The Soldiers General

Sam Bahadur is dead, the Manekshaw mystique is immortal. As long as the Indian Army retains its traditions and ethos, memories of its first Field Marshal will serve to inspire, remain a matter of honour and pride. For even while his critics – greatness always attracts them – might question his strategic capabilities they would have no hesitation in attesting to a unique hallmark: he was an unrivalled leader of men. The soldier's general, he went on to become the outstanding personality of his time. Even if he had not led India to the most decisive military victory in its history, Sam would have left an indelible impression on everyone who interacted with him. To few others would the term "living legend" have been so perfectly applicable.

Legend, however, is no respecter of fact and such was Sam's aura that exaggerated stories about him abound and few challenged their authenticity. He certainly did not, and relished basking in glory. Not for him was a mistaken sense of humility, yet he was devoid of even a trace of arrogance and blessed in abundance with that priceless but rare capacity to laugh at himself. The man who clashed with Krishna Menon, had a lively relationship with Indira Gandhi could also be gentle. He would kneel or bend when talking to a child – to establish eye-contact that endeared.

For the record, SHFJ Manekshaw was born on 3 April 1914 in Amristar, educated at Sherwood College, Nainital and was among the first batch of Indian Commissioned Officers in 1934. He won a Military Cross in Burma – Maj Gen Cowans taking his own medal from his tunic to decorate the young officer on a hospital bed – organized the airlift to Srinagar in 1947, fought the Chinese, and of course, won the 1971 War. For which he was elevated a Padma Vibhushan and then promoted the Indian Army's first Field Marshal. In between he came close to being sacked by the acerbic Krishna Menon.

The record, impressive though it is, however is not what Sam Manekshaw was all about. His singular magic is not to be measured by decorations earned, appointments held or other such mundane accomplishments by which lesser mortals are evaluated. He was a man who could be ruthlessly efficient, and critical to that efficiency was getting the right man to do the right job – such as leaving much of the planning for the Bangladesh Operations to Lieutenant General JFR Jacob, then Chief of Staff at Headquarters, Eastern Command.

Sam was not a Gorkha by birth having been commissioned into the Frontier Force Rifles that went to the Pakistan Army when assets were divided at Independence/Partition. But the men with slouch hats never had a more illustrious "adopted son". He loved them, they loved him. He once declared that a man who said he had never known fear was "either a liar – or a Gorkha". Not surprisingly, at his last public function in the Capital to mark his entering his 90th year he cut his birthday cake with silver khukri!

While he was ever upright – in every sense of the word – Sam was no puritan. When the Army Commander visited him in hospital in Burma and asked if he wanted anything, he sought "two Scotches before dinner". He once confessed that he and his wife used separate bedrooms since she could not put up with his snoring -- adding that "funny, no other woman has complained." Yet he respected others, and when attending a function in a Delhi school in 1972 he bowed before a lady who had been his teacher at Sherwood.

A darling of the media he was, and it came so naturally. On the eve of his becoming Army Chief he noted a leading photograph stooping low to "shoot" him at a particular angle. Manekshaw offered to even stand on his head if that would guarantee his picture on the front page. The media, alas, also got him into hot water. An interviewer (after the 1971 war) asked what would have happened had he gone with his regiment to the Pakistan army. "Then Pakistan would have won the war" he chuckled. Cold print did not reflect the warmth of his humour and New Delhi's politician's turned the heat on him.

A darling of his men too. Story goes that when Naga rebels took a Gorkha captive he rushed to the area, berated his subordinates, insisted on preparations to "take out" the village, only to be unofficially informed that the Gorkha was actually philandering there. The "capture" had been shown to cover up his absence. Messages went out and the soldier returned, to face much flak from his officers. Sam only embraced the guy, and in a whisper queried, "was she worth it, son". Who would not die for that kind of a leader?

Manekshaw's passing to the battlefield of beyond will, undoubtedly, be mourned across a vast spectrum of humanity, even soldiers of the army he "defeated" would acknowledge how he kept his promise on the treatment of prisoners-of-war. Sam would probably chuckle at all the tributes paid to him, for he could actually be shy on occasions. All he would seek – nay demand – as a mark of respect was that India always honours its soldiers and, in return, the army ever proves itself worthy of that honour.

KEITH FLORY