Read An Excerpt From Rajesh Ramachandran’s Heroes of 1971

Routed Pak brigade on the run

The momentous fall of Akhaura triggered a hasty retreat by Pakistan’s 27 Infantry Brigade towards Meghna river, with India’s tank squadron and 4 Guards in hot pursuit. Having captured the enemy advance defences at Talashahar, 4 Guards were ordered to break contact with the enemy and assemble at Brahmanbaria in anticipation of a new task, still under active consideration. Breaking contact with a withdrawing enemy in battle amounts to having the enemy on the ropes, yet not delivering the knockout punch. However, this is where experience and military judgement take over. At the tactical level, such a direction seemed strange; however, at the operational level, as it later turned out, the stage was being set for a bigger blow—Dhaka.

The 18 Rajput and 10 Bihar continued their relentless drive towards the bridge. This reinforced the enemy perception that our objective was to capture the bridge intact. Both battalions reached within 300 yards of the bridge on the Meghna. Such speed, always necessary when in contact with the enemy, is an adrenalin booster. So it was. However, the demolished bridges and culverts delayed the battalions’ redeployment. Our troops were soon beyond the enemy’s artillery range; besides, our Forward Air Controller, Flying Officer Shahid, had been injured, and his communication equipment destroyed.

Sagat conferred with his Air Force commander, Group Captain Chandan Singh, and ordered a battalion to be flown in helicopters across the Meghna for the march to Dhaka—this later came to be known as the ‘Helibridge over the Meghna’. The battalion was 4 Guards. There was some murmur about ground fire, to which Chandan retorted: ‘I will be in the leading chopper.’ That provided closure to the debate. The heli-lift of 4 Guards was Air Force’s golden moment. The 110 Helicopter Unit, under Squadron Leader CS Sandhu’s leadership, and supported by a band of brave young pilots, worked with precision and a tireless turnaround schedule. They positioned the battalion across the Meghna: a feat nonpareil.

Next, I was ordered to take my tanks across the Meghna. The Soviet-made PT-76 tank was designed to cross European rivers, which are generally 200–300 metres wide. In comparison, the Meghna was almost like a sea, and in the midst of the battle, and when ordered to cross it, to me it seemed like an ocean! I could not see the other bank. However, my GOC’s intent was set in stone, and when he asked me whether we could cross the river, my reply was in the affirmative.

Having said that, I was not sure of the ‘how’ part of the operation. I was a greenhorn, and thank God for it! Greenhorns get smitten by commanders whose reputation and charisma settle for nothing less than the best. My answer had to be a ‘Yes, sir’; and so it was. The speed of the water current in the Meghna was in the double digits in knots. I don’t know exactly what it was, but I could see that the flow was very swift. As the rivers get closer to the Bay of Bengal, they pick up speed and the current is much stronger than what the PT-76 tanks could negotiate in a near-perpendicular crossing across the two banks, which is often the battle requirement when the opposite bank is held. Fortunately, in our case, the far bank was not held by the enemy. Anticipating that I would have to exit downstream of my entry due to the speed of the water current, I requested for a helicopter to do a reconnaissance of the river. It was granted. Not satisfied with the first sortie, I asked for a second sortie, and that, too, was approved. In the meantime, my troop leader, Lt Raj Khindri, assisted by the locals, had reconnoitred the home bank and found a marsh-free entry route into the river. My aerial sorties helped me mark out small islands in the river, which would allow me to make short hops. The entry and exit points to the islands were laterally separated by miles. My idea was to move from island to island—island hopping, as it were. We hopped countless times and crossed.