My ballad AT NAMKA CHU highlights the Sino-Indian Himalayan battle at the Namka Chu river valley in October 1962.  The hapless underequipped Indian 7th Infantry Brigade deployed in tactically indefensible locations, was ordered to frontally attack the numerically superior Chinese Army dominating the heights of Thagla Ridge. The soldiers left to fend for themselves fought heroically to the bitter end. Ian Cardozo’s lyrics recall his friend Capt. Mahabir Singh Mangat of 2 Rajput, killed in action at Namka Chu. 

Credits:

AT NAMKA CHU (ballad)

Track Artist, Vocals, Acoustic Guitar: Vanita Singh

Composer: Vanita Singh

Arranger: Vanita Singh

Lyricist: Ian Cardozo

Producer: Vanita Singh

THE NAMKA CHU MARCH (instrumental)

Dedicated to the men of the 7th Brigade—bravest of the brave--who fought and died at Namka Chu, October 1962; to those who suffered for months in Chinese PoW camps in Tibet thereafter; to those who were even humiliated for no fault of theirs; and to their grieving families.

It was one of the saddest ironies of this War that Brigadier John Parashuram Dalvi’s efforts to honour the memory of the soldiers under his command by trying to get them the recognition they richly deserved were cavalierly dismissed.

Credits:

Track Artist, Keyboard: Vanita Singh

Composer: Vanita Singh

Arranger: Vanita Singh

Producer: Vanita Singh

The commemorative ballad “At Namka Chu” recalls the Himalayan battleground in October 1962 at the Namka Chu river valley on the Indian side of the Sino-Indian border, a great wall of mountains rising almost vertically immediately behind the roaring river to the Thagla Massif.  Lulled into a false sense of security, completely ignoring, even downplaying the nature and scope of an impending massive Chinese attack, resulted in a non-existent Indian task force being scrambled into operations at short notice in a last desperate gamble. 

Unacclimatised troops of the Indian army were rushed to the Thagla Ridge, where a well-trained, numerically superior Chinese army equipped with modern weapons dominated the Indian positions in the valley below.  The Indian troops, in summer uniforms and canvas shoes, located in tactically indefensible locations with poor approaches, supplied only with pouch ammunition, no reserves, no supporting fire, and without rations, were peremptorily ordered to attack the Chinese Army, while being left to fend for themselves.

The men were already exhausted by days of marching in bitter cold over high altitudes in gale-force wind and mist on slippery paths as well as steep gradients through slush, mountain trails and incessant, heavy monsoonal rain, besides having to navigate extremely treacherous steep descents with slippery, lichen-covered boulders over precipitous passes and thick patches of jungle. 

 At 5 a.m. on the morning of October 20th, 1962, the two Very lights fired by the Chinese were followed by a cannonade of over 150 guns and heavy mortars on the Thagla forward slopes. Thereafter, Indian positions were heavily bombarded and shelled some 1,000 yards from the riverbank; 76 mm guns fed and fired automatically, along with 12 mm mortars, the salvos crashing overhead. Within minutes of the opening Chinese salvoes, the Indian mortar platoon was wiped out swiftly and completely.  

The Brigade HQ at Tawang, some five days march from the scene of intrusion at Thagla Ridge, “was shelled from 5 a.m. to 8:30 a.m., mostly with heavy mortars with a high proportion of tree bursts—the deadliest force of bombardment to endure”. 

Encircled by the Chinese in one large and two small pincer movements, the outnumbered thousand-odd Indian soldiers put up a spirited fight to forestall over 20,000 Chinese to the bitter end, the Namka Chu battleground soon a sprawling mosaic of humans locked in mortal combat. Within just three hours, the flower of the Indian forces had been hacked to pieces without a chance to do anything but die like men. 

Examples of group and virtually epic individual heroism nevertheless abounded with men charging the attacking wave with the bayonet, fighting with élan and determination. Courage and tenacity distinguished the Indian soldier, holding fast against three waves of Chinese attacks, suffering heavy casualties, the enemy calling for heavier artillery concentrations before launching the fourth attack.  Rallied fighting men in small sub-units, led by officers and JCOs, continued to resist even when isolated and encircled. The story of gallantry was re-enacted in many platoons and companies, officers leading and inspiring their men to rise to superhuman height to repel the fourth attack, the brave soldiers clinging doggedly to their positions till every man was killed beyond the call of duty.

Brigadier J.P. Dalvi Commander of the besieged 7 Infantry Brigade—the only such Indian armed formation within hundreds of miles—agonizingly witnessed his helpless men pinned down to the Namka Chu Valley and the destruction of his brigade on 20th October 1962, for an unrealistic, unattainable objective. In addition, many died from exposure to the severe cold, and a large number from merciless hunger. 

While endeavouring to rein the remnants of his command, Brig Dalvi himself was captured on 22nd October 1962. Incarceration ensued in a Prisoner-of-War camp in Tibet before being repatriated from China in 1963. The general outline of the Brigadier’s account, a “curtain-raiser to the Sino-Indian War of 1962” was conceived during his months in prison-- an unvarnished tale leaving his fellow Indian citizens to hear the truth from the only senior officer who was there throughout “the Himalayan Blunder”, indubitably an officer and gentleman to the core. 

The death struggle of 7 Infantry Brigade-- a tale of horrific suffering in the battle in the desolate Thagla Ridge area, is both tribute and homage to the devotion to duty of these unflinching Indian soldiers. 

Some questions persist, though it may well be that for arm-chair strategists and policy-framers at Delhi these had perhaps not seemed pressing issues:

1. Does the story of the ill-fated Thagla battle not highlight the squandered heroism of India’s simple, tough peasantry, among them “the Gorkhas, the Rajputs, the Sikhs, the Dogras, the Bengalis, the Mussalmans of the Grenadiers, the Ahirs, the South Indian Signallers, and all the others from the four corners of India—men who had nothing to sustain them but their regimental pride and traditions”, doing what they had done because they were soldiers,  for no man can do more than give his life for his country”.

2. Out of wireless touch, were these outgunned soldiers, obedient and disciplined, with their devotion to duty, hardiness and cheerfulness despite the hardships to be encountered and surmounted, expendable?

3. Is it not true that “[t]he Indian soldier asks for very little and does not worry if this little is not provided”?  Have these men received due recognition? Have they been denied the homage that is their due? Have Indian soldiers been expendable all along? Have border incidents with China and Pakistan remained an occupational hazard for our soldiers?

4. Did not the almost surreal naïve complacency and grandiloquence of those taking the resolute and irrevocable decision to evict the Chinese from our territory— the Chinese had first intruded at Thagla on 8th September-- invite retaliation all along the Sino-Indian border, exacting a heavy toll in lives?

5. Do faulty policies seek alibis and scapegoats over accepting responsibility for a failed policy that resulted largely in the tragic events from 8th September to 20th October 1962?  Could 1,000 odd men have staved off 20,000 Chinese?

                                                        *

The Chinese attack occurred simultaneously in sectors Tawang and Walong in NEFA, and Ladakh).

Losing many good men under his command, and conscientiously seeking recognition for their conspicuous bravery, the 7th Infantry Brigade Commander J.P Dalvi, repatriated from captivity in a Prisoner of War Camp in Tibet, was cavalierly told: “Brigadier, you should know, losing armies don’t get medals!”.  

And what of those who found themselves alive, scattered in the jungle, experiencing the radical change in roles from combatant to the ignominy of being a captive? It is important to bear in mind that at the time of capture, the prisoner of war (PoW) must gain quick emotional control, deal with fears of death, and attend to the tasks necessary for survival. Expectations of rescue fade quickly after removal from the capture site. The sense of disbelief results from the rapid sequence of events contributing to the radical role change. 

The prisoner of war experience, often one of the most traumatic situations in human experience, has multiple stressors of the PoW environment, often terrifying and inhuman, and always filled with the unexpected. Given the lack of recognition for their suffering, learning about this experience firsthand from those who survived the ordeal of being lost, captured, and imprisoned by the enemy, conduces to a better understanding of their plight. Nothing is known about the group that never returned. 

For servicemen detained in captivity, the initial “breaking-in” and transportation to the final confinement site, forces the PoW to adapt to a lower plane of existence, making him aware of losing his usual supports and prestige.  Feelings of longing for freedom, wishes for sympathy, dissociation, memories of home are inevitable during this phase.  

It is important to remember that repatriated servicemen are the survivors.  A select group who have courageously buffered stress during demoralizing captivity, imprisonment and confinement through the will to live, military experience and bearing, maintaining their self-respect, morale, hope, and physical fitness for months, notwithstanding demeaning psychological and physical maltreatment including torture, threats, solitary confinement and interrogation, nutritional deprivation. Loyalty to country through remembering their heritage, focusing on their patriotic duty to resist, and sustaining hope of returning with a feeling of having been worthy of their families mark these men. 

The stresses on the families of the PoWs are also manifold, both during captivity and after repatriation.  The family and the military community are critical elements in the recovery, re-adaptation, and reintegration of the PoW.  He may, in addition, also be faced with the outside world’s dismissive view of his behaviour and situation--a changed world he becomes cognizant of, one in which he suffers the heaped indignity and insensitivity of the charge of being “brainwashed” from his own compatriots and colleagues. Subjected thereafter to ‘filtration’, interrogations, and discrimination by the bureaucracy, these men continue to regarded as the “awkward lot” best consigned to a collusive tight-lipped silence.

While history is not made of witness accounts and on their basis, without them it would not be complete nor entirely true. In his book The Himalayan Blunder, Brigadier Dalvi records and illuminates the prelude to the Battle of Namka Chu as well, not leaving it to remain a subject of mere memory or oral statement.

THE SPOKESMAN is about the spin frequently put on news stories beamed across the globe. The honed art of spin makes it an even more lethal weapon than boots on the ground in conflict zones. Through a variety of techniques adopted by masters of spin, fiction overtakes reality, becoming a toxic opiate for the unquestioning masses.

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