The Sinking of INS Khukri: Survivor's Stories 9789351940999, 9351940993

Citation preview

THE SINKING OF INS KHUKRI

Major General Ian Cardozo was born in Mumbai and studied at St Xavier's School and College. In July 1954, he joined the Joint Services Wing which later became the National Defence Academy. Here he was the first cadet to win the gold medal for being the best all-round cadet, and the silver medal for being first in order of merit. He was commissioned at the Indian Military Academy into the 1st Battalion the Fifth Gorkha Rifles (FF) in 1958 and was the first officer of the Army to be awarded the Sena Medal for gallantry on a patrol in NEFA in 1960. Wounded in the battle of Sylhet in Bangladesh in 1971, he overcame the handicap of losing a leg and became the first officer to be approved for command of an Infantry Battalion. He retired in 1993 from his appointment as Chief of Staff of a Corps in the East.

Author of The Sinking of INS-Khukri: Survivor's Stories and Param Vir: Our Heroes in Battle, he has worked with the Spastics Society of Northern India. At present he is working for persons with disability as Chairman of the Rehabilitation Council of India and is the Vice President of the War Wounded Foundation.

ROLI BOOKS

This digital edition published in 2015

First published in hardback in 2006 by This revised edition published in 2015 The Lotus Collection An Imprint of Roli Books Pvt. Ltd M-75, Greater Kailash- II Market New Delhi 110 048 Phone: ++91 (011) 40682000 Email: [email protected] Website: www.rolibooks.com

Copyright © Major General (Retd) Ian Cardozo AVSM, SM, 2006

Cover Design: Nitisha Mehta

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Roli Books. Any unauthorized distribution of this e-book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

eISBN: 978-93-5194-099-9

All rights reserved. This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published.

Dedicated to the officers and men of the Indian Navy who gave their lives in the defence of India during the Indo-Pak war of 1971 and to the loved ones they left behind

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Note from the Author

Foreword

Preface

Introduction

1. The Indian Navy at War

2. What Happened in 1971

3. The Sinking of INS Khukri and Survivors’ Stories

4. Across the Waves The Pakistan Navy’s Survivors’ Stories

5. Strategy and the Principles of War Standard Operating Procedures and Naval Traditions

6. The Past and the Future

Afterword

Annexures

Glossary of Naval and Military Terms

Bibliography

Acknowledgements In order to lend authenticity to the story of INS Khukri and what happened in 1971, quotes have been included in the narrative from books published in India and Pakistan. I felt it necessary to acknowledge both the authors and the publishers for these quotes. Details are given chapter-wise below:

Chapter 1

Pg 3: the quote is taken from Prepare or Perish by General KVK Rao. Lancer International, New Delhi, 1991, pg 119.

Pg 3,4: the quotes are taken from Transition to Triumph: History of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 by Vice Admiral GM Hiranandani, Naval Headquarters in association with Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1999, pg 48.

Pg 5: the quote is taken from Blueprint to Bluewater The Indian Navy 195165 by Rear Admiral Satyendra Singh, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1992, pg 420.

Pg 9: the quote is taken from We Dared by Admiral SN Kohli, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1989, pg 2.

Pg 10: the quote is taken from Blueprint to Bluewater The Indian Navy 1951-

65 by Rear Admiral Satyendra Singh, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1992, pg 434.

Pg 13: the quotes are taken from Transition to Triumph: History of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 by Vice Admiral GM Hiranandani, Naval Headquarters in association with Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1999, pgs 30, 31.

Chapter 2

Pg 29: the quote is taken from The Man Who Bombed Karachi by Admiral SM Nanda, HarperCollins, New Delhi, 2004, pg 174.

Pg 34: the quote is taken from Surrender at Dacca: Birth of a Nation by Lt Gen JFR Jacob, Manohar Publishers, New Delhi, 1997.

Pg 35, 36: the quotes are taken from War in the Indian Ocean by Vice Admiral Mihir K Roy, Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1995.

Pg 36: the quote is taken from Transition to Triumph: History of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 by Vice Admiral GM Hiranandani, Naval Headquarters in association with Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1999, pg 142.

Pg 38: the quotes are taken from Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972, Pakistan Navy Historical Section, Naval Headquarters, Islamabad, 1991, pg 337

Pg 40: the quotes are taken from Surrender at Dacca: Birth of a Nation by Lt Gen JFR Jacob, Manohar Publishers, New Delhi, 1997, pg 104 and Transition to Triumph: History of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 by Vice Admiral GM Hiranandani, Naval Headquarters in association with Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1999.

Pg 44: the quotes are taken from The Man Who Bombed Karachi by Admiral SM Nanda, HarperCollins, New Delhi, 2004, pgs 206, 207

Pg 50: the quote is taken from Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972, Pakistan Navy Historical Section, Naval Headquarters, Islamabad, 1991, pgs 356, 357.

Pgs 50, 51: the quote is taken from The Man Who Bombed Karachi by Admiral SM Nanda, HarperCollins, New Delhi, 2004, pgs 218, 219.

Pg 52: the quote is taken from Liberation and Beyond by JN Dixit, Konark Publishers Pvt Ltd, New Delhi, 1999, pgs 88, 89.

Pg 60: the quotes are taken from Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972, Pakistan Navy Historical Section, Naval Headquarters, Islamabad, 1991, pg 345.

Chapter 3

Pgs 122, 123: the quote is taken from Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972, Pakistan Navy Historical Section, Naval Headquarters, Islamabad, 1991, pgs 357, 358.

Pgs 126, 127: the quote is taken from We Dared by Admiral SN Kohli, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1989, pg 76.

Pg 127: the quote is taken from the Preface of Transition to Triumph: History of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 by Vice Admiral GM Hiranandani, Naval Headquarters in association with Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1999.

Chapter 4

Pgs 132, 134: the quote is taken from Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001, pg 132.

Pg 133: the quote is taken from Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club. NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001, pg 319.

Pgs 134, 135: the quote is taken from Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001, pgs 134, 135.

Pgs 137, 138, 139: the quotes are taken from Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001, pgs 342, 343.

Pg 140: a spoof on the saying that in war the only bullet that will get you is the one which has your name on it. Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001, pg 140 by Hon Sub Lt M Anwar.

Pg 141: a quote from Lt Hassan Asifs (later Rear Admiral Hassan Asif) account of survival at sea after the sinking of PNS Muhafiz, Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001.

Pg 148: a quote from a humorous account of action at sea during the 1971 war by Lt Jamil Akhtar (later Rear Admiral Jamil Akhtar) Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001.

Pg 149: a quote from another account by Vice Admiral Tasnim Ahmed, SJ and Bar. Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001.

Chapter 5

Pg 153: the quote is taken from We Dared by Admiral SN Kohli, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1989, pg 100.

Pg 153: the quote is taken from The Man Who Bombed Karachi by Admiral SM Nanda, HarperCollins, New Delhi, 2004, pgs 193,194.

Note from the Author The author gratefully acknowledges assistance from a number of individuals and institutions in piecing together this narrative. Most important are the survivors and the families of those who survived and of those who did not. Without their help this book could not have been written. I wish to thank them for their kindness, patience, understanding and generosity in giving me so much of their time. I also wish to thank officers of the Indian Navy for their openness, transparency and cooperation in helping me to put war at sea in the domain of the man in the street, who needs to know more about our armed forces.

I would like to thank: Vice Admiral Mihir K Roy, PVSM, AVSM, VSM; Vice Admiral Madanjit Singh, PVSM, AVSM, VSM; Vice Admiral RB Suri, PVSM, AVSM,VSM; Rear Admiral Arun Auditto, AVSM, NM; Rear Admiral Raja Menon, AVSM, VSM; Lieutenant General JFR Jacob, PVSM; Commodore Manu Sharma, NM; Commodore AK Sawhney; Commodore Vijay Jerath, VrC; Colonel PC Bhalla; Commodore Bobby Bhandula; Commodore BB Yadav, MVC; Lieutenant Commander Paul Raj; Lieutenant Commander Anil Kakkar; Lieutenant Commander SK Basu, NM: Chief Petty Officer KL Malhotra; Mrs Rekha Khanna; Mrs Sudha Mulla; Mrs Ameeta Mulla Wattal; Commander Mohan Narayan; Wg Cdr Tarun Kumar Singha, VSM; Squadron Leader Rana TS Chhina; Group Captain Rajiv Mata; Colonel Rajendra Singh Rana; Mr Deepak Dasgupta; Lieutenant Colonel V Maitra; and Mr & Mrs P K Handa.

I acknowledge the assistance of the following institutions: IMS Vikrant; Centre for Armed Forces Historical Research; United Service Institution of India; Maritime History Society of India; 58 Gorkha Training Centre; and Directorate of Public Relations, Ministry of Defence.

Special thanks are due to Vice Admiral Mihir K Roy, PVSM, AVSM and Vice Admiral RB Suri, PVSM, AVSM, VSM for going through the script and facilitating my introduction to those who led the attacks on Karachi and to experts in the area of antisubmarine warfare; to Commodore Vijay Jerath, VrC and. Squadron Leader Rana Chhina, who took the trouble of going through the script and making valuable suggestions; and to my daughter-inlaw, Shilpa, for helping me in typing the manuscript. Thanks are also due to Shri Munshi Prasad Gupta for helping me in formatting the book.

Very special thanks are due to Mr Pramod Kapoor of Roli Bocks, who has an excellent intuition for a good story. It is he who put me on the track of this episode and I have enjoyed researching the story and writing it. I only hope the reader will find the story equally absorbing and fascinating.

Last, but not the least, I would like to very specially thank Priscilla, my wife, who in the writing of this book not only accepted with good grace the absence of my company but also helped me in writing, editing and proofreading it.

Foreword

The Agony and Ecstasy of the Khukris

The continental mindset of Mughal Delhi as a result of the invasions through the Himalayan passes compounded the sea blindness of peninsular India. The mindset is reflected in the masterly inaction of the Indian Navy in not escorting Shipping Corporation tankers during the Iran-Iraq war, not assisting the evacuation of Indian citizens from Iraq (unlike the recent warship evacuation from Lebanon) and above all the decision of preventing the Indian Fleet from actively participating in the Indo-Pak war of 1965 enabling the Pakistan flotilla to bombard Dwarka, which has been well chronicled by the solider-historian Ian Cardozo. I was, during the Indo-Pak war of 1965, commanding the 22nd Destroyer Squadron with the officers and sailors insisting ‘Karachi Chalo (On to Karachi!)’ Such was the high morale of the Indian Fleet, which was unfortunately compromised by weak leadership.

Admiral SM Nanda, who spent his earlier years in Karachi and who, at that time, was the Managing Director of Mazagon Docks at Bombay, was provoked to write in the Blitz that ‘should war come again, we shall take the war to Karachi and the Indian Navy will make the biggest bonfire of it’. And the ‘lucky admiral’ had war thrust on him! He kept his promise with verve and audacity.

The warship casualties at the end of the two week Indo-Pak conflict at sea were the Pakistani destroyer Khyber, the minesweeper Muhafiz, the leased submarine Ghazi, three fast patrol boats, numerous merchantmen and 93,000

prisoners whose escape route via Chittagong was blocked by the Indian Navy.

India’s first loss at sea was the frigate Khukri, which is the centrepiece of an extraordinary linkage with all the Gorkha battalions whose personal weapon is the khukri. Here I would like to tell the readers about the Major General Ian Cardozo’s (of 4th Battalion Gorkha Rifles) feat: he used his own khukri to cut off his leg and that too without anaesthesia as gangrene was setting in and the medical facilities of his battalion at Sylhet, Bangladesh, had been destroyed by enemy shelling. A Pakistani Army doctor, Major Mohammed Akram, a prisoner of war, operated on him to reduce the mess caused by his ‘hara-kiri’ before he was helicoptered to an Indian base hospital. And it is this poignancy of war, narrated by a soldier who himself had nearly lost his life, that makes this book a very readable and poignant story of war at sea. Ian Cardozo is himself regarded as an icon in army circles because of his courage, commitment and modesty. He is presently the Chairman of the Rehabilitation Council of India.

In hindsight, the loss of 18 officers and 176 sailors of Khukri blooded the Indian Navy as it brought home the need to adhere to Standard Operational Procedures (SOPs) and safety regulations.

Ian Cardozo focuses on the heroics at sea from the graphic accounts of the survivors and relations which in a manner is a substitute for media coverage which was not available in 1971 as later in Kargil.

All services need an icon. Mahendra Nath Mulla ideally filled this requirement, which the author highlights in his book. It would have been appropriate if a well-deserved Param Vir Chakra was conferred on ‘ Viru’ Mulla, who gave his life jacket to a young sailor and himself went down with his beloved ship, ‘sitting on the Captain’s chair and lighting a cigarette’.

It is also a matter of regret that Admiral Nanda, who is considered by all as the ‘Father of the Indian Navy’, was not awarded a well-deserved fifth star (Admiral of the Fleet), for India’s first comprehensive victory at sea. This would have been greatly appreciated both by the admiring Indian Navy as also by a grateful nation as reflected in the navy’s motto:

SAHNO VARUNAH (May the seas be auspicious to us)

Mihir K Roy Vice Admiral (Retd) PVSM, AVSM

Preface This book attempts to tell the story of the sinking of INS Khukri during the Indo-Pak war of 1971. The difference between this narrative and the others is that it embodies personal accounts and stories of the survivors of the ships that were sunk on both sides.

Tracking down the survivors of the Khukri took sometime for the whereabouts of all the survivors were at first not readily available. I was ultimately able to trace some of them and to interview them personally, through e-mail, the telephone and written correspondence. The trail was a complicated one and went across several countries because some of them had settled abroad and some had joined the merchant navy and were, therefore, not easily accessible.

Pakistani accounts of the 1971 war have been gleaned from Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972 compiled by the Pakistan Naval History Section and Bubbles of Water, an anthology of naval stories that gives anecdotal accounts of life in the Pakistan Navy in war and peace. In this work I was happily surprised to find interesting anecdotes about Commander David Raffiudin, PN, with whom I grew up many years ago at Rafi Manzil, Colaba, Bombay (now Mumbai), at a time before Partition, when India and the navy were undivided.

This narrative has had no access whatsoever to classified official documents and is based entirely on published material, historical records, accounts of survivors and interviews of some of their family members and of naval personnel, who retired long ago. During the course of my research, I found

that in addition to bold planning, great leadership and good jointmanship, acquisition of intelligence and modern technology played a very important part in our victory at sea. Despite all this, the loss of the Khukri is a sad tale.

The book initially started off as a story of the Khukri survivors; however, as their stories unfolded, fascinating new dimensions of what happened in the war were revealed. Those who took part in the war had much to contribute and bits and pieces of interesting information and anecdotes lay tucked away in books, papers, magazines and the Internet. I thought it best to link them all together so that they would be available at one place, not only to facilitate reader accessibility but also because the linking together of all these pieces of information helped to make the story total and complete.

I have attempted to look at the story from the viewpoints of both India and Pakistan, to the extent possible, and in doing so, I feel I have been able to put together what really happened at sea in 1971 and in the sinking of PNS Ghazi and INS Khukri and the Pakistani warships that were destroyed and sunk off Karachi. Some strategic and tactical aspects of naval warfare and the application of the principles of war also surfaced. Although my experience in war has been basically on land. I find that the principles of war, whether on land or at sea, generally remain the same.

The navy did an exceptional job, both in the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal, and showcased its mastery of these seas during this war. The innovative use of our missile boats in the attack on Karachi highlights how imaginative and bold use of weapons can lead to outstanding results in war. The chapter ‘What Happened in 1971’ highlights the stories beyond the story, the importance of technology in war, the criticality of underwater warfare, the relevance of surprise and how important it is to be proficient beneath the sea if our navy is to establish primacy over, on and under the waves of the Indian Ocean and help India become a true maritime power.

The loss of the Khukri emphasizes the importance of technology and the need to have the best equipment; not only what money can buy but also what we can make indigenously. Pakistan continues to forge ahead with the manufacture of the most modern conventional submarines available in the world whereas our country has allowed our expertise in this field to whither away. This imbalance needs to be set right. ‘The powers that be’, we are told, are taking steps to redeem the situation and redress the imbalance but the redressal will take time. The question that needs to be asked and answered is why has this been allowed to happen and why did it take so long for the right thing to be done? Even now, as this book is being written, we find the ‘Scorpene’ deal has been doing somersaults inside and outside of Parliament. This agreement with France gives us the much-needed opportunity to make submarines and so rectify the imbalance in underwater capability between Pakistan and India. Do the persons concerned not understand that in sorting out each other on such issues they do so at the cost of our national interest? I understand from the retired naval community that both the Chief of Naval Staff and the government in power are doing their utmost to modernize the navy in its three dimensional aspects. This is heartening and reassuring.

Last but not the least, it is the character of Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla that comes shining through the narrative. There is much that we can learn from the example he set, in the manner in which he lived and died. He is a role model that many in the armed forces and in ‘civvy street’ could follow with benefit.

The aim of writing this book is to bring the armed forces closer to the public. The man in the street needs to know more about the defence forces that protect him, so that he understands he too has a stake in the defence of the nation and that his security, the security of his family and of society also depends on how well the defence forces are managed, equipped and trained.

I was fortunate to meet and interact with some of those who led the attacks on Karachi and experts in the area of antisubmarine warfare. Their advice and guidance helped ensure balance and put the story in what I think is the right perspective. The final views, comments and narrative, however, are my own, for which I accept full responsibility.

In writing this book, I have learnt a lot more about our navy and how important it is to have a strong and well-equipped navy, if our national interest is to be served. The controversies of the sinking of the Ghazi and the Khukri also needed to be set at rest. If I have been able to cover these aspects and place before the reader a simple and readable account of war and survival at sea, the importance of the navy and the ocean that surrounds us, then the book would have achieved its purpose.

Introduction INS Khukri was sunk midway through the Indo-Pak war of 1971, after the Indian Navy had taken the war right to Karachi, destroying Pakistani warships in harbour and setting the port on fire.

The sinking of INS Khukri was unfortunate because its destruction need not have happened. The euphoria in India over the brilliant success of the Indian Navy on the east and west coasts of the subcontinent evaporated somewhat with the news of her sinking. However, we needed to move on to a scintillating victory and so we did.

Tales of the survivors, as recorded in this narrative, provide different cameos of the event which, when put together, help in reconstructing the overall picture of what really happened. These narratives also give the reader an insight into the last moments of the Khukri and its crew – moments that separated death from life on that fateful night thirty-five years ago, at 8.45 p.m., on 9 December 1971.

The war between India and Pakistan during 1971 provides the backdrop to the war at sea and the story of the Khukri. This background is essential to give the reader the right perspective on events as they unfolded, leading to the war at sea and the showdown between the Khukri and the Pakistani submarine PNS Hangor. The background of the war is given in detail, but not too much, because the focus of this book is the story of the Khukri and ‘What Happened in 1971’ – not too little, because that would leave gaps in the story – but just enough to provide the historical perspective.

The narratives in this book also bring to center stage the part played by submarines. The sinking of the Pakistani submarine PNS Ghazi and the sinking of INS Khukri underscore the importance of underwater warfare, military intelligence and technology. How and why did the Khukri get destroyed and what can we learn from this and other events of the war at sea in 1971? The answers are provided by the actors in this life and death drama that was played out on the high seas. This story owes much to the narratives of the survivors, to the voices of those who took part in the 1971 war and to submariners of the past. What they say needs to be considered. Past events cast their shadow on the future and it is necessary to ensure we learn from history.

Anti-submarine warfare is as difficult or as easy as modern technology can make it. In this, sonar plays an important part. Sonars of surface warships probe and search the ocean depths for lurking enemy submarines. Detection of a target by a submarine or a surface warship and its recognition as an ‘enemy’ sets in motion a series of actions for the destruction of the target. Much depends on the quality of both the human as well as the material resources to achieve success. We have the technological expertise to make the best underwater detection devices the world can produce. Reliance on the West can only lead us once again to a situation where our armed forces may be compromised with material that may not be the best. This must not be allowed to be repeated. However, the feedback from the users of all three wings of the armed forces is that the performance of our Defence Research & Development Organisation in some areas leaves much to be desired and that perhaps joint-venture production may be the best option.

The Prussian military thinker Carl von Clausewitz said that war is an outcome of politics. If we accept this, then it follows our decision makers need to accept the important part the navy plays in safeguarding our national interests and to understand what needs to be done to ensure that it plays its rightful part in the oceans that surround us. Good leaders ensure wars do not take place but this can only be ensured if we are strong. Nature abhors a vacuum and if we do not fill that vacuum, then someone else will!

Readers will note that this book tells us mostly about the war in the Arabian Sea and very little about the navy’s exploits in the Bay of Bengal, which were equally outstanding. The reason is that this book focuses on the story of the Khukri and the submarine that destroyed it. The navy’s exploits in the Bay of Bengal will have to be told in another book.

Lastly, the book takes a brief look at the future. Newspaper reports that claim to articulate the views of the navy are projecting shortages that are likely to occur if the Scorpene project is delayed. The navy and the government need to be supported so that the project takes off in time. The sooner the better.

one

The Indian Navy at War

‘ There are risks and costs to a programme of action. But they are far less than the long-range risks and costs of comfortable inaction. – John F Kennedy

’ The Indo-Pak war of 1965

The non-participation of the Indian Navy in the Indo-Pak war of 1965 has to be placed in proper perspective. Hence a bit of the backdrop is necessary. This is the story of what actually happened.

Pakistan’s obsession to take Jammu & Kashmir (J&K) by force tempted her, early in 1965, to repeat the attempt of 1947-48. India, in 1965, was yet to recover from the political, economic and military effects of the Sino-Indian conflict of 1962. Pakistan had, on the other hand, joined the Central Treaty Organization and the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization and received

substantial economic assistance and massive military aid from the United States of America, amounting to over 1.5 billion dollars. From the US and the UK she acquired five destroyers, including two modern Battle Class destroyers, eight minesweepers and huge amounts of financial aid to improve naval infrastructure. For the army, the aid included 200 M-45 Patton tanks and supporting arms, ammunition and equipment. The Pakistan Air Force received one squadron of M-104 Starfighter aircraft, four squadrons of F-86 Sabre jet aircraft and two squadrons of B-75 fighter-bombers. The relative strength between the two countries had, therefore, changed drastically and dramatically in favour of Pakistan.¹ Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru had passed away by this time and the diminutive Lal Bahadur Shastri did not seem to impress the Pakistanis. General Ayub Khan, who had come to power through a military coup, apparently felt this was the best opportunity to once again attempt to take J&K by force as such a favourable opportunity might never come again. Before embarking on her plan for the offensive to annex J&K, Pakistan decided to take her measure of India by launching a limited offensive in the desert area of the Rann of Kutch. She felt this would give her an opportunity to check the calibre of the equipment she had received from the US and also to ascertain the will and resolve of the Government of India under the leadership of Lal Bahadur Shastri.² Published Pakistani sources and memoirs reveal a detailed and ambitious plan to wrest J&K by force. The plan consisted of three major operations named Operation Desert Hawk, Operation Gibraltar and Operation Grand Slam.

Operation Desert Hawk, to be launched in April 1965, was to be a probing encounter to establish claim to territory in the Rann of Kutch, where the boundary had not yet been demarcated. This operation had four specific purposes. First, to assess India’s response – political and military – to the use of force. Second, to draw India’s military forces southwards towards Kutch to make J&K and Punjab more vulnerable to future planned military action. Third, to give Pakistan military forces a dress rehearsal for a fullscale invasion of India later in the year. Fourth, to test how serious America was in enforcing its ban on the use of American supplied Patton tanks and other arms and equipment for an attack on India.³

India had protested strongly against this excessive military aid by the US to Pakistan and expressed her apprehensions that the aid would really be used against India and that the Cold War between the two superpowers of that time was being forced into the subcontinent. Subsequent events proved this to be true despite an assurance in writing from the Pakistani prime minister, Muhammed Ali, to Jawaharlal Nehru that American arms would not be used against India. The American President, General Eisenhower, also sent a message to Nehru dated 24 February 1954 that stated:

… and I am confirming publicly that if our aid to any country, including Pakistan, is misused and is directed against another in aggression, I will undertake immediately, in accordance with my constitutional authority, appropriate action both within and without the United Nations to thwart such aggression.⁴

The uncertainty further intensified when Indonesia, soon after the SinoIndian war of 1962, began to project a pro-China stance. She distanced herself from India and moved closer to Pakistan. An expansion of her naval fleet supported by the (erstwhile) USSR increased the Indonesian Navy’s confidence. Her bellicosity grew and she began to voice claims on some of the Nicobar Islands. Suggestions were also made that the Indian Ocean should be renamed as the Indonesian Ocean. There was an increase in the sightings of unidentified submarines and aircraft around the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. In response to Pakistan’s request for assistance, the Indonesian Navy sent two submarines and two missile boats to Karachi. The Indonesian Naval Chief even volunteered to distract India by making moves to take over islands in the Nicobars. Indonesian strategy appeared to be to get Pakistan to tie down the Indian Navy on the west coast of India so that Indonesia would have easy access to capturing some of our island territories of the Nicobar chain. As a consequence, the Indian fleet had to be sent to the Bay of Bengal. Air Marshal Ashgar Khan of Pakistan in his memoirs, The First Round, recounts his discussion with President Soekarno and Admiral Martadinata of Indonesia:

President Soekarno said that India’s attack on Pakistan was like an attack on Indonesia and they were duty bound to give Pakistan all possible assistance. President Soekarno told me to take away whatever would be useful to Pakistan in this emergency. Two Russian supplied submarines and two Russian supplied missile boats were sent to Pakistan post-haste.

Admiral Martadinata asked Air Marshal Asghar Khan:

Don’t you want us to take over the Andaman Islands? A look at the map will show that the Andaman and Nicobar Islands are an extension of Sumatra and are in any case between East Pakistan and Indonesia. What right have the Indians to be there? In any case, the Indonesian Navy will immediately commence patrols of the approaches to these Islands and carry out reconnaissance missions to see what the Indians have there.

Unfortunately for both Pakistan and Indonesia, by the time the Indonesian ships and submarines reached Karachi, the war was wrapped up and over’.⁵

Pakistan launched Operation Desert Hawk in the Rann of Kutch on 9 April 1965. She attacked Sardar Post, a small police post, with an infantry brigade supported by armour and overran it. India’s reaction was predictably slow. She reinforced the area with regular troops. Pakistan responded by launching a division-sized offensive under Major General Tikka Khan. Her newly acquired Patton tanks supported attacking forces in both these offensives. A spirited resistance by the outnumbered and outgunned Indian soldiers failed to convince a belligerent Pakistan that she had misjudged the calibre and character of the Indian soldier and the resolve of the Indian civil and military leadership, particularly the leadership of the Indian prime minister, Lal Bahadur Shastri. India, meanwhile, protested to America against the use of

American arms and equipment and America protested to Pakistan. Nothing further happened. That was as far as the assurance of an American president went that these arms would never be used against India. Pakistan, therefore, carried on with her plans. Having convinced herself that she had the upper hand, she agreed to a ceasefire and status quo ante, at the same time preparing for a much bigger offensive. India remained oblivious of Pakistani plans and intentions.

The ceasefire agreement on cessation of incursions in the Rann of Kutch was brokered by the British and signed by India and Pakistan on 30 June 1965. The agreement was to be followed by arbitration by a three-man tribunal. This apparently convinced India that Pakistan would follow the terms of the ceasefire agreement. India ought to have known better and looked at Pakistan’s legacy of duplicity of the past! While ostensibly agreeing to the ceasefire, she began to initiate a series of violent incidents across the Cease Fire Line (CFL) in preparation for her next offensive. In May, there were 1,345 incidents along the CFL engineered by Pakistan and confirmed by UN observers.

The ceasefire in the Rann of Kutch was followed by the Commonwealth Prime Minister’s Conference at London. An informal meeting took place at this conference between President Ayub Khan of Pakistan and our prime minister, Lal Bahadur Shastri. LK Jha, principal secretary to the prime minister, recalls:

‘In fact I recall, and it might be useful for the record, a meeting between Prime Minister Shastri and President Ayub during the Commonwealth Conference session. It was a private meeting and I was there. Ayub said somewhat patronizingly, “You know, your chaps tried to commit aggression on our territory, our chaps gave them a few knocks and they began to flee.” Then Shastriji said, “Mr President, you are a general. I have no military knowledge or experience. But do you think if I had to attack Pakistan, I

would choose a terrain where we have no logistic support and you have all the advantages? Do you think I would make such a mistake or any of my generals would allow me to make that mistake?” And one could see from the face of President Ayub that this thought startled him. Because quite obviously he had been led to believe, in my judgement by Bhutto, that the Indians had attacked in the Rann of Kutch. And he was firmly of that view until this question was posed by Shastriji. I could see him visibly pause and not pursue the point any further.’⁶

On 5 August 1965, Pakistan launched Operation Gibraltar. A guerilla force of over 30,000 crossed the CFL in columns of 600. Each column had six companies which in turn were commanded by an officer of the Pakistan Army. The force consisted of irregulars as well as personnel of the Pakistan Army. Although, as in the past, she tried to put them across as freedom fighters. Interrogation of captured prisoners of war revealed that this force was led by officers, JCOs and NCOs of the Pakistani Army and that they were to attack and destroy formation headquarters, lines of communication, communication centres, administrative installations and supply dumps. The force was also to create a law and order situation behind our front line and to term it as an ‘uprising by the citizens of Jammu & Kashmir’. After a few days of large-scale damage, it was planned that an announcement would be made over a new radio station called the Voice of Kashmir that the people of Kashmir had risen in revolt. Although Pakistan denied any complicity in Operation Gibraltar and termed it as an uprising within Kashmir by the locals, there was clear-cut evidence of her involvement. Interrogation of some of the infiltrators blew her game away and revealed that the plans for the attack were made before the end of May, a month before the Rann of Kutch Agreement! In addition, President Ayub had himself addressed the force commanders at Murree in the second week of July.⁷

Soon after Operation Gibraltar, Pakistan launched Operation Grand Slam across the international border and the CFL with her regular army. Her air force attacked our airfields. The intention of these operations was to destroy the Indian Army units in a hammer and anvil operation, with the Pakistan

Army units as the hammer and the insurrection raised by the infiltrators to the rear of the army as the anvil. In effect, the aim was to sandwich and crush the units of the Indian Army on the CFL between the Pakistani Army on the one side and the infiltrating forces on the other.

Pakistan’s overall strategic aim of Operation Grand Slam was to capture Akhnoor and cut India’s road link with Kashmir. Pakistan would allege that this was in response to India’s aggression across the Cease Fire Line. After the successful launch of the thrust to Akhnoor, the Pakistan Army would follow up and launch a massive attack with Patton tanks in Punjab to capture Amritsar and as much Indian territory as possible as a bargaining counter after the eventual ceasefire. The plan, as plans go, was a good one. Putting it into practice, however, was a different matter altogether.

Unfortunately for Pakistan and contrary to their expectations, it was the civilians who alerted the Indian Army in J&K about the infiltrating columns and it was the civilians who helped hunt them down. Operation Gibraltar was a failure. Most of the infiltrators were either killed or captured and those who escaped the army dragnet broke up into small groups and exfiltrated back into Pakistan Occupied Kashmir (PoK). In addition, the Indian Army, in a brilliant operation, captured the strategic Haji Pir pass in PoK through which much of the infiltration had taken place. I (the author) personally took part in operations in the Rajouri and Poonch sectors of J&K and spoke with JCOs and NCOs of the Pakistan Army, who had been captured by my unit.

When Pakistan realized that Operation Gibraltar was not making any headway they launched Operation Grand Slam across the international border with a division-sized force supported by an armoured brigade and heavy artillery. Pakistani forces captured the area of Chhamb-Jaurian in Jammu with considerable casualties on both sides. Since Pakistan had enlarged the war by attacking across the international border, the Indian Army now opened up a second front in order to take the pressure off the troops in the

Chhamb-Jaurian area and attacked Pakistan in Punjab on grounds that J&K was an integral part of India and, therefore, India had the right to attack across ground of her own choosing.

Indian troops fought some brilliant battles in this area, most memorable being the battle of Dograi in Punjab, Pakistan. In the area forward of Dograi advance elements of Indian Army formations reached the outskirts of Lahore but further advance was not possible as the main elements could not link up with the troops ahead nor was it desirable, as it would have meant fighting long-drawn battles in built-up areas. The threat to Lahore, as anticipated, caused Pakistan to react violently and she attacked with her armoured division in the area of Khem Karan in Punjab, India, in an attempt to break out and head for Delhi. Massive tank battles were fought in Asal Uttar and Khem Karan areas and these soon became graveyards for Pakistani tanks. Pakistan lost a total of 97 tanks in this area alone and 24 were in running condition. The commander of the Artillery Brigade of the Pakistan Armoured Division was killed. The divisional commander was wounded but they managed to retrieve him. Having lost the ability to continue the offensive any further, the Pakistani offensive was called off and a ceasefire came into effect yet again, this time through the intervention of the United Nations. In the negotiations that followed, India had to give Haji Pir back to Pakistan and got the area of Jaurian up to the Manawar Tawi in return.

A large number of the newly acquired American Patton tanks of Pakistan were either destroyed or captured in the fierce tank battles not only in the areas of Khem Karan and Asal Uttar but also in the tank battles at Shakargarh in the area of Sialkot.

Once the Indo-Pak war of 1965 had shifted from the battlefields of J&K to areas across the international border, its complexion changed from being a localized war to a war across all borders. Whereas the Indian Army and the Air Force were already fighting the war, now was an opportunity to also use

the navy and augment the overall war effort. However for reasons best known to the government, the Indian Navy was not allowed to participate in this war. According to Admiral Nanda in his book The Man Who Bombed Karachi, a directive was sent out by a joint secretary in the Ministry of Defence that action by the Indian Navy should not ‘widen’ the war. Admiral Kohli in his book We Dared clarifies this further and states: ‘A government instruction under the signature of a joint secretary, Ministry of Defence, laid down that the Indian Navy was not to proceed more than 200 nautical miles beyond Bombay nor north of the parallel of Porbandar. This meant fettering the navy’s mobility. The joint secretary’s communication was given to the then Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral BS Soman.’ Admiral Kohli further states: ‘Admiral Soman on being asked by me recently, gave his version of what transpired in his own characteristic manner, he said:

‘As far as I remember, it was the morning after the evening of the start of the war that I got a file from the ministry signed by Sarin who was then joint secretary, saying that the navy is not to initiate any offensive action against Pakistan at sea and is not to operate above the latitude of Porbandar except in pursuit of any Pak Navy offensive action. I immediately contacted the minister, Mr YB Chavan, and asked to see him; at our meeting I strongly protested against this order and said in any case I cannot accept it from a joint secretary in the ministry. If I remember correctly, Mr Chavan initialled the directive and asked me if that would do. I replied that in that case I would like to see the prime minister.

‘Arrangements were made for me to see the prime minister, Shastriji, next morning, and I had about twenty minutes with him. On his assurance that it was a cabinet decision – I am not sure whether he too initialled the file – I accepted it on the understanding that should I consider it necessary, I may be allowed to see the President of India, as the Commander-in-Chief.’

These ambiguous orders succeeded in effectively preventing the navy from

doing anything useful and permitted the Pakistan Navy to bombard the coast of Gujarat with impunity. Although this had no effect on military operations, it gave the Pakistan Navy a boost in morale and was seen by them as a humiliation of India and her navy. It was difficult for the officers and men of the navy to understand the reason for such an order. Civilians in general and officers of the armed forces in particular asked why the navy could not do anything in retaliation against Pakistan’s naval raid on Dwarka and the reputation of the navy plummeted. Few knew that all this was because of a diktat from our government.⁸ It seems unreasonable of the ruling government not to take the navy into confidence and this just goes to show how badly misunderstood is this business of ‘the primacy of the civil over the military’ and to what extent it can be taken to prove the point! It is all very well to tell the military ‘not to reason why’ but what governments need to understand is that the military fights for a cause and when the cause is known, then men fight better. The reason for this lack of confidence will hopefully come out in due course.

By 9 September 1965, all ships had returned from the Bay of Bengal. INS Talwar had also returned from Okha after temporary repairs. All fleet ships were in Bombay, having their urgent operational repairs attended to and getting ready to sortie out. The dilemma was: for what task? On the one hand were the restrictions imposed by the government that, to localize the conflict, the navy was not to go beyond Porbandar. On the other hand, Dwarka had just been bombarded and needed to be avenged. Within the navy, the lower levels were itching for action. The higher levels were grappling with the problem of how to bring the Pakistan flotilla to action without violating the spirit of the government’s directives. And in Parliament, a member acidly enquired, ‘What was the Indian Navy doing when the Pakistan Navy bombarded Dwarka?’⁹

The Pakistan naval bombardment of Dwarka did not cause any material damage, other than killing a cow. Vice Admiral Krishnan apparently said:

One of our frigates, INS Talwar, was at Okha. It is unfortunate that she could not sail forth and seek battle. Even if there was a mandate against the navy participating in the war, no government would blame a warship going into action, if attacked. An affront to our national honour is no joke and we cannot laugh it away by saying ‘All that the Pakistanis did was to kill a cow’. Let us at least create a memorial to the ‘unknown cow’ who died with her hooves on, in a battle against the Pakistan Navy.¹⁰

The Pakistan naval submarine, PNS Ghazi, however went on to claim that she had sunk the Indian frigate INS Brahmaputra and three gallantry awards were announced by Islamabad. The Pakistan Naval Chief, Vice Admiral AR Khan, was awarded the Hilal-i-Jurat; Commander KR Niazi, Commanding Officer of PNS Ghazi and his second-in-command Lieutenant Commander Tasnim Ahmed were both awarded the Sitara-i-Jurat. (Tasnim was later the Commanding Officer of the submarine PNS Hangor, which sank the Khukri when he was awarded a bar to his Sitara-i-Jurat). An engine room artificer G Nabi was also awarded a Tamghai-i-Jurat. However, the Brahmaputra was unaware of an underwater attack or any type of attack against it and along with the other frigates had to be paraded at Bombay to satisfy the media that the episode was entirely a figment of Pakistan’s imagination. As Admiral Mihir K Roy says in his book, War in the Indian Ocean, ’ Perhaps the gossip of an Iranian frigate limping back to Karachi, as also the decoration of an engine room artificer of the Ghazi, merits further analysis.’¹¹

In the spring of 1966, a debrief on the 1965 war was held at the South Block Conference Room. The naval staff read out the operational directive from Naval Headquarters which, as stated, was to ensure the safety of Indian merchant shipping and the sanctity of the Indian coast. The directive sent out by a joint secretary in the Ministry of Defence, that the Indian Navy should not ‘widen’ the war, whatever that meant, was also read out. The spokesman for Naval Headquarters went on to say that the Western Fleet had met all the aims of the parameters set out by Naval Headquarters, although no encounter had taken place between the Indian and Pakistani navies.¹²

The Pakistan Navy, as has been mentioned earlier, had bombarded Dwarka and although this was of no material consequence, the navy and the people considered it as an affront and humiliation. At the meeting mentioned above, the audience responded with silence to the assertion of the Naval Headquarter staff that the Indian Navy had achieved all its operational objectives. Captain Nair was the only exception; he protested strongly, pointing out that the navy was also answerable to the people and that the people and Parliament would want to know about the role played by the navy in the 1965 war. Nair’s plain speaking led to much heartburn and acrimony but it certainly raised the level of debate and his comments shaped the thinking of several future chiefs in many ways. Admiral Nanda, who was at that time Director General of the Naval Dockyard Expansion Scheme, realized that the navy’s strategic role needed to be reviewed and lifted out of the doctrinal straitjacket into which it had been confined.¹³

In his book We Dared, Admiral Kohli goes on to say that it was difficult for the navy to understand the reason for the order restricting the role of the navy in the 1965 war. He says, ‘Maybe it was to limit the scope of the 1965 operation against Pakistan, maybe the government thought our old ships might not be able to make a good showing. The Pakistan Fleet then consisted of ships of much the same vintage as ours – or perhaps just a little newer. The reason will no doubt come out when the official history of the 1965 and 1971 wars is published.’¹⁴

The government headed by Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri was apparently determined to prevent the conflict from developing into a fullscale war. The Indian Air Force was used only when there was a threat to the strategic area of Akhnoor in J&K. It was perhaps this determination of the prime minister that prevented the use of the navy. Excerpts from the recollections of government officials, as given in Transition to Triumph: Story of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 and included in this narrative, probably better describe the circumstances that determined the government’s thinking

and decisions at that time. LK Jha, then principal secretary to the prime minister, recollects:

‘Admiral Soman had in the meantime – ever since the involvement of the air force been straining at the leash, saying “look, let me go into action”. But again, the same consideration, which was acting as a restraint on using the air force or going into Lahore prevailed. It was felt if we now opened up another front off Karachi, it would become a major engagement and would no longer be a matter of a localized conflict. So the decision was taken that the operation to march to Lahore would be launched but that the navy would not be involved.

‘The Indian Army crossed the international border at Wagah on the morning of 6 September and headed for Lahore. President Ayub went on the air. It was a very, very strong and angry broadcast. Admiral Soman thought that the opening of the Lahore front meant that a no-holds-barred situation had come and he, I think, issued a signal that we were at war with Pakistan. This signal had to be countermanded, because we did not want to go to that stage so soon. But still we felt that the navy had the capability and if the event so necessitated, I don’t think there would have been too long a hesitation to use it. But the feeling was strong that if we could contain the Pakistani forces and hold them on land, then perhaps it would be wiser not to get the navy involved. I knew that the navy was not happy with this decision because they were very anxious to go into action.’

Admiral Soman elaborates on his interview with YB Chavan and says:

‘When I saw Chavan he said that he was sorry that even after the Chinese debacle in 1962, the navy had continued to be overlooked and as such it would perhaps be better if the navy did not go looking for trouble.’

Admiral Soman further says that after he gave his reasons why the navy should not be left out of battle, Chavan replied that in the government’s order of priorities, the responsibilities assigned to the navy for the defence of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands against a possible attack from Indonesia was more crucial than naval operations against Pakistan. The non-availability of INS Vikrant, which was in dry dock, also needed to be considered. Admiral Soman then describes his interview with the prime minister, he says:

When I called on the prime minister, he brought up the same two points – the navy had not been strengthened since the Sino-Indian conflict and its responsibilities in the Andaman and Nicobar area were more important than in the Arabian Sea. The prime minister brought up the undesirability of escalating the war at sea. I then brought out some historical examples to vindicate my point. This seemed to annoy the prime minister who said, ‘You have no choice.’ I asked him whether he had any objection to my seeing the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces, meaning the President. The prime minister smiled and politely said, ‘No, you do not have to see him.’¹⁵

The navy did operate in the Arabian Sea but strictly within the boundaries as laid down by the Ministry of Defence. In the ultimate analysis, the passive role played by the navy in the 1965 war and the repercussions it caused had a useful outcome as this was the prime factor that motivated the navy and senior naval officers like Admiral Nanda to make sure that the navy played its rightful role in any future conflict.

The Indo-Pak war of 1971

Moments after the Pakistani Air Force launched a pre-emptive strike on Indian air fields on 3 December 1971, the Indian Naval Chief flashed this

message to the Eastern and Western fleets: ‘Seek and destroy all enemy warships. The maritime link between the two wings of the enemy is to be sliced forthwith. Ensure that no, repeat, no supplies reach the Pakistani war machine in East Pakistan from seaward.’

He followed this up with another signal that said: ‘ Pakistan has committed an unprovoked aggression against us and our Defence Services have been ordered to meet this challenge with full courage and determination. My objective is to seek and destroy Pakistani lines of communication and, alongwith the sister services, inflict maximum damage on the enemy war machine. I expect all officers, sailors and civilians in the navy to do their duty and act according to the best traditions of our great Service. No sacrifice should be too great for us. Let us write a new and glorious chapter in the history of our Service.’

The Commander-in-Chief, Pakistan Navy, Vice Admiral Muzzafar Hasan, on the outbreak of hostilities sent out to all Pakistan Naval units the following message: ‘We must defend ourselves with all our might. For us in the Navy, the long-awaited hour has struck and as true “mujaids" with full faith in Allah and the justice of our cause we must respond to the call of duty with courage and determination. We must give no quarter to the enemy. Seek him out and destroy him wherever he may be. I am confident that all officers, sailors and civilians of the Pakistan Navy will by their exemplary conduct and action add another glorious chapter to Pakistan and Muslim history of which our future generations will be justly proud. May Allah be with us all and give us His protection and guidance. Pakistan Zindabad.’

The attack by Pakistan’s air force on our airfields on 3 December 1971 was a declaration of war on India. This day was in fact the beginning of the end of East Pakistan and also of the attempt by Pakistan’s military and civil leadership to obliterate, by force, the people of its eastern wing. Elections held a year earlier had resulted in an overwhelming mandate for the Awami

League led by Sheikh Mujibur Rehman to lead both wings in democratic governance. The president of Pakistan, General Yahya Khan and the prime minister, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, colluded to prevent domination of Pakistan by a Bengali majority. The armed forces of Pakistan were used to terrify and break the will of the people of their eastern wing. They used machine guns, tanks and artillery against unarmed civilians. The hapless people of East Pakistan decided that they could take no more and fled across the border into India. Operation Blitz, led by Lieutenant General Tikka Khan, triggered off a mass exodus of terrified civilians into India. Lieutenant General Tikka Khan, who had already earned for himself the infamous title of ‘the Butcher of Baluchistan’, now added ‘the Butcher of Bangladesh’ to his name. Over a million men, women and children were decimated by the Pakistani war machine and over ten million refugees crossed over to India seeking shelter from genocide.

Operation Blitz had unacceptable consequences for India. On humanitarian grounds the shelter, food, medical and hygiene needs of ten million refugees became the responsibility of the Government of India. The burden of refugee relief was estimated at over $700 million. Indian protests were not heeded either by Pakistan or the Western powers. Besides the intolerable economic burden, it created grave security problems. These consequences – economic, political and military – were not sustainable by India.

When repeated attempts by India to find a reasonable solution to this problem with Pakistan failed, Indira Gandhi, then prime minister of India, sought the assistance of the international community to persuade Pakistan to retract her inhuman policy against her own people. Unfortunately, although the people of the world supported India and were sympathetic to the plight of the people of East Pakistan, their governments were deliberately indifferent, and Pakistan’s brutal genocide against her own people continued unabated. The US government followed by the rest of the world looked the other way, professing that it was an internal matter of Pakistan. For India, it was not only an outrage against humanity but also a matter of her own survival. India now stood alone in her predicament against the cultivated indifference of a

partisan world and the high-handed machinations of an arrogant and belligerent neighbour.¹⁶

The hijacking and burning of an Indian Airlines aircraft at Lahore in Pakistan resulted in a ban by India of the use of Indian airspace by Pakistani aircraft. This imposed considerable strain on communication between Pakistan and her eastern wing. All flights now had to be routed via Sri Lanka.

As a consequence of these actions by Pakistan, a situation developed which had three outcomes. The first was that among the refugees in the camps that had to be established in India, groups among them got together, full of hate and thirsting for revenge against West Pakistani troops who had raped their women, killed their brothers and destroyed their homes. These groups came to be called the Mukti Bahini – the freedom fighters – whose aim was to liberate East Bengal from the tyranny of West Pakistan and to declare their homeland as the independent state of Bangladesh. The core of the military wing was East Bengal personnel of the Pakistan Army, Navy and Air Force who had either deserted or escaped from West Pakistani custody. In the months prior to the war they caused much damage by destroying communication facilities, power stations, bridges, port facilities and shipping.

The second development was the evolution of plans by India as to what needed to be done to ensure the return of the ten million refugees to their homeland. This also resulted in the armed forces making contingency plans for a war situation in case war was forced upon them.

The third outcome was the nexus that developed between Pakistan, China and the US with the possibility of all three combining against India, who stood isolated and alone. To counter this coalition of countries inimical to India, a friendship treaty was concluded between India and the Soviet Union that neutralized to a large extent the potential of such collusion.¹⁷

By this time, immense political pressure by an agitated Indian public began to build up, demanding immediate action against Pakistan. After diplomatic efforts failed, the prime minister considered the possibility of military intervention. There were, however, other factors against military action – political, military and climatic – that demanded a self-imposed delay.

Meanwhile a review was carried out by India’s armed forces and the other essential services that took into consideration India’s state of arms, ammunition, equipment, training, commerce and industry, road and rail communication, climate, morale, world opinion and enemy options. All these factors indicated a particular timetable for war that would be suitable for India, if war was thrust upon her. India’s political leaders led by a dynamic prime minister accepted this assessment by the Army Chief and the armed forces used the intervening period to prepare for the worst possible contingency.

In the meanwhile, pressure by the Opposition, the public and the press continued to build up against the prime minister and the government for their failure to take military action against Pakistan. Pressure on the prime minister and the government commenced as soon as the enormity of the refugee problem became known to the Indian public. The lack of a military response from India and the move of additional troops from West Pakistan to their eastern wing only made Pakistani troops more reckless and ruthless. Border incidents multiplied and instances occurred towards the latter part of the year when Pakistani troops made forays, into Indian territory, against Mukti Bahini forces that had their bases in India. This resulted in an increasing number of clashes with Indian border posts manned by paramilitary forces. As these clashes grew in number and intensity, our border posts had to be reinforced by the army. This brought Pakistan and Indian army units in direct confrontation with each other.

As far as the Pakistan Navy was concerned, it had taken a decision, as far back as 1960, that in view of limited resources, it would concentrate on the building up of its underwater capability. This resulted in the acquisition of an American ocean going submarine, the USS Diablo which was renamed as the PNS Ghazi. This was followed by the acquisition from France of three Daphne class submarines, the most modern submarines of that era, and midget submarines and chariots from Italy. The three submarines were named as the Hangor, Shushuk and Mangro. The primary targets of the Daphne class submarines were the bigger ships of the Indian Navy, that is, the aircraft carrier Vikrant, and the cruisers Mysore and Delhi. The primary tasks of the midget submarines and the chariots¹⁹ were to incapacitate Indian ships in harbour. The midget submarines were armed with a torpedo and the chariots were armed with limpet mines.²⁰

Towards the end of 1959, the Indian Navy acquired three Blackwood class anti-submarine frigates. These were named the Khukri, Kirpan and Kuthar. These frigates were designated ‘second class’ as they only had antisubmarine capability, and no surface or anti-aircraft capability except for a lone hand-operated small calibre gun. Their ASW package was of the 1950 vintage and was also fitted on board the Royal Navy ships.²¹

In early 1971, the Indian Navy received eight Soviet missile boats which were named as Nashak, Nirghat, Nipat, Nirbhik (251 K Division) and Vijeta, Vidyut, Vinash and Veer (252 K Division) – all eight boats comprising the 25 K Squadron. Six British Seaking helicopters equipped with dunking sonars and anti-submarine homing torpedoes were received in October 1971, just two months before the war started.²²

About three months before the war, Pakistan Naval Headquarters issued an emergency directive on 15 September 1971, placing it at a high level of operational preparedness. This meant ensuring availability of the maximum number of fighting units and putting them on high alert to go to war.²³ This

indicated the need for a certain degree of urgency in our own preparations. The Indian Navy, meanwhile, had in the month of May 1971 started formulating plans for the Western and Eastern Naval Commands and deciding on the allocation of forces. These plans evolved from the strengths and weaknesses of our own resources.

Admiral Krishnan in his book, No Way But Surrender, elaborates the thought process that led to his concept of operations, which Naval Headquarters later approved. In brief, it was to strangle the Pakistan Army’s supply line from West Pakistan to the East Pakistan ports. This was to be achieved by attacking these ports from seaward, apprehension of Pakistan merchant ships and prevention of all movements out of East Bengal by sea.

An analysis of threat from the Pakistan Navy in the Western Sector concluded that they would not deploy their destroyers or frigates in East Pakistan because they were liable to get bottled up there. The Pakistan Fleet would, therefore, be deployed for the defence of Karachi and the Makran coast. It was felt that the Pakistan Fleet would not sail beyond the cover that could be given to it by its air force. The Daphne class submarines along with midget submarines and chariots were expected to be deployed offensively, off Bombay, off the Saurashtra coast and against ships of the Western Fleet. The Ghazi, which was a submarine with a larger endurance capability, was expected to operate in the Bay of Bengal and that it would be stalking the Vikrant.

The Western Fleet of the Indian Navy was tasked to seek and destroy enemy warships, protect our merchant shipping, deny sea lanes to enemy shipping and to cut the maritime line of communication between West and East Pakistan so as to prevent reinforcements from reaching their eastern wing.

In order to destroy Pakistani warships and harbour installations, it was

planned to attack Karachi from Bombay on the very first day of the war. The fleet would then launch a second attack on the second day from a southwesterly direction. The innovative use of missile boats was part of the plan. Depending on the success of these attacks, a third attack was also planned.

By the end of October 1971, border clashes on land in the Eastern Sector became more violent and had escalated to skirmishes that were accompanied by artillery and mortar fire. The Mukti Bahini had in the meanwhile established a major base in East Pakistan adjacent to the Indian village of Boyra. On the night of 21 November 1971, Pakistani troops supported by armour, artillery and the Pakistani Air Force launched an offensive against the ‘liberated’ territory around Boyra, which came under intense shelling resulting in heavy casualties to Indian troops located there. The Indian Army launched a strong counter-attack and threw the Pakistani forces back, inflicting heavy casualties on them. Three Pakistani Sabre jets that had intruded into Indian air space were shot down. Two of the Pakistani pilots were captured as their aircraft fell in Indian territory, the third fell into East Pakistan.

Prior to this Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, the then prime minister of Pakistan, visited China. US President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State and National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger followed next – the meeting was brokered by Pakistan. These political developments accompanied subsequently by belligerent action on the ground and aggressive statements by the Pakistani president, General Yahya Khan, indicated that Pakistan was preparing for an all-out war. It was evident that General Yahya Khan was banking on support of the US, China and Middle East countries. India, in the meanwhile, in order to ensure that she was not politically isolated, signed a Treaty of Peace, Friendship and Cooperation with the Soviet Republic.

In the last week of October 1971, the Indian prime minister, Indira Gandhi, in

a last minute attempt to avert war, visited France, West Germany, Belgium, Britain, the US and Australia. She pointed out to them the genocide being perpetrated by Pakistan against her own people and the intolerable burden that the ten million refugees had imposed on India. She urged them to use their influence to advise President Yahya Khan to settle with Mujibur Rehman. This they would not or could not do, the benchmark of noninterference having been set up by the US. It seemed that war was inevitable – the only question was where and when.

The planning and conduct for the various contingencies by the Indian Armed Forces were exceedingly well carried out. Cooperation, coordination and jointmanship between the armed forces and the civil services contributed much to good planning and conduct of the war. The prime minister held regular meetings where the service chiefs briefed her and where contingencies were discussed and plans presented, reviewed and updated. It was during this period that the Naval Chief, Admiral Nanda projected his plans. For the first time, the Indian Navy was given an opportunity to project its potential.

Indian planners pushed through an excellent strategy that was ably executed by well-trained and highly motivated troops, but the timetable was tight. The timing of the initiation of the war by Pakistan on 3 December 1971 precluded access across land frontiers to China because all the passes on the Indo-China border were blocked by snow. Interference by the US led by President Nixon was anticipated, but the war was concluded before the US Seventh Fleet could effectively intervene. By the time the warships of the US Seventh Fleet arrived in the Bay of Bengal, the war was concluded; more than 93,000 Pakistani soldiers were taken prisoner, a region liberated and a new nation was born.

The war at sea was fought by the navy both in the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. The war in the west was fought under Admiral SN Kohli, PVSM,

AVSM, Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Western Naval Command and the war on the eastern sea front was fought under Admiral SN Krishnan, PVSM, AVSM, VSM, Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Eastern Naval Command. Naval Headquarters under the Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral SM Nanda, PVSM, AVSM, coordinated and conducted the war on both fronts.

Mysore Flagship West (Capt R.K.S. Ghandhi, VrC)

Endnotes

1. General K.V. Krishna Rao, Prepare or Perish, p. 119 and Naval Headquarters, History Section, Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972, pp. 180-191. .

2.

Major General Ian Cardozo, Param Vir, pp. 90, 91.

3. Vice Admiral G.M. Hiranandani, Transition to Triumph: Story of the Indian Navy 1965-1975, pp. 20, 21.

4.

Prepare or Perish, p. 119, Transition to Triumph, pp. 20,21.

5.

Transition to Triumph, pp. 9, 15–18, 25, 47, 48.

6. Rear Admiral Satyendra Singh, Blueprint to Bluewater Indian Navy 1951-1965, p.420.

7.

Prepare or Perish, p.123.

8. Admiral SN Kohli, We Dared, p. 2 and Admiral SN Nanda, The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p.178.

9.

Transition to Triumph, p.35.

10.

Blueprint to Bluewater, p. 434.

11.

Vice Admiral Mihir K Roy, War in the Indian Ocean, p.86.

12.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p.177.

13.

ibid., pp. 176–179.

14.

We Dared, p.3.

15.

Transition to Triumph, p. 30.

16. Major General Ian Cardozo, Ed. The Indian Army – A Brief History, p.126.

17.

Transition to Triumph, pp. 111,113.

19. Midget Submarines are small underwater craft built to carry frogmen to enemy harbours into depths that larger submarines cannot penetrate. The

midget submarines acquired by Pakistan could not carry torpedoes. In 1971, the Pakistan Navy had modified two of their midget submarines to carry torpedoes mounted on the hull with an improvised firing mechanism activated from inside the submarine. These submarines were manned by the naval element of Pakistan’s elite Special Service Group. Chariots are smaller underwater craft with one or two men riding ‘horseback’ on it. These were used mostly as an underwater approach to a ship. The crew is able to attach limpet mines on an enemy ship and to move away after setting the timing mechanism which would blow up at the appointed time.

20. Limpet mines are mines with a magnetic base that permits attachment by way of magnetic attraction to the metal hull of a ship. These are normally fixed by naval frogmen (naval commandos) during an underwater approach. The mine has a timing mechanism that blows up at a predetermined time.

21.

Transition to Triumph, p.7

22.

ibid., pp. 108,110.

23.

ibid., p.120.

two

What Happened in 1971

‘ Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any one thing. – Abraham Lincoln

’ The official military history of the Indo-Pak war of 1971 is yet to be published. Such histories, however, rarely bring out the human element of the big story. Concerned as they are with the larger canvas, military historians often leave out human-interest stories which would otherwise have fleshed out the bare bones of historical narrative. One wonders why this happens, because ‘the man in the street’ would like to know what, why, and how things happen in war and what goes on behind the scenes. This is true of all wars and all nations.

Field Marshal Sir William Slim, one of the chief architects of the allied victory in Burma during World War II, was one day waiting to meet Winston Churchill in the anteroom of the British prime minister’s office. The meeting

was delayed and the Field Marshal, while waiting, glanced through the Official History of the First World War. He, as a young officer, had taken part in this war. His unit had fought some hard-won battles and he was disappointed to find no mention of these actions, which, in his estimate, had contributed, in part at least, to the overall victory. Looking at this representation of history by official historians, he felt that the little battles and the human-interest stories also needed to be told. He narrated these stories in his book, Unofficial History – a record of interesting events that gave war a human face. Later on, as a Field Marshal, he wrote Defeat into Victory – a very readable history of the war in Burma during World War II. This book is replete with stories that bring out the human element in war. It is today considered to be one of the most remarkable and readable histories of World War II.

In researching for the story of INS Khukri, I came across stories and events that, in my opinion, make the 1971 war at sea come fascinatingly alive. I felt that these also needed to be shared with the readers so that they are better able to understand why and how things happen in war. There were events that took place before the war that were equally interesting and needed to be told.

Wars with Pakistan

India went to war with Pakistan four times. In 1947, 1965, and 1999 Pakistan caught us napping and we had to work hard to throw them back. 1971 was a different story – this time there were many indicators that Pakistan was preparing for war and so India could plan for such a contingency. Indira Gandhi, like prime ministers before her, made every effort to avoid war because she believed that war was an anachronism that was best avoided. When every effort failed to convince the leaders of Pakistan to desist from their policy of genocide and to create conditions so that the refugees could go back, she then tried to get the major countries of the West to put diplomatic pressure on Pakistan to settle with the Awami League leader, Mujibur

Rehman. When these efforts also failed, Mrs Gandhi was faced with the unfortunate but unavoidable military option.

The military option

In April 1971, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi sent for General Manekshaw, the Chief of the Army and Chairman of the Chiefs of Staff Committee and told him that the situation had crossed all limits of tolerance and there was no alternative but to consider the military option. The Army Chief explained that there were a number of reasons this was not possible at that stage. General Manekshaw, on the basis of an assessment made by Headquarters Eastern Command, stated that the monsoon was due and the rains would make movement in East Pakistan impossible, particularly because East Pakistan was a riverine country and India was woefully short of river-crossing equipment. Some of the rivers were so large that at some places one could not see the other bank. Shortage in arms, ammunition and equipment had to be made up and the troops had to be trained to meet all possible contingencies. It was also necessary to wait till the mountain passes were snowed up, so that the Chinese would not be able to intervene. Therefore, the best time suitable for a military option was late November or early December. Troops would by then be trained, equipped and ready for war and the ground would be able to stand sustained military operations.² The prime minister, after due consideration, accepted the Army Chief’s advice and told him to go ahead and prepare for the military option.

The prime minister’s decision was conveyed to the Chief of Air Staff and the Chief of Naval Staff. The three chiefs were a close-knit team and this closeness worked very well during the war. Things fell into place because of the understanding and effective coordination of the three chiefs and the three services.

The American tilt and the Pakistan-US-China nexus

Meanwhile political developments cast an ominous shadow on the international relations issue. Henry Kissinger, National Security Advisor to the President of the US, visited New Delhi in July 1971 to warn India that her policy in support of the liberation struggle by persons displaced from East Pakistan was not appreciated by the US and that his government was in support of General Yahya Khan. JN Dixit in his book Liberation and Beyond says Kissinger stated clearly that India should expect the US to oppose any Indian initiative in support of the liberation of Bangladesh. His meetings with Mrs Gandhi, PN Haksar, and other Indian officials were tense and unproductive. Kissinger apparently was overassertive and supercilious. He received a firm, cold and disdainful response from the Indian team, details of which are available in Kissinger’s memoirs The White House Years and the memoirs of the then foreign secretary, TN Kaul.³ Kissinger proceeded thereafter from New Delhi to Islamabad from where he was to undertake his secret mission to Beijing to reopen diplomatic and political relations between the US and China. His visit and the subsequent visit by the American president, Richard Nixon, to China was arranged by Yahya Khan and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto who functioned as intermediaries and worked behind the scene to facilitate the visit. Pakistan’s importance to the US as an ally, therefore, became all that more important. Nixon and Kissinger owed too much to Yahya Khan for his help in establishing fresh relations with China. Pakistan now became an important strategic ally serving American interests.

The Treaty of Friendship with Soviet Russia

The tie-up between Pakistan, the US and China at this critical juncture, when war was a distinct possibility, highlighted India’s isolation. Something needed to be done and done soon. Indira Gandhi rose to the occasion by signing the Treaty of Friendship with the Soviet Union in August 1971. This was a political masterstroke that put both the US and China on the backfoot

and imposed caution on them. They now had to think twice before implementing their veiled threats of intervention. The Treaty of Friendship with the Soviet Union ensured that India would not be alone should she be forced to go to war.⁴ The general objective of the agreement was to provide a legal and political basis to seek Soviet assistance in case India’s security was threatened by any country. The second and most specific objective was to provide a basis for future support from the Soviet Union in case the US and Pakistan, or Pakistan and China, or all three acted in concert with each other to thwart any military operations that India might undertake in support of the Bangladeshi liberation struggle.⁵

American pressure resisted

JN Dixit in his book Liberation and Beyond showcases the strength of the Indian prime minister Indira Gandhi in dealing with the browbeating tactics of the US government. In the book, he describes an interesting incident. He says that it was in late August-early September 1971 that the US decided to openly adopt what came to be known as a ‘tilt in favour of Pakistan’. Although official statements were made that arms aid to Pakistan would be discontinued, this did not happen. Arms consignments by sea continued, much to the annoyance of the American public. On the other hand, the US threatened to discontinue economic aid to India. Kenneth Keating, US ambassador to India, met Mrs Gandhi at her office at South Block and told her that the US wanted to avoid the embarrassing decision of having to stop economic assistance to India and hoped that India would reconsider its policies on East Pakistan. Mrs Gandhi’s response was prompt. She told Kenneth Keating that there was no need to feel embarrassed and suggested the immediate closure of the US Aid Mission in New Delhi. She acted on her suggestion, the office was closed and the building converted into a hotel (Qutab Hotel).⁶

Attempting to bring world opinion on track

Indira Gandhi, meanwhile, continued to do her best to avoid the possibility of war with Pakistan. In November 1971, she commenced her world tour during which she visited Moscow and Washington, London, Paris, West Germany and Australia to make a final plea to them to use their influence with Pakistan to settle the vexatious refugee problem and the policy of repression in East Pakistan. There was, however, no cooperation from the Western powers. They took the American stand that the brutal killings and genocide taking place in East Pakistan were Pakistan’s internal matter.

Perception on the utilization of the Indian Navy

When events in East Pakistan kept escalating and war became apparent, the Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Nanda, became more determined to ensure that this time the navy would not be left out of combat. Failure to use the navy in 1965 had, however, cast a shadow on its potential in a war. No one took the navy seriously because it had, for no fault of its own, not taken part in any of the three wars fought since independence. During deliberations in the Prime Minister’s Office before the 1971 war, after the Army Chief and the Chief of Air Staff had finished their briefings, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi looked at her watch and said, ‘Admiral, do you have anything to say?’ The general perception was that the navy’s role was inconsequential.⁷

Naval plans for the war

Admiral Nanda, however, had already taken it upon himself to ensure that the navy would not be left out, should there be another war. He had earlier gone on record and was quoted by a Bombay newspaper, the Blitz of 15 March 1969, as saying:

And if war comes again, I assure you that we shall carry it right into the enemy’s biggest ports like Karachi; I know this harbour quite well for I started my career working there. And you have my word, that given the opportunity, the Indian Navy will make the world’s biggest bonfire of it.⁸

The Naval Chief, therefore, in 1971 had to conceive and present a worthwhile contingency plan for the Indian Navy in anticipation of a war. This resulted in a detailed analysis of threat posed by the Pakistan Navy and how this threat could best be overcome.

‘ Fears and doubts’ and the need to change the mindset

Admiral Nanda recalls that when he asked his staff at Naval Headquarters what the Pakistan Navy was likely to do, the reply was that they would not seek action on the high seas but would remain under Pakistan Air Force cover for the defence of Karachi, which was then West Pakistan’s only seaport. When he asked them what our Western Fleet should do, the reply was that it should deploy for the defence of Saurashtra and Bombay to prevent a hit and run raid of the kind that took place on Dwarka in 1965. In Admiral Nanda’s view, such a defensive outlook and deployment of our navy was not acceptable. He was determined that the navy’s frustration in 1965 should not recur.⁹

It was obvious that the thinking of the navy was conditioned by the 1965 war and straitjacketed by British policy and doctrine that largely influenced the thinking of the navies of the Commonwealth. There was much discussion and considerable opposition from the staff at Naval Headquarters as well as from Western Naval Command against Admiral Nanda’s proposition of a strike against Karachi. C-in-C West, the Fleet Commander and staff members felt

that Karachi was too heavily defended for an Indian strike to succeed. The defence referred to, comprised 16-inch guns at Manora Point and the support the Pakistani Air Force could provide from the two air bases near Karachi. It was also argued that Pakistani warships and submarines would be deployed along a specific perimeter to protect Karachi. The staff suggested that although an attack could be carried out, the risks were too high.

Admiral Nanda realized that if he had to carry his plan through, he would have to change the mindset of the staff at Naval Headquarters and at Western Naval Command. He decided to war game¹⁰ the situation. During initial discussions, the Pakistani Navy was accorded all sorts of long-range capabilities, but on a more realistic appreciation, it was soon realized that most of the Pakistani fleet would be tied up for the defence of Karachi and the most they could achieve would be a sporadic raid on the Kathiawar coast. In such a situation, an offensive plan would be our best defence. Such a course of action would also pre-empt the Pakistani Navy from mustering any worthwhile force for an offensive foray. The war games clearly brought out that the Pakistani Navy could not be everywhere and that if the offensive in the close vicinity of Karachi had to be launched, night time would provide sufficient protection against the Pakistani Air Force which, in fact, had no night strike capability at sea. Gradually a time came when everyone agreed on the feasibility and desirability of offensive action. The basic concept that emerged was straightforward, that is, to take the offensive, attack Karachi, entice the Pakistani fleet to battle – and cut the sea line of communication between West and East Pakistan.¹¹

Admiral Nanda’s plan

Admiral Nanda emphasized that the navy was a strategic force and its primary role was to safeguard our sea lanes, to keep them open and to disrupt the enemy’s trade and supply routes. He indicated the possibility of international involvement and the need to examine how such a situation

should be handled, if and when this took place. The Naval Chief also brought out that the strength of the Pakistani Navy was its underwater capability and that the type of military hardware Pakistan had acquired or was likely to acquire would further indicate its intentions. At that time, Pakistan’s main focus had been to build up its submarine arm. The Pakistani navy had added three Daphne class submarines acquired from France to its fleet. These were sophisticated conventional submarines that were the best submarines of that time and could easily outclass and outmanoeuvre Indian anti-submarine frigates, some of which were of 1950s vintage. According to the Naval Chief, this was the greatest challenge to the Indian Navy.¹² Pakistan had also acquired a number of midget submarines and chariots¹³ whose basic purpose was to undertake clandestine operations like attacking ships in harbour or the sabotage of ports and vital installations along the coast. These were clearly offensive weapons and were an indicator of Pakistan’s intentions. The Pakistan Air Force was a ‘threat in being’ to our warships should we attack Karachi harbour. It could also provide air cover to Pakistani warships in an offensive role up to a distance of 150 nautical miles. In real terms however, the basic threat from the Pakistan Navy worked out to attacks by three Daphne class submarines along with midget submarines on the western coast and the submarine, PNS Ghazi, on the eastern coast. The Ghazi’s, endurance range was phenomenal and, therefore, it was the only Pakistani submarine that could operate in the Bay of Bengal all the way from Karachi.

The deployment of INS Vikrant

During the 1965 Indo-Pak war, the aircraft carrier Vikrant was undergoing repairs. In June 1970 it was again lying immobilized in Bombay due to serious leaks and cracks that had developed in its boilers. These cracks and fissures could not be welded. This meant it would be difficult for the aircraft carrier to work up sufficient speed to launch its aircraft into prevailing winds. Also adversely affected was the capability of the catapults on the deck of the aircraft carrier for which sufficient steam had to be generated in the boilers to launch aircraft from its deck.

Admiral Nanda decided to see for himself as to what the actual capabilities of the Vikrant were under these circumstances. Trials were carried out first in Bombay harbour and subsequently out at sea. In May 1971, Admiral Nanda personally chaired numerous discussions on the Vikrant problem. Trials were carried out in June 1971 and precautions taken. Modifications were also carried out to bring out the best possible performance in the existing circumstances. By end June, it was clear that the sea trials were successful. As a precaution, her speed was restricted to 14 knots. All restrictions were removed later by the commanding officer of INS Vikrant and two very capable and courageous engineer officers put their careers on the line by removing these restrictions so that the Vikrant could generate enough wind speed to get her aircraft airborne.

The general opinion, however, was that if the Vikrant got torpedoed or if she sank, the Indian Navy and India would lose a lot of prestige. Therefore, the decision to send the Vikrant to sea was a difficult decision to take. The Vikrant was at risk especially from underwater threat; so considerable escort effort was required. There was an overwhelming body of professional opinion that considered that deploying the Vikrant in her current state was a risk not worth taking. In any war at sea the Vikrant would obviously be the most worthwhile target. The three Daphne class submarines posed a great potential threat to the carrier. The sophistication of their detection capability as well as the homing devices of their torpedoes were such that once the carrier was picked up and the screen of escorts pierced, the Vikrant would be an easy target.

Admiral Nanda, however, was determined that the Vikrant needed to prove her worth. If she once again failed to participate in a war with Pakistan she would be considered a white elephant and naval aviation would be written off. After discussions with the Director of Naval Intelligence, Commodore Mihir K Roy, who was from the aviation branch, and considering the threat from the Daphne class submarines, Admiral Nanda decided that it would be

better to put her beyond the reach of these submarines. The endurance capability of the Daphne class submarines of Pakistan restricted them to the western seaboard and the best option, therefore, would be to deploy the Vikrant with the Eastern Fleet. There was, however, the threat from the submarine PNS Ghazi whose endurance capability enabled her to operate in the Bay of Bengal, but for that another solution had to be devised. Admiral Nanda assigned the Vikrant to Eastern Naval Command along with two gun ships of the Brahmaputra class, two ships of the Petya class and one submarine. There was considerable opposition from Western Naval Command who did not want to part with their flagship or the other ships on the premise that the main naval battles would take place in the Arabian Sea. The Eastern Fleet, however, had to have some worthwhile strength. Ultimately logic and the Naval Chief’s prerogative prevailed. With regard to the threat to the Vikrant from the Ghazi it was decided that in preparing our plan, we would rely much more on deception measures and ignore the air threat, in the hope that Pakistani aircraft would be fully committed against our air force and the land battle, and would be chary of operations over the sea.

PNS Ghazi versus INS Vikrant

PNS Ghazi was in fact an American Fleet class submarine, the USS Diablo, which was released to Pakistan in early 1963 under the US Aid programme. In the same year the French government agreed to build three Daphne class submarines for Pakistan. USS Diablo was decommissioned, transferred to Pakistan and commissioned as PNS Ghazi on 1 June 1964 and arrived in Pakistan on 4 September 1964. The first Daphne class submarine, PNS Hangor was commissioned on 1 December 1969¹⁴ and PNS Shushuk and Mangro followed soon after. All three are names given to the shark in three different provincial languages of Pakistan.¹⁵ The Indian Navy meanwhile had started receiving the Soviet built Foxtrot class submarines, which were the latest of the ‘conventional’ submarines in their inventory. The first of these submarines arrived in 1968 and by 1971 the Indian Navy had at least three of them. The only difference between the Indian ‘F’ class and the Daphne class

submarines were that the latter were smaller and of lesser range.

Repairs were carried out on the Vikrant which enabled it to be operational by mid-1971 but it could only operate at slower speeds and that made it more vulnerable to attacks. The Naval Chief, therefore, decided to use the Vikrant in the Bay of Bengal. This strategy took into account the availability of the aircraft carrier for operations against East Pakistan and also that its vulnerability to Pakistan’s submarine threat would be less.

Radio interception by signals intelligence pays big dividends

During the period preparatory to the war, joint planning for the first time became a reality; not only amongst the three services but also with the paramilitary forces and the essential services. It was at this time that Lieutenant General JFR Jacob, Chief of Staff of Headquarter Eastern Command, insisted on Eastern Command having its own signal intercept unit, as he felt that it would be futile waiting for information from Delhi. It was fortunate that Lieutenant General Jacob was able to ensure that this happened because the unit was able not only to intercept Pakistani communication between its western and eastern wings but to also break the Pakistani naval code. Therefore, our headquarters were able to know in advance much of what the Pakistan Navy was planning. Lieutenant General Jacob in his book, Surrender at Dacca, states:

Our Signal Intelligence Unit was capable of limited code breaking. Even though they had only limited success with critical army codes, they were able to break the naval code. We intercepted signals from the submarine Ghazi, off Ceylon and on her entering the Bay of Bengal. These were passed on to the navy, both in Delhi and Vishakapatnam.

On 1 December, we intercepted a message from West to East Pakistan advising them of the warning sent to all Pakistani merchant shipping not to enter the Bay of Bengal. We passed this on to the three Service Headquarters, Army, Navy and Airforce, as also an intercept warning civil aircraft not to fly near the Indian borders.¹⁶

These signals sent out a strong message that war was close at hand, that is, less than forty-eight hours away. These signals were of critical importance to the Indian Armed Forces as they placed them on immediate notice. The army was able to warn formations of likely offensives in their sectors, the navy ordered the Western and Eastern fleets out of Bombay and Vishakapatnam, respectively, which made all the difference to place them out of harm’s way from Pakistani Daphne class submarines on the west coast and from the Ghazi on the east coast and the air force were able to ensure the safety of their aircraft at their airfields. When Pakistan attacked India on 3 December 1971, the armed forces were ready and able to launch an immediate response.

Note: Joint Signal Intelligence manned by the army and the navy were responsible for interception of enemy signal communication. General Jacob’s book is the only source material that I have in this regard.

Other powers working for Pakistan

As has already been discussed earlier, despite the problem with INS Vikrant’s boiler, Admiral Nanda was determined to optimize the use of the aircraft carrier. The Vikrant was, therefore, moved to the Bay of Bengal. However, the Vikrant was still within reach of PNS Ghazi. About this time, a curious incident took place, which indicated that there were other powers working for Pakistan to find out the exact location of the Vikrant. Admiral

Roy says:

Vikrant worked up her flying programme in the triangle between Madras, Vishakapatnam and Port Blair. An interesting intelligence snippet merits attention. An assistant naval attaché of a foreign embassy latched himself on to the Flag Lieutenant¹⁷ of the Chief of Naval Staff on the golf course. He was particularly curious regarding the aircraft carrier’s movements. On getting confirmation that the Vikrant was at Madras, that particular embassy’s communication aircraft was flown to Madras and on arrival at Meenambakam airport, inexplicably went unserviceable. Spares were then flown out to Madras so that the communication aircraft could carry out test flights over the sea for several days to determine its serviceability but in reality to check out the movements of the Vikrant. It is pertinent to state that at this juncture there was a delay in launching an ‘intelligence gathering satellite’ into orbit.¹⁸

Admiral GM Hiranandani in Transition to Triumph says:

The Vikrant was ordered to proceed to Vishakapatnam and she was dutifully tracked by this aircraft upto this port. At night, the carrier altered course and steamed away to the Andamans unknown to those who were trying to keep her under observation. The information that the Vikrant was at Vishakapatnam was dutifully communicated to Pakistan as was subsequently confirmed by a signal sent to the Ghazi by Pakistan Naval Headquarters that the Vikrant was in fact in Vishakapatnam.¹⁹

The perceived role and tasks of PNS Ghazi and counter-measures by the Indian Navy

The appreciation of the role and task for the Ghazi by both the Pakistan and

Indian Navy were the same. It was quite clear to both sides, considering time, space and available resources, it was only the Ghazi that could operate far away from Karachi in the Bay of Bengal. The Vikrant’s problems must also have become known to Pakistan – that in her present state she presented a very attractive target. It was, therefore, assumed by both sides that it would be the aim of the Pakistan Navy to destroy the Vikrant in the Bay of Bengal and it became the endeavour of the Eastern Fleet Commander to find ways and means to protect the aircraft carrier and at the same time to maximize her usefulness in the coming war.

The old destroyer INS Rajput, which was at Vishakapatnam, was in the meantime instructed to use the Vikrant’s call sign²⁰ and on a low grade cipher to keep requesting for large quantities of logistics as would be required by the Vikrant.²¹

The signals initiated by INS Rajput using the Vikrant’s call sign demanded rations, fuel, oils, lubricants, equipment, clothing and stores, which in quantity and type indicated that these requirements were for the aircraft carrier at Vishakapatnam, whereas in reality the carrier was elsewhere! These subterfuges led the Pakistan Navy to believe that the Vikrant was harbouring at Vishakapatnam and the Pakistani submarine PNS Ghazi was, therefore, tasked to destroy her while she was still there in Vishakapatnam harbour.²²

From interceptions of transmissions of the Pakistan Navy by signal intelligence and from other indicators, it appeared that the die was cast and that Pakistan was inevitably moving closer to war. PNS Ghazi moved out on her designated task on 14 November. In the East, the situation turned serious when on 22 November 1971 Pakistan launched attacks against Indian Army positions near Boyra. India launched a counter-attack and in the ensuing battle thirteen Pakistani tanks were destroyed. In this attack the Pakistan Air Force was also used and three of their aircraft were shot down. Two of these fell into Indian territory and the pilots captured. (One of them, Flight

Lieutenant Pervaiz Mahdi Quereshi, later, went on to become the Chief of the Pakistan Air Force). Movement out of Karachi harbour by PNS Ghazi on 14 November 1971 and the Daphne class submarine PNS Hangor on 21 November 1971 were also indicators that war was close at hand. On 23 November 1971, the Pakistan government declared an emergency. All Pakistan naval units except two minesweepers proceeded to sea and the control of Pakistani merchant shipping was taken over by the C-in-C, Pakistan Navy. After that date in November 1971, it was clear that the situation had gone beyond control. The Story of the Pakistan Navy, published twenty years later in 1991, states:

The Navy ordered the submarines to slip out of harbour quietly on various dates between 14 and 24 November. They were allocated patrol areas covering the west coast of India, while the Ghazi was dispatched to the Bay of Bengal with the primary objective of locating the Indian aircraft carrier, INS Vikrant, which was reported to be operating in the area.

The book goes on to say:

The strategic soundness of the decision has never been questioned. Ghazi was the only ship which had the range and capability to undertake operations in the distant waters under control of the enemy. The presence of a lucrative target in the shape of the aircraft carrier Vikrant, the pride of the Indian Fleet, was known. The plan had all the ingredients of daring and surprise, which are essential for success in a situation tilted heavily in favour of the enemy. Indeed, had the Ghazi been able to sink or even damage the aircraft carrier, the shock effect alone would have been sufficient to upset Indian naval plans. The naval situation in the Bay of Bengal would have undergone a drastic transformation and carrier-supported military operations in the coastal areas would have been affected. So tempting were the prospects of a possible success that the mission was approved despite several factors which militated against it.²³

In India, the Eastern Fleet was ordered to put out to sea. The Eastern Fleet moved out of Madras to be out of reach of the Pakistani submarine PNS Ghazi, known to be operating in the Bay of Bengal. INS Rajput, however, continued to initiate dummy traffic to indicate that the Vikrant was in Vishakapatnam²⁴ whereas she was now elsewhere and far away. In retrospect, the Vikrant moved away, well before the arrival of the Ghazi. However what the Pakistan Navy did not know was, that it was not possible for the Vikrant to enter Vishakapatnam harbour because its size did not permit a turning movement inside the harbour. The Vikrant had never entered the harbour at Vishakapatnam and, therefore, mining of the channel that gave access to the harbour as far as the Vikrant was concerned was a futile exercise.

Move of the Western Fleet on commencement of war

The Indian Navy had in its deliberations anticipated that, in the event of war, the Pakistan Navy would deploy its submarines off Bombay to attack our fleet as and when it moved out of the harbour. The possibility of the use of their midget submarines also existed. Keeping this in mind, it was decided that the Western Fleet would sail out as soon as there were indicators that war was close at hand.

What no one actually knew at that time was that a Pakistani Daphne class submarine was already outside Bombay harbour since 22 November 1971. It was lying in wait for the war to start so that she could draw first blood by destroying ships of the Western Fleet as they emerged from Bombay harbour.

The deployment of PNS Ghazi

The Ghazi’s deployment in the Bay of Bengal, as mentioned earlier, was anticipated. Surveillance of the Pakistan Navy’s signal traffic indicated that the Ghazi was off Madras from 25-27 November and off Vishakapatnam on the night of 3 December. The deception measures by Eastern Naval Command succeeded in convincing the Pakistanis that the Vikrant was in Vishakapatnam harbour, when, in fact, it was elsewhere. The Pakistan Navy directed the Ghazi to occupy Zone Victor (presumably the code-name for Vishakapatnam). The message recovered subsequently from the Ghazi states: ‘Occupy Zone Victor with all dispatch. Intelligence indicates carrier in port’.²⁵

Declaration of war

The Pakistan Air Force attacked our airfields in the north without a declaration of war. The attacks took place between 5.40 and 5.45 p.m. on 3 December 1971.

The sinking of PNS Ghazi

On the night of 3 December 1971, at 0015 hrs, a very loud explosion was heard in the harbour that rattled the windowpanes of the buildings at Vishakapatnam. Several thousand people waiting to hear the prime minister’s broadcast to the nation heard the explosion and many came out of their houses thinking it was an earthquake. Some of those who looked out said they could see a big plume of water going quite high into the sky at a distance from them. It was not known at that time that this was in any way connected with the sinking of the Ghazi, which in fact it actually was. In his book Surrender at Dacca Lieutenant General Jacob, states:

We had signal intercepts of the Ghazi, a Pakistani submarine, entering the Bay of Bengal and we had passed on this information to the Indian Navy.

On the morning of 4 December, Admiral Krishnan, Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief of our Eastern Naval Command, telephoned me to say that the wreckage of a Pakistani submarine had been found by fishermen on the approaches to the Vishakapatnam port.²⁶

Captain KS Subramanian was the Indian Navy’s senior-most submariner at that time and captain of the 8th Submarine Squadron at the submarine base in Vishakapatnam. He recalls:

The first indication of the Ghazi having sunk came in the middle of the night. A muffled but powerful explosion resembling a deep underwater explosion (distinctly different from gunfire) was heard in the naval base during the night of 3-4 December. The next morning, fishermen reported finding flotsam. It was only after this discovery it was appreciated that that there had been a sinking off Vishakapatnam. The next morning (4 December) we went out to the spot and located the wreck. The Clearance Diving Team from Vizag was ferried across. I was there with them. They found the Ghazi sunk in fairly shallow water.

On the day before the hostilities broke out, she was already in position which we perhaps didn’t anticipate. She had laid mines. One of her own may have blown her up and she sank outside Vizag harbour before she could do any further damage.²⁷

There are, however, several versions of how the Ghazi was sunk. Admiral Krishnan in his book No Way But Surrender – An Account of the Indo-

Pakistan War in the Bay of Bengal 1971 states that he was very concerned about the vulnerability of the Vikrant. Well after he had safely dispatched the fleet towards its operational base, he continued to use various means to deceive the enemy into thinking that the Vikrant was still at Vishakapatnam. On the evening of 3 December 1971, he was informed that Pakistan had initiated hostilities against us. On arrival at the Maritime Operations Room, he learnt that orders for commencement of hostilities had been received. At this stage he decided that INS Rajput which was masquerading as the Vikrant should join the fleet for operations against East Pakistan. He says he sent for Lieutenant Commander Inder Singh, the captain of the Rajput, and ordered him to leave harbour as soon as she had completed refueling. He also cautioned the captain that in all probability, if the deception plan had been successful, the Pakistani submarine would be in the vicinity and that all precautions should be taken. He says that the Rajput sailed just before midnight on 3 December and while proceeding along the narrow channel saw a disturbance in the water about half a mile ahead and presuming that it could be the enemy submarine diving, he ordered depth charges to be fired and proceeded on course. Sometime later, a loud explosion was heard about 0015 hrs. Considering the actions of the Rajput described above, one possibility was that the Rajput sank the Ghazi. Another possibility was that the Ghazi blew up when it drifted back on the mines it was laying in the narrow channel to the harbour. A third theory was the mines that it was carrying accidentally exploded. A fourth theory was that there was excess accumulation of hydrogen gas igniting and exploding the submarine.

A number of officers who were involved with the investigation of the wreck of the Ghazi, particularly divers, appear to agree with the fourth theory. All who investigated the wreck of the Ghazi confirm that the hull of the Ghazi had blown outwards near the mid-section of the submarine and not right forward near the torpedo tubes. Had a mine or a torpedo exploded then the damage would have been forward and had the Ghazi been destroyed by setting off one of the mines that it had itself laid then the damage would have been external, none of which was the case. The general consenus amongst most of those who went down and investigated the wreck is that the explosion was caused due to an accumulation of hydrogen. Torpedoes and

mines have a large number of safety devices to prevent such an accident from taking place. On the other hand, a large number of signals sent by the Ghazi as recovered from her message logbook state very explicitly that the submarine had a major problem of hydrogen building up inside. Probably when the build up of hydrogen exceeded safety limits, the explosion took place and at the same time whatever ordnance she was carrying – mines, torpedoes everything – went off all together, blowing the submarine apart. Interestingly, just before the outbreak of the 1971 hostilities, a BBC news item mentioned that an explosion had taken place inside a British submarine while it was charging its batteries in the harbour and that the damage caused the submarine to sink.²⁸

Vice Admiral Mihir K Roy in his book War in the Indian Ocean states that after the war, the Americans and the Russians both offered to raise the Ghazi at their expense but the Government of India preferred to let the Ghazi lie in peace, and she still rests there in the mud outside Vishakapatnam harbour along with her many secrets and we will never be absolutely sure as to what caused the internal explosion that sank her. What is sure, however, is that the deception plan that lured the Ghazi to her destruction outside Vishakapatnam worked admirably, for which Eastern Naval Command deserves full credit.

Examination of the recovered logbook of PNS Ghazi by divers of the Indian Navy reveals that Pakistan Naval Headquarters sent clear messages to the captain of the Ghazi that the Vikrant was at Vishakapatnam and that he should proceed to do his task.

Indian naval plans for the war

Broad outlines of the navy’s plans for a possible war with Pakistan have already been discussed in an earlier chapter. A discussion between Admiral

SN Nanda, Chief of Naval Staff and Admiral Krishnan, C-in-C Eastern Naval Command, indicates that the Naval Chief was quite clear in his mind that the key to success was a strong offensive. Admiral Krishnan in his book No Way But Surrender, states:

On 10 June, Admiral Nanda asked me to meet him at Bangalore where he was chief guest at an Air Force ceremonial parade. We talked at length on the tasks ahead. All our discussions stemmed from one overriding thought, a firm conviction, bordering on an obsession, that should war come, the Navy should throw everything into battle and our entire strategy from the very onset of hostilities should be one of bold offensive. We must scrap, erase and wipe off from our minds any idea of a defensive posture, we must seek action, taking any risks that were necessary and destroy the enemy in his ports and at sea …

The basic aim of Eastern Naval Command, as it evolved, was ‘to destroy the enemy’s maritime forces deployed in support of military operations in East Bengal and to deny all sustenance from reaching the enemy from the sea’.

In his assessment of comparative strengths of opposing naval forces, Admiral Kohli, C-in-C Western Naval Command, felt that although the firepower of Pakistan’s destroyers was better than ours, the vintage and calibre of both fleets were more or less the same. However, he felt that their submarine arm was far superior to ours. He stated that the French Daphne class of submarines were the most modern conventional submarines with sensors and armament, far superior not only to our submarines but also our antisubmarine frigates. Initially, Admiral Kohli was at variance with the Naval Chief on the aim and conduct of operations by the Western Fleet.

The main aim of the Western Naval Command Plan was the destruction of as many Pakistani naval units as possible. A complementary aim was to attack

Karachi and to carry out a bombardment of Gwador and Pasni and along the coast upto Karachi. A blockade of Karachi was to be instituted to prevent petroleum and other essential supplies needed in war from reaching Karachi.

Clearance for the attack on Karachi

The hesitance in using the navy in a positive, proactive role in the 1965 IndoPak war had sapped the confidence of the navy not only in themselves but also in their perception of the ability of the government to use them usefully. The Naval Chief had clear ideas of how the navy needed to be used and his objective was the Pakistan Navy’s citadel of Karachi. He felt he needed to get the ‘go ahead’ from the prime minister herself. The manner in which he got his clearance is best described in his own words:

During October 1971 I went to see the prime minister and briefed her on the navy’s plans. During the briefing I specifically asked the PM whether the government would politically object to the navy attacking Karachi. Instead of giving a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ reply, the PM asked me to explain the reasons behind such a question. I clarified that, in 1965, the navy was told not to operate north of Indian territorial waters and this decision put the navy in a very difficult position. I also pointed out that as far as the military aspects of a maritime encounter were concerned, these were the responsibility of the Chief of Naval Staff but as far as the political aspects were concerned, I had to have her clearance. The PM thought a bit and then responded “Well, Admiral, if there is a war, there is a war.’

I thanked her and said: ‘Madam I have my answer.’ After this clearance, I was convinced that there was no further need of a dialogue on how precisely the navy was going to conduct its operations.²⁹

The use of missile boats in attack mode

The Russian Osa class missile boats started arriving in India during February 1971. These boats were loaded at Russian ports in the Black Sea on to merchant ships and were shipped to Calcutta, which was the only port that had a 200-ton crane that could unload them. They had to be towed to Bombay in order to conserve their engine hours,which were limited to 500 hrs. The engines were in fact aircraft engines fitted on to these boats. They were designed and built by the Russians for the defence of ports and harbours against sea-borne landings and for limited short-range attacks against seaborne landing forces. Their use, therefore, as visualized by the Russians, was for defensive operations. They were also offered to the Pakistan Navy but were rejected by them as being unsuitable.

The team that went for training on the missile boats was led by Commodore BN Thapar; the second-in-command was Captain KK Nayyar. One of the members of the team who subsequently played a key role in the second attack on Karachi was Lieutenant Commander Vijay Jerath. One evening after a hard day’s training at Vladivostok, Captain Nayyar asked the team, ‘Now that you gentlemen are going to command these missile boats, what do you intend to do with them?’ Lieutenant Commander Jerath asked incredulously, ‘Do you mean we should attack Karachi?’ Captain Nayyar responded with a deafening, ‘Yes!’ This was the starting point for the thinking and planning for their ultimate use in the attacks on Karachi. Lieutenant Commander Jerath was asked to write a paper on the subject, which he did in consultation with colleagues. The concept paper was sent to Naval Headquarters through Commodore BN Thapar.

The towing experience from Calcutta to Bombay helped the missile squadron to work out better methods to tow them to Karachi. In May 1971, Admiral Hiranandani was appointed as the Fleet Operations Officer on the staff of Admiral Kuruvilla, who was commanding the Western Fleet. Admiral

Hiranandani suggested that taking the missile boats in tow with the fleet would tilt the scales in any encounter between opposing fleets. The suggestion found favour with the Fleet Commander who examined the proposal and forwarded it to Admiral Kohli, the Flag Officer Commandingin-Chief of the Western Fleet. Admiral Kuruvilla stated that if he had these boats with him at sea, he could guarantee total victory once contact was made with enemy surface units, regardless of their superiority in speed and gun power. Both Admiral Kohli and Admiral Nanda responded enthusiastically to the idea and a series of trials were ordered.

Although these boats were not built or designed by the Russians for an assault role, all subsequently agreed that it was an imaginative and innovative use of a naval weapon platform. The first aspect that needed experiment and research was the maximum speed at which these boats could be towed. Towing them under peaceful conditions from Calcutta to Bombay was itself a difficult task, specially if weather conditions were bad. Towing them at higher speeds under battle conditions was infinitely more difficult. The Naval Dockyard, however, came up with a good arrangement that allowed these boats with full armament, fuel and personnel to be towed at a reasonable speed.

Experiments were carried out with the missile boats in the attacking mode and it was soon apparent on assessment of the defence of Karachi harbour that the missile boats would provide the answer to what would constitute the assault force. As part of the work up, the Missile Squadron also carried out practice missile firing on a BPT (battle practice target) suitably fitted with radar reflectors. The test firings were successful and the confidence and enthusiasm within the rest of the Naval Fleet was infectious.

Karachi was defended by shore-based military aircraft. It was necessary, therefore, to minimize the possibilities of the missile boats being attacked from the air. It was planned that the attacking force would arrive 150 miles

from Karachi at sunset, go in at maximum speed during darkness, carry out the attack, withdraw at maximum speed and be 150 miles away at dawn. Darkness would make it difficult for enemy aircraft to see and attack the force. Notwithstanding all these precautions, the risks were still considerable. However, a calculated risk had to be taken and some losses had to be accepted.

Tension and differences between the Naval Chief and C-in-C Western Naval Command

There were major differences between the Chief of Naval Staff and the C-inC Western Naval Command in their concept plans for the offensive to be conducted in the West. Transition to Triumph – History of the Indian Navy 1965-1975 published by Naval Headquarters in 2000, and Admiral Nanda’s book The Man Who Bombed Karachi lists in detail the meetings and exchanges that took place on this issue. What is of significance, however, is that the differences were soon buried and everyone agreed to follow the Naval Chief’s plan to attack Karachi.³⁰

Signal intercepts that the war was about to start and final orders from the CNS

Soon after this, the situation turned critical when the skirmish described earlier took place on 23 November on the eastern border when two Pakistani pilots were captured after their Sabre jets were shot down over Boyra in Indian territory. This was a major action as thirteen Pakistani tanks were destroyed in a counter-attack launched by the Indian Army and the two countries nearly came to war. Tensions ran high and Pakistan declared a state of emergency. General Yahya Khan made various statements signifying the proximity of war but the bubble did not break.

Then on 1 December a signal was intercepted from West to East Pakistan that warned all merchant shipping not to enter the Bay of Bengal and another signal that directed all civil aircraft to keep away from the Indian border. These signals, intercepted by Eastern Command, were sent to all three service headquarters, as these were indicators that Pakistan was about to go to war within a very short time.³¹ In addition to the good work done by Eastern Command in radio interception and the breaking of codes, Signal Intelligence, which consists of elements of all the three services, did yeoman work in intercepting signal traffic. The Naval element did much to detect and pinpoint the location of Pakistani submarines. The location of the Hangor as given out by them proved to be exactly where she subsequently destroyed the Khukri. Unfortunately those who were responsible for conducting the hunterkiller operations perhaps did not use this information in the best way possible.

Knowing there was very little time before the war to start, the Naval Chief made a quick visit to Bombay on 1 December 1971 itself, along with the Director of Naval Operations to meet the commanding officers of the ships in harbour. Admiral Nanda made it clear that he did not want to see any ships lying in Bombay harbour and that all vessels must be put to sea within the next twenty-four hours. He also told the assembled commanding officers that war was very close at hand and if any one had any doubts about his orders he was welcome to discuss them with him or the Director of Naval Operations. He also told them that if anyone had any misgivings or apprehensions about the strategy, he would be relieved of his command, as he did not expect any one at their level to effectively carry out orders that they were not convinced of.

A narrow escape for the Western Fleet

Although Naval Headquarters had anticipated that, in the event of war, the Pakistan Navy would deploy its submarines off Bombay to attack our fleet

when it sailed out of Bombay harbour, they did not know that a Pakistani Daphne class submarine was in fact already lying in wait outside Bombay harbour. PNS Mangro was in location, outside Bombay from 22 November onwards. On that day itself, she was ordered by Comsubs, Pakistan (Commander Submarines, Pakistan), to arm all torpedoes and on 23 November she was ordered to ‘assume precautionary stage’. This was soon after the Boyra skirmish when Pakistan nearly went to war. The situation quietened down a bit, after that, but it appeared from the statements made by General Yahya Khan that the die was cast and it was only a matter of time when Pakistan would go to war. On 1 December, PNS Hangor, which was patrolling off Porbandar, received orders directing her to replace PNS Mangro which had completed her patrol duty at Bombay. The Pakistani submarine Hangor was in location outside Bombay on 2 December when the Western Fleet moved out. The fleet was now in grave danger.

Submarines locate their targets by means of their radar and sonars used in the active and passive mode. ‘Sonar’ is an acronym for SOund NAvigation and Ranging. It is a device that sends out ultrasonic waves towards the target, particularly ships and submarines, and if contact is made, an indication is received that gives the range, direction and possible depth of the target. The Hangor had very powerful sonars, that could detect targets as far away as 25 nautical miles. She was therefore well aware of the approach of the Western Fleet, which had a cluster of about ten ships. Submarines also detect their targets by using sonars in the passive mode, that is, by just listening to the noise made by the target, which alerts the crew of the submarine that a ship is approaching. The noise made by the sound of the engines and of the propellers of an approaching ship gives away its presence and the amount of noise that was made by so many ships was clearly indicative that it was the Western Fleet that was passing. This was a dream target for the crew of the Hangor or for the crew of any submarine for that matter. It was the sort of a target, the likes of which were unlikely to ever occur again. There was only one problem – the war had not yet started. If the Hangor launched its torpedoes and sank one or more of the ships of the approaching fleet, it would have been an act that would start the war. A grave responsibility, therefore, rested on the shoulders of the captain of the Hangor, Commander Tasnim

Ahmed.

Rear Admiral Raja Menon, of the Indian Navy, a submariner himself, met with the captain of the Hangor, Commander Tasnim, and also his second-incommand, sometime after the war. He learnt from them that on the approach of the Western Fleet, near chaos prevailed in the Hangor, with the captain against attacking the fleet at a stage when war was not declared and others who wanted him to launch the attack irrespective of whether war was declared or not. However, better sense prevailed and the fleet passed over the Hangor unaware of what was happening below them. This incident occurred in the early hours of 3 December 1971 at approximately 0300 hrs.

What must not be forgotten, however, is that none of the warships of the Western Fleet were able to detect the presence of the Hangor. Since the fleet was sailing at high speed, the ability of the ship’s-hull-mounted sonars further deteriorated. This further emphasizes the point that submarines have a great advantage over surface ships in detection of targets – surface or otherwise.

The Pakistan Air Force attacked Indian airfields approximately between 5.40 and 5.45 p.m., the same day, that is, approximately fifteen hours later, without a declaration of war! The crew of the Hangor came to know about this only at 8.20 a.m. on 4 December. The disappointment of the captain and the crew of the Hangor at missing such a dream target was extreme.

The following are excerpts of this incident from Story of the Pakistan Navy:

Hangor slipped in the early hours of 22 November 1971 for a patrol off the Indian Kathiawar coast. On 23 November, when a state of emergency was

declared by Pakistan, Hangor was off Porbundar close to the Indian coast.

On 1 December, she received orders directing her to shift to a patrol area off Bombay vacated by PNS Submarine Mangro on completion of her patrol.

Hangor was on the surface on the night of 2 December when, at 2340, a large formation of ships was detected on her radar on an easterly bearing about 35 miles away… Hangor closed this formation to a range of 26 miles at 0049 on 3 December, when she dived to a depth of 40 metres and tracked the ships on her sonar till the early hours of the morning. A quick sweep by her radar at periscope depth revealed that the formation consisted of six escorts screening a main body of four ships. This was undoubtedly the Western Fleet comprising the cruiser INS Mysore with supporting auxiliaries and her escorts, which had sailed from Bombay on 2 December.

At this time, although an all-out war was raging in East Pakistan, hostilities had not yet broken out in the West. Hangor could not attack these ships as she did not have clearance to do so. It was not until 0820 on the morning of 4 December that Hangor learned about the outbreak of hostilities through the C-in-C’s message received on the submarine broadcast. Frustration and disappointment at missing their prey by such a narrow margin was great for the commanding officer and the crew…

Admiral Nanda, in his book, The Man Who Bombed Karachi, states:

On 1 December 1971, from available intelligence and other inputs coupled with an operational assessment by my operations staff at the NHQ, I came to the conclusion that hostilities were imminent and that there was a possibility of a pre-emptive attack by Pakistani midget submarines on the Western Fleet

in Bombay harbour. I issued orders to get the fleet ships to clear Bombay harbour at the earliest, which subsequent events showed, was just in time. Years later, the wartime commanding officer of the Pakistani submarine Hangor informed me that he had been lying in wait outside Bombay harbour and that the Western Fleet had passed over him on the night of 2-3 December. He had been egged on by many hotheads in the control room to fire his torpedoes but he had refused on the grounds that war had not broken out.³²

Pakistan bombs Indian airfields. The prime minister addresses the nation

On 3 December1971, between 5.40 and 5.45 p.m., Pakistan launched a preemptive air strike at a number of Indian airfields – Srinagar, Avantipur, Pathankot, Uttarlai, Jodhpur, Ambala and Agra. This was a prelude to planned Pakistani land offensives against Jammu & Kashmir, Punjab and Rajasthan. This was an act that signalled that Pakistan was once more at war with India.

Pakistan apparently had two main objectives for her offensive plan in the west. These were:

◆ Take pressure off the beleaguered forces in the eastern theatre

◆ Occupy sufficient territory in the west for possible bargaining after the ceasefire.

The timing of the attack is attributed to the following factors:

◆ Bombing operations on 3 December would be facilitated by a full moon

◆ Attack by Muslims on Friday, their Sabbath, would surprise India

◆ If operations in Kashmir were further delayed, snow would cause hindrance.³³

Although by this time the armed forces were expecting Pakistan to attack at any moment and were ready for the eventuality, the exact date and time was not known and political life had to go on. The prime minister, Indira Gandhi, was away at Calcutta at a political meeting and the defence minister, Jagjivan Ram, was also away from Delhi. Mrs Gandhi’s entourage boarded the plane at Calcutta around 7 p.m. Her party included DP Dhar and JN Dixit and some others. The return to Delhi turned out to be eventful and is best described by Dixit in his book Liberation and Beyond, he says:

As the plane reached the airspace a little east of Lucknow, the pilot of the plane came up to DP Dhar and asked him to come over to the cockpit and speak on the communication system as there was an urgent message from Delhi. Mr Dhar spent about 3 or 4 minutes in the cockpit, came out and spoke to Mrs Gandhi, walked back to us who were sitting behind him and said: ‘The fool has done exactly what one had expected.’ He went on to inform us that General Yahya Khan had carried out pre-emptive air strikes on Indian air bases in northwestern India, in Jammu, Punjab and in Rajasthan. He added that General Yahya Khan had also launched ground attacks against Indian territory. General Manekshaw, the Chief of the Army Staff, had already commenced retaliatory action. Most of northern and north-central India was

under a blackout in anticipation of further Pakistani air strikes.

Mrs Gandhi’s plane instead of flying to Delhi was diverted to the Lucknow airport. We remained at the airport for nearly two hours and took off around 10 p.m., landing at Palam around 10.45 p.m. Defence minister Jagjivan Ram was at the airport to receive Mrs Gandhi. All of us drove directly to the Army Headquarters in South Block. Mrs Gandhi, Jagjivan Ram, Swaran Singh and senior officials went straight into the Operations Room. We were asked to wait outside. General Manekshaw proceeded to brief Mrs Gandhi and her cabinet colleagues about the counter-offensive, which India had launched in the western sector. He also asked Mrs Gandhi’s permission to commence operations in the eastern sector also, which was immediately given.³⁴

Having been assured that all was well as far as military operations were concerned, Mrs Gandhi proceeded to the Cabinet Room in the western wing of South Block to preside over an emergency meeting which she had called for while flying into Delhi. The Cabinet took the decision to declare a state of war with Pakistan, to recognize Bangladesh and to allow the opening of a Bangladeshi diplomatic mission in New Delhi immediately. She then went to her office to prepare for the delivery of her speech to an anxious nation, which was waiting for news from their prime minister. Mrs Gandhi went on air a little after midnight on 3 December 1971 and made her historic address to the nation (see Annexure 3).³⁵

The attack on Karachi

The Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Nanda, having concluded from available intelligence that an attack by Pakistan was imminent, ordered the Western Fleet to clear Bombay harbour by 2 December 1971. The captain of each ship was given sealed envelopes that contained orders for the attack on Karachi.

These were to be opened only on the outbreak of war. The fleet meanwhile cleared Bombay harbour and when war broke out the next day, that is, approximately twelve hours later, the fleet was already at sea. Therefore, when the Pakistani attack on our airfields took place on the evening of 3 December, the navy was in a position to give a near immediate response. The attack on Karachi, however, went in on the night of 4 December. Anticipation, good intelligence and meticulous planning made it possible for the navy to react swiftly, catching the Pakistan Navy off guard. This is surprising, considering that the submarine PNS Hangor had warned Pakistan Naval Headquarters that the Western Fleet had moved.

Initially, the Western Fleet was deployed well to seaward from the Indian coast in an area about 200 to 300 nautical miles from Karachi. The primary role of the Western Fleet was to pose a threat to Karachi. The plan was to remain outside the seaward radius of the operation of Pakistani aircraft by day and to attack by night because these aircraft did not have night attack capability. In this manner the attention of the Pakistani Fleet would be drawn towards the Indian Fleet operating to the west of Karachi, thereby allowing the missile boats to make a thrust from the Saurashtra coast.

Three missile boat attacks were originally planned. These were code-named – Trident (night 4 December); Python (night 6 December) and Triumph (night 10 December).

Operation Trident

The first missile attack on Karachi code-named Operation Trident was conceived, planned and executed by the officers of Missile Squadron 25 KS.

Extensive ‘work ups’ for the commanders and crews of the Osa missile boats were carried out and the drills, firing of practice missiles, navigation and communication were undertaken off the west coast in preparation for the attack. It was found that the missile boats needed to be accompanied by bigger ships for the following reasons:

◆ The bigger ships, namely the Petyas, could carry extra fuel tanks filled with Osa-type diesel in case there was an emergency.

◆ Communication from ship to shore was better on larger ships like the F-15 frigates and the Petyas.

◆ In case anything happened to a missile boat, a larger vessel would make towing it out of the battle zone quicker and easier.

Initial exercises were carried out with the frigate Trishul (Captain Tahliani) of the 15th Frigate Squadron. Captain Tahliani unfortunately broke a leg while horse riding and Captain KMV Nair was appointed captain of the 15th Frigate Squadron and several more exercises were carried out. Meanwhile, the C-in-C decided that the Trishul would not be made available for this task and the Petya class Kadmat (Commander Tony Jain) was nominated instead. More exercises were carried out by the missile boats and the Kadmat to perfect battle drills.

However, at the last moment, just before the commencement of hostilities, the C-in-C once again changed his mind. He withdrew Kadmat and replaced her with Kiltan, which was commanded by Commander KP Gopal Rao, who was able to marry up with the missile squadron only a few hours before the missile squadron was launched for the offensive. Commander Gopal Rao,

therefore, did not have the benefit of the exercises, detailed discussions about the plan, or the intimate knowledge of the crews of the missile boats.

Operation Trident First Missile Attack on Karachi – 4 December 1971

The first missile attack was carried out by the missile boats Nipat (Lieutenant Commander BN Kavina), Nirghat (Lieutenant Commander IJ Sharma) and Veer (Lieutenant Commander OP Mehta). The missile boats were escorted by the two Petyas – the Kiltan (Commander Gopal Rao) and the Katchal (Commander KN Zadu) and were armed with four missiles each.

Meanwhile, Pakistan had warned all merchant ships bound for Karachi not to approach within 75 nautical miles of the harbour between sunset and dawn. This meant that any ship picked up on radar within that distance was most likely to be a Pakistani naval vessel on patrol. Missile boat K-25 Squadron Commander Babru Yadav, placed himself aboard on INS Nipat to lead the first attack on Karachi. Excellent photographs taken by No. 106 Reconnaissance Squadron of the Indian Air Force proved useful in planning the attack on the port and harbour of Karachi.

The Osa missile boats took off in arrowhead formation with Nipat leading, Nirghat to port (on the left) and Veer to starboard (on the right). INS Kiltan was line astern (in line and behind). The Task Group was heading northward for Karachi at high speed hugging the Saurashtra coast. Sunset was at 1812 hrs (6.12 p.m.) IST with a difference of thirty minutes between Pakistan and Indian Standard Time, Pakistan time being half an hour behind us. The oiler (oil tanker), INS Poshak, was stationed midway and her latitude and longitude was made known to the task force. The orders were that maximum missiles should be fired in the first attack, as surprise was considered the dominant factor for overall success. Commander Yadav; (K-25), on board the Nipat giving us the first-hand account, says:

‘We were in arrowhead formation with Nirghat five miles on the port quarter and Veer lagging behind on the starboard quarter. We were about 40 miles from Karachi. I could see a blip on my radar and evaluated it as a warship coming towards me in view of the high rate of closing. I, therefore, ordered

Nirghat to alter course and engage this target. Nirghat altered to port and soon after fired the first missile at a distance of about 20 miles. I ordered him to fire one more missile at the same target which was now about 17 miles. I also requested Kiltan to join Nirghat.

‘Nipat continued to steer north with Veer on my starboard quarter. Two firm contacts developed on my radar at about 25 miles. I fired a missile at each of the contacts. In hindsight, these could have been the Shahjahan and Venus Challenger. By this time, the port of Karachi was about 32 miles and painted clearly on my radar. Veer. which was 8 miles astern, also reported a contact line on her starboard bow. I ordered him to engage this target. The missile immediately locked on and the result was a direct hit which disintegrated the target. By this time the distance between the three boats had opened out. Time and distance precluded the two boats from rejoining Nipat. I, therefore, instructed them to act independently and rendezvous as planned with the tanker Poshak.

‘I continued towards Karachi. Nipat’s radar picked up the Keamari oil tanks and when the range was 18 miles, Nipat fired her third missile. The fourth missile, however, misfired.

‘I could by this time see an explosion on the horizon. I thought this was a warship, as fires leapt into the sky. I then reversed course to get outside the air attack range by first light with the intention of fuelling and returning to Bombay at high speed to rearm for the next missile attack. I then broke radio silence to transmit “Angar" the code for a successful missile attack which was received at MOR (Maritime Operations Room), Bombay, on 4th December amidst great jubilation. Thereafter, we maintained strict radio silence until we arrived at our rendezvous with Poshak.’

Further details from Transition to Triumph clarify the action. The first

Pakistani warship to be destroyed by the missile boat Nirghat was a Pakistani destroyer, PNS Khyber. The Khyber was patrolling the southwest approaches to Karachi and at approximately 2215 hrs (10.15 p.m.) probably appreciated from her radar contact that an enemy force was approaching Karachi. She altered course and increased her speed to intercept us. The closing rate at which the Khyber and the Nirghat were approaching each other was approximately 60 knots. At about 2240 hrs (10.40 p.m.), when the Khyber was within range at a distance of approximately 20 nautical miles, Nirghat fired her first missile. The crew of the Khyber mistook the approaching missile to be an aircraft and opened up with close-range anti-aircraft guns but did not succeed in preventing the missile from hitting her. Her boiler room was hit and her speed greatly reduced. Commander Yadav now ordered the second missile to be fired at the Khyber, which was now 17 nautical miles away. After the second missile hit the Khyber, her speed came down to zero. The ship caught fire and dense smoke emanated from her. She sank soon afterwards. On the radar screen of the Nipat, the Khyber first showed as a blip. After being hit the blip started diminishing in size till it disappeared altogether. The Khyber was no more. She sank about 35 nautical miles south southwest of Karachi. She had mistaken the missiles to be an air attack and had reported accordingly to the Maritime Operations Room, Karachi.

The ships targeted by INS Nipat must have been the Venus Challenger and the Shahjahan. Nipat had fired two missiles – one at the Venus Challenger and the other at the Shahjahan. The first missile scored a direct hit and the Venus Challenger literally exploded. On the radar of the Nipat the first blip appeared to have broken into two and then disappear altogether. The second ship may have been the Shahjahan, which did not sink but must have got damaged. The third missile hit oil tanks at Keamari and set two of them on fire, which raged for two days thereafter. Commander Yadav now wanted to fire his fourth missile but it misfired

On the port side, the Veer had meanwhile identified a Pakistani warship, which was PNS Muhafiz – a minesweeper. One missile was fired at the target and the Muhafiz caught fire and, being made of wood, disintegrated fast and

sank.

Excerpts from the official history of the Pakistan Navy state that:

… the first missile struck Khyber on the starboard side, just below the aft galley in the electrician’s mess deck at about 2245. The ship immediately lost propulsion and plunged into darkness. A huge flame shot up in No.1 boiler room and thick black smoke poured out of the funnel. In complete darkness, the W/T office passed the message to Karachi of being under ‘air attack’. Unfortunately the position transmitted on the wireless set was incorrect, which delayed the rescue of the survivors by almost a day.

The second missile hit the Khyber at approximately 2250 hrs (10.50 p.m. IST) and was engaged by the ship’s close range weapons as the crew thought that this was an attack by enemy aircraft. The second missile hit the No. 2 boiler room on the starboard side. The ship began to list to port. The official history of the Pakistan Navy states:

At 2200 (PST) it was decided to abandon ship when the list to port became dangerous and the ship had become enveloped in uncontrollable fires. By 2215 (PST), it had been abandoned by all those who could leave the ship. More explosions due to the bursting of ammunition continued to rock the ship as men jumped overboard from the sinking destroyer. The Khyber went down at 2320, stern first, with a heavy list to port.

Meanwhile the minesweeper Muhafiz, which was on patrol and was perhaps sent out to assist the Khyber, was in time to witness the second missile fired at the Khyber. The Commanding Officer of the Muhafiz also thought that the wavering ball of light was a star shell and evaluated it as an air attack. She

altered course and headed towards the burning wreckage of the Khyber when she saw a ball of light come hurtling towards her and she suffered a direct missile hit on her port side towards the rear of the ship. Being made of wood she caught fire and disintegrated fast without being able to send out a distress message. The ship’s structure continued to burn while the few survivors floated around the burning debris.

Operation Python Second Missile Attack on Karachi – 8 December 1971

Sketch by Commodore Vijay Jerath, VrC, IN

The Pakistan Navy claim that only the Khyber and the Muhafiz were sunk and that there was no damage to the Shahjahan. However, there is no doubt that the third missile fired by Nipat initially set fire to the oil tanks at Keamari, which took two days of firefighting before it was put out.

Operation Python

After the first missile attack on Karachi on the night 4 December 1971, the Pakistan Navy intensified its aerial surveillance of the approaches to Karachi. A fleet air arm was set up and manned by civilian crews from Pakistan International Airlines (PIA) and the Flying Club. Three to four light aircraft monitored the approaches to Karachi during the day in their sectors covering the entire area in an arc 200 miles from Karachi, from Jamnagar to the Makran coast. At night two radar fitted aircraft covered the same arc. Thus from the afternoon of 5 December, it was difficult for a missile boat to approach within 200 miles of Karachi undetected.

On the morning of 6 December, Naval Headquarters intercepted Pakistan Navy’s signals indicating that the Pakistan Air Force had strafed one of its own frigates PNS Zulfikar after mistaking it for an Indian Navy missile boat.

Admiral Kuruvilla, Flag Officer Commanding the Western Fleet decided to launch the second missile attack named Operation Python from westsouthwest and altered the fleet’s course westward. He split his force into three groups:

◆ The fast frigates of the 15th Frigate Squadron, Trishul, Talwar and Petya class Kadmat to escort missile boat Vinash for the second missile attack on Karachi.

◆ The cruiser Mysore accompanied by Betwa and Ranjit to raid Makran.

◆ The tanker Deepak to continue contraband control.

The primary concern of the Fleet Commander now was to distract the attention of the Pakistan Navy towards the Mysore group so as to reduce the probability of the Karachi group being detected during approach and withdrawal.

The second attack on Karachi was to go in on the night of 6 December 1971. The attack was, however, delayed because the second missile boat which was to join the attack group could not do so. It was felt that it would not be worthwhile to attack with only one missile boat.

By early night of 6 December, the sea was turning rough and it was bad after midnight. In the words of Lieutenant Commander Jerath, the calling off of the attack on the night of 6 December was a godsend, as it would have been extremely difficult to carry out the attack with waves rising as high as six feet.

The next day the weather worsened and considering it would reduce the effectiveness of the light missile boats the attack on Karachi had to be

postponed by one more night. The attack could only go in on the night of 8 December. However, the second missile boat continued to remain unavailable to the fleet and so the second attack had to go in with only one missile boat.

On 7 December, the Pakistan Navy decided to recall all surface ships back to harbour and by the afternoon of 8 December all major surface ships except PNS Dacca had entered harbour. Dacca remained at Manora anchorage because her entry was not possible due to her deep draft and tidal conditions in harbour.

A single missile boat Vinash, supported by two frigates Trishul and Talwar of the 15th Squadron, carried out the missile attack. The Commanding Officer (CO) of Trishul was in charge. During the approach, close to sunset time, 15th Frigate Squadron detected a vessel reporting the presence of the group to Karachi. Talwar was directed to sink the vessel, which she did. At 2300 hrs the group arrived off Karachi and Vinash on radar detected a group of ships on her radar.

◆ The first missile homed on to the oil tanks at Keamari and started a huge fire.

◆ The second and third missiles homed on to a group of ships. It was subsequently learnt that the British vessel Harmatton was set on fire and the Panamanian vessel Gulf Star was destroyed and sunk.

◆ The fourth missile homed on to the Pakistan Navy’s tanker Dacca, which had been camouflaged and anchored amidst the merchant ships because, laden with oil, she could not seek safety inside Karachi port as the other Pakistan Naval ships had done.

It had been planned that the Indian Air Force would attack the Karachi airfields at Masroor and Drigh Road at the same time as the second missile attack. The Trishul group, however, arrived before time and carried out its attack prior to the prearranged time. The air attack commenced soon after. The anti-aircraft guns at Karachi opened up as the Trishul group withdrew unobserved. Post-war intelligence indicated that Karachi’s anti-aircraft guns hit a Greek ship Zoe that went ablaze and sank.

The first missile flew over the ships at anchorage, crossed Manora Island and smashed into an oil tank at the Keamari oil farm. There was a huge explosion and the fire, which had earlier raged for two days and nights, and had just been put out, started once again.

The second missile attack had unexpected results. The Keamari oil tank farm was set ablaze. The huge flames shooting into the sky could be seen by our ships from as far as 60 nautical miles. The IAF pilots who went to bomb Karachi the next morning reported that it was the biggest bonfire in Asia. It raged for seven days and nights, enveloping Karachi in a pall of smoke that shut out the sunlight for three days. It shocked the Pakistan Navy, which promptly recalled all its ships into the safety of the inner harbour and ordered a reduction of their war outfits of ammunition – an act that further demoralized the crew.³⁶

Operation Triumph and Operation Falcon

The third attack, code-named Operation Triumph, was originally planned to take place on 10 December. It required a regrouping of resources and was initially postponed. It finally had to be called off because by the time the new missile group could be rearmed and got ready, the war had ended. The

sinking of INS Khukri and the launching of Operation Falcon, which was tasked to detect and destroy PNS Hangor, the submarine that sank the Khukri, had also resulted in some delays.

Consequences of the attack on Karachi

The daring, bold and innovative tactics adopted by the Indian Navy in its use of the missile boats, backed by the Western Fleet paid handsome dividends. It not only bottled up the Pakistan Navy but also resulted in the remnants being withdrawn into Karachi’s inner harbour. This action by the Pakistan Navy indicated its refusal to fight. In other words, it sent strong signals accepting defeat. To make matters worse, neutral merchant ships in Karachi harbour began to seek permission from the Government of India for safe passage out of Karachi harbour! This meant that neutral merchant ships acknowledged the supremacy of the Indian Navy in the waters around Karachi and in the north Arabian Sea. This in effect was a blockade of Karachi, without any Indian Naval warships being actually present there. The only setback was the unfortunate loss of INS Khukri, which was sunk by the Pakistan submarine PNS Hangor.

Defeat is a great teacher and one can be quite sure that the Pakistan Navy has learnt its lessons well. I am sure that we too have learnt appropriate lessons from our victory at sea. The glow of success and the aura of victory notwithstanding, an objective evaluation of all that we did must have been carried out so that we can do even better next time.

INS Vikrant – Flagship East (Capt S. Prakash, MVC)

Endnotes

2.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p.184.

3.

JN Dixit, Liberation and Beyond, p. 54.

4.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p.154.

5.

Liberation and Beyond, p. 52.

6.

ibid., pp.67, 68.

7.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p.185.

8.

ibid., p.174.

9.

Transition to Triumph, p.118.

10. War Game – an exercise where operational plans are examined by discussing enemy options and likely courses of action against own plans and

carrying out changes, if necessary.

11. Transition to Triumph, p.118 and Man Who Bombed Karachi, pp.188193.

12.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p.188.

13. Midget Submarines are small underwater craft built to carry frogmen to enemy harbours into depths that larger submarines cannot penetrate. The midget submarines acquired by Pakistan could not carry torpedoes. In 1971, the Pakistan Navy had modified two of their midget submarines to carry torpedoes mounted on the hull with an improvised firing mechanism activated from inside the submarine. These submarines were manned by the naval element of Pakistan’s elite Special Service Group. Chariots are smaller underwater craft with one or two men riding ‘horseback’ on it. These were used mostly as an underwater approach to a ship. The crew is able to attach limpet mines on an enemy ship and to move away after setting the timing mechanism which would blow up at the appointed time.

14.

Story of the Pakistan Navy – 1945-1975, p. 277.

15.

Bubbles of Water. p. 296.

16.

Surrender at Dacca, p.48.

17. ‘Flags’ – ADC to a Naval Admiral. Short form for Flag Lieutenant since

he is ADC to a Flag Officer – that is, a Senior Naval Officer entitled to a flag; hence Flag Lieutenant and ‘Flags’.

18.

War in the Indian Ocean, p. 184.

19.

Transition to Triumph, p142.

20. Call Sign – a code sign giving a coded identity to a ship/unit to be used in communicating with other ships/units through radio, telegraphy, or other such means.

21.

War in the Indian Ocean, p.184.

22.

Transition to Triumph, p.142.

23.

Story of the Pakistan Navy, p. 337.

24.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p. 217.

25.

Transition to Triumph, p.142.

26.

Surrender at Dacca, pp. 49, 104.

27.

Transition to Triumph, p.145.

28.

ibid., pp.150, 151.

29.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, pp.206, 207.

30.

ibid., pp.,212, 213.

31.

Transition to Triumph, p.131.

32.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, pp. 218,219.

33.

Commodore Ranjit Rai, A Nation and its Navy at War, p.92.

34.

Liberation and Beyond, pp. 88, 89.

35.

A Nation and its Navy at War, pp.93, 94.

36. The Man Who Bombed Karachi, p. 221. Pakistan naval warships had already been recalled into the safety of the inner harbour a day earlier, that is, on 7 December otherwise more lucrative targets would have been

available.

three

The Sinking of INS Khukri and Survivors’ Stories

‘ And when the last moment of my life should come May I die fighting in the thick of battle. – Guru Gobind Singh

’ INS Khukri was one of the Blackwood anti-submarine frigates built by Britain in the 1950s and inducted into the Indian Navy towards the end of 1959. India was in need of ships for her navy and had to rely on Britain, who had a war debt to repay for India’s efforts to support her during World War II. Two million Indian soldiers fought for Britain. Britain, however, hedged in giving India what she wanted, particularly in terms of submarines, and so we had to accept what was offered. The Khukri, the Kirpan and the Kuthar were designated as ‘second class anti-submarine frigates’ and had only ASW equipment.¹

According to Rear Admiral Raja Menon, the Indian Navy was unhappy with the short-range sonars being given with the Blackwood class of antisubmarine frigates and requested Britain for the better medium-range sonars. The reply given, according to the Admiral, was that the better sonars were to be given only to NATO countries. This is strange considering the relationship between India and Britain, India’s contribution to the war effort during World War II, that India was still part of the Commonwealth and that the sonar was not a lethal weapon.

During the 1971 war these three anti-submarine frigates were pitted against Pakistan’s Daphne class submarines. These submarines were built in France in the late 1960s and were the best conventional submarines of that time. Pakistan had three of them – the Hangor, the Mangro and the Shushuk. These were new submarines and were inducted into the Pakistan Navy approximately three years before the war.²

The range of the sonars aboard the F-14 Squadron, that is, on the Khukri, Kirpan and Kuthar was approximately 2,500 m whereas the detection capability of the Daphne submarines was approximately 25,000 m, that is, ten times more. The Hangor had, in fact, detected our Western Fleet on 2 December when it was more than 20 nautical miles away. This no doubt was due to the anomalous conditions of water due to temperature differences at different layers in the sea; however, it shows the yawning gap in the sonar capability of the Hangor and the F-14 anti-submarine frigates.

The F-14 Anti-Submarine Squadron was part of the Western Fleet that sailed from Bombay on 2 December towards Karachi and was part of the antisubmarine protection for the Western Fleet.

From 22 November 1971, PNS Mangro a Daphne class submarine was on patrol outside Bombay harbour, lying in wait for ships of the Indian Navy.

Another Pakistani submarine PNS Hangor was on patrol in the vicinity of Okha. On 1 December, Hangor received orders to replace Mangro as she had completed her tour of duty outside Bombay. We are already aware of how the Western Fleet passed by the Hangor in the early hours of 3 December. After this incident, the Hangor did try to see if she could take on any suitable targets in the area of Bombay harbour and not finding anything worthwhile moved back to the vicinity of Diu.

The F-14 Squadron was at sea with the Eastern Fleet when the Kuthar suffered a burst boiler and had to be moved back to Bombay. Unable to move under its own steam, Kuthar had to be towed back by INS Kirpan and both ships were escorted by INS Khukri. On their way back, the squadron was very vulnerable as it had one ship being towed, another towing and the third providing escort. En route there were many alarms of submarines. Some were no doubt false alarms and the Khukri, aware of its task to get the squadron safely back to Bombay, attacked these various threats on its own. One of these targets, the crew felt, was definitely an enemy submarine and also that the submarine suffered a hit. The entire attack, including the explosion, was recorded on tape. Aware of the responsibility to get the squadron back to Bombay, the Khukri could not wait for the signs of a hit in the form of oil slicks or flotsam and returned to Bombay on 6 December where she made a claim that she had made contact with an enemy submarine and had damaged or destroyed it but could not produce concrete proof. This particular incident occurred on 5 December 1971.³ The three ships reached Bombay on 6 December.

Being aware of the less than adequate performance of the existing sonars with the F-14 Squadron and some other ships, the Indian Navy had instituted a research project with the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC) to find ways and means by which the performance of existing sonars could be improved. Lieutenant VK Jain, a bright, young, naval officer was working on this project at the BARC. Certain positive outcomes had emerged from the research. These research projects, however, were incomplete. Headquarters Western Naval Command decided it would be a good idea to incorporate the

version of the sonar that was still in the experimental stage at BARC on the Khukri. Lieutenant VK Jain came aboard the Khukri on 6 December, the day the Khukri reached Bombay. Meanwhile, after initial examination of the damaged boiler of the Kuthar it was declared that repairs would take time and the ship would, therefore, not be available immediately for operational service.

That submarines could pick up ship’s sonars at least twice the range of the detection capability of surface ships was known not only to the Indian Navy but to all the navies of the world. However, surface ships had the advantage of much higher speed and manoeuvrability as compared to submarines.

It was about this time, that is on 5 December, that the location of the Hangor was detected by direction finders of the Indian Navy. The direction finders placed the enemy submarine approximately 16 nautical miles away from Diu. Having located an enemy submarine in Indian waters, action had to be initiated to hunt and destroy this submarine before it could damage Indian ships.

The curious part of this incident is that in published material both in India and Pakistan no one examined in depth why the Hangor gave away her location by breaking well-established and accepted procedure by communicating on high frequency (HF) transmissions, as these were likely to be intercepted and her location pinpointed. Some information, however, is available in Bubbles of Water, an anthology of short stories. The story ‘Repairing the air conditioner on patrol’⁴, shows that the Hangor was having trouble with her air conditioner sometime around 1 December and that this was a major repair task and could only be carried out if she surfaced. The risk to do this in enemy waters was immense but the captain took the risk, surfaced, and repaired the air conditioner which, according to his estimate, would take more than a day and a half, that is, thirty-six hours. She apparently informed Karachi of her predicament and asked for orders. Her

HF transmission was, however, intercepted by the Indian Navy direction finders on 5 December and that is how she was located. This happened around 5 December and not the date mentioned in the article, that is, 1 December. If this is correct then there is a connection between the Khukri’s claim of encountering an enemy submarine and damaging it. The area of the encounter and the location of the Hangor and the Khukri match. The only issue is the date. If we accept that the Hangor was ordered to replace the Mangro on 1 December itself and she was off the Kathiawar coast carrying out major repairs estimated to take thirty-six hours which according to the captain of the Hangor were indeed carried out on 1 December. Then she could not be in position off Bombay on 2 December. The Hangor, therefore, could not have been in two places at the same time and it must have been damaged by the Khukri on 5 December as claimed by the surviving crew of the Khukri.

This also brings into sharp focus the issue of the so-called overriding superiority of the Daphne class submarines over the British sonars of 1950s vintage. The incident of 5 December 1971 confirms that if the surface ship takes adequate anti-submarine warfare measures like high speed and frequent alteration of course, then surface ships can hold their own against submarines.

In the 1 December scenario it may have been possible for the Hangor to detect the Western Fleet from wherever she was by radar but she would have not been in a position to do any damage. It is also seen that the East Pakistani officer who was second-in-command of the Hangor, in his dialogue with Commander Manu Sharma stated that the Hangor had an engine problem. Was the engine problem in addition to the problem of the air conditioner and were they caused by the Khukri? And if the Hangor could not be in position off Bombay on 2 December then how valid is the statement that she could have fired at the ships of the Western Fleet but did not because war was not declared? These are questions to which I have not been able to find any answers. Two and two does not make four in this case.

Naval Headquarters now ordered the Western Fleet to hunt and destroy the enemy submarine detected in Indian waters near Diu. This order was passed on to the commander of the F-14 Squadron, Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla. The squadron was, however, now reduced to two anti-submarine frigates, the Kuthar not being available. The two anti-submarine frigates left Bombay for their mission on 8 December and by the morning of 9 December were approaching the reported location of the enemy submarine. This was the ‘Hunter-Killer Force’ according to the TAS (Torpedo and Anti-Submarine specialists) of Western Naval Command!

Due to its long-range detection capability, the Hangor detected the Khukri and the Kirpan much before these two ships were even aware that they were now close to their target. The Hangor came up to view the scene and dived down again and confirmed that the Khukri and the Kirpan were searching for her using the rectangular pattern of search, which is a well-known drill and known to all Commonwealth and NATO countries. Thus it was possible for the crew of the Pakistan submarine to anticipate and work out exactly where and when the Khukri and Kirpan would be at a particular point of time and when they would be most vulnerable. She positioned herself accordingly.

The Khukri and the Kirpan were in blacked-out condition, that is, no lights on these ships were visible. Unaware of the presence of the enemy submarine, they carried out their drills following the laid down rectangular pattern of search. Meanwhile the Hangor waited for them to come within the area most favourable for their destruction.

On board the Khukri, Captain Mulla was having difficulty in coping with the experimental sonar, as this required him to reduce his speed to approximately 12 knots whereas, when conducting hunter-killer anti-submarine operations, speed was essential to out-manoeuvre and destroy a lurking submarine. He was also aware that according to laid-down practice he was required to

zigzag, a procedure to frustrate enemy submarine commanders. This was a tried and tested anti-submarine tactic but it required discipline and vigilance by all watch-keepers. The basic question was: would this not further lower the speed of the Khukri?⁵ Captain Mulla was already irked at having to restrict his speed from more than 14 to 10-12 knots. Would zigzagging be useful if his speed was further reduced? After all he was not evading the submarine, the basic purpose of zigzagging. On the contrary, he was charged to locate and destroy it. For that he needed maximum speed, already denied to him on account of the experimental sonar. He was, therefore, faced with two contradictory requirements – zigzagging to evade the submarine or speed to destroy it. Commander Manu Sharma states the Khukri in fact was zigzagging and if zigzagging further reduced the speed of the Khukri then what speed was she doing when she was hit? Captain Mulla expressed his exasperation to Lieutenant Jain who decided to once again explain to him how the experimental sonar functioned. At this juncture Lieutenant Jain asked for some red and blue pencils to explain this on a chart.

The Hangor, meanwhile, waited for the Khukri and the Kirpan to come to the anticipated location she had decided was the best to fire her torpedoes. The first target, in fact, was not the Khukri but the Kirpan, the first to come within the designated target area. These torpedoes were meant to activate below the keel of the target ship so that it would break the keel and the ship would sink in minutes. The torpedo homed in to the Kirpan but failed to explode due to a faulty mechanism. With the firing of this torpedo, the position of the Hangor was given away and she had the choice of slipping away or staying on and firing another torpedo. Since both ships were still quite some distance away, the Hangor decided to fire another torpedo. The Kirpan was now aware that she had been targeted and would, in fact, have heard the torpedo at least 1000 yards away and could, therefore, take evasive action. The Khukri, however, continued on its course and so the Hangor turned its attention to the Khukri and fired two more torpedoes, one at the Khukri and another at the Kirpan. The first probably exploded beneath the keel of the Khukri near the magazine, breaking it in two and activating the Khukri’s ammunition and the second aimed at the Kirpan did no damage perhaps due to the ability of the Kirpan to take evasive action.

The Khukri sank in minutes. The time was 8.45 p.m. on 9 December 1971.

The Survivors’ Stories

The sinking of Khukri changed many lives – of the surviors their families and family members of those who did not. Their feeling and experiences are worth sharing.

Commander (Retd) Manu Sharma, NM

The Western Fleet sailed out of Bombay harbour on 2 December 1971. We were given sealed orders, to be opened only on orders of Flag Officer Commanding the Indian Fleet (Admiral Kuruvilla). On 3 December orders were received that war had been declared and we could open the first envelope, which gave out the role and aims of the Western Fleet.

The role of F-14 Squadron, was to protect the flagship INS Mysore and the missile boats being towed by other warships. The first attack on Karachi was carried out on the night of 4 December by three missile boats escorted by the Kiltan and the Katchal. At this time our F-14 Squadron was in protection mode of the flagship, INS Mysore. On 4 December one of the ships of our squadron, INS Kuthar, suffered a boiler explosion and was incapacitated. The remaining ships of the squadron, that is, INS Kirpan was ordered to tow the Kuthar to Bombay and the Khukri was ordered to protect the two ships till they reached their destination.

On 5 December, some distance away from Bombay, we made contact with what we felt was a submarine and fired our limbos (depth charges) and I think this was the Pakistani submarine PNS Hangor, which as a consequence of this damage had to surface to carry out maintenance and repairs. It was on 5 December that the Hangor sent out its signal to Karachi regarding its need for repairs, thereby giving away its position and allowing Western Command Naval Headquarters to get a ‘fix’ on its precise location. The Pakistan Navy has not admitted this but the timing of the encounter off Bombay and the damage suffered by the Hangor are too close to be ignored.

This has been confirmed by the second-in-command of the Hangor, a Bengali officer, who was placed under house arrest after the Hangor reached Karachi, from where he escaped to India. He transited through Delhi and I was able to meet him. We spoke about all that had happened and he said the Hangor had a major engine problem but not why or how this happened.

It is my belief that our sonar contact on 5 December was in fact the Hangor and the limbos we fired caused the engine problem. Although we felt our depth charges had hit a target we could not wait to search for debris. We were too vulnerable, considering the Kuthar was without power and the Kirpan was towing her.

On 6 December we reached Bombay and reported the incident to Headquarters Western Command but further investigation and analysis was not possible, as we had no material evidence to offer. It was on this day that our direction finders at Western Naval Command got a ‘fix’ on the location of the Hangor. Our squadron was now placed directly under the command of Headquarters Western Naval Command. It was during this time Headquarters Western Naval Command decided to put some new equipment on the Khukri. This was basically experimental equipment to enhance the capability of the existing sonar on the Khukri by a device being developed at BARC. Lieutenant VK Jain was detailed to sail with the Khukri to try out the new

system. This was on specific orders of Western Naval Command (most likely approved by Admiral Kohli). The equipment had never been tried out and the question why it was to be tried out during the war has never been answered. It was Lieutenant Commander Paul Raj who subsequently successfully worked on the sonar project at IIT Delhi.⁶ Western Naval Command also changed our orders. Instead of joining the fleet, which was operating off Karachi, the Khukri and the Kirpan were placed directly under command of Headquarters Western Naval Command and ordered to proceed to the area off Diu on a search and destroy mission for the Pakistani submarine located in that area.

We were informed the advantage of the new equipment to be tried out was that it had the potential to increase the detecting capability of the T-170 sonar from 2,500 yards to 25,000 yards. The Khukri and the Kirpan waited for the Kuthar to be made seaworthy but the Kuthar could not be repaired in time. We reached our area of operations on 9 December and commenced our operations using the rectangular pattern of search method.

In all that has been written since those days, Captain Mulla has been blamed, by inference, for reducing the speed of the Khukri, which made her a more vulnerable target. What needs to be known is that the higher the speed the greater the noise of the engine and propellers and this interfered with the performance of the experimental equipment mounted on the sonar. The effectiveness of the sonar, therefore, dictated that the Khukri move at a slower speed. I know because I was the Operations Officer. Along with the rectangular search pattern the Khukri and the Kirpan were following a zigzag movement, which is a ‘must’ for anti-submarine search and destroy missions. Persons who say we were not following the zigzag pattern say so because Captain Mulla is not around to defend himself but I would like to categorically state, as the Operations Officer of the Khukri, that firstly, the speed of the Khukri was reduced from 14 to 12 knots only because that was the speed required for the proper functioning of the sensor. Secondly we did follow the zigzag pattern as other survivors will attest. Antisubmarine frigates on such missions need to move at ‘silent speed’, that is, the speed that

generates least engine and propellor noise so that the potential of detection by an enemy submarine is reduced and, at the same time, it helps better detection of enemy targets by own sonars. The ‘silent speed’ of these three frigates of the Blackwood class when they were brand new was 13.5 knots. Prior to the war in 1971 we had carried out extensive trials off Cochin to determine the ideal ‘silent speed’ at which these frigates could operate. These experiments were carried out in conjunction with the Tactical School at Cochin and our own submarines and we came to the conclusion that the best silent speed was around 13 knots. However, due to the experiments being carried out by Lieutenant Jain, the silent speed was further reduced to 12 knots because the noise level at 13 knots was too high and interfered with the new experimental device fitted on the Khukri.

On 8 December 1971, en route to Diu, more extensive trials were carried out by Lieutenant VK Jain in collaboration with the Kirpan to find out how effective the new device would be. The Kirpan was made to open up in distance to 2,500 yards and, on recommendation of Lieutenant Jain and on the basis of earlier research carried out by the BARC team it was decided that 12 knots would be the most effective speed to operate the sonar along with the new equipment. The problem probably was that the tactics we followed at that time were part of standard publications held by both the Indian and Pakistani navies for all tactical and operational manoeuvres. Pakistani naval ships, therefore, knew exactly how we would operate! There are, in fact, 30 to 40 types of searches possible. Depending upon the location of the enemy submarine, in this case the Hangor, and the type of resources available, the Operations Officer of the Khukri along with the Captain would decide what type of search was to be carried out. However, in this instance, Western Naval Headquarters directed us to carry out the rectangular pattern of search and informed us that Seaking helicopters would be on hand and would carry out their own pattern of search.

Seaking helicopters are anti-submarine weapon platforms. They are capable of carrying torpedoes and also sonars called ‘dunking sonars’ because they have to be dunked into the water to work. This sonar is normally dunked into

the sea below what is known as the ‘layer’. The ‘layer’ is a depth of water that is cold and anomalous, which tends to misdirect sonar pulses from warships. Therefore, for these sonars to be effective they have to be dunked below the ‘layer’. The two Seaking helicopters operating with the Khukri and the Kirpan were powerful deterrents to the Hangor. The Hangor knew that the Seakings were operating because their dunking sonars indicated that they were present in the area. What the Hangor did not know was that the Seakings were not armed! Submarines are capable of detecting every type of sonar and in ‘listening mode’ can identify a ship by its sonar pattern. As long as the Seakings were operating in the area, the Hangor did not dare surface. Knowledge of the combined potential of the Seaking helicopters and that of the Khukri and the Kirpan prevented the Hangor from operating against our ships. The Hangor was not worried about the Khukri and the Kirpan because she knew full well that her own potential was ten times more. But when she found out late on the evening of 9 December that the Seakings were not around she got bold and took the opportunity to surface to periscope depth to find out what pattern of search the Khukri and the Kirpan were carrying out. She noted that it was the rectangular pattern of search. Being fully conversant with this pattern she knew exactly what to do to destroy the frigates.

To clarify further, the Hangor had an engine problem and as long as she could hear the pings of the Seaking sonars she would not even dare to surface. So when the pings stopped, she reckoned the Seakings were not around and decided to come to periscope depth to see what the Khukri and the Kirpan were doing. She knew in the absence of the Seakings she was far superior to the frigates. Knowing this, and that surface ships had greater speed, she decided to take a position and wait at a depth below the ‘layer’. Those of us in India and Pakistan who know how the rectangular search operates would know that each side of the rectangular search would vary between 10 to 15 nautical miles and if I was captain of the Hangor I would wait on the seaward leg of the rectangular search pattern and then wait for the frigates to come on the second or third leg of their rectangle and then situate myself accordingly to fire my torpedoes.

Reconstructing the event, this is exactly what must have happened. When the Hangor put up her periscope the Khukri and the Kirpan must have been on the northern side of the rectangle, closer to the coast. As a result, the Hangor could take a suitable position and predict approximately when and where the Khukri and Kirpan would come closer to her, so she lay in wait. The Seakings had a separate area of search eastward of the rectangle being searched by the Khukri and the Kirpan and had they been there, the Hangor would have been detected. The Seakings had, however, departed from the scene of action between 1700 and 1800 hrs of 9 December because their reliefs had failed to arrive and they were running out of fuel. The Khukri and the Kirpan were informed that the Seakings were leaving and their reliefs would be in within an hour.

Western Naval Command was using high frequency (HF) radio to communicate with the fleet and radio silence was being maintained except for extreme emergencies. Communication with the Seakings was on ultra high frequency (UHF) transmission because enemy submarines could not intercept UHF communication. Communication by the Hangor was on low frequency (LF) transmission or very low frequency (VLF) transmissions and interceptable by our direction finding (DF) stations.

After the Seaking helicopters left, their reliefs never came and this gave the Hangor the opportunity she was looking for.

On 8 December we sailed from Bombay and on the morning of 9 December 1971 we reached the patrol area and commenced the rectangular search between 1000 and 1100 hrs approximately. We were in touch with the Seaking helicopters operating southeast of our patrol area. Whereas we could see where the Seaking helicopters were operating we were kept in the dark as to where and how they were operating. We subsequently learnt that one of our maritime reconnaissance aircraft also had evidence of a Pakistani submarine on their radar. Now, normally in hunter-killer operations, it is the

naval surface ship that is in command of such operations and all information and intelligence, including maritime reconnaissance operations by other ships, weapon platforms and information gathering devices, is fed to the surface ship in charge of operations, in this case, the Khukri. The surface ship coordinates and controls operations. Control of this operation, however, remained with Western Naval Headquarters in far away Bombay and the Khukri was not given any inputs. Proper coordination of the hunter-killer operation, therefore, was poor. The Khukri and Kirpan were given their area of search and the Seaking helicopters were given their area of search southwest of the Khukri and the Kirpan.

After the Seaking helicopters left, Captain Mulla was apprehensive about the situation. Being on ‘action stations’ continuously since 2 December was a great strain. Officers were required to be relieved for meals and sleep. The Operations Room had to be continuously manned, communications were also always maintained, so also were all weapons. Therefore, instead of a day of three shifts of four hours each we were at action stations, where duties became 50-50, that is, four hours on and four hours off. Captain Mulla was on the bridge continuously as also myself as Operations Officer, Lieutenant Kundan Mall, Officer of the Watch, who was the Navigation Direction Officer and Sunil Singh, the Midshipman on training working for his watchkeeping ticket. Also the Quartermaster, who was doing the steering just next to the bridge. Captain Mulla at around 8.30 p.m. went down for a break for about ten minutes and on his return he asked me whether I had heard anything about the replacement of the Seaking helicopters and their duties. I confirmed they had not come which in effect meant that their area of search was not being patrolled. He was also concerned about the speed of the ship and to what degree the sonar capability was affecting it. He wanted to know if the speed could be increased without adversely affecting the sonar capability. At that time the Khukri was doing 12 knots. This information was passed on to Lieutenant Jain, who decided that he could best explain the situation with coloured pencils. Lieutenant Jain proceeded to the sonar room, which was close to the bridge. Soon after the Khukri was struck.

There were two massive explosions, one after the other, and the Khukri keeled on to one side by about fifteen degrees. The Captain was thrown off his chair and he hit the bulkhead and cut his head quite badly. Immediate loss of power followed the second explosion. The Captain also ordered ‘Full Ahead’ – for both engines – but there was no response as due to loss of power no communication was possible between the bridge and the engine room.

Captain Mulla ordered me to see what had happened and I went to the Flag Deck area and looked down. I saw the Khukri down by the stern and flames coming from the funnel and the ship started tilting to starboard, presumably because of intake of water caused by the large holes made by the two torpedoes.

I stepped back from the Flag Deck area, the area close to the bridge, and recommended that Captain Mulla should order ‘Abandon Ship’ as the ship was definitely sinking. There was, however, no means by which we could communicate these orders to the crew of the ship, as there was no power supply. So Kundan Mall and I started yelling out orders to abandon ship through the ship’s blower, and outside.

At the same time Captain Mulla and those of us who were on the bridge were trying to help the sailors coming up the only escape route, which was open from the decks below to the top. Sailors trying to come up through this narrow stairway, however, choked the staircase. The situation was made worse by those who were wearing their life jackets, which were very bulky (they were made of some bulky synthetic material) and obstructed space, causing further delay when every moment was precious: the ship was sinking fast and had tilted dangerously towards starboard and water had started flooding the bridge. Water created a major hazard in sealing the only escape route. The escape route was limited to one because during ‘action stations’ all hatches and doors are closed; leaving just a few stairways open. In this case

the stairway near the stern was already under water and, therefore, the only escape route that passed through the bridge was choked by sailors trying to clamber to safety. Kundan Mall and I continued pulling out sailors from this hatch and some of them started jumping overboard.

Once the level of the water reached the bridge and the tilt of the ship was nearly ninety degrees, Captain Mulla pushed Lieutenant Kundan Mall and me off the bridge. We tried to take him along with us but he refused and ordered us to jump to safety. We both jumped into the sea from the starboard side. The sea was on fire, with all the fuel ablaze, so we had to dive under the fires in order to swim to safety. When I cleared the part of the sea which was on fire and came up on the other side, I looked for Kundan Mall, who was a good swimmer, but I could not see him anywhere.

I looked at the ship at this point of time and saw that its bow was pointing upwards at an angle of eighty degrees and sinking slowly. The light of the fires illuminated the ship. I got a glimpse of Captain Mulla sitting on his chair and hanging on to the railing. He was still smoking a cigarette. I could also see a few sailors hanging on the fo’c’sle (the forward part of the ship) of the Khukri, which was near vertical. They were clinging on to the guard rails desperately attempting to stay above the water. Most of them remained hanging on and went down with Captain Mulla as the Khukri with a great sigh finally slid into the water. As the Khukri finally sank there was a great suction effect taking a lot of sailors and debris in the vicinity down with her. A number of sailors who had tried to swim through the fires were badly burnt and many of those who were thrown out of the ship by the explosion had lost their limbs. There was much shouting for help but as the Khukri went down there was an eerie silence for a moment, as all were awestruck by the sinking ship.

As the ship went down, a number of fires were put out by the resultant suction. The cries for help now resumed. Those who were not injured tried to

help their injured comrades to hang on to some of the debris floating in the vicinity. Due to the explosion some of the rafts were thrown out off the ship and were also floating in the area. I, along with other uninjured sailors, tried to get as many sailors to the safety of the rafts, but as the capacity of the rafts was limited many of us opted to hold on to the edge of the rafts and remained in the water and put the injured and those who were suffering from burns on board the rafts. Two of the rafts remained close to each other whereas the third raft drifted quite far. The water was icy cold, it being December, and the sea was very rough with the waves five to six feet high.

We were hoping that the Kirpan, our sister ship would come to rescue us but we saw her sailing away from the area. Knowing there were no other ships in the vicinity we realized we had to fend for ourselves. Some of us took turns to get on to the raft as the water was icy cold and while on the raft we had to keep a lookout for aircraft and ships to help us. We were also concerned about the submarine resurfacing and taking some of us as prisoners of war so I got rid of my rank epaulets (badges of rank). At one stage in the middle of the night a maritime reconnaissance plane flew quite low over us. We fired a flare to attract its attention but we went undetected.

The next morning another aircraft flew over us and threw us some supplies but we could not retrieve them because the sea was too rough. It was a great relief, the next morning around 1000 hrs (10 a.m.), when we saw a Petya closing on us. This was INS Katchal, which took us on board. All the survivors were given blankets and hot beverages. One of the sailors had meanwhile succumbed to his injuries and died on the raft. We gave him a sea burial, conducted by the captain of the ship, Captain Zadu. The body was wrapped in the National Flag and the ship’s bell was rung to honour the dead.

In light of my qualification as communications officer, I took on the responsibility of helping Captain Zadu control the search and rescue effort and I continued being in charge of communications when the hunt for the

escaping Hangor commenced. I came to know later that this was called Operation Falcon. This operation continued till 16 December when the ceasefire took place.

Subsequent to this whole incident, I was posted to the Cabinet Secretariat and I had the opportunity to have an informal meeting with the second-incommand of PNS Hangor, an officer from East Pakistan who was placed under house arrest when the Hangor reached Karachi. He had escaped from there and was on his way to Bangladesh via Delhi. He said:

(a) PNS Hangor had a mechanical problem on 5 and 6 December and had requested Pakistan Naval Headquarters for permission to return to Karachi. It is a moot point whether this was the outcome of our encounter with a submarine on 5 December 1971 off Bombay and whether this was the cause of the reduced capability.

(b) He also said that the crew of the Hangor was very apprehensive to take any action against the Khukri and the Kirpan because of the proximity of the Seaking helicopters and it was only when the Seakings did not reappear that they decided the opportunity was too good to lose and they should take on the Khukri before the Seakings returned and then head for Karachi, for which permission had been received. However, between sinking the Khukri and her arrival at Karachi Operation Falcon came very close to destroying her. Two depth charges had bracketed the Hangor but the final destructive blow never came. Operation Falcon pulled out all stops and every available resource was used to hunt the Hangor but we failed to get her.

The Hangor escaped probably because it headed out to sea and did not return to Karachi by following a route close to the coast, for if she did the Seaking helicopters would have detected and destroyed her.

Commander (Retd) Anil Kakkar

I joined INS Khukri on 28 November 1971. I was a Sub Lieutenant, with very little service. I was given duties on the bridge of the ship as Officer of the Watch to earn my watch-keeping ticket. As I had a bit of a science background, I was also subsequently appointed as assistant to Lieutenant VK Jain.

The Khukri along with the Kirpan and the Kuthar were antisubmarine frigates with about twenty years of ship life. They were commissioned into the Indian Navy sometime around the late 1950s. These anti-submarine frigates, F class, were the best the British were prepared to give us at that time. The quality of the sonar equipment that came along with the ships was less than satisfactory; one of the limitations was its short range. The sonar range of the Daphne class submarines held by Pakistan at that time were far superior and could detect the presence of our frigates much before our frigates would be aware of them. We had limited options in the purchase of naval craft at that time. We had to take whatever was given by the country exporting these ships.

Meanwhile, the Khukri had already left Bombay along with the Western Fleet on 2 December 1971. The Khukri had two other sister ships INS Kirpan and INS Kuthar sailing along with it as part of the same squadron. After the ships left Bombay harbour, fresh instructions were received sometime on 3 December 1971 regarding our task and destination, for by then war had broken out between the two countries. I learnt we were proceeding to Karachi. Halfway, INS Kuthar developed a fault and had to be towed back to Bombay by the Kirpan, with the Khukri providing escort for the two ships. On reaching Bombay we were told that Lieutenant Jain, who was an officer from the technical branch of the navy, had developed a system that could enhance the range of the existing sonar equipment held by the F class anti-

submarine frigates. Lieutenant Jain, if I remember correctly, boarded the Khukri on 6 December 1971. A team of three sailors and I were detailed to assist him with his experiments.

The existing sonar systems on board the Khukri were Type 170 and Type 174. Type 170 was considered to be slightly better because the echo of an intercepted target was slightly clearer. The range of each of the systems was approximately 2,500 yards, that is, approximately 2 nautical miles whereas the range of the sonars aboard the Daphne submarines was approximately 25,000 yards, that is, approximately 20 nautical miles. The intention of Lieutenant Jain was to extend the range of the existing sonar systems to approximately 10 nautical miles. The options were to link Lieutenant Jain’s system to the transducer of one of the two systems, that is, Type 170 or Type 174.

Sound waves travel in the air at 335 metres per second, that is, mach 1 whereas they travel in water at 1,675-1,700 metres, that is, 5-6 times the speed that sound travels in air. The ranges of our antisubmarine weapons, however, were very limited and far less than the range of the sonar systems. Therefore, the frigates could not destroy a submarine on detection but had to close up to the target – a very difficult manoeuvre because the sonar system of the Daphne class submarine of Pakistan was nearly ten times better. The Indian anti-submarine frigate was, therefore, like a blindfolded warrior against an opponent that could see perfectly and at a much longer distance. Considering the tremendous disadvantage that the frigates faced vis-à-vis the submarine’s sonar capability, it would mean that, as and when an antisubmarine frigate of the Khukri class detected a submarine, the logical answer would be evasion rather than search and destroy missions and other means found to destroy the enemy submarine. The only other option in such a situation would be to increase its speed so that the submarine would have to take a new fix to be able to destroy the surface vessel and this it may have found difficult to do because it could feel threatened. However, considering that Pakistan’s Daphne class submarine could detect a target at more than 25,000 yards it could, therefore, realign itself and launch its torpedoes well

before the anti-submarine frigate would even be aware of the presence of the submarine.

As far as utilization of Lieutenant Jain’s equipment was concerned, Captain Mulla was faced with the option of it being used in conjunction with the Type 170 or Type 174 sonar. The efficacy of Lieutenant Jain’s equipment was yet to be proved. Therefore, rather than compromising the better system, Captain Mulla decided to link Jain’s system with the Type 174 sonar and to keep the better system free to be able to use it in a tight situation.

Now when the sonar being used to detect the target enhanced its range with the help of Lieutenant Jain’s equipment, it took longer for the echo to return thereby slowing down detection. Lieutenant Jain explained the working of the new system to Captain Mulla in my presence and in the presence of the antisubmarine torpedo officer and Lieutenant Kundan Mall, the Navigational Direction Officer. Captain Mulla gave much thought to the issue of detection time, response time for firing antisubmarine weapons and the overall effect of speed on the Khukri. Detection of targets at sea is not only through the active method of using sonar but also through the passive method of listening to the noise that the ship’s engine and propellers make at sea.

Lieutenant Jain’s system also began to pick all types of echoes. The system would indicate the presence of a target and these proved to be false. This happened three to four times. The system perhaps responded to large shoals of fish, whales and large eddies of water, resulting in the Khukri launching attacks on targets that did not exist. This not only resulted in waste of antisubmarine ammunition but also lowered the credibility of the system.

On 8 December 1971 strong electronic impulses were received off Porbandar, approximately 100 nautical miles northwest off Diu head. This happened after three to four false alarms. Each time this happened, a number of anti-

submarine bombs had to be fired at these ‘ghost’ submarines, thereby depleting the anti-submarine depth charges the Khukri held. Captain Mulla now faced the dilemma of either attacking a possible submarine or taking evasive action so as to conserve ammunition for a real engagement with the enemy and, therefore, not to prosecute every (false) echo. Taking evasive action would force the submarine to remount her attack. Captain Mulla decided to alter direction and he took evasive action, as he was not sure these were valid targets. After this happened two or three times Captain Mulla began to doubt the reliability and effectiveness of the sonar system and the equipment being tried out by Lieutenant Jain.

On the evening of 9 December 1971, the system produced an echo indicating the presence of what could be a submarine and Captain Mulla decided to take evasive action. This time the target may have been the Pakistan submarine PNS Hangor. After taking evasive action, Captain Mulla altered course so as to prosecute the target; however, there was no further confirmation of the presence of a submarine. The Khukri and the Kirpan now decided to carry out an anti-submarine search adopting a pattern of search commensurate with the situation.

It was the custom on board the Khukri to broadcast to the crew the evening news, so that the crew would also know what was happening in the world outside of the Khukri. The start of this news broadcast shall forever be imprinted on my mind. The broadcast started off with ‘Yeh Akash Vani hai, ab aap Ashok Bajpai se samachar …’ the word samachar was not completed when the first torpedo hit the Khukri. I felt a major jolt when it struck and all power and lights went off. Being inexperienced (I had by then very few days of experience at sea), I had no idea as to what had happened.

Just before the torpedo struck the Khukri, Captain Mulla, Lieutenant Jain and I were on the bridge as the ship was at ‘action stations’ for quite a while. Captain Mulla, in fact, was mostly on the bridge – he rarely, if ever, left the

bridge. Lieutenant Jain asked me to go down to get some coloured pencils to draw a more comprehensive diagram in order to be able to explain to the Captain how the sensor was working in conjunction with the Type 174 sensor. A coloured diagram, he felt, would explain the working of his equipment better.

I had just gone down to my bunk to fetch the pencils and was moving back to the bridge when the ship was struck. The Khukri shuddered and the lights went out, the emergency lights came on and I noticed that the ship’s gyro failure alarm started ringing. The gyro room was located close to my bunk. As I said earlier, I had no idea a torpedo had hit the ship. I started making my way towards the bridge. The activation of the ship’s emergency lights and the ringing of the gyro alarm system, however, caused serious concern in my mind. I lifted one of the ship’s blinds that covered a porthole and looked out and I was astonished to see that the after part of the ship was burning and I now heard a series of loud explosions that shook the ship violently. This could be due to the anti-submarine ammunition, which was stored in a magazine just above the propeller, exploding or it could be that the Khukri was struck by another torpedo. After this, things moved very fast. Soon after the second explosion, the ship started listing very rapidly towards starboard. By the time I had climbed ten steps of the companionway (ladder) that connected with the bridge, the Khukri had listed more than thirty degrees towards starboard (the right side of the ship when facing forward). I now found it difficult to climb the companionway and I had to hold on to the railing with both hands. I reached the sonar room where Lieutenant Jain’s team had been working but could not see anyone there, as the room was very dark. With great difficulty I tried to make my way up the next companionway towards the bridge. I realized now that the ship was sinking rapidly and that the best escape route for me was via the bridge. The ship had by now listed by about forty-five degrees. I remembered I had placed my life jacket below the radar but when I now searched for it I found it missing.

I sensed the port side would be the better side to get off the ship and with great difficulty I managed to cross on to the bridge. At this moment I saw

Captain Mulla on the bridge. He was calm and collected, as if he had made up his mind to go down with his ship. The Khukri had now listed to about forty-five degrees and Captain Mulla was holding on to the guard rail and the ship started sinking very rapidly. It was now totally dark and the water was soon well over my head. I realized I was trapped between the awning and the bulwark of the bridge, the gap between them being about one and a half feet. I sensed that the Khukri was perhaps on its side. The ship however started to sink vertically, as the weight of the water in the stern pointed her skyward. The Khukri had by then gone down by about thirty feet below the sea level and I thought this was the end, when all of a sudden, some air trapped in the ship tried to escape and this escaping air with great force pushed me out from where I was trapped. While I was going down with the ship I must have swallowed a lot of water and fuel. I came up coughing and spluttering and my left eye was burning, probably due to ship’s fuel. In retrospect, I think I was very lucky not to have been able to locate my life jacket, which was made of some synthetic material with a thick canvas cover. If I had found and worn my life jacket, I would have remained stuck between the awning and the bulwark of the bridge and the air escaping from below would not have been able to push me out.

When I came to the surface I could not see much for it was very dark and there were fires still burning on the surface of the water. The sea was very cold. I could however hear a lot of people shouting ‘Bachao, Bachao (help, help)’. While I was looking around for something to hold on to, a wooden grating came my way and I grabbed hold of it. I could not see much due to the waves and the darkness. I was alone. After about fifteen-twenty minutes a boat hook came along and I grabbed it with my other hand. There were five or six men holding on to it already and someone said, ‘Are chod do – kya ho gaya?’ I told them who I was and that we needed to stay together till help came.

The Khukri was about 45 nautical miles off Diu head when it was struck and the sea around these parts, as also the sea all along our coastline at this distance, is teeming with all kinds of sea life. Whilst thinking about this, I

suddenly sensed what felt like a snake entwined around my leg. I lashed out by kicking violently at what I believed to be a snake and suddenly a huge raft billowed up in front of us. What I had mistakenly thought to be a snake was in fact the painter (rope) of a life raft and by kicking at it violently I had accidentally activated its inflating mechanism and it straight away ballooned up with air and inflated to its full size. By this time I was covered with oil and the side of the raft was about three feet high. I had to make many attempts to get on to the raft but kept slipping off before I finally managed to get into it. This life raft was apparently designed to hold approximately twenty persons but as we kept on picking up sailors we soon had about thirty personnel on one raft.

We got into the life raft at about 10 p.m. The first torpedo struck the Khukri at exactly 8.45 p.m. We remained in the life raft the whole night. We were all wet and most of us were covered with oil. Some of the sailors were badly burnt due to the oil on the surface of the sea that had caught fire. One of them who had suffered 75 per cent burns died during the night. By early next morning of 10 December 1971 we could see the other lifeboats spread over an area of about 2 square miles.

At daylight we saw a Canberra aircraft above us in the sky and tried desperately to attract its attention. We tried to use heliography and other methods to draw attention and to indicate our position but it went past us and continued to search the area. It then flew past and the pilot must have finally seen us and informed the shore authorities and INS Katchal and Kirpan about us, because these two ships came and picked us up and the survivors of the other rafts by about 11 a.m. By then we had been in the sea for over fourteen hours. After picking up the survivors from our raft and the other two surviving rafts, the Katchal continued to join with the rest of the task force to hunt the enemy submarine down. INS Katchal continued the hunter-killer mission till 14 December 1971 when the hunt was finally terminated. We returned to Bombay and were hospitalized. We were granted thirty days special leave called ‘survivor leave’ and finally I was posted to another ship.

Lieutenant Commander SK Basu, NM

My story starts from the time the Khukri, Kirpan and Kuthar were detached from the Western Fleet after the Kuthar burst her boiler and had to be towed back to Bombay. We were close to Karachi at that time. The Kirpan had to tow the Kuthar and the Khukri provided escort.

I joined the Khukri on 5 March 1971. I had approximately two years service and was a Sub Lieutenant at that time. On our way back to Bombay we had sonar contacts with an enemy submarine. We attacked the target with depth charges and projectiles. During one such attack we heard an underwater explosion after one of our depth charges was fired. We then carried out searches to locate any signs of debris, or an oil slick, but nothing came up to the surface of the water.

On reaching Bombay we were told that the Kuthar would not be available for operations. Both the warships INS Khukri and Kirpan were tasked for hunterkiller operations for several days in an area south of Daman and Diu.

On the morning of 9 December 1971 we got underwater submarine contacts some distance ahead of the ship and at other times in various other directions. All these targets as reported to the bridge from the sonar room were homed on to and the contacts were attacked when within attacking range of the ship, with projectiles and depth charges. Sometimes hand grenades were fired when the estimated depth of the submarine was assumed to be shallow. Despite all our efforts we could not see any evidence of the destruction of an enemy submarine.

On the fateful day of 9 December 1971, I was the Officer of the Watch (OOW) from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. During this period, proper under water investigations were carried out by our sonar equipment. Whenever there was a report of an underwater contact from the sonar room, the target was investigated and attacked, when considered necessary. All these attacks, however, had no positive outcome.

I distinctly remember, on the evening of 9 December, I got a clear contact on our radar scan at about 6.30 p.m. at a range of about 3 nautical miles. It was very unusual to get a radar contact in that area. The surface contact was very clear, distinct and steady. Lieutenant Kundan Mall, who was a specialist Navigation Direction officer, was near the bridge and I told him to examine the radar contact. By the time we were able to assess the situation, the contact disappeared from the radar scan. In fact a disappearing radar contact is a confirmation of a submarine presence in that area. We continued with our hunter-killer operations to achieve our mission.

At 2000 hrs I handed over watch to Sub Lieutenant Khanzode and went straight to the ‘cowshed’. The cowshed was a small compartment on INS Khukri where all the junior officers used to stay. After refreshing myself, I went to the wardroom for dinner, so that I could come back quickly to catch up with sleep, as I had to go back for duty on the bridge at midnight. On board Khukri half of the ship’s company and officers were closing up for watch at their respective defence stations and the other half were resting or catching up with sleep.

Lieutenant Sharma was in the cowshed. He was the senior-most among the junior officers and also the gunnery officer of the ship. He told me to switch on the radio and listen to the news. That time our morale was very high after attacks on Karachi harbour by our fleet. That was the time all thirteen ships sailed together under the command of Flag Officer Commanding Western Fleet, Rear Admiral Kuruvilla.

As I switched on the radio around 2100 hrs, almost simultaneously I heard a loud explosion and the entire ship shook. The gyro room was next to the cowshed, and the gyro alarm started ringing. I thought it was ‘action alarm’ and I rushed to my action station, which was the bridge.

As I was climbing up the stairs towards the bridge, many sailors had already come up to the staircase and were all waiting for further orders through our broadcast system. At this moment, there was another hit by a torpedo. The position of the hit was probably near the boiler room just below the wardroom. With this hit, the ship’s propulsion and power generation system totally failed. There was total darkness everywhere. The staircase passage was pitch dark and the bridge was also in darkness. After the second hit I had the feeling that the ship had sunk a bit, as the boiler room was flooded.

When I reached the bridge, I heard Captain Mulla telling the Chief Yeoman to make a signal to FOC-in-C West (Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief Western Naval Command) that we had been hit. Chief Yeoman Prosperin with his torch light was writing down the little message. Just at this time there was a third hit. With this hit the ship lost its stability and started listing to starboard.

I was quite a junior officer at that time. In the darkness I was trying to assess what was happening. Nothing was visible around the horizon. Captain Mulla was telling the others to leave the ship and get into the sea. Before I could understand anything I found the water had risen up to my knee. I had the habit of keeping my life jacket on the bridge where I used to close up for watch. This no one told me but I chose this place as most of the time I was working on the bridge. Others kept their life jackets in their own cabins or in the cowshed. You may call this act of mine as providential or instinctive.

When Captain Mulla started telling others on the bridge to leave the ship, I saw Lieutenant Kundan Mall crossing the guard rail on the bridge deck and getting into the sea. Some other officers also crossed the guard rail and got into the sea. I took my life jacket and followed suit.

The bridge was on the fourth deck from sea level. The bridge is normally forty feet above the water line. When I got into the water, the bridge and sea was almost level. Captain Mulla looked at me and said ‘Bachu Utro, (Little fellow get down).’ I got into the choppy Arabian Sea that night leaving the solid safety of the steel deck.

The moment I got into the water, I started swimming away from the vicinity of the ship and from the fires in the water. The huge mast was leaning towards the starboard side as the ship had taken a starboard list. Once I had got quite clear from the ship I saw the ship’s forward portion suddenly go straight up with a loud noise probably due to the shifting of equipment and material within the ship. Personnel were shouting for help, but nobody could see anyone in the darkness.

In the background of all this noise and confusion the Khukri started sinking with her stern down. In a matter of moments, it vanished from our sight forever.

We had lost our battleship. It was a very sad moment for us. That night 18 officers and 176 sailors lost their lives and we who survived lost our colleagues, but their memories will remain with us forever. Our fate now was uncertain. I remembered that when I went for dinner at around 8.15 p.m., I saw Lieutenant Commander Prabhat Kumar (Electrical Officer), Lieutenant Sapra (Assistant Supply Officer), Commander Rajat Sen (Supply officer),Commander Omen (Commander Engineers) in the wardroom. My batch-mate Sub Lieutenant Shashi Prakash was in the cowshed. So also was

Lieutenant Sharma and Midshipman Patil. It is my firm belief that all the officers who were in the wardroom perished with the second hit; since the approximate position of the torpedo hit was below the wardroom.

Once in the open sea and floating, I saw Sub Lieutenant Sandhu struggling hard to keep himself afloat. I told him not to exert too much and try to float. I told him to take my support and float. But he left me and tried to swim by himself. He, however, got exhausted soon and within minutes he went down into the sea, never to be seen again.

Very soon a crowd of young signalmen and some young sailors gathered around me. Some had gulped sea water along with furnace oil, which was floating above the surface of the sea. This furnace oil had spilled out from the fuel tank of the Khukri. I gave them courage and told them that my face and eyes were also smeared with furnace oil and I also had a burning sensation on my face but I was not giving up. I told them to take my support when they felt tired. Those who had swallowed sea water along with furnace oil were vomiting. Some were unable to keep themselves afloat, being sick. I encouraged them and promised them support.

In the meantime a large group had gathered in our vicinity. Lieutenant Commander Manu Sharma was also somewhere close by. Those who could remain afloat were anxious, distressed and worried, but all still hoped to remain alive. An early rescue was what everyone hoped for. We thought that at least INS Kirpan would send her boat for our rescue, but no rescue boat came from INS Kirpan. I was a good swimmer. I used to swim for two to three hours in the morning everyday at Rabindra Sarovar, Calcutta, prior to joining the navy and I therefore had the confidence and ability to remain afloat for hours.

Prior to sailing to Bombay, INS Khukri was on patrolling duty in the Indian

Ocean and was based in Cochin for sometime. While at Cochin, I had bought a brand new motorbike for Rs 3,500 from a showroom. I had hardly used it when INS Khukri was ordered to proceed to Bombay. All the while I was in the water struggling to survive, I kept thinking about my motorbike. It was my only possession and I loved it. This helped me divert my mind from the crisis and somehow gave me the motivation to survive and in turn I could motivate others who were close by, especially those sailors who had given up hope.

Mother Nature seemed to be against us. The wind was strong, the sea swell was high and the night was very cold. While in the water we worried about sharks. All of us who were floating in the open sea prayed for an early rescue. Most of us now began to suffer from exhaustion. Due to the furnace oil, our lips and eyes were burning. Some continued to vomit. All of us just kept hoping and waiting to be rescued. We waited and waited for a boat to come to our rescue. About forty minutes after the sinking of the Khukri, we could see three lights at some distance. At first we thought that the enemy submarine had surfaced or that the Kirpan may have sent their boat or it might be fishing boats. We shouted, ‘One, Two, Three – Help’ again and again. But the lights never came towards us. All of us were desperate to survive and these lights offered some hope. We all started swimming towards the nearest light. When we came close to the lights we found that it was a life raft of twenty men capacity. This was a great relief to us. Now there was hope and assurance that we would survive. One by one, all twenty-nine of us boarded the life raft. Sub Lieutenant Ahluwalia, Lieutenant Commander Manu Sharma and I were among crew members who got on to this raft.

Once in the life raft we felt safe, warm and comfortable. The life raft kept on drifting with the wind and tide. At night we could not ascertain the direction in which we were drifting. The night seemed treacherous.

The wind grew very strong and cold. The temperature dropped still further till

it became very uncomfortable. There was much friction of the rubber joints of the raft. It made loud noises as if the life raft would break up. We were all scared and tried to distribute our weight evenly. We dropped the life raft curtain. A life raft is a special life-saving apparatus carried by all sea-going ships, so that the crew can save their lives during a disaster or when their ship is sunk. A life raft is completely kitted up for survivors for at least 10 to 15 days. During the day, we opened up a food container. We first opened the cans containing water. We all drank water, which was a big relief. Then we found chocolates and biscuits. Most of the survivors on the raft were ailing and could not eat anything except drink water, which was rationed to all of us. We then discovered rocket flares, a heliograph and fishing lines. There was also a solar still. This is provided to generate distilled water from sea water when the canned water gets exhausted.

At around 1000 hrs on 10 December 1971 we saw an aircraft on the horizon. We fired red rocket flares and tried our best to attract the attention of the pilot by focusing the heliograph and waving our shirts. We also generated ‘May Day’ messages by a signal generator on the raft. The aircraft went back. We used our portable transmitter to send off an SOS signal. We all were very depressed after the aircraft went back without acknowledging our presence. We now continued to wait in our life raft very patiently. Many who were sick continued to vomit continuously due to the rolling and pitching movement of the raft. At night more than 50 per cent of the survivors vomited and we had to clean it up ourselves. Despite that there was a stink of vomit all the time.

Then two more aircraft appeared on the horizon and started flying over us. Sub Lieutenant Ahluwalia and I fired red rocket flares, to attract the attention of the pilot once more. We again focused the heliograph on the aircraft and waved our hands and clothes. It appeared to us that the pilot had finally seen us. We now felt very happy and elated. The aircraft went back. Sure enough, we soon saw three masts of warships on the horizon. The ships were heading for us. I realized that we must be in very deep water; otherwise the warships would not have been able to approach us directly. Later on we came to know that we had drifted only 10 miles from the site of the sinking of the Khukri.

The ship that rescued us was INS Katchal, commanded by Captain Zadu. The ship slowly took the life raft along side and a cargo net was hung down the side of the ship. We slowly climbed up the ship one by one. Once on board, all heaved a great sigh of relief. Captain Zadu took the life raft on board. He then approached another life raft and a few more survivors were picked up. Two other ships picked up four other life rafts.

There were a total of six life rafts. At night only three were lit and the other life rafts were unlit and, therefore, no one could see them and board those rafts. Each life raft has sea-activated cells, which in contact with sea water get activated and the light on top of the canopy gets lit up automatically. But the sea activated cells of the other life rafts malfunctioned; hence they were unlit.

Among the survivors picked up by INS Katchal from the second life raft, one of the crew had died. His name was Thomas and he was from Kerala. He was on duty near the projectile room and he must have got injured by the torpedo directly. He died at night on board the life raft. A sea burial with full military honours was given to him and the Christian burial ritual was followed.

All the six life rafts were kept on the top of handling room on the quarterdeck of the Khukri. Three rafts on either side. Once the ship sank the hydrostatic release system worked and the three life rafts automatically floated and got inflated. The other theory is that, when the torpedo hit the Khukri the life rafts were thrown out of the ship and got inflated automatically.

All the survivors who were picked up remained on board during the search and destruction operation of the submarine that sank the Khukri. On 14 December 1971 we set course for Bombay and disembarked on 15 December

1971 at around 2030 hrs at Break Water berth. We went thereafter to INS Angre for our accommodation and I had my medical done there.

A Court of Inquiry was held. All the survivors were in great praise for Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla. Sub Lieutenant Ahluwalia, Lieutenant Commander Manu Sharma and I were awarded Nao Sena medals for gallantry. We went on special leave for a month. There were a total of sixtysix survivors, which included six officers.

Post Script: About two or three months before the sinking of the Khukri I had the same dream twice. I dreamt I was sailing on board the Khukri. The ocean was blue and the water was very transparent. My black metal trunk, which had all my belongings and was kept in the ‘cowshed’ where we lived, was falling into the blue ocean and sinking with great speed. I was trying to save it but all my efforts to recover it failed. I then woke up.

Even after waking up the dreams seemed so real to me that I would bend down to locate the trunk under the couch where it used to be kept, I felt relieved when I saw it. This black trunk was lost on 9 December 1971.

Chief Petty Officer KL Malhotra

I joined the Indian Navy in January 1965 and left in December 1974 after nineteen years of service. I joined the Khukri in June 1971. Before this I was with Captain MN Mulla in Naval Plans. Captain Mulla was Deputy Director Naval Plans, Naval Headquarters. I was looking after administration. When Captain Mulla was appointed as the Captain of INS Khukri in June 1971, he asked me if I would like to join him on the Khukri. I said ‘Yes’. Captain Mulla went by air and I followed by train and joined the ship at Cochin.

We sailed around the coast for about five months of training and touched Goa, Madras, Cochin and Bombay. Shortly before the war, the Khukri was grouped with INS Kirpan and INS Kuthar to form the 14th Squadron as part of the fleet that had some tasks, which were not known to us at that time. I understand that the Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Nanda visited Bombay on 1 December 1971 and directed the Western Fleet to leave Bombay immediately thereafter, that is, on 2 December. The fleet sailed for some unknown destination and while we were on our way, we learnt we were tasked to attack the Pakistani Navy at Karachi. While we were on our way, INS Kuthar developed some engine trouble and had to return to Bombay. The Khukri and the Kirpan had to escort her to Bombay. In Bombay we were told that a Pakistani submarine was operating in the area and the Khukri and the Kirpan were tasked to locate and destroy her.

In Bombay we were given three big rafts, in addition to the rafts we already had on board. They were really big and could accommodate about twenty to thirty men. We had no place to store them so we kept them on the top deck unsecured.

I am not sure of the date but I think it was 9 December 1971. I was in my cabin towards the fo’c’sle. The ship was on ‘action stations’. The few, including myself, who were not on duty were in their cabins listening to the All India News broadcast in Hindi around 8.45 p.m. Everyday at this time All India Radio used to broadcast the progress of the war and we were keen to know what was happening on the various fronts. On that day the newsreader had just started reading the news. It was at this moment I felt the ship shake. This was the first torpedo that struck the Khukri, probably midship near the engine room. I sensed that something was wrong and along with two others started running towards the ship’s galley, when the second torpedo struck the ship and, with the force of the impact I fell down near the galley and the Khukri started tilting rapidly towards the starboard side. I immediately got up and ran towards the quarterdeck. On the way there was a store and the Petty

Officer Store was on duty inside. I had in the confusion left my life jacket in my cabin but seeing the store I asked the Petty Officer for a life jacket which he gave me and I wore it. Then I continued to run towards the quarterdeck and I saw an open door. I went through this door, which opened out on to the quarterdeck. By this time the ship was tilting very badly towards the starboard side and was practically on its side. I was now close to the funnel of the ship. I climbed across the ladder of the funnel, which along with the ship was down on its side and from the funnel I jumped into the sea. It was good that I had the life jacket on because it helped me float in the sea. I swam away from the ship but the sea was full of furnace oil, which got into my eyes and throat and made my eyes burn and the furnace oil and salt water I had swallowed caused me to vomit. The Khukri meanwhile went down into the sea.

Luckily for us the big rafts which were not secured to the ship now floated away from the Khukri and some of the stronger members of the crew managed to get hold of them and started helping us to get on them. This was quite a difficult task because most of us were covered with oil and so were the rafts but after about twenty minutes about thirty of us managed to get on to a raft. I do not remember how many were on the other rafts. The water was very cold and moving with the current the rafts got separated from each other. Throughout the night we kept awake as we were hoping someone would come to rescue us.

Next day early in the morning an Indian Air Force aircraft flew over us. We could see the IAF insignia and the tricolour and we all started waving our handkerchiefs. He too could see us and we now knew that it was only a matter of time before we would be rescued. A few hours later the Kirpan and the Katchal came alongside and picked us up. This was around 10 a.m. On board we were given first aid and a change of uniforms because our uniforms were covered with oil. We were also given some tea and something to eat and made to rest on the top deck. We sailed that whole day and in the evening we refuelled. After refuelling we sailed towards Bombay since orders from Naval Headquarters instructed the ship’s captain that all the survivors were to

be brought to Bombay. However, after sailing for about an hour we were told to proceed to Karachi. After some more time we were once again told to go to Bombay.

After we entered Bombay harbour and berthed alongside the jetty, a lot of persons from the media and senior naval officers were on hand to receive us. Thereafter we were kept on INS Angre and media persons interviewed some of the survivors.

Mrs Rekha Khanna (Sharma) (W/o Manu Sharma)

It all happened a long time ago and yet when you talk about it, it feels as though it was just yesterday. Manu and I were married in April 1969 and the Khukri sank in December 1971. We had been married for just two and a half years. Our daughter Shivali was a year old when the war started. It was in fact on 3 December that the media informed the world that India and Pakistan were at war but I had no idea whatsoever as to whether the navy would take part in this war at all and what part Manu would play in it. Little did I realize at that time that my husband’s ship would play a critical part in this war at sea.

We were posted to Bombay in the summer of 1971 and Manu was often away on training and exercises and I was left alone with my daughter. My father was an officer in the Indian Air Force. Since Manu was away at sea for long periods so often, my father suggested that I stay with them for a while till things settled down. So I moved to Delhi with my daughter and Manu continued with his duties on the Khukri.

On the night of 3 December1971 we heard the news over the radio that

Pakistani aircraft had attacked our airfields and that war between Pakistan and India had started. There had been no news from Manu for sometime and I wondered where he was and what he was doing. Little did I realize that he was already on the high seas. We all used to gather round the radio to listen to the daily news broadcasts and a few days after the war started we heard that our naval ships had attacked Karachi and that some Pakistani ships had been destroyed. There was no news of any Indian casualties and I felt relieved that Manu was all right.

It was sometime about a week after the war started that I sensed something had happened. Apparently my father knew the Khukri had been sunk but he kept this news away from me and I had no inkling anything was amiss till one of Manu’s friends came over the day after the Khukri was sunk to ask whether there was any news about him. I was then told that the Khukri has been in action and that it had been hit by a torpedo. It was only two days after the event that I came to know the Khukri had sunk and there was no news of any survivors.

My mother considered Manu to be more of a son than a son-in-law and so there was a lot of concern about him. My father was on the telephone most of the time trying to find out whether there were any survivors and if Manu was amongst them. My own anxiety is difficult to describe and can only be understood by someone in a similar situation. I kept imagining Manu in all sorts of dangerous situations but somehow I could not accept that he was no more. Manu was a survivor and I felt convinced that whatever the predicament, Manu would be out there fighting for his life. However, despite this conviction, all sorts of thoughts kept flitting through my mind. Was Manu out there alone in the cold sea or were there others with him? How long could he and the others survive in those cold waters before their rescue? Who were the others out there with him? I prayed for his safety but lack of news about the survivors had cast a gloom over the house. Finally we got the news that there indeed were survivors and that Manu was one of them. It was a great relief.

But happiness that Manu was alive was tempered with the news that so many of the crew had gone down with the ship. There was Kundan Mall, a friend and dashing young officer, who was not among the survivors. Manu and he were close friends. Captain and Mrs Mulla, to us young navy wives, were all that a navy couple should be. Captain Mulla was so kind and considerate to all of us and so was Mrs Mulla. Mrs Mulla was also very beautiful and together they made such a good-looking pair. There were so many others whom we knew so well and to know that some of them were no more was devastating.

I wanted to go to Bombay to meet Manu but he told me not to come because he was extremely busy with operational debriefings, medical checkups and administrative matters. Manu also had the sad task of meeting with the families of those who had not returned. It must have been particularly hard on Manu to have to present himself to the bereaved families and to tell them their loved ones were no more. He would later tell me that he used to feel guilty to be alive when there was such a deep sense of loss in the families that he had to meet. I feel that the sinking of the Khukri did not have as deep an effect on Manu as much as dealing with the tragedy of so many families whose breadwinners were no more. He used to also say that not knowing about the fate of one’s loved one was sometimes as bad as knowing the truth. In the first case, there was some hope their loved one would return whereas in the second case there was a finality about his not returning and when hope dies, something vital dies within you.

For me it was all very confusing. On the one hand I was so relieved that Manu was alive and yet how could I say I was happy when faced with so much personal loss. Life in the navy is like life in any close community and a ship’s crew is like a close family. Lifelong friendships develop among the wives and children.

It was difficult to imagine that Captain Mulla would not be around to cheer us up and to encourage us. The manner of his going down with his ship was so heroic and yet we agonized at the waste of such a wonderful man. He was the ideal leader and he would have been so much more valuable to the navy and the nation alive rather than dead. To us women, it is difficult to reconcile with the tradition of the captain going down with his ship. It seems such a waste.

Equally tragic was the situation of the families who had lost their ‘man of the house’. For them the light of their lives had been switched off. In one brief moment their lives had been turned upside down and they had to come to terms with a lonely existence. Wives had become widows overnight and had to be mother and father to the children. I thought about the futility of war. I wondered whether the enemy sailors who launched the torpedoes exulted and cheered when they sank the Khukri. What they would feel if it was their families facing this terrible situation?

Manu was finally able to come to Delhi about a week later. Seeing him again was a great relief and yet this joy was incomplete. How could one be happy knowing that so many of our dear friends were no more? Manu was right; not knowing the fate of the Khukri was bad enough but knowing the truth was worse. So many lives lay shattered. Who would pick up the pieces and put those broken lives together again?

For me there was also another kind of loss because although Manu never realized it then nor perhaps does he realize it now, this event changed him. On the one hand he was able to dispassionately describe the sinking of the Khukri. Every one wanted to know what really happened and he would tell the story again and again as if it was a film replay. Perhaps it was his mind that decided to deal with the trauma of the sinking at that level. It was as if he was a person far removed from what really happened. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. It was difficult for me to understand.

Manu, however, would often say that it was all part of the game and that war and its effects were what all naval officers were trained for. That it was a matter of killing or being killed. That this was what war was all about, both sides faced similar situations and one had to do what one had to do and then get on with one’s life. What was important, he said, was that we needed to know why this happened, to take steps to ensure this never happened again and to be prepared for the next encounter.

As a wife and a woman, I could not reconcile with what Manu and the others were saying. I felt that although as a naval officer one is trained to overcome such situations through training, discipline and a sense of duty, there is an after-effect which is inevitable. When you see your ship going down, your captain going down with the ship, your friends dying all around you how can all this not affect you? Manu claimed that it didn’t but I don’t really know. I don’t believe that as a soldier or a sailor you cease to have emotions – that you become unfeeling and that you do not grieve. However, I do admit that I am neither a soldier nor a sailor and many of Manu’s friends agree with him but I, as a woman, find it difficult to believe what they say. Denial does not change what you must feel deep down inside.

However, as I said earlier, a change did come over Manu. Perhaps he did not realize it at that time and neither did we but looking back I feel that when it came to the families of those who had died, he didn’t want to talk. I think it was his experience with these families that touched him deep down and made him very sad. I think we, too, were not wise enough at that time to understand what was happening to him. We thought that whatever was troubling him would pass away, that time would heal the hurt. But it didn’t happen that way. I think he could not reconcile to something that had upset him and the sadness that overtook him. He became quieter over a period of time and he has remained like that ever since. He was the senior-most survivor and for the next six months he visited many of the families of those who had died and they were all over India. Mothers, fathers, wives and children all wanted to

know how their loved one had spent his last moments and Manu could not tell them because it had all happened within minutes. He, perhaps, had to tell them that he did not know. I think it was this part he found most difficult to deal with and that hurt him the most.

In retrospect, I think that Manu and others like him could deal with war, the fighting and death and destruction. What he probably was not trained for and what he found difficult to deal with was interacting with the families of those who had died. Manu continued with the navy for sometime but I gradually came to feel that he wanted a break from the past. He finally left the navy and we shifted to the US.

Anyway, going back to those days – about three months after the sinking of the Khukri we met some Pakistani officers at a dinner at somebody’s house. I think these were Bangladeshi officers who had escaped from Pakistan and one of them was on the submarine that sank the Khukri. When he realized that I was the wife of one of the survivors of the Khukri who was also present, there was a hush in the conversation for a while. Then one of them spoke up and said, ‘Life takes such strange turns. I cannot believe that I am sitting in the same room in conversation with an officer of the Indian Navy who just a short while ago I was seeking to kill.’ He then went on to describe his part of the story in the sinking of the Khukri. It was such a strange experience, meeting and listening to these officers who, not much earlier, belonged to the Pakistan navy. They seemed such nice people and not very different from us. Indians and Pakistanis look so much alike; we speak the same language and have so much in common. They did not seem to be the rabid, ferocious killers that I had imagined them to be. They seemed to be normal persons like you and me. Why then do our two countries go to war with each other again and again? It was a disturbing thought, which I could not put away. I could not help thinking about what is often said that it is the politicians who fail to prevent wars and it is left to the soldiers to fight and die for the cause and to accept the burdens of death and destruction.

All this is perhaps in hindsight. It has been more than thirty-four years since all this happened and I am looking back at these events after such a long time. Life has moved on but I can still feel the shock of it all. We lost so many of our friends in the army, navy and air force. We had friends in all the three services because Manu was from the navy and my father was from the air force and besides Manu was from the National Defence Academy where lifelong friendships develop amongst cadets of the three services. What troubled me most was the case of Lieutenant Akku Roy (Alize pilot from the Vikrant) who was declared missing but never confirmed and some said was seen in a Pakistani jail. He never came back. Another was my cousin-in-law’s brother who was in the army. What was sadder still was that after a while we soon lost contact with each other. It was as if we closed the door to a room that we were not comfortable to enter anymore. For me life continued as before but for the bereaved, life stood still. Is this then the fate of the families of the dead and disabled of every war?

We went recently to visit the Vikrant. It has become a naval museum now and is known as IMS Vikrant, that is, Indian Museum Ship Vikrant. It no longer has its old flag. The carrier looked lonely and forlorn. Its shine and polish was gone and it looked like a ghost of its former self. The silence and the lack of activity of sailors swarming all over the place probably contributed to the forlorn look. We were walking along the decks when all of a sudden we came across the room dedicated to INS Khukri. To me it came as a shock to be suddenly confronted with the details of the tragic events that took hold of our lives so long ago. The officer escorting us briefed us on the incident embedded deep within me. I had closed the door on these events, subconsciously perhaps, but now it was suddenly being opened in front of me. I could vaguely hear the voice of the officer briefing the party and the voices of the other people with us, but my thoughts were far away in a different world – a nostalgic grey world of shadows – of Captain Mulla and his beautiful wife, of Lieutenant Kundan Mall and all the others who formed part of the small intimate family of the Khukri. Where were they now and how were they, the families of those who did not come back from the Khukri or some other battlefield? Did anyone really care for those who gave up their lives for the nation or were they consigned to the dustbin of history? I sat

down on a bench and because I had kept quiet, the others, who knew of my involvement with the incident, left me alone with my thoughts and moved on to the next exhibit. I remained there alone, feeling my way into the past, looking at a picture of the Khukri when it was in its prime, at a picture of some of the survivors, at the uniform of Lieutenant Sunil Singh which he wore on that fateful night. I looked back at what I imagined to be the image of a dying ship and the faces of a gallant crew obliterated in a moment by a man very much like the men who were looking back at me from the photograph and who later sat in one of our homes ruminating on what he had done and at the tragedy of war. I wondered why men do such terrible things to each other. But there are no easy answers.

As I sat there quietly, reading the account of what happened that fateful night, the picture of the destruction of the Khukri became increasingly clear. Perhaps the many stories I had heard stoked my imagination. The description of the ship breaking up now came before my mind’s eye with unnerving clarity and I could see the sailors on deck jumping into the sea and I was also able to visualize the grim fate of those trapped below. For them there was no escape. And it was then that the reason why Captain Mulla went down with his ship hit me with startling clarity. How could this man, who breathed gallantry with every breath, save himself when most of his crew were trapped down below? Knowing the person that he was and how much he cared for those he led, I don’t think he could have lived with himself, knowing that his sailors were consigned to a watery grave. I am sure now, that it was this consideration that made him go down with his ship. Who knows what he was thinking of – but this is what it probably was.

The Armed Forces is an institution where wives play an important part in motivating their men to do their duty. They do this by taking care of the children and the home and assuring their men-folk that they would be able to take care of themselves. But the anguish they go through during war is something others would not be able to understand or appreciate because they have not experienced this themselves. And ultimately when their men do not return, it is they who have to bear the final burden and when the glare of

publicity dies down, they stand alone.

Mrs Sudha Mulla (W/o Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla, MVC)

I was married to Mahendra Mulla when I was just seventeen years old. We were family friends and in and out of each other’s homes. I never dreamt that we would one day be married. Our families are both from Allahabad, although we belong to Kashmir. Mahendra belongs to a family of distinguished lawyers.

Mahendra was thirteen years older than me and a very kind and considerate husband. He was a devoted family man. He believed that religion was a very personal thing. He was not what one would call a religious man but he had read the Bible and the Koran and the Hindu scriptures. He never made a show of it but he had a firm belief in God and on some rare occasions I used to be surprised to find him deep in meditation, totally oblivious of his surroundings. He was a disciple of Swami Vivekanand and believed that religion was the way you lived and how you treated others. He had very strong beliefs, values and principles and he lived by them irrespective of the cost.

The sailors and his subordinates, however, adored him because he was very fair and just. He was a strict disciplinarian but he was also kind and generous to them particularly when they needed help.

He was very straightforward and truthful. To him the world was either black or white. He disliked having to compromise and in any case he never, ever compromised on values. This evoked strong responses in people. Some liked him and some did not but I believe he was respected by all – seniors and

juniors alike. Admirals Kuruvilla and Gandhi were very fond of him and it was Admiral Kuruvilla who got him to command INS Khukri and also placed him in command of the F-14 Squadron.

He had an amazing power of concentration and if he was absorbed in something he gave his total attention to it. You could throw a bomb close to him and he would not be disturbed. He also had the ability to sleep at will if he felt that sleep was necessary.

He believed strongly in self-control and his attitude to pain was unbelievable. I once accompanied him to a dentist when a troublesome tooth had to be removed. The dentist was a young and inexperienced naval dental officer. My husband refused the painkilling injection. The dental officer struggled a great deal to remove the tooth and discovered to his horror, after he had removed it, that he had removed the wrong tooth. I was furious but Mahendra did not get angry and told the dentist to go ahead and get on with the job of removing the bad tooth, this too without a painkiller. So two teeth were removed without any painkillers and he bore the pain without flinching. The person most affected by this whole episode was the dentist. Mahendra calmly walked out and went to work as if nothing had happened.

He was also very equal with servants. He disliked anyone mistreating them. He said that as long as they served us they were to be treated with kindness. Scolding them if they did not work well, to him, was unacceptable. He said, ‘If you are unhappy with their work, change them but as long as they are under our roof they are to be treated with the respect due to them – shouting at them will not help.’

In some ways, he was a mystery even to me. For example, he did not believe in giving or receiving gifts. If we were invited to a birthday party we went without gifts. He believed that if we were invited to celebrate an event we

were called for ourselves and not for the presents we would bring. He felt that if giving a present was so important then attending the celebration was meaningless and if people attached so much importance to presents then one might as well send the present and not attend the party. Also, he felt that giving a person a present imposed a burden on the recipient who would feel obliged to return the present when we invited them over. It was similarly understood and accepted by all our friends that we did not accept gifts. He believed that friendship was not tied down to the giving and receiving of gifts.

It is not that he did not enjoy life. He enjoyed good food, music and dancing and was the life of any party. He sang well and believed that the good things of life were to be enjoyed but that we should do so with a detached mind because nothing in life was permanent and we should try to be comfortable and happy and dignified in all circumstances. He had a similar attitude to the material things of life. He used to say, ‘Sab para rahega jab ladh chalega banjara (What is the point of the material world, when you have to leave everything behind?).’

And that is exactly what happened. When he left this world all that he had was what was left in his provident fund and that too, was not much because he only contributed the compulsory minimum amount. There was hardly anything left in his bank account and his life was not insured. He used to say ‘We must live well’ and so we did, as long as he was alive. We entertained quite a bit as is required in service life. After the Khukri sank, I learnt that he was the only officer whose life was not insured.

Every month he would give me his pay and take a little back to pay his mess bill and to buy his cigarettes. He believed in living well without being ostentatious. The children’s education and good food were our main priorities and we lived well and entertained well and the children went to the best schools.

He was also very generous and gave freely to sailors who were in need. It is only after he passed away that I came to know from the sailors themselves that he had given them money in their hour of need.

He was a very intellectual person and had read all the great classics, both prose and poetry, in English and Hindi. He was also well versed in Persian. I complained sometimes at our frequent postings because I was losing friends as fast as I was making them he used to say, ‘Make books your friends. They will always be with you wherever you go.’

He was an excellent sportsman. When he was doing the course at the Defence Services Staff College at Wellington, he came home one afternoon and told me that he was going to take part in a tennis tournament. I said to him, ‘But I have never seen you play tennis in the last ten years!’ He said, ‘Never mind, I intend to win and I will bring back a hamper.’ And he did. He was not only capable and intelligent but he also had a lot of determination and will power and I believe that my elder daughter has inherited these qualities from him.

He was emotionally attached to people and institutions he was close to. He loved being a sailor. Many of his friends left the navy to join the merchant navy where the salary and perks were much better and would urge him to also leave and he would tell them, ‘I will never leave the navy for anything in the world.’ And when I broached the subject with him one day he said, ‘Are you uncomfortable with the way we live? Tell me what it is that you need which I am not able to give you.’ I never raised the subject again.

He was fond of movies, particularly of movies that inspired him. He saw the movie Patton five times and we also saw the Sinking of the Bismarck a number of times and in due course the children could sing the song Sink the

Bismarck at the drop of a hat.

The only thing he was really fond of, close to being an obsession, was ‘bridge’. He played bridge with a passion because I think it was one of the few games that stimulated his intellect. However, when we were posted to the UK he gave up playing bridge completely. He felt that with long hours at work if he indulged in bridge, the family would be totally neglected. But he never regretted it. So instead, he played Scrabble at home with me and the children. The children learnt much from these sessions – not only the game but also the values that he managed to introduce while playing.

As I had mentioned earlier, Captain Mulla came from a long line of distinguished lawyers and judges. His grandfather was a famous criminal lawyer. His father Justice Mulla was a judge at the Allahabad High Court. His elder brother-in-law, SN Mulla was a leading criminal lawyer in Uttar Pradesh, a barrister from London and an MP in the Rajya Sabha. His mother was Raja Narendra Nath’s daughter. His uncle was Anand Narayan Mulla who was famous not only as a judge advocate but also as a poet. So law ran in his blood and he was known as ‘Captain Mulla – the Flying Defence’ because any sailor in trouble wanted him to defend him, which he would do only after checking out the case and the antecedents of the sailor involved. However, if he was convinced of the issue, he would take up the case and would invariably win.

He was very happy to have daughters and said so repeatedly, particularly because in Indian families it is so important to have sons and he probably wanted me to be as happy with our daughters as he was. He was very kind to the children and yet in some ways he was very strict with them even though they were so young. He was particularly concerned about their moral values, the importance of integrity, of being truthful and honest, of intellectual pursuits, of reading and development of one’s character and being comfortable with oneself. He passed on to them the need for self-control, of

being able to enjoy the good things of life and yet to be as happy and content without them. He introduced the girls, young as they were, to literature and poetry and our elder daughter Ameeta absorbed all that he said and is today well-versed in the classics, both European and Indian.

At times I thought he was overtly tough with them. His attitude to the undesirability of giving gifts when invited for parties applied also to the children when they were invited to birthday parties and this became embarrassing for them and for me. I’m afraid I used to disregard this principle when the children went to birthday parties I would give them presents to give to their friends without telling him.

I wanted to study and get a degree but I was only seventeen when I married and soon our children were born, so there was no opportunity to study further. However, the best available education was a priority for our daughters. I myself studied at a convent and understood the value of character building and the need to make the children independent so we resolved that our girls should go to a good convent. A naval commander’s salary, however, only permitted one child, our elder daughter Ameeta, to be sent to Jesus & Mary Convent (Chelsea), a boarding school at Shimla. However, we felt our younger daughter also needed to join her sister but we could not afford it. So we sat down together and worked out how much it would cost. The result of our study indicated that our income needed to be supplemented.

My husband did not like the idea of my taking up a job so I decided to publish my own magazine Bangles & Beads. Surprisingly, it did well and one and half years before the war both our girls were at Jesus & Mary, Shimla, and I understood the meaning of what Mahendra always used to say, ‘Mushkil hai lekin mumkin hai (Difficult but possible).’

It is now more than thirty-five years since all this happened and I feel

sometimes that my life with Mahendra was part of another life because it was so wonderful when he was alive and so different when he died. Sometimes I think that my life with him was not part of this life at all but part of my past life.

Only after the war did I realize how different Mahendra was from other men. As mentioned earlier, I was very young when I married him and I had very little exposure to others. I knew only him and his close friends. It was only after the war when he was not around that I realized how difficult life could be without him. It was now, more than ever before, that I realized how generous, brave and wonderful was the man that I had lost.

I now had to bring up our two daughters on my own. They were both still at school at Shimla when I received news of the sinking of the Khukri. Ameeta was thirteen years old and Anjali ten years. I now had to bring them up on a widow’s pension, which was around Rs 700 including the allowance given for his Mahavir Chakra. I could not afford to keep the girls as boarders at Jesus & Mary but the nuns were kind. They offered me a job and they said that if I taught at the convent the children would be their responsibility, so I had to work. It was providence perhaps that things worked out this way. I rented a small house outside the school and it used to take us forty-five minutes to walk to the school. I taught there till the girls finished school and college. My salary at the convent was about Rs 400 and my pension by that time had increased to about Rs 800.

And then the children finished studying and got married. Ameeta got married in 1976 before she had got her degree but she continued studying after marriage and Anjali got married in 1983.

Ameeta Mulla Wattal

(D/o Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla)

I have often wondered what made my father decide to go down with his ship after it was torpedoed during the 1971 Indo-Pak war. Did he want his name to be enshrined in history books as a man of valour? Did he do it because it was part of an old archaic naval tradition, or did he accompany his ship to the womb of the sea because he felt it was the right thing to do?

My sister and I had come home from school for the winter holidays just before the war. Earlier, we children used to play war games with tin sailors and paper boats which if broken could always be put together again. The antiaircraft guns that opened up on the night of 5 December at Bombay were, for us, an enchanting display of bright fireworks, which we looked at with glee from the balconies of Navy Nagar. To us, war, destruction and death were just fast-moving images of World War II movies seen in the security of the United Services Club from where one could easily escape by walking out of the darkened auditorium. It was this innocence that was torn apart on the night of 9 December 1971, for the torpedo that struck INS Khukri was no toy and the ship though not made of paper could never be put together again. Unlike the reel-life adventures shown at the club auditorium, this real-life battle had no exits.

The news of the sinking of the Khukri was brought home to my mother along with weak assurances that the captain of the ship had also been rescued. However, to this day, I recall that my mother felt a hopeless despair because she knew that her husband was not the type of man who would put his own safety before the safety of his men.

As the list of survivors started arriving, news was also received that the captain was last seen helping men out of the sinking ship with a silent and calm determination, which in turn transferred to his men. When the last

lifeboat pulled away from the doomed ship that was rapidly sinking to its watery grave, they saw their captain on the bridge – a sentinel to his battleship for eternity.

More than three decades have rolled by and we have all been involved in the journey of growing up – our household was now one of women – my mother, my younger sister and I.

I remember my sister, Anju’s reaction to the news of the sinking of the Khukri. She was merely a child of eleven. She took the news with a silent calm, her eyes not leaving my mother’s face. Anju had always had that inner strength which she has inherited from my father. She would get up every new day and lay out papa’s uniform and attach his medals and epaulettes with such intense care that I felt her faith alone would bring our father back. She would answer every doorbell and telephone with the firm conviction that it would be our father at the door or at the other end of the line.

Our house seemed to be a multitude of humanity and the days rolled by and mingled one into another. My mother became deeply involved with the widows of the crew of the Khukri, seeing to their emotional and physical needs. She put away her own tragedy and worked with a grim determination to bring solace and comfort to the families of those who had lost their men of the house. Their needs seem to obsess her for she felt that she had taken the place of their captain.

When all the tumult and the crowds faded away, we were left, just the three of us – one brave woman and two scared children. I remember asking my mother as to what she would do and where we would go and she replied, ‘The world is big and has room for everyone and the three of us are strong enough to find our own place in the sun.’ That day I knew that there was nothing that the three of us couldn’t do.

How do I remember a parent who died thirty-five years ago but who continues to deeply influence my every living moment? I was six years old when I became conscious that the tall handsome man with light brown eyes was my father.

Father was a Kashmiri Pandit and belonged to one of the most illustrious families of the state of Uttar Pradesh. He could count among his kith and kin chief justices, poets, constitution framers, criminal lawyers and even a dignified scoundrel or two but they were all brilliant people, uniformly addicted to the romance of living. Veeru (as he was affectionately called) was a man of deep faith. He accepted religion as a part of his being but he never let it prejudice him. He believed that an understanding of different faiths was important because essentially all of them preached the innate goodness of mankind.

I remember once being influenced by a religious pamphlet titled ‘Soldiers of God’, in which there was a line that read, ‘make a sacrifice and save a sinner’. I righteously went about putting this into practice. One day my father noticed me refusing something he knew I was particularly fond of, with an expression of pained tragedy. He asked me why and I replied, ‘Sacrificing.’ He smiled and said, ‘Never call your best action a sacrifice. If one fights for a cause, it is because one is prepared to live without certain things.’ I never understood him then but I do now, that is, that the cause has to be such that one should not count the cost.

Our father was a voracious reader and encouraged us to read as well. When he returned from a trip, I never expected a doll or a bauble. It always had to be a book.

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam was the first book that I received from him at the age of eight, inscribed with the words, ‘To my dear daughter. To thine own self be true and the rest follows as the night the day, then thou can’t be false to any man.’ Six months before his death, on my fourteenth birthday he wrote to me at school, ‘These are the formative years of your life. Your sole aim should be to imbibe knowledge, let not your mind wander … the time for life, love and laughter will come later. For those who fritter away this precious time, the good things of life will never seem to arrive. Their future is blighted. This is the inexorable law of Karma.’ He also remarked that the business of war, if left to the uninformed and unintelligent, could only result in disaster, and so it was for every profession. I wonder now whether he had a premonition of his end when he made those remarks to me.

Papa was not always serious; he loved a good laugh. Mother used to say that you can always vouch for the sincerity of a man who laughs openly and without inhibition. However, with me his humour was inevitably tempered with an injunction. Complaining about the severity of life at the Convent of Jesus and Mary, I wrote to him that the food was not even fit for worms. ‘My dear worm,’ he replied, ‘I am glad to learn that the food is fit for you. I am also happy to be informed that there are not frequent outings on the Mall, where misguided young ladies promenade in unbecoming apparel. I am delighted that you are kept “far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife”. I think it is excellent training.’ Because of Papa, whenever I was home in Navy Nagar I never saw the boys. They were terrified of him and vanished whenever his silver blue Renault appeared. I guess I could not have been very popular among the young crowd, but I did not mind. I wanted to spend every waking hour of my holidays with my father, talking to him, going for long walks through the countryside or trying to beat him at Scrabble. Whenever I challenged him on a particular word, not only would he show it to me in the dictionary, but he would also give me its etymology. He once explained that the reason why English was a living and progressive language was because it borrowed freely from all languages without fear of losing its own identity, a principle which could be sensibly applied to life as well.

My father had a histrionic talent, too, shared by many members of the family but he delighted in playing the villain. At the Defence Services Staff College he played the role of Henry Touchard in We Are No Angels. He apparently was very successful in his portrayal and he began to be recognized by the educated gentry of the Nilgiris. He said that to act well, it was more important to get inside the character’s mind rather than to be concerned about style and nuances of voice.

Most children have a lifetime with their parents, I had only fourteen years. Yet Papa taught me all the games that I enjoy playing, all the songs that I still love to sing and all the stories that I relate to my son. I think he was born two hundred years too late. His thoughts were medieval and his compulsions dated to a period in Indian history when parents were the sole arbiters of a child’s future. Though well read, well travelled and well informed he still fervently believed in the religious tenets of faith, duty and accountability, which have largely taken a backseat in the present-day world. He began treating me as an adult very early in life. When other children read comics and Enid Blyton, I was introduced to Chaucer and Wordsworth. He also made it a point never to neglect our religious upbringing. ‘Hinduism is a way of life,’ he used to say. ‘It is the repository of the wisdom and culture of this subcontinent for thousands of years. Never forget this and never belittle your priceless heritage.’ Today, when I witness the crimes being committed all over the world in the name of religion, I realize that it is faith alone that preserves the dignity of mankind.

Our move from the busy metropolis of Bombay to the sleepy hill town of Shimla took place in 1972. My sister and I had been studying at Jesus & Mary, Shimla, from March 1971. In fact we had come down to Bombay for our winter vacation when the war broke out. It was painful going back to school, for it seemed that our vacation had synchronized with seeing our father alive for the last time.

The journey from Bombay to Shimla was not the longest we had taken in our lives, but it seemed an enormous distance in terms of moving from one life pattern to another and the trauma stayed with us for a long time. In Shimla the healing process started for bruised and battered spirits. I remember the miniscule two-room flat that my mother had rented and how she joked that we were lucky, for who had a parlour, a bed-sitter and a kitchen all rolled into one? Thereafter we grew up in that flat. It had in it all our dreams and illusions and it now houses all the memories of our adolescence. It also had in it my father’s books on religion, poetry and humour. I feel that PG Woodhouse – coupled with the song our father had taught us We are going to sink the Bismarck and the world depends on us – ironically enough to see us through a lot of grey patches.

I remember the winters in Shimla used to be terribly severe. Everyone would leave for the plains and a blanket of snow would cover everything. Water was a problem as the pipes would freeze and burst. My sister or mom would fill the aluminium bukhari with coal and we would crack walnuts and drink innumerable cups of tea and generally lead a mole’s existence. My sister, however, was one of those tireless workers who seemed to be always around giving us emotional strength. My father’s death had affected her deeply. I often felt that she realized our mother had become the ‘man’ of the family so she took on the mantle of a mother. It was ironic how her doll’s house existence before the war took on a real-life dimension afterwards. In many ways it was Anju who made our cold, rented house a home. Often at night when it was still and we lay wrapped in our thoughts she would silently come close to my mother and stroke her face to see if there were any tears and then she would go back to bed. I wonder now whether Anju’s eyes were ever moist when she went back to sleep.

The forest hill road was a distance of five kilometers of winding road that linked our flat to the school and college. My mother, sister and I used to traverse that road twice a day. Those walks are etched in my mind. They were difficult days for my mother for she was trying to come to terms with her existence and I with mine and often my intensities would catch fire and burn.

That road and that house have been silent spectators to many a storm that passed over our lives.

Over thirty-five years have passed. We have long since moved out of that flat on the hill and moved to broader horizons, newer lives with different people towards being wives, mothers, teachers, executives, writers but always striving to be women of strength. My entire life has been a testimony to a man who died for his country and I believe that I have to live for it. The irony, however, is in never being able to come up to his expectations because of the exemplary way in which he lived and died.

On 9 December 1971, when his ship was struck by a torpedo and started to sink he spared no effort in getting as many sailors and officers to the safety of the lifeboats and the sea. And when he had done his duty he took the decision to go down with his ship. I suppose he saw himself as the master of a ship hundreds of years ago, nurtured by the traditions of the sea that required him to stay with his vessel. Not because it was the right thing to do, nor because it was expected of him but because knowing him as I did, it was the only thing to do. He was the first captain of independent India’s navy to go down with his ship and hopefully the last. One such man is enough to bring honour to an entire nation for a lifetime.

I imagine him now striding purposefully through the vast void of space and his words reach out to me. ‘Let not your dreams be transformed into nightmares – remember the honour of the Mullas.’

The Pakistan Navy on the sinking of INS Khukri

The Pakistan Navy has three versions of how the Khukri was sunk. The first

one is from The Story of the Pakistan Navy, which describes the sinking of INS Khukri as seen by the crew of PNS Hangor. We know what transpired on 2 and 3 December as reported by both sides so we shall pick up the thread of events as they occurred after 3 December. The Story of the Pakistan Navy states:

In an effort to locate the evasive enemy, Hangor extended her patrol northwards to investigate some radio transmissions that she had intercepted on her sensors. In the early hours of 9 December, when she was off the Kathiawar coast, two contacts were picked up on her passive sonar on a northeasterly bearing. They were easily identified as warships by their sonar transmissions; radar indicated a range of 6 to 8 miles. A pursuit of the enemy began.

When the first attempt to intercept the ships failed, the Hangor began snorkelling to gain speed. The Hangor, however, failed to attract the attention of the ships and contact was lost as the range increased. By the evening of 9 December she was able to make out the pattern of their movement by tracking them with the aid of her sensors. The ships were carrying out a rectangular anti-submarine search.

The second account is from the Pakistan Naval Historical Review published eight years later in March 1979. This version, written by a French officer, Commander Courau, who was nowhere on the scene, has a number of inaccuracies; however, the number and manner of torpedoes fired needs to be considered. According to this version the first torpedo was fired at the Kirpan. The torpedo passed under her keel but did not explode. There was no time to criticize this failure because the Khukri now passed in her turn at a range of 5,000 m. There was just enough time to set the range and at 2017 (PST) a second torpedo was fired, this time at the Khukri. A loud explosion was heard and it was realized that the torpedo had hit its target. The Kirpan returned to pick up survivors and her course brought her once more in line

with the submarine which promptly fired a third torpedo but the frigate was prepared and left at high speed. He claims that after 8 or 10 minutes a clear explosion was heard followed by the stopping of the Kirpan’s machinery. The Hangor believed that she had also hit the Kirpan and decided to head for deep water. The article further goes on to say that the Kirpan had a badly damaged stern and was unable to steam and had to be towed to Bombay.

We are, however, aware that the latter part of the account referring to the damage inflicted on the Kirpan in the form of a badly damaged stern is pure wishful thinking on the part of the Pakistanis and an exaggerated/fabricated claim. We know that the Kirpan came back the next morning along with the Katchal and picked up the survivors.

It is surprising that the French and the Pakistanis could get their facts wrong even eight years after the incident. The Public Relations Directorate of Pakistan Naval Headquarters published one more version in 1997, twenty-six years after the event. The title of the article is ‘Sentinels of the Sea’. Rear Admiral RA Qadri who was the Electrical Officer of the Hangor during the 1971 war is the author of this article.

Rear Admiral Qadri says that the Hangor obtained a perfect (fire control) solution, and commenced the attack at 1957 hrs (PST) by firing one homing torpedo ‘down the hatch’ at the Kirpan and that this torpedo failed to explode. He says that until the time the torpedo was fired neither of the two frigates had any inkling of being under attack. However as soon as the torpedo passed under the Kirpan, she realized that she was under attack and she turned quickly and moved away. It was at this time that the Khukri realized that she was also under attack. Knowing from what direction the torpedo was fired she increased her speed and came straight for the Hangor.

According to Qadri, as the Khukri came in for the attack, the Hangor kept its

cool and calmly shifted target to the Khukri, obtained a quick solution and fired the second torpedo at her. This was meant to spoil the attack by the Khukri. The torpedo locked-on to the Khukri went under its keel and exploded, breaking the keel of the Khukri which sank in a matter of two minutes, with all hands on board. There were no survivors.

While some of the aspects are factually correct there appears to be an attempt once again to exaggerate, magnify and dramatize the manner in which the Hangor conducted itself. The ‘ overkill’ by the author reduces the credibility of the reportage. The strange part is that even twenty-eight years after the incident the author of this article makes statements such as ‘there were no survivors’ whereas he could easily have ascertained from a large number of newspapers, magazines and published sources that six officers and sixty-one sailors survived. We also know from the Pakistani version itself that the Khukri was oblivious of the presence of the Hangor right till the very end and, therefore, the question of the Khukri charging the Hangor did not arise. Also, if the Hangor fired at a charging at antisubmarine frigate she would be firing her torpedo at a very difficult ‘head-on’ profile where the Khukri would be presenting the smallest target whereas the other two versions do not bring out that the torpedo was fired at the Khukri when she was in a ‘headon’ profile.

It appears, therefore, from the Pakistani versions, that the Kirpan and the Khukri were totally oblivious of the presence of the Hangor, that the Hangor due to the superior technological quality of her sonars knew much in advance the approach of the two frigates and had nothing to fear because she knew the sonars of the two frigates had very limited range, that she had enough time to get into a position from which she could comfortably destroy the two frigates, that she was able to ascertain the two frigates were carrying out the rectangular pattern of search, a drill well known to the Pakistan Navy and that she was able to predict with total accuracy as to where the two frigates would be at a particular time, that a total of three torpedoes were fired – two at the Kirpan and one at the Khukri, that the two torpedoes fired at the Kirpan failed to hit their target and that the torpedo fired at the Khukri struck it either

beneath the keel or in the vicinity of the magazine close to the keel.

The Indian Navy and the sinking of INS Khukri

There were two main reasons that prompted Headquarters, Western Naval Command to dispatch the depleted F-14 Squadron consisting of just the Khukri and the Kirpan to deal with the submarine detected 30 nautical miles away from Diu. These were:

◆ The submarine posed a threat to the missile boats and their escorts assembling at Diu for the subsequent attacks on Karachi, and

◆ The threat posed by an enemy submarine in Indian territorial waters was not acceptable and could not be ignored. The submarine had to be destroyed.

What is inexplicable, however, is the inability of Headquarters Western Naval Command to allocate available resources to join the hunt and to make the encounter of the Khukri with the Hangor more equal. According to Transition to Triumph, the following resources could have been made available to Captain Mulla:

◆ The Seaking helicopters that were placed under command of Headquarters Western Naval Command,

◆ Alize anti-submarine aircraft, and

◆ Superconstellation maritime reconnaissance aircraft.

An excerpt from Transition to Triumph:

In his comparative assessment of Naval Forces FOC-in-C West had accepted that the Pakistan Navy’s latest Daphne class submarines were far superior to not only our submarines but also our surface ships. Accordingly all naval ships coming to or departing from Bombay hugged the shallow waters of the coast north and south of Bombay and altered landwards/seawards at random so that enemy submarines could never predict where to wait for targets.

Immediately after Pakistan attacked on 3 December, systematic attempts were commenced to interfere with the Pakistan Navy’s shore-to-submarine broadcast. This yielded a series of DF positions of Pakistani submarines transmitting messages to Karachi. Progressively these DF positions helped to confirm that one submarine was moving northwards from off Bombay towards Diu. Since Diu was the assembly area for ships to be deployed for missile attacks on Karachi, this submarine threat started causing concern. However, all the antisubmarine frigates were away with the Western Fleet and no ships were immediately available to deal with this submarine.

FOC-in-C West decided to deploy the 14 FS along with the Navy’s latest Seaking anti-submarine helicopters operating from Bombay to eliminate the submarine threat off Diu. The Seaking helicopters were to operate in the southern sector of the search area closer to Bombay and thereby have longer time on task. The frigates were to operate in the northern sector of the search area, closer to Diu head.

The Hunter-Killer Operation

Admiral Kohli in his book We Dared says much of what has been said above; however, the excerpt that follows is of significance:

This submarine was a potential threat to our shipping and it was decided by the Western Naval Command to eliminate this threat. The 14th antisubmarine squadron comprising the Khukri (F14), Kirpan and Kuthar was the only force available for the task together with some Seakings.

Urgent operational orders for a hunt were prepared in consultation with Captain MN Mulla, senior officer of the squadron, requiring the squadron to sail on 8 December for the last known position of the submarine. Kuthar’s problems were too serious to permit early readiness of the ship for sea. After considering the gravity of the situation and in consultation with F-14 who accepted decreased A/S capability of the two ships, the Khukri and the Kirpan sailed for the hunt.

The crux of the issue, however, is what Admiral Hiranandani says in the Preface to Transition to Triumph. He says:

In this context, the tragic loss of the Khukri will remain a vexed issue. If at all a two ship Search and Attack Unit (SAU) had to be sailed to take on a submarine whose capabilities were known to be superior to those of the ships of the SAU, then the SAU should have been closely supported by substantial anti-submarine air effort like Seaking anti-submarine helicopters, Alize antisubmarine aircraft, and Super Constellation reconnaissance aircraft, all of which were readily available. This was not done. On the other hand, had the Khukri been following well established torpedo counter-measure procedures

like high speed zigzag courses, superimposed by random weaves, which ships of an SAU are enjoined to follow, she would never have been such an easy target. The captain of the Khukri took the calculated risk of overcoming the limitations of his ship’s sonar by doing slow speed on a steady course, hoping that the experimental sonar modification developed by the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre, Bombay, would help to increase his sonar’s detection range.

He finally asks: was this personal initiative or institutional error? He also says it is for the reader to judge.

Since he has given the reader this privilege, and having had the advantage of listening to the survivors and retired naval officers who took part in the 1971 war, I would like to take this opportunity not to judge but to comment.

Firstly, as rightly brought out by Admiral Hiranandani, the decision to despatch the depleted force of two ancient antisubmarine frigates which had outlived their life to do battle with the most sophisticated conventional submarine of that time is exceptional, particularly when, as Admiral Hiranandani says, adequate forces were available but not used.

Secondly, taking the concurrence of the captain of the F-14 Squadron to carry out this task with depleted resources is no excuse for not making the best resources available. In fact it is grossly unfair to make a claim that the matter was discussed with Captain Mulla and he accepted the task with depleted resources. This was a war situation and Captain Mulla was in no position to say ‘No’.

Thirdly, even though two Seaking helicopters were made available for

sometime, why were they not placed under command of the officer conducting the operation? Standard operational procedures of the armed forces lay down that all forces allocated in support of an operation must be placed under command of the officer conducting that operation. Ultimately, these two helicopters departed from the battle without being replaced and the officer conducting the battle was not even informed that they were not coming back.

Fourthly, having placed F-14 in this unequal situation, to imply that Captain Mulla may not have followed established procedures is grossly unfair. As it is, he was hampered with a direction from Headquarters Western Naval Command that he should use the experimental device to enhance the range of the sonar, in itself an unprecedented decision considering this was a war situation and experiments are carried out before war, not during war. This decision slowed down his speed from 14 to 12 knots. Commander Manu Sharma states categorically that zigzagging was being done. Would zigzagging also not slow down the speed of a ship by at least another knot? There is no clear agreement on this but most officers do admit that it would slow down the Khukri still further.

Fifthly, why did Western Naval Command direct Captain Mulla to follow the rectangular pattern of search?

So it is now left to the reader to decide whether this was an institutional failure or a personal failure. I do agree that it is easy to be wise after the event but one cannot get away from the fact that there were a number of faulty decisions that led to the destruction of the Khukri.

I am aware that the navy instituted an inquiry into all these issues and corrective measures must have been taken. It would be presumptuous on my part to say that the above analysis gives the right perspective. It is, however, a

view that needs to be considered.

It is pertinent to mention that the same Khukri with its Type 170 sonar and mortars had definitely come out as the winner against the same Hangor on 4 December 1971 when it was on its way to Bombay harbour. At that time she was not hampered with the experimental sonar that restricted her speed and manoeuvrability. Was it, therefore, the ‘untested’ trial sonar that prevented the Khukri from being able to operate with speed and function effectively? And how much of the blame lies on the nonavailability of air resources in general and the absence of the Seakings in particular at the most critical juncture of this battle?

Khukri (Capt. M.N. Mulla, MVC)

Endnotes

1.

Transition to Triumph, p.7 and interview of Admiral Auditto, Ch. 6

2.

Bubbles of Water, p.296.

3.

Transition to Triumph, p.204.

4.

Bubbles of Water, p.330, 331.

5.

David Miller, The Commanding Officer. See Bibliography.

6. Lieutenant Commander Paul Raj is today an eminent professor and scientist teaching at Stanford University, USA. He also worked on a sonar project at the IIT Delhi and did some pioneering work on sonars in India. When contacted, he said: ‘The final successful modification kit for this sonar was developed by my team in IIT Delhi. I never worked at BARC.’ He adds, ‘All sonars have false alarm problems. I do not know all details of why this kit was embarked on an operational mission. I was surprised when I learnt about it.’ After the sinking of INS Khukri, Lieutenant Commander Paul Raj’s reputation got him to do a project on improving these sonars which he did very successfully by 1973 working in the laboratory at the IIT Delhi. He followed it up with an even more sucessful project on large surface ship sonar that entered fleet service in 1983. This sonar, APSOH is now recognized as a landmark military electronics achievement in India making Paul India’s

pioneer in military sonars.

four

Across the Waves

The Pakistan Navy’s Survivors’ Stories

‘ For they sow the wind and they shall reap the whirlwind. – Hosea (8, 7)

’ ‘Across the Waves’ is an attempt to put together bits and pieces of information of war at sea as seen by personnel of the Pakistan Navy.

The stories that follow will give the reader some idea of how the officers of the Pakistan Navy looked at what happened at sea during the 1965 and 1971 wars. Most of these stories have been gleaned from Bubbles of Water, an anthology of informal accounts and personal experiences of officers during these wars. These stories indicate how Pakistani naval officers reacted to various situations. Some of their reactions are odd, like the first story, but the interesting aspect of another story is that Pakistani naval officers are able to

laugh at themselves, unlike, in my opinion, the armies on both sides of the border. Incidents have also been taken from Story of the Pakistan Navy 19471972 and from Transition to Triumph.

1965 Somnath and Ghaznavi

The bombardment of Dwarka in 1965 by the Pakistan Navy and the euphoria it generated in Pakistan indicates how this minimal operation involving nonmilitary targets was played up and given the dimension of a great naval victory. This particular incident titled ‘Somnath and Ghaznavi’ has been narrated by Lieutenant Commander (Retd) PN Ghaznavi, PN, who in 1965 was the Torpedo and Anti-Submarine Officer (TAS) on board PNS Khyber, a destroyer. The essence of this story is the attempt by some members of the crew of PNS Khyber to liken the raid and bombardment of Dwarka with Mehmood Ghaznavi’s raids on Gujarat and his destruction of the Somnath Temple. For the crew of the Khyber, the incident assumed greater significance because the ship had an officer on board whose name was Ghaznavi. The crew was excited because they thought they were repeating history. Extracts of the narrative as told by Lieutenant Commander Ghaznavi best describe the incident:

When we were on our way for the bombardment of Dwarka in the 1965 war, I was the TAS Officer on PNS Khyber. At about sunset, the captain, Captain Hanif, announced on the main broadcast what we were about to do, and the entire ship’s company was abuzz with the news.

‘Dwarka?’ someone asked on the main decks, ‘where is that?’

‘On the coast of Gujarat.’

‘Gujarat? We are going to bomb Gujarat Shareef?’

‘Not our Gujarat, you fool, their Gujarat.’

‘ Tell us something more about Dwarka?’

‘ Remember Mehmood Ghaznavi and Somnath?’

‘Every child learnt it in school. Mehmood Ghaznavi came all the way from Afghanistan and destroyed the Hindu temple of Somnath in Hindustan.’

‘ Yes. Well, that’s where we are going. Dwarka is not far from Somnath. We are going to do what Ghaznavi did a thousand years ago. Only this time we will do it from the sea, riding in on our steel sea horses.’

They were silent with their thoughts, which were further stirred when they learnt of COMPAK’S¹ signal telling everyone to sharpen their swords as he was going to attack Somnath.

The bombardment of Dwarka did take place. Except for damage to a few civilian buildings and the death of a cow, the effects of the bombardment were negligible.

However, what the crew did not know and could not know was the retribution that was to follow. PNS Khyber was the first Pakistani warship to be destroyed in the 1971 war. A missile from a fast moving missile boat of the Indian Navy struck the ship, and it sank in a blaze. Much more was to follow. One more Pakistani warship was destroyed and sunk and another damaged and the port of Karachi was set ablaze.

Somnath and Dwarka, I think, were suitably avenged.

1971 and reality

‘1971 and reality’ focuses on the events of the 1971 war as seen by the Pakistan Navy. The title of this chapter is similar to the one given in Bubbles of Water and I have not changed it because it approximates closely with our own chapter titled ‘What Happened in 1971’. The two paragraphs below are excerpted from their preamble to the stories that follow:

1971 started pleasantly enough, but as the year rolled on, it started having the makings of a grand tragedy that finally descended on the country at the end of the year. It turned out to be the most traumatic period for the whole nation. The eastern half of the country was lost and in the navy, ships and lives were lost at sea and elsewhere. The navy had been left unprepared for the war of the missile age. That was the reality. What followed was a major loss of morale at the national level and, of course, within the navy as well.

But even in this grim period there have been incidents of human drama, of personal valour, even of humour, that have shone through the darkness of that time.

A close shave

This incident is taken from Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947-1972. Towards the end of November 1971 there were many indicators that war was close at hand. What was not known was where those offensives would be launched and their date and time. The Indian Navy, however, knew that the strength of the Pakistan Navy lay in its underwater capability and she was likely to use her submarines to attack ships in harbour, as early as possible, to unbalance the Indian Navy. Admiral Nanda, Chief of the Indian Naval Staff, visited Bombay on 1 December 1971. Keeping in view the threat of enemy submarines, he ordered the Western Fleet to leave Bombay harbour within twenty-four hours and to head for the open sea.

What was not known to Admiral Nanda and the Western Fleet was that PNS Mangro, one of Pakistan’s state of the art Daphne submarines, had been on patrol outside Bombay harbour since the 23 November 1971. It was replaced on 1 December 1971 by PNS Hangor, also a Daphne class submarine, of similar calibre. What actually happened is best described in excerpts based on the report of the captain of the submarine himself, Commander Tasnim Ahmed, SJ:

Hangor slipped in the early hours of 22 November 1971 for a patrol off the Indian Kathiawar coast. On 23 November, when a state of emergency was declared by Pakistan, Hangor was off Porbandar close to the Indian coast. On 1 December, she received orders directing her to shift to a patrol area off Bombay vacated by PNS submarine Mangro on completion of her patrol.

Hangor was on the surface on the night of 2 December when, at 2340, a large formation of ships was detected on her radar on an easterly bearing

about 35 miles away. Such abnormal detection ranges are frequently obtained in this area in winter months due to anomalous propagation of radio waves, a phenomenon which results from the trapping of radio waves in ducts formed due to temperature inversions in the atmosphere. Hangor closed this formation to a range of 26 miles at 0049 on 3 December, when she dived to a depth of 40 m and tracked the ships on her sonar till the early hours of the morning. A quick sweep by her radar at periscope depth revealed that the formation consisted of six escorts screening a main body of four ships. This was undoubtedly the Western Fleet comprising the cruiser INS Mysore with supporting auxiliaries and her escorts which had sailed from Bombay on 2 December.

At this time, though an all-out war was raging in East Pakistan, hostilities had not broken out in the West. Hangor could not attack these ships, as she did not have clearance to do so. It was not until 0820 on the morning of 4 December that Hangor learnt about the outbreak of hostilities through C-inC’s message received on the submarine broadcast. Frustration and disappointment at missing their prey at such a narrow margin was great for the Commanding Officer and the crew. But Hangor’s efforts were not entirely in vain. Location of the Indian Fleet at this crucial time was by itself a significant accomplishment. In this case however, her vigilance also contributed towards cancellation of a missile attack which this force was scheduled to launch at Karachi on the night of 5 December. Suspecting detection by the submarine, the Indian Fleet split and moved so far south that it was no longer in a position to execute its attack plan.

Hangor continued her patrol. Occasionally she closed on to Bombay harbour and detected some warships operating in waters too shallow for the submarine to make an approach and launch its torpedoes. At other times her limited submerged speed – main handicap of conventional submarines – prevented interception of good targets. The officers and men of Hangor were not deterred by these disappointments.

The informal version, however, of how the crew of the Hangor reacted when it detected the Western Fleet, as told to me by Rear Admiral Raja Menon, IN, is slightly different. Admiral Menon says that he had met with a member of the crew sometime after the war who described the situation in the control room of the Hangor when the Western Fleet was within torpedo range. He said although the captain eventually had his way, there were some hotheads amongst the crew who insisted that the Hangor attack the convoy as such an opportunity would never come again. According to him, the situation was very tense and a heated argument broke out but the Captain, Commander Tasnim, decided to go by the book and not attack because war had not yet been declared. One can imagine the frustration of both the Captain and the crew at that moment. This sense of frustration must have been magnified several times over when the Captain and the crew of the Hangor learnt that war had broken out just seventeen hours and a half later. Sometime later, Admiral Menon also met up with the Hangor’s second-in-command, an officer from East Pakistan, who told him very categorically that he himself was one of those who insisted the convoy should be attacked. However, discipline and good sense in the Hangor prevailed and the Western Fleet had a narrow shave although it was a ‘touch-and-go’ situation.

The lucky captain

The Indian Navy when making its threat assessment of the Pakistan Navy in 1971 concluded that the main danger came from Pakistan’s submarines, midget submarines and chariots. In 1971, the Pakistan Navy had the US submarine PNS Ghazi, three Daphne class submarines – the Hangor, Mangro and Shushuk were among the best, state of the art, non-nuclear submarines in the world. They also had Italian designed midget submarines and chariots.

The midget submarines were small 62-ton underwater craft, which could not carry a torpedo and this reduced its role to carrying frogmen to enemy harbours, into depths where larger submarines could not penetrate. The naval

element of the Special Surface Group manning the midget submarines were an elite, rigorously trained group. Midget crews were trained to be towed underwater by the Ghazi. For sorties longer than three days, the relief crew took over on passage and the attack crew took over just before being detached to attack. Chariots were not used during the war. This was due most probably to the non-availability of spare parts, which affected their operational capability.

During the 1971 war, one of these midget submarines was on patrol off the coast of Kathiawar. The submarine was fitted with an improvised torpedo firing capability. The torpedoes were of French origin and were fixed externally to the Italian-designed midget submarine by means of locally made torpedo cages. The torpedoes could be launched by air-operated pistons that were actuated from within the midget submarine. The procedure for firing these torpedoes was very basic. They just had to point the midget submarine at an enemy warship and shoot, allowing for the speed of the enemy warship and the direction in which it was travelling. The torpedo’s homing head would do the rest.

Vice Admiral STH Naqvi, who was captain of this midget submarine at that time, tells the story:²

We had been on patrol for some days; now it was 6th December and we were off Veraval on the Kathiawar coast. A short while ago, at the start of the first dog-watch, we’d been operating at a deep depth when our very basic type of sonar picked up some propeller noises seaward of us. My crew of five was alert and ready as I pointed the midget towards the noise and groped our way up to periscope depth. As my periscope broke surface, there was the ship suddenly filling my entire periscope view, right ahead of me. I recognized her immediately as a Petya, a Russian-built, anti-submarine frigate of the Indian Navy. She was at a distance of about 1,200 yards only. I had been waiting for such a ship to show up and now one had tumbled into my lap.

The Captain of the Petya was very relaxed as he sat on the bridge of his ship. It was a pleasant and sunny day in winter and the sea was calm. The signalman came and stood beside him with the signal log and the Captain flipped through those pages as captains do all over the world. There was peace and tranquility on the upper decks, a couple of sailors were smoking and shooting the breeze amid ships near the funnel area, as sailors are wont to do. One of them was wearing a blue boiler suit. It was a picture-postcard scene of a ship sailing towards the sunset.

The Petya did not have the slightest idea that it was being watched through the periscope of an enemy midget submarine. When one looks at an enemy target through a periscope, time is at a premium because the periscope is above the water and if discovered, the roles would be reversed and the submarine would become the ‘hunted’ instead of being the ‘hunter’. Having observed the scene for six seconds, the periscope was brought down and the midget submarine’s crew commenced on action drills for destruction of the Petya.

Excited, I ordered a quick alteration of course to starboard for the aim off, and as we turned, I took in the details of the Petya. I could see the whole length of her starboard side and her bow wave indicated that she was doing moderate, economical speed. The ship’s hull number had been obliterated, which is normal practice in wartime. She was proceeding with normal, cruising watch-keepers closed up; the guns were not manned and we could hear no sonar transmissions emanating from her.

The Petya simply had no idea that I was around. The moment we arrived at the correct heading, I ordered: ‘Shoot’ and the crew went through their carefully drilled movements. I held my breath and waited for the moment of truth.

Nothing happened!

‘Shoot! Damn it!’ I yelled, tearing my eyes from the periscope.

‘Use more air pressure.’

There was a flurry of further activity; somebody swore loudly, but still – nothing!

The crew tried everything – and I exhausted my favourite collection of profanities reserved for such occasions – but there was no making that fish swim out of its cage. It had become an obstinate mule that no amount of flogging could budge.

The captain of the midget submarine once again looked at the Petya through his periscope and was surprised to see a pair of Osa missile boats that were probably escorting the Petya and were now moving on either side of her and one of them was heading for the midget submarine at full speed. The submarine captain realized that instead of being the hunter, he had now become the hunted and quickly ordered the midget submarine to dive fast and deep to avoid being run over by the Osa missile boat. By the time the midget submarine was able to come back to periscope depth, the Petya had moved away and as far as the submarine was concerned, the chance of a lifetime had passed by. The captain of the midget submarine went on to say:

Later, there were the inevitable recriminations all round. Some blamed the

torpedo. Others said it was the up-angle of the midget at that precise moment that had prevented the torpedo from swimming out. There were many conjectures and theories. But when all was said and done, I couldn’t but marvel at the luck of that Indian captain I had watched through the periscope that day.

The captain of the Petya was a very lucky man indeed. He did not even know what a close shave he’d had. The missile boats had also not noticed the midget submarine and they were probably just changing sides when the midget submarine felt threatened.

Vice Admiral Hiranandani in his book Transition to Triumph says:

There were also reports that the Pakistan Navy, on their own, fitted two midgets with external torpedo tubes for firing MK-44 torpedoes. During the war, these midgets were deployed 30 miles from Karachi. When one of them tried to fire against an Indian ship the fire control system did not work.

Note: I have reliably learnt from the officers of the 25th Missile Squadron of that time that during mid to late November 1971, Nashak and Nirghat accompanied by a Petya were on patrol off the Kathiawar coast. The radar of Nashak picked up a very small ‘firm’ contact and tracked it for about 30 minutes. However, nothing was visible. Nashak charged towards the contact and it disappeared. Vice Admiral Hiranandani in his book states that a torpedo fired from a midget close to Karachi failed to swim away. I feel that the author of the above story may have got the dates wrong when he says that the incident took place on 6 December.

The name on the bullet

‘The lucky captain’ brings to centre stage the aspect of luck and destiny, particularly in war. In war, soldiers face the probability of death daily, but they keep it away from their minds by saying, ‘I will not die till the bullet that has my name on it finds me.’ This is a familiar belief, which helps many avoid the thought of death. The story that follows is a spoof on this adage and is by Hon Sub Lieutenant M Anwar, PN (Retd), who recalls:

We were in Chittagong during the 1971 war and there was plenty of shelling and bullets were flying around. All of us would take shelter on such occasions, naturally. But there was a colleague of ours who used to take more care than the rest of us regarding his safety, taking extra precautions and shelter whenever there was firing. We jokingly told him, ‘Extra precautions are of no use. If there is a bullet with your name on it then you cannot escape it.’

He replied with a smile, “It is not that bullet that I am worried about. I know I can’t do anything about that one. But its all those others flying around with the words ‘To whom it may concern’ written on them, those are the ones that I am worried about.’³

Dead or alive

‘Dead or alive’ is the story of a survivor of PNS Khyber which was sunk near Karachi on the night of 4 December 1971. The author is Rear Admiral (Retd) Hassan Asif. When the Khyber sank, the officer was a Lieutenant and the Navigating Officer of the ship.

The Khyber was sunk by missiles launched by INS Nirghat, a missile boat of the Indian Navy. The story narrated by the officer is similar to the stories told by survivors of the Khukri.

As the ship went down, Lieutenant Hassan Asif found himself, along with about sixty others, hanging on to a life raft that was punctured and damaged. They could not get into the raft as it would have sunk, so they hung on to the rim of the raft with a second circle of men hanging on to the shoulders of the inner ring and so on. They were also supported by their life jackets.

Being December the water was cold and those who were injured and exhausted died one by one, their bodies drifting away from the raft. Those who were still alive took the life jackets of the dead. It was, after all, a matter of survival.

Lieutenant Hassan Asif tells us about Topass Joginder Singh who was lying face up in the water, his body kept afloat by the life jacket he was wearing. An hour or so earlier, the ship’s doctor had declared him dead but the next day, when a merchant ship passed by about 3 nautical miles away, Joginder suddenly revived, put the whistle of the life jacket to his mouth and blew it loudly. So did other members of the crew who followed his example. The ship, however, passed them by and Joginder once again lay as dead as before.

The question in the minds of his companions was: did Joginder really blow his whistle or was it their imagination? Was he dead or alive? Exhausted survivors floated away one by one, too exhausted to either hold on or to swim back after losing their hold.

Lieutenant Hassan Asif also tells us about Jan, the ship’s steward:

A few hours later I saw our young steward, Jan, who was extremely friendly and cheerful when he used to serve us in the wardroom. Now he was in the last stages of his endurance and started to drift away from the group. Weakly he stretched out his hand to me for help. He was wearing his life jacket but was too weak to swim any more.

I was exhausted also and had hardly any energy left. We had had nothing to eat or drink, nor any sleep, during this time. My entire neck area was raw and bruised with the constant rubbing of the life jacket and long immersion in salt water. I reached out to him but at the same time I could not let go of the group because I wasn’t a very good swimmer. As we both strained towards each other I shall never forget the pleading look in the eyes that Jan fixed on me. It turned to one of despair, then of resignation, as the gap between us began to widen. I never saw Jan again.

Those pleading eyes haunted me for a long, long time after we were rescued.

PNS Muhafiz

‘Muhafiz’ as far as I have been able to find out, means ‘protector’ and PNS Muhafiz was a minesweeper that was on duty outside the harbour of Karachi on the night of 4 December 1971. This is a survivor’s story, very much like the stories of INS Khukri. However, this story and the others brings out that the sea does not distinguish between friend or foe. To her all are one. The sea herself is friendly or inimical depending on circumstances. When you are safe on board the sea can seem very friendly. It is a different situation altogether when you are in the sea yourself, battling against the elements.

PNS Muhafiz had been sent out on patrol duty 30 nautical miles out of Karachi harbour into the Arabian Sea to protect the Pakistan Navy against enemy action. The Western Fleet of the Indian Navy was, however, able to approach Karachi unopposed. This is strange because PNS Hangor was able to inform the Pakistan Navy about the strength and movement of the Indian Fleet the previous day. Yet, from the reaction of the Pakistan Navy it appeared that they did not, or would not, believe that the Indian Navy had the ability to pose a threat to the Pakistan Navy or to the harbour of Karachi. The Western Fleet was able to approach the precincts of the harbour of Karachi and the Pakistan Navy seemed to have no idea that the Indian Navy was in their midst. This was perhaps because strict radio silence was maintained, the approach was done at dusk and the attack was launched at night.

The captain of the Muhafiz, Lieutenant Commander Shaiq Usmani, was sitting in the captain’s chair, puffing on his pipe, on the night of 4 December 1971 when he noticed a white light approaching his ship at a slow speed on his port side at a height of about a thousand feet. At first he thought that this was perhaps an aircraft but then realized that it could also be an Indian missile targeting his ship.

He had heard that the Indians were using Styx missiles. He tried to alter course and ordered the 20 mm guns to open fire at the incoming missile but these two actions perhaps cancelled each other out: the alteration of the course disturbed the accuracy of the gun firing at the missile.

Before any further action could be taken, the missile struck the Muhafiz on the port side between the funnel and the bridge. There was a bright flash and a deafening explosion. Lieutenant Commander Usmani felt his skin burning, his hair singeing, and a sudden loss of hearing. At the same time he felt himself being thrown high into the air and falling into the sea. When he finally surfaced, gasping for air, he saw his ship in flames and burning debris

all around. Although it was night, the flames of the burning ship lit the area around and he was surprised to see the pipe that he had been smoking bobbing up and down near him. He realized that he must have clung on to his pipe when he was catapulted into the air.

Since he had not worn his life jacket, he grabbed a plank floating near him, pulled himself on top of it and paddled away from the burning ship to avoid the heat from the flames. His body was burning on account of the burns suffered from the explosion and exacerbated by the salt water. He also felt a humming sound in his ears as though his eardrums were ruptured.

The Muhafiz burned brightly for sometime and then sank with a great hiss. Out of a crew of about fifty only seven or eight managed to escape. It was now dark that the burning ship had disappeared and only after about three hours that a gunboat was seen approaching in the dark. It was PNS Sadaqat commanded by Lieutenant Qayyum Khan. These seven or eight survivors were picked up but out of these only three survived.

Lieutenant Commander Usmani had no idea of the extent of his injuries till his wife came to see him at the naval hospital, PNS Shifa, and told him that he was burnt black all over and she could only recognize him by his feet, which surprisingly remained unburned. Fortunately after a while the burnt skin peeled off and was in time replaced by new skin and his ruptured eardrums also healed.

After obtaining release from the navy, Lieutenant Commander Usmani joined the legal profession and after some years became Justice Shaiq Usmani. The person who interviewed the learned judge and heard his story noticed a pipe on his desk. It was slightly singed on one side. The judge probably kept the pipe on his desk to remind him of the ‘night of the missiles’.

PNS Khyber

The story ‘Somnath and Ghaznavi’ concerned the crews of a ship who likened the raid by the Pakistan Navy on Dwarka with the raids of Mehmood Ghaznavi on Somnath. The key factor in this comparison was the coincidence that there was on this ship an officer whose name was Ghaznavi. However, PNS Khyber, in 1971, was the first ship to be destroyed by the Indian Navy’s attack on Karachi. Was it a coincidence?

PNS Khyber, a destroyer of the Pakistan Navy first became aware, on the night of 4 December 1971 at around 10.15 p.m. (IST), of the presence of ships approximately 30 nautical miles away from Karachi. Presuming these ships to be hostile she proceeded to investigate. The story is related by Commander Rafique, PN.

Commander Rafique, PN, at that time a Sub Lieutenant and Deputy Electrical Officer of the Khyber was asleep in his cabin when around 9.45 p.m. (PST) he was woken up by the sound of a loud explosion. His first reaction was to go to the main switchboard, which was also his ‘action station’ in an emergency. There he met Lieutenant Commander Fazal Ahmad, the Electrical Officer, who asked him to start the emergency diesel generator. On his way to the generator there was another shattering explosion about three minutes after the first one and all the lights of the ship went off.

Rafique went to the main deck on the port side, near the funnel and walked towards the rear portion of the ship. He saw that all the lifeboats of the ship had been destroyed and dead bodies and wounded men were lying all over the deck. He was at this time in an area above the torpedo tubes when there was another explosion and he was thrown up into the air and landed on the

quarterdeck, dazed but not seriously hurt.

He remembers sitting on the edge of the quarterdeck in a dazed state when he suddenly realized that his feet were in water. He looked around and saw the ship settling down by her stern. Somebody who was already in the water shouted at him to leave the ship as it was sinking. Sub Lieutenant Rafique eased himself into the water and started swimming. He had no life jacket.

After a while he noticed a group of men in the water and he swam up to them. There were about ten of them all clinging on to a bolster. With so many hanging on to the bolster, Rafique could only get one hand to hang on to it and that too with only three fingers! All the others had life jackets except one who was being supported by a lifebuoy.

Due to burning fuel the sea around them was on fire, so they all together worked towards getting their float as far away as possible from the flames.

They looked at the sinking Khyber. She was on an even keel and went down by the stern. Finally only her big radar aerial was visible in the light of the flames and then that, too, disappeared. The Khyber had sunk. It took all of 15 to 20 minutes for the ship to slip down to her watery grave.

The sea was rough, the water cold and soon the last of the flames died down and the group of ten was now in the dark.

All night long they were tossed around by the waves as they tried to hang on to the bolster as best as they could. Having no life jacket, Rafique had to dog

paddle all the time to stay afloat. To those who know, this can be very tiring.

Slowly some of the ten began to give up and let go. By morning only seven were left. Soon, one more gave up and went under and there were only six left. Three on one side of the bolster and three on the other. Able Seaman Adalat was the one who had the lifebuoy.

In the morning the sun came out and warmed them up. One of the men had sweets in his pocket which he distributed to the six. Another had a raw potato which he broke and distributed. They began to talk of various things but most felt that they would not be saved.

All of a sudden they saw another group of survivors on a life raft about a mile or so away. One of the group of six who was very fit decided that he would swim over to them. Despite everyone’s protests and Rafique’s insistence that he should not go, he took off on his long swim. After a while they lost sight of him. And never saw him again. Now there were five.

After sometime they began to hallucinate. All felt that they could see the coastal hills near Cape Monze and soon their feet would touch the sandy bottom of the shore.

It was at this stage that Able Seaman Adalat gave up. He was deadbeat and weak. He wearily took off his lifebuoy and handed it to Rafique. His last words were, ‘It is all finished for me. You have this now, Sir’ and taking no note of Rafique’s protestations he too was gone. Now only four remained.

Another day passed. Two merchant ships passed them by but they were too far away to notice them. Lonely and exhausted they too began to despair about surviving another cold night in the water.

Suddenly, without warning a ship materialized out of the darkness of the night and came right over them nearly drowning them in the process. Rafique and others were shoved under the water as the ship thundered past overhead. When he surfaced, Rafique saw the remainder of the group. The ship stopped and lowered a boat to recover them. Initially, Rafique was wary, thinking that this might be an Indian warship and that they would become prisoners.

The ship, however, turned out to be a patrol boat of the Pakistan Navy, the PNS Sadaqat with Lieutenant Qayyum Khan in command. He had luckily stumbled upon them in the dark. sometime earlier he had recovered a bigger group of survivors from the Khyber that included the Captain and the XO. Rafique later learnt that the helmsman of the Sadaqat had seen them at the last moment and stopped the propellers – an action that probably saved their lives.

Rafique’s tongue got swollen to double its size probably because of the seawater he had swallowed and as a result he could not have any solid food. Later when he was landed ashore he found that he could not walk straight but angled off in a direction nearly forty-five degrees from the normal. The size of his tongue and his sense of direction returned to normal after about two days in hospital.

Rafique regrets losing hold of the lifebuoy during the rescue of his group. It would have been a fitting remembrance of his experience and of Able Seaman Adalat, who had given it to him.

The night of missiles

This story relates to Operation Python, the second attack by the Indian Navy on the night of 8 December 1971. Rear Admiral Jamil Akhtar describes the effect that the previous attack of the night of 4-5 December had on the Pakistan Navy. There is a humorous side to the story. On the night of 8 December 1971, two ships of the Pakistan Navy, PNS Dacca and PNS Munsif, were out at anchorage as they could not find sanctuary in the inner harbour. PNS Dacca, an oil tanker, was too heavy with oil and because of her deep draft and tidal conditions was not able to enter the inner harbour. Why the Munsif was not inside the inner harbour is not known.

The sinking of PNS Khyber and PNS Muhafiz two nights earlier, by missile boats of the Indian Navy, had created some apprehension in the minds of officers and sailors of the Pakistan Navy. The Pakistan Navy knew from aerial reconnaissance that the Indian Navy was still around and so another attack could not be ruled out. On 7 December the Pakistan Navy passed an order directing all warships to enter the inner harbour,⁴ however, the Dacca and the Munsif remained outside. All ships that were anchored in the harbour were darkened and Karachi also became invisible as a ‘blackout’ was ordered.

PNS Munsif was a small boat and considered herself defenseless against a missile attack. She looked for ways and means to make herself as innocuous as possible to last out the night. She selected four large merchant ships that were anchored close to each other and anchored among them hoping should there be an attack she would not be noticed. She also shut down her diesel generator, and her radar to further reduce the opportunity of a missile homing in on her.

After taking all precautions, the XO, Lieutenant Jamil Akhtar, who had not

had any sleep during that week, decided to go down to his cabin to rest and ‘went out like a light’ as soon as his head hit the pillow. He says it seemed as though it was only a few moments later that he was woken up with someone shouting, ‘Sir, Karachi is under attack!’ Jamil quickly dressed, name tag and all, as he felt that if anything untoward happened to him they would be able to identify him. He reminiscences:

It turned out to be a night to remember. That night the crew of Munsif had a grandstand view of the missiles fired at the ships at the anchorage. Fortunately Munsif came out unscathed.

The Mauripur area was under air attack and the sky full of tracers. Then came the missiles from the south. The first missile missed all the ships, and screamed past overhead in the direction of the harbour. Arriving at the end of its run, it fell with a tired sigh on the Keamari oil tanks, setting them ablaze. The second one struck the nearby British cargo ship Harmatton and set it on fire. The third missile struck the other nearby ship, the Panama registered cargo ship Gulf Star, which blew up dramatically before our very eyes and sank very definitely in under a minute. The fourth missile struck PNS Dacca further away and started a fire there.

Munsif spent the rest of that night in rescuing people from the sea. But before she could start on her errand of mercy she had to first do some charity work at home and pluck some of her own men from the dark waters around her. What happened was that as the nearby Harmatton burnt, one of her tanks burst and a big piece of burning debris was sent flying in the direction of the Munsif. A young new-entry sailor, seeing yet another flaming missile-like object arcing in the sky towards him, shouted ‘Missile! Missile!’ Someone else joined in the yelling and added ‘Abandon ship!’ for good measure. In the twinkling of an eye there were the sounds of splashes and about a dozen men were in the water.

Lieutenant Jamil Akhtar had his hands full trying to get them back on board. But he remembers that even in this time of mortal danger and confusion there was a moment of comic relief. One of the persons in the water was a Chief Petty Officer (CPO), who had a trademark mannerism of speech. He would start every sentence with the words ‘Cheez ye hai najee (It’s like this, you see)’. Now here he was in the sea along with nearly a dozen other sailors, who had prematurely jumped into the sea without adequate reason for doing so, and was probably feeling a little foolish. However, he could see a perfectly good life raft sitting idle on the ship. So he called out to the Electrical Officer who among others was watching the antics of the men in the water and shouted out, “Cheez ye hai najee, Sir, could you kindly throw that life raft down?’

The Electrical Officer had the wit to reply and to repay the CPO in his own coin and said, ‘Cheez ye hai najee, Chief Saab, could you come back on board? Right now!’

Repairing the air conditioner on patrol

This is an account by Vice Admiral (Retd) Tasnim Ahmed who was the captain of the Hangor. The submarine was on patrol off the Kathiawar coast when there was a major breakdown of her air conditioning system. It was a big blow for the crew because it meant that the submarine would have to return to the dockyard at Karachi for repairs. The work would take a minimum of thirty-six hours, that is, an entire day and a half. Commander Tasnim discussed the matter with his officers and the sea being calm they decided to repair the air conditioner at sea by surfacing and carrying out the repairs in the open. This was a major security risk. It had to be done. It was impossible to work without the air conditioner as there would be electric short circuits, overheating and deterioration of equipment.

Admiral Tasnim says:

We withdrew from our patrol area. The machinery – the motor and the pump assembly – had to be lifted up by chain and tackles and after that the ship’s movement had to be kept to a minimum as the repairs progressed. We surfaced in the evening and started the repair work. The sea being calm, we cracked open the forward hatch and lined up the ventilation system to try to cool things down a bit inside the submarine in this manner.

As night fell I kept the navigational lights switched off and rigged up a couple of 100-watt bulbs on the forward casing. Then I ordered the submarine to carry out slow, wide turns in the area. I hoped that any ship or aircraft seeing us at night would take us for a fishing vessel, with the typical disregard of most fishing vessels towards displaying the correct navigational lights. We detected an Indian warship on our ECM set, but it was still far away.

Much later, I was in the wardroom when I got an urgent call of ‘Captain on the Bridge’ from the Officer of the Watch. As I rushed through the Ops Room on my way to the bridge, a radio operator reported, ‘Sir, I’ve just picked up a ship transmitting on the coastal command net to Bombay. Strength is strong. The transmitting ship is very close. ECM also had her strong.’

When I reached the bridge I saw the navigational lights of a ship about a mile away, which is pretty close at sea. The Officer of the Watch said that he saw the ship when she suddenly switched on her navigational lights, which had been off before that. The arrangement of her navigational lights clearly indicated that she was a warship. We were naturally maintaining radio silence

and not operating radar.

The ship started challenging us by flashing lights, to which we made no reply. The first and natural instinct of a submariner in such a situation is to dive. But I had to curb this natural instinct because it would have been a dead giveaway to the ship that we were a submarine. What was more, the repairs were still in progress. I decided to remain on the surface and to continue our brazen act of being a fishing vessel.

The forward hatch had already been shut. So we vented a number of ballast tanks to make the submarine to go a bit down in the water. The casing was awash now and only the sail showed above the water, further adding – I hoped – to the fishing-vessel charade.

The ship closed up even more, till she must have been half a mile. On the bridge I held my breath. Then, at last, we saw her turn away slowly and I let out a huge sigh of relief.

The bluff had worked!

The whole episode must have lasted about 20 minutes. We submerged and went back to our patrol area. Eight days later when the Hangor encountered the Indian frigate, INS Khukri, our equipment was working nicely, thanks to the repaired air-conditioning system. We were, therefore, able to detect, track and attack the Khukri and sink her at the end.

Khyber (Capt Naseem Malik)

Endnotes

1.

COMPAK – Commander Pakistan Fleet/Flotilla

2.

Bubbles of Water, pp. 341-343

3.

ibid, p.329

4.

Transition to Triumph, pp. 199,200.

five

Strategy and the Principles of War Standard Operating Procedures and Naval Traditions

‘ And You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do. – Eleanor Roosevelt

’ The evolution of the strategy and the plans for the 1971 war

During the 1971 war, Indian civil and military leadership effectively utilized the concept of joint operations not only amongst the three services of the

armed forces but amongst the essential civil services as well. That this happened without an enunciated national strategy or a national security doctrine is a tribute to the leadership of that time.

This success has unfortunately given the present generation of leaders, an excuse for not evolving and enunciating a national strategy and a national security doctrine. Their logic, perhaps, is that if we could win a war in the past without an enunciated national strategy then we can do so similarly in the future.

The strategies evolved by the armed forces in 1971 was to attack in the East and defend in the West. Defensive operations in the West, however, were to be a form of offensive defence, that is, defensive operations in the West also envisaged offensive operations, where necessary, for the capture of ground for bargaining purposes after the inevitable ceasefire. Admiral Kohli in his book We Dared says:

The objective of the 1971 action as defined by the Chiefs of Staff and by each respective Service Chief was to gain as much ground as possible in the East, to neutralize the Pakistani forces there to the extent we could, and to establish a base, as it were, for a possible state of Bangladesh. In the West, the objective was to hold the Pakistani forces. It was realized that the war could not go on indefinitely, not so much because of the limitations of manpower or aircraft but because the UN Security Council and other influential bodies were bound to intervene. It was realized that any territories that may be gained in the West would most likely, as earlier, have to be given back to Pakistan at the end of the fighting.¹

The strategies of the navy and the air force, however, were ultimately offensive in nature, both in the West and the East.

As an outcome of the naval strategy, the Chief of Naval Staff issued his operational directives to the navy, which he has listed in his book The Man Who Bombed Karachi. These are:

◆ In the western theatre, quick and decisive crippling blows to be delivered from the very commencement of hostilities. The pressure to be maintained until complete supremacy at sea is achieved.

◆ Bold and direct thrusts to be made at Karachi, the citadel of the Pakistani Navy, to seek and destroy the forces deployed in its defence.

◆ Bombardment of the port installations and Keamari Oil Tank Farm in Karachi.

◆ Bombardment of the Makran coast.

◆ Support Indian Army and complement Indian Air Force operations in East Pakistan.

◆ East Pakistan to be isolated from West Pakistan by severing the lines of sea communication between the two wings. No reinforcements of men and material to be permitted to reach East Pakistan by sea.

◆ Vigorous trade warfare to be conducted against Pakistani merchant ships

and contraband control imposed.

◆ A forward deployment of our submarines off Karachi to seek and destroy Pakistani warships.

◆ Complete protection to be provided at sea to our own merchant shipping so that our own trade could carry on unhindered.

A discussion between Admiral Nanda and Admiral Krishnan, FOC-in-C (Flag-Officer-Commanding-in-Chief) East gives us an idea of the thought process that led to the evolution of the naval plans for the war. Admiral Krishnan in his book No Way But Surrender says:

All our discussions stemmed from one overriding thought, a firm conviction, bordering on obsession, that should war come, the Navy should throw everything it had into battle and our entire strategy from the very onset of hostilities should be one of bold offensive. We must scrap, erase, and wipe off from our minds any ideas of a defensive posture, we must seek action, take any risks necessary and destroy the enemy in his ports and at sea.

He further states that his concept of operations for the East, which was later approved by Naval Headquarters, led to his aim – ‘To destroy the enemy’s maritime forces deployed in support of his military operations in East Bengal and to deny all approaches to the river ports …’

Admiral Kohli in his book We Dared says:

The main thrust of the Western Naval Command Plan was to engage and destroy as many Pakistan main Naval units as possible. Their destruction would deny the Pakistan Navy any chance to interfere with our trade or to mount any bombardment attacks on our homeland. If the search for their units meant approaching Karachi where they would be on patrol, we would have to take that risk.

The Western Fleet was given a broad directive to seek and destroy enemy warships, protect our merchant shipping, deny sea lanes to enemy shipping and to render ineffective the maritime line of communication between West Pakistan and East Pakistan to prevent any reinforcements from reaching beleaguered Pakistani forces at that end.

A submarine patrol was to be instituted off Karachi to sink their warships and merchant ships proceeding to Karachi.

In order to destroy the enemy’s main units and harbour installations at Karachi, it was intended to use missile boats in three separate operations. Karachi was defended by shore- based military aircraft whose range of operations was approximately 150 nautical miles. It was, therefore, planned that the missile boats would arrive at sunset approximately 150 nautical miles from Karachi, go in at maximum speed during darkness and withdraw at maximum speed so as to be beyond the range of their military aircraft before sunrise. There were risks involved but it was decided that they would be taken.

How well did the strategy work as far as the planned attacks in the West were concerned? This can perhaps be best examined by comparing the conduct of operations against the ‘principles of war’.

Strategy and the principles of war

The principles of war, as we know them today, have guided the thinking of military leaders of the twentieth century. Earlier to this, guiding principles were taken from voluminous philosophies of war and maxims of great military leaders. It was only in 1921 that Colonel JFC Fuller (later, Major General JFC Fuller) an illustrious and learned military historian and scholar, presented a distillation of military wisdom of the past in ten easily understood principles. These principles have been followed by many nations especially by the NATO powers and Commonwealth countries. General Fuller maintained that irrespective of circumstances and the advances of technology, strategy and tactics would always be governed by these ten principles.

Some of us are perhaps under the impression that the principles of war apply only to the land battle. It should surprise nobody that these principles apply equally to war at sea and in the air. The Indian Navy during the 1971 war exploited these principles and was able to dominate their area of operations and beyond, both in the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. If the principles of war did India proud, it can also be said that the Pakistan Navy lost out because they failed to follow these principles.

In the 1971 war the Indian Armed Forces went beyond the Principles of War and made them more dynamic and meaningful.

The principles are:

◆ Selection and Maintenance of Aim, which is the product of a commander’s assessment and overall intention and governs strategy and its execution in the form of objectives and plans, most of which are affected by

the other nine principles.

◆ Maintenance of Morale. Without sound morale, failure is likely no matter how good the plan. The wise commander never ignores it and works diligently to enhance it.

◆ Surprise upsets the best-laid plans of the opponent and throws him off balance. Used properly it is a battle-winning factor.

◆ Economy of Effort makes best use of available resources including time and space. It helps in the creation of reserves.

◆ Concentration of Force involves application of force at a time and place which will unbalance the enemy and ensures his ultimate destruction.

◆ Security ensures that one’s own plans are not given away and at the same time the enemy’s plans are known to own forces by good intelligence and by use of the best technological means to obtain such information.

◆ Offensive Action demands an aggressive posture even in defence. Offensive action means taking the initiative and making the enemy react to your moves, and if planned and executed properly, he can be thrown off balance and destroyed. Failure to be imbued with offensive spirit leads to supine inactivity and invites disaster.

◆ Flexibility is the ability to react positively to changing circumstances in

furtherance of the overall plan. In this, mobility and the use of reserves to meet an opportunity or a threat is important.

◆ Co-operation is the ability of disparate forces and organizations to work as a team towards the achievement of common objectives. Within the armed forces it involves mutual cooperation between the army, navy, air force, paramilitary forces and similar organizations. At a higher level it means cooperation with the essential services, central and state government organizations, forces from friendly countries, etc.

◆ Administration is a very important principle, which is sometimes ignored. Brilliant operational and tactical plans can come to grief if they do not have adequate administrative support.

Military defeats demand introspection so that past mistakes can be avoided and better performance ensured. Victories, however, are often taken for granted and, therefore, can be self-defeating in the long run if not properly analysed and steps taken to build on strengths and eliminate weaknesses. Victories could also sometimes be illusory if one takes into consideration an opponent who did all the wrong things or that the opponent made more mistakes and bigger ones at that. One, therefore, needs to examine the good things that we did in 1971 and also the not so good things, so that we are better prepared. What is more important is that the Pakistan Navy would have carried out a ‘post-mortem’ of their failure of the 1971 war and will be endeavouring to get their own back. The situation as it existed in 1971 will never again be repeated. We need, therefore, to continuously attempt to ‘look into the mind of our opponents review his resources and analyse his options and look for new ways to outwit him’.

In this context, the principles of war could be a reasonable template to briefly examine our performance and that of our opponent in the war at sea in 1971.

Selection and maintenance of aim

Admiral Nanda had a clear aim – the destruction of the Pakistan Navy and that too in their homeport of Karachi and to also prevent all communication by sea between West and East Pakistan. He had, in fact, made an open statement some years earlier that he would set Karachi on fire. The Naval Chief, however, had a difficult time in achieving his aim. He had to use all his powers of persuasion to convince the prime minister that the navy needed to be given an opportunity to prove itself. Thereafter, he had to get the necessary sanction to attack the port of Karachi. He had to also overcome the resistance from the Flag Officer in Chief of the Western Fleet with whom serious differences arose on the plan to attack Karachi. Over and above this, he also had to overcome the apprehensions of his own staff at Naval Headquarters. That he managed to do this single-handedly is commendable.

There are, however, questions that need to be asked. The Indian Navy had planned three attacks on Karachi. What is not clear is why the second attack, planned for the night of 6 December, was postponed. The fleet, we are told, was already on the way to carry out its task when they were told to postpone the attack. The information that Pakistan had got together a fleet of civil aircraft to carry out surveillance for the Pakistan Navy or that a Pakistan aircraft had strafed one of its own ships do not appear to be strong enough reasons to have postponed so vital an operation as the second attack. The very fact that Pakistan had to resort to the use of civil aircraft for naval surveillance was enough of an indicator that the Pakistan Air Force had other commitments on their hands, confirmed later on by the Pakistan Air Chief when he turned down his naval counterpart’s request for air cover for the navy. Also we were using the cover of darkness to attack Karachi and the aircraft available for the defence of Karachi did not have night fighting capability.

Subsequently, the attack was further postponed by the FOCWEF due to inclement weather. How valid were the reasons for the first postponement? Perhaps the answer lies in what Admiral Hiranandani says in Transition to Triumph. Commenting on the relations between Admiral Nanda, Chief of Naval Staff and Admiral Kohli, he says:

In retrospect, it is to the credit of both Admirals that they let this acrimony subside. But it did affect the conduct of operations during the war on two occasions:

◆ When Naval Headquarters intervened on 6 December to cancel a missile attack when forces were well on their way towards their targets; and

◆ In prodding Western Naval Command to do something about the submarine off Bombay.²

However, while discussing this issue with naval officers who took part in the war either as combatants or as staff officers, two other reasons have surfaced. These are:

◆ Only one missile boat was available for the second attack (Operation Python). The other missile boat, which had been tasked for the second attack, had become unserviceable. It was thought that an operational boat could be added to the force if the attack was postponed by a day. That, however, did not happen and the attack ultimately went in with only one boat.

◆ On the afternoon of 6 December, when the Naval Chief went to the Naval

War Room and looked at the location of the elements of the Western Fleet as represented there, he felt that the main body of the Western Fleet was too far away in time and space from its predetermined location from where it was to carry out its diversionary attack so as to divert the attention of the Pakistan Navy from the missile boat attack. This, he felt, made the operation of the missile boats very vulnerable

Whatever happened, happened for the best. Weather conditions worsened on the night of 6 December and it would have been extremely difficult for the missile boats, which are very light, to have functioned effectively.

As far as the Pakistan Navy is concerned, it appears that it did not have any worthwhile overall aim. She perhaps based her strategy on defensive operations. The offensive character of her strategy was based on the use of her submarine arm, which resulted in the destruction of the Khukri. She had also tasked PNS Ghazi to destroy the Vikrant. Unfortunately for her, she was outwitted by the deception measures initiated by FOCINC Eastern Fleet and the Ghazi self-destructed.³

Maintenance of morale

The morale of the Indian Navy was at a high point because for the first time it was being given the opportunity to prove itself. This was what all ranks in the navy were seeking for a long time and they were happy that the moment had finally come. In addition, they trained hard and this gave them a lot of confidence, which is a vital factor for good morale. Lastly, the Naval Chief personally came to Bombay, one day before the departure of the Western Fleet, to brief all captains of ships and to give them a pep talk. This further contributed to their sense of worth, and made them understand that they were going on a great mission and that they had all the support that was available.

All ranks in the Indian Navy saw in their Chief a senior officer who knew what he was doing and that he had the courage and conviction to see his plans through.

The Pakistan Navy, however, did not seem to have a worthwhile plan and if they did have one, no one apparently knew what it was. In Pakistan’s Crisis in Leadership, published in1972, Major General Fazal Muqeem Khan writes:

Like other major military decisions, the C-in-C Navy had neither been consulted nor associated with any of the deliberations that resulted in the decision to counter-attack from West Pakistan. He was merely called up by COS Army, to Rawalpindi on 29 November 1971, and informed of the President’s decision to open hostilities in the West in a few days. He was not given the actual date and time, which were to be conveyed to him by C-in-C Air through a mutually agreed code word at the appropriate time.

The rapidity and force of the Indian offensive and the use of missiles so overwhelmed the Pakistan Navy that it had to take shelter within the inner harbour of Karachi. An excerpt from Bubbles of Water:

The Navy had been left unprepared for the war of the missile age. That was the reality. What followed was a major loss of morale at the national level and of course within the Navy as well.⁴

Surprise

Surprise is often the key to victory provided, of course, that the other

principles of war are not neglected. What is the use of surprise if the force does not have the wherewithal to capitalize on the success to be achieved by surprise? In the 1971 war, the Pakistan Navy was essentially taken by surprise. It did not expect the Indian Navy to attack it within its own harbour and it thereafter went into a state of paralysis. They were also disconcerted by the way we used our missiles.

Some years after the war, it was informally learnt that on the night of 8 December 1971 when the second attack was nearing Karachi, units of the Western Fleet of the Indian Navy had captured a merchant vessel somewhere near the port of Gwadar. Signals from the vessel were picked up by the Pakistan Navy. The Pakistan Naval Chief now became aware that the Western Fleet was near Gwadar and requested the Pakistan Air Chief to destroy the Western Fleet. He had barely finished talking to the Air Chief when the second missile attack was launched on Karachi. He then went back to the Air Chief and told him that the Fleet was now attacking Karachi. The Pakistan Air Chief apparently told his naval counterpart to make up his mind as to the whereabouts of the Indian Fleet but by now the Indian Air Force attack on Karachi commenced and the Pakistan Air Force had its hands full trying to beat back the attack and the request of the Pakistan Naval Chief was never granted. The attempts at surprise and deception by the Indian Navy could, therefore, be said to be eminently successful.

Economy of effort

Economy of effort postulates the best use of available resources in time and space. At the higher level it can be said that the resources available to the Indian Navy were used exceptionally well. The allocation of resources to the Western and Eastern fleets took into account the threat and these were utilized to their maximum capacity. The innovative and imaginative use of the missile boats for the attack on Karachi and the use of the Vikrant in the East was bold and brilliant. At Western Naval Command, however, there

seemed to be some aberrations in the optimum use of available resources that resulted in the sinking of the Khukri. Tasking the Khukri and the Kirpan to hunt and destroy the Hangor was an unrealistic and unreasonable task considering their capability vis-à-vis the Daphne submarine. Although Seaking helicopters were made available they were inexplicably withdrawn at a critical time and that, too, without informing the captain of the Khukri. This resulted in leaving the arena clear for the Hangor to use her superior detection capabilities to destroy the Khukri. Why and how was this allowed to happen? If the captain of the F-14 Squadron, which happened to be the captain of the Khukri, was given the responsibility of conducting the hunter-killer operation against Pakistan’s Daphne class submarine then why were the Seaking helicopters not placed under his command and a helicopter controller placed on the Khukri to better control them? These are questions being asked by the survivors, for which there are no clear answers. There ought to have been some measure of command and control given to the force commander, that is, the captain of the Khukri for proper co-ordination of forces operating in the area but this did not happen.

As far as the Pakistan Navy is concerned, the utilization of her submarine fleet was purposeful. Nothing much can, however, be said about the rest of her naval force. Action or the lack of it speaks for itself.

Concentration of force

Concentration of force implies the need to apply maximum force at that critical point – the enemy’s centre of gravity, which will unbalance the enemy and assist in his ultimate collapse. In this, the Indian Navy did very well. Citadel Karachi was the centre of gravity of the Pakistan Navy and critical to her performance. The destruction of some of her warships and setting the oil installations in the vicinity of Karachi on fire was all that was required to destroy the will of the Pakistan Navy to fight.

Security

Security calls for first-class intelligence and counter-intelligence work. The Indian Army’s radio interception network, initiated at the insistence of General Jacob, the then Chief of Staff of Headquarter Eastern Command, resulted in the interception of naval radio communication between West and East Pakistan and the breaking of the Pakistan Naval code. In consequence, the Indian Navy was fed with all communication of importance regarding the movement of Pakistani ships and submarines. Joint operations by elements of the three services as part of Signal Intelligence played a major role in keeping the three services updated on information essential for operations on land and at sea.

The planning of the attack on Karachi was a highly classified operation and steps had to be initiated in order to avoid a breach of security and loss of surprise. It is only after the Western Fleet left Bombay on 2 December that the captains of ships were permitted to access their written orders. Sealed envelopes carried these orders, which they were directed to open only when they were clear of Bombay.

As far as Pakistan is concerned, neglect of this aspect was an advantage that was given to India. Statements made by Pakistan’s military leaders gave away strong indicators that she was about to start the war. Signal traffic between West and East Pakistan also gave away vital information. These indicators were useful to the Indian Armed Forces to prepare for the expected attacks. Although the exact date and time of the offensives were not known, it was apparent that the offensive was likely twenty-four to forty-eight hours around the date that she actually attacked.

Offensive action

Offensive action aims at taking the initiative and attacking the enemy and throwing them off balance. The Indian Navy wasted no time in initiating its planned offensive against Pakistan. Within twenty-four hours of the outbreak of the war, the Western Fleet of the Indian Navy was on the outskirts of Karachi. The momentum of the offensive was maintained right till the ceasefire. The nature of operations both on the western and eastern seaboards were entirely offensive in nature.

Although it was Pakistan who started the war by launching attacks on our airfields and against our defences in J&K and Punjab, the Indian Armed Forces were prepared and the offensives were blunted and it was India who initiated the offensives thereafter. Pakistan failed to benefit from her initiative in implementing this principle of war because she failed to implement the other principles of surprise and security.

Flexibility

Flexibility implies the ability to react to changing circumstances and situations within the overall plan. Was the giving up of the third offensive against Karachi by the Western Fleet (in favour of using available resources to hunt for the Hangor) a matter of implementing the principle of flexibility? Or was it a compromise on the selection and maintenance of aim? Or was it an exercise of the principle of economy of effort in that there were no suitable targets available?

The Indian Navy also showed flexibility in approach to the concept of the use of missile boats. These were designed by the Russians for use against landing

forces. They were meant to hide in small coves and harbours and then used in short-range attacks against forces being landed by sea. The engines were aircraft engines with 500 hours of life and adapted by the Russians for these boats. Their use in the offensives in Karachi astounded the Russians and highlights the flexibility of approach in their use by the Indian Navy.

As far as Pakistan is concerned, she was, in my opinion, unable to react to changing circumstances for valid reasons perhaps.

Co-operation

Co-operation is a principle of war that was implemented by the Indian armed forces, paramilitary forces, essential services and departments of the Central and state governments to a degree never before achieved.

As far as the Pakistan Navy is concerned, the Naval Chief had neither been consulted nor associated with any of the deliberations concerning the Pakistan offensive in the West. He was merely called up by the Pakistan Army Chief to Rawalpindi on 29 November 1971 and informed of the President’s decision to open hostilities in the West in a few days. He was not given the actual date and time. Failure to get support from the Pakistan Air Force even after the Naval Chief had rung up the Pakistan Air Chief personally also highlights the lack of jointmanship and cooperation between the Pakistan Navy and Air Force.⁵

Administration

An important principle of war, which is crucial for success of any operation and the neglect of which often results in failure. That the operations of the Western Fleet succeeded is adequate testimony that this aspect was well taken care of. Nothing much has been written on this aspect by either side.

Strategy

Nowhere has there been any mention made of the term ‘strategy’. The planning and conduct of operations by both the fleets describes tasks, plans, and directives but there is no mention of the word ‘strategy’. It is obvious that for operations of such a scale and over a considerable period of time, there must have been some strategy stated or unstated.

Standard Operational Procedures

Standard Operational Procedures (SOPs) are laid-down systems that guide commanders at all levels in the conduct of operations in peace and war. These procedures are based on past experience and proven performance. One such SOP lays down that when the commander of a force is tasked to carry out an operational task, supporting forces are placed under his command or they are available to him ‘on call’, that is, when he needs them. Regrettably, this principle/procedure was ignored by Western Naval Command when tasking the F-14 Squadron for the hunter-killer operations to eliminate the enemy submarine detected near Diu.

On examining the issue we see that firstly, when the Khukri and the Kirpan were tasked to hunt and destroy the Hangor, available forces were not allotted for this operation. Secondly, when they decided to use the services of two Seaking helicopters, they were neither placed under the command of Captain

Mulla, the commander of the force, nor was there any understanding that the commander of the force could task them to fulfil the aim. Had this been done, the commander of the task force could have ensured that:

◆ The Seaking helicopters operating in the area were armed with torpedoes, and

◆ The two helicopters would be conducting their operations in a coordinated manner with the two anti-submarine frigates.

From the interview of the survivors we learn:

◆ The two Seaking helicopters were not armed.

◆ The two Seaking helicopters were functioning under the command of Headquarters Western Naval Command.

◆ The Force Commander, Captain Mulla, who was on the Khukri had no information as to the details of the tasks of the Seaking helicopters other than their area of operation.

Naval Traditions

Captains going down with their ships

The Indian Navy, I am sure, does not enjoin its captains to go down with their ships. We need, however, to accept that the customs of the service in the Indian Army, Navy and Air Force have been so strongly influenced by the customs and traditions of the British Armed Forces that we sometimes subconsciously follow customs and traditions that are archaic and redundant. Much has been done to formally institute and change these traditions and customs but sometimes their influence remains.

A captain going down with his ship is an act that is difficult to comprehend when one considers how wasteful it is in terms of loss of valuable leadership that takes so many years to nurture, train and develop. Also, the question needs to be asked as to what is it that impels a man to sacrifice his life knowing full well that he has done all that is possible to save his ship and his crew and that he has the opportunity to also save himself but is required by some custom not to do so. It is not very clear how and why the custom of a captain going down with his ship started. It was probably the concern of European seafaring nations that every possible effort needed to be made to save their ships and state property and that the best way to ensure this was to initiate some sort of tradition that made it the moral responsibility of the captain to make every possible effort to save the lives and property of the state.

The dramatic stories of the sinking of the Titanic and of HMS Birkenhead gives us some idea as to what were the principles, beliefs, customs and traditions of those times that dictated behaviour and the code of conduct of life at sea. In the first incident, custom or the code of conduct desired that it was the women and children who were to be given first preference to use the lifeboats, then the remaining passengers, then the crew and last of all the captain. This is understandable because it is the duty of those in charge to first save those who they are responsible for and then attempt to save themselves and since the captain is overall in charge, it is understandable that he should be the last to leave a ship that is sinking. The story, poem and song

of the sinking of the Birkenhead also make a powerful impression. In this case, since there were not enough lifeboats for all, the Commanding Officer had all soldiers of the ship stand to attention with orders that no one would break away from the battalion in order to save himself. This was to ensure that the lives of the women and children were not endangered and that was the origin of the code of conduct on all such occasions – ‘Women and children first’.

Some idea of the origins of this custom can be gleaned from Commanding Officers, a book by David Miller who says:

One of the most extreme demonstrations of a commanding officer’s responsibility for the unit under his command is the naval practice – if that is the right word for it – of a ‘captain going down with his ship’. No proper definition of this particular action can be found but it can be taken to mean that, his ship having suffered some disaster either in battle, by the action of the sea, by fire, by neglect or by the action of another ship (for example, in collision), the captain who is physically capable of saving himself, voluntarily chooses to remain with his sinking ship and so meets his death.

David Miller further says:

The concept of the ‘captain going down with his ship’ seems to have crept in at some point of time in the middle of the nineteenth century and, at least originally, it seems to have applied to both naval and merchant services.⁶

David Miller gives many examples of captains going down with their ships in World Wars I and II, each event creating perhaps a compulsion for other captains to follow suit. He says that, to his knowledge, no clear directions

exist in any navy where it is said that a captain should save his own life after doing all that is possible to save his ship and crew. It is perhaps expedient for them not to give such clear instructions because they fear that captains may put their own lives ahead of their command that includes the ship and its crew. Also, navies may feel that today’s wars are of such short duration that the occasion may not arise, and even if it did, there may not be many such incidents and it would, therefore, be expedient not to clarify the matter.

Of the many examples given by David Miller, two of them highlight contrary opinions on this issue. Captain Langsdorff, the captain of the ship, the Admiral Graff Spee, in the battle of the River Plate blew up his ship after which he and his crew were transported to Buenos Aires. The Argentinean newspapers thereafter criticized him and called him a coward and a traitor to the tradition of the sea because he had not gone down with his ship. On the other hand, when the British destroyer HMS Kelly commanded by Captain Lord Lois Mountbatten was sunk in action on 23 May 1941, he survived and nobody criticized him for not going down with his ship. In the Falklands War, a total of seven warships were sunk but all their captains were rescued and lived to tell their stories.

In my opinion, it should be clarified that the captain of a ship, having made all possible arrangements to save his ship and the lives of his crew, must in the interest of the navy and his country save his own life so that he can fight again.

In the case of Captain MN Mulla, MVC, the good and courageous captain could have saved his own life. Even though the Khukri sank within minutes of being struck by a torpedo, he was on the bridge helping others to get off the ship. He could easily have saved his own life, as there was nothing more that he could do for his ship or crew. It is clear, in my opinion, that he did not do so because he knew that the majority of the ship’s crew was trapped in the lower decks and there was nothing he could do to save them. Having done

whatever he could, in the short time available, he preferred to go down with his men and his ship. This was an act of great courage, deserving of the highest award for gallantry in the field, which though deserving, was not given to him for reasons best known to the hierarchy of that time.

Trishul (Capt K.M.V. Nair, Vrc)

Endnotes

1

We Dared, p.100.

2

Transition to Triumph, p.126.

3

ibid., pp. 142-153.

4

Bubbles of Water, p.319.

5

A Nation and its Navy at War, pp. 178,179,180.

6

David Miller, Commanding Officers, p.199.

six

The Past and the Future

‘ The present is a product of the past and the future is the product of the present. – Mark Twain

’ Footprints of the past

Rear Admiral A Auditto has strong views on the lack of clear and coherent startegy on the use of Indian submarines in 1971 war. His views are reflected in the paragraphs that follow. The Indian submarine INS Kursura, deployed on the west coast of Pakistan between Karachi and Gwadar was tasked to intercept any Pakistani units (warships) venturing towards our ports and to also keep track of merchant ship traffic – mainly tankers carrying vital war supplies and fuel in an area which was virtually the ‘umbilical cord’ of the Pakistan Armed Forces.

The Indian Navy, however, placed severe restrictions on the submarines by insisting that the vessels be identified as Pakistani, which is only possible by boarding and verifying papers. I believe the policy was dictated by the concern that neutral ships might be sunk. However, the missile attack on Karachi did just that. So was there a contradiction in our thinking and in our conduct during the 1971 war between surface warfare and underwater warfare at sea? Or is it that we did not know enough about submarine warfare to hammer out a suitable strategy? Whatever it was, there have been many questions asked about our submarine strategy and performance during the 1971 war and there have been no suitable answers.

No submarine commander in his right senses would expose his submarine in enemy waters by surfacing in order to identify the origin and identity of the concerned vessel.

The correct strategy would have been to declare a war zone on the day of commencement of hostilities. The war zone should have been extended to 250 nautical miles from the Pakistani coastline. All neutral ships would thereafter be required to clear the area within forty-eight hours. After this our submarines would have been able to target all the warships or merchant ships at will. Either neutral ships would have cleared the area or else the sinking of the first merchant vessel/tanker would have put a stop to all merchant shipping traffic in that area.

Blueprint for the future

Prior to 1971, the Indian Navy was largely relegated to the background of security planning. During the 1971 war a disciplined, committed and dedicated navy led by a dynamic chief was able to prove its potential. It went on to win a spectacular victory at sea that rounded off the overall

comprehensive victory. The Indian Navy was able to cut off the Eastern and Western wings of Pakistan, blockade the coast of Bangladesh and attack the Pakistan Navy by a spectacular strike at Karachi, destroying Pakistani warships in the home base of the Pakistani fleet.

The show of force by the US Navy’s Seventh Fleet Task Force led by the nuclear powered aircraft carrier, the USS Enterprise, in the Bay of Bengal failed to overawe the Indian nation-state. Although this intervention could do nothing to alter the irrevocable outcomes on the battlefields of Bangladesh it did have a perceptible influence on the strategic thinking of Indian planners and highlighted the importance of the navy in our future strategic thinking.¹

The growth and expansion of the Indian Navy subsequent to the 1971 war was primarily triggered off by this intervention and the realization that this could be replicated in the future and probably in a more aggressive manner. The Indian Navy also realized that it needed to strengthen its capability in a manner that would greatly raise the cost of intervention to a point that would hurt even a superpower. The decision to parade the Enterprise would be rendered counter-productive if it implied the loss of the Enterprise itself.²

This raises the issue of the importance of submarines as valuable units in the overall inventory of a maritime power.

The evolution of a future strategy for the Indian Navy would, I am sure, have taken into consideration lessons of the 1971 war. In this, I am also sure that we would also have examined the reasons for our inability to use our submarines more aggressively during the 1971 war and taken remedial measures.

In my opinion, the evolution of a strategy for the Indian Navy must include an underwater strategy to make it comprehensive and meaningful. That will hopefully also emphasize the indigenous development and manufacture of submarines, which has for unacceptable reasons in the past failed to move forward. The reason for the hiccups in the past needs to be addressed fairly and squarely and bold steps taken to make the acquisition of arms more transparent so that all taints of bribes and corruption are removed. No doubt easier said than done, but something needs to be done soon so that the armed forces get the equipment that they need without unnecessary delays. If there is a problem then it must be addressed. There is a Polish saying – ‘If you don’t run after your problems then your problems will run after you!’

The politician, the bureaucrat and the armed forces must not only evolve a system that precludes pay-offs but should also, in the interest of the nation, evolve a policy that does not allow deals for good weapons to be scrapped because we are unable to deal with the taint of corruption. Of course, it is unarguable that the corrupt involved must be punished. Is that too difficult for a nation to do? If we cannot, we are confirming to the world at large that as a people we are corrupt and that we are unable to change.

It is unfortunate that India has allowed the vital capability to build submarines, acquired in the late 1980s, to simply wither away.

The Navy Chief, Admiral Arun Prakash, has gone on record to say, ‘… our western neighbour (Pakistan) has acquired the capability to manufacture the most modern (French Agosta-90B) submarines available today.’

Admiral Arun Prakash who is firmly pushing for indigenous capabilities described the continuing delay in the project to indigenously manufacture submarines as a ‘big dent’ in India’s national security matrix and that as far as the Indian Navy’s underwater fleet is concerned, the navy is making do

with only 16 ageing diesel-electric submarines at present. He desires that the government finalize on priority the $2 billion French Scorpene project, which involves construction of six submarines. He also says that once the project starts, which was ready in all aspects, we would be able to design and build our own submarines with minimal help from outside sources.³

The Indian Navy is doing its best to move forward in putting together a viable and strong underwater component for our maritime fleet. The safety of our seas depends on a strong and balanced maritime force of which the submarine is an essential component. We look forward to the day when the navy’s vision and plans are realized. The sooner the better.

INS Brahmaputra (Capt. JC Puri, (VRC, VSM) F18

Endnotes

1.

Aditya Chibber, National Security Doctrine – An Indian Imperative, p.17

2.

ibid, p.18.

3.

Indian Express – March 2006

Afterword Army and naval officers may wonder why an army officer has chosen to write about a naval ship and the war at sea in 1971. As a young boy I lived at Colaba, Bombay, with the sea on both sides of my house. Our home in Goa too was by the sea and at night we went to sleep with the sound of the waves crashing into our thoughts and dreams. The sea, therefore, has been part and parcel of my life. In Bombay harbour, sleek ships of the Indian Navy dotted the seascape and I longed to sail in one of them and to belong to this elite body of men. I was, however, dissuaded from joining the navy because of an eye injury and so I joined the army where the 5th Gorkha Rifles (Frontier Force) was my first choice.

Sometime after the 1971 war, when a new INS Khukri was commissioned, the Colonel Commandant of the 5th Gorkha Rifles (FF) Lieutenant General FN Bilimoria, who was also President of the Gorkha Brigade, was invited on board INS Khukri to initiate a lasting relationship between INS Khukri and the Gorkha Brigade. INS Khukri, therefore, is a ship with which officers and men of the Gorkha Brigade are closely bonded with. Similar relationships also exist between other regiments of the Indian Army and ships of the Indian Navy.

What is not well known, however, is that the present INS Khukri is the third in line of ships of the Indian Navy with the same name. Rear Admiral Satyendra Singh in his book Under Two Ensigns – The Indian Navy 1945-50 says, ‘HMIS Kukri, a River Class frigate was converted into a major survey ship and was commissioned on 31 October 1950 as INS Investigator.’ Major General HK Bakshi of the 5th Gorkha Rifles (FF) says that the association between the Gorkhas and the Khukri of the Indian Navy was initiated in 1950 at a function held at the Kotah House Naval Officers’ Mess when a khukri

was presented by the 5th Gorkha Rifles (FF) to the officers of HMIS Kukri, who in turn presented the regiment with their crest. The crest is dated 1950 and adorns the mantlepiece of the 58 Gorkha Training Centre Officers’ Mess at Shillong.

The khukri from which INS Khukri gets its name is a traditional weapon of the Gorkha soldier and all officers and men of the Gorkha Rifles carry this weapon on their person when they go into battle. In the 1971 Indo-Pak war, my battalion, the 4th Battalion of the 5th Gorkha Rifles (FF), used this weapon with deadly effect in silent night attacks in the Eastern Sector. Reports of these attacks showcased the prowess of the Gorkha soldier with his khukri and this reputation spread and preceded us wherever we went thereby facilitating the success of subsequent attacks. Memories of these attacks and the flash of the khukri accompanied by our war cries of ‘ Ayo Gorkhali! (the Gorkhas have come!)’ as we captured objective after objective still sets my hair on end. Going into attack is an exhilarating experience given to very few and the gamut of emotions that a man experiences range from fear to exhilaration and ultimately to relief at being alive at the end of it all. Being alive, however, is conditioned by the knowledge of others who have made the supreme sacrifice. From our battalion four officers were killed and seven wounded in a war of just thirteen days. War is savage and undesirable but becomes inevitable when a nation is forced to protect its interests.

During my interviews with the survivors of INS Khukri and in my conversations with others, what came shining through was the character and personality of the captain of the Khukri. Given the difficult task of locating and destroying the Pakistani submarine, PNS Hangor, he did not flinch and accepted the orders given to him unhesitatingly knowing full well the importance of his task and the inadequacy of his resources. His conduct and attitude replicates other heroic actions of the past where soldiers and sailors went unflinchingly into battle against superior odds like the mythical ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’. Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla was different from other men – a colossus as far as human character is concerned, a leader who practiced what he believed was right to his very last breath. When faced with

the choice of saving his own life he rejected the easy option because it was not part of his character to save his life when his men were trapped in the sinking ship. Personal acts of cold courage like this are rare to come by, and when they do, they shake the world by the immensity of its heroic content.

If the Indian Navy is to become a maritime force to reckon with, then the country needs to improve its capability in the indigenous manufacture of ships and weapons. As in the past, so also in the future, countries are unlikely to part with superior technologies in weaponry and, therefore, our own indigenous capability must necessarily improve. The recent fracas on the Barak missile system for the navy has lifted the curtain on the inability of the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) to design, manufacture and deliver weapons and weapon platforms on time for all three services. This unsatisfactory state of affairs has been going on for some years. Now that this issue is in the open it is hoped that an analysis and review on the competence and capability of the DRDO will be carried out and action taken to rectify matters. Commander Paul Raj who was once part of the DRDO is now an eminent professor at Stanford University, in the US. He is presently working on next generation wireless and GPS technologies. On my questioning him on the capability of the DRDO says, ‘DRDO (with a few exceptions) does not deliver. The reasons are well known, if not to us, then at least to our adversaries. The armed forces do not have adequate technology orientation (or interest) necessary to exercise real influence over defence technology development within the country. Nor have they shown the ability to challenge and reform DRDO and the defence production establishment. This has led to India turning outwards and relying on massive defence imports. Unfortunately this is not the solution, as many modern weapons can increasingly incorporate denial of technology use. This allows the efficacy of such weapons to be remote controlled by the supplier nations, and could even make them potentially worthless in time of war.’

The man in the street continues to know very little about the armed forces and their contribution to national security. When questioned, some vaguely remembered that we lost a warship in 1971; fewer remembered that the name

of this warship was INS Khukri and that its captain was Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla. Fewer still were aware of the contribution of the navy to the overall victory in 1971 and hardly anyone knew about the attack on Karachi. Memory fades and the 1947-48, 1962, 1965, and 1971 wars have long since passed into oblivion. What people remember is the Kargil war because it was beamed by TV channels into every Indian home. I, therefore, felt that it was time that the story of the Indian Navy’s victory at sea was retold. Maybe it is presumptuous on my part to think that it should be I who should do this but the story of the Khukri gave me the opportunity to share aspects of the war that I thought would be of interest to the reader and I felt that this was the right time to tell the story of ‘What Happened in 1971’. Last but not the least, the stories of the survivors had waited thirty-five years to be told. I felt they could not wait any longer.

Ian Cardozo

Annexure 1

Order of Battle – Pakistan Flotilla

Flag Officer Flag Ship 25 Destroyer Badr Squadron Khyber Shahjahan Alamgir Jahangir Frigates Tipu Sultan Tughril Zulfiqar Submarines Hangor Mangro Shushuk Ghazi Tanker Dacca 33 Minesweeper Muhafiz Squadron Mujahid, Moshal, Momin, Mukhtar, Mubarak, Mahmood, Munsif Gun Boats Sadaqat (Ex Saudi Arabia)

Rear Admiral MA Babur (Commodo

Captain RM Shei

Commander MN Commander ZU C Commander IA S Commander TK K

Commander SKM Under refit Commander SM H

Commander Tasn Lieutenant Comm Lieutenant Comm Commander Zafa Captain SQ Raza

Lieutenant Comm

Lieutenant A Qay

Rafaqat Salvage Tug Madadgar

Annexure 2

Order of Battle – Western Fleet 1971

Fleet Commander Flag Ship 15th Frigate Squadron Frigates INS Trishul INS Talwar

Rear Admiral EC Kuruvilla, PVSM INS Mysore (Captain RKS Gandhi, VrC) Captain KMV Nair, VrC Commander SS Kumar, VrC

14th Frigate Squadron

INS Khukri INS Kirpan INS Kuthar 31 Patrol Squadron Patrol Vessels INS Kiltan INS Katchal INS Kadmat Frigates INS Cauvery INS Kistna INS Tir Destroyer INS Ranjit Submarines INS Karanj INS Kursura

Captain MN Mulla, MVC Commander RR Sood, VrC, NM Commander UC Tripathi, NM Commander KP Gopal Rao, MVC, VSM Commander KN Zadu, VrC Commander S Jain, NM Commander IK Erry Commander RAJ Anderson Commander M Pratap Commander RN Singh Commander V Shekawat, VrC Commander A Auditto, NM

OSA Class Patrol Boats

25 K Squadron 251 K Division

Commander BB Yadav, MVC

Nashak Nipat Nirghat Nirbhik 252 K Division Vijeta Vinash Veer Vidyut

Lieutenant Commander RB Suri (Div K 251) Lieutenant Commander BN Kavina, VrC Lieutenant Commander J Sharma, AVSM, VrC Lieutenant Commander S Issac Commander AR Parti (Div K 252) Lieutenant Commander V Jerath, VrC Lieutenant Commander OP Mehta, VrC, NM Lieutenant Commander BB Singh

Annexure 3

Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s Speech to the Nation Pakistan tried to convince the world that the Indian Army was the first to start the war by launching air and land attacks between 3 and 4 p.m. on 3 December 1971 whereas it was Pakistan that attacked our airfields and border defences at 5.40 p.m. on that day. The fact that the prime minister, defence minister and the finance minister were all away from Delhi on that day, plus the fact that foreign reporters on the ground reported that it was Pakistan that attacked first, helped to kill the Pakistan lie.

Mrs Gandhi arrived at Delhi airport late on the night of 3 December 1971 from Calcutta. Important and urgent matters of state had to be attended to. A state of emergency had to be declared so as to get things moving at the desired speed to meet the war situation. At 11 p.m., the President of India, VV Giri signed the Proclamation of Emergency. The text of her speech that she delivered a little after midnight is given below:

I speak to you at a moment of great peril to our country and to our people. Some hours ago, soon after 5.39 p.m., on December 3, Pakistan launched a full-scale war against us. The Pakistan Air Force suddenly struck at our airfields in Amritsar, Pathankot, Srinagar, Avantipur, Uttarlai, Jodhpur,

Ambala and Agra. Their ground forces are shelling our defence positions in Sulaimanki, Khem Karan, Poonch and other sectors.

Since last March, we have borne the heaviest burden and withstood the greatest pressure, in a tremendous effort to urge the world to help in bringing about a peaceful solution and preventing the annihilation of an entire people, whose only crime was to vote for democracy. But the world ignored the basic causes and concerned itself only with certain repercussions.

The situation was bound to deteriorate and the courageous band of freedom fighters have been staking their all in defence of the values for which we also have struggled and which are basic to our way of life.

Today the war in Bangladesh has become a war on India. This has imposed upon me, my government and the people of India a great responsibility. We have no other option but to put our country on a war footing. Our brave officers and jawans are at their posts mobilized for the defence of the country. An Emergency has been declared for the whole of India. Every necessary step is being taken and we are prepared for all eventualities.

I have no doubt that it is the united will of our people that the wanton and unprovoked aggression should be decisively and finally repelled. In this resolve, the government is assured of the full and unflinching support of all political parties and every Indian citizen. We must be prepared for a long period of hardship and sacrifice.

We are a peace-loving people. But we know that peace cannot last if we do not guard our democracy and our way of life. So, today, we fight not merely for territorial integrity but also for the basic ideals which have given strength

to this country and on which alone we can progress to a better future.

Aggression must be met, and the people of India will meet it with fortitude and determination and with discipline and utmost unity.

Jai Hind!

Annexure 4

Captain Goes Down After Saving Shipmates (By a Staff Reporter)

The Times of India Report on the Sinking of INS Khukri

Eighteen officers and 176 sailors went down with the antisubmarine frigate, INS Khukri, as she sank in the Arabian Sea, torpedoed by enemy submarines, on the night of December 9. Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla (45), the skipper, stood by his ill-fated shipmates till the last moment and shared their destiny despite having the opportunity to save himself.

The story of the 45-year-old gallant commanding officer’s efforts to rescue as many as he could and then going down with his ship was told by eyewitnesses among the survivors now in Bombay.

Many of the younger, inexperienced sailors preferred the false security of the sturdy steel deck of the frigate below their feet to the unknown dangers

lurking in the bosom of the sea. The 183-cm-tall Captain Mulla himself pushed them into the sea, directing them to swim away. When one of them offered him a life jacket he said, “Go on, save yourselves, do not worry about me.” There was no confusion, no panic because the Captain’s calm had transmitted itself to his men.

As the survivors were swimming away to avoid being sucked in by the sinking ship, some of them looked back. The ship was sinking fast and the sea was closing over the bridge, the highest part of the ship’s super structure, from where the Captain assumes command. Captain Mulla was sitting in his chair on the bridge.

He had faithfully served to the very last, to the best of his ability, those who had served him so well. Six officers and 61 sailors who had survived will ever remember Captain Mulla’s stoic demeanor and calm in the face of adversity. The whole nation will cherish the memory of this hero.

The 1,200-tonne Khukri formed part of the Western Fleet Task Force, which was hunting enemy submarines in the Arabian Sea. She was hit by the torpedoes of an enemy submarine at intervals of a few seconds. As soon as Captain Mulla realized that the ship could not be saved, he gave orders to the frigate ship’s company to abandon ship.

Then he directed his second-in-command to cast lifeboats and buoys into the sea. In carrying out this vital task 33-year-old Lieutenant Commander Joginder Kumar Suri also went down with the ship.

Captain Mulla’s story is in the highest traditions. The captain of a ship is the last man to abandon ship when the ship sinks fast. As it often happens in war,

many men are trapped down below and go down with it. A large number of them will be still endeavouring to save the ship as it happened in the case of the Khukri.

"While the highest traditions of a Captain going down with his ship are fully appreciated, the Royal Navy cannot afford to lose experienced commanding officers. They are, therefore, to endeavour to save themselves so that they may live to fight another day ….” This was the British Admiralty Order during World War II. It might well be so, but Captain Mulla followed the traditions set for captains going down with the ship when all endeavours to save it proved futile. Captain Mulla was awarded the MVC (Mahavir Chakra) posthumously.

The sinking has evinced very keen discussion on the issues that such large casualities, resulting in loss of life of this nature, throw up. Was the Indian Navy’s damage control ability in doubt? Can two or three torpedoes of L-60 variety sink a ship like the Khukri specially built for anti-submarine warfare with British 170/174 sonar sets and Mortar MK 10? What speed was the ship doing? What after-accident search and rescue measures were taken to reduce loss of life? The discussion still goes on, but some factors are touched upon in this article along with some facets of human life.

The Khukri was well manned, worked up, and the second-in-command of the ship Lieutenant Commander J.K. Suri, 33, a bachelor, was in fact, a specialist communications officer. An excellent squash player, unfortunately he was a poor swimmer. He was on the bridge when the torpedoes hit. The story has it that because the ship lost power and went down in minutes, some men trying to get out of the ship in darkness from below deck ran into those like J.K. Suri going to fetch their life jackets. The Khukri had only two exits and over 100 men crowding these two exit ports must have caused panic and in the melee they would have got crushed whilst the ship went down. Yet the Captain helped each one he could see on the bridge to leave the ship.

Commander Oomen, the tough and plump Malayali Engineer Officer may have decided to go down to the Engine Room like so many other dedicated sailors who are trained, by instinct, to rush to their action post – and suffered a watery death. Lieutenant Suresh Kundanmall, a fine “Sword of Honour” officer is reported to have jumped over the side after coaxing his Captain to do so too, but could have well got sucked into the whirlpool caused by the sinking ship.

All this is reported by survivors like Lieutenant Manu Sharma, another fine officer who has since left the Navy and settled in the USA. He was extremely shaken when rescued back to Bombay, borrowing clothes and uniforms like all the others and cautioned not to talk to anyone. All such happenings leave scars on people and so it was for the rescued survivors of the Khukri. It was a shocked navy trying to cope with an unprecedented situation. Whilst surviving officers and men wanted to talk, take things off their chest, and seek reassurances from the rest of the navy that they had done their best, they were kept silent and awaited the inquiry that followed. After all, warfare at sea has proved that the submarine with its stealth is still superior and can only be killed after it has killed and shown herself.

The successful attack by a Pakistan navy submarine was possible because it is commonly known the INS Khukri was doing only 12 knots. Lieutenant V.K. Jain, a bright Electrical Officer, who had researched on an attachment to improve the sonar performance of the 170/174 set, was, unfortunately, testing his hardware on board. It is known that Captain Mulla did not favour this slow speed but he had to give in to this young officer’s request. One of those misfortunes combined with the fact that this class of ship did not have a strong shipside and thus succumbed to damage easily. It is also possible that the Pakistan Navy submarine had tracked the Khukri for sometime by keeping in company with some fishing craft, which were earlier in the vicinity. The officers and crew were possibly not at their best alert whilst concentrating on the news bulletin, even though the ship’s company was at defence stations. The crew were also not wearing life jackets continuously because even in World War II this practice was not followed.* INS Kirpan

(Commander R.R. Sood) was in company and that ship also did not gain any submarine contact. This then was the fate of INS Khukri. The hit caused the few on the upper deck to be thrown out into the sea. The ship’s Physical Training Instructor (PTI) held on to a piece of wood the whole night. Some took to life rafts, some lay in their life jackets awaiting rescue.

A major decision lay on the broad shoulders of the Captain of the INS Kirpan, Commander R.R. Sood (awarded the Vir Chakra and now Rear Admiral). Should he pick up survivors, hunt the submarine or clear the area? He decided to clear the area, signaled the happenings as a witness and requested the Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Western Naval Command, Bombay for help. In the operation that followed INS Kadmatt (Commander S. Jain, now Flag Officer Commanding-in Chief Western Naval Command) and Kirpan arrived at the scene the next morning and carried out rescue operations. A total of 6 officers and 61 men were rescued, whilst 18 officers and 176 sailors went down. A memorial was erected for them on the coast near Diu, and every time a thoughtful Captain sails past the position where the Khukri sank, a two-minute silence is observed in memory of those who went down. In 1972, a Khukri memorial hostel was built in Bombay to house the widows and fatherless children of the ill-fated ship. A few days later, the parents of Lieutenant V.K.Jain instituted the Jain memorial medal for excellence in innovation. Till another Khukri is commissioned, their memory lives on.

The reaction on the other ships in the fleet was naturally one of sadness. But it also acted as a warning. Anti-submarine warfare drills improved, torpedo evasion technique was practiced earnestly, life jackets and life raft release inspections and drills were exercised meticulously. Ships began to see themselves in a similar situation and attended to their damage control arrangements. It cannot be said that it was an expensive blessing in disguise, but it can be said this event certainly did make its point; the Indian Navy now realizing what submarine torpedo attacks are all about.

While the Pakistan Navy achieved a kill through the sinking of the Khukri, the three Indian Navy submarines of the F class deployed on offensive patrols failed to achieve any kills. The restrictions on submarines are many. They are banned by law to sink merchant ships. The London Naval Arms Limitation Treaty of 1930 declared that submarines “may not sink or render incapable of navigation a merchant vessel without having first placed passengers, crew and ships papers in place of safety”. The Indian Navy was in the same dilemma in 1971 and had restricted its submarines to firing only on enemy warships that were positively identified. Since the chance of being sunk itself by a warship if she exposed herself, were high, it amounted to prohibition in a larger sense and inhibiting the freedom of a submarine commander in war.

The period after the war was traumatic for the families of those reported missing. Lieutenant Suresh Kundanmall’s family got reports that many survivors had drifted away and that Suresh had been able to swim to safety after having given his life jacket to another. Astrologers too, assured the family that he was alive. Hope lived on for many. J.K. Suri’s brother at the Ashoka Hotel did not settle the family assets hoping his bachelor brother would return. Meanwhile, a polite message went out to all Captains at sea which ordered them not to emulate Captain Mulla’s traditional Captain-godown-with – his ship attitude; but to save the experience to fight another day.

A few weeks after the war some fine sailors from the Khukri joined INS Nilgiri, India’s first Leander, as part of rehabilitation of the crew. The captain of the Nilgiri Captain D.S.Paintal looked upon this act as a superstitious omen, but when assured that they were experienced shipwrecked sailors who could possibly be of help in educating the ship’s company of the new Nilgiri, they were welcomed on board warmly like so many others of that ill-fated ship. Incidentally, in the Falklands war, a total of seven warships were sunk, but all their Captains were rescued and live to tell their tale; once again showing off Admiral Nanda’s message to his fleet Captains as propitious. One day another Khukri will undoubtedly be commissioned so that we do not forget.

Annexure 5

The Khukri War Memorial The Khukri War Memorial is located at Diu on a small hillock facing the Arabian Sea. The memorial has a model of INS Khukri made to scale and is enclosed in a closed perspex house. The scale model is approximately 15-m long. Names of the crew have been inscribed on a marble plaque.

The memorial was inaugurated by Vice Admiral Madhvendra Singh on 15 December 1999 during his tenure as FOC-in-C Western Naval Command and visited by Vice Admiral Madanjit Singh, FOC-in-C Western Naval Command on 19 May 2005. Admiral Madanjit was a young officer on INS Kirpan at that time. The Kirpan was part of the same squadron as the Khukri and was sailing alongside when the Khukri was sunk.

A memorial service was held at the site on 26 October 2005, which was attended by Nawal Kishore Sharma, the then governor of Gujarat and by Rear Admiral IK Saluja Flag Officer Maharashtra area who came from Mumbai. INS Talwar, Taragiri and Nirghat anchored some distance from the shore. The site has a beautiful amphitheatre inwards into the sea where the naval band played during the function.

The memorial is well located and generally faces the area where the crew of INS Khukri fought valiantly thirty-five years ago and is a fitting tribute to

those who lost their lives at sea defending the nation.

Glossary of Naval and Military Terms

Watch Bells INS PNS Bow Stern Deck Galley Forecastle Bridge Sonar Conning tower Gangway Torpedo Wardroom Flotsam Port Starboard Funnel Magazine Propeller ‘Flags’ CNS FOC-in-C VCNS Piping aboard Sea dog Old salt Boat Painter Raft Depth charge

-

a period of time into which a day is divided aboard a ship and duri a stroke on a bell aboard a ship to mark the half-hour intervals Indian Naval Ship Pakistan Naval Ship the front part of a ship or boat the rear part of a ship or boat a platform extending horizontally from one side of a ship to the ot kitchen of a ship section of the upper deck of a ship located at the bow in front of th an area above the main deck of a ship from where she is controlled a system using transmitted and reflected acoustic waves to detect a raised enclosed observation post in a submarine also used as an en passage along either side of a ship’s upper deck a self-propelled underwater projectile launched from a ship, aircra the living and dining area for commissioned officers except the ca debris floating on the surface of the water the left hand side of a ship when facing forward the right hand side of a ship when facing forward smokestack or chimney of a ship a room on board a ship where ammunition is kept radiating blades mounted on a shaft that is driven by a machine wh ADC to a senior naval officer Chief of Naval Staff Flag Officer Commanding-in-Chief Vice Chief of Naval Staff to welcome a person on board ship by shrill music from a musical a sailor with long experience at sea a sailor with long experience at sea a small sea craft a rope used to tie up a boat a flat structure that floats on water an explosive device used by surface ships and helicopters to destro

War game Periscope Fish Boat Signal log Seaward Knot Hull

-

a military training exercise meant to train commanders and their s an optical instrument that permits the crew of a submarine to see a slang for torpedo naval term for a submarine signal message moving towards or lying in the direction of the sea a distance of one nautical mile the main body of a ship

Bibliography Transition to Triumph – History of the Indian Navy 1965 – 1975, Vice Admiral GM Hiranandani, PVSM, AVSM, VM, Director Personal Services, Naval Headquarters, New Delhi in association with Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1999.

Under Two Ensigns – The Indian Navy 1945-50, Rear Admiral Satyendra Singh, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 1986.

Blueprint to Bluewater – The Indian Navy 1951-65, Rear Admiral Satyendra Singh, Lancer, New Delhi, 1992

A Nation and its Navy at War, Commodore Ranjit Rai, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1987.

We Dared, Admiral SN Kohli, PVSM, AVSM, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1989.

War in the Indian Ocean, Vice Admiral Mihir K Roy, PVSM, AVSM, Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1995.

The Man Who Bombed Karachi, Admiral SN Nanda, Padma Vibushan, PVSM, AVSM, Harper Collins, New Delhi, 2004.

Story of the Pakistan Navy 1947 – 1972, History Section, Naval Headquarters Islamabad, 1991.

Bubbles of Water, PN Book Club, NES Directorate, NHQ, Islamabad, 2001.

Four Ocean Navy in the Nuclear Age, Thomas W McKnew, National Geographic Magazine, Volume 127, No. 2, February 1965.

National Security Doctrine – An Indian Imperative, Aditya Chibber, Lancer International, New Delhi 1990.

Prepare or Perish, General KV Krishna Rao, PVSM, Lancer Publishers, New Delhi, 1991.

Surrender at Dacca, Lieutenant General JFR Jacob, Manohar Publishers, New Delhi, 1997.

The Indian Army – A Brief History, Ed, Major General Ian Cardozo, AVSM, SM, Centre for Armed Forces Historical Research, United Service Institution of India, New Delhi, 2005.

Param Vir – Our Heroes in Battle, Major General Ian Cardozo, AVSM, SM, Roli Books, New Delhi, 2003.

Commanding Officers, David Miller, John Murray (Publishers) Ltd, London, 2001

My Years with the IAF, Air Chief Marshal PC Lal, Lancer International, New Delhi, 1987.

The White House Years, Henry Kissinger, Little Brown, Boston, 1979.

Liberation and Beyond, JN Dixit, Konark Publishers Pvt. Ltd. New Delhi.

In harm’s way: INS Khukri. (courtesy: Photo Section, DPR, MoD)

At ground zero: 14th Frigate Squadron comprised the Khukri, Kirpan and Kuthar. (courtesy: Collection of Maj Gen Chand Narain Das)

Fragments of war: Life buoys of INS Khukri recovered from the sea on 10 December 1971. (courtesy: IMS Vikrant)

The Chiefs of Staff with Defence Minister Jagjivan Ram during the 1971 war (left to right) Air Chief Marshal PC Lal (CAS), Admiral SM Nanda (CNS) and General Manekshaw (COAS).

Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral SM Nanda addresses officers and sailors just before the 1971 war.

Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Nanda with Prime Minister Indira Gandhi after the 1971 war (All pictures above and on the facing page are courtesy: Photo Section, DPR, MoD)

In the 1971 Indo-Pak war INS Vikrant was instrumental in the naval victory on the Eastern coast. Alize aircraft landing on INS Vikrant.

Sea Hawks taking off from INS Vikrant.

INS Mysore firing broadside from her triple barrel 6-inch guns.

Examples of grit and courage: Captain MN Mulla and Mrs Mulla. (courtesy: Collection of Ameeta Mulla Wattal)

Ultimate sacrifice: Captain MN Mulla chose to go down with the ship rather than abandon the crew trapped inside it.(courtesy: Lt Cdr SK Basu, NM)

Midshipman SN Singh: a Khukri survivor (courtesy: IMS Vikrant)

Indian submarine in the Arabian Sea (courtesy: Photo Section, DPR, MoD)

PNS Hangor, the Pakistani submarine that sank the Khukri. Inset: Commander Tasnim Ahmed, SJ and bar. (source: Story of the Pakistan Navy)

Chief of Naval Staff with the survivors of INS Khukri. (courtesy: IMS Vikrant)

Unsung heroes: Some of the officers and sailors of INS Khukri who made the supreme sacrifice. (courtesy: Naval History Division)

Power of human endurance: Survivors of INS Khukri. (courtesy: Lt Cdr SK Basu, NM)

Immortalized: Model of INS Khukri at the Khukri War Memorial, Diu. (courtesy: Wg Cdr TK Singha, VSM)

Crest presented to the 5th Gorkha Rifles (FF).(courtesy: 58 Gorkha Training Centre)

INS Khukri, the latest version. (courtesy: 58 Gorkha Training Centre)

Fiction, non-fiction, biographies, cookbooks, or coffee-table books – Roli has something for everyone. With our all-time best-selling titles from Men who killed Gandhi to Men of Steel; and from Dongri to Dubai to I too had a Dream, Roli's books have carved a niche in the world of publishing. For more information on our authors, best sellers, new and forthcoming titles, please visit www.rolibooks.com. You can also find us on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.