Introduction
It is the ambition of every Staff College graduate to be a Brigade Major (BM). In September 1977 I was happy to be posted as BM to 112 Mountain Brigade in Sikkim. The Headquarters was then located in Siliguri (Sevoke) for various tasks, but our operational role was in North Sikkim, as beautiful an area as one will ever see.
On receiving my posting order, my enthusiasm received a check. Do you know the Brigade Commander is K.S. Pannu of the Paras? God help you! I soon found out that Pannu as CO 2 Para had dropped with his battalion at Tangail in Bangladesh for which he had earned a MVC and had been one of the first to enter Dhaka. He was a forced bachelor and reputed to drink a bottle of whisky every night. It was also implied obliquely that he had little time for people like me. Anyhow, the die was cast.
Brigade Major
I reported for duty to find that the previous BM had left and the Divisional Commander (GOC) was changing. It was a few days before I met Pannu. He wanted everyone to call him KS, but I could never manage that. I was apprehensive as we started because I knew little of how a Brigade HQ functions. However, I had about fifteen years of service, had done regimental service in NEFA and Kashmir and the mountains held no terror for me.
The work was routine and unchallenging. But I soon discovered that Pannu was rarely to be seen. This was his third or fourth tenure in Sikkim and he knew everybody around. So he would take his Jonga and disappear. Often he was at Gangtok where his coursemate and fellow paratrooper, Brig. G.P. Tripathi was commanding a brigade; or the two of them would be at some Planters’ Club. They were a team. Highly intelligent and mischievous, they could be devastating when troubling someone. But in our new GOC, Maj. Gen. B.K. Bhattacharya of the Madras Regiment, they met their match. They never tried to be clever with him or the Corps Commander, Lt. Gen. W.A.G. Pinto. Both the Generals could handle irascible commanders and Gen. Pinto, the recent victor of battle of Basantar, had a sharp sense of humour and wit that neither Pannu nor Tripathi could match. In this set-up, I was at the bottom of the pyramid, a general dogsbody.
The Commander
Pannu’s style of command was that if the BM could handle any problem, he did not want to know about it and this extended to operational decisions. How did we get on? He was unconventional in the extreme. He considered me, a conservative Guardsman and a Camberley type, the High Priest of Conventionality. Coming from Pannu, I took that as a compliment.
Most of the times, Pannu carried this delegation too far. One day I was told to prepare an operational brief to discuss some changes and the first he saw of it was when he was driving to the Corps HQ. Anyhow, it was his head. When he returned he said that the Corps Commander had a message for me. Would I, a Guardsman, stop bringing drill into tactics? Gen. Pinto was also a Guardsman and frankly I did not believe Pannu. I thought he was bullying me. However, a few days later I ran into Gen. Pinto and in a few incisive words he told me what was wrong. ‘Why did you deploy the reserves I had given you? The only way a commander can influence a battle is by using his reserves, so employ them only when needed.’ It was a lesson never to be forgotten.
Another time it was the GOC’s turn to put me right. One day he spoke to me from his office in Gangtok. ‘Palsokar, when are we going to teach you Indian minor staff duties?’ When I asked what was wrong, Gen. Bhattacharya, ever the Staff College instructor, in precise sentences told me what was wrong and what the correct method was. There was reproof but also encouragement and even affection, in his manner. I learned from both the Commanders how a team can be carried together by a General, howsoever senior he may be. I was indeed fortunate to serve under such commanders.
Pannu never took part in any of this. He was quite content to let his BM fend for himself. He applied himself only when he had to speak in front of a gathering. Then he would write out in long hand what he was to say and read it once or twice. I never saw him refer to a piece of paper thereafter. He was also very fond of reading and whenever he went to the Corps library, he would ask me if I wanted any particular book. He would return with at least 10 – 12 books and leave them on my table. After the books were read by both of us, he would replace them.
I soon learned that for all his macho act, Pannu had a shrewd and professional brain and could be quite patient when one disagreed with him. He was an unerring judge of men. He was also very generous and I never knew him to harm anyone. People got away with all sorts of mistakes under him. His problem was that he acted first and thought later. It was his BM’s job to sort things out.
One night while in Sevoke, he took umbrage at the frequent power cuts we faced and decided to sort out the matter in his way. We were up in North Sikkim and knew nothing of this. The local (civil) sub-station had a generator which they used for their local use. Pannu drove his Jonga into their gate, breaking it and at the point of pistol got the generator switched on from the terrified operator. The happiness lasted till next morning, when that worthy Bengali ‘babu’ wrote letters starting with the President, Prime Minister and ending with our HQ. I have forgotten how that was sorted out.
Every time Pannu disappeared no one knew where he was, including me. One day, he over-reached himself. In the middle of the night I got a call from Gangtok. It was Pannu. He wanted to know from me when the Divisional boxing tournament was. Given the time, I neither knew nor cared and told him so. He was furious and said that he was returning at once to take charge of his Brigade which I seemed to be mucking up. Next morning there was no sign of our gallant Commander. After a short wait, I had our long suffering GSO3, Capt Tipsy (TPPS) Gusain start ringing all traffic check posts en route. Finally we homed in on two. One said that they had seen a vehicle with red light pass at about 2:00 a.m. and the next one said no such vehicle had passed them. I was certain that Pannu (he always drove himself) had taken his Jonga down the khud and was lying injured somewhere with his driver. I told Tipsy to get organised with a radio set, nursing assistant and vehicle mechanic and start searching between these two traffic posts. It was a Sunday morning.
All this took some time and as Tipsy was set to leave, I got a call that Pannu was in a helicopter with the Army Commander, flying from Kalimpong to Bagdogra and he should be picked up there. I told Tipsy to stand down and said that I will go myself to pick up our errant Commander. It took longer for me to reach the airfield than the helicopter. Pannu was in the crew room chi-hiking with the pilots, in the best of moods. As we drove out, I am afraid I lost it. I told Pannu not to do this to us again. He was most surprised, now what had he done? I told him that we thought he had broken his neck somewhere en route and were about to start searching for him. ‘Who cares, if I break my neck’, he asked and I read him some blunt truths. He stopped the Jonga and stared at me, ‘Okay, Brigade Major, in future you will always know where I am’. He was as good as his word. From then on, I got a call every morning and evening from Pannu, often with an admonition not to tell anyone. But we knew, and everyone knew that we knew, but no General ever pressed us to ask. That was their greatness.
Conclusion
In the Army tenures end very quickly. Soon Pannu was posted out. Let the reader decide what one could learn from such a chequered commander. One thing I definitely learned was that don’t worry too much about what is going to happen next. Just do what you think is right. So the High Priest of Conventionality had been taken down a peg.
Next week I shall write about battlefield courage, raw courage against an implacable LTTE in Sri Lanka. No generals, but Captains and Subalterns.
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