Indian army chief’s war talk
By A.R. Siddiqi
IT is rare and quite a bit odd for an Indian army chief to indulge in war talk as offensively as Gen S. Padmanabhan has in a recent press statement. The one glaring exception had been the notorious statement of Gen J.N. Choudhuri (1962-63). On Sept 6-7, 1965, promising his men a victory bash (chhota pegs) at the Lahore Gymkhana within less than 48 hours of his invasion of Pakistan across the international border. But that was in the thick of a general war when an army chief can say anything he likes to boost up the morale of his troops and get away with it.
Two other relatively less glaring examples of the Indian army chief thinking loudly and talking louder still were attributed to Gen Sam Manekshaw (1969-72) and S.F. Rodrigues (1990-1993). Manekshaw (later Field Marshal), the victor of the 1971 war, blasted that but for him India could not have won the fateful war. Victory would have been Pakistan’s had he been in command of its army.
Gen Rodriguez, while arguing for the army’s role as a partner in national affairs, also made some rude remarks about China and Pakistan. The word he used was ‘bandicoots’ for both.
Manekshaw incurred the displeasure of prime minister Indira Gandhi for conduct unbecoming. Rodriguez made the Indian parliamentarians hit the ceiling of the house. While Manekshaw got the Queen’s pardon for his war performance, Rodriguez had to apologize even if he had been misreported.
Looking every inch a vintage officer and a gentleman in his media pictures, Gen Padmanabhan should be the last man to take the bit between his teeth and venture a singularly provocative and ill-timed statement amounting to an ultimatum to Pakistan. Provocative for its threatening tone and content and ill-timed for coming at a time when the clouds of war appeared to be thinning out.
In a language more befitting a warlord than a politically-led army chief, Padmanabhan told his Doordarshan TV interviewer: “My troops are there (at the border). Their troops are there on the border. New Delhi would be left with no option but take some action if Pakistan did not end cross-border infiltration into disputed Kashmir”. His pronounced accent on ‘My troops’ though not unusual for an army commander to use for his men ill-fitted his status as the chief of a national rather than a private army.
His blunt answer to the question, if ‘hostilities’ between India and Pakistan had ‘receded,’ was a thundering ‘Absolutely not’. It was ‘imperative’ for Pakistan, he said, to fulfil its commitment to end infiltration into Jammu and Kashmir. He would settle nothing less than the dismantlement by Pakistan of the entire terrorism infrastructure on its side of the LoC.
Padmanabhan’s somewhat impulsive statement raises two main questions. First, exactly what might be his own definition of ‘terrorism infrastructure’? Second, what role would he like to assign to his own men to stop whatever infiltration might have been allegedly taking place from the Pakistan side?
Would not the continuing cross-border (LoC) infiltration amount to an open confession of the failure of his own troops in securing their side of the fence?
A similar situation arising in the course of a real war would be absolutely alarming with one side pressing home its attacks and the other failing to throw the attackers (in this case infiltrators) back?
The inability of Padmanabhan’s army to stop the cross-border forays become all the more glaring in view of its massive deployment in terms of men and materials.
For the first time the Indian army has deployed land- based radars locating guns and men all the way up and down the battlefield and beyond. With such hi-tech equipment installed and tactically operationalized, there is little excuse for the Indian army chief, his field commanders and their men to accuse Pakistan of continuing cross-LoC violations and the movement — infiltration / exfiltration of the militants — back and forth.
The battlefield short-range surveillance radar can detect ‘multiple target’ such as a man walking or crawling and guns and light-combat vehicles.
Would it not then be yet another example — a la Kargil — or the incredible failure of Indian’s own intelligence and front- line troops in plugging the loopholes in their own operational plans? Accepting the Indian hypothesis that Kargil was launched about the time Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee made his bus yatra to Lahore on Feb 20, 2000, Indian intelligence would get their first source report of the episode as late as the first week of May, and
that too from a herdsman espying some ‘strangers’ in the area.
While the Indian army chief would not hesitate to admit that infiltration had ‘reduced by a margin,’ he would ‘require a lot more on the part of the other side to dismantle the entire terrorism infrastructure before infiltration comes down to a trickle ....’.
The question finally is, what might have driven the gentle Gen Padmanabhan to raise the battle cry when the prospects of peace had begun to loom a little on the horizon? One could easily see the big hand and peremptory dictation of L.K. Advani after assuming the dual charge of deputy prime minister and home minister. Advani would hardly wait to pre-empt and sabotage anything coming closer to a peace initiative.
The author is a retired brigadier

