The Com(m)a that almost became a Full Stop
By Seikholen Thomsong
(How is a rookie Army Officer taken into the battalion that he has been assigned to serve in. The army has some fine and amusing traditions of giving a welcome to a newly commissioned officer arriving at his battalion. Here is an interesting and humorous anecdote of a simple young officer joining his battalion for the first time. )
My eyes beamed the day I passed out from the academy, as my mind anticipated the great things I was to achieve in the Army. Every officer who had just completed his basic training and earned his ‘shoulder titles’ feels there will never be an officer better trained than he in the whole of the army. Or that there will be no enemy that would have the courage to stand up to face such a well trained soldier-officer as he. After the leave of absence I was to report to my battalion.
A welcome at the Station
The unit, which was then in Punjab, was an eighteen hours journey by train from Delhi where I had spent my leave. I packed my bags and caught a night train coming from Pune. There was a welcome party waiting at the station when I alighted from the train the next day . Capt R, a lean mean Jat officer who was the brightest upcoming star of the battalion was there along with some soldiers. They had erected a makeshift shamiana that cordoned off the two chairs and a table placed on a coarse duree at one corner of the railway platform. We were protected from the prying eyes of the civilians roaming around the platform. It was thanks to an old army ingenuity of having to carry the shamiana along wherever you go. I never knew that it would form a part of most of the tasks I would be assigned to in later days in the unit- a party here and a Ladies’ Meet there for a youngster like me to organise. I clicked my heels, puffed my chest out and saluted the officer smartly. He returned my salute, looked at me then reached his hand out to me. I had to shake it very firmly. I followed his gaze to one of the chairs, took it that he was asking me to sit down and I settled down.
Some Pep-talk for the Rookie
He then began his well prepared talk on the history of the battalion, it's traditions, it's officers, it's glory and it's achievements. The battalion was raised as a state force of the Gwalior royalty, became a Kumaon battalion of the old British Army.It was turned into a mechanized unit in the late seventies when India acquired Infantry Combat Vehicles from its benefactor of the Cold War era- the Soviet Union. There were interesting tid-bits about the unit and its long and glorious history of more than a hundred years. It had many battle and theatre honors encrusted in gold in the annals of its history.
A Toast for each Glorious Era
(How is a rookie Army Officer taken into the battalion that he has been assigned to serve in. The army has some fine and amusing traditions of giving a welcome to a newly commissioned officer arriving at his battalion. Here is an interesting and humorous anecdote of a simple young officer joining his battalion for the first time. )
My eyes beamed the day I passed out from the academy, as my mind anticipated the great things I was to achieve in the Army. Every officer who had just completed his basic training and earned his ‘shoulder titles’ feels there will never be an officer better trained than he in the whole of the army. Or that there will be no enemy that would have the courage to stand up to face such a well trained soldier-officer as he. After the leave of absence I was to report to my battalion.
A welcome at the Station
The unit, which was then in Punjab, was an eighteen hours journey by train from Delhi where I had spent my leave. I packed my bags and caught a night train coming from Pune. There was a welcome party waiting at the station when I alighted from the train the next day . Capt R, a lean mean Jat officer who was the brightest upcoming star of the battalion was there along with some soldiers. They had erected a makeshift shamiana that cordoned off the two chairs and a table placed on a coarse duree at one corner of the railway platform. We were protected from the prying eyes of the civilians roaming around the platform. It was thanks to an old army ingenuity of having to carry the shamiana along wherever you go. I never knew that it would form a part of most of the tasks I would be assigned to in later days in the unit- a party here and a Ladies’ Meet there for a youngster like me to organise. I clicked my heels, puffed my chest out and saluted the officer smartly. He returned my salute, looked at me then reached his hand out to me. I had to shake it very firmly. I followed his gaze to one of the chairs, took it that he was asking me to sit down and I settled down.
Some Pep-talk for the Rookie
He then began his well prepared talk on the history of the battalion, it's traditions, it's officers, it's glory and it's achievements. The battalion was raised as a state force of the Gwalior royalty, became a Kumaon battalion of the old British Army.It was turned into a mechanized unit in the late seventies when India acquired Infantry Combat Vehicles from its benefactor of the Cold War era- the Soviet Union. There were interesting tid-bits about the unit and its long and glorious history of more than a hundred years. It had many battle and theatre honors encrusted in gold in the annals of its history.
A Toast for each Glorious Era
With the introductory speech being over he gave a sign to the soldiers standing nearby. They had actually been briefed beforehand as to what they were supposed to do or say. Amusingly, a new officer joining the unit has to drink a toast in giving respect to each glorious era that the unit has seen. God save the officer who joins a unit that has seen more than ten eras or stages of its growth! Ask me why and I would tell you. Two soldiers appeared with a bottle of rum and two borosil glasses and placed them neatly in front of us, saluted and retreated. Capt R poured the alcohol into the glass and filled it totally. He then asked me to empty it at one go. I passed out after three upturned glasses that were filled to the rim. The Old Monk bottle lay empty and discarded at one corner of the platform. Capt R was satisfied that the bedding-in had been a success. I did not have the heart to show "doubts"-in army parlance -to a senior on the first interaction. I realised you have to pay a heavy price for being a ‘Good-sport’. Mine was a week spent recuperating in an Intensive Care Unit. The lesson I learnt was that if you are too good a sport people take you for a fool.
I climbed into the jeep and went off to a slumber after blabbering something which I believe was an assurance given to my senior that I was doing just fine. On reaching the unit I was placed on a bed inside a platoon barrack where I was to spend the next few weeks interacting with the men in my platoon.
At the ICU
I had not stirred when evening fell. Lieutenant Colonel T, the second-in–command of the battalion was alarmed on seeing me so pale and lifeless. He took me to the intensive care unit of a nearby military hospital. The staff at the military hospital was shaken out of its minds. No officer dared to come to the hospital with his rank and name emblazoned across his chest to visit me. The doctors ensured that none of them escaped some verbal moralising. The poor regimental medical officer- a Capt Taps- was given a royal dressing down by one of the doctors as to how he could let such an incident occur.
Meanwhile the administration rushed into fire-fighting. The hilarity was not lost on me, I mean I was ragged in supposedly true traditions of the unit and made to gulp down so much ethyl alcohol. Fortunately, I avoided the death of an alcoholic, by the skin of my teeth. The doctors in the hospital brought me to life. My coma almost turned into a full stop. Well, that was the welcome party that took me into the folds of the Gallant Gwaliors as we were known to all and sundry. That was the beginning of my adventures in the army. The fun didn’t stop there and certainly there were more interesting incidents that followed later.
I climbed into the jeep and went off to a slumber after blabbering something which I believe was an assurance given to my senior that I was doing just fine. On reaching the unit I was placed on a bed inside a platoon barrack where I was to spend the next few weeks interacting with the men in my platoon.
At the ICU
I had not stirred when evening fell. Lieutenant Colonel T, the second-in–command of the battalion was alarmed on seeing me so pale and lifeless. He took me to the intensive care unit of a nearby military hospital. The staff at the military hospital was shaken out of its minds. No officer dared to come to the hospital with his rank and name emblazoned across his chest to visit me. The doctors ensured that none of them escaped some verbal moralising. The poor regimental medical officer- a Capt Taps- was given a royal dressing down by one of the doctors as to how he could let such an incident occur.
Meanwhile the administration rushed into fire-fighting. The hilarity was not lost on me, I mean I was ragged in supposedly true traditions of the unit and made to gulp down so much ethyl alcohol. Fortunately, I avoided the death of an alcoholic, by the skin of my teeth. The doctors in the hospital brought me to life. My coma almost turned into a full stop. Well, that was the welcome party that took me into the folds of the Gallant Gwaliors as we were known to all and sundry. That was the beginning of my adventures in the army. The fun didn’t stop there and certainly there were more interesting incidents that followed later.
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