Chapter 21: Trapped in the Jungle

It was the height of the rainy season when July rolled to August. Now, it was always either pouring or drizzling. One day in early August as we were patrolling near the Teliapara railway station, suddenly a thunderstorm started. Quickly, we took shelter under a nearby tree to protect ourselves from the gigantic raindrops that accompanied the thunderstorm. Unfortunately, the tree was neither large enough nor its foliage adequately dense to stop the invading raindrops.

Meanwhile, the thunderstorm intensified around us; the entire sky was alive with a thousand flashes; sound of terrifying lightning bolts kept us in constant awe and apprehension; we were mesmerized by the dreadful beauty of a thousand flashes all around us in a breathtaking way. The ground between the Teliapara teagarden and the railway station was mostly empty except for some bushes and minor trees like the one we were using as a shelter—with one exception; there was a huge tall tree (Shimul or silk-cotton tree) about a thousand yards from us and this was the largest tree in the vicinity. As we were witnessing the breathless magnificence of thousands of flashes all around us, suddenly, a massive thunderbolt hit the tree; an intense flash momentarily blinded us and immediately followed by a tremendously deafening explosion—like hundred artillery shells exploding simultaneously, and immediately the tree caught fire and started burning like a gigantic torch.  I had never seen anything like this and it is difficult to express the frighteningly wonderful experience in words.

During the middle of August it was again time to lay mines in theDhaka-Sylhet Highway near Satchari teagarden. We took the ‘friendly’ ravine, which by now had become a well-traveled route for us. Even though we had a number of encounters in this area, the Pakistanis appear not to have discovered the ravine—our secret highway through Satchari. It was probably not surprising because the ravine was well camouflaged by thick jungles and unless someone knew the exact location of the entrances, it was impossible to detect. Moreover, both sides of the ravine were protected by impassable thick undergrowth and, therefore, equally undetectable from the sides.

Shortly, we reached the metallic road. There was a small culvert close by which we had previously blown up when Teliapara was in our control. It now seemed that the enemy had repaired the culvert by laying some metal plates and then topping the plates with earth, creating an ideal spot for us to plant mines. Instead of three anti-tank mines, which was our usual number, we laid two because there was not enough room for three mines in the narrow culvert. After laying the mines, we laid in ambush for a few hours until it was dark but unfortunately nothing came our way that day. Disappointed, we left for our base.

The thick yellow line shows our “highway” through Satchari Teagarden. It was a nala is shown in yellow color (hilly creek) leading to the old Dhaka-Sylhet road (in blue color). The culvert is on the top left of the image.

We came back the next morning. Reaching the culvert, we found it was partly destroyed and to our joy—a three ton truck, completely burned–was lying on the ditch under the culvert. As the ditch was quite shallow, we could easily inspect the mutilated three-ton truck. The missing left rear wheel suggested that the mines exploded when the rear wheel fell on the mines and the powerful blast had flung the wheel somewhere in the jungle. Also, the metal plate which was used to repair the culvert had directed the full explosive force upwards, similar to the principle of a shaped charge. Considering that we had used only two mines, the resulting damage was impressive. The truck was completely destroyed. We found few blood stained shirts and helmets and a completely burnt Chinese 7.62 rifle without its wooded stock. However, we did not find any corpses probably because the Pakistanis might have removed the dead and injured during the night. We also did not hear the explosion from our camp and I reasoned that the thick vegetation of the jungle had absorbed most of the sound waves and did not allow it to carry a long distance.

We took the destroyed rifle and a few blood stained helmets as souvenir and headed for base.

A few days later, we again decided to lay mines on the same culvert. We followed the same route through the ravine and reached near the road. It was around 5:30 p.m. There were 21 persons in our group—all adequately armed with various automatics. Having reached the vicinity of the road, we decided to reconnoiter the area. Capt. Matin, a former Ansar Adjutant by the name of Sayedur Rahman, and I climbed up to the Dhaka-Sylhet metallic road—I distinctly remember it was near milestone 81. This area was familiar to us as we frequented this area on a regular basis. The culvert, our target, was located some 700 yards from Milestone 81.

The ravine was on the left side of the road while the right side contained steep hillocks covered with trees and various types of bushes. The space in between the hillocks was covered with thick impenetrable bushes and occasional patches of tall elephant grass. The road meandered through these two landscapes restricted visibility to about 150 yards. The three of us were carelessly walking toward the culvert, our weapons dangling from the shoulders. About halfway to the culvert, we found a Jam (Jambolan or Syzygium cumini Skeels) tree on the right side of the road; some broken branches were lying on the ground, some still with fruits in them. The tree was not very tall and some of the low branches, now full of ripe fruits, were within our reach. I plucked some of the berries, ate some and stuffed some in my ammunition pouch. The other two also did the same.

Though the sky was overcast from the beginning, now it started to drizzle very lightly; we resumed walking toward the culvert and soon reached a small patch of sand—actually it was a trail from the teagarden connecting the Dhaka-Sylhet road—a few boot impressions on the sand immediately caught our attention. Even more alarming was that the impressions were fresh—there was no trace of raindrops inside the footprints. All three of us were inspecting the footprints and reached the same conclusion but before we could speak, we heard footsteps and excited conversations approaching us from the direction of the culvert, which was about 200 yards from us, around a bend.

We all turned toward the intruders and noticed an enemy patrol was just becoming visible as it turned the corner, now about 150 yards from us—the enemies saw each other almost at the same time. We hurriedly crossed the road and the moment we started running toward our patrol in the ravine, the enemy started shooting at us. The bullets were flying all around us, some were flying over our heads, some were hitting the road, some hit the grass, some cut the grass at our feet with that peculiar “zip-zip” so well remembered by the soldier who has passed the ordeal of a battle. We kept running through the narrow road and somehow all the bullets missing us even at such a close range. The sun was already setting behind the hillocks and in the twilight we must have been a difficult target to an enemy who was also running. I wanted to turn back and shoot at the enemy, but the distance was too short for turning and there was no cover. On my left, I had a steep hill, which made climbing impossible; on the right was the ravine but the possibility of jumping on the ravine was blocked by trees and thick bushes. I kept close to the curve of the hill as the road snaked left and twice I got entangled with the undergrowth and fell down and this may have saved my life. The other two were just in front of me—all running toward the waiting patrol. The hill suddenly ended and I saw a patch of tall elephant grass on my left. Glancing back, I saw that the Pakistanis were just beyond the corner—acting on pure instinct, I jumped into the patch of elephant grass, turned back toward the road and hunkered down; only about 5 yards from the road; the tall elephant grass completely hid me from the road. I heard the Pakistanis pass by me still firing at the other two, who kept on running. I think that they suspected someone was nearby because they fired a few bursts from their automatics in the elephant grass but they could not have imagined that someone could be so close to the road. They also threw a hand grenade, which landed in the adjacent jungle about twenty feet from where I was, exploded, but none of the splinters touched me. I remained motionless where I sat; I could hear the Pakistani soldiers a few feet from me, excitedly arguing the whereabouts of the fugitives.

Encounter location: The culvert is on the top left of the image. On the right you can see the location of the Pakistani patrol and a little distance on the right our location. The location of our waiting patrol is on the bottom right of the image.

The Pakistanis loitered around the road, talking excitedly and sometimes taking potshots at the jungle. After about an hour, I did not hear them anymore. I kept sitting inside the patch of elephant grass. After sometime, silently, I laid down in the grass, the SMG by my side. Various thoughts ran through my mind; I was sure that Capt. Matin and the Adjutant had safely joined our waiting patrol. I was wondering what they were doing: were they waiting for me? Meanwhile, I also faced a minor crisis: A hoard of menacing mosquitoes soon started flying over my head and I became apprehensive that the dark column they had formed over me may reveal my position to the enemy. In the stillness of the night, various scattered thoughts started invading me. I was thinking about my brothers and sisters in Dhaka—what were they doing now? The images of my mother and brother living in Dinajpur raced through my mind. The memory of some of my friends in Dhaka and Dinajpur flashed through. In spite of my efforts to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures, and friends, and home were overwhelming me, causing me at intervals to break into wild paroxysms of anguish. I was also thinking of how to get out of this mess. I could not risk getting out of the elephant grass at night because I had no idea where the Pakistanis were. They could have been waiting somewhere nearby. Moreover, in the darkness our own people might have shot me by mistake. The moon came out and I could see the silvery moon-rays over the dark jungle, creating a kind of mysterious ambiance with light and shadows. Various apprehensions kept popping up from time to time and I tried my best to control my apprehensions. I remained in this condition for about two hours and then gradually the exhaustion of the day made me surrender to the blissful embrace of slumber.

I woke up before daybreak and cautiously peered through the grass. It was about pre-dawn and from my position, only five yards from the road, I could clearly see the road just in front of me. Suddenly, I noticed a Pakistani soldier standing silently by the side of the road. I kept looking at him from my hidden position. He was in khakis and I could clearly discern his helmet. He kept standing there without the slightest of movements—as though he were a statue. The light was getting brighter, but still the enemy did not move an inch! As the light intensified, suddenly it dawned on me that it was not an enemy soldier—it was a sapling planted by the side of the road inside a round and tall bamboo enclosure. What I mistook for a helmet was the top part of the sapling that had curved into the shape of a helmet as it protruded from the top of the enclosure.

I cautiously came out to the road, carefully surveying both ends of the winding road—nothing, not a sound or trace of anything living other than the morning birds. Keeping by the side of the road, I headed toward the mouth of the ravine, where our patrol was stationed the previous night. As I climbed down from the road, I did not find anybody. Besides many scattered footprints on the sandy floor, there was not a trace of anybody and it appeared that everybody had returned to base. I assumed both Capt. Matin and the Adjutant had safely reached the waiting patrol, had waited for me for a while, and left without finding me. I was feeling a little heroic considering that I was the only person in the patrol that went missing and expecting that everybody in the camp was eagerly waiting for my return. I put the SMG in semi auto mode and proceeded toward the other mouth of the ravine at the Satchari end.   The ravine was not straight but snaked through the jungle and in most places visibility was limited to about 50 yards. As I turned a sharp bend, suddenly I was face to face with a wild boar. It had three cubs. I knew the reputation of the wild boars, particularly with a litter. I kept looking at her; not moving a muscle, while she made some grunting noise of displeasure. Maybe she sensed that I did not pose a threat to her litter; she slowly turned and fled, the litter trailing her. I heaved a sigh of relief because I did not want to shoot and attract the enemy into the ravine. Moreover, I was not sure if I could have stopped a fully grown boar in such a close range had she decided to charge me.

Soon, I reached the end of the ravine and came out to the jungle. I squatted on the ground and tried to listen for any sounds—nothing; everything was quite except for the tweeting and flapping of the busy morning birds. The reader will remember this place as we had encountered the Pakistanis in a previous occasion. Naturally, I had to be very careful. Next, I cautiously reconnoitered the environs of the teagarden for any movements—again nothing. Very slowly and cautiously, protecting my body behind trees and bushes I entered the teagarden. Fortunately, no bullets came to greet me. Gaining in confidence that the Pakistanis were not in the garden, I headed for the stream.

As soon as I crossed the steam, I saw one of our patrols standing some distance by the bank. I was delighted to see them and assumed that they were looking for me; now beaming and with renewed vigor, I proceeded to be received and be greeted.

All my strengths sapped when a very worried Subeder Mujib inquired about the whereabouts of Captain Sahib and Adjutant Sahib. What! Were they not here? Did they not join the waiting patrol at the ravine? As they had been running in front of me, I had assumed that they had joined the waiting patrol. Now it seems that all my assumptions were wrong. How can it be? Where did they go? I did not see them when I came through the ravine. What could have happened to them? I was now feeling completely dejected, a kind of languor descending over me. I immediately volunteered to enter the jungle and search for them. The Subedar dissuaded me. He asked me to return to the base and take rest. He assured me that a permanent patrol will be posted at Satchari for their return.

I returned to the camp and discovered that my entire body was covered with leeches and my garments were all soaked in blood. I removed the leeches from various parts of the body; burned a piece of cotton rag and applied the cotton ashes over the bleeding bite marks. After cleaning and changing my clothes, I was restless and at times, I was blaming myself for not looking for them in the morning. Soon I joined the patrol that was leaving to relieve the other patrol that was already at Satchari.

Entering the teagarden we found our patrol sitting under a large tree. I wanted to take the patrol to go through the ravine to the Dhaka-Sylhet Highway, but Subedar Mannan was not willing to do so. We took position at the mouth of the ravine.

We waited with anxiety and trepidation, expecting them to emerge from the jungle at any moment. But alas, nothing happened—there was no sign of the captain or the adjutant.

The second day was almost going to be similar until around 4:00 pm., when we saw the Ansar Adjutant emerge through the mouth of the ravine. He was completely exhausted and collapsed on the ground immediately after he saw us. He was gasping and panting with exhaustion.  We offered him some water, which he gulped down. After sometime, as his panting subsided and after gaining enough strength to speak, he told us that he and Capt. Matin was separated a short time after they entered the jungle from the road and did not see each other since. He was clueless about the whereabouts of Capt. Matin. Until now, he also thought that he himself was the only person missing.

Everybody was asking him questions, “Where have you been?” “What happened?” “Why are you panting?” “Where is Capt. Matin?”

He narrated that after entering the jungle, briefly Capt. Matin and he were together. They thought that I had been hit by enemy bullets and had fallen down. Both were asking the other about me. Capt. Matin had started cautiously calling out my name but there was no response from the dark jungle. Suddenly, Capt. Matin thought that he saw a human outline—some human movement–some distance in the jungle and thought it was I. Capt. Matin asked the Ansar Adjutant and he seemed to concur with him—yes, he also saw a human outline. They started searching for me in the jungle and in the process they were soon separated from each other in the darkness.

After separating from Capt. Matin; Sayedur Rahman, the Ansar Adjutant, had lost all sense of directions and wandered around in the dark jungle the whole night. He had nothing to eat for two days; water was also scanty in the jungle. His whole body was covered with hundreds of leeches; his clothing, now crimson from the dried blood sipped from the leech-bites; his legs cut in various places by thorns and other sharp objects of the jungle. After sometime, when he felt a little better, we carried him back to the camp in a stretcher.

By now, we were getting extremely worried for Capt. Matin. Some of our religiously oriented comrades had already pledged various sacrifices to ensure the safe return of the .Captain The entire camp was morose; nobody laughed or even talked loudly. Apprehension about Capt. Matin’s fate lingered and made the camp’s air heavy with somberness.

When we were about to give up all hope of the captain’s safe return, when everything seemed lost, on the late afternoon on the fourth day, Capt. Matin finally emerged through the ravine. Everybody became ecstatic; everybody was excitedly shouting and laughing; everybody wanted to touch him; have a glimpse of him. He condition was  worse than that of the Adjutant’s. He had a deep gash in his right foot; blood was still dripping from it. All the limbs had various degrees of laceration, some deep cuts and many scratches. His canvas shoes were in tatters and blood was sipping from the wounds. He was so exhausted that the moment he saw us, he collapsed into the ground, unable even to speak properly.

As he was in no condition to walk, somebody managed a bed (khatia) from the coolies and we carried him to our camp in the bed.

It took him full two days to recover enough to describe his part of the incident and we came to know what had happened to him.

We had started running as the Pakistanis started shooting at us, led by the Adjutant and followed by Capt. Matin and I, in that order. He noticed that I was suddenly no longer with them and assumed that I was hit by a bullet and fell down. After crossing the elephant grass–where I had taken shelter—the Adjutant found a forest and had dashed inside it for cover, and the captain followed him.

Soon, however, they got separated in the darkness and completely lost any sense of direction in trying to search for each other in the dark jungle. Thinking that he was heading for the Dhaka-Sylhet road, Capt. Matin had penetrated deep into the forest and spent the entire night wandering in the forest. In the morning he found his way to a teagarden; however, he had no idea which garden it was. He aimlessly moved around the garden trying to find a way out. Later he found an abandoned collie colony and took shelter in one of the huts there for the night. He woke up hungry the next morning and after some desperate search for food, only managed to find a few ripe guavas in the abandoned trees of the collie colony. Having eaten the guavas, he left the coolie colony and entered the teagarden. To obtain a better view of the surrounding areas, he took position on top of a hillock. He was trying to find someone who could direct him to the Bangladesh-India border. The teagarden was deserted and nobody was in sight. Suddenly, he saw a Pakistani patrol of ten soldiers about 400 meters from his location, heading away from him. He followed them from a distance and found that the Pakistanis had a camp on top of a hill. He took position in a nearby hillock overlooking the Pakistanis; there was a road on one side and a 3-feet deep rainwater drain on the other side of the hillock.

In the hillock occupied by the Pakistanis, he could see a baldheaded person taking a bath seated on a wooden stool. Another person was using a huge mug to scoop water from a bucket of water and was pouring it over the baldhead’s body.

Capt. Matin was desperately hoping to find a civilian to inquire the whereabouts of his location. He had no idea where he was. Unfortunately, no civilian was in sight. After waiting for a few hours, he decided to try his luck elsewhere. By now, he was very hungry as he had nothing to eat but the few guavas in the morning.

When he was preparing to leave, he saw a Pakistani patrol—this time coming toward him–from the enemy base, offering an excellent opportunity for an ambush. He position under a shade tree on top of the hillock offered an ideal location to shoot at anybody in the road, which was about 100 meters below the hillock.

The carefree manner by which the enemy patrol was marching suggested that they were not expecting any trouble; most carried the weapons shouldered. They had two LMGs, two SMGs and Chinese rifles. The group was lead by, probably by an NCO carrying a Chinese SMG. As the patrol came in front of the hillock, using the tree both as a cover and as a support for the SMG, he fired a full magazine at the enemy. And as soon as his magazine emptied, he ran down the hillock to the rainwater drain and started running. The unexpected attack had taken the Pakistanis by complete surprise. Bewildered by the attack, the enemy could not fire a single shot until he had started running for the drain. When Capt. Matin heard the sound of enemy’s shooting, he was beyond the enemy’s reach. After sometime, he left the drain and continued wandering aimlessly in the teagarden. At length, the teagarden ended and gave way to some paddy fields. As it was getting dark, he took shelter under a large tree outside the garden and spent the night there. The next morning, desperate to find some food, he ventured by the side of the paddy fields until he spotted a tin-roofed house—an isolated house at a corner of the desolate paddy field with no other houses in the vicinity. He went inside the house and found a middle-aged person attired in a lungi, vest, and a cap. His sub machine gun ready, he told him that he was a member of the Mukti Bahini and requested some food. There was another occupant of the house—a woman—probably the man’s wife. Both of them were very obsequious and immediately caught a chicken, many of which were loitering around the house. Soon, rice and chicken curry were cooked under the watchful eye of the ravenous captain and soon the food was presented to him. Capt. Matin was so hungry that he not only gulped down the food but also failed to notice that the man was no longer around him. It’s only after he had finished his meal with a generous drink of water that he suddenly discovered that the man was nowhere to be seen.around. It seemed the man had fled while he was eating. Alarmed and suspecting foul play, the Captain immediately left the house and hid himself behind a large tree some distance from the house. After about half an hour he saw a group of about 10-12 persons, a few of them in black uniforms and others in khakis, were cautiously approaching the house. He had no doubts that he was betrayed–the man that had fed him also informed the Pakistanis. Capt. Matin was furious at the treachery; angry and determined to teach them a lesson. He allowed them to come within 100 meters and then, from the cover of the tree, unleashed a savage salvo at the enemy. The enemy, who had no cover in the open road. After firing a few bursts, he swiftly ran for the safety of the teagarden, from where he had emerged the previous night. Exhausted by the desperate dash, wilted by inadequate sleep the previous night, and somnolent from a heavy meal, he was now feeling extremely fatigued. Inside the teagarden he selected an isolated tall tree surrounded by bushes and sat under its shade to rest and soon his exhaustion made him surrender to sleep. He woke up when the sun was about to set.

When it grew dark Capt. Matin decided that the teagarden was not a safe place to sleep at night as the garden was infested with deadly snakes and various other nocturnal animals, which ruled the teagarden at night. He decided to sleep outside the teagarden—the same spot where he had taken shelter the previous night.

As he was trying to leave the teagarden, he again lost his directions in the darkness. He continued waking the snaking paths between the hills and after a few hours, again exhausted, he sat down on the road to rest. After sometime, he resumed his nocturnal wandering in the foreboding teagarden. Two of his magazines were already empty and now he was left with only two 30-rounds magazines. He did not dare shoot at anything in fear of attracting enemy’s attention, particularly when he did not even know where he was and whether the enemy was waiting just around the bend. If you wanted to sleep in a jungle in Sylhet, you better find a clearing with sand underneath. Because if you sleep in the vegetation, particularly on grass, a thousand bloodthirsty leeches will soon descend on you and suck you dry without you being aware of it. Capt. Matin found a sandy patch between two hillocks and his exhaustion soon led him to blissful slumber. Anxiety of the unknown made him wake up many times during the night and finally just before daybreak he again started moving. He took position in a nearby hillock, under a tea bush, and kept waiting for someone to arrive. After 2-3 hours, he saw a person dressed in trousers, shirt, and sandals approach the hillock. Very cautiously, using the tea bushes as cover, he approached and grabbed the man—who was completely surprised by being suddenly snatched by a stranger brandishing a menacing SMG. The person appeared quite harmless, but the Captain had learned his lessons. He asked him the name of the teagarden and was told that it was Lalchand teagarden.

When asked, the man told him that his name was Murshed and he was from Chadpur. He also informed Capt. Matin that he was a relative of Khandaker Mushtaq Ahmed, a senior leader of the Bangladesh Government in exile.

Capt. Matin asked him to take him to the border. Murshed hesitated a moment before responding and then inquired if Capt. Matin would like something to eat first. He obviously looked very hungry. Capt. Matin, however, could not completely trust Murshed—a stranger to him and someone who was still working in a teagarden. Murshed suggested that Capt. Matin should eat something to regain his strength and then he would lead him to the Bangladesh-India border. Capt. Matin was hesitating but finally his hunger won over his suspicion. He pointed to the hillock he had descended from and told Murshed that he will be on that hillock waiting for Murshed to come back with some food. Soon Murshed left to fetch some food from his house, which was nearby. Murshed was a junior officer in the teagarden.

Capt. Matin; however, did not take position in the indicated hillock, instead he took position on the hillock immediately opposite the indicated one and waited cautiously for Murshed’s return; ready to dart at any sign of treachery.

After ten minutes he saw Murshed coming back carrying a small jute bag. He approached the hillock where Capt. Matin was supposed to be and started cautiously calling, “Bhai, Bhai, where are you?” The Captain waited for a while, then descended from the hillock; Murshed was surprised to see him come from an unexpected direction.

Murshed had with him some homemade country cakes, which appeared delicious to the famished Captain. Soon he finished eating the meager but welcome food.

After the captain had finished eating the food, Murshed led him through the teagarden and forest to the Dhaka-Sylhet road. Murshed went back to his teagarden and Capt. Matin never met him since. He is ever grateful to the kind person who helped him to come out to safety.

In took about a week before Capt. Matin’s wounds healed adequately and he regained his strength.

Meanwhile, a cow and a goat were sacrificed and we had a feast to celebrate his safe return—quite lavish in those days.