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Major (Retd) Mumtaz Hussain Shah was born on 19 July 1945. Commissioned in Punjab Regiment in July 1966. He saw operations in former East Pakistan during the 1971 War. a graduate from Command and Staff College, Quetta, he is associated with number of training institutions as guest speaker. As a freelancer, scribes for the leading national dailies; including The News, Dawn, The Nation and The Muslim. He is also associated with Pakistan Broadcasting Corporation as an international cricket commentator.After serving for only ten months in Headquarters 53 Brigade at Comilla and Chittagong, my course was cleared for promotion to the rank of major in July 1971. It necessitated my premature reversion back to the regiment. My battalion - 37 Punjab was located over 1600 kilometers away from volcanic East Pakistan in screen metropolis of NWFP - Peshawar. Three years’ mandatory inter-wing posting tenure foiled my chance of rejoining the battalion, which I had joined as ‘one day old chick’ as aptly phrased by late Major General Abdullah Khan Malik - my first commanding officer.
I joined 31 Punjab on 18 August on permanent posting, located at Sylhet1 (Map-2) - a border town about 200 km NE of Dacca (now Dhaka). The Battalion Headquarters were at Khadium Nagar in North Eastern suburbs of town on Sylhet - Jaintiapur Road. The commanding officer (CO) - late Lt. Col Riaz Hussain Javed, deputed me to command Headquarter Company, which dampened my spirits. It was not a welcome change at all - from staff officer of a brigade to the command of LOBs2. I voiced my concern unequivocally. CO promised to post me to a combat company as soon as possible.
Virtually I had nothing much to do in the new assignment, except quick familiarization with the battle locations. These daily errands to the forward areas lasted for about a week. One morning my CO and me were summoned to 313 Brigade Headquarters for an operational briefing. Brigadier Iftikhar Rana, the Commander briefed me about the impending task, which I had to undertake with a motley organized force.
31 Punjab was to spare a regular platoon (37 all ranks), under a JCO3. 100 Razakars4 and a company (150 persons) of Mujahids were placed under me from the brigade resources. In phase one, I was to dislodge Mukti Bahini5 from two police stations namely; Jagnathpur and Durye (Map - 3) about 72 and 84 km SW of Sylhet respectively. In phase two, convert both the police stations into strong fortress and train Policemen and Razakars. In the third phase, I was to withdraw with regular troops and Mujahid Company to Sylhet, leaving behind the Razakars and sixty Policemen who were to join me later. The task was to be completed in six weeks.
Subedar Sarfraz’s regular platoon and Captain Matee-ur-Rahman’s Mujahid Company joined me in the evening. We left for Kamalpur about 30 km south of Sylhet at 8 PM by road, where the Razakars joined us and the force was transferred to the country boats. By midnight we were on our way to the first objective. It was pitch dark and fear of unknown was nerve shattering. Only splashing of ores broke the mysterious silence of night. Thanks to Razakars’ precise navigation, we reached east of Jagnathpur at the dawn, when a sniper’s randomly fired bullet cautioned us.
Muktis were completely surprised. The police station and the village were captured without much of resistance. The rebels abandoned the position leaving stocks of Indian small arms ammunition and three dead. We captured a Mukti - Matloob in late forties and his seventeen years old son - Feroz. Both professed no links with rebels and sweared holding Holy Quran in their hands, pleading for mercy. Matloob’s persistently swearing on Holy Book and reciting Kulma wilted me. I let them off.
The remaining day was spent in re-organizing the defences and burial of dead. Subedar Sarfraz with 100 men including a section (10 men) of regular troop stayed at Jagnathpur for show off force in the area. With the remaining force I proceeded to Durye at first light the next day.
In the ensuing five hours boat journey we didn’t encounter any opposition till the objective was in our full view. Suddenly a rocket hit the scout (leading) boat. It capsized with three of its inmates. The entire column was under intense mortar and small arms fire. Our attack on a well-defended locality made agonizingly slow progress. In the evening the town fell, but clearance of the small pockets of resistance prolonged the battle well beyond dusk. As the night approached, the rebels escaped in cover of darkness. We suffered 20 casualties; seven killed, three missing and ten injured. Muktis carried away their casualties for us to guess their losses.
As the battle euphoria died down, I sat to write my first ever pitch battle experience for the war dairy. Soon I faced a nerve-wracking situation. The news of recovery of four non-Bengali Muslim teenager girls from Muktis spread like wild fire in the camp. Their ensuing narration was horrifying. The victims hailed to adjacent District of Mymnsingh and were in the camp for more than five months to cook and serve meals to Muktis. Helpless girls were molested repeatedly by their captors. One of them carried four months old pregnancy. All were so shattered that they solicited to be put before firing squad.
Durye6 was a beautiful small town on the southern bank of River Surma, comprising of about 350 houses, mostly bhashas (local straw huts), only accessible by rivulet. It was a Hindu dominant area. The concrete houses mostly belonged to the wealthy Hindus. The police station, a primary school, rest house and huge rice storage shed were other government buildings made of bricks and mortars. The empty rice store betrayed the Indians hollow claims of helping Bengali population against non-Bengali usurpers. The entire rice crop stored for locals was whisked away to India.
For the first time in 24 years of independence the Police Station hoisted Pakistan National flag. The town was totally deserted - not a single soul, except my troops. The next day I visited the village school with Captain Matee. I saw him pulling down and ripping apart a nicely prepared chart by some students in local dialect, hung in a classroom. On my inquiry the officer reluctantly told me that it contained insinuated blasphemy.
I observed that my troops were imbued with the desire to go across the river in the island opposite the rest house where I had shifted my office and was residing there too. To unearth the secret of these hilarious ventures, I went to the island with an escort. I came across a civilian, Parkash Dutt - the headmaster of Durye School. After exchange of pleasantries I asked him about the blasphemy material recovered from his school. As expected very cunningly he parried the core issue and invited me to his nearby bhasha.
I was perplexed when two beautiful young girls received me in typical Hindu style at the threshold of the house. He narrated a cock and bull story, how Muktis killed his wife for his loyalties to ‘motherland’ and since then he was running from pillar to post with his young daughter and niece. The man was shedding crocodiles’ tears and the girls wailed. The enacted drama was so moving that a mujahid from my escort had tears in his eyes.
I called the local councillor to verify the antecedents of Parkash. I was told that he was a diehard Awami Leaguer. His wife and children are living across the border and the two girls accompanying him are not related to him in any way. Perkash sensed the trouble and before I could evict him from the area, he bolted with the beautiful maids, never to be seen again. The implied interest of my troops in the island weaned suddenly. Once I asked volunteers for a newly established post in the island. I drew blank.
One day I saw death so closely that the memories of which still send shivers down the spine. It was nothing but my foolhardyness. During one of usual evening stroll on the home bank of river, lightly clad and unarmed, unwittingly I touched the hornet nest. I only realised when a group of five Muktis captured me. They blindfolded and tied me to a tree for executing by firing squad or put me to death by ‘practicing bayonet on a live dummy.’ The distance between life and death shrunk ominously. A slight movement of the trigger was enough to take away a 26 years old silly youth’s life.
Suddenly there was a hush hush. Someone came and removed the blindfold from my face and exclaimed, ‘Captain Sahib.’ Before I could regain my numbed senses the man stood before me saying, if I was to be killed, they will have to eliminate him first. Who could be this messiah? I took time to gather my lost wits and recollected that the messiah was none else than my ex captive - Matloob. His son Feroz was also there, but the youngster opposed his father’s verdict vehemently.
I discovered that Matloob was an eloquent demagogue and stole the show once again. First he had wilted me to secure his release and now prevailed upon his kin. I was let off to tell this tale of marked difference in the perceptions of two generations; the one who had struggled to cast off yokes of British and Hindu slavery and the one born independent but led away by relentless secessionist pressure in the post independence era.
In the first week of September I received the promised draft of sixty policemen and their intensive training commenced. But it was really disappointing. Hardly a hand picked were willing to accept their new role to fighting the insurgents independently. Unfortunately they were kept completely in dark before embarked to a different role. The carrot and stick policy while drafting the manpower from Western Wing proved rueful when the balloon went up.
In the first week of October I returned back to Sylhet and few days later was promoted. I took over command of C Coy from Major Ghulam Rusal. The company had just arrived at Sylhet (Solitikar) Airfield from the north to recupe with a spate of new responsibilities. By the time I settled in new role, Indian random belligerence had turned into naked aggression. Some of the important border towns of Tahirpur, Chattak and Sunamjang had already fallen to the Indians.
My battalion was placed under command of a newly raised 202 Brigade. Brigadier Saleemullah was pulled out from Marshal Law duties to assume the command of dummy brigade on 1st October. He was assigned rather impossible task of holding 105 km front from Latu to Snamjung, defending all the main approaches to Sylhet from north and NE. Other than my battalion one Mujahid Battalion, three companies EPCAF, two companies Khyber Rifles and one company of Bajour Scouts were placed at the disposal of the brigade.
There were no tanks and no anti-aircraft guns. Only five artillery pieces against a regiment of eighteen guns were given to the brigade. Extended frontage caused total depletion of scant artillery resources. The guns were dished out to battle localities in ones and twos in total disregard to the principles of artillery employment.
According to the fresh allocation of tasks, my battalion was given 55 km front against 3600 yards frontage as per our tactical doctrine. All the four approaches to Sylhet from north and NE were to be defended by 31 Punjab. My company was detached and placed under the Brigade Headquarters, located close to the airfield. CO had no option but to deploy the regular troops astride the main approaches and cover the yawning gaps between each coy with assortments of para military forces. Thus the battalion was spread over the frontage in a thin line with no reserves.
My company had a 10 km area to defend, nearly fifteen times more than an infantry company’s capabilities. My primary task was to guard the only airfield in the area and also defend the shortest but less expected Lathi - Sylhet approach. EPCAF and Khyber Rifles elements beefed up my defences. To compensate for the dearth of the mines and booby traps, we were asked to lay panjees7. 8 Indian Mountain Division, spearheaded by 59 Mountain Brigade was waiting for the final onslaught.
It was 21st November, the Eid-ul-Fitr was being celebrated throughout the Muslim world with religious fervour. We had barely finished our Eid prayers, when my forward positions reported Indians concentration, requesting for artillery fire. The artillery duel commenced and continued till afternoon.
Indians launched a two-pronged attack on 31 Punjab front after midnight. A Coy in Latu - Dakshinbhag area and B Coy SW of Umagar - Kalegram were attacked simultaneously. A Coy despite heavy odds under Major Sarwer held its grounds. The second prong on Major Azhar Alvi’s B Coy was more lethal. The mujahids guarding the coy’s left flank abandoned their positions and joined invaders. B coy was mauled completely. Major Alvi and his men laid their lives. Only few stragglers could reach the Battalion Headquarters at Cherkhai to tell the tale.
A Coy positions were readjusted in Charkhai - Rajaganj area to deny Indian further breakthrough by mid-day 22 November. CO 31 Punjab had nothing left with him to influence the battle. Counter attack by milking troops from different position on the night 22/23 November gained a foothold. But by the dawn a determined Indian attack nearly annihilated the troops in the foothold. We lost over seventy men, including Major Sarwer and 2nd Lieut. Danial Utard. Major Ghulam Rusal and Lieut. Afazal Hazir and more than 50 men were injured.
My front was rather quiet, except Indian artillery intermittent shelling and IAF merciless pounding of different localities including the town and field hospital became a daily routine. There were reports about Indian concentration in area of Kunkhola and Gurukchi, opposite my platoon nearly 12 km ahead of my main defence.
The news of all out war and ‘successful’ pre-emptive air strikes by PAF from the Western Front on 4 December was received with a sigh of relief. The marooned troops in Eastern Theatre were jubilant, as it they were sick of gradual attrition of past nine months. Very few could profess the doomsday lurching around them. The news of capture of Chamb (now Iftikharabad) and Amritsar bolstered our sagging morale but it gave a worst blow when turned out to be cruel joke.
The entire province was devoid of air cover. The only twelve PAF fighters (F/86) at Dacca were grounded as the air base runway was damaged beyond repairs by IAF in first five days of war, notwithstanding heavy losses inflicted upon the aggressors. Thus IAF had complete monopolized the skies. Lack of antiaircraft guns made the situation gloomier.
At about 4 PM on 7 December my troops spotted enemy helicopters flying at a safe height towards SE heading towards Surma River rail/road Bridge south of town. I was ordered by the brigade major (BM) to take reconnaissance petrol and find out more about the helicopter movement. I commandeered a civilian pickup and rushed towards possible helicopter landing site. Luckily the landing was far away from the River Bridge. Nine to ten helicopters had landed, after off loading the troops flew back to ferry the second contingent. Later on the landing force was identified as 5 Gurkha Rifles with approximately 400 men including the commanding officer.
The new development was really threatening. The possible objectives of this force were to capture of ‘Y’ junction south of Sylhet and the River Bridge intact. The successful culmination of which could have cut off withdrawal route of 31 Punjab and also denied 313 Brigade entry to the town from the south for eventual Sylhet Fortress battle.
To contain the enemy at the landing site, we resorted to an unorthodox method. A lone gun from Cherkhai was pulled out and brought to my location. Major Ghafoor a gunner officer on intelligence duties was tasked to pound enemy landing force, which I indicated to him on map. The enemy suffered heavy casualties by our accurate shelling. It forced him to dig down. Fortunately it never came out. Our forces in Charkhai and 313 Brigade in the south withdrew on 14 December unscathed for the final Sylhet Fortress Battle.
The commanding officer of 5 GR, Lt. Col AB Harolikar won coveted award of Maha Vir Chakra (equivalent to our Halil-e-Jurrat). The casualties due to shelling provided him excuse simulating a hopeless situation and being subjected to repeated attacks by us, which were repulsed by his gallant Gurkhas. Indian high command constituted an inquiry against the recipient of MVC, when facts were revealed after the surrender.
We could hardly listen to the Radio Pakistan news bulletins. The distances involved and outdated relaying system at Dacca was a bane. Listening to BBC or All India Radio was most depressing. Both were relaying hard facts difficult to swallow. It was more disheartening to visit Brigade Headquarters, where one could get a current overview of entire War Theatre. It was demoralizing to see red arrows depicting enemy forward thrust closing on Dacca and blue goose eggs representing our dispositions were squeezing and vanishing.
By 7 December our fates were completely sealed. War on western front ran into stalemate. Our Eastern front was at the verge of capitulation. Enemy’s psychological propaganda was at full swing. Indian Army Chief was demanding surrender from the besieged troops through his repeated radio broadcast. Trailing behind was a humiliating defeat - a betrayal to the innumerable sacrifices rendered by a tenacious fighting machine against heavy odds.
Then came 16 December 1971. A short winter day appeared unusually long and gloomy. As the day wore away, the screen tea gardens of Sylhet turned into somber paleness. The sun slowly slipped down in the west. Gradually, the flaming horizon was wrapped in a thick dark blanket, studded with twinkling stars of nursery rhymes. The battle front lay quiet and dormant. The cracking sound of small arms fire petered into mysterious silence. No zooming of enemy artillery guns. No strafing and bombing by enemy air force.
I got into my bunker rather earlier but could not sleep. The cold bleak night was too depressing. The uncertainties were haunting us. The day’s lull added to our apprehensions. Every face indexed a question. Is a storm in the offing?
I don’t know when I slept. It was around 6:30 in the morning when sound of field phone woke me. Naib Subedar Sardar Ali, commanding a forward defended locality was on line. Without usual pleasantries or salutation he jolted me, ‘Sir, an Indian officer wants to speak to you.’ Surprised and infuriated, I asked, ‘An Indian officer! How the hell is he there with you. Has your post fallen to Indians’ No sir. back came the reply. ‘My post holds on, Dacca has surrendered yesterday!’ This was the storm that rocked us in the hush silence of 17 December morning.
The war was lost, while the battles were still raging on! Sylhet Garrison surrendered without testing enemy strength in the much awaited Battle of Sylhet Fortress.
1971 India-Pakistan War: The Air War - Case West[SIZE=+3]The Western Air Situation[/SIZE]
Pakistani military analysts writing after the War tried to make out that the Pakistani Air Force (PAF) was heavily outnumbered even in the West. One writer claims that Pakistan had just 10 squadrons against 44 fielded by India. Such absurd assertions notwithstanding, fact is in 1971 the Indian Air Force (IAF) had a total of about 34 effective combat squadrons plus three under strength Canberra bomber squadrons and one AN-12 transporter squadron, which as it turned out played a remarkable role as modified bombers during the War. Of these Indian squadrons, ten were in the East (plus one Canberra squadron) and four were kept as reserves for protecting the inner cities. This meant the IAf had about 20 front-line combat squadrons in the West. Some of the front-line Indian squadrons were broken up and posted at different stations. This could be one reason for confusion on the Pakistani air intelligence side - and considerable exaggeration.
The Pakistanis, according to the IISS (International Institute of Strategic Studies) Military Balance 1971, had 19 squadrons including two B-57B light bomber and one recce squadron. According to our studies, the Pakistanis had about 14 effective combat squadrons in the West excluding the B-57B bombers and recce aircraft. However, PAF squadrons tended to have more aircraft per squadron than the IAF. This was further bolstered by the acquisition of an unspecified number of F-86 Sabres, Mirage IIIs, Starfighters (from Jordan) and about 15 Chinese F-6s in the months prior to the war. These aircraft were not accounted for the IISS in its 1971 Military balance or in any other report. Also, the serviceability of PAF Sabres was much higher - meaning more aircraft could be fielded. The Indians had 16 aircraft per combat squadron but the effective availability during the war was 12 per squadron. Bomber and transporter squadron had 10 aircraft each of which about 6 to 8 were serviceable at any given time. Many PAF squadrons, in contrast, had as many as 25 aircraft. Thus, while the PAf was outnumbered in the West, at no point was it ever fighting against overwhelming odds.
More important, the PAF on the whole was far better equipped to fight a modern air war than the IAF. The Pakistanis, for instance, had very effective air-to-air missiles which the Indians lacked. American made Sidewinder missiles were fitted on Chinese-made F-6 aircraft, on Sabres and on Starfighters. These were accurate missiles and accounted for at least three kills by PAF fighters in air-to-air combat. The Indians had only their guns and cannons to rely on. The Soviet-made MiG-21 was the only aircraft in the IAF's inventory fitted with missiles. But the missiles - the infamous K-13 - were a poor copy of the American Sidewinders and were so useless that they were scrapped after the war.
The other major advantage, and a critical one, the Pakistanis had was their radar and communication system built by the Americans. In most parts, particularly Punjab, the PAF had a real time radar surveillance system, the ability to track low flying aircraft coming over Pakistan and the means to guide their aircraft right to intruding enemy aircraft. India had nothing in comparison. Instead of low level radar, the IAF had to rely on men posted near the borders. Every time a suspected enemy aircraft flew over, the observation post had to call in on their high frequency radio sets to warn the sector controllers. Even the medium and high level radar cover available to the IAF was poor with the result that each forward base had to earmark between one to two combat squadrons just for air defence. It was a primitive and wasteful system - and the Pakistanis knew it. The technologically inferior but numerically superior Indian Air Force could be tackled quite easily by a smaller but more modern force. This is what prompted the PAF to launch pre-emptive strikes against forward Indian air bases on 3 December 1971.
[SIZE=+1]
IAF Gnats in their Hardened Shelters[/SIZE][SIZE=+3]IAF Counter Strike[/SIZE]
Within 30 minutes of the Pakistani President General Yahya Yahya Khan's declaration of war against India at 1630 hours on 3rd December 1971, Pakistani fighter bombers struck five Indian airfields - Srinagar, Avantipur, Pathankot, Amritsar and the advanced landing ground at Faridkot. More strikes by PAF B-57 bombers followed at night against Ambala, Agra, Halwara, Amritsar, Pathankot, Srinagar, Sirsa, Adampur, Nal, Jodhpur and Jamnagar. Not a single aircraft was destroyed in these raids and runways damaged were repaired within a matter of hours.
[SIZE=+1]
IAF Hunters On Bombing Run[/SIZE]The IAF's counter strike in the west was mounted on much greater scale than in the east. Within hours of the first PAF strike, converted An-12s from No.44 Squadron (led by Wg Cmdr Vashist) struck ammunition dumps in the Changa Manga forests. In one of the first counter air sorties of the war, Sukhois from No.222 Squadron struck Risalwala air field, while aircraft from the No.101 attacked Pasrur. The No.101 was to later become involved in providing support to the 10 Infantry Division in the Sialkot Sector, eventually destroying over 60 enemy tanks. Keamri oil installations near Karachi harbour were struck twice on the 4th by a three ship Hunter formations. And No.27 Squadron's Hunters continuously strafed enemy positions around Poonch and Chhamb. The four antiquated Harvard/Texans of the IAF also joined in ground support missions, their slow speed being particularly useful in hitting enemy gun emplacements in the valleys and gorges of Kashmir. Three counter air strikes were mounted on the 4th by Hunters of No.20 Squadron against PAF airfields at Peshawar, Chaklala and Kohat. The raids left 8 aircraft destroyed on the ground, including at least 1 Mirage III. Maruts from No.10 Squadron were heavily involved in counter air operations, hitting targets upto 200 miles inside Pakistani territory.
The second day of the war began with a Canberra strike against Masroor air base and other strategic installations around Karachi. A force of eight Canberras flying lo-lo over the Arabian sea set strategic and military installations around Karachi alight. A similar raid was mounted on the 6th. The success of these missions being confirmed by Photo Recon. Canberras reporting "the biggest blaze ever seen over South Asia". On the 5th , one four-ship formation from No.20 struck Chaklala for a second time in as many days destroying a C-130 and an Twin Otter on the ground. A second four-ship formation went for radar installation around Lahore and Walton. And a third raid by No.20 was mounted against the radar site at Sakesar, unfortunately two Hunters were lost during this mission. Later that day Maruts from the Nos. 10 and 220 Squadrons, and their MiG escorts moved against rail heads at Sundra, Rohri and Mirpur Khas. Between the 5th and the 12th , two Sukhoi squadrons flying form Halwara and Adampur repeatedly struck railway marshalling yards around Lahore.
One of the most celebrated actions of the 5th and 6th December is contribution of four Hunters from the ATW in the defeat of a Pakistani armoured force at Longewala. A previous section covers this in great detail. The AN-12s were also quite busy on the 6th. A bombing raid by the AN-12s early in the day destroyed a Pakistani brigade in the Haji Pir salient. Later that day HQ 18 (Pakistan) Division at Fort Abbas was bombed, as were areas around Bhawalpur.
The 7th of December got off to a rather bizarre start; a Marut from the No.220 Squadron, on its way back from a bombing raid against Rohri, actually engaged and brought down with cannon fire an F-86 sent up to intercept it. Surprisingly no Maruts were ever lost to enemy aircraft, although four were downed by ground fire. Two days later an enemy Shenyang F-6 was to be brought down by a ground attack aircraft - this time a Su-7 from No.32 Squadron. Between the 7th and the 12th, Sukhoi and Mystere Squadrons were engaged in support of I and XI Corps in the Fazilka-Ferozepur sector. The Indian Army's efforts in the Fazilka area were also assisted by bombing raids by No.44 Squadron's AN-12s. A four-ship formation flying at 180 ft above sea level struck Pakistani installations across from Fazilka on the 9th.
As fighting in the west intensified, the Pakistanis launched an offensive against Poonch on the 10th. To break up this offensive Canberras dropped 28,000 lbs. of ordnance on the enemy. On the 11th, in even larger interdiction sorties the Canberras delivered 36,000 lbs. of ordnance against enemy emplacements and tank farms. Despite the damage, the Canberras inflicted on the enemy, four of the force were lost to ground fire.
The war in 1971 revealed the true air-air combat capabilities of the MiG-21, altering perceptions held about it as an outcome of its disappointing performance in the Arab-Israeli war of 1967. The MiGs on both fronts had ample opportunity to engage the enemy in aerial combat. The five squadrons that served on the western front conducted frequent armed reconnaissance missions deep into enemy territory to lure out PAF fighters. All Su-7 and Marut raids were given MiG-21 cover. Unfortunately for the Indian pilots who flew in the northern sector (Western Air Command) there was little by way of aerial engagements. On the 11th a Gnat of the No.23 Squadron engaged and severely damaged a Mirage over Pathankot. Those who flew with the South Western Air Command were luckier. On the 12th a Jordanian F-104A Starfighter, on loan to the PAF was shot down by cannon fire by a MiG-21FL of No.47 Squadron flying from Jamnagar.
A Marut strike against Naya Chor on the 16th was intercepted by three PAF Shenyang F-6s. In the ensuing dogfight one of the F-6's was brought down by cannon fire from one of the two MiG escorts from the No.29 Squadron. No Indian aircraft were lost in the engagement and the Maruts were able to hit their targets. The following morning a low flying Starfighter was destroyed by a MiG-21 scrambled from Utterlai. A few hours later MiG-21 escorts of a Marut mission near Umarkot destroyed a pair of Starfighters.
While the hi performance MiGs were shooting down enemy fighters, the lumbering Antonovs were contributing more than their share to victory in the West. The Rohri railway yards which had remained under attack from day one of the war were hit by a pair of An-12s at dusk on the 13th. The following day the Antonovs delivered their coup-de-main against the enemy's fighting capabilities. On the evening of the 14th a three-ship formation of the Antonovs flying from Jodhpur struck the Sui Gas Plant. The damage caused by these aircraft was so extensive that it took six months to restore gas production at Sui to even 50% of capacity. Happily all three aircraft taking part in the mission were recovered safely, landing at Utterlai. Sadly however, that very night, Fg Offr N.S.Sekhon of the No.18 Squadron lost his life as he gallantly engaged 6 enemy Sabres over Srinagar by himself. Before being shot down Sekhon's Gnat managed to score hits on two of the enemy for which he was awarded the Param Vir Chakra posthumously.
[SIZE=+1]Param Vir Chakra winner Fg. Officer N.S.Shekhon and the Gnat[/SIZE]The An-12s flew in the bombing role for the last time on the 17th. A mixed formation of Canberras and Antonovs commanded by Vashist sortied against Skardu air field in Pakistani occupied Kashmir. Of the thirty six bombs dropped on the runway by the Antonovs, twenty eight hit the target while two fell within yards of it (this was confirmed by a PR sortie later the same day). On the way back, Vashist's aircraft was chased by two Mirages. In order to evade them he climbed down into a valley and kept circling for twenty minutes until the Mirages gave up and left. The most astonishing thing about the An-12 bombing raids is that none of the eleven (ten bombers and one flying command post) converted aircraft were lost, although many were peppered by ack ack. The ease with which these rather slow aircraft could strike deep into enemy territory is testimony to the ineffectiveness of the Pakistani Air Force during the winter of 1971. Only the absence of modern weapons delivery systems for its air-to-surface weapons prevented the Indian Air Force from causing more damage than it did.
[SIZE=+3]Who Won the Air War?[/SIZE]
One of the last enduring debates on the 1971 War is the outcome of the air war. Both sides continue to claim that it won the air war. This debate continues because victory in the air is more difficult to quantify than victory on land or sea. In the land and sea wars, India emerged as the clear victor both in terms of objectives attained and losses/gains versus the enemy. In the air war, even estimates of losses on both sides are widely divergent. Immediately after the war, the official Indian Government figures given out were 86 Pakistan Air Force (PAF) aircraft destroyed as against 42 Indian Air Force (IAF) lost. The Pakistanis later claimed that they had actually won the air war by destroying over a 100 Indian aircraft while losing only 36 of their own. The truth, as usual, is somewhere in between.
Unlike in 1965, the Indian Air Force in 1971 handled claims of aerial victories by its pilots with great maturity. No "kills" were awarded until all claims could be verified, preferably by photo reconnaissance missions. Almost immediately after the War was over, the Air Chief asked the Halwara station commander, Air Marshal C.V.Gole, to visit every IAF station in the West to ascertain the performance of various squadrons. "Later, we had access to other information as well and we worked out a pretty accurate picture of losses on both sides", he explains. But discrepancies could well remain. For instance, Gole recalls that one SAM battery had fired missiles at a couple of attacking Pakistani B-57 bombers. One was hit and streaming smoke. A few hours later, some villagers called to say that they had found the debris of the Pakistani aircraft. On investigation it was found that what remained was not the debris of an aircraft but that of a missile. The hit was not taken into account. It was only much after the war that some Pakistani report spoke about a B-57 pilot who had become "Shaheed" after he tried to bail out his burning aircraft but could not make it.
Pakistani claims of their own losses are less than reliable. The main cause of this confusion has to do with various "Official" histories of the PAF quoting different figures. It has been estimated by some observers, based on signal intercepts from the PAF, that the PAF lost at least seventy-two aircraft (including at least fifty-five combat types). Pakistan itself admits to the loss of twenty-nine combat aircraft on the ground. Only 16 were claimed to have been shot down over India. Add to this the 13 Sabres destroyed by the PAF itself at Dhaka. Even then the figure comes to 58. However, a lot of this is inaccurate.
After almost a year's of research, we at SAPRA INDIA believe that the losses of combat aircraft on both sides were as follows:
1971 India-Pakistan War: The Air War - Case WestThe PAF lost many more aircraft on the ground not only because the Indians launched many more counter air operations than the Pakistanis but also because the PAF itself destroyed 13 of its Sabres in Dhaka within a few days of the war. PAF's No. 14 squadron with about 18 aircraft felt it had been abandoned by its higher command and left to face the onslaught of ten full Indian squadrons. After a couple of gallant actions by Pakistani pilots, the PAF commanders in East Pakistan appear to have decided that the game was not worth the effort. The last aerial engagement in East Pakistan took place on 4 December.
Even if the Pakistani claim that the Indians lost more aircraft is accepted, does it suggest that the Pakistanis won the air war? The answer is a clear no. Because war, in the ultimate analysis, is not a numbers game. Winning a war has to do with achieving clear objectives. For the IAF, the aim was twofold: first, to prevent the PAF from messing with the Indian Army's advances, logistics and launching points; and second, to seriously impair Pakistan's capacity to wage war. The PAF's job was to do the opposite. The pre-emptive air strikes on 3rd December were aimed at knocking out a good part of the IAF while it was on the ground. This failed for the simple reason that the Indians had learnt their lessons of the 1965 war and had constructed fortified pens and bunkers to store their aircraft. More important, young IAF fliers proved they had the grit to go out and fight, even if it meant losing one's life.
By the end of the first week of the war, PAF fighters in the West appeared to have lost their will to fight. By this time, the IAF was repeatedly hitting secondary targets including railway yards, cantonments, bridges and other installations as well as providing close air support to the Army wherever it was required. The most dangerous were the close air support missions which involved flying low and exposing aircraft to intense ground fire. The IAF lost the most aircraft on these missions as is proved by the high losses suffered by IAF Sukhoi-7 and Hunter squadrons. But their pilots flew sortie after sortie keeping up with the Army and disrupting enemy troop and tank concentrations.
Once it was known that the Indian Army was knocking at the gates of Dhaka, the PAF in the West virtually gave up flying. During the last few days of the war, the IAF brass ordered attacks on PAF airfields with the sole purpose of drawing out their aircraft. But that rarely succeeded as the PAF aircraft for the most part remained secured inside their pens, refusing to come out and fight. The strongest indictment of the Pakistani Air Force was made not by an Indian but by the Pakistani leader, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, who took over from General Yahya Yahya Khan after the 1971 defeat. On taking over, he made a speech in which he castigated the PAF chief Air Marshal Rahim Khan and several other officers by name.
A better analysis of effectiveness of the two air forces is provided by the losses per sortie figure. The IAF flew at least double the number of combat sorties per day than the PAF, thereby exposing itself to ground fire and enemy interdiction. Despite this, the IAF's attrition rate of 0.86 per 100 sorties during the 1971 War compares favourably with the Israeli rate of 1.1 in the Yom Kippur War. The PAF's overall attrition rate works out to 2.47 (including transporters and recce aircraft lost on the ground). If aircraft destroyed on the ground are not taken into account, the rate works out to 1.12, which is still very high given that PAF aircraft never really stood back to fight.
The question of loss is important but, in the ultimate analysis, secondary. Achieving air superiority cost the IAF dearly in 1971 but in the end it managed to achieve complete dominance over the skies in both East and West Pakistan.
By Indranil Banerjie, Rupak Chattopadhyay and Air Marshal (Retired) C.V.Gole
This article is the result of over 8 months of often frustrating research. Both the Indian and Pakistani air forces have tended to fudge figures and accounts. It took time and much effort to sift through the claims, counter-claims and various accounts of the 1971 air war to arrive at some basic conclusions.
The Daily Star - Details NewsForget 1971, says Pakistan
Syed Badrul Ahsan
PAKISTAN has asked us to let bygones be bygones, to forget 1971. Now, that is indeed a queer proposition to make before a nation that Pakistan's soldiers so happily and brutally went into the job of murdering, raping and maiming over nine months of medieval barbarism. But, of course, we are ready to forget and forgive, ready to turn a new page if only Pakistan's government and its people would do their bit in helping us forget that sordid past. The trouble is their attitude has not helped all these years since the end of Pakistan and the rise of Bangladesh. It is always attitude that matters.
And how it matters was demonstrated beautifully and poignantly by Willy Brandt, that man of peace, when he went and knelt before Israel's Yad Vashem memorial in 1970 as a mark of penance for what Nazi Germany did to six million Jews in the Hitler years.
The German chancellor could well have declined to do that, seeing that he himself had run from the Nazis, that his politics had nothing in common with that of Hitler and his brutal regime. But, then again, Brandt knew that the road to the future would stay blocked until the past had adequately been tackled.
It is a lesson Pakistan and its leaders need to learn from. To be sure, Pakistanis will tell you in their turn that Pervez Musharraf once expressed his regret over any crimes that may have been committed in Bangladesh in 1971. When they do that, you might as well inform them that there is a huge difference between an expression of regret and a clear statement of apology.
When you regret something you have done, you are not exactly contrite over your action. But when you publicly let people know that you are apologetic over a crime or sin you have committed, you give out the good feeling that you have finally been able to catch up with history. More significantly, you have finally adopted the thought that in life morality matters than anything else.
Pakistan's people and its leaders have, to our clear displeasure, never tried to take the high moral ground when it comes to dealing with 1971. The history that is taught in schools is a travesty of the truth. While a detailed analysis is provided of the circumstances leading to the creation of Pakistan in 1947, nothing really is offered as an explanation for the disappearance of East Pakistan in 1971. Or if there is something of an explanation, the clear hint is there that a conspiracy, obviously by non-Pakistanis, broke the country into two. With that kind of approach to history, you only undermine history. An angry Zulfikar Ali Bhutto visited the National Memorial in Savar in June 1974 and made it clear he saw nothing wrong in what his country had done to Bengalis in 1971.
You would have expected a different kind of response from Bhutto, for he was an educated man and comfortable in the ways of the world. Yes, he did have a big hand in the genocide, but he could have redeemed himself if he had, on that trip, apologised in unambiguous terms to the Bengalis. He did not and neither did any of his successors. His daughter Benazir, a student at Harvard in 1971, scrupulously refused to believe the reports of the killings carried by the western media at the time.
All that mattered was what her father told her in his letters. And she believed him. To the end of her life, you might reasonably conclude, she thought the Bangladesh crisis was not brought on by the army or her father but by Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his Awami League.
Naturally, therefore, you do not expect anything but professions of regret from Pakistan about the atrocities of its army in Bangladesh. Or there is the quixotic too. When Ziaul Haq travelled to Dhaka in 1985, he did a good thing of visiting the memorial at Savar. It was one opportunity he could have used to say sorry on behalf of his country. He did not do that. Instead, he told bemused Bengali journalists: "Your heroes are our heroes." So why then did his army go about picking off our freedom fighters and our innocent citizens? Imagine the Japanese telling the Chinese: "The people we massacred in Nanjing in 1937 were our brothers."
We will forget 1971 when Pakistan makes a move to remember it. That remembering ought not to be like Pervez Musharraf's. In his memoirs, the former military ruler notes that he and his fellow soldiers in Rawalpindi wept on the day the Pakistan army surrendered in Bangladesh. That weeping came a little late in the day and for the wrong reasons. For nine months the Pakistanis made Bengalis weep. And then it was their turn to cry, not because they had brutalised Bangladesh but because they had lost East Pakistan.
Roedad Khan, that incorrigible Pakistani bureaucrat, glowed at dawn on March 26, 1971. As Bengalis were shot down, he exclaimed: "Yaar, iman taaza ho gya." Pakistan must someday weep for that comment. And then we will forget.
Syed Badrul Ahsan is Editor, Current Affairs, The Daily Star.
E-mail: [email protected].