Wednesday, August 1, 2012

General J.J. Singh plays it safe in his memoirs

By Ghazala Wahab



General Joginder Jaswant Singh has been bit of an oddity in the Indian military. While most Indian soldiers, irrespective of rank and service have been chary of the media, treating it as a necessary evil to be endured when completely unavoidable, Gen. JJ Singh, affectionately called Gen. JJ, has always courted the media fearlessly and with great enthusiasm.

As Chief of Army Staff (COAS) [and before that, as General Officer Commanding-in-Chief (GOC-in-C), Western Command], he seemed to believe that publicity was publicity — it was neither good nor bad. This is the reason that when even ordinary officers went into spasms of anxiety at the whiff of a ‘negative’ report, Gen. Singh remained unflappable. He had a penchant for issuing statements at the drop of the hat and making headlines every alternate day. That led the grand old man of Indian journalism Khushwant Singh, to write that if he didn’t stop talking, he’d end up being a source of more ‘Sardar’ jokes. So rattled was the government of the day (used to mute chiefs), by his garrulousness, that apparently, he was asked to talk less with the media.

Gen. Singh might have tried to curb his instincts. But how do you hide a flamboyant personality? When he wasn’t speaking to the press, he was being photographed at glamorous events like polo tournaments, with Page 3 regulars. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say he fashioned himself as something of a star. Someone who’d walk into a room and immediately draw attention to himself, whether intentionally or unintentionally. But there was never any doubt that he wanted to be projected in a certain way. Within a couple of weeks of taking over as COAS, this correspondent was granted an interview with the General and his wife, becoming the first guest of the first couple in the Army House. Not only did they speak extensively about themselves, about Gen. Singh’s achievements, his war wound (in Kashmir), about adopting children and so on — post interview, his office even supplied family photographs for the story. It appeared in the March 2005 issue of FORCE. He was a refreshing change from his predecessor, who did away with even the traditional Army Day press conferences during his tenure. But then, there is something called too much of a good thing. Some would say Gen. JJ Singh spoke enough for his successors too — they all remained squeamish about the media. Except Gen. V.K. Singh, who went ballistic towards the end of his tenure.

Gen. Singh is currently the Governor of Arunachal Pradesh. For someone as irrepressible as him, it was only to be expected that he’d write his memoirs and present them with the same panache he presented himself. His autobiography A Soldier’s General, published by Harper Collins, has already been released three-times over. It was released in Delhi on June 9, by the Marshal of the Indian Air Force Arjan Singh; in Mumbai on June 23, by the Governor of Maharashtra K. Sankaranarayanan; and in London on June 25, by a British member of parliament Paul Uppal and the Shaheed Nanak Singh Foundation.

Talking to the press at one of the release functions, Gen. JJ Singh said that his book was simply a narration of his life, of events as he saw them. “There is nothing controversial in my book,” he insisted with a broad smile. Weeks before the book was released, one of his former aides cautioned that one should not expect too much from the book. “It is light-reading,” he said, suggesting it would neither be contemporary history nor a quick guide to national security.

Indeed, the autobiography is an accurate reflection of Gen. Singh’s personality, putting him not only at the centre of the book but at the centre of every event in it. In that respect, both the book and the author have been extremely faithful to one another. It’s another matter that Khushwant Singh, whose advice Gen. Singh sought before embarking on this literary journey — recently wrote that he’d advised the former chief not to praise himself too much. People get put-off by that, he’d said. But the General obviously didn’t take that hint.

Gen. JJ has an explanation for that. Addressing guests at the book release function in London (a video of the speech has been uploaded on YouTube), he said that he laboured hard over the format of the book. He realised that if he was to tell his story, it would automatically read like self-praise. But there was to be no escape. “Maybe, this is the reason why so many army chiefs do not write their autobiography,” he told the audience.

If so many Indian military chiefs have desisted from writing their autobiographies, then the reason has to be more than just reluctance to praise oneself. To my mind, there are three reasons why an autobiography should be written. One, the author is such a brilliant writer that he/she has the capability of turning even the mundane into a work of literature. Two, the author’s life has been unusually eventful, he/she has been witness to history in the making and has something useful to say. Three, the author has had a very close/personal association with the powerful and the rich (mainly the former) to enable him/her to write a kiss-and-tell tale. These three conditions eliminate the need for putting oneself at the centre of the book, even if it is an autobiography because one would write as a spectator, seeing things as they happened.

While reading Gen Singh’s autobiography, I wondered if it is really difficult not to succumb to the temptation of writing things like ‘I did this’. And ‘I told so and so that...’ The immediate reference that occurred to me, was of his predecessor four times removed, Gen. Shankar Roychowdhury, COAS from November 1994 to September 1997. His autobiography, called Officially at Peace, was published by the Penguin imprint Viking, in 2002. The book starts with Gen. Roychowdhury becoming the chief. He divides chapters on the basis of issues as he saw them. And not in a chronologically linear manner. Critical of the political leadership (he worked with four prime ministers starting with Narasimha Rao and finishing with I.K. Gujral) — which he always found indifferent to national security issues, Gen. Roychowdhury appears in the book primarily as a narrator. There are hardly any personal details, because he assumed readers wouldn’t really be interested. His autobiography reads like contemporary history, putting in perspective the Indian Army’s state in the mid-Nineties, its roles across theatres, state of war-preparedness (or lack of it) and the blanket blindness over nuclear issues. He narrates in great detail his meetings with various ministers, politicians and bureaucrats at various levels. His recounting of his first meeting with the minister of state for defence (whom he does not name) upon becoming the chief and his subsequent meeting with finance minister Manmohan Singh, pleading for more funds for army modernization, are both funny and eye-opening. Ironically, Gen. Roychowdhury is not a highly decorated officer. Like Gen. K Sundarji, he only has a Param Vishisht Seva Medal (PVSM) to his name. But this is not a review of his book.

Gen. JJ seems to have been hemmed-in by two self-imposed restrictions. First, he starts with the conviction that his has been an unusually remarkable life. For him, the fact that he is a third generation military officer and the first Sikh to become the chief, itself makes for an interesting story. Hence, this narration takes care of the first section, without any attempts at giving a perspective to the prevailing circumstances then. Or insights into the politico-social conditions. Or why being the first Army chief of Sikh descent, was a big deal. While Operation Blue Star finds no mention, the 1984 anti-Sikh carnage is dismissed in a paragraph — saying no violence took place in Jammu where he was posted.

Given that his grandfather was a sepoy in the British Indian Army (deployed in France during World War I) and his father was commissioned in the Royal Indian Army Service Corps before Independence, a more thoughtful narration could have added so much more depth to the book. His grandfather was injured in France and returned home because of his debility. Did it ever cross his mind whose war he was fighting, or for what reason? How did the growing pitch of the freedom struggle affect him? Were he and/or the people in his village, aware of it or not? Did he have any patriotic dilemma regarding loyalties? His father joined the service in 1943, at a time when the freedom struggle had reached a crescendo. What were his reasons for the choice he made? The idea is not to judge them for their choices. But to understand a narrative different from what one reads in history books.

Later on, the partition of the Indian military in 1947, after which his father came to the Indian Army, deserved more than platitudes like: ‘It was a time of great stress for my parents... The effect was traumatic as well as tragic in many cases, particularly for those soldiers and their families who happened to suddenly find themselves living in the wrong country.’ Taking the easy way out, he fills his narration by quoting from different sources, often fictional. For example, to give the readers a sense of India’s Partition, he quotes from Khushwant Singh’s ‘Train to Pakistan’. Or to establish that his ancestors probably (he is not certain) were Aryans, he quotes from a glossary on tribes and castes of Punjab and the Frontier provinces. To think that he had such rich ready-made material at home, (both his parents and his wife’s parents migrated from what became Pakistan) — borrowing narrative is nothing but intellectual laziness.

The second restriction is his choice of not writing anything ‘controversial’. As a result, he says nothing at all in his book. This is a huge let-down, considering he served in important positions during crucial times. During the Kargil conflict, he was Additional Director General of Military Operations (ADGMO). During Operation Parakram (when India nearly went to war with Pakistan on two occasions) he was Commander 1 Corps, one of the Indian Army’s strike corps. He subsequently went on to command the Indian Army’s prestigious Western Command, before becoming Army Chief. Yet, he writes about all these events quoting from press reports. As if he wasn’t privy to anything himself. His chapter on becoming Chairman, Chiefs of Staff Committee (CSC) takes the cake. To describe India’s nuclear weapons’ capabilities across domains, he quotes from Wikipedia!

All this begs two questions. Who exactly did he write this book for? Is it for young soldiers, scholars of defence, general readers or merely for his extended family? Because there is nothing in the book, that is not already available in the public domain. Even details about incidents like the time he was shot near the Line of Control (LOC), or was nearly ambushed in Baramullah, frequently appeared in the media when he was the chief. Even I have written about these incidents way back in 2005!

Perhaps, nobody told Gen. JJ that writing a book isn’t like making a statement to the press. Unlike a media report, a book has a shelf life, hopefully longer than the life of the author. A book remains a reference point for the future; even those who didn’t know you learn about you through your book. Hence, I believe an autobiography should be very carefully thought through. Not only in terms of what you reveal in it but also what kind of image you convey through it. ‘Controversial’ is hardly the adjective one would use for an autobiography — it can be candid or cagey.

This raises the second question. What exactly is the purpose of this book? It is true that to some extent that the very act of writing an autobiography, smacks of self-aggrandisement. But surely it is up to the author to determine how high he wants to raise the bar. Whether he wants to gloss over crucial issues or take them head on. Instead of filling up the chapter on Kargil (during which he was the ADGMO) with press reports, he could have pointed out weaknesses in the Indian side, that led to the conflict. He could have discussed if it was a politico-military disconnect, that led to a severe loss of lives in the early days. Is it possible that Mumbai’s 26/11 happened because very few lessons were learnt from Kargil?

What feathers would Gen. JJ Singh have ruffled, if he had addressed allegations of human rights violations against the Indian Army? Instead of dismissing them by saying that ‘no violations occurred during my tenure.’ After all, the fact that violations have happened, is not a state secret. On the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA), he says we should be open to the idea of incorporating humane modifications in it. But he stops short of suggesting what these could be.

And where he does dwell upon the much-bandied concept of the iron fist and the velvet glove, he draws parallels between the Indian Army’s operations in Kashmir and the United States/ North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Is he by any chance suggesting that Kashmir is our Afghanistan? Is the Indian Army, God forbid, an occupation force in Kashmir?

His penchant for drawing parallels, leads him to draw one between himself and Pakistan’s Army Chief and subsequently its President, Gen. Pervez Musharraf. The chapter Musharraf and I is the most embarrassing one in the book. The sad part is, it was completely avoidable — both Gen. JJ Singh and his tenure as chief, had nothing to do with Musharraf at all. The two didn’t even meet. Comparisons can never be fair. I would have been horrified if somebody was to compare me with anyone in the world. And here, Gen. JJ sets himself up for a comparison, concluding that he was a better chief. Musharraf’s tenure as Pakistan Army chief will be judged by his army. His tenure as President of that country (during which, in addition to getting Major Non-Nato Ally status for his country, he got the US to give nearly USD 20 billion as aid) would be judged by his country. Forget Gen. JJ, Musharraf in his autobiography does not refer to any Indian military officer; he only talks of the heads of the state. Even if Gen. Singh believed there were favourable grounds for comparison, this alone should have dissuaded him.

The only place where Gen. JJ Singh sparkles and goes beyond his chosen circle of comfort, is writing about Arunachal Pradesh, where he is currently Governor. Perhaps, it is his fondness for the place and its people. Or simply nostalgia (he served here as a young officer). But he writes about his tenure there with affection and sincerity. Had he marshalled this sentiment throughout the book, it would certainly have been a collector’s item.

A Soldier’s General: An Autobiography

General J.J. Singh

HarperCollins, Pg 356, Rs 799

The Meadow suggests the unthinkable

By Ghazala Wahab

In the end it didn’t matter who killed the five foreign trekkers in the Kashmiri paradise. What matters is that those who could have saved them chose not to do so for reasons that can only be termed diabolical. This is the single most shocking conclusion of the 450-page, painstakingly researched and meticulously detailed book, The Meadow, written by Adrian Levy and Cathy Scott-Clark.
In the summer of 1995, six foreign trekkers — two Americans (Don Hutchings and John Childs), two British (Keith Mangan and Paul Wells), one Norwegian (Hans Christian Ostro) and one German (Dirk Hasert) — were kidnapped near Pahalgam in Kashmir in a span of a few days by an unknown group called al Faran. For a few days, the story made the front pages of the Indian newspapers speculating the identity of al Faran but also because within four days of the kidnapping, John Childs escaped. Thereafter, the kidnapping once again made news when Han Christian’s mutilated body was discovered more than a month later. Then, it fell off the radar. Sporadic reports appeared once in a while about the kidnappers’ demands till those too dried up and the four men disappeared from public memory.
I remembered the kidnapping incident when I started reporting on Kashmir nearly nine years ago. But I could not recall what eventually happened to Don Hutchings, Keith Mangan, Paul Wells and Dirk Hasert. During one of my visits to the state a few years ago, I asked a few people, journalists included, about the aftermath of the kidnapping. Were the hostages killed? Were they released in a secret compact? The answer was a shrug. People had no memory of what had happened to them. I was not the only one who had forgotten what had happened to them. It seems, except for the families of the four hostages, the world had forgotten too. ‘Until Now’, write the authors in the prologue.
Adrian Levy and Cathy Scott-Clark have not merely chronicled the kidnapping; they have attempted to tell the story of six unfortunate souls caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, along with that of their families. Woven from intensive interactions with the family members and also from the notes most of them wrote before and during their confinement, The Meadow — racy, though sometimes overwritten — builds up to the kidnapping almost like a thriller, introducing each character gradually before arriving at the denouement through multiple sources. Reading the book, one gets to know each hostage intimately, developing a fondness for them, fervently hoping for a happy ending.
But in the Kashmir of the Nineties, there were no happy endings. The happiest were the tragic endings because at least there was closure; the surviving members could mourn and bury their dead. For the rest, as for the family members of the four, life was reduced to following up with indifferent officials about the fate of the loved ones; with hope sometimes, but mostly with despair.
At some point during the incarceration, the hostages lived in Warwan Valley, east of which was Kargil. On clear days, they could see the majestic Nun-Kun massif, which are the highest Himalayan peaks in Kashmir. The shorter of the two peaks, Kun, means ‘what is’, while Nun means ‘what appears to be’. Ironically, the story of the four, as told by Levy and Scott-Clark constantly hovers between what was and what appeared to be.
Even by most Indian accounts, Nineties were the darkest Kashmiri years. Nothing was in black and white, everything being the colour of blood. Taken completely by surprise, by the uprising of 1989 and the rapid support it found among the people, the Indian government was desperate to convey to the world that what was happening in Kashmir was not an insurgency but acts of terrorism perpetuated by Pakistan. In its desperation and also to wrest physical control over the territories where militants (both Kashmiris and foreign) had a free run, accountability and humanity were given a go by. The orders from the top were to get rid of the militants/terrorists and their supporters by all means. Since the desperate government had given a long rope to the security forces, they in turn outsourced the dirty job to mercenaries (renegade militants) with one brief: Each kill will be rewarded in hard cash. In just a few years, Kashmir was in the grip of a different kind of terror unleashed by the renegades, hordes of whom built palatial houses for themselves on the bodies of those they had killed for money. It was immaterial who the dead were, as long as they were dead.
It was in these times that the legend of the unknown gunmen first came about and persists even today. The legend was useful. It hid in its fold the ugliness of both the law-breakers and the law-enforcers because in the Nineties there was a thin line dividing the two. The only difference between them was the flag under which they operated. Countless Kashmiris have been killed by unknown gunmen and the legend continues.
In this dangerous land, the trekkers arrived in the summer of 1995. There were no advisories to refer to, and the desperate tourism office of Srinagar painted a rosy picture. All trekkers were told at different times that trekking in and around Pahalgam was perfectly safe. Kicked about the ensuing adventure, the tourists ignored the fortified valley and the overwhelming presence of the security forces. The landscape was too beautiful, the people too hospitable; till they were betrayed by both.
Al Faran was less of a group and more of an operation mounted by ISI’s Harkat-ul-Ansar to secure the release of Masood Azhar and his compatriots lodged in Indian prisons. According to the book, the middle-level Kashmir police officers were able to figure that out within a few days of the kidnapping. Without any directions from the government of India, as J&K was under the Governor’s rule then, J&K police crime branch under inspector general Rajinder Tickoo ordered the creation of a secret investigative team, Squad, to figure out the kidnappings. A superintendent of police, Mushtaq Mohammed Sadiq headed the Squad. However, within weeks of the Squad getting to work, Tickoo found himself in the middle of the kidnapping fracas in the most unexpected manner. Summoned by the military advisor to the Governor, Lt Gen. D.D. Saklani (retd), Tickoo was asked to receive a phone call made by the kidnappers’ source. Tickoo’s brief was to talk and give away nothing.
Meanwhile, the Squad moved very fast, spreading its investigators among the local population, even infiltrating the Gujjar villages where the hostages were being held. Its reports to the headquarters gave painstaking details about the location and the conditions of the hostages, as well as the number of kidnappers, their duty hours, their relations with the victims and so on. The Squad was not the only one keeping a track of the kidnap party. Military reconnaissance helicopters also frequently hovered over the area where the hostages were kept for several months. The pictures it took were so close and sharp that even beads of perspiration could be seen on the faces of the hostages playing volley ball with their captors.
Yet, all requests of the Squad for a rescue operation went unanswered. Tickoo was also directed by Gen. Saklani to drag the conversation as the government of India was in no mood for negotiations. ‘There’d be no prisoner exchange,’ Saklani had made it clear. With no room for manoeuvre and no intentions of mounting a rescue operation, people like Tickoo and Sadiq improvised as they went along trying to ensure that the hostages were not harmed.
Since nobody in the government has spoken to the writers, except retired spooks who ran the unintelligible government of India policy in Kashmir, Chevy and Scott-Clark can only guesstimate what was going on. The first priority of Prime Minister Narasimha Rao’s government was the safe conclusion of the Amarnath Pilgrimage. The entire security machinery, from Rashtriya Rifles to the state police and the Paramilitary were deployed along the pilgrimage route. Despite this, the fact that the foreigners were kidnapped from the same location just days before the pilgrimage baffles the writers. Once John Childs escaped after spending four days in captivity, the kidnappers returned to the valley where trekkers were camped and were able to kidnap two more in broad daylight. The impregnable security cordon neither deterred them nor prevented the kidnapping.
Not surprisingly, the writers wonder if the kidnapping was allowed to happen, a belief reinforced by the fact that every time Tickoo reached some kind of a breakthrough in his secret negotiations with the kidnappers, eventually coming to the point when the kidnappers were ready to trade the hostages for a mere Rs 10 million, the contents of the negotiations were leaked to the press and the talks collapsed. In frustration, Tickoo went away on a long leave.
Desperate, the kidnappers approached Syed Ali Shah Geelani-headed Hurriyat Conference to broker a face-saving solution. He refused to get involved. As winters approached, the kidnappers’ desperation increased and they finally abandoned the hostages in December and fled. By Squad’s account, the hostages were handed over to the renegades (who reported to the local RR unit) and the notorious STF combine. As the kidnappers made their way out of the valley where the hostages were left behind, all of them were killed by the RR. Still, no effort was made to rescue the hostages.
While the Squad’ sources informed it that the hostages were killed on December 24 by the renegades/STF on the orders of their handlers (was it the RR, IB or both, the question is left tantalisingly dangling in the air) in the spring of 1996, the army produced a man called Naseer who it claimed was one of the handlers of the kidnappers. The man confessed that the hostages were killed by the kidnappers in the second week of December and even claimed to know where they were buried. A grand expedition was launched in which diplomats from the four Missions were invited apart from many others, to locate the graves but to no avail. Finally, the search was abandoned. In the following weeks the state police and the newly-elected state government discredited Naseer. The families were again told that hostages were alive. And that’s where the tale hangs.
Were the foreigners treated as sacrificial lambs in the unholy game of one-upmanship? Did the Indian government allow the killing of the foreigners to put an international spotlight on Pakistan as the sponsor of terrorism in India? After all, India has always traded prisoners for hostages. It did so before this incident, it did so after this incident and continues to do so even now. Like the unknown gunmen, these questions are also part of the murkiness that rules in Kashmir; the answers being too gross to countenance.
There are two ways a book like The Meadow can be treated: junk it as far-fetched, or read it to reflect on how we allowed short-term politics to brutalise and dehumanise our people and those who were meant to protect them. If a uniformed person does not flinch killing an innocent, he is a danger even to the institution he represents.
The Meadow
Adrian Levy and Cathy Scott-Clark
Penguin Books
Rs 499, Pg 490

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Can Siachen Spring the Next Surprise?

Pakistan Army Chief Gen. Kayani during a Pak-China military exercise

As Siachen war enters its 29th year, FORCE looks at what it means today
By Pravin Sawhney and Ghazala Wahab

After the 1999 Kargil war and the 26/11 terrorist attacks in Mumbai, can Siachen spring the next surprise for India? Sounds impossible, all regular analysts would say. The arguments to back this assertion would be that the 28-year-old conflict has stabilised operationally, with little hope of either side making tactical gains. Both sides are keen on demilitarisation, which would be a powerful confidence building measure towards the Kashmir resolution. Both sides continue to lose troops to weather than combat which has ceased since 26 November 2003. The only thing that is preventing the pullback of mutual troops is the trust deficit between India and Pakistan. A move-back from this futile battlefield would provide a gigantic fillip to the lack of mutual trust.
While all these assertions are sensible, what if a new factor with power to change the existing geo-political and military dynamics gets introduced into this stabilised scenario? It is well known that the Pakistan Army (PA) is not reconciled to having lost the Siachen race to the Indian Army (IA). General Pervez Musharraf has confirmed that the 1999 Kargil war was a response to India’s Siachen occupation. More recently, on April 7, Pakistan’s 124 soldiers and 14 civilians were buried alive under an avalanche while sleeping in their bunkers at Gayari, the battalion headquarters of 6 Northern Light Infantry. Pakistani leaders of all hue were quick to say that Siachen be dimilitarised and the conflict end. Former Premier Nawaz Sharif went furthest saying that Pakistan should withdraw its troops even if India was not agreeable to a mutual pullback. Sensing the sombre moment, Pakistan chief of army staff (COAS), General Ashfaq Pervez Kayani muttered homilies, which Pakistan foreign office was quick to say should not be taken seriously.
The powerful factor to change the existing realities could be China. Numerous media reports in 2011 have written about 10,000 Chinese in Northern Areas (NA), purportedly for building of infrastructure there. It has also been reported that the 1978-built Karakoram Highway which connects Chinese Xinjiang with NA over the 19,000 feet Khunjerab pass well north of the Siachen glacier is to be developed into an all-weather road with Chinese help. What should alarm India, however, is something else. The Indian COAS, General V.K. Singh in 2011 spoke about the presence of nearly 3,500 Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) personnel in Pakistan Occupied Kashmir (POK). As an aside, when FORCE recently asked a senior general responsible for Kashmir theatre what could be the implication of this development, he said that his dual responsibility was counter-insurgency and anti-infiltration across the Line of Control. People in Delhi should worry about Chinese troops in POK, he added. If anything, his remarks betrayed a lack of understanding of the influence of geo-politics (geography’s influence on relations between nations) on military dynamics, which has propelled power-play in this region since centuries.
Now juxtapose the presence of PLA in POK with two related issues. On the eve of Chinese Prime Minister Wen Jiabao’s visit to India in December 2010, Chinese foreign office threw a bombshell by referring to the disputed border (Line of Actual Control) between the two countries as mere 2,000km long from the known 4,056km. The Chinese new border with India includes 554km of the Middle Sector, 160km of Sikkim (this is being dealt outside the preview of border talks), and 1,226km (with 90,000sq km area) of Eastern Sector (Arunachal Pradesh). China no longer recognises a border with India in Kashmir (called the Western Sector). The astonishing bit is that India, given the history of the region, has not raised questions on how China unilaterally slashed the disputed border by half. By implication, China has become a stake-holder in Kashmir, and given its relations with Pakistan, may have no hesitation in supporting it openly on its Kashmir policy.
The other news is about Pakistan having leased portions of Northern Areas (NA) to China. This was reported in the Pakistani media without official confirmation or denial. As there is no smoke without fire, this could well be true. In March 1963, when Pakistan illegally ceded 5,100km of Shaksgam valley (abutting Siachen in Ladakh) to China, it quickly became public knowledge as both countries were still building mutual relations against a perceived common adversary. Today, given the cemented partnership between the two, what is the need for either to talk about NA’s status?  
Given these realities, what stops China from throwing its weight behind the Pakistan Army (PA) to enforce the NJ9842-Karakoram line with national security implications for India? In a military pincer, Indian positions on the Saltoro Ridge and the Glacier could be outflanked. The PA could attempt to recapture NJ9842 (surrounded by three distinct glaciers, Gyong, Urdelop and Korissa) in sub-sector west (renamed Hanif sector in memory of Captain Hanifuddin who died here during the 1999 Kargil war) presently held by India, and the PLA could sever India’s operational logistics by land and air maintenance to Sub-Sector North (SSN) facing the Chinese in Ladakh. In an area of little collateral damage, and removed from the Kashmir Valley where a ceasefire since 26 November 2003 could continue to hold, the two allies have capability and reasons (both are non-status quo and pro-active powers) to send a powerful message to India.
To be sure, few nations would diplomatically come to India’s rescue. The Siachen glacier will be interpreted to be on disputed land, and China with its unchallenged (by India) policy shift towards Pakistan would say that India is in illegal possession of both Siachen and Kashmir both of which belong to Pakistan. Such a scenario is plausible. To put this into perspective, two questions would need to be addressed. Why would Pakistan and China collude against India over Siachen? And does India have the capability to prevent this? To appreciate this, there is the need to step-back to 13 April 1984 when India started the Siachen war with complete disregard to history, the powerful geo-politics of the region, and military acumen.































Two Generals
The Siachen war for India, called Operation Meghdoot, was started by two generals, the Northern Army Commander, Lt General M.L. Chibber and his junior, the 15 crops commander in Srinagar, Lt General P.N. Hoon without any cohesive and comprehensive military planning. Operation Meghdoot was conceptualised as a minor side-show by the Northern Army Command with little involvement of the army headquarters. The COAS, General A.S. Vaidya was sidestepped by Hoon with tacit encouragement from Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. In his book, Hoon has said more than we would have ever known about the beginnings of this self-defeating war. He makes an unabashed assertion of close ties between the Hoon clan and Nehru family, finally taking the credit for briefing Prime Minister Indira Gandhi at his headquarters in Srinagar on why it was necessary to launch Meghdoot. In later years, while Chibber conceded that occupation of Siachen was a mistake, Hoon makes a nonsensical case about the importance of Siachen (see following boxes ‘Meeting Chibber’ and ‘Hoon Talk’).
Why did a discerning Indira Gandhi accept Hoon’s incredible exposition on the strategic importance of Siachen? Because, the war was politically necessary. Operation  Meghdoot was to be the first military operation since Independence when India conveyed a clear political message to Pakistan and China: India retains the right and might to pre-empt rather than react. Pakistan was stopped from having a free-run in Kashmir especially in the NA. It is a geo-political truism that unoccupied territory, however marginal, gets occupied over time by the side which has the military means and muscle to do it. Once India and Pakistan acquired sophisticated weapons and developed expertise in mountain and high altitude warfare in the late Seventies, it was a matter of time who would occupy Siachen first.
Unfortunately, Chibber and Hoon did not understand the geo-political significance of Siachen and started the war with incorrect military perceptions, resulting in faulty military aims and planning. The Indian political leadership in 1984 understood the need for the Siachen war, but did not give out political objectives of war to the military leadership. It could be argued that it was the military leadership who suggested the Siachen conflict to Indira Gandhi, and not the other way round. The Prime Minister merely went along with the military decision hoping there would be little need to baby-walk the generals. Her only term of reference was that the conflict should not escalate; precisely what happened subsequently.
This was because the two generals based the military planning on a wrong assumption that there was no requirement for a permanent occupation of the Siachen Glacier, or better still to permanently occupy low areas to the west (Dansum) of the Saltoro Range, the westernmost high ridge boundary, ranging from 12,000 to 22,000 feet, of the Glacier. It was thought enough to deter Pakistani troops from reaching the Saltoro Range. The military leadership failed to appreciate the nature and quantum of Pakistani reaction to an Indian occupation of Saltoro passes. On one hand, the nature and quantum of the protracted conflict was assessed wrongly. On the other, two basic military rules were simply overlooked. That logistics planning is always more important than strategy in war especially in high altitude mountainous terrain; and operations in high altitude areas are different from those in the mountains.
So what did planners of Operation Meghdoot do? Based on faulty military appreciation, a cardinal principle of war in the mountains was transgressed. A need for secure and organic logistics and administration of troops perched on the passes was given least attention. The Indian Air Force was asked to provide logistics, because Chibber concluded that the best and the most economical way to sustain this operation would be by the use of helicopters. An important medical lesson established by the 1962 war with China was that no acclimatisation for human beings is possible at heights more than 18,000 feet. While it is good tactics to occupy heights in the mountains for observation and operations, doing so is a hazardous proposition in high altitude areas. If only these simple facts had struck Indian commanders, the Saltoro passes would not have been occupied and a national tragedy would have been averted. Indian soldiers have taken more casualties fighting weather than Pakistani troops which occupy much lower heights.
What should have India done? Instead of occupying the Saltoro passes, Indian troops should have occupied territory west of the Saltoro Range, which then was lightly held by Pakistan. Dansum, which after the launch of Operation Meghdoot became Pakistan’s 323 brigade headquarters, at an average height of 10,000 feet, was an ideal location. This would have helped an Indian occupation in six ways:
·         One, Dansum is a relatively flat area at lower heights and is ideal for heliborne operations and troops build-up.
·         Two, the three major passes on the Saltoro Range — Sia La, Bilafond La and Gyong La — meet at Dansum. This makes Dansum an excellent base to defend the Saltoro ridge and the glacier itself.
·         Three, an Indian occupation of Dansum would have threatened Khapalu, which is Pakistan’s heavy brigade size garrison.
·         Four, Indian casualties due to weather on the Saltoro ridge and the glacier would have been minimal.
·         Five, the benefit of occupying Dansum was to be in negotiations with Pakistan as India would have been in a strong bargaining position to trade ‘land for peace’.
·         And six, Dansum provides an easy link-up with Sub-Sector West, area west of map point NJ 9842 which is the most sensitive and fighting prone area in Siachen.
Both Chibber and Hoon do not agree. According to them, occupation of Dansum ‘would have violated the Shimla agreement as Dansum is north-west and not north of NJ 9842. Secondly, Dansum is situated in a valley and we would have been dominated by Pakistan unless we captured the heights west of Dansum. Occupation of Dansum would have meant territorial aggression by India’. This argument is flawed. If a straight line due north is drawn from NJ 9842, it joins Terram Shehr II glacier, implying that in its present occupation of Sia La, Indian troops are already eight degrees west of where they should be; and hence aggressors.
Moreover, as point NJ 9842 was not identified on the ground in 1984 when Operation Meghdoot started, how was it known that ‘due north’ was along the Saltoro ridge? It was only in 1985 that an Indian survey team identified map point NJ 9842 with an approach from Urdolep glacier. NJ 9842 is surrounded by three distinct glaciers, Gyong, Urdelop and Korisa. Even if an occupation of Dansum meant a localised war with Pakistan, how would it be more than what it is now when artillery has been used freely, fiercely and regularly?
The simple truth remains that Meghdoot was not a well thought out military plan, but was a panic reaction, reminiscent of the pre-1962 ‘forward policy’ against China, when posts were occupied without ensuring their logistics lifeline. Panic was created by Pakistan’s action, as its former COAS, General Mirza Aslam Beg later conceded: In 1983 Pakistani Special Service Group chased Indian scouts from the glacier. The race for militarisation of Siachen was started by Pakistan, and India thoughtlessly occupied the Saltoro Range with an incorrect strategy of ‘holding the passes’.
India’s non-military approach seems strange for two other reasons. One, the IA has always given importance to this area by making military gains in this sector in the 1971 war with Pakistan. India’s major gains in the Western Sector against Pakistan were about 22km in the Turtok Sector, which it traded with Pakistan’s gains made in the Chhamb sector. These two tactical changes resulted in the Cease Fire Line becoming the Line of Control after the 1971 war. And two, since early Eighties, both sides had been sending military patrols
The Siachen war for India, called Operation Meghdoot, was started by two generals, the Northern Army Commander, Lt General M.L. Chibber and his junior, the 15 crops commander in Srinagar, Lt General P.N. Hoon without any cohesive and comprehensive military planning. Operation Meghdoot was conceptualised as a minor side-show by the Northern Army Command with little involvement of the army headquarters. The COAS, General A.S. Vaidya was sidestepped by Hoon with tacit encouragement from Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. In his book, Hoon has said more than we would have ever known about the beginnings of this self-defeating war. He makes an unabashed assertion of close ties between the Hoon clan and Nehru family, finally taking the credit for briefing Prime Minister Indira Gandhi at his headquarters in Srinagar on why it was necessary to launch Meghdoot. In later years, while Chibber conceded that occupation of Siachen was a mistake, Hoon makes a nonsensical case about the importance of Siachen (see following boxes ‘Meeting Chibber’ and ‘Hoon Talk’).
Why did a discerning Indira Gandhi accept Hoon’s incredible exposition on the strategic importance of Siachen? Because, the war was politically necessary. Operation Meghdoot was to be the first military operation since Independence when India conveyed a clear political message to Pakistan and China: India retains the right and might to pre-empt rather than react. Pakistan was stopped from having a free-run in Kashmir especially in the NA. It is a geo-political truism that unoccupied territory, however marginal, gets occupied over time by the side which has the military means and muscle to do it. Once India and Pakistan acquired sophisticated weapons and developed expertise in mountain and high altitude warfare in the late Seventies, it was a matter of time who would occupy Siachen first.
Unfortunately, Chibber and Hoon did not understand the geo-political significance of Siachen and started the war with incorrect military perceptions, resulting in faulty military aims and planning. The Indian political leadership in 1984 understood the need for the Siachen war, but did not give out political objectives of war to the military leadership. It could be argued that it was the military leadership who suggested the Siachen conflict to Indira Gandhi, and not the other way round. The Prime Minister merely went along with the military decision hoping there would be little need to baby-walk the generals. Her only term of reference was that the conflict should not escalate; precisely what happened subsequently.
This was because the two generals based the military planning on a wrong assumption that there was no requirement for a permanent occupation of the Siachen Glacier, or better still to permanently occupy low areas to the west (Dansum) of the Saltoro Range, the westernmost high ridge boundary, ranging from 12,000 to 22,000 feet, of the Glacier. It was thought enough to deter Pakistani troops from reaching the Saltoro Range. The military leadership failed to appreciate the nature and quantum of Pakistani reaction to an Indian occupation of Saltoro passes. On one hand, the nature and quantum of the protracted conflict was assessed wrongly. On the other, two basic military rules were simply overlooked. That logistics planning is always more important than strategy in war especially in high altitude mountainous terrain; and operations in high altitude areas are different from those in the mountains.
So what did planners of Operation Meghdoot do? Based on faulty military appreciation, a cardinal principle of war in the mountains was transgressed. A need for secure and organic logistics and administration of troops perched on the passes was given least attention. The Indian Air Force was asked to provide logistics, because Chibber concluded that the best and the most economical way to sustain this operation would be by the use of helicopters. An important medical lesson established by the 1962 war with China was that no acclimatisation for human beings is possible at heights more than 18,000 feet. While it is good tactics to occupy heights in the mountains for observation and operations, doing so is a hazardous proposition in high altitude areas. If only these simple facts had struck Indian commanders, the Saltoro passes would not have been occupied and a national tragedy would have been averted. Indian soldiers have taken more casualties fighting weather than Pakistani troops which occupy much lower heights.
What should have India done? Instead of occupying the Saltoro passes, Indian troops should have occupied territory west of the Saltoro Range, which then was lightly held by Pakistan. Dansum, which after the launch of Operation Meghdoot became Pakistan’s 323 brigade headquarters, at an average height of 10,000 feet, was an ideal location. This would have helped an Indian occupation in six ways:
· One, Dansum is a relatively flat area at lower heights and is ideal for heliborne operations and troops build-up.
· Two, the three major passes on the Saltoro Range — Sia La, Bilafond  to the region. For example, two major expeditions by the Indian Army in 1982 and 1983, called Polar Bear I and II, were military reconnaissance efforts and left tell-tale signs on the passes climbed by them. These patrols brought back information about Pakistani mountaineers, Special Forces and Northern Light Infantry, closing up from the Khapalu side towards Siachen.
India today takes pride in the fact that the entire 110km long Saltoro Range, called the Actual Ground Position Line (the western edge of the glacier facing Pakistan) is held by it, thereby denying the advantage of the Glacier to both Pakistan and China. For this reason, India will continue to hold the Glacier until Pakistan accepts a mutual withdrawal of troops on India’s terms, which means that it should formally agree to authenticate in some form the present Indian positions on the AGPL. In short, the planning and execution of Operation Meghdoot (Pakistan calls it Operation Ababeel) has been a complete success. Even as this perception has become widespread over the years, it is not the truth. Even today, the main effort on the Glacier is to maintain and preserve the personnel.
The operational logistics wholly supported by the IAF drives the Siachen war-fighting doctrine conceptualised by the IA, instead of the other way round. In any case, the IA never dwelt on a Siachen doctrine keeping geo-politics and military imperatives in mind; it concentrated on a presence on Siachen, a mind-set borrowed from the Line of Control deployments against Pakistan. The IA’s abysmally poor ability for war-gaming is all too evident: From a company-group task force for Siachen on 13 April 1984, the troops’ requirement has grown to nearly two brigade-groups plus holdings under 102 (Independent) brigade headquarters at Partapur; at any time three battalions hold the three passes on the Saltoro Range and another three battalions plus are on the Glacier itself. This is not all. Equal numbers are being trained for troops’ rotation every six months and same numbers are kept earmarked for induction. The entire operational logistics is being done by the IAF, with casualty evacuation responsibility shared by the IAF and IA’s aviation corps. Unlike Pakistan, where troops have the dual advantage of being at lower height and easy access to their posts, the India side has a single supply route going across the length of the Glacier. At the southernmost tip of the Glacier lies the base camp, the hub of all preparatory activities for living on the Glacier (see ‘NJ 9842 and broadening of the war’).

Colluding Allies
To go back to why Siachen could be the next surprise by Pakistan, there is a need to revisit the geo-politics of the region. Of the six mountain ranges in the region, Kun Lun, Pamirs, Hindukush, Karakoram, Great Himalayan Range, and the Pir Panjal range, India has traditionally given importance to the Great Himalayan Range, which until the 1962 war was considered impregnable. Pakistan and China with a keener sense of history have understood geo-politics better and hence the importance of the Karakoram. Pakistan’s understanding was the takeaway from the British who grasped the geo-politics around the old Silk route which passed along the base of the Siachen glacier towards the Karakoram pass and onto China. Determined to dominate Tibet, China first occupied Aksai Chin in 1948 and secured its land corridor to connect Xinjiang (earlier East Turkestan). Then, in the 1962 war, it pushed its claims to secure areas east of Karakoram. This was meant to provide depth of the land route to Xinjiang. In later years until the Eighties, the Chinese offer to trade off the Eastern Sector (Arunachal Pradesh) and the Western Sector (Ladakh) with India were attempts to secure its interests in the Karakoram. Except for Tawang, Arunachal Pradesh did not have any importance for the then weak China.
The Karakoram Range has a geo-political dynamics of its own. More awesome than the Great Himalayas, the Karakoram can be crossed over through two passes only. The Karakoram pass in the east is the shortest route from Leh to Xinjiang, and interestingly the Pakistani version of NJ 9842 running eastward (trigger for Siachen war) terminates at this Karakoram pass. The other pass on Karakoram is Khunjareb pass in the north across which the famed Karakoram highway runs. When Pakistan ceded the Shaksgam valley to China in 1963, it aligned itself closer to Chinese territory. The southern end of Shaksgam valley is close to the northern tip of the Karakoram pass. It cannot be a coincidence that all these years that China has been in border talks with India it has deliberately not discussed the western portion of the Karakoram towards India. The plea has been that it is a disputed area between India and Pakistan.
Now, with China declaring in 2010 that its border with India is a mere 2,000km dismissing the earlier accepted disputed status of Ladakh, and with reports of Pakistan leasing large portions of NA to China, technically the two allies have finally linked up. What remains is a physical link-up, which requires the PA to capture NJ 9842 and China to sever land and air links to SSN facing it. In military terms, the physical link-up by the two adversaries will completely outflank India’s Siachen defences and render them untenable. Sooner rather than later, India will be forced to unilaterally pull-back its troops from Siachen, which would be a national humiliation. With the Karakoram Range firmly with China and Pakistan, Leh, the capital of Ladakh, would finally be threatened. To recall, the district magistrate of Leh is on record in 2011 to have said that China is intruding into its areas, a charge denied by New Delhi worried about souring relations with China.
It now becomes clear that occupation of Siachen in 1984 was a monumental blunder. The need was for permanent occupation west of the Saltoro Range. This would have facilitated dominance of ingress routes to the Glacier passes and importantly, provide access to the Shyok and Nubra river approaches. With the IA having placed itself in an operationally difficult situation, the burden to prevent a physical link-up of China and Pakistan falls once again largely on the IAF.

Thwarting China-Pak Collusion
Should Chinese decide to back Pakistan to push the NJ 9842-Karakoram line, India will need to be prepared for a limited war in time and space. Combined, the two allies have the capability to dare and accomplish this. As India will hesitate to broaden the war to include Kashmir, where a ceasefire holds, let alone allow itself into an all-out two-front war for which it lacks both political will and military capabilities, at the forefront will be the IA’s 14 corps. The IAF will need to play a supportive role to the land forces as otherwise the war would not remain a limited one.
The 14 corps which was raised on 1 September 1999 after the Kargil war has limited assets and awesome responsibilities. Its 8 mountain division is responsible for the Kargil sector which extends between Zoji la and sub-sector Hanif. Its other 3 infantry division looks after Siachen and the LAC with China. The corps has two reserve brigades. With a frontage of 1,162km, the corps zone has a 238km LC against Pakistan, a 110km AGPL on Siachen, and 814km LAC with China. With snow blocking the Srinagar-Leh road which passes through Zoji la, the corps remains cut-off from the rest of Jammu and Kashmir for six to seven months in a year. Another peculiarity of 14 corps is that it is entirely in high altitude areas from heights between 10,000 ft to 22,000 ft.
Given such unique characteristics, 14 corps requires a different command profile. GOC 14 corps should be an operational rather than a tactical level commander dependent on the Northern Army Commander to help address crisis and war-time situations. This will be contrary to the IA doctrine where a corps for a conventional war is a tactical level formation. As an operational level commander, GOC 14 corps would be able to interact directly with the army headquarters to ensure a balance between Pakistan and China in threat assessments, procurements, and infrastructure development. He could directly ask for army headquarters reserves in a shortened chain of command; and interact with the western air command especially in peacetime about his corps’ unique requirements without having to go through the northern army command. All this would help 14 corps appreciate a situation better and meet the challenge in time with adequate response.
Two other operational gaps staring 14 corps in the face are lack of adequate round- the-clock surveillance capabilities, and artillery firepower. Unlike China, which has high resolution radars on satellites capable of surveillance through bad weather (which is the norm in the region), 14 corps has frugal satellite capabilities. 14 corps is highly dependent on airborne sensors for surveillance (which it does not own) with limited capabilities and weather dependent platforms. Regarding artillery, the situation is pathetic. Considering the need for high angle firing guns with good ranges and projectile weights for the Siachen theatre, both Pakistan and China score heavily over India. Thus, in all five important operational areas of surveillance, firepower, adequate reserves for tasks at hand, the needed formation level for better command and control and necessary infrastructure, 14 corps appears grossly inadequate. It is doubtful if the army headquarters has reckoned a situation where China would back the PA to enforce NJ 9842-Karakoram line.
Living quarters for jawans at base camp
The IAF is better prepared than the IA to face such a challenge. As part of its peacetime air maintenance challenge which straddles Siachen and SSN against China, it has garnered expertise to operate in these high altitude areas. The IAF is also conscious that given the terrain, climatic conditions, defunct infrastructure, and the importance of this area, its operational role will be awesome. Moreover, since 2003, the IAF has been working silently to procure capabilities and build assets in this area to meet the dual challenge. To be sure, when the IAF speaks about assets for a strategic role, what it has in mind is not out-of-area operations, but deterrence against China.
This thinking is exemplified by the development of the THOISE (Transit Halt of Indian Soldiers Enroute) air force station at an altitude of 10,066feet. THOISE is located south of Shyok river, between the Saltoro Range and the Great Ladakh Range (Khardung La). The Saltoro Range ends up in the Siachen glacier from where the Nubra river flows to become a tributary of the Shyok river. As the major river in the region, Shyok originates near Daulat Beg Oldie (where India fought China in 1962 war) and joins the Indus in POK. Thus, THOISE is well placed to supply along the river lines, Shyok and Nubra, both the Indian posts in SSN against China and in Siachen. In addition, it also supplies to the southern glacier where NJ 9842 is located. Given such air maintenance responsibilities on two theatres which the IAF does with credit, it could not be unaware of the operational importance of THOISE. It is another matter that given the government sensitivity towards China, the IAF incessantly downplays its operational role. However, its capability building and training betrays this.
THOISE development has happened in three interesting stages. Developed in 1960, THOISE Advanced Landing Ground (ALG) was used during the 1962 war to drop men and material by Dakota and Packet aircraft. With Operation Meghdoot, THOISE entered the second phase when AN-32 aircraft started operations from here in October 1984. A 7,500 feet long black-top (concrete) runway was completed in January 1987; subsequently the runway length was increased to 10,000 feet to facilitate air maintenance operations by IL-76 and AN-32. In third phase, in 2004, THOISE was upgraded to an independent air force station with a forward base support unit under it. It now has centrally heated hangers for Mi-17IV, and Mi-26s are parked here. Night flying is a major accomplishment of this air base. The length of the runway is being further increased to facilitate landings by all fighter aircraft; Su-30MKI aircraft have already landed here. According to the IAF, in case of hotting up of operations against China, THOISE will be used as a staging airfield. However, given its altitude, weapons load carrying capacity of combat aircraft taking off from THOISE will be severely curtailed. This is where the air-to-air refuellers will come in handy. In short, Leh (10,680 ft) and THOISE (10,066 ft) located on both sides of Khardung La are two major air force bases available in this area.
This is not all. The IAF has plans to develop Nyoma and Kargil as air force bases with facilities to operate all types of combat and transport aircraft. While Kargil needs little explanation about its operational usefulness, Nyoma at 13,500 ft is a mere 25km from the LAC, and importantly given its location, has the capability to deny a major air ingress route to the People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF). Moreover, unlike DBO (the other ingress route) and Fukche, Nyoma has living villages around it which would get a major boost by an air force station there. Two other airstrips at DBO and Fukche will remain ALGs for use of transport aircraft. The terrain at DBO precludes combat aircraft operations, and Fukche at 13,700 ft altitude and just 10km from the LAC is too close to the Chinese for IAF comfort. Unlike an air force station, ALGs are meant for peacetime operations. Considering that the IAF has acquired C-130J and will soon have the C-17 aircraft, the larger operational role for the service becomes clear. The IAF does not need these aircraft for air maintenance; the C-130J is for Special Operations and the C-17 will be the alternative to defunct infrastructure in a war situation.
The IAF clearly has the PLAAF in mind, and is gearing up to take on the challenge. But has the IAF been in talks with the IA’s 14 corps about a surprise at Siachen?


‘Siachen does not have any strategic significance’

Lt Gen. M.L.Chibber

FORCE interview with Lt Gen. M.L. Chibber (retd) reproduced from December 2004

“Siachen does not have any strategic significance. The strategic importance being talked about is all invention,” says Lt Gen. M.L. Chibber (retd), the officer responsible for planning and mounting the Siachen operation (called Meghdoot) for India on 13 April 1984.
Then why did the Indian Army launch Operation Meghdoot? The former General Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Northern Army Command says that two issues precipitated the need for an occupation of Siachen. First, Pakistan had, in March 1963, ceded 5,000 sqkm of territory in Pakistan Occupied Kashmir (claimed by India), north east of the Siachen glacier to China. These include the Hunza tract, Shaksam and Raksham valley. This illegal territorial exchange rankled India. And second, Pakistan’s northern sector commander sent a signal addressed to the Indian northern sector commander on 21 August 1983, which read: “Request instruct your troops to withdraw beyond Line of Control south of line joining point NJ 9842, Karakoram pass NE 7410 immediately. I have instructed my troops to show maximum restraint. But any delay in vacating our territory will create a serious situation.” According to Chibber, Army Headquarters approached Prime Minister Indira Gandhi for permission to deny the glacier (which they were claiming) to Pakistan. While giving the green signal, Mrs Gandhi made it clear that the army action should be done in a manner which will not escalate into an all-out war. With these political instructions, Chibber decided to occupy only three passes (Sia La, Bilafond La, and Gyong La) on the Saltoro ridge. This was in consonance with the 1949 Karachi agreement which delimited the Cease Fire Line till map point NJ 9842, thence north to the glaciers. Chibber and his 15 corps commander, Lt Gen. P.N. Hoon who took charge on 3 August 1983 started planning Operation Meghdoot. In December 1983, Hoon was shopping for tents, ski boots and other glacier-related equipment and clothing in Europe for the impending operation.
Chibber says that the plan was to occupy the three passes with platoon group strength (50 to 60 soldiers) each for summer months only. During this period, the troops were to be maintained totally by air. It was appreciated by the Indian military leadership that given the adverse climatic conditions during winter months neither side would want to occupy these passes. Asked why Pakistan would not occupy passes vacated by Indian troops, Chibber said, “In my experience as the deputy director military operations during the delimitation of the Line of Control (LoC) after the 1971 Indo-Pak war, Pakistanis were prone to transgressing the LoC. But once it was occupied by Indian troops, they usually went back to the original line. The basic issue was who reaches the passes first.”
Chibber and the Army Headquarters believed that Pakistan will cower to an Indian military presence and would abide by the spirit of the Karachi agreement sooner rather than later. Thereafter, there may be little need to even hold the passes in summer months. The Indian military leadership was jolted from slumber by an intelligence briefing on Pakistan’s extensive preparations for Siachen given to Chibber in May 1984, a month after the Indian troops were perched on the three Saltoro passes. It was at this stage that Chibber concluded that occupation of passes would need to be permanent. Reminiscent of the 1962 ‘forward policy’ against China which led to India’s humiliation in the Sino-India war, the Indian Army leadership had appreciated that a sporadic military presence would be enough to deter Pakistan from occupying the glacier.
Why did the Indian army’s appreciation go so wrong? Chibber gives two reasons for this: One, as always, intelligence agencies had failed the nation. “We did not have intelligence about what the Pakistanis were up to regarding Siachen,” he says. And two, Mrs Gandhi’s assassination in November 1984 precipitated matters and emboldened Pakistan President Gen. Zia-ul-Haq to not accept the Indian fait accompli.

Hoon Talk

How the Siachen war was ill-conceived and ill-planned


Extracts from Lt. Gen. P.N. Hoon’s Memoirs Unmasking Secrets 

of Turbulence (Published in 2000)
I took over as corps commander of 15 Corps on 3 August 1983. In September-October I briefed Prime Minister Indira Gandhi about the strategic importance of Siachen and about Pakistan’s designs to capture Kardung La, (sic) the highest motorable road in the world, and thus dominate Leh by bringing artillery, rockets etc, into the Nubra Valley — capture Leh and then link up with the Chinese at Aksai Chin.
The preparation for Operation Meghdoot started long before the operation was actually launched. In November-December 1983, I went on a shopping mission to Europe. The shopping did not include arms, but skis, tents, boots and other equipment for soldiers to survive in high altitude. The operation was finally launched on 13 April 1984. It was still winter in Siachen. The plan was a vertical envelopment by surprise during winter, when the passes were closed and this is what happened. By 18 April, we had secured control over Siachen, including Indira Col…
As commander of the operation, I wish to state that the operation was launched after a careful logistics planning. The initial plan of putting 20 to 30 men over Sia La, Bilafond La and Gyong La was only an interim action. This was to be followed by the raising of a brigade (three battalions with 1,200 troops each) trained in ‘white shod operations’ ie, who would be ski-trained and hence would operate throughout the year. The brigade was raised when I was the corps commander of 15 corps. This was to be further made into a division (three brigades or nine battalions) and then within one or two years it was to be organised into a STRIKE FORCE CORPS FOR WHITE SHOD OPERATIONS (author’s emphasis). This was never carried out.
The logistics costs which are being incurred today would have been avoided, had the plan been fully implemented. The plan was to station the strike force not at Siachen but between Kargil, Dras, Sonamarg, Magam and Gandarbal. The advantage of this would be that the logistics support for this large force would have been minimal, since it was positioned on a highway and the valley. On the other hand it would have been a deterrent to Pakistan. It would have the capability to strike at the underbelly of the Saltoro Range, if Pakistan dared to attack and capture one of the passes on the glacier. The number of soldiers actually stationed at Siachen was to have been minimal. If Pakistan did manage to capture any post or pass, then the Strike Force would react by going right up to Gilgit, Skardu, and threaten the Karakoram Highway.

FORCE’s Comments

Hoon’s understanding of Siachen as told to Indira Gandhi, over-rides common-sense. When Shyok and Indus river approaches are available to Pakistan, it would have been simply foolish for them to cross the Saltoro Range at average heights of 20,000 ft to reach Leh, the capital of Ladakh. Even if the Pakistanis were stupid enough to do so how many of its mountaineers (not soldiers) would have reached Leh through the treacherous Siachen Glacier. And would it not have been easy for Indian troops and firepower to decimate fatigued troops?
Hoon’s assertion that, if allowed, Pakistan would have brought artillery to Nubra Valley to dominate Leh is strange. With good artillery deployment sites at lower altitudes available to Pakistan, why would it have done what India was forced to do? Indian artillery guns were dropped on the glacier by Mi-17 helicopters of the Indian Air Force as small loads of dismantled pieces, where technicians assembled them at surveyed locations. If ever there is a demilitarisation of the glacier, India would have to abandon the guns deployed there as they cannot be retrieved.
Hoon’s detailed operational plan for Siachen is fictitious and has been written by him (his book came out in 2000) with the benefit of the 1999 Kargil war. Chibber denied the existence of any such plan to FORCE, and 15 corps headquarters has no records of Hoon’s strike force corps plan. Moreover, no brigade — expert in white shod operations — as claimed by Hoon, was ever raised or exists in 15 corps.
Assuming that Hoon’s plan did exist, it is interesting to understand its salient features. Twenty to 30 men were to occupy the main passes on the Saltoro Range (obviously air maintained) as an interim measure, while a brigade expert in skiing was to be raised. It is unclear if these brigade experts were to ski through the innumerable crevices and serve as porters to ferry logistics from the logistics maintenance areas on the glacier to the posts on the Saltoro. Or, they were to wait until the Strike Corps expert in skiing would become a reality.
Hoon’s stupid plan suggests that if Pakistan captured any posts on the Saltoro, the Indian Strike Corps would have the capability to go and threaten the Karakoram Highway. Once India launched Operation Meghdoot, Pakistan launched its own Operation Ababeel (eagle) for Siachen. In less than a year, the PA established brigade strength garrisons each at Dansum, Khapalu, Siari, Skardu, with an ad hoc corps headquarters (Force Command Northern Area) at Gilgit under the overall command of 10 corps at Rawalpindi. India has indeed been fortunate to have not raised the ski-trained strike corps.

Actual Execution

The truth about Operation Meghdoot is a tribute to Indian troops who despite the stupidity of their generals are willing to tread the extra mile. The actual Hoon plan had assessed that the overall commitment of troops-to-task would not exceed a reinforced battalion (about 1,300 soldiers).
This included the task force and soldier-porters to ferry logistics. The task force under Lt Col Pushkar Chand comprised one company (about 120 men) of Ladakh scouts for Sia La, one company of 4 Kumaon to Bilafond La, and one company of 19 Kumaon to Gyong La. Elements of Special Forces and instructors from the army’s High Altitude Warfare School were also included in the three parties. As far as logistics were concerned, a platoon (about 35 soldiers) each for three groups was provided as porters to ferry logistics on foot from the staging camp on the glacier to the two forward posts on the Saltoro Range.
Troops for Sia La and Bilafond La were to be lifted by helicopters, while troops for Gyong La (adjacent to NJ 9842) were told to walk on the glacier to their locations. Unfortunately, an avalanche wiped out the entire walking column of 19 Kumaon to Gyong La, and extreme bad weather disrupted helicopter lift of troops to the other two passes. Meanwhile, radio communications were disrupted as no one had thought of present radio sets working in the extreme climate. Only on the fourth day (April 18), half of troops (about 60 soldiers) were managed to be dropped at Sia La and Bilafond La. In less than two weeks, 26 out of the 52 troops at Bilafond La were evacuated on medical grounds. The foot columns carrying logistics took enormous casualties mainly because of the unpredictable crevices. And with the death of the entire 19 Kumaon column in an avalanche, Pakistani troops (Burzil force) managed to occupy Gyong La, which subsequently led to the broadening of the war. Such was the beginning of Operation Meghdoot, which would eventually have a division (six battalions) worth of troops on the glacier and the Saltoro Ridge, and two times more numbers for troops’ rotation.