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Taking a tricky call

In the 1960s, my battalion was deployed along the Line of Control in J&K. I was the Adjutant. I had a friend in Shimla and used to phone her often. Or, tried to. With five telephone exchanges in between, it...
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In the 1960s, my battalion was deployed along the Line of Control in J&K. I was the Adjutant. I had a friend in Shimla and used to phone her often. Or, tried to. With five telephone exchanges in between, it was a miracle to get the call through. And when it did, it was invariably at an odd hour.

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One day, the call materialised in the morning when I was out attending the PT parade. Assuming that a call to Command Headquarters must be important, a new operator connected it to the Commanding Officer (CO). At breakfast, I was grilled by the CO regarding the call he had attended. Later, my friend told me that the CO was very sweet but rather talkative, jokingly adding that she almost got late for her college. I could understand: in field areas, the CO is always the loneliest person. Military protocol makes him his sole company.

I recognised the voice of the exchange operator at the brigade headquarters. Harmel Singh spoke in a soothing voice, ideal for his job. He was also very helpful. Procedurally, pending calls get automatically cancelled at midnight. He rebooked my calls on his own.

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One day, there was slackness on the part of some of our battalion’s signal platoon personnel. In anger, I ordered the whole platoon to climb the nearby hill on the morrow, ostensibly for line-laying training. But they knew that it was a punishment.

Soon after, I was assailed by conflicting thoughts. Mass punishment, since it equates many innocents with a few guilty, was against my convictions. Overall, our signal platoon was doing a commendable job. Loathing myself for a hasty decision, I spent uneasy hours.

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Late evening, Harmel called. He was unusually effusive. ‘Do you want your Shimla call, sir?’ I inferred a connection; he was soliciting on behalf of our signallers. ‘No, thank you,’ I replied.

He called back in less than 15 minutes. Before I could say anything, he said, ‘Sir, your Shimla call is on hold,’ and plugged himself out. I had a long and leisurely chat, without even one irritating, ‘try to finish, sir’ interruption from the many intermediate exchange operators. Harmel had buttoned up every loose end.

As I lay awake on the camp cot that night, I was confused. Should I continue with the punishment? Should I stick to the order only to avoid projecting myself as fickle-minded? Would my latest call be construed as the reason for my withdrawal of the order, if I did it? There was no easy choice.

I knew that at daybreak, Subedar Tek Chand would give the platoon ‘all-ready’ report. I had to decide before that. Finally, I took a call and rescinded the order given to the platoon.

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