Chapter 25: The Battle of Akhaura

Maj. Matin was spending more and more time in meetings at the Sector Headquarters. It seemed that various planning  activities were underway. The frequency of visits by Indian army officers increased in our camp. Also, Each time I visited the Sector Headquarters, I saw a few Indian Army officers there too. During one of these visits to the Sector HQ I was introduced to Lt. Col. Ashoke Verma, Commanding Officer of 18 Rajput Rifles.

During the month, in addition to the regular patrols, we also conducted a mortar raids on Teliapara.  Mortar raids, by now, had become as common as the patrols. It was no longer something to be excited about.

We continued to receive information on various successful attacks on the Pakistani Army. It seemed that the days of the Pakistanis were rapidly nearing an end. I could feel that something was imminent—not exactly knowing what it was. The joint operations with the Indian Army were becoming frequent. In most cases, the Indian artillery was helping the Mukti Bahini in providing indirect fire support. In some cases, the Indian Army even conducted operations without direct involvement of the Mukti Bahini. By the first week of November 1971, the Indian Eastern Command had decided to permit Indian troops to conduct operations up to 10 miles (16 kilometers) inside Bangladesh territory.

On 27/28 October, the 1^st East Bengal Regiment launched an attack on Dhalai but the 1^st Bengal attack was repulsed by the Pakistanis. When the 1^stBengal attack failed, Indian 2 Jat Regiment was ordered by Indian high command to attack Dhalai the same day. The attack was actually made the following day. Half-way, due to difficulties of terrain, the attack was aborted. Later 2 Jat and 7 Rajput Rifles (two battalions) attacked Dhalai and finally captured it on 1 November 1971. The Indians had suffered catastrophic causalities in this operation—44 dead and 89 injured.

On 20/21 November, 4/5 Gurkha Regiment successfully captured Atgram complex, one of the key Pakistani defensive positions in Sylhet.

Finally, on 29 November we came to know that the following day we will be heading for operation—I had no idea about the nature of the forthcoming mission. The entire company will take part in the attack.

The next day, on 30 November, around 9 p.m. we started for our destination in a convoy. Some Indian army Lorries were made available to us for this purpose.

About two hours later, we reached a spot, got down from the Lorries, and entered a wooded area. We were told that we are very close to the Pakistani defenses and therefore must remain absolutely silent. With our digging tools we dug trenches facing what appeared to be a ditch. As I was digging a trench with other members of our group, someone informed me that the ditch in front of us was an anti-tank ditch and that the Pakistani positions were just on the other side of it. It took us about two hours to dig our trench and take position. The gibbous moon was casting its eerie light over the landscape, rendering the entire vicinity in a kind of translucent light and haze. I could only see the small part of the ditch in front of our position but everything beyond the ditch remained a jumbled mixture of void. Our hearts pounding in apprehension, we kept sitting silently in our trenches, without knowing what to expect next. I felt the urge to smoke but smoking was strictly forbidden.

It shows the forces arrayed in the battlefield. The attack on 30 November was made by 18 Rajpur Rifles, 10 Bihar, and 4 Guards. The yellow line represents the Bangladesh-India border.

Maj. Matin was inspecting our defenses and came to our trench. He kept looking at his watch. Finally, he told me that an Indian formation would soon start an attack on Akhaura.

The calendar rolled from 30 November to December 01 and around 1:00 a.m. suddenly, without any warning, shattering the absolute stillness of the night the thunderous boom of many artillery guns engulfed the entire battlefield. I had never heard so many artillery guns firing simultaneously—the roar of the guns was stupendous. Many of the shells were flying over our heads creating the typical “whooose” noise of sub-sonic artillery shells. I later came to know that entire divisional artillery (about 72 guns of various calibers) was firing on the defenses of Akhaura. The intensive artillery barrage continued for about half an hour and then stopped.

As the Indian artillery barrage stopped, it appeared that the hell broke loose as the Indian 10 Bihar regiment attacked Akhaura. The Pakistanis now unleashed a vicious artillery attack on the Bihar regiment. Soon, the entire battlefield erupted in various types of small arms fire—Machine Guns, mortars, grenades, rifles, rockets, etc. The Pakistanis in front of us opened fire on our position. Though we could not see any enemy behind hardened cover, we also started firing with everything we had. Bihar regiment could penetrate up to three miles through the southern end of Akhaura defenses.

Indian 4 Guards followed the path created by 10 Bihar and took position behind Akhaura near the bank of the Titas River in an effort to cutoff the Pakistanis from all directions except the railway link through the Akhaura railway bridge. The bridge and its vicinity were heavily defended by the Pakistanis. They had constructed a number of reinforced concrete bunkers in this area. These bunkers running along the railway lines were so strong that even direct artillery hits could not destroy them.

The Indian 4 Guards were followed by 18 Rajput Rifles

The Akhaura railway bridge was a key objective of 4 Guards but all attempts to capture the bridge failed that night under stiff Pakistani resistance.

Map 2: This map above shows our position and Pakistani positions in front of us. Azompur station is shown as a yellow dot on the left of the map. Our trenches are shown as yellow rectangles. The location of the company headquarters can be seen as a red star on the right side of the map. Also visible are the remnants of the WWII hanger neat the company headquarters.  The green shaded area used to a wooded area, however, today after 36 years, the area is heavily populated.

Azompur Railway station today

To our right was Azompur railway station; it was occupied by a platoon of Pakistani regulars. The Pakistani positions in our front were all hardened concrete bunkers and fire from these bunkers saturated our positions with devastating showers of lead. Suddenly, the Pakistanis turned the artillery guns on us and unleashed a severe artillery barrage. The most intense artillery battle of the entire war took place in Akhaura and we were in the thick of it. At least one artillery shell had landed in every square meter of our position. We were in Akhaura for six days, and for the first five days, shelling from both sides were relentless.

Meanwhile, Singarbil areas located to the north of Azompur station was attacked by 2^ndBengal and was captured. This attack took place around 2:00 a.m., on 1 December.

At 5:00 am. on 1 December, Indian 73 Mountain Brigade under Brig. Tuli, supported by tanks, attacked Gangasagar, which lies about one and half miles to the south of Akhaura. The objective of this attack was to cutoff Pakistani 33 Baluch Regiment deployed at Kosbah from the main element of 27 Brigade (located at Akhaura).

Meanwhile, the main Akhaura battlefield was relatively quite during the morning of 1 December. The battle at Gangasagar again flared up as 33 Baluch, after retreating created a strong defense.

In the Akhaura battlefield, meanwhile, Pakistani 12 FF regiment, divided into small groups, took position in the hardened bunkers positioned along the railway lines. Some of these 12 FF elements were deployed in the bunker in front of us and we continued to exchange small arms fire with them. Since both were in dug in positions, these exchanges were mostly ineffective. We did not suffer any serious casualties and I believe so did our enemy.

Things quickly changed around 1:00 pm when a battalion of 57 Mountain Brigade, with tank support, attacked Akhaura. The artillery battle restarted and we ducked deep into our trenches.

I was never much bothered about small arms fire, particularly, when in a trench or a bunker. In these situations, I had an equal chance of shooting back at the enemy. However, these bloody artillery shells and mortar bombs were terrifying. When you face shelling, you are always thinking if a shell is going to land on you. This constant apprehension is probably the greatest advantage of artillery shelling. The psychological pressure is very damaging to the opponent’s morale. Whether a shell will fall on your trench or not is only a guess and a matter of luck.

During a lull in fighting, Maj. Matin and I were returning from the trenches to our Company HQ, when suddenly shelling resumed. Finding no cover in the vicinity, we ran toward the trees. I took shelter under a small tree while Maj. Matin took refuge under a tree with a huge trunk. A distance of only 10 meters separated us. When Maj. Matin saw that I had taken shelter under such a feeble tree, he looked furiously at me and unleashed his barrage of abuses at me; and between those abuses told me to take shelter under another large tree a few yards to my right. I did so. As soon as I had changed position, a shell landed just in front of the tree under which I had previously taken shelter. Though the tree remained standing, some of its branches broke from the impact of the shell’s splinters. In the middle of the shelling, Maj. Matin gave me a contemptuous glare though he may have had just saved my life.

If we were unlucky, the Pakistani defenders were unluckier. The Pakistanis had 18 105mm howitzers and about 8 120mm mortars in Akhaura. On the other hand, the Indians had the full divisional artillery consisting of 72 guns including many heavy artillery pieces. When all these 72 artillery guns fired on Akhaura, the effect was apocalyptical.

The artillery duel continued intermittently throughout the night of 01 December, while we remained without any food.

Map 3: Showing the extended battlefield of Akhaura-Bhranmanbaria-Bhairab axis. On the top left corner of the map the location of Bhairab and Ashuganj can be clearly seen. The top right of the map, Teliapara and adjacent areas are barely visible. The yellow place marks on the right side of the map are the railway stations along that route.

It became morning, 2 December 1971. Maj. Matin decided to setup the company headquarters behind a large wall. During the Second World War, Agartala Airport (its original name was Singarbil Aero dram) was constructed by the British army for providing air support to the Burma Campaign against the Japanese. Besides the runway, they also had constructed a number of aircraft hangers by the side of the airfield. Time had taken its toll and only the walls remained of the WWII aircraft hangers. We setup our company headquarters behind one of these walls. We neither constructed a bunker nor a trench—our lives depended solely on the protection offered by these thick brick walls constructed over 35 years ago. .

Maj. Matin’s reasoned that as the Pakistanis were firing mostly artillery shells, which have a flat trajectory, it was impossible for a shell to land in our position located immediately behind the wall. Yes, a shell could have hit the wall and part of the wall could have collapsed on us. However, a few bricks falling on our heads were preferable to being hit by an artillery shell. The risks appeared acceptable to us.

In the Company HQ, there were a total of three persons: Maj. Matin, his runner Mujib, and I. Since, Maj. Matin was the only officer in the company; my responsibilities were to stand for him when he was not in the HQ.

The F-86 Saber Jets of Pakistan Air force kept on attacking Akhaura since morning. The clear winter sky was full of plumes of white smoke as the Indian Anti-Aircraft guns created an effective defense against Pakistani air attacks.

From time to time, the Pakistani gunners interrupted their fire for unknown reasons. Maybe because the guns became too hot or some of the Indian artillery shells found its targets—who knows? We used these breaks to get some food and ammunition to the trenches. This was the first meal after taking position on the night of 30 November. We had not food on the 1 December.

After sunset, the entire battlefield again erupted in a fierce firefight. The battle gradually intensifying as the night progressed. Artillery shells started landing on our position like a hailstorm, while I kept praying not to become a causality of the savage shelling.

On 2 December, it was just before sunrise when I accompanied Maj. Matin to visit the trenches to find out the status of our defense and of ammunition. The ban on smoking seemed irrelevant now and we resumed smoking freely. As soon as we had finished our cigarettes, intense small arms fire erupted from our right flank. The Pakistani bunkers in front of us also joined in the shooting and so did we. The sound of firing from our right flank was increasing. Suddenly, we heard the sound of Pakistani battle cry and intense firing. We jumped into a trench.

Maj. Matin told us to keep firing at our right flank as it seemed that the 2^nd Bengal had abandoned their position at the station! Maj. Matin jumped out of the trench and vanished. He came back in a few minutes with another person—Naik Golam Mowla. Mowla was apparently disgusted with the fleeing 2^nd Bengal soldiers and was telling Maj. Matin that he would shoot anybody, even the 2^ndBengal, if they tried to flee the battlefield. Maj. Matin was visibly alarmed and told Mowla not to do any such thing. The problem is that in a battle field when someone in front of you gets panicked and starts fleeing their assigned posts, it immediately affects the morale of the rest of the troops. They also gets panicked and starts abandoning their positions. Therefore, it is essential to motivate to calm the troops as early as possible. Sometimes, it may be necessary to take stern actions against those who try to flee. This exchange between Major Matin and Naik Mowla was taking place while intense firing was continuing. He asked Naik Mowla to immediately return to his trench and handle the situation.

He then directed us to concentrate fire on the right flank and again vanished. We were receiving fire from our front—from the Pakistani bunkers across the ditch. However, the danger from the right flank was immediate and lethal. If we allowed the Pakistanis to overrun our position — we would all die! So it became a desperate fight. There were three more trenches to my right and people from two of those trenches retreated and we could persuade some of them to remain in our trench. Some of our troops were influenced by the fleeing 2^ndBengal elements and were soon lost in the darkness. But the majority of our troops remained in their positions. The new people that joined our trench were carrying two light Machine Guns. Now our trench was crammed with six people, two light Machine Guns. All of us concentrated our fire on our right flank. Rafiq, was the only person in the trench just next to ours, kept firing his 2-inch mortar. He kept popping mortar bombs as fast as he could. Pop! Pop! Pop! Boom! Boom! Boom! I think that night I permanently lost part of hearing from my left ear. One Chinese LMG was firing from my left, almost over my shoulder, the end of the barrel nearly touching my left ear.

Soon, I heard someone started firing our MG42 at the Pakistanis from a nearby trench. We had no time to look back. We had two full boxes of 7.62X39 (for Chinese SMG and Rifle) and 7.62X51 (for SLR) in our trench.

Map 4: Showing the Pakistani defenses on the northern side of Akhaura battlefield. The green shaded areas represent Pakistani bunkers. The position of 2^ndEast Bengal and our positions are represented by yellow colored rectangles.

I had exhausted all the four magazines of the SMG and started to reload the magazines from the open ammunition boxes. As soon as the magazine was loaded, I started firing again. Soon the magazine was exhausted and again I reloaded the magazine. But this time I reloaded all the four magazines. We all started reloading our magazine by turn, which was not particularly easy under fire and in total darkness.

We had created such a blanket of fire that that the Pakistanis could not advance any further—they stopped. The stalemate continued for sometime until Maj. Matin reappeared from somewhere. I found Naik Mowla accompanying him carrying the MG42, two extra ammunition belts slung over his shoulders. Maj. Matin commanded us to charge the Pakistanis.

Normally, a charge is something we abhorred. It was terrifying. It required lots of training and guts, at least one of which we lacked. But it seemed that that night we had crossed the boundary of fear—after crossing the threshold of fear, you care no more. I don’t think you can call it courage because in those situations you are overflowing with adrenaline and you cannot think rationally—you simply act or react on instinct. You feel like a savage hungry beast looking for prey, someone to kill and devour. You are beyond rational. Your brain is now one track. It is kill or be killed—there is no other choice. That day we had reached that level. We climbed from our trenches and with the battle cry of “Joy Bangla,” and “Allaho Akber,” charged the Pakistanis. Were the Pakistanis surprised by the battle cry of “Allaho Akber?” Maybe they were. They considered us as Hindus. Terrified by so many terrified people screaming and charging, the Pakistanis fled and took shelter at the station they had captured from 2^ndBengal. We reoccupied our previously lost forward trenches.

That day we did not win any battle but we halted the Pakistanis from breaking through our defenses and foiled their plan to attack our rear. No one can blame the soldiers of 2nd Bengal because they were also like us, mere students, farmers, laborers, smugglers, former EPRs, and a few veterans of the original 2Bengal, mostly lead by inexperienced commanders.

Our victory celebrations were short lived. The Pakistanis unleashed a savage artillery barrage on us with full vengeance,. Meanwhile, I returned to the Company HQ and was resting when a shell landed very close to me—closer than many others, but I could not see where—it made a different kind of sound, unlike anything I had heard[1] before. The shell landed within a meter of where I was crouching on the ground. A was a bright flash lighting the entire area followed by a loud bang. I thought I was dead—we all were dead. Some dirt fell on me. For sometimes I became deaf, all sound around me was muted. Is it what you feel when you are dying? Then I realized I was not dead—we were not dead. The force of the blast flung all the splinters away from us and we merely faced the shock waves of the explosion.

Our sacredness unfortunately did not stop the shelling and soon our sacredness was replaced by a kind of dreary bleakness. I was sure that I was going to die that day. After sometime, as the shelling slackened, we went to inspect the forward trenches. There were some trees in front of our position; some were blown apart littering the entire area with broken branches, twigs, and leaves. The ground all around was dotted with holes created by the impact of artillery shells. The shelling had not completely ceased, few shells were still landing. Compared to what we had faced a little earlier, it was a minor inconvenience. We became hungry but no food was available because our kitchen was located about two kilometers behind the front lines and due to the intense shelling, no food was forthcoming.

After sometime, Maj. Matin asked me to return to the Company HQ to coordinate with other platoons. He insisted that at least one of us must be at the Company HQ because it was the hub of the entire company’s activities. All the injured were first taken to Company HQ and depending on the nature of injury they were either treated by the Company medics or sent to the hospitals. Another two persons, both former civilians like me, joined as I headed for the Company HQ.

As we reached halfway, the shelling intensified. Shells started landing around us including a few that landed very close to our right. Finding no cover in the vicinity, we started running for the Company HQ; some more shells landed near us. The person who was running in front of me suddenly fell down screaming, “I am hit,” “I am hit,” “help me, help me,” The remaining two of us ran to him and found that a splinter had pierced his left thigh, made a deep gash, and blood was rushing out from the wound. I had a pressure bandage with me; immediately I wrapped the bandage around his thigh and tightened it, somewhat stemming the oozing flow. The two of us supporting him from both the sides, we struggled toward the Company HQ. As soon as we had taken a few steps, another few shells landed very close to us. To my utter amazement, I found that the seriously injured person, with his nearly severed leg, dashed for the cover of a nearby tree, almost throwing us to the ground—I could never have imagined that a seriously injured person could do that. The injured person was so scared that he forgot all pain in his desperate dash to safety. We again tried to carry him, but he would not budge from his new shelter. Meanwhile, shells kept landing among us. It was a hopeless situation. We could not leave him, this place was not safe. Moreover, if not treated soon, he might die due to loss of blood, and we had to seek appropriate shelter ourselves. In spite of his vehement protests, we forced him up from the ground and hauled him to the Company HQ. He was promptly dispatched to a hospital.

We waited a while behind the protection of our wall and ate our meager breakfast. After a short while Col Shafiullah, the S-Force Commander, came to visit our Company HQ. Excited and emotional, he embraced Maj. Matin; he was sobbing. Between sobs, he kept repeating, “Matin, you have saved my honor, you have saved the honor of S-Force.” Maj. Matin was visibly embarrassed. Politely and maintaining requisite comport he attempted to console the S-Force Commander. Soon Col. Shafiullah restrained himself and regained his composure. Meanwhile, Pakistani artillery was firing arbitrary shells and they were landing at random inside our defenses. Scanning the environs of the Company HQ, Col. Shafiullah inquired, “Where is your trench, Matin?” When Maj. Matin replied that he had no trench, Col. Shafiullah appeared puzzled, “No trench?” he inquired incredulously. How can it be? How can you survive without a trench in a battlefield that would come to be known as one of the most vicious artillery battles? Maj. Matin reassured him that the Company HQ was quite safe. He explained his reasoning. Disconcerted, Maj. Matin’s reassurance did not appear to reassure Col. Shafiullah. With obvious discomfiture, the S-Force Commander kept shaking his head. He soon left.

After breakfast, having satisfied some of our hunger, we lit cigarettes. The sound of battle became relatively quiet, occasionally interrupted by the sound of Machine Guns.

Fortunately, we could eat dry afternoon meals that day. The quietness was disturbing and appeared somehow deceptive. Suddenly, we became alarmed by the sound of aircraft. There were three aircrafts. The Indian anti-aircraft guns started throwing its lethal projectiles, which exploded in the clear blue midday sky. The jets briefly strafed on the Indian positions near Akhaura RailwayBridgeand than headed in the direction of Gangasagar. We heard the sound of anti-aircraft guns around Gangasagar and loud booms of exploding rockets fired by the jets. Half an hour later the battlefield again grew silent.

Soon the sun’s reign was over and it started to descend behind the horizon; the dying sunlight casting its yellowish death throes over the battlefield; the yellow quickly turning into purple, and finally darkness blanketed the arena, bringing back the apprehensions into our consciousness.

The battlefield remained eerily quiet until 8 pm then the Pakistanis attacked.

The artillery battle restarted; our position was again subjected to a most intense barrage. We also came under attack from the Pakistani positions around Azompur and we were again entangled in a vicious battle. The battle continued throughout the night. The Pakistanis could not gain any ground and the attack proved fruitless.

It seemed that the Pakistanis had increased the number of guns targeting us because the shelling appeared to be even more intense than what we had faced before. This time they started firing a mixture of ground-bursts and airbursts. As a protection from airbursts, some of our people had improvised their shelters  by caving the walls of their trenches. This small cave like holes allowed them to hide their head and part of the body from being exposed to airbursts. However, these holes had also created the possibility of the trenches caving in by a direct hit or even by an artillery shell landing nearby. Despite, our troops considered protecting themselves from airbursts a priority and accepted the possibility of caving in as the lesser evil. .

The shelling and shooting continued until 11:00 p.m. Then it became quite—very quiet. Maj. Matin and I headed to inspect the trenches located at the front, near Azompur station. I was looking around, a lighted cigarette loosely dangling from the corner of my lips. Some more trees had fallen and some more branches littered the landscape. Then my gaze shifted to a trench in front of me—the 2-inch mortar -man Rafiq’s trench. I could not believe my eyes. Rafiq’s trench was a D-shaped trench; a trench constructed for the 2-inch mortar. In the dark, the trench looked strange. The trench looked wider and irregular. Ominous premonitions automatically ejected the cigarette from my lips. I took a few involuntary steps toward the trench and became frozen by the sight. Where was Rafiq? Oh! My God, a shell had landed just inside the trench ripping apart his entire body. It was not possible to recognize him as Rafiq. Rafiq was nearly my age and even shorter than I was. Rafiq had been in our company for some months; because a rifle was too awkward for him, he preferred the 2-inch mortar as his weapon of choice and he became quite apt in its use. He mostly kept to himself and was not very talkative, but in a battle he stood his ground and had no hesitation to confront the enemy. I admired his courage even though he chose to keep his distance from most of us. He was liked by everybody in the company not because he was probably the youngest but for his cold courage. A few more people came to the trench. I could not move. I could not speak. For the first time in 1971, I cried silently. I could not control my crying. I did not even try to touch him; I could not touch the deformed humanity that used to be a courageous boy soldier named Rafiq. I could not touch him—it was not Rafiq. I kept on crying. When we buried him, I was still crying. I was crying when we came back to the trench after his janaja. Even today, when I am alone, I sometimes cry over him.

At 4:00 a.m. (it was already 3 December), when Major Matin woke me up. Without realizing I had fallen asleep in the middle of an artillery battle! The constant sleep deprivation and consistent anguish had dulled and numbed my senses and frankly I did not much care even if a shell had landed on me. The smell of death and destruction was all around us. Each day some of our comrades were dying. By now I had resigned to my fate and made peace with death. If death must come, it was not unwelcome. I only prayed that if I must die in this battlefield, it should be either through a direct hit by an artillery shell or by a bullet through some vital organ so that I don’t have to suffer the ignominy of a cripple. I intensely disliked the idea of a hospital bed with various bandages and tubes protruding from everywhere, I vividly remembered the state of Dula Mia at the Agartala Hospital and I did not want to face his fate.

Maj. Matin’s shove brought me back from my reverie to the world of those standing in the boundary of life and death. He informed me that we would soon be participating in an attack on Azompur station. I felt much better. It was much better to die fighting than die like a cornered dog huddled in the trench. We joined the forward trenches.

Around 6:00 a.m., the Indian artillery unleashed an intense and savage barrage on Azompur railway station. The shelling continued for about 15 minutes.

Just after the shelling had ceased, 2^nd East Bengal attacked Azompur from the north and we attacked from the east of the station.

Instead of charging the station, we took position behind trees and started shooting at the station. Attacked from two directions, the Pakistanis were trapped. Our MG42 and two light Machine Guns started pouring their lethal cargo of death and destruction over the Pakistani position.

Soon, the Pakistani fire from the station stopped for a moment. Suddenly, we started receiving LMG fire from our left, from the direction of Akhaura. Turning left, we noticed that some Pakistani reinforcements were trying to come through the railway tracks. Immediately, the MG42 was positioned to cover the railway tracks and started firing, while the two LMGs continued targeting the station.

The passage through the railway tracks was quite narrow. As the MG42 covered this narrow track, not a single Pakistani could come near the station. The Pakistanis fled from the station and soon 2^nd East Bengal occupied the station.

After the station was reoccupied, we returned to our trenches and expectedly, the artillery barrage on our position resumed. The artillery shelling continued sporadically throughout the night but the Pakistanis did not dare to again attack that night.

On 3 December, at 6:00 p.m., Pakistan air force started a surprise attack from West Pakistan against the Indian air force but this attack was largely unsuccessful.

On the same day, immediately after the preemptive strike by Pakistani air force, India declared formal war against Pakistan and the Indian air force was unleashed on the night of 3 December. In a single night, the Indian air force flew over 500 sorties, and after that, we never saw Pakistan jets over our skies.

During a lull in the battle, I, along with Maj. Matin went to visit the recaptured Azompur station. I looked around the station and noticed a few new trenches were now adorning the station. I also noticed a rocket launcher in a trench overlooking what appeared to be a small bridge. Lt. Badiuzzaman explained that the Pakistanis had tanks. The rocket launcher was positioned there to stop Pakistani tanks if they used them. The position looked well protected to me. We had reasons to be concerned with Lt. Badiuzzaman’s position because we were acutely aware that the only way the Pakistanis can attack us, they will have to come through Badiuzzaman’s defenses. It was quite difficult for the Pakistanis to attack us through the anti-tank ditch because we would have butchered them in the ditch, which had a mine-field and was a death trap for infantry. We were also similarly constrained in attacking the Pakistani position through the ditch.

As evening was approaching, we returned to our position. Another group had already left to collect our supper but that supper would never arrive. After about an hour, Lt. Badiuzzaman came to our Company HQ. He looked rather troubled. Maj. Matin, a little annoyed, inquired of him what he was doing in our HQ leaving his position. Now, he looked seriously troubled. Maj. Matin was sternly staring at him. Hesitating to speak, Badiuzzaman finally spoke. He requested Maj. Matin to go with him to his position and help him to settle down the troops. He said that his troops were showing signs that they might abandon the defenses.

Hearing this, Maj. Matin became furious. “What, you call yourself an officer?” He challenged Badiuzzaman. Poor Badiuzzaman kept looking at his feet. Maj. Matin did not stop. When Maj. Matin was angry, as I had indicated before, he could unleash a barrage of sarcastic abuses. I felt that Badiuzzaman really needed help. I interceded and started reasoning with Maj. Matin. I said, “Matin Bhai, he needs your help. His position is also critical to us. If his troops fled during the night, we will be in deep trouble. Please help him.” Maj. Matin started glaring at me. He was furious that I dared to interrupt him while he was addressing another officer. I thought he was going to target me with his abuses. Fortunately, he did not. He probably agreed with my reasoning. He cooled down and agreed to accompany Badiuzzaman. Before leaving with Badiuzzaman, Maj. Matin instructed me to remain in the Company HQ and stand for him. Slinging their respective SMGs they left.

He came back after an hour and half and informed me that everything was in order. He had given a pep talk to Badiuzzaman’s troops and assured them that we would come to their assistance if they were under attack.

Battle, as usual, continued throughout the night of 3 December. In our position, the Pakistanis kept on shelling on and off, which by now had become a regular phenomenon. Therefore, we accepted the shelling with a kind of philosophical indifference. Now, I could even sleep during intense shelling!

It was the morning on 4 December. The time was around 4:30 or 5 a.m. when Pakistani 12 FF and a part of Azad Kashmir regiment counterattacked all across the front. Fierce fighting again erupted all over the battlefield.

Some of the Pakistani troops tried to attack us through the railway tracks; however, effective fire from an MMG stopped that attempt.

The Pakistani counterattack achieved little.

As the battle slackened, we received terrible news. Lt. Badiuzzaman, who was leading the defense of Azompur station died during the night while trying to encourage, motivate, and rally his troops during the Pakistani attack. An artillery shell had landed just in front of him and a number of splinters had fatally injured him.

He died shortly, before Maj. Matin and I went to see him after sunrise. He was still carrying the packet of Panama cigarettes in his pocket I had given him the previous night.

Akhaura fell on 5 December 1971. Most of the surviving Pakistani regulars of 12 Frontier Force and 12 Azad Kashmir, as well as 33 Baluch from Kasbah, tried to retreat toward Bhramanbaria. Some succeeded while many were captured by the angry villagers and were lynched. We remained in our position for sometime and then entered Akhaura to mop up any stragglers.

We found a few and arrested them. I particularly remember one, a frail looking youth of about 20 or 21. What caught my attention were his eyes, big scared eyes in a hollow black socket. He was shivering in fear. I felt sorry for him. He had endured one of the most intense shelling for five days. He, probably, like us, did not have any sleep for five days; probably he did not eat anything. He was crouching in the ground. Someone kicked his head and he feebly tried to protect his head with both hands. Now terrified, his face completely distorted in fear as our troops tried to pour all their vengeance on this poor fellow. I stepped forward and protected him from any further abuse. I helped him up and led him to our trenches.

The battle of Akhaura was finally over. In five days 18 of our comrades perished in the battlefield. Another 25 were injured, some of them seriously.

Shortly after, we left our trenches. In a single column, we crossed Agartala airport and entered Agartala town—it was actually the suburbs.

An incredible spectacle was before us. On both sides of the road, it seemed that the entire population of Agartala had assembled. They were shouting and cheering “Joy Bangla, Joy Bangla.” They had with them all sorts of food and drink. Some carried water, some green coconuts, some bananas, and some had even made tea. They were offering us all these food. They were hugging us. They were kissing a few. Men, women, children, old people, young people, toddlers, Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Buddhist, everybody was there.

I must also add that the Pakistani artillery did not spare the population of Agartala. They became frequent targets of Pakistani artillery shelling. The destruction caused by shelling was clearly visible everywhere. I could see many buildings partly destroyed by artillery shelling. Many innocent civilians had also died in these attacks, and they died for us, for the Bangalis. How could we ever pay for their sacrifice?

After walking for about 5 kilometers, we reached a location where our advance party had already erected a number of tents. We were so exhausted by hunger, tension, and sleep depravation that most all of us, just after entering the tent, fell asleep. In the back of our mind, we knew that the war had just started and more adventures awaited us in the coming days.

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[1] Later I discovered that it was a dude, i.e., the shell did note explode.