THE wait for action in Op Parakram turned out to be unending. There was uncertainty in the air as two nuclear powers came eyeball to eyeball, expecting the other to blink. Keeping the energy and josh intact was a major task. One morning, a helicopter was spotted circling over the camp, apparently intending to land. The unit was on high alert. Following an enquiry, the base replied: ‘Why has the helipad not been activated? The Station Commander and the Air HQ observer are right over your head.’
After an authentication, the helipad party rushed to uncover the ‘H’ marking for the visitors. Alighting, the observer, a senior officer, casually asked: ‘Why was there a delay in helipad activation’? I calmly cited the SOP, with the Station Commander nodding in agreement. The two officers were taken around. Both were impressed by the obvious hard work undertaken — innovative camouflaging, management of solid/liquid waste, underground armoury, op infrastructure well hidden, a motivated unit with a well-laid-out, clean camp, carefully dispersed assets and a treetop observation post.
Expectantly, the next day, instructions were received for field craft orientation and training for other units’ personnel at our unit. The task was undertaken in the coming week. Then, the news came about the impending visit of the Air Officer Commanding-in-chief (AOC-in-C) and the Defence Minister to the unit. Now this was a bit too much for the small unit. Concerns about the transport resources were duly conveyed. Curt but concise instructions followed: “Receive the AOC-in-C in the unit’s Maruti Gypsy at 11.30 am. Familiarise him with the camp set-up. Arrange lunch with unit personnel at 1300 hours. AOC-in-C, accompanied by you, will receive the Defence Minister. AOC-in-C will take the minister around. You be in the rear seat, ensuring all goes well and smooth. No frills, no formality.”
On D-Day, the AOC-in-C landed in time and regaled us with his sharp wit. During the buffet, he asked the head waiter, Kabul Singh, to offer a plate first to the juniormost person. ‘When I could eat heartily, I was last in the row. Now I can’t eat, but I get the plate first,’ he said jokingly.
Modestly dressed in kurta-pyjama and leather chappals, the minister arrived unobtrusively, slipping into the tent with the unit ready to listen to him. He exhorted all to be vigilant. Kabul proudly served juice and onion pakoras, which the minister politely declined. Kabul was not used to giving up easily. He said: ‘Sirji, inne shauk naal banaye han, tussi ta kujh wi nahi lainde (I fondly prepared them, but you are not taking anything).’ The minister finally relented: ‘Tussi pyaar nal keya, kidan mana kariye? (how can your loving offer be refused)’, triggering instant applause and laughter. No wonder the unit’s morale was on cloud nine throughout the deployment.