Between a rock and a hard place
Today, I chanced upon three news reports on the recent Maoist attack wiping out almost an entire CRPF patrol, killing 75 paramilitary men and a policeman in Chhattisgarh on April 6. It anguishes me, as it does every conscientious, patriotic Indian, that our paramilitary men became cannon fodder for the Maoists, who after mercilessly carrying out the carnage, walked away with the rifles, SLRs, bombs and other ammunition of the massacred paramilitary men. What’s even more shocking is that 48 of the 82 men of the ill-fated CRPF patrol had little idea of the area they had been patrolling for the one day and two nights before the morning of the attack. These men belonged to the Alpha Company of the CRPF transferred to the location only a week before the attack. Compare them with the rebels, who know the forests like the back of their hands because they were born there and probably have the backing of hundreds of thousands of tribal people. No wonder our jawans were sitting ducks for the Maoists who ambushed and attacked them from several directions, “On the hill on the left and on the hill on the right, on the trees, and behind us. Everywhere. Once the firing began, we had no chance”, says one of the three survivors of the attack.
Many in the CRPF believe such an ‘area domination exercise’ cannot possibly be carried out for three days without running a tremendously high risk. It was absurd to send only 80 odd men away from the camp in a forest densely infected by Maoists without risking an attack. “There should have been at least 500 men in that party,” says a CPRF constable. “The patrol was outnumbered by at least five to one.” Top that with the brazen public statement by the Maoists a few days after the attack, expressing ‘sympathy’ with the families of the 76 men they slaughtered and proposing to offer ‘compensation’. "All those who want monetary compensation from the rebels who killed the man of your house, your husband, your father, your brother, your son, raise your hands please!"
That the three survivors of the CRPF patrol were not provided any briefing by the CRPF planners on the Maoist warfare strategies is revolting. At best, these constables received orders routinely instructing them to “do nothing but go out and search”, and if need be, “shoot”. And when one comes to believe that things can’t go any worse, a glimpse of the hospital, where the wounded are being treated leaves us stunned and speechless. These ‘lucky’ survivors lie in crippling pain on dirty hospital linen stained from the dried blood of previous occupants. There are no doctors or nurses. Two constables have come on their own to watch over their injured mates. This is how we treat our soldiers in India.
Imagine lying injured with bullets riddled through your body, everywhere but in your guts, hanging on precariously to life, pretending to be dead in a mass of bodies of your colleagues, your friends, whom you called by their nicknames, keeping your eyes closed and your head down motionless even though the pain is excruciating, as you hear men, women and even children walk over the dead bodies collecting their weapons and ammunition to be used against your brothers in the future. It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? Hard to put ourselves in the bloody, shredded fatigues of those unfortunate men. Even if you have a vivid imagination, you’d probably experience only a tiny fraction of the ordeal the three survivors of the attack went through.
When asked what’s on his mind, one of the surviving constables worries over the Rs. 1.5 Lakh debt he owes for his daughter’s wedding four years ago, which his paltry salary of Rs. 18,000 has failed to pay off (Rs. 1.5 Lakhs – that’s probably the amount most of us earn in one or two months. Yet, what sacrifice have we made for our country?). Survivor no. 2 is worried about his father, a patient of cancer. He wonders if the compensation for nearly giving his life for his country will be enough to save his father’s life. The third constable, a young chap, yearns to return home to his new bride, whom he married only 23 days before leaving for Chhattisgarh.
So whose fault was it, the whole fiasco? Who made the decision? The government? Mr. Chidambaram? Or some high-ranking officer of the CRPF? Will there be an inquiry into what brought upon such an ill-judged decision to send a patrol of unprepared men to their deaths? Does anyone care? Does the government care? Do we care? Or are we satisfied with the high-sounding rhetoric resounding from the high pedestals of political powerhouses?
I think at the end it all boils down to one question – do we care?
Many in the CRPF believe such an ‘area domination exercise’ cannot possibly be carried out for three days without running a tremendously high risk. It was absurd to send only 80 odd men away from the camp in a forest densely infected by Maoists without risking an attack. “There should have been at least 500 men in that party,” says a CPRF constable. “The patrol was outnumbered by at least five to one.” Top that with the brazen public statement by the Maoists a few days after the attack, expressing ‘sympathy’ with the families of the 76 men they slaughtered and proposing to offer ‘compensation’. "All those who want monetary compensation from the rebels who killed the man of your house, your husband, your father, your brother, your son, raise your hands please!"
That the three survivors of the CRPF patrol were not provided any briefing by the CRPF planners on the Maoist warfare strategies is revolting. At best, these constables received orders routinely instructing them to “do nothing but go out and search”, and if need be, “shoot”. And when one comes to believe that things can’t go any worse, a glimpse of the hospital, where the wounded are being treated leaves us stunned and speechless. These ‘lucky’ survivors lie in crippling pain on dirty hospital linen stained from the dried blood of previous occupants. There are no doctors or nurses. Two constables have come on their own to watch over their injured mates. This is how we treat our soldiers in India.
Imagine lying injured with bullets riddled through your body, everywhere but in your guts, hanging on precariously to life, pretending to be dead in a mass of bodies of your colleagues, your friends, whom you called by their nicknames, keeping your eyes closed and your head down motionless even though the pain is excruciating, as you hear men, women and even children walk over the dead bodies collecting their weapons and ammunition to be used against your brothers in the future. It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? Hard to put ourselves in the bloody, shredded fatigues of those unfortunate men. Even if you have a vivid imagination, you’d probably experience only a tiny fraction of the ordeal the three survivors of the attack went through.
When asked what’s on his mind, one of the surviving constables worries over the Rs. 1.5 Lakh debt he owes for his daughter’s wedding four years ago, which his paltry salary of Rs. 18,000 has failed to pay off (Rs. 1.5 Lakhs – that’s probably the amount most of us earn in one or two months. Yet, what sacrifice have we made for our country?). Survivor no. 2 is worried about his father, a patient of cancer. He wonders if the compensation for nearly giving his life for his country will be enough to save his father’s life. The third constable, a young chap, yearns to return home to his new bride, whom he married only 23 days before leaving for Chhattisgarh.
So whose fault was it, the whole fiasco? Who made the decision? The government? Mr. Chidambaram? Or some high-ranking officer of the CRPF? Will there be an inquiry into what brought upon such an ill-judged decision to send a patrol of unprepared men to their deaths? Does anyone care? Does the government care? Do we care? Or are we satisfied with the high-sounding rhetoric resounding from the high pedestals of political powerhouses?
I think at the end it all boils down to one question – do we care?
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