Flames of Love

 Flames of Love for the Motherland.

Lying on the frozen ground, listening to my heartbeat booming, I knew I was alive. We had all been shot at by the Pakistani soldiers point blank, as they had the strategic advantage, and we were mere sitting ducks.

We had started scaling Tiger Hill as soon as it was dark, so that we could reach the top unobserved. It was a sheer cliff face and so the intruders least expected anyone to be foolish enough, or brave enough to take that route. Our platoon of handpicked, well trained commandos who had already won a few other battles along with the Battle of Tololing, were committed to this assignment.

I could make out that all my comrades had fallen, but the love for my Motherland was burning strong, and the flames seemed to engulf every cell of my being. I told myself, I would not give up as long as the flame burns, even if all my limbs be torn apart.

The enemy commander ordered, “Make sure each of these Indian soldiers is dead.” I heard the heavy crunch of their boots approaching, crushing the ice and soil, my Motherland. “Rat-a-tat-tat” “Rat-a-tat-tat”, flames bursting from their guns, as the dead bodies of my mates leaped lifelessly into the air, guts strewing out along with fountains of deep red blood as they lay sacrificing all.

I too was not spared, I felt the bullets sizzling into me, my arm, my leg. It burnt for a while, a stinging fire, till I could focus no more. I didn’t know, I was awake, alive or dead and dreaming.

Convinced they had killed each one of us, they reported their victory to their Commanding officer, standing right there, gloating on their victory. I heard them being told they had to attack the remaining Indian soldiers and their camp to ensure complete control of Tiger Hill. As the commander jumped to attention, he commanded his soldiers, “Gather the weapons of these enemy soldiers. It will make for an effective photograph and publicity on a job well done.”

Once again, I heard the approaching crunching of the heavy boots, they were well prepared and very well clad, my nineteen-year-old mind noted somewhere deep in my mind. I prayed to the Divine Mother to give me the strength and show me the way. One of the guys fired into the dead bodies of my brothers, while abusing and kicking them. While another picked up the weapons. When my gun was picked up, I wondered what to do and reached for a grenade and lobbed it with all the strength in my hand that was still intact. As it burst into flames, there was total chaos among the camp. They were certain reinforcement had reached  and their camp was under attack. Grabbing the gun of my brother beside me I rolled away and shot a burst in the direction of the voices. I rolled behind a boulder and took another shot. My training and reflexes kicked in and I rolled away again and shot another burst.

Envisaging the flame in my heart burning for Mother India, for the Devi, I sought divine blessings to carry the message back to my Commanding Officer, of the nefarious plans, I had myself heard,  to save my remaining brothers. I owed it to my fallen brothers.

Crawling, slowly, keeping low, I checked the layout of the camp and was surprised to see the strength and size of it. The ammunition stock and the preparations were definitely planned for lasting a long time.

There was enough chaos now, soldiers running amuck, the commander trying to restore order and officers quarreling about backing off or going on offensive, as recently ordered. I sneaked to the narrow ledge which had led us here in the first place, leaving a bloody trail no doubt.

With a broken arm and leg, I contemplated on my journey back. I remembered all those who had sacrificed their lives so far in this war, and that egged me on. Putting all my energy and ability into my descent, I slid, crawled, dragged, and finally rolled down to where lay my unsuspecting brothers. As long as that flame burned in my heart, in  my being, I would tell them all , before I allowed my body to give up.

• This is my humble attempt in telling the story of Subedar Major Yogendra Singh Yadav, who was awarded the highest medal for gallantry the Param Vir Chakra, and as such the youngest recipient at the age of just 19 years. He survived 15 bullet injuries in his tryst atop Tiger Hill.
• I thank Rediff.com for my research.

Reference https://www.rediff.com/news/slide-show/slide-show-1-independence-day-special-the-hero-of-tiger-hill/20120814.htm#1