AFVOA Newsletter 03 of 2020

Section 4 – War Diary CV 2 No. 03 / 2020 Page 59 of 167 We were woken up many times at night by the wailing siren and had to rush to our refuge. Being just about 40 km from the border, Pathankot was a very strategic forward airbase and bore the major brunt of Pakistani bombs. What touched our hearts in those war days was the commitment and dedication of the old “Sardar Tauji” – our milkman who came without a break to supply milk. War or no war, he never missed his time schedule. He was the first one to let us know about a whole family being wiped out in the civil area. Unfortunately, the Pakistani bombs came right into the trench and exploded. What a pity. We hardly saw father during the war but mother took on the role of both. She was kind and loving yet firm and strict. It felt safe and reassuring to hear father over the phone, at least once a day. Mum would tell us about the bravery of our men in uniform about putting “Motherland above self”, about being duty conscious – just like our “Doodhwala Tauji”. Even in the freezing cold of the trench she would boost up our morale and tell us stories from mythology. At times we would play a game- names of the countries, currency, rivers etc. I think by the end of the war our General Knowledge had also improved by leaps and bounds. One day my brother & me were returning from the Station Sick quarters. We heard the siren—and before we could react, saw two Pakistani planes right above us, coming down for a swoop attack. We didn’t panic, but lay flat on the ground, hands covering our ears and teeth clenched tight with chin resting on our arms. It is no exaggeration that just as we saw the enemy pilot so clearly, he too saw us – could have strafed us for sure – but let us be. After the all clear siren we got up and ran home to big bear hugs from mother who listened to our “Tale of the close encounter” and said she was proud of us. A few days into the war, my father came home with a worried look on his face. After duly having a tete-a-tete with mother, he asked us to promptly pack our bags for a fortnight’s trip to Delhi. We weren’t too happy with this proposition but had no choice. We were put on the train before dusk and waited patiently for its onward move to Delhi. In the meantime, we could hear the enemy plane over us and our anti-aircraft guns booming close to the Chakki River Bridge – a very vital link which the enemy wanted to destroy to cut off the rail link beyond. As the train moved out little did we realise what was in store for us. Enemy planes attacked the train and the bridge but missed the target. We all escaped and the train chugged out of the bridge. We had a providential escape. We were grateful to God for saving the family members of the station, the brave officers and men, except a few pilots whom we lost over enemy territory. Few days after the war, we all returned to the station. Subsequently when we went around, we found the station intact. Pakistani planes could not inflict any damage except the first attack aimed at damaging the runway but they got the No.2 officers Mess instead.