office: I needed to speak to the Site Manager, but Mr. Coda had not yet arrived. I waited in vain for his arrival for about hour, then I asked the secretary-factotum - a very smart Bengali guy - to accompany me to the site manager's house. We knocked in vain and then called the cleaning girl who had a passpartout key. Once the lock was opened, the door resisted because Mr. Coda's body was on the ground against it. The secretary heard his heartbeat and gestured to me with his thumb: he's breathing, he's still alive! We put him on the bed, the nurse had arrived and was carrying out some maneuvers to try to resuscitate the poor guy. In the end Coda reopened his eyes, he was obviously dazed but managed to blurt out a few words like ''my heart… my heart''. A nitroglycerin tablet was placed under his tongue, in the meantime I had gone out to call the driver and have the Toyota prepared to transport Mr. Coda to the Italian Missionaries' hospital. So within a few minutes we placed the poor guy in the Toyota with the seat reclined. I took a seat next to him and we left for the hospital. The 40 km that separated us from the hospital were traveled at the maximum speed allowed by the condition of the road and traffic. When we arrived in front of the hospital Father Rodolfo was out there. He saw Coda's suffering face and said:

Poor thing! What happened to him?

I think he had an heart attack Father!

Ohh…poor guy…eeeehh…I mean…did you bring any medicine with you?

………………….. I was speechless…….

Sorry Father… the medicines… to tell the truth we… thought that the medicines… you had them here… it's a hospital here no?…

Noo……noo…here we just have some sedatives……and something for colds and flu….

So we came all this way for nothing?

No why? We can pray together…….

Thank you Father……. We retraced our steps, while Mr. Coda seemed to be doing a little better. Before leaving the base, I had asked the secretary to call Dhaka and inform the Branch of what had happened. When we were back in Thakurgaon, Branch had called to say that an air ambulance SOS Medical from Singapore had been alerted, and that it would arrive at Dhaka airport the following afternoon to evacuate the patient. The problem was to transport Coda to Dhaka, 700 km away. On the plane it would have been dangerous for a person with an ongoing heart attack. It was decided to leave immediately for Dhaka with the Toyota, me, Coda and the driver. It was a difficult journey, 700 km of very bumpy state roads, with the crossing of the Brahmaputra river by locals ferry, a small boat made of colored wood and sheet metal where sixty people and two cars were piled up. The crossing took almost two hours, and takes place by cutting the river diagonally, because the current does not allow otherwise. After a journey of over 15 hours, we arrived at Dhaka Airport in the afternoon. Our local customs officer was waiting for us and had already negotiated permission to access the plane's parking area by car. Mr. Coda was quite well, considering his state of health and the long difficult journey from Thakurgaon. The Singaporean doctor and nurse welcomed him on board the plane which was a real flying operating room. They checked his health, put him to bed, immediately hooking him up to various machines. We said goodbye to Coda, wishing him good luck. The next day I returned to Thakurgaon by airliner, leaving the driver the ''pleasure'' of returning alone.

After a few days, we were informed that Coda had passed the critical phase, and once he had fully recovered he would return to Italy on an commercial airliner. We were requested to send his belongings to Dhaka.

PROMOTION I was therefore promoted to the new Construction Site Manager, I must say to the happiness of all the employees, both expatriates and especially locals, who did not take kindly to my predecessor's frequent outbursts. One of the first measures I took was the dismissal of the cook and the promotion of his deputy. It happened one day just before lunch - I saw that Bengali cook returning from his shopping with a motor rickshaw. On the seat next to him, from a distance, I couldn't make out clearly, but I thought I saw bags of cement! I left the office and approached the canteen, noticing that the cook was unloading some bags of cement, yes, but they contained rice, flour, grains!

But you've gone crazy or what??? ! I told the cook, already annoyed.

Why Sir? Why are you telling me this? He answers me with the most surprised face

Why?? you're transporting the stuff that WE eat in bags where before there was cement! And you ask me why I get angry??

But Sir……I eat this stuff too, not just you….

You can poison yourself as you like, but you can't poison us!! Okay, let's go to the kitchen, while we're on the subject I want to do an inspection. We went into the kitchen, and what I saw took away all my doubts:

Abdulkharim…come to the office…immediately! When we were in the office, I called the secretary and in front of the cook I ordered him to prepare the letter of dismissal and all his entitlements - I wanted him out of the camp by evening. In the afternoon Abdulkharim again asked to speak to me.

Tell me quickly, I don't have time to waste with you…

Sir, I'm very sorry Sir……and in any case you will appoint the assistant chef as the new head chef in my place.

And then?

Well you don't know what he does when you Italians are absent and can't see! -What does he do?

He takes one of the girls into the storage room and then………

Really??

Yes Sir….

Well, then in this case I will give him a raise… goodbye.

Well…Sir…

Fatimah accompanies this gentleman out.

BENGALI MINISTRY OF TRANSPORT VISIT The rehabilitation of the Dinajpour – Panchagar road was a project of National interest. One day a visit by a government delegation led by the Minister of Transport was announced. I got in touch with the Dhaka branch, and informed them about the visit. They were already aware of it, and they told me that the commercial attaché of the Italian Embassy in Dhaka, Mr. Colombo, would also participate in the event. On the day of the visit everything was ready to worthily receive the Minister. But with my desappointment, the Italian Embassy chose a ''low profile'' and denied permission for Mr. Colombo to reach Thakurgaon and attend the Minister's visit. I therefore found myself alone in front of a large delegation from the Ministry, whose members all had questions to ask and curiosities to satisfy. Nonetheless, the visit went well: the Minister was satisfied with what he had seen, and was impressed by the crushing plant (a premiere in the country). The visit ended with a reception at our compound, during which traditional Bengali dishes were served.

The next day I was informed by the secretary that in the evening, on the state channel, the news would be broadcasting a report on the Minister's visit - so I saw myself on TV, and I must admit that it wasn't bad at all. Following the reportage, sometimes in the shops or cafeterias of Thakourgaon I was ''pointed out'' by someone who had seen me on TV. However, the lack of participation on the part of BONATTI, the Italian Embassy, and in general the news coming from Italy, where the Company was heavily investigated by the Judiciary, had generated a sense of abandonment and distrust in the local staff.

DIESEL We had enormous logistical difficulties, and one of the most critical was the continuous lack of diesel and fuel in general. The supply took place through tankers which sometimes arrived from very far away. There was a particularly difficult period, in which many construction operations had to be suspended due to lack of fuel. One day we were notified that a tanker with 33,000 liters of diesel had left from Dhaka – 700 km away – towards Thakurgaon. The wait became exhausting, especially due to the obligation to sip the remaining diesel. After 2 days we were informed that in a village about 30 km from Thakurgaon a tanker - probably ours - had had an accident. We left immediately to go and check, once we arrived on site we found that it was the tank intended for us that had had the accident. The driver, probably tired from the long journey, had fallen asleep, the truck had ended up in the drainage ditch next to the road, and had tilted onto its side. The usual crowd that had appeared out of nowhere had gathered to witness the accident, and everyone watched impassively as the fuel leaked from the open manholes of the tanker and flowed into the drainage ditch and then towards the nearby river! Nobody did anything to stop the disaster, and that was precisely the reason why Bangladesh was the country it was: not even in the face of accidents, spreading infections, natural disasters, these people moved a muscle! They simply watched helplessly. The driver was unharmed, but in shock. Luckily we found an old crane and within an hour we managed to right the truck – half the fuel load had gone into the river, unfortunately. The vehicle was damaged and unable to continue, we left a couple of people to guard the tank. The next day we sent another tanker to transfer the remaining diesel, and then finally reach the Thakurgaon field.

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born2battle · 4 years ago

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Baptism by Fire ---- 1971 War

On 01 Nov, I reported to Maj P V Mithran, the Battery Commander of Romeo Battery. He extended a hearty welcome & introduced me to all the Jawans, specifically mentioning about my outstanding performance as winner of the Silver Gun at Deolali. He expressed the hope that I will prove to be a competent GPO and a long term asset in the Jat Balwan family. He advised me to get conversant with all drills on the 75 mm Howitzer and the technical work in the Command Post, within next one week. He nominated the Instructors who would conduct this on the job training. Then, we had the “ Take Post “ ceremony at the Gun, which signalled the start of my Induction training. It was so encouraging to begin this journey, in a scenario, where the entire Regiment was deployed for the operational role.

All training was conducted within the perimeter of the Gun Position, covering an area of 2 square km. Individual training was conducted for the first two hours & was followed by Collective training for the next two hours. It covered Gun Drill, Command Post work, Survey schemes & Driving and maintenance. Soon after lunch, all Officers & JCOs had classes on special subjects such as Fire Planning, Radio communication procedures, basic battle procedures of an Infantry Battalion & Terrain analysis of the likely area of operations. Soon after dinner, we practised deployment drills, both at the OP end & the Gun end. This methodology of training would contribute as a battle winning factor shortly. Despite this hectic schedule, I managed to find time to write letters to my parents & friends.Interestingly, letters had to be written on Red / Green coloured Forces letters & dispatched via FPO --- set up by Army Postal Service !!

During my Induction training, I got an opportunity to observe the customs of my Jawans & understand their behaviour at the grassroots level. I had some difficulty in comprehending their JAT dialect initially but was able to forge a relationship gradually. I found the JATs to be robust and competent while executing any task. They were voracious foodies & loved to prepare’ Halwa’, even in small groups. Meanwhile, my BC monitored the progress about my training and allowed me to fire the Gun for the first time.I felt thrilled when I pressed the firing lever of the Ranging Gun, while all the Gun detachments cheered in unison ---” Bol Kishan Bhagwan ki Jay.” I was permitted to continue firing throughout the Shoot, which was controlled by the OP officer, engaging the target which was 8 km away. At the end of this maiden experience, I distributed sweets to all the Jawans , as per the regimental custom.

Meanwhile, a special Force named Mukti Bahini, was created out of the Bengali population of erstwhile East Pakistan. This special force comprised of 25,000 conventional forces and 80,000 freedom fighters. It operated as a part of the operations conducted by Indian Armed Forces. In our sector of operations Mukti Bahini was utilized for guerilla operations for the Battle of Pachagarh. It was the first time when I performed the duties of GPO giving fire orders from the Command Post. This was also the first occasion when we were under shelling from enemy artillery guns. However, we had to continue firing our guns in retaliation after moving to alternate positions.

In the last week of November, the situation became critical. As we advanced the enemy retreated to occupy defensive positions after blowing up the bridges on the rivers/ canals. 98 Mountain Regiment was part of the thrust from north to south while there were similar thrusts into East Pakistan from easterly and westerly directions. On 03 December 1971, Pakistan launched a surprise air strike on our air bases right from Srinagar to Barmer. In immediate response, our Prime Minister, Mrs. Indira Gandhi announced on All India Radio “War has been forced on us”. Thus began the 1971 war.

Lt Col Chaturvedi, our CO held an urgent Sainik Sammelan and briefed us about the latest development. He also briefed us about the future plans for suitable response. All of us resolved that we will deliver the results to the best of our abilities and utmost of our capacities especially in this war situation. The very next day, we heard the news about the success achieved by Indian Navy who had sunk the Pakistani Submarine - PNS Ghazi of the coast of Vizag.

In our sector, our next objective was Thakurgaon which was very heavily defended. The planning for its capture was in progress by the higher commanders. At the gun position ,we were busy digging gun pits, weapon pits, command post and alternate positions which would prove their utility in the event of shelling. Our CO, BCs and OP officers evolved a detailed fire plan for the capture of Thakurgaon. These plans were sent to the Adjutant command post for further dissemination to each of the GPOs. We had to calculate the technical data and keep it ready for application on the guns. The capture of Thakurgaon was completed after two nights of intense battle. Major Virinder Kumar, who was our BC in this action, was later awarded the Sena Medal for his gallantry.

Our next objective was Dinajpur, which was another hard nut to crack. Similar preparations were carried out after we moved forward and deployed in a new gun position. It was equally essential to replenish the ammunition keeping in pace with the expenditure. This was done only during night. The attack was launched on Dinajpur which was captured after three nights. It was again another OP officer of our Regiment who proved his worth - Capt Prakash Chand who was later awarded the ‘Mention in Despatches’. However, two Jawans (L/NK Ran Singh and OPR Ram Chander) of his OP party were martyred. We were then ordered to move quickly towards Rangpur. This was achieved after crossing the rivers / tributaries en-route using pontoon bridges. Eventually, Rangpur garrison was surrounded by 14 Dec.

We learnt about the progress of operations along all the three thrusts which had converged very close to Dhaka. All India Radio announced about our successful amphibious landings at Cox’s Bazaar as well as a magnificent air drop at Tangail. These two surprise actions were a clear indication that the noose was tightening on Dhaka. Finally, on 16 Dec, the cease fire was declared bringing an end to the war in both Eastern and Western theatres. The main surrender ceremony was held in Dhaka where Lt Gen AAK Niazi, GOC in C, Pakistan Eastern Theatre surrendered along with 93,000 troops to Lt Gen JS Aurora, GOC in C, Eastern Command. It was indeed a decisive victory for India which resulted in the birth of Bangladesh.

Similar surrender ceremony was held at Rangpur, where we were directly involved. It was a historic achievement for our Regiment, remembered forever, in our regimental history. Personally, I felt privileged to be baptised in the Jat Balwan family in this memorable manner. Hereafter, my course (38 NDA) earned the title “Born To Battle” Course.

In the midst of all this jubilation, there was a sombre feeling when I heard the news that Second Lieutenant Arun Khetarpal, my Coursemate ( 38th / Foxtrot ) had been martyred in the Battle of Basantar on the night of 15/16 December. He was the Troop Commander in 17 Poona Horse and displayed extreme gallantry in a skirmish with enemy tanks, even after his tank was hit by enemy tanks. His act of supreme sacrifice, was honoured with the highest gallantry award --- the Param Vir Chakra !! The Drill Square in NDA has since been renamed as Khetarpal Parade Ground , as a mark of respect to the Bravest of the Braves !!!

#1971 war #indian army #fauji

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