1965: A Western Sunrise

Shiv Kunal Verma’s work on the 1965 war attempts to bridge the gap in our understanding of the lesser known among the two major wars we have fought with Pakistan. Verma picks up from where he left off with his book, “ 1962 – The War that Wasn’t” painting the background of a demoralising defeat suffered by the Indian Army in the 1962 war with China, perpetuated largely by appallingly inept senior political and military leadership. Meanwhile, Pakistan pitchforked itself into prominence as a member of SEATO and CENTO staking claim as the bulwark against communist Russia. Furthering strengthening its geopolitical standing, Pakistan cemented a strategic partnership with China surrendering the Shakshgam valley. The tale unfolds with the author’s detailed description of Pakistan’s Operation Desert Hawk ( Rann of Kutch), where the first salvos were fired. The Pakistani foray was thwarted but gave Pakistan a false sense of assurance that India was militarily incapable of countering an offensive in Kashmir, setting the stage for Operation ‘Gibraltar’—in Kashmir. Nearly 12,000 trained saboteurs, a mix of Razakars and mujahids, called the ‘Gibraltar Forces’. were covertly deployed in multiple groups, each named after historical plunderers of the subcontinent. Confident that they had superior armour (M-47 and M-48 Patton tanks), and better fighters (F-86 Sabres and F-104 Starfighters) than India, the Pakistanis expected that the Indians would collapse just as they had against China in NEFA three years previously. However, India repulsed the attack and cut off the entry and exit points into the Kashmir Valley by capturing the Haji Pir Bulge. Op Gibraltar was a disaster; not backed by adequate intelligence regarding the extent of popular support for the rebellion, and turned out to be a damp squib despite an ambitious plan and multiple thrust lines.

This was followed by Op Grand Slam, a surgical swift artillery-supported armour-led thrust into the Chhamb-Akkhnur bulge aimed at capturing the vital town of Akhnur. After which the plains of Punjab and the deserts of Rajasthan come into play, each sector with its unique set of challenges from the terrain to the weather, and the type of opposition both in quantity and quality. The story enmeshes both the army and air force capturing the personalities involved and the courage, commitment, and capabilities of our soldiers, and airmen. The description and the detail of the battles are vivid and in almost scholarly detail. However, in my research online, I did come across some possible factual and time and space errors highlighted by certain commentators.

@himadribose The conflict ended when the Tashkent Agreement was signed by Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri and President Ayub Khan on 10 January 1966, agreeing to observe the ceasefire lines and withdraw their respective armed personnel to positions that they had held before 5 August 1965, surrendering many of the hard-fought gains in key locations.

Verma is effusive in his praise of the brilliant Gen Harbaksh Singh as he managed to orchestrate the anti-infiltration campaign in J&K, direct the defensive battle in Chhamb, and inspire the revival of the 4 Mountain Division at Assal Uttar. Verma is most critical of India’s Army Chief General Jayanto Nath Chaudhuri, blaming him for the failure to integrate the Indian Air Force and Navy into his war plans. He believes that General Chaudhuri should have been relieved of command after India’s disastrous failure in the war with China in 1962. Air Marshal P.C. Lal, who was at the helm of the IAF six years later, said that one had to only listen to Chaudhuri’s comments to realise that he treated the whole business of fighting Pakistan or China as ‘his personal affair’. Verma argues that Chaudhuri, when queried on whether the Army could achieve a decisive victory, advised the Prime Minister on 20 Sep that the Army was coming to the end of its ammunition stocks when only 20 percent had been expended. Contrarily, the Pakistani artillery was close to running out of ammunition. He accuses the Indian Defense Minister Yashwantrao Balwantrao Chavan of being more concerned with protecting then-Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s reputation than reorganising the Indian military’s higher command. The hard lessons of India’s defeat in 1962 (the subject of Verma’s 1962 The War That Wasn’t) were simply ignored by India’s leaders—both military and political. Indeed, throughout the book, Verma repeatedly criticises senior Indian military leaders, but couples that with effusive praise for the junior officers and combat troops who enabled India to resist multiple Pakistani offensives. Essentially, at the unit, regimental, and squadron levels both nations fought well.

The author has also covered the aspect of the steel will of the physically diminutive Indian Prime Minister, Lal Bahadur Shastri – which was underestimated by the Pakistani leadership. In a sub-section titled, “ The Little Big Man”, Verma argues “that Shastri had proven himself to be a man of rare courage and fortitude”. He had challenged President Ayub and walked the talk by allowing his Army to take the fight to the enemy.

The book is detailed, with an intense description of company-level skirmishes, air combat dogfights, tank battles, paratroop drops, friendly-fire incidents, missed opportunities, inter-service rivalries, and intelligence failures. However, as a corollary, the detailed minutiae of war and its tactics without accompanying detailed maps may be overwhelming for many readers. Furthermore, I found the book limited in its scope of examination of the discourse and analysis on the Pakistani side. The book is not easy on the eyes with its small font spread over five hundred-plus pages. A good read, with in-depth research but possibly only for the serious military historian.

@himadribose