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The Siachen rescue

16/5/2012

16 Comments

 
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On the Siachen glacier, named after the pink Sia blossoms that bloom across Ladakh in the summer months, winter had fallen. The flowers had long gone, their plump petals reduced to a brown papery crust that had curled and dropped to the ground. The birds and insects had disappeared too. A thick blanket of snow covered the stumps of dead bushes and smothered all life. It also hid the mouths of deep crevasses and blurred the edges of precipices to the extent that it became impossible to tell where a man could step safely and where the snow would give way under his feet, sending him hurtling down to a nasty death. Movement between the Siachen base camp and Peak 4212 had ceased and would resume only when the summer sun melted the snow next year.

For the ten men of 8 Parachute Regiment, manning Peak 4212, it was going to be the longest six months of their life. Since the winter cut them off completely, they would have to fend for themselves until the snow melted opening the way to the base camp once again. Only then would another company of soldiers replace them and they would trek back to the base camp and eventually head home.

During these lonely months, the only connection the men had to their loved ones were Pista and Pisti - two big Gaddi stray dogs who lived in the base camp and visited them occasionally. The dogs had learnt to carry post to the peak for a reward of fish and meat. Heavy and ferocious, the dogs were however light footed and experts at navigating frozen ice that could crack under a man’s weight. Letters for Peak 4212 would be tied around the dogs’ necks at the base camp and the two would head for the peak, knowing that tinned rations and a warm welcome awaited them there. After spending some time there, they would head back for the base camp, making another trip only when the next consignment of letters arrived.

Lately, a new canine connoisseur of good quality Army rations had joined them. The men had named him Kaju, because of his muddy white tail that curved like a fat cashew. While Pista and Pisti would jump on the men, lick their faces and arch their backs to rub against their trouser legs, Kaju would stay away from such crass displays of affection. He was a loner. Sitting wound up in a tight coil, his big nose tucked inside his tail to avoid the chill, he would patiently wait for food. Any attempts at friendliness were rebuffed with a deep growl. Kaju was doing the long trek only for the meat, and he made no... ahem...bones about that.

Lately, Kaju had started making occasionally lone trips as well. The men would sometimes find him outside their hut barking gruffly to make his presence felt. Desperate for company, they would greet him with generous helpings of tinned meat or fish. He would devour this in large greedy mouthfuls and lick his white enamel plate clean. Then he would shake the snow off his matted fur and make his way back to the base camp. He would never bring any letters but his visits were still welcome. For the lonely men ticking days off on a frayed calendar, he was a sign that life waited for them across the frozen glacier.

One morning, the men set out on a routine patrol lead by their Company Commander, Captain Sameer Singh. Progress was painfully slow. Temperatures on the peak dipped below minus 40 degree celsius and at 21,000 feet, the low oxygen content made breathing difficult. The weight of their triple layered snowsuits and boots made every step an achievement for the men. Covering a distance of 20 meters sometimes took them an hour because of the sheer effort. Tied to each other by ropes, the men made their way through the bleak white landscape. Far in the distance, they could see the huts of the Pakistanis as grey specks in the endless white, which gave purpose to their lonely foray.

Just when they were about to turn back for their camp, the men heard whimpering sounds coming from inside a gaping crevasse. Short and slim built paratrooper Ranjit Rajwada, walked to the edge and peered in. He could make out the fuzzy outline of a big dog stuck 20 meters below on a narrow jutting in the mountainside. It was Kaju. The dog had sensed his presence and was barking piteously now, taking care that the force of his barking did not throw him off the ledge. He had probably fallen into the crevasse on a visit to 4212 and had been lucky enough to land on a ledge that had broken his fall. He was unharmed but there was no way he could have come out on his own. A painful death awaited him.

“We have to get him out Sahabjee,” Paratrooper Hoshiar Singh, a tall Jat with four children in a village in Haryana was publicly exhibiting signs of human feeling. “Are you mad? I can lose a man there,” the Company Commander cut him short. A passionate discussion followed. The general opinion was that the dog couldn’t be left behind. The officer in charge was apprehensive about losing a man for a dog. Besides, it was getting late and they had more than two hours of trek back to the camp. Rajwada, who had been listening to the debate quietly so far, insisted that he should be the one to go down since he was lighter and not married either.

Finally, it was decided that Rajwada would go. A rope was tied around his slim waist and he was slowly lowered onto the vertical face of the mountain. With ice pick in one gloved hand and the thick nylon rope in the other, he climbed down. The sheer drop made it difficult to find a footing and at every step he would have to kick with his boot to make a foot hold in the wall of snow, thus descending into the crevasse one step at a time. After a tricky hour Rajwada finally reached the ledge from where the dog was watching with his tail tucked between his legs. Suddenly there was a sharp cry of pain. Kaju had snapped at Rajwada who was quick to realize it was not possible to hold a big unwilling dog with sharp teeth under the arm and climb out. “Leave him if he is getting aggressive. Just get out, the weather is packing up,” Rajwada heard the Captain say. He could feel the sweat in his palms freezing and needles of ice pricking him like ant bites under his gloves.

He tried making one more attempt to grab the dog but a scared, cold and confused Kaju snarled back, his sharp teeth menacing in the sunlight. “Drop me a rope,” Rajwada yelled. A fat rope slid by and he laced it into a loose lasso. Moving closer to the growling dog, he flung it around his furry neck. Pulling it tight with a yank he looked up and shouted, “Pull”. Before the startled dog knew what was happening the rope had pulled him off the ledge and he was dangling from his neck into the crevasse.

The men pulled with all their might and were startled to find the rope emerge with the big Gaddi dog hanging from his neck. The rope was cut and Kaju sat there, too dazed to move. Meanwhile Rajwada had been pulled up as well. Breathless with the effort of the rescue, eyes watering from the cold, he was nevertheless grinning from ear to ear. “You ass, you nearly broke the bloody dog’s neck,” the Captain laughed in relief. “Sahabjee, you went to an Angreji school but let me tell you the moral of this story,” said the large Hoshiar Singh, towering over his company commander. “Dawg is man’s best frand,” he said. “No you bloody fool, moral of the story is: sometimes man is dawg’s best frand,” the Captain muttered even as his men broke into raucous laughter.

Rajwada watched Kaju lift his tail up in its trademark arch and set off in the direction of the base camp without so much as a wag of thank you. He tied himself back to the retinue of men and they slowly trudged their way back to Peak 4212 in a single file, the rays of the setting sun turned their snowsuits a dull orange. Today, summer didn’t seem so far away
Picture
Picture by Raman Adhikari
Picture
Picture by Raman Adhikari
16 Comments
Mahendra
19/5/2012 09:57:03 am

Wow! Did not know that stray dogs could be used to deliver mail (something that could be experimented with in Kotdwara?)! And how do stray dogs stray up to that altitude?

Amazing that this rescue was pulled off at 21K feet - Rajwada is definitely a better man than I am.

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manoj
19/5/2012 01:58:42 pm

Interesting incident narrated with a powerful writing. On the other hand, look at scooby , another stray(hope Brig sahab is not reading this), who can't even carry a newspaper from gate to the verendah of the house at kotdwar and tears it halfway despite a pack of glucose D awaiting him there.

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noopur
19/5/2012 07:15:30 pm

hats off to the brave men in green , for standing their ground in harsh terrains and keeping their sanity and humanity .....good job Bisht :)

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Gary
19/5/2012 08:35:53 pm

Nice one written well with precision as always

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PJ
19/5/2012 08:52:08 pm

Maybe the forces should hire you Rachna as the resident journo ..... your skills can easily deflect the public attention to where it rightly should be...

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Pushpa Bhandari Bisht
20/5/2012 12:11:33 am

Gypsy wife of a man in olive green, you write straight from the trenches. Loved the comment that preceded the link and of course, the brilliant piece (pics as well) ! Having grown up in what was majorly a cantonment, I have seen these bravehearts from very close quarters too. Great acts of bravery they brush off as routine. A toast to the 8 Parachute Regiment, Ranjit Rajwada , Pista, Pisti and Kaju... a toast to the uninterrupted bravery of all our men in olive green.
As for Scooby, try tinned fish instead of Glucose D, might work.

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Ritha Hegde
20/5/2012 12:12:04 am

Taantaadaaaan.....and the real Rachna is back!!!!!! This was your trademark storytelling back here in this article. Gripping all the way.....
So many new things about the Indian army too. The more I read about the hardships they go through, the respect towards them grows more and more.

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Jhoomar
20/5/2012 01:49:29 pm

Bisht family are dog-lovers at all altitudes. Mausi would love this one, hope she reads it.

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suman thapliyal
21/5/2012 01:10:47 am

Hi! Reading your blog after a long break.You have mentioned 8 para which happens to be my dad's unit.It got converted to mech inf a long time ago, much before India & Pak discovered Siachen.The story and your writing as usual are very interesting!

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RITEN
21/5/2012 04:40:02 pm

I like PJ's recommendation offer of nominating you as a resident J
in Altitudes above 20K//but we would prefer U Rachna to continue to shake up the deserts,jungles,rivers with your characteristic style//once in a while a padyatra to the glacier will do good.
Reminds me of a huge beautiful Dog lost in an Army Exercise whom I stopped,gave him water on my palm,some biscuits and let him sleep in the arctic tent resting his face on my sleeping bag with Coat parkhas thrown//who's afraid of dog hair in High Altitude// next morning when the Gurkhas were climbing up,my guest sensed his master's presence,he just raced to join him,The Company Commander. As I stood waving out to the Guest and his master,Imagine, this dog came galloping to me,licked my hand,tapped upto my shoulder and then raced away to his master
leaving me wondering what is Gratitude and what is Being Human.
Altitude does bring out a certain goodness.Kudos to all the paharhis
out there.

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deepak gera
21/5/2012 05:48:09 pm

Nice pictures, nice article as usual and i second the recommendation of PJ and Riten that rachana be nominated as resident journalist in high altitude and serve as what once JAIMALA used to do in Vividh Bharti for fauji jawans...its a great service and for us 'jeeta jagta darshan'...

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ather
22/5/2012 02:45:52 am

wah wah- Rachna, kya baat hai. You are back to form with a tale that I visualised every step of the way and shared in sentiment. My wife's father is from Ladakh and I hope to visit some day- though I doubt I shall ever reach such heights, not only in terms of the physical geography but also in terms of your writing. A pleasure to read.

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Satyendra Verma
22/5/2012 10:55:41 pm

I so endorse the suggestions for you to be on a payroll of the Army PR to write such stuff !!

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Prithvi
23/5/2012 11:10:30 am

Wah ! Loved reading it again :)

A gem from your future collection of short stories ?

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Tushar Ray
5/6/2012 03:37:18 pm

Nice story..But where are the pics of Pista, Pisti & Kaju? Had done a lot of climbing in my younger days.. Never came across any dogs above snowline.
Though once I was lost alone in the mountains of U.P., due to sudden white-out.. found my way back to the village following a dog, who kept having biscuits from me all the way

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Priya Nagarajan
28/10/2013 06:01:18 pm

Nice piece of writing Rachna! Had heard of Pista and Pisti the courier dogs :-) but not of Kaju and his dare devil rescue. A hearty salute to Rajwada and the 8 parachute regiment!

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    Rachna Bisht Rawat is a full time mom and part time writer. She is married to an Army officer whose work takes the family to some of the most interesting corners of India.

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