Down Memory Lane
Sometime earlier, Mangat had written a letter to Ian Cardozo, his erstwhile roommate at IMA, that aptly describes the situation prevailing and the spirit and morale of the officers and men of 2 Rajput deployed in the valley.
He wrote:
My dear Cardi It looks like it is I who will go first into battle. I am not able to tell you where I am but we are just short of the McMahon Line. The Chinese hold the high ground and seem to be in great strength. Should they attack we will defend our territory to our very last breath. It is very cold out here and we do not have snow clothing but we will give the Chinese a hot reception if they dare to attack. Will tell you all about it, IF and WHEN we meet again, I don't know where you are but I wish we were better prepared.
With regards and best wishes,
Mahabir
His room mate, Cardozo, after the war was inspired to write a poem about his friend Mangat.
Do not wait for me when I am gone
Duty calls and I must go
For this last battle was I born
When our great country’s friend has turned a foe
Much has happened in recent times gone by
Blinkered vision blinds our leader’s eyes
They fail to heed our army’s desperate cry
Disabled minds prefer our neighbour’s lies
To understand our Army’s basic need
Our leaders do not even seem to try
To do or die has been our basic creed
And not to question how or when or why
This brigade is tasked to face first blow
We fight with old and antiquated arms
We’re up against a far superior foe
On ground dictated by their forceful terms
This battleground in which we now are placed
Below the enemy’s dominating ground
A malignant Chinese force is what we face
With all advantage in their favour found
Wars only start when leaders fail
When armies are allowed to lose their strength
When governance permits itself to become frail
And fails to execute the role for which it’s meant
We know that we are in a desperate state
There is no way that we can save the day
Leaders far away decide our fate
Ignorant of the need for better ways
To further complicate the game
The enemy continues to call the shots
And to our everlasting shame
We have no game, no plan, no plot
Daily we see the Chinese army grow
They now have massed on Upper Thagla hill
We’re badly placed in positions down below
No mines, no guns no winter clothing still
Winter’s cold and icy hand of death.
Has announced its presence in skies no longer blue
And all we do is wait with baited breath
For death to strike across the Namkachu
When we are gone it’s only this we ask
A chance to snatch fair victory from the jaws of death
To give our sons the means so they can do their task
In defending freedom with every mortal breath.
- Maj Gen Cardozo
Brig lakshman Singh VSM (Retd)
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