This writer zoomed into our ken like a rocket but seems to have gone down like the stick. Where is he now?
I wonder if he was kosher? Was it all a leg pull?
Regardless, good stuff regardless of his motivation.
If you are out there Rayc - MORE!. Even if it is just the machinations of those damned publisher johnnies who persist in haggling lilke some bazaar wallah on terms.

Actually since I didn't get a response, I thought I was boring you chaps.

Here's another one.


BLADDER BEDLAM

This is about the interesting ‘chemistry’ between Major J, Brigadier N [my Boss] and the human Bladder.

It happened in Ferozpur, a one-horse frontier dusty town in the Punjab. The period was in the late 1980s.

Major J was one of my Company Commanders. He was massive, fat and immensely swarthy. Shakespeare’s Othello, near bred to the burnished sun, was fairer in complexion.

Major J had a fetish for wearing things in Black. This may have been a fallout from his days in the ranks {Sepoy} when possibly he did not have time to wash his clothes and it was practical to wear black; black rarely looked dirty. The Tamil politicians, who wore dark glasses [‘cooling glasses’ as they call them in the South] even at night, could have also influenced his fetish for black. He was also known as the ‘Midnight Cowboy’ by the irreverent.

On the other hand, Brigadier N, the Brigade Commander, was a polished person, but a trifle officious and highly conscious of his rank and station. Notwithstanding his polish, he was still nonetheless, a ‘true blue’ from the Land of the Five Rivers (Punjab)!

I had just recently taken over the Battalion and I was totally at sea. I had come from a ‘pure’ Mahar [one class Maharastrian composition] unit while the unit I was commanding was an All India mix. The ethos obviously was different. My new unit did not do anything in half measures. Everything here gave the impression that the Moguls were back in business. Providentially, the harems were not.

Brigadier N enjoyed parties and if his social rota was unoccupied, gentle hints by his staff ensured that the evening became ‘occupied’. One such evening was organised by my unit. I really do not know the reasons why it was organised, but then the President Mess Committee {PMC} must have had his ears to the ground and so he played by the nose! I was still finding my feet in the Battalion and did not want to upset the ‘style’ of the unit. The army man management pamphlet had wisely advised us to ‘Take it Easy and look Busy’!

N, I was informed, liked good food, exquisite liquor and rather expensive though ‘light in tar’ imported cigarettes. I was ‘educated’ by the PMC that such delicacies were always available with the unit and the Mess and that the unit was trained to ‘know their onions’. He added that as per the traditions of the unit, COs {Commanding Officers} were never bothered with the mundane; one of the ‘mundane’ issues being when parties are to be organised. The CO was expected to merely arrive and ‘grace’ such occasions!

Since I was never to be bothered with the mundane and instead had to only ‘grace’ such occasions, I decided to be just another guest. In my previous unit, the CO was not just a ceremonious figure. Although I wasn’t too happy, it was too early to enforce my views.

I was living in a room adjacent to the Mess as my wife had not yet joined me. To be in time for the Party was no great shakes. The dress code was to be ‘Shirt and Tie’ [trousers were assumed to be worn] and the time given was 7.30 PM . I was in a position to saunter in, just before the brigadier arrived and simply ‘grace’ the mundane, such as the arrival of the Brigadier!

I got ready and considering that I had time to kill, I was halfway through a whisky in my room, when the Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant SP Singh arrived to inform me that the Brigadier had just left his residence and would be at the Mess in exactly three minutes! This was interesting. Such was the ‘taped up’ drill of the unit that a minute-to-minute progress of persons who mattered was always available! I thanked him and as casually as I could, I walked out of my room. SP Singh followed in my wake with the deference of a tug in the wake of QE II entering the New York harbour.

As I walked out, I saw the red dome light of the Brigadier’s vehicle flashing on the roof as it passed along the wall of the Mess. The car entered the gate. I took up my position as nonchalantly as I could, to receive the guest. I tried to remain cool as a cucumber since it was but the mundane that I was experiencing, namely receiving my Boss! This, in any walk of life, would have been an important matter of protocol, but in this unit, it was mundane!

The MP {Military Police} opened the car door and the Brigadier’s bulk descended on the porch, beaming from cheek to cheek in a most controlled, though uppity manner, of contrived bonhomie.

The party was organised both in the lawns and in the Mess. I would have preferred the lawns since Ferozpur could be very stuffy in summer. I reckon the Brigadier preferred the better-lit anteroom, perhaps to make sure that he was being served whisky that had been matured in oak in bonny old Scotland - the traditional offering that he was used to being proffered at parties in homage and tribute. Since he did not offer the same at home, I realised that this was not his preference under the domestic portals. I wanted to make him ‘feel at home’ especially since the Officers’ Mess is supposed to be a ‘home’. So, I instructed the PMC [much against his counsel that it was tantamount to sacrilege] to offer a good old Indian whisky, preferably Peter Scot, which in those days was considered a premium whisky.

This must have got the Brigadier’s goat. To be fair, he never insisted on Scotch. Nonetheless, with the first sip, he made a face as if he were choking on cyanide! His lips had become so contorted that it seemed a swig of Tik 20 [a cockroach killing pesticide] might have elicited a more pleasant reaction.

“Interesting whisky”, said good man. It appeared that he had no intentions to take that horrible grimace off his rather huge jowled double chinned face. Possibly, he felt that sewerage gutter water had been served. He wore a look as if he was waiting anxiously for a slow death or something equally horrible and painful to strike him.

I cared to ignore the Brigadier’s curled lips and contracted stomach. I was in no temperament to use the magic antidote i.e. Scotch on the rocks or on salt petre, if you wish or whatever.

“Ah, yes sir. Jolly interesting. It is Peter Scot and I am told that it is the best Indian whisky. One must try the Indian stuff. Be Indian, Buy Indian and all that. Keeps the national economy in fit shape. What ho, sir?” said I, with a straight face. In fact, I was pleased with myself for having invoked the Nation to my rescue. It always worked. Army blokes may be odd fishes, but their loyalty to the Nation could not be contested.

“Yep”. He had this penchant for Americanism. “Is the Nation having some hassles?” he asked. As though he could do anything about it on the measly pay we got!

“Fledging economy. Third World and all that. Things can always get better. All of us have to tighten our belts, sir” was my reply as if I were an MP {Member of Parliament and not Military Police} speaking to the media. Vague stuff, but very hard to dispute.

The waiter arrived as if on cue. A ‘555’ or maybe it was a ‘B&H’ cigarette that was offered to the good man. Whatever it was, it brought some cheer and untwisted, to some extent, the huge body till then convulsing in ‘excruciating pain’. The ‘555’ sop must have convinced him to imagine that I genuinely wanted him to try Indian whisky to shore up the national economy. Fortunately for me, he, as a rule, did not read the newspapers enough in detail to know if the economy was in dire straits or not.

Alcohol is a great social leveller. With the dosage being imbibed, the party got happier by the hour. All, including the Brigadier, appeared to be enjoying themselves.

Then, suddenly the lights went out! Whether it was load shedding or an electrical short circuit, one does not know.

Coincidentally, the band was playing the song, ‘The lights went out in Massachusetts’. I thought this was another of the deliberate mundane acts that I was not supposed to be bothered with. The gimmicks were getting my goat since it was contrary to the way I had been groomed in the Army.

SP Singh came into view on cue. ‘The Ferozpur electricity has failed’, he whispered in his sombre best.

There was a controlled pandemonium. Some officers ‘unobtrusively’ rushed to get the standby generator started. Others were generally taking it easy but looking busy, taking full advantage of the ensuing darkness to be their actual self, except when they spotted me, their Commanding Officer, in their vicinity.

Those in the lawn had moved in since some candles had been lit within the Mess.

I gravitated towards the veranda with the fervent, though irrational hope, that by moving out I could somehow ‘will’ the generator into operation.

Suddenly there was a yelp, the tenor being more of astonishment than hurt. It came from the far corner of the lawn, where there was a large mango tree. In the darkness, I could vaguely discern that something large had fallen on the lawn.

I hotfooted towards this site to investigate.

The Brigadier and Major J lay sprawled on the lawn.

It transpired that the Brigadier tried to take advantage of the dark and use the lawn as a public toilet. Being immensely full of bladder, he took the easy way out, rather than grope in the dark for the toilet. Swift in his pursuit for instant relief and determined to find the ‘corner’ and possibly a trifle disconcerted by this illegal methodology for relief, he must have been less than aware of his surroundings. Thus, there was this immense collision with the gigantic Major J, to lie crumpled in the horizontal on the lawn with all his blubber bouncing in mighty glee!

J had been ‘invisible’ to the bladder crazed Brigadier because of his natural hue [those repeated dabs of powder were in vain] and his Zorro outfit!

The Brigadier was ‘mighty’ angry obviously having been ‘caught in the act’.

So, because J was in black, I felt blue the next day, when I was summoned to the Brigadier’s office!

Such is the burden of command!

Originally Posted by Busterdog

Fascinating stuff Rayc. As one brought up on tales of the Indian Army your stories are pleasantly familiar. Deja vu?

I like your writing style it is reminiscent of a much more punctilious era in the British Army. Interestingly you express a preference for soldiers from areas the pre independence Indian Army traditionally recruited from. Was the quota system you mention designed to ensure against a preponderance of any given caste/religion or merely as a form of equal opportunity?

Wonderful stories, keep them coming!

Religion was never an important aspect in the Indian Army, even during the British times.

Caste as far as the Army is concerned is not ever discussed and is a total taboo.

To ensure that all parts of India is represented, there is a quota system for recruitment to the ranks.

Old Redcap,

It's not a leg pull.

Since I got no response, I thought I was merely boring you chaps.

My cousin (his father is an Englishman) is a Major (I am not too sure about his rank) is from the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. He liked some of my stories. Maybe he was polite since he was a youngster then and I was a senior officer!

In so far as publishing this book is concerned, I think I will try the UK since you chaps seem to be more enthusiastic about it than they are in India.

Chaps,

I will be grateful if you tell me where the story gets boring or long winded so that I can rethink and edit it to make it more readable.

Always looking forward to your comments!

I can take a dig at my expense, so feel free to do so.

However, you must also appreciate that much of the modern British humour is lost on me! ;)

Thanks Rayc. The similarities between the British (at least in my day) and Indian armies are manifestly apparent from your tales. As a former Scottish infantryman I can totally visualise the word pictures you portray so vividly.

Do Indian infantry officers apply for a particular regiment prior to receiving a commission?

Originally Posted by Busterdog

Thanks Rayc. The similarities between the British (at least in my day) and Indian armies are manifestly apparent from your tales. As a former Scottish infantryman I can totally visualise the word pictures you portray so vividly.

Do Indian infantry officers apply for a particular regiment prior to receiving a commission?

Yes, we apply for a particular Arm or Service with three choices of Arm/ Service.

In each such choice (Arms) we give three regiments as a choice.

The first 10 in the order of merit passing out get their choice. The remainder are distributed by the Military Secretary's Branch. They do try to ensure that one get one of the Regiments of their choice where feasible.

However, there is no guarantee that one gets his choice since the Gentlemen Cadets (GCs) are evenly distributed to the Regiments where there is a vacancy. This is to ensure that there is a equitable distribution of officers as per the order of merit to each Regiment.

This policy came into being since some popular regiments were getting the more meritorious officers than othernot so popular Regiments.

My Regiment, the MAHARs, was a popular one since we were Machine Gunners and we were mounted on Jeeps! 2/Lts and Capts were advisors to the Brigade Commander! We got converted to Infantry after 1962 and became footsloggers. There is no log book for walking. I wish it were there. I would have done seven times to the moon and back on a conservative estimate!

There is no mountain including high altitude that I have not walked around, no jungle, no desert and not to forget the plains! This is just to let you know the varied terrain and climatic conditions that we operate in. It also means different tactics that we have to know!

Throw in two Wars (including a raid 9 miles inside Pakistan Occupied Kashmir) and being wounded, one ongoing armed combat and being decorated, an ongoing counter insurgency, staff, instructional and that's me.

Notwithstanding, I enjoyed being an infantryman.

Hi Rayc

You asked for critical comments... I thought I'd add mine. I will preface them with the admission that I like your stories a lot. Furthermore I am not a writer, could not write as well as you do and am not professionally qualified in publishing or anything professionally relevant! Nevertheless I thought I'd be presumptious enough to make some suggestions.

Firstly, I think there is certainly a market for your stories. There is a residual affection for, and interest in, the Indian Army among the conservative British middle classes and ex-military readership. This is born of a nostalgia for the trappings of Empire shorn of the still controversial political arguments about it. Basically a collection such as yours has a ready and loyal niche of readers. I say loyal deliberately. The military book market can be very crudely divided into four categories namely 1) Flames-on-cover SAS style heroics and magazine-style retelling of recent operations 2) Weighty tomes about the ethics, practicability and broad startegy of military affairs 3) Serious military history for arm-chair generals (most 40+ men and all history teachers) and 4) The nostalgia market.

There is a side of all soldiers that is bluff, practical, pragmatic and cynical. However, that what motivates most Officers to join and stay is significantly influenced by other, more romantic notions - which is why so much mess chat is devoted to dress, history, tradition and "standards generally". Despite ever increasing operation committments, changing social attitudes, and the decreasing ritualisation of Army life its still there. Even more so, a committed soldier, and particularly a previously committed soldier who has left finds it physically impossible to avoid accumulating Regimental nick nacks, histories, pictures and stories. Stories the most, because they remind us of the warmth and camerarderie left behind.

Anyway I digress.... Army readers are generally are very loyal bunch, they regularly reccomend military books by word of mouth, particularly if they are nostalgic and funny. I don't say this as a criticism - I see it in myself.

However I think that the tone is slightly... wonky. I just can't think of a more appropriate word. Of course that is part of its charm, style and flavour but I suspect that if you hope to publish your stories for a wide audience in the UK it could do with some revision. Perhaps you could send it to a publisher/ associated British Regimental Association so you could make it a partnership with an ex-British Officer of similar age and status.

I am sure that Busterdog and RCSignals will agree with me that you could not go far wrong by reading "The Complete McAuslan" if you haven't already. G M McDonald Fraser is a superlative writer of historical novels and, most importantly, McAuslan stories. The eponymous soldier is thoughtfully described as "The biggest disaster to hit the British Army since Ancient Pistol." - a dirty, unkempt, unreliable, occassionally violent but ultimately loveable Glaswegian Private soldier (although once, memorably a LCpl) in the Gordon Highlanders of the 1950s.

For the splendid blend of period atmosphere, anecdote, humour, authorial opinion you really couldn't go far wrong by taking it as a template. I don't know a single Scots Div Officer or ex-Officer who isn't familiar with, and fond of, his books. Further still I know that many SNCOs are also fans, as are some English Officers and NCOs.

Of course, its easy to say. I didn't realise how hard the process of military writing could be until I read John Masters's autobiographies (he was a Ghurka Officer from 1935- 1946 and rose to Brigadier) and saw the tremendous organisation and effort that has to go into it.

So - I'll stop rambling. I think it would be really good for you to fine tune the style by..

a) Reading similar books and taking what you can. I'd reccomend...

The Complete McAuslan - G M F Fraser
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/...506164-7861436

Tales from the Mess: A Military Miscellany - Miles Noonan (Editor)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/...506164-7861436

Military Mayhem - Raymond Horricks (Editor)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/...506164-7861436

I'm sure that others could reccommend more.

b) Contacting a UK military publisher such as Pen and Sword (very well known and respected) and asking for their professional view.
http://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/cgi-bin/uk/

c) Contacting the Regimental Association of British Regiments associated with you and asking if they've any ex-Officers (preferably in their dotage with lots of time on their hands) to collaborate with you.

I've banged away at the keyboard for far too long! Just my two pence worth (a rather heavy and long two pence) hope it helps!

Good luck

Charlie

Thanks for the advice.

I appreciate the same.

One of my classmate is coming over from the UK and I think I will ask him to get me one of the books.

Thanks

Sensitive critique C_C and sound advice. Thanks for the info' Rayc, forgive the questions, though which are the more popular regiments? Do some, as in the British Army, have a certain social cachet? What are 'class' regiments?

No unlike the British army, there is no social catchet (if the threads here are any guide).

In the olden days one had to be well heeled to be in the Armoured Corps or the Guards since their uniforms were very expensive and their lifestyle very grand so to say.

Normally the landed gentry or those who claimed to be of royal blood were preferred in such Regiments.

Then came the Land Ceiling Act which spelt the the end of huge land holdings and also the feudalism part of Indian Scoiety.

Thereafter the Abolition of the Privy Purse for the erstwhile Rajas and Nabobs was a blow to the freewheeling life.

The social distinction has vanished.

The 1962 debacle brought the end of the 'easy going' lifestyle of the Army and it became very professional. Though, I will admit that because a large number of riff raffs also got commission during the mad rush to bring the strength at par to the threat after 1962, the social standards dropped.

The wars that we have fought have been the real levellers wherein professionalism reached its zenith.

The three year tenure on the Line of Control and also on the Indo Tibet border and the Counter Insurgency has also taken its toll. Because officers are on the posts and isolated wherein the unit is rarely together, the regimental bonding has decreased in intensity. As emphasis is paid on good gradings on the courses and entering the Staff College coupled with the drawdown of regimental bonding, the army service is no longer taken as a "calling" and instead is taken as any other "career". Ambition has raised its ugly head with all its negative manifestations. Command is no longer what one looks forward to since the CYA syndrome ensures promotions. People rather be on staff so that someone else holds the can!

Ah well, I presume that is what is afflicting all the armies of the world!

The "popular" regiments used to be the old regiments of the Armoured Corps and the old regiments of the Infantry including the Guards and the Gorkhas.

The "class composition" is what is followed in the older regiments wherein the troops are drawn from a particular area of the country. Egs Sikhs, Punjab, Gurkha Rifles, Jammu and Kashmir Rifles, Maratha Light Infantry, Mahar (some units), Assam and so on.

Caste is not a criterion.