03.07.04:
The Battle of Longewala:
The sun did not rise. The blackness of night with no shape
to any horizon shifted to a deep navy blue then a gray dullness that became a
murky, milky off-white as daylight hours came on. You could not see five feet
into it. And, as the morning winter fog emerged over the Thar Desert, it meant
you couldn’t see anything.
The small rocky outcrop rose only a hundred feet over the
sea of sand dunes stretching out west. It was a seething turbulent active sea
of sand. Except that it wasn’t water, it was still fluid enough to be
constantly moved and shifted by the wind. Fine, round particles as old as the
hills. Formed through few billion years of geological activity. Followed by a
few million years of constant grinding, sieving, and shifting by the wind. A
fluid that could be moved by the strong western winds that blew across the Thar
onto the flatness of the Ganges plain. Each gust altered its shape.
The rocky sandstone outcrop was the eastern edge of the
Aravali hills. A range that ran up from Kathiawar and ended at Delhi’s “Ridge”.
On the highest point was the only evidence of human habitation. Civilization
was just a small village. So small that this “village” had but one house and
one well. Even the house was in ruins uninhabited for decades. But it had a
name: Longewala “the Clove Trader”.
It had once been a remote watering post for camel caravans.
Legend had it that the original “longewala” was something of a brigand and this
was his hideout – a remote island in an ocean of sand. No marked route could be
found as the hillock was a small island surrounded by 40-foot high sand dunes
that shifted constantly. Only the original longewala knew of a route going
southwest to the port of Karachi from where he would sail down the Malabar
Coast by Dhow to Calicut to bring the cloves.
The well was a minor miracle. The next well was at least
fifty miles away. A hundred foot shaft had sunk down to a huge subterranean
cavern pool – a remnant of the now dead Saraswati river system.
A low Camel herders tent had been erected by the ruins of
the house. Five camels, four with saddles and the last with a lot of stuff
still tied to their backs slept noisily, huddling together against a wall
seeking protection from the biting chill.
The camel riders sat in a circle on the only roof still
standing in the old ruin. Each faced a cardinal direction and spoke to the
others behind him without taking his eyes off the horizon.
An Indian Gun-post
facing the Thar Desert.
“Do you think we’ll see war, Sir?” asked the new recruit.
“I hope”, said the risaldar, “Khuda Jane.”
“We’re the only camel borne cavalry left in the world, you
know,” said the new recruit. “We’ll be the only camel riders to fight a war in
this 1971.”
“Don’t be too sure,” commented the risaldar, “that’s why
they put us here. We’re too precious for the army to get mauled in war. You
know, all we’re good for today is being the main attraction in the ‘chabees
junwaree’ parade.”
“Sahib, were not the only camel cavalry in the world,” said
the havaldar, pointing out that they had indeed a rival – the camel squadron of
the Pakistani Rangers and their direct counterpart. “If there is any battle for
us, it will only be against Kassim mian, their commander. Nothing other than
Camels – not infantry trucks or tanks- can come across the sand dunes”.
“Listen sir,” interrupted the fourth man, the radio
operator. “I think Kassim Mian is on his
way.”
Everybody stopped to listen in the dull gray dawn as the
wind suddenly dropped and more sounds could be carried from the border in the
west.
“What no jingle of camel bells, Kassim mian?” shouted the
risaldar towards any approaching enemy, “We never muffle our bells – not even
while attacking”.
“No sir,” said the radioman. He had the keenest hearing.
“Sounds more like tanks. Pattons.” He reached for his radio transmitter.
The wind started up again blowing from the west now. It
carried the sounds from much further off across the frigid desert. The sound of
powerful engines could be heard, they continued for a few minutes then stopped.
Moments later a loud blast and the flash of an explosion penetrated the gloom.
The Engines started up again.
“Engineers sir,” said the havaldar in surprise. “Clearing
the minefields”.
“Must be a big attack if it is being led by Engineers. I
think I hear many more tanks two or three miles behind the engineers. At least
two squadrons.” Said the risaldar. "Get Jodhpur,” he told the radioman.
The BSF contingent’s immediate task for the day had been to
act as plane spotters and warn Air force Station Jodhpur of any low flying air
raid being mounted by the Pakistani Air force. The tanks were a surprise to
them. The fog got a bit brighter as day broke. But it was still a thick soup.
As it got warmer the fog bank lifted a few feet over the desert and the dunes
were visible under the thick billowing blanket of fog that was lifting. From
their viewpoint, the small BSF outpost saw with horror the enemy attack
approaching them. Less than two miles away, an engineering detachment was
steadily clearing a path through the minefield and laying steel plates where
the sand was too soft to hold up the tanks. Three tanks and a mine clearing
tracked vehicle accompanied the engineers. Further off about seven miles away
towards the horizon two long lines of tanks could be seen moving up single
file. They appeared over the crests of the sand dunes, disappearing down into
the 40-foot hollows and re-appearing over the next sand dune crest.
“You wanted war,” remarked the risaldar dryly to the new
recruit. “Now you are going to become shaheed (a martyr)”.
They got out whatever weaponry they carried – the field
machine gun, a light mortar and a bazooka – the only one that would be
effective against tanks. With these they could put up an honorable defense
against quite a large infantry force but not tanks.
‘Well, let’s take as many of them as we can with us’, said
the havaldar cheerfully.
“Got Jodhpur?” asked the risaldar.
“Yes sir,” said the
radioman. “They’re mounting an Air strike”.
“Well they’ll have to put in a bloody big show. And soon.
There must be over a hundred tanks coming in. Perhaps many more being loaded
off the railway at Rahim Yar Khan. If they get to the main highway, nothing is
going to stop them moving at sixty miles an hour towards Jodhpur.”
“But there was no intelligence on an armored attack across
the Thar, that too this far south from the Punjab’ Sir”, said the new recruit.
“Yes they expected another big tank battle like Chamb-Jurian
in ’65. Massive it was, I was there.” Put in the havaldar.
Though a paramilitary force, the Border Security Force Camel
Corps were an elite select unit. Recruits were taken as much for their military
bearing and smartness as for personal acts of valor shown in the battlefield.
The Risaldar and Havaldar were veterans of the Armored Corps and had both
fought in the biggest tank battle ever fought in the 1965 Indo-Pak war. The
nearest ever tank battle of comparable size had been between Montgomery and
Rommel at El Alamein in 1943. This battle of Chamb-Jurian in ‘65 had involved
over a thousand tanks – The Pakistanis putting in more than three-quarter of
their armored strength with the aim of capturing the “chicken’s neck” which
would effectively cut Kashmir off from India. They had not succeeded then.
Now, in December 1971, the fourth day of the war, the Indian
Armored strength was probably concentrated in northern Punjab and the Jammu
plain and the Western Air force was also probably concentrated there to give
air support to the expected battle. Instead, here, the Pakistanis had mounted a
surprise intrusion into the desert state of Rajasthan several hundred miles
south.
“Air strike coming in five minutes, sir,” announced the
radioman. “We’re to guide the first strike in.”
“Hope it’s not too late, get ready chaps,” said the risaldar
as three tanks headed away from the formation towards them. “Hold fire till
they get close enough”.
“You give us the firing command, sir”, said the havaldar.
“You get first blood, sonny,” the risaldar commanded the new
recruit. He was not such a greenhorn though. A qualified marksman too. “Get the
commander of the right side tank. He’s standing up in the hatch like it’s a
picnic ride. Wait till they all get into bazooka range. Got Jodhpur?” he asked
the radioman.
“Yes sir. I’m switching to the attack sorties RT frequency
to guide them in.”
“Tell them to get the three tanks coming at us first.”
The Hunters drop
their cargo leading to Crippled Tanks of the Pakistan Army..
The actual battle as seen by the small BSF unit took the
better part of the morning. Beyond the first few minutes, the BSF boys didn’t
actually get to fight much but were ringside spectators to most of the action
that followed.
Three things happened almost together. The new recruit got
the first tank commander first shot just below his chest ribbons. He fell dead
over the hatch. The bazooka got the second tank. It came apart at the seams, the moving turret
flying thirty feet into the air as its stock of ammunition exploded. Just as
the third tanks turret gun wheeled around to get a bead on the direction of
fire from the BSF unit, it suddenly went up in flames as a direct hit from an
air-launched anti-tank missile got it square on.
A split second later, a speeding IAF jet roared over them
just fifty feet over the ground. It wheeled around and came screaming back
seemingly straight at the BSF boys.
“Hey! Not at us!” exclaimed the new recruit. But the jet
fired another rocket at the first tank that was trying to recover from the
commander’s demise and join the battle. The tank was immobilized in one go. It
flew on over the BSF unit giving a waggle of its wings as it flew over them in
salute. Then it wheeled around and proceeded to attack the main column that had
already advanced some distance over the horizon.
The path turned
into a killing field for the advancing attack …
“Hunters, Sir,” said the havaldar identifying the attacking
IAF Hawker-Sidley jet, which in 1971 were already obsolete. “Trust the Air
force to put in these ancient crates into action.” The plane made several
passes over the tanks firing its tank killing rockets at each pass and scoring
all the time.
“That too a trainer,” said the risaldar observing the two
seat configuration in the cockpit. “Wonder what a single plane can do? There
must be a hundred tanks coming in, at least. Don’t know how many more behind
them.”
Hunter unleashes Matra
10 Rockets in a steep dive..
But as he spoke another IAF jet roared overhead to join the
attack. This time it was a Hawker Sidley Hunter too, but a true combat plane –
a single seat ground attack jet. A few miles away, the lead plane was wheeling
around for yet another pass. This time the second aircraft joined him and
selecting individual targets, they incapacitated two more. Before the end of
the run, he opened up with his two 50 mm cannons and strafed the column. He was
aiming specially at the caterpillar tracks of the tanks. Deprived of power on
one side, the tanks were crippled and moved round in circles. Those who tried
to swerve away from the strafing of the jets got stuck in the soft sand dunes,
their tracks uselessly churning up small dust storms.
Like snakes
writhing in their death throes….Tank
tracks at Longewala. Photographic
reconnaissance image taken at the time showing the desperate last minute
manoeuvres by Pakistani tanks in the Longewala sector. Circles show destroyed
Pakistani tanks
“What’s incredible” said the risaldar when the all got up to
relax, have a smoke and watch the fight like a group of football fans, “is that
the Pakis don’t’ have any Air Defense – not even an anti-aircraft ack-ack.”
“Well, the Hunters will take out quite a lot,” said the
havaldar.
“Already over a dozen Pattons are out of action”, said the
new recruit. He was watching keenly and keeping score of this strange battle
between so many ground borne juggernauts and the two eagles raining down
destruction from the skies. “Some of their engines are still running, but the
tracks on one side have been immobilized and they are spinning round in
circles.”
“Well”, said the risaldar, “ if the IAF can push them back
behind the border, a lot of Messes and Military Units are going to get
Pakistani Patton Tanks as Trophies outside their gates. Must make sure that we
get one for our JCO Mess at Jaisalmer. They can’t refuse. After all it’s we who
sent the first warning out.”
The first jet was now flying back over them towards his
airbase. He must have used up all his ammunition. As he went over the BSF unit
he again wiggled his wings in an acknowledging salute. The second plane carried
on the attack, repeatedly flying strafing runs using both the surface-to-air
missiles and his 50 mm cannon. After a dozen passes he too wheeled around and
headed back to the Airbase.
But it was not the end of the attack, within a few minutes,
the first jet, the two-seat trainer, returned to the attack and continued to
rain mayhem on the Pakistani armored column. Precisely as he turned in to make
his last pass, he was joined by the second jet, now refueled and re-armed. He
too made about a dozen passes over the tanks before wheeling away home. Again
the cycle was repeated as the first jet returned for the third time. To the
enemy it would have appeared that there was a whole squadron attacking, but it
was in fact, only two planes – old obsolete Hunters, that too one a trainer.
The damage the
Hunters could inflict …..
By now there were only smoking wrecks strewn across the
desert that was visible to the BSF unit. No tanks were moving forward, many
were retreating. Obviously the surprise-armored attack at Longewala was being
aborted. But this did not stop the two IAF jets from continuing to press the
attack. The battle was moving further away, now the tanks were being attacked
on the Pakistani side of the border. No further action was visible other than
the flashes, explosions and roar of the Hunters over the border.
Engineers prepare
to record and capture the War Trophies …
After each sortie, the first Trainer Jet would fly over the
BSF boys low and wiggle his wings at them.
“What does he want us to do?” the risaldar wondered.
“He’s already told me,” replied the radioman. “He said to
open the best bottle of scotch or other booze we can buy and have a drink on
his account and send him the bill to IAF Jodhpur, Sir.”
“I hope you got his name for that,” mentioned the risaldar.
“Yes sir, it’s Wg.Cdr. Conquest and the other is Sq.Ldr.
Tully,” replied the radioman. “He’s telling me that on their next run they will
be hitting the railway yard at Rahim-yar-khan. They can see many Tanks still
being off loaded from the rail flatcars.”
Brave Pilots …
Powerful Plane … Efficient Ground Crew is what worked
“Any other planes coming in to help them?” asked the
risaldar.
“No sir, so far it’s just the two of them.”
Actually it was all they could see. There were by now
several points along the front being attacked by more Hunters and a few
Indian-designed HF-24 Maruts.
There was also a couple of very brave Indian Army Pilots
flying a flimsy delicate HAL Kriskak observation plane and directing the air
attack.
“OK, OK,” said the risaldar, “take out the booze, bhai.”
……………………………………………………………………..
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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During the night of the 4th, Lt. Veer's platoon conducting a patrol detected noises across the border that suggested a large number of armored vehicles approaching.[12] These were soon confirmed by reports - from the Army's Air Observation Post aircraft flown by Maj. Atma Singh - in the area of a 20 km long armored column on the track leading to the post advancing in the general direction of the Longewala post.
As the offensive approached the lone outpost, Pakistani artillery opened up across the border with medium artillery guns, killing five of the ten camels from the BSF detachment.
In the morning the Indian Air Force was finally able to
direct some HF-24 Maruts and Hawker Hunter aircraft to
assist the post; they were not outfitted with night vision equipment, and so
were delayed from conducting combat missions until dawn. With daylight,
however, the IAF was able to operate effectively, with the strike aircraft
being guided to the targets by the airborne Forward Air Controller (FAC) Major Atma
Singh in a HAL Krishak.[18]
The Indian aircraft attacked the Pakistani ground troops with the 16 Matra T-10
rockets and 30 mm cannon fire on each aircraft. Without
support from the Pakistan Air Force, which was busy elsewhere, the tanks and
other armored vehicles were easy targets for the IAF's Hunters. The range of
the 12.7 mm anti-aircraft heavy machine
guns mounted on the tanks was limited and therefore ineffective
against the Indian jets. Indian air attacks were made easier by the nature of
the barren terrain. Many IAF officers later described the attack as a 'Turkey
Shoot' signifying the lopsidedness. By noon the next day, the assault ended
completely, having cost Pakistan 22 tanks claimed destroyed by aircraft fire,
12 by ground anti-tank fire, and some captured after being abandoned, with a
total of 100 vehicles claimed to have been destroyed or damaged in the desert
around the post. Longewala had proved to be one of the defining moments in the
war.
From Bharath Rakshak:
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The
Pilots of Longewala
Having
read the earlier two articles by Air Marshal Minhi Bawa and Wg Cdr Kukke Suresh, The visitor must be
wondering who are the players and the pilots who flew operations in this
battle. For the first time, we present a set of rare photographs of the
flyboys who made history at Longewala . The Air Force Pilots: Wg Cdr M S Bawa ,Stn Cdr Sqn Ldr N L Gupta Sqn Ldr S D L Tully Sqn Ldr R N Bali Flt Lt K S Suresh Flt Lt D K Dass Flt Lt R C Gosain Flt Lt Pawan Kumar Flt Lt Deepak Yadav Flt Lt Jagbir Singh Flt Lt P K Mukherjee The Army Pilots: Maj Atma Singh Capt P S Sangha When the Pakistani Tank Regiment attacked Longewala there were only Four single seater Hunter 56 and Two two seater Hunter 66s on the base. Later during the war , the pilots were augmented by the main force from OCU led by the CO Wg Cdr D M Conquest. |
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