Also read: Siachen Story Part 2 - Deployment
We stayed holed up in that bunker till about 6:30 pm, when it become dark and the shelling stopped. My first exposure to being under fire was for almost ten hours. I met the officer and his men who were in the OP bunker - all grinning from ear to ear on seeing their 'reliever', and were they relieved! Next few hours were spent trying to understand the layout of the post, all of 20 x 20 metres on a saddle formed between two peaks. I also had to understand the lay of the ground, enemy positions, gun locations and understand the map well. All at night.
We stayed holed up in that bunker till about 6:30 pm, when it become dark and the shelling stopped. My first exposure to being under fire was for almost ten hours. I met the officer and his men who were in the OP bunker - all grinning from ear to ear on seeing their 'reliever', and were they relieved! Next few hours were spent trying to understand the layout of the post, all of 20 x 20 metres on a saddle formed between two peaks. I also had to understand the lay of the ground, enemy positions, gun locations and understand the map well. All at night.
I was to live in an ice bunker or 'cave', 8ft x 10ft along with my OP team and a nursing assistant who had already spent some time on the post. Since the bunker was barely 4 feet high, we had to crawl in through a tunnel that was curved to keep out splinters and the snow, and I realized that the roof was supported by the tail frame of a Cheetah helicopter! And the only officer in the bunker had the privilege of keeping his personal stuff on the shelves patched up within the frame. We had central heating - four perpetually burning stoves kept in the centre of the bunker, belonging to each man, and individual lighting - those bulbs that we'd carried along from our unit. The interior was soot blackened because of the stoves and dark in spite of the small bulbs that were on throughout the day. One corner was dedicated to our food stores: cartons of condensed milk, nuts and chocolates, packaged juices, and a whole lot more. In fact, this was what Siachen was famous for - the unending supplies of expensive and high quality packaged food that was way beyond the reach of most soldiers and officers outside of Siachen. The stoves were used for heating as well as cooking. Thanks to kerosene, which does not freeze even at -50C! Every trip in the open or in the OP bunker for observation duties was followed by hot water treatment - essentially putting your hands and feet in a container full of hot water to thaw them out. Since there were no buckets on the post, jerry cans cut along the cross section made a perfect flat water container.
The next morning, I got into the daily routine of getting up at at least 0530 hours to crap. Reasons: you had to drop it in the open, so dark was prefered (no drainage or plumbing is possible in -50C, on top of which regular shelling destroys everything that's not inside a bunker), and you had to do it before the enemy started shelling after first light. The first day was very embarrassing - you had to sit in the open flanked by soldiers amidst small piles of shit that had frozen and could not be removed or buried. Thankfully, I didn't have to expose my 'officer-like' ass to the men - only because our clothes had a strategically located zipper system that allowed us to unzip, drop our load, wash and zip up before you could say 'Jack Robinson"! On heading back to my bunker, I saw the Nursing Assistant holding an intact mortar bomb and gleefully shouting "this will make a good souvenir". We had a tough time convincing him to throw it and hoped it wouldn't blow up in the process. Unexploded ordnance is very dangerous and can blow up even if its just touched!
My team landed up over the next two days, amidst long shelling sessions. We got down to improving the OP bunker, essentially rebuilding it at night. During the process of digging up snow to fill the sand bags, we discovered a sack full of AK47 ammunition, which we used over the next few days for target practice on the condensed milk tins lying around the bunkers. Food was essentially some noodles in the morning, canned juice, nuts, tea and chocolates throughout the day and we would make some regular 'dinner' at night. There was chicken and tinned fish lying around in sacks that no one seemed interested in eating. This was attributable purely to superstition that 'OP Baba' would get angry if someone on a post ate meat (this was extended to even chocolate, on some posts!). A few days on, decided that I would not go along with this and asked my men to prepare chicken for lunch for me. Initially, they refused to eat it themselves, but after a few days, the need for protein overcame their superstition; chicken and fish became a daily affair in our bunker. The infantry soldiers were a bit more conservative and they refused to eat it, as did the captain who was the post commander. They did tell me that I was testing the OP Baba's patience and some great misfortune would befall me, but here I am, twenty years later. So much for OP Baba! I think this was a very convenient belief for those who were in the racket of siphoning off the expensive rations to be sold in the black market in Chandigarh. Only issue with fish was that most of the time it gave us the loosies and our only worry was using the (non existent) toilet during shelling. And chicken needed 25 'whistles' and two hours in the pressure cooker!
Incessant shelling was a regular feature on most days. Bombs falling around you every day makes you immune to the shock and noise after some time. We actually learnt to sleep through shelling in the afternoon, for want of anything better to do. Sometimes, the stoves would go off because of the shock from an explosion and one of us had to get up and relight them. During our time at 'Amar', almost 60 days, no one got hurt. The most dangerous time was dusk, when shelling would stop (probably because of the enemy's 'Namaz' timings) and everyone would be eager to get out of the bunkers. The Pakistanis would fire a few parting shorts after a gap to catch the people outside, but fortunately, no one got hurt. So we made it a point to go out only after waiting for some time.
Our only contact with the world was the trusted ANPRC radio set. However, because of reduced ranges due to terrain screening, secrecy devices were not used. The radio operators created their own codes for daily chatter. South Indian troops were sought after as they were not understood by the enemy. There was, of course BBC and All India Radio to entertain us. Once in a while the helicopter would bring us mail which was sought after by the soldiers waiting for some news from their families. There was no leave during the six month tenure on the post, simply because of the time and effort required to reach the forward line. So everyone would be waiting eagerly for their time to come to an end.
I don't want to give away the secrets of artillery fire control at these heights. For those who understand, distance from gun to target, 15,000 m; OP to target 1200-1600 m; and target height 6100 m ASL. Gunners around the world will understand the difficulty of hitting such a target, thanks to effect of slope and meteorology in mountains! I was a newly promoted Captain and had not yet done my fire control course. But later, I realized some 'moves' that I improvised were part of standard procedure.
At this height, normal blood pressure of human being is 160 / 110 and our nursing assistant would check it every week. Walking even 5 metres was tiring and we would be breathless, especially when it was windy. Things were worse on a bad weather day - clouds, snow fall and extreme winds brought down temperatures to -50C. Just getting out of the bunker would be a difficult task. The good part: there was generally no shelling on such days, and there were no 'link patrols' on this post. It simply wasn't linked to any other place on Earth!
Superstition was widespread among troops on the post. A day after we repaired our OP bunker, it was sprayed with medium machine gun fire and there were prominent pock marks all over the sand bags(these were white to merge with the snow). Obviously, the enemy was keeping an eye on us. A couple of infantry soldiers who were on duty at that time said that it was because we were eating meat. They tried to dissuade us from eating meat in future. To keep 'OP Baba' happy, no doubt! Firing and artillery duels were relatively less frequent in winter due to the cold. In spite of that, it was always 'hot' on Amar, and that's why it was notorious, especially because of the large number of artillery OP officers who'd bought it while on Amar.
I wrote to my CO, back in my own unit a couple of times. He promptly sent copies of my letters to the brigade and divisional commanders. Sure enough, I got letters from them within a month. The brigade commander's letter was nothing interesting, but the General's letter was a morale booster and really well thought out. That's when I really understood how a small interaction with leadership can motivate juniors.
Some 40 days down the line, we got a message that our relief team had started from base camp. Amar OP had normal tenures of 45 days only, due to extremes of height, cold, and hostility. They would, of course take almost two weeks and some days to reach us. We started looking forward to being 'relieved'. We kept track of their progress on a daily basis and talked to the transit posts en-route to make sure they were moving up. They reached the Bila helipad after ten odd days. Now I was fairly certain that the officer would be up in three to four days. But it was not to be - we got news that he had been flown out to Srinagar! It turned out that this officer had been aide de camp to a General, who'd recently taken over command of the Corps in Srinagar. And he wanted to meet his old ADC. So out he flew, although he was back in a couple of days. It seems they didn't want to waste his acclimatisation cycle....
It was a happy day when our relievers, led by an officer who was senior to me, landed. Three days later, we were back in the Bila helipad. That's where we got our next piece of 'good' news. I was to be airlifted to Aman OP(19000+ feet) in the Southern Glacier area. The OP officer there had to be evacuated as he had frostbite, and the post was required to be manned by an officer immediately. This meant that I would be airlifted from here to base camp, then to Thoise, and then yet again to the helipad nearest to Aman post from where I would walk up. My team was also promised a lift, but that's not the way Indian Army works! We were yet to see the reality...
I was dropped at Base Camp the next day at around 12:30 PM. I threw the 2 odd sets of undergarments that I'd worn over the past two months, got a haircut, shave and bath. It was great feeling like a shorn chicken after a long time. A quick lunch, and the discovery that the roll of film that I'd sent over earlier from the post for developing was lost! That sorted out all photos that I'd clicked on Amar! To make matters worse, my camera was acting weird, switching on every once in a while- I guess Siachen has its effects on electronics as well! I was on the MI-17 headed for Thoise at 4 PM. The pilot was my Air Force course mate from NDA, who suggested that I stay on the air base itself for the night, as I had to catch a Cheetah sortie next morning to Southern Glacier.
The next morning, I got into the daily routine of getting up at at least 0530 hours to crap. Reasons: you had to drop it in the open, so dark was prefered (no drainage or plumbing is possible in -50C, on top of which regular shelling destroys everything that's not inside a bunker), and you had to do it before the enemy started shelling after first light. The first day was very embarrassing - you had to sit in the open flanked by soldiers amidst small piles of shit that had frozen and could not be removed or buried. Thankfully, I didn't have to expose my 'officer-like' ass to the men - only because our clothes had a strategically located zipper system that allowed us to unzip, drop our load, wash and zip up before you could say 'Jack Robinson"! On heading back to my bunker, I saw the Nursing Assistant holding an intact mortar bomb and gleefully shouting "this will make a good souvenir". We had a tough time convincing him to throw it and hoped it wouldn't blow up in the process. Unexploded ordnance is very dangerous and can blow up even if its just touched!
My team landed up over the next two days, amidst long shelling sessions. We got down to improving the OP bunker, essentially rebuilding it at night. During the process of digging up snow to fill the sand bags, we discovered a sack full of AK47 ammunition, which we used over the next few days for target practice on the condensed milk tins lying around the bunkers. Food was essentially some noodles in the morning, canned juice, nuts, tea and chocolates throughout the day and we would make some regular 'dinner' at night. There was chicken and tinned fish lying around in sacks that no one seemed interested in eating. This was attributable purely to superstition that 'OP Baba' would get angry if someone on a post ate meat (this was extended to even chocolate, on some posts!). A few days on, decided that I would not go along with this and asked my men to prepare chicken for lunch for me. Initially, they refused to eat it themselves, but after a few days, the need for protein overcame their superstition; chicken and fish became a daily affair in our bunker. The infantry soldiers were a bit more conservative and they refused to eat it, as did the captain who was the post commander. They did tell me that I was testing the OP Baba's patience and some great misfortune would befall me, but here I am, twenty years later. So much for OP Baba! I think this was a very convenient belief for those who were in the racket of siphoning off the expensive rations to be sold in the black market in Chandigarh. Only issue with fish was that most of the time it gave us the loosies and our only worry was using the (non existent) toilet during shelling. And chicken needed 25 'whistles' and two hours in the pressure cooker!
Incessant shelling was a regular feature on most days. Bombs falling around you every day makes you immune to the shock and noise after some time. We actually learnt to sleep through shelling in the afternoon, for want of anything better to do. Sometimes, the stoves would go off because of the shock from an explosion and one of us had to get up and relight them. During our time at 'Amar', almost 60 days, no one got hurt. The most dangerous time was dusk, when shelling would stop (probably because of the enemy's 'Namaz' timings) and everyone would be eager to get out of the bunkers. The Pakistanis would fire a few parting shorts after a gap to catch the people outside, but fortunately, no one got hurt. So we made it a point to go out only after waiting for some time.
Our only contact with the world was the trusted ANPRC radio set. However, because of reduced ranges due to terrain screening, secrecy devices were not used. The radio operators created their own codes for daily chatter. South Indian troops were sought after as they were not understood by the enemy. There was, of course BBC and All India Radio to entertain us. Once in a while the helicopter would bring us mail which was sought after by the soldiers waiting for some news from their families. There was no leave during the six month tenure on the post, simply because of the time and effort required to reach the forward line. So everyone would be waiting eagerly for their time to come to an end.
I don't want to give away the secrets of artillery fire control at these heights. For those who understand, distance from gun to target, 15,000 m; OP to target 1200-1600 m; and target height 6100 m ASL. Gunners around the world will understand the difficulty of hitting such a target, thanks to effect of slope and meteorology in mountains! I was a newly promoted Captain and had not yet done my fire control course. But later, I realized some 'moves' that I improvised were part of standard procedure.
At this height, normal blood pressure of human being is 160 / 110 and our nursing assistant would check it every week. Walking even 5 metres was tiring and we would be breathless, especially when it was windy. Things were worse on a bad weather day - clouds, snow fall and extreme winds brought down temperatures to -50C. Just getting out of the bunker would be a difficult task. The good part: there was generally no shelling on such days, and there were no 'link patrols' on this post. It simply wasn't linked to any other place on Earth!
Superstition was widespread among troops on the post. A day after we repaired our OP bunker, it was sprayed with medium machine gun fire and there were prominent pock marks all over the sand bags(these were white to merge with the snow). Obviously, the enemy was keeping an eye on us. A couple of infantry soldiers who were on duty at that time said that it was because we were eating meat. They tried to dissuade us from eating meat in future. To keep 'OP Baba' happy, no doubt! Firing and artillery duels were relatively less frequent in winter due to the cold. In spite of that, it was always 'hot' on Amar, and that's why it was notorious, especially because of the large number of artillery OP officers who'd bought it while on Amar.
I wrote to my CO, back in my own unit a couple of times. He promptly sent copies of my letters to the brigade and divisional commanders. Sure enough, I got letters from them within a month. The brigade commander's letter was nothing interesting, but the General's letter was a morale booster and really well thought out. That's when I really understood how a small interaction with leadership can motivate juniors.
Some 40 days down the line, we got a message that our relief team had started from base camp. Amar OP had normal tenures of 45 days only, due to extremes of height, cold, and hostility. They would, of course take almost two weeks and some days to reach us. We started looking forward to being 'relieved'. We kept track of their progress on a daily basis and talked to the transit posts en-route to make sure they were moving up. They reached the Bila helipad after ten odd days. Now I was fairly certain that the officer would be up in three to four days. But it was not to be - we got news that he had been flown out to Srinagar! It turned out that this officer had been aide de camp to a General, who'd recently taken over command of the Corps in Srinagar. And he wanted to meet his old ADC. So out he flew, although he was back in a couple of days. It seems they didn't want to waste his acclimatisation cycle....
It was a happy day when our relievers, led by an officer who was senior to me, landed. Three days later, we were back in the Bila helipad. That's where we got our next piece of 'good' news. I was to be airlifted to Aman OP(19000+ feet) in the Southern Glacier area. The OP officer there had to be evacuated as he had frostbite, and the post was required to be manned by an officer immediately. This meant that I would be airlifted from here to base camp, then to Thoise, and then yet again to the helipad nearest to Aman post from where I would walk up. My team was also promised a lift, but that's not the way Indian Army works! We were yet to see the reality...
I was dropped at Base Camp the next day at around 12:30 PM. I threw the 2 odd sets of undergarments that I'd worn over the past two months, got a haircut, shave and bath. It was great feeling like a shorn chicken after a long time. A quick lunch, and the discovery that the roll of film that I'd sent over earlier from the post for developing was lost! That sorted out all photos that I'd clicked on Amar! To make matters worse, my camera was acting weird, switching on every once in a while- I guess Siachen has its effects on electronics as well! I was on the MI-17 headed for Thoise at 4 PM. The pilot was my Air Force course mate from NDA, who suggested that I stay on the air base itself for the night, as I had to catch a Cheetah sortie next morning to Southern Glacier.
Really awesome account sir. Will wait for the next installment...
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