No Army officer can ever erase the memory of that historic day in his personal life, when all the cadets at the Indian Military Academy were allotted their respective choice of arms in their final term. The Military Secretary branch which allots the arms implements the principle of national integration in true letter and spirit. A South Indian is most likely to get a Punjab Regiment and a Punjabi is more likely to get the Madras Regiment. I took a chance to trick the system.
Being from Punjab, I opted for the Madras Regiment and lo and behold, I got the Punjab Regiment. 27 Punjab uniquely grooms its youngsters, for one month, I was ordered to stay with the troops and break the bread with them in the same tent. The Officers’ Mess was out of bounds. For seven days, I was to perform as a Platoon Havildar, the next week as the Kote (Armoury) NCO, another seven days as a Company Havildar Major and the last week as the Platoon Commander. On termination of this baptism, three tests were conducted for me; a regimental language test i.e. Punjabi, the gruelling Battle Physical Efficiency test and the Physical Proficiency test. And only after having scored excellent grades in all these three tests, was I invited to the Officers’ Mess for a dignified ‘Dining In’. This SOP empowered me to learn the ropes of every appointment. But the worst was yet to come.
On my very first day in the mess, I got ticked off by an old Regimental Sikh steward, on three issues. One, for my ‘loose’ uniform belt, second, for keeping my hands in my pocket and lastly, for standing on one leg. This had such a profound impact on my impressionable mind that even now, I shudder to put my hands in my pockets at any gathering. Never, I dared to slouch around or stand on one leg. I had the opportunity to lead several long-range patrols with the Sikh troops. Sikh troops are very tall, sturdy and mentally tough. Nothing can break their morale. On one such long-range patrol, I was surprised to hear a hissing sound from the metallic bucket, an innovative Sikh soldier was carrying. When I enquired from him about the cause of the hissing sound from his bucket, he lifted the lid off, wearing a crooked smile. I was pleasantly taken aback to see a burning stove inside on which hot tea was being brewed in a right-sized pan which exactly fitted along the circumference of the bucket. It smelt so good. He was quick to add; ‘Sahab, 15 mint baad appan Chah break karange’ (We will have a tea break after 15 minutes). Another great soldierly quality which comes naturally to a Sikh soldier is adaptability. I experienced this first hand, when I led 15 Punjab to a UN peacekeeping deployment in January 2007, immediately after the Israel–Lebanon war. The mandate was to ensure peace between the Hezbollah fighters and the Israeli Defence Forces at their border known as the ‘Blue Line’.
Being foodies to the core, my Sikh troops were overjoyed at the voluminous non-veg rations issued by the United Nations. The rations had to be compatible with the huge amount of calories authorised for a soldier deployed as part of the United Nations Force. These entitled calories were much more than a soldier deployed in the Indian Army. Our Sikh soldiers mainly from the rural heartland of Punjab went berserk looking at the rich fare comprising of hams, sausages, boneless chicken and a variety of marmalades, laid out on the breakfast table every day.
The Junior Commissioned Officer responsible for maintaining the unit ration stock had a harrowing experience managing huge amounts of frozen meat and chicken, which he had never experienced way back in India. In the Indian Army, the soldiers are served non-vegetarian dishes thrice a week, but here in Lebanon, they were being served daily for lunch and dinner in huge quantities. But, as they say, too much of anything is bad. Their honeymoon with the taste buds was soon over. Hardly a month had elapsed when all my soldiers badly yearned for a simple meal comprising of daal, subzi and roti. My unit gave another surprise to the logistics staff officers of UN Force HQ. They were shocked at the massive demand for gas cylinders from my unit Quartermaster.
When my Force Commander, Maj Gen Claudio Graziano (an Italian) visited 15 Punjab for his first informal interaction with the Sikhs, he had his first question ready for my troops. ‘What do you do with all these gas cylinders you demand every week?’ I had to intervene to render a convincing explanation justifying the huge consumption of gas cylinders vis–a–vis European contingents. ‘Sir, Italian and Spanish soldiers merely warm up their food in microwave ovens whereas our Sikh boys can’t partake in their food without a mandatory ‘Tarka’. He raised his eyebrows at this new word added to his dictionary. I went on to explain the procedure of ‘Tarka’. ‘Sir, before my soldier consumes his food, he likes to heat it with lots of desi ghee with abundant spices and onion which is well-stirred and browned, to make it more palatable. He grinned widely and was seemingly satisfied. The very next day, he approved a special financial sanction for the use of additional gas cylinders to the 15 Punjab as an exception.
Another sphere, where I found Sikh soldiers to be great assets, was in the field of driving on foreign soil. It was extremely difficult for the drivers to suddenly start driving on the right with the oncoming traffic speeding towards you from your left. But, as usual, our Sikhs, not only adapted themselves to the new mode of driving in double quick time, but also felt very privileged to follow the Lebanese custom of always having to smile at other drivers, crossing by, especially girls.
That’s a different matter that their smiles were much broader when the driver crossing them was a Lebanese girl. However, before sending them on short leaves to India, I always used to advise them to unlearn this practice of smiling at girls in India, lest they are misunderstood. Another thing Sikh troops greatly missed in Lebanon was our good old Samosas, Jalebis and Halwa during their evening tea. To boost their morale, I struck upon an idea to open a unit-level eatery with one of my Sikh soldiers whipping out delectable Jalebis. After a week, I noticed a beeline of civilians next to the eatery to buy the Jalebis. Jalebis and Halwa sold like hotcakes as they had never tasted such a sweet dish ever in their lives. They confessed the only sweet dish they ever knew of was chocolates. Looking back, it has been a great privilege to have served with the finest Sikh soldiers who possess an uncanny knack for adapting to any situation, of course, backed by their ‘Jugaad’.
