Fatal fixation with country-made liquor

THE recent India-Pakistan conflict and the hooch tragedy in Amritsar district reminded me of an incident that occurred during Operation Parakram in 2001. Following our deployment along the border in Gurdaspur, we received orders to lay mines. It was December; the wheat crop grew in the fields. Minefields were designed as per the Army’s tactical plans. They did not adhere to the layout of fields. Tubewells, electric poles, one-room huts, indeed whatever was in the fields, fell within their area.

Mines were laid at night. The next morning, affected villagers awoke to a rude shock, seeing their fields declared out of bounds. The minefields’ perimeter was marked by three strands of barbed wire; red triangular signs were displayed, warning of danger. During the initial days, sentries were posted to warn villagers against venturing into the fields peppered with mines. Announcements were also made from village gurdwara loudspeakers. Villagers dutifully stayed away, although they rued the loss of their crops and their inability to use tubewells in the vicinity.

As time wore on, villagers became complacent. One morning, we heard a loud explosion from a minefield. Villagers and soldiers heard anguished cries from a tubewell hut, “Bachao! Bachao! Mar gaya! Mar gaya!” Nobody dared to take the risk of going into the minefield. The injured person kept crying to be rescued. Villagers yelled at him to come out, but he yelled back that his leg had been blown up. Local residents looked towards the soldiers, who told them that the only way out was to breach the minefield.

Breaching and disarming the mines would take considerable time. In the meantime, the injured person might lose more blood and die. Soldiers instructed him to crawl back towards the barbed wire, carefully following the same route he had taken to get into the minefield. The injured somehow made it to the barbed wire. He turned out to be the owner of the field. He was given first aid and immediately taken to the nearest hospital.

When asked why he had ventured into the minefield, he replied, somewhat shamefacedly, that he had buried containers of country liquor near the bumbi (tubewell) and failed to retrieve them before the mines were laid. He said he waited long enough, but then the urge to drink finally clouded his thinking. He thus decided to take the risk of stepping into the minefield. He was treated at the military hospital and later given a prosthetic free of cost.

We learnt a few lessons. This incident reinforced our faith in the effectiveness of our well-laid mines, despite their notable vintage. Did villagers learn a lesson, though? Apparently, no. A few months on, another alcoholic met a similar fate in another minefield.