Our Soldiers Speak

Stories of valour, hope, love and courage, tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

- Saima Khan

Rescue Mission

The sun was on the horizon and bone-chilling winds whistled through the valley. The year was 1966. My grandfather, Lt Inder Singh Chugh and his friend Lt Bhaag Singh were on the road, a few kilometres away from their post in Leh and Ladakh. Loud bursts of laughter filled the silent valley as they drove down the slopes—they were thrilled to be on their way home.

Suddenly incoherent wails echoing through the valley startled them. Getting off their vehicle, they warily walked towards the source of the cries. Looking over the edge of the hill track, they saw a crumpled jeep about 60 metres below. An unknown jawan was clinging to the edge of a sharp rock, holding on to it somehow, about eight metres below them.

Assuring him that he would be rescued, they quickly discussed their plan of action. Not having ropes or any other material that could help them in their mission, they decided to use their six-metre-long turbans—tying them together in a firm knot. Lt Singh hitched one end to the jeep, holding on to it tightly, and my grandfather fastened the other around his waist before climbing down to the terrified man. With his free arm, he grabbed him by his belt and yelled to his tall, well-built friend to pull them with all his might.

It turned out that the victim was a jawan from another regiment, who was on his way to receive his senior officer. Many things could have gone wrong that day, but fortunately everyone was safe in the end.

Heroes don’t always come in fancy costumes. Sometimes they can look like your Nanaji. ROOPDEEP KAUR, Amritsar

A Golden-Hearted Soldier