SOON after the terror attack on Parliament on December 13, 2001, troops were rushed to the border. I was tasked with moving a mobile radar unit to a field location close to the border and making it operational as per the timeline. Packing technical equipment and administrative apparatus at an unbelievable speed, the unit personnel ensured that the convoy was on a dark, isolated and bumpy road at 3 am in the biting cold.
Hardly 20 to 30 km from our parent base, one of the Tatra trucks developed a snag. In the dark, it was difficult to locate the fault and undertake on-road rectification. Calling the parent base for assistance just an hour after departure was not a good idea; it could have invited both opprobrium and ridicule, sullying the reputation of the unit. Overcoming the dilemma, it was decided to try out a bizarre option — towing the huge vehicle with another loaded Tatra till daybreak. As luck would have it, the experiment worked and the convoy didn’t really fall behind schedule despite the unforeseen delay.
But the relief was short-lived. One of the MTDs (mechanical transport driver) was found running high fever, but he was unwilling to leave the wheel. The only other officer in the convoy, with less than two years of service, briefed me about the contingency. With no spare Tatra driver available, he volunteered to drive it himself, much to my consternation as well as admiration. Disregarding rules but floored by the josh of the young officer, I hesitatingly consented, nonetheless customarily advising him to be very careful.
The convoy moved ahead uneventfully. It was given right of way by civilian drivers, even as children waved or saluted. After covering around 400 km, we halted for dinner at a roadside dhaba. Around 70 of us had food; we then intended to move on quickly and reach our ‘op location’ as early as possible.
But the dhaba owner refused to accept payment for the meal. Perplexed, I asked him the reason for his generosity. I was taken aback by his reply in Gujarati, the translation of which went something like this: ‘Sir, you please move on… it is a very small gesture… Yours is a noble mission. But this time, don’t spare those scoundrels so that they don’t again dare to cast a bad eye on our motherland.’ All of us were left speechless and overwhelmed. This small but significant gesture electrified the entire convoy. It proved to be a source of inspiration and josh for us throughout our deployment, and remains so for me even today.