MY bed was being wheeled to the Operation Theatre. As I was about to be ushered in, a nurse asked, “are you retired?” “Yes”. “What were you doing before?” “I was a soldier” and before I could clarify, in the Pakistan Army, the nurse said, “Thank you sir”, believing that I was a US Army soldier. Instantaneously her companion followed, “Thank you very much sir for your service”. Next, for a fleeting few seconds the young beautiful face of my anesthetist was the only thing I saw before the lights were no more.
Once I watched a magic show. A young African-American entered. The host escorted him to the centre of the stage. How long have you been in this profession? Seven years he answered. What were you doing before? I was a marine (American Commando). She held his hand and turned towards the audience. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, he was a marine’. The huge auditorium, filled to capacity, was on its feet. They cheered and cheered without stopping. My eyes welled up. Acute nostalgia overwhelmed me.
Almost four proud decades in uniform and twenty years after retirement, all of us still relish the Nation’s response to the thundering President, supposedly the usurper Ayub Khan, “Countrymen we are at war”. It was 1965. The Indian Army had stealthily entered Pakistan without formally ‘Declaring War’, a tradition of the brave. The Pakistan Army rushed to occupy its defences.
As the Army raced towards the borders the people came out in force, a tremendous cheer, shouting ‘God is the greatest’. If they happened to touch a jeep, a tank or a gun, they kissed that hand, touched their eyes with it. If we paused for a while, they threw everything they had brought with them in our open vehicles, eatables of all sorts, cookies and homemade traditional sweets the mothers all over Pakistan cook and the sons love. The slogans carried all, prayers, motivation and exhortations to smash the invading enemy to a pulp.
In 1971, two scheming politicians had led a credulous general up the jungle path. Pakistan was bifurcated. The people were in total shock. Dacca surrendered, followed by two longest years of our lives in the Indian prisoners’ camps. Nobody ridiculed the Army except for a brief spell of Bhutto’s hate spewing, the arrogant feudal lord. The Nation believed the fact that we had given more than our best.
Zia’s evil could not significantly undermine the Army’s prestige. The media had been successfully gagged. In the absence of social media, the people never got wind of Zia’s black deeds. Musharraf’s political naivety, unbridled ambition and incessant impetuosity considerably degraded armed forces’ standing in the nation. We saw for the first time the soldiers hesitant to appear in uniform in public places. It was a shameful comedown. It was still only a temporary phase. Raheel Sharif’s dignified demeanour had won him the honour of being the most popular personality in the country. As the nation stood firmly behind him, the sleazy politicians had no option but to support the Army chief’s resolve to root out terrorism from the country. It amused me to hear Modi plead with his nation to respect the Indian soldiers like the Americans who on seeing their soldiers always gave them a standing ovation. To the Pakistanis it came as a genetic urge to cheer their soldiers destined to be either Ghazis (Victors) or Shaheeds.
In the 1971 War, Indian generals were genuinely impressed with the exceptional valour of Pakistani officers and men fighting and embracing martyrdom on the battlefield. One general officer commanding flew in a chopper to just see major Bahadur Ali Shah who had walked through a minefield knowing it to be such without leaving a single casualty behind. As a mark of respect, the general had carried the major’s belongings left in his bunker. One could recount innumerable instances that would make the nation proud of its soldiers fighting a losing battle in the erstwhile Eastern Wing. The soldiers received and the nation gave them the love they deserved.
But 9 May came as a bolt from the blue, the darkest day in the history of civil-military relations. With Bajwa’s egocentricity the Army had already hit the nadir of public acceptability. The retirees were left askance at the open admission of their Army chief to be seriously meddling in the governmental affairs and his self-assumed role of king making. Still, May 9 was unimaginable, disgraceful and totally unacceptable. The oldies like me were shell-shocked. The isolated incidents of insult and despise had caused a complete moral break-down. The matter did not end there. That fateful day has left a plethora of ambiguities, mysteries and misgivings behind. The Military may not be able to share the entire truth with the media. But it is our duty to remove all the perplexities, dispel prevailing doubts and ominous misperceptions.
The mainstream media is tactless, rash and myopic. Social media stinks. Prematurely retired disgruntled young officers are having a field day giving vent to their disappointments and sense of deprivation in career at the cost of the Military they never learnt to love and own. Genuine thinkers, few and far between offer balanced critique but are unfortunately bundled with those on social media who speak the unmentionable language of the street to unload their filth against the Military. The mediocracy of the caretakers adds to the price we have to pay. Fading dreams, dwindling hopes, one tempest after another, indeterminate course, hazy destination and conflicting emotions verged on panic, sweet memories of the past experiences and deep gloom on the outrageousness of the scorning ground realities, the dilemma continues to creeps into human conscience. The all-pervasive mischief remains a perpetual ill omen. Let ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men’ join hands to put Humpty Dumpty together again. We owe it to the nation and especially owe it to our great institution.
— The writer, a retired Maj Gen, is a Rawalpindi-based freelance columnist and author of book, “Pakistan in search of a Mesiah.
Email: askarirazamalik@gmail.com
views expressed are writer’s own.
