By V Srihari
There is indeed no nobler profession than that of the arms in which a uniformed soldier will, if necessary, willingly lay down his life for a National cause. Some years back, I was fortunate to be part of a United Nations peace keeping Mission in Sudan. It was on one of my exploratory weekend outings around Khartoum, the capital city along the Nile river that I chanced upon a rather well maintained Commonwealth War Memorial, with grave stones bearing Regimental insignia and a wall bearing some names. On curious inspection, I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that the wall had upon it, row upon row of names of those Indian soldiers who had died in action in battles in Eritrea and Sudan in the Second World War and whose bodies were never recovered. Interestingly, while all other nationalities were on one side, it was the memorial to the Indian soldiers that occupied a central place of honour.
In addition to being magnificently maintained, complete with a lush green lawn in Sub-Saharan climate, I learnt that the memorial was visited by a Commonwealth delegation for a wreath laying ceremony every year. It was poignant to note that these were not merely names, but a roll call of heroes who had lived up to the best traditions of their Regiment and Army; men who had laid down their lives fighting for a colonial ruler on a foreign battlefield. Most touching was the fact that, after so many years, it was the same former colonial power that continued to unhesitatingly, and regularly honour even those foreign soldiers who fought, and died, under its flag at its bidding. Obviously, I spent the rest of the evening giving a gist of the Indian Army’s history to two fellow “Blue Berets”- German army officers who had accompanied me to the War Memorial and who could not figure what on earth a War Memorial to dead Indian Army soldiers was doing in Africa !! Later, I could not help, but compare with the story back home, where no National Memorial exists for those men in uniform who died defending not a foreign interest, but the very sovereignty and honour of an independent India. The only heroes are those that did'nt come back. What do we, as a Nation, do to remember our heroes who fell? Call them "dogs"? Maybe we don't really deserve our heroes. Maybe we all have a tendency to forget and move on, but there definitely was a lesson in martial pride and rememberance to be learnt in that modest little graveyard tucked away in the corner of a dusty African city. While it certainly made me feel prouder of the uniform I wear, perhaps it is a message that the powers-to-be may wish to keep in mind.
By V Srihari