‘The charm of horror only tempts the strong’—Jean Lorrain
The human psychology is a complex web of behavior combining personalities as diverse as optimistic, pessimistic, trusting and envious. However the latter of the four types, envious is the most common with about 30% compared to 20% for each of the other groups. Anxo Sanchez explains this with an example of a specific dilemma: Two people can hunt deer together, but if they are alone they can hunt only rabbits. The person belonging to the envious group will choose to hunt rabbits because he or she will be at least equal to the other hunter, or maybe even better; the optimist will choose to hunt deer because that is the best option for both hunters; the pessimist will go for rabbits because that way he or she is sure to catch something; and the hunter who belongs to the trusting group will cooperate and choose to hunt deer, without a second thought.
The services provide ample opportunities to an individual the charm of tempting his or her fate while going about his routine activity. Some of these activities remain branded in your psyche long after having shed your uniform. The sheer spontaneity, peculiarity and gay abandon with which these activities were carried out can best be ruminated upon in solitude often with a mix bag of amusement and horror. Now to which category my Commanding officers (CO) of 2 Vikas SFF belong to I leave it to the fine judgment of the readers of this tangled tale. An imposing personality standing tall at about 6feet without heels, a fast receding hair line and with a slight swagger in his gait, the old man was a personification of what it takes to call a real tiger in his lair.
Though I had heard the formidable reputation of our old man, earlier too but then it was all hearsay and from a far off distance of Doom Dooma, which I am sure got distorted by the time it reached his admirers or detractors alike. In the armed forces the position of a CO is unenviable to say the least, burdened as it is he with the onerous duties of taking his unit to optimum level of operational preparedness combined with the task of keeping his command fine-tuned with the evolving situations coming his way. The fact that he is lonely at the top in the unit owing to the niceties imposed by the service conditions further complicates his position with hardly any one to share his concerns.
Since the organization of SFF is a very closely knit entity where almost everybody knows each other due to its limited number of units, an unorthodox personality riding high on the crest of past performances both off and on field comes quickly on the radar of his seniors and juniors alike. The new CO too had got affected by the above syndrome in equal measure. Notwithstanding the above, my posting order from HQ SFF stating my induction into OP Meghdoot into a unit being commanded by a redoubtable Commanding officer as stated abovewas going to be prophetic in every sense which future developments were going to testify later on.
‘N’- Area aka Northern area at Chandigarh was the overall coordinating agency for airlifting every single body of personnel headed towards Leh or further up north when the road access was cut off due to heavy snowfall in the winter months. Having reported at ‘N- Area’ as per my posting order in late October 1995, I checked into my accommodation for my onward air journey to THOISE (Transit halt of Indian soldiers enroute to Siachen) air field. Late in the evening I checked out my name in the passengers manifest list that was put-up at the office of N- Area and was relieved to find my name slotted for the first sortie taking off from Chandigarh to Thoise.
Equally thrilled I was to find the name of my new commanding officer too in the passengers list. I headed to the bar of N-Area to while away my time before the dinner was ready in the officer’s mess. Taking a bar stool and making myself comfortable I ordered a small peg of ‘Rum on the rocks’ to the bar NCO and looked around the place for any familiar face. My gaze suddenly stopped at one lone figure who was reading the newspaper with a glass of whisky in his hand. A slightly baldy man with quick receding hair line he seemed to be engrossed in reading the paper. I happen to ask the bar NCO the name of the officer as to who was he. Lo behold! Here was our old man who was famous for his formidable reputation in the SFF. With lots of trepidation I approached the old man wishing him a very good evening extending my hand for a handshake. The old man squeezed up his eyebrows looking up at me with an enquiring look in his eyes. On my revealing the name he got up in a jiffy and extended his fist in response to my handshake. An unorthodox style indeed.
Minutes passed off into hours as both of us revealed ourselves over endless gulps of liquor since this happen to be our first meeting , when suddenly the bar NCO announced it was time to close the bar and call it a day. He further told us that since weather was inclement on ‘Khardungla pass’ our tomorrow’s flight was cancelled. Cursing our luck both of us trundled into the dining hall. Next 2 days were a repeat of the previous days with the weather still playing truant at the Khardungla pass. Both of us now routinely met at the bar to fill up our time at the N-area. On the third night the CO didn’t show up in the bar, since he had called up his course mate and both were busy in his room doing full justice to the quota of liquor entitled to them. Luckily I didn’t take any usual peg of mine that night and retired to bed early.
Next day dawned quite early , rather too early when at about 4.30 am the mess boy gave a ring on my door with a small thermos of tea kept at the front door and also a packet of packed breakfast kept alongside. Having got ready I found out that our flight to THOISE was scheduled for the day since weather God had smiled on our predicament. At about 6.30 am sharp the mini-bus of N-Area was honking wild for the officers to mount and be ready to depart for the tarmac of the airbase of Chandigarh where the waiting AN-32 transport aircraft of the IAF were whirring with their engines to take us over the Khardung la pass for our destination.
At the tarmac I met our old man who had come in a separate vehicle ready for departure too. He seemed to be bit off colour with a look of tiredness on his face. On my asking he replied rather sheepishly that he was feeling bit puckish since he had a late-night with his course mate. I requested him to go a bit distance and do a forced vomiting, since that would take care of his bloated feeling and then have a cup of tea which I was carrying with me in my small thermos.He did exactly like I told him and boarded with me all the same. We taxied up and within no time were soaring into the blue sky headed due north. Few minutes into the flight, may be 25 odd minutes when the old man who was sitting next to me complained of uneasiness with his face looking taut with tension.
I was taken aback, told him to relax and took off his Siachen jacket, loosened his shoe laces. All this while an air force flight lieutenant who was seated opposite to us was watching us intently. He came up to me and asked as to what was the problem. On my narrating the short version, he quickly went back to his seat took out one tablet of sorbitrate from his bag and kept under the tongue of the CO. Later on checking the pulse of the old man he told me that his pulse was racing but not to worry. It turned out later that the officer was a medical officer going to Thoise in our sortie. Any way the boss went to sleep thereafter and woke up only when the undercarriages of the AN-32 opened up with a thud signaling our arrival shortly at Thoise after about one hour.
De-boarding at the high altitude forward air base of Thoise with its cool climes, the both of us walked to our waiting gypsy. The CO profusely thanked me for my support in the flight and also promised that he would not touch liquor again before taking off in an aircraft; for which I just kept a studied silence. We both went to the transit camp of Thoise for our overnight stay from where the next day early morning we were supposed to go to the base camp. In the evening I heard my door bell rung with a Pinja standing in attention next to the door. On my asking his reason for coming, he told me that the boss was calling me. I got ready to go and within few minutes I was face to face with the old man in his room ready with two glasses of brandy ready with hot water.
Here again I was stumped by the ‘DEVIL MAY CARE ATTITUDE’ of the boss who till few hours back was struggling with his life in the aircraft. Call it may as an act of stupidity, or false sense of bravado or tempting too much of fate I was enamored though with the personality of our old man who led from the front in all matters. Now what do you call such an individual? In which category does he fall into — An optimist, a pessimist, trusting or envious? I leave it to the judgment of the readers. But for me it was an apt induction into the highest battlefield of the world with some very exciting times ahead prompting me to write this piece with an apt title as ‘Tempting fate’ AT TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND FEET..
(The writer is a retired army officer and can be approached on his email: slalotra [email protected])
