Somewhere
over the rainbow
Chewing gum ancestry findings
Being a Gurka
12 May,
1945. Lachhiman Gurung, a 4-feet 11-inches tall soldier in the 8th Gurkha
Rifles, was manning a forward post in Taungdaw, Burma. Suddenly, 200 Japanese
soldiers swooped down to his post. Grenades started dropping left and right.
Gurung picked up the grenades and threw them right back to the enemy. A few
grenades later, one exploded in his hand, shattering the hand, parts of his
face, and a leg.
Gurung picked
up his bolt-action Lee-Enfield mark II rifle with his left hand and shouted,
“Come and fight.” They came and fought. And died. Rifleman Gurung kept firing
for hours, shouting “come and fight” throughout the night. In the morning,
support arrived to relieve him. There were no Japanese soldiers left by that
time. They found 87 bodies strewn around his post, with him still shouting
“come and fight.”
2 September,
2010. Bishnu Shrestha, a 5-feet 2-inches soldier in the 8th Gurkha Rifles, was
travelling by a train in West Bengal, India. Suddenly, 40 armed robbers
embarked and started looting and beating the passengers. Shrestha was off-duty.
He stood patiently observing the situation. Then the robbers made a serious
mistake. They started molesting an 18-year old girl.
Too much for
the rifleman. He pulled out his knife and leaped at the robbers, killing three
instantly and injuring eight others. He received a serious injury to his knife
hand in the fray. Facing his fearless ferocity, the rest of the robbers pulled
the chain and fled. Shrestha went over to the girl and asked, “Are you okay?”
17
September, 2010. Dipprasad Pun, a 5-feet 7-inches acting sergeant in the Royal
Gurkha Rifles, was on sentry duty in Babaji, Helmand in Afghanistan. Hearing
strange sounds nearby, he found Taliban militia planting bombs near his camp.
Before sergeant Pun could make any move, 30 Taliban militiamen descended on him
with RPGs and AK-47 guns.
Pun saw sure
death in front of him, so he decided to take as many he could with him. He
fought. First, he exhausted the 400 rounds of ammo he had, along with 17
grenades. When his ammo ran out, he set off a Claymore mine. But there still
were enemies left, so he resorted to using his rifle tripod as a weapon. After
17 minutes of fighting, there were no Taliban left.
An average
Gurkha soldier is a short and lean man. Nothing to be impressed about. But, 200
years back, when the Gurkhas were first incorporated into the British Army, a
soldier of the 87th Foot wrote in his memoirs: "I never saw more
steadiness or bravery exhibited in my life. Run they would not, and of death,
they seemed to have no fear, though their comrades were falling thick around
them".
A joke about
the Gurkha says that if a mule kicks a Gurkha in the head, the Gurkha gets a
headache and the mule gets a broken limb. One story tells that, when an Indian
Army doctor declared that his near-dead Gurkha patient can only live if he
shows enough will to survive, his commanding officer just went to the soldier
and commanded, “Live!” He lived.
Gurkhas have
served in every battle the British and Indian armies fought in the last 200
years, from the Syrian deserts to the freezing Falklands, and from the high
Himalayas to the forests of Borneo. 32,000 Gurkhas died in WWII alone, earning 2,734
bravery awards. The Gurkha Regiment has received 26 Victoria Crosses so far,
the highest for any British regiment. Hitler apparently once said, “If I had
the Gurkha, I could win the whole world.”
Gurkhas, an
umbrella term for a number of Nepalese people, claim their heritage back to the
9th century when they formed the elite force of Nepal. The British discovered
them during the Anglo-Nepalese War (1814–16). Already in conflict with China
and Tibet, the overstretched Nepalese army didn’t win, largely because of
technological differences between guns and swords.
Even when
the sword-wielding Gurkhas lost to the gun-toting British soldiers, they made
an impression. One Gurkha commander — Bhakti Thapa — surrounded by the British,
charged alone to take a cannon, slashing left and right with his knife and his
sword. By the the time he was stopped by a bullet through his heart, he had
killed dozens. And, he was 74 years old.
The British
were quick to recognize the merit of the fearless Gurkha, and in the treaty
that ensued, they demanded little land in exchange of the Gurkhas serving the
British Army. The battle cry of the Gurkha, “Jai Maha Kali, Ayo Gurkhali”
(Victory for goddess Kali, here comes the Gurkhali), is still a feared cry
across the world. Apparently, Argentine soldiers on Falklands left the island
as soon as they heard that the Gurkhas have arrived.
They are a
people who train all their lives on mountainous terrain, even if it is for
regular non-military stuff. 10,000 Gurkhas apply every year for 125 entries.
That’s a 1.25% acceptance rate, compared to 10% at West Point. For a Gurkha,
the army is the primary choice of occupation, not law or medicine or
shopkeeping.
The
selection is a process that feels just like a martial arts movie — 75 bench
jumps in one minute and 70 sit-ups in two minutes, followed by a 5-kilometre
run up a hill with 25 kilograms of rock and sand in a traditional doko basket
hanging at the back. They have to finish in under 55 minutes.
Generally,
the passing rate for Gurkhas at Combat Infantryman’s Course is 100%, with
flying colours. The Physical Fitness Test that requires a soldier to run 2.4
kilometres under 9:30 minutes is completed by an average Gurkha under 8
minutes. The secret of a Gurkha’s training is the kaida, a system of order,
ritual, and loyalty to officers and each other that is unquestioned. 99% of
Gurkhas are retained through the maximum service tenure of 22 years, the
highest for any army.
On top of
rifles and grenades, the Gurkhas carry the a simple weapon that really flames
their reputation — the 18-inch-long kukri knife. Every Gurkha soldier is issued
two of these legendary Gurkha blades, in commission since the 14th century. On
the Dussera festival, the Gurkha regiment slaughters a buffalo with a single
strike of the kukri, traditionally by the youngest recruit in the regiment. In
the past, it was used to collect bits of dead enemies.
According to
legends, once unsheathed, a kukri must taste blood. If the enemy dies,
surrenders, or flees before the kukri is used, then the Gurkha used to cut
himself to satisfy the bloodlust of the blade. In 2011, a 20-year-old Gurkha
private killed a highly sought-after Taliban commander whose body he wanted to
bring back for DNA identification. Failing to bring him in one piece, he used
his kukri and brought him back in a bag in little pieces.
The motto of
their creed is “Kaayar hunnu bhanda marnu ramro” (Better dead than live like a
coward). There have been rumors of them chopping off enemy heads, even drinking
their blood. But the average Gurkha off-battle is a gentle soul. Always polite,
courteous and helpful.
With all the
tales of their courage, skills and fearless ferocity through centuries of
history, the best comment on the Gurkhas were made by Field Marshal Sam
Manekshaw, Chief of Staff of Indian Army during the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation
War — “If anyone ever tells you he is never afraid, he is a liar or he is a
Gurkha.”
Great story
about the Gurkhas—probably a joke but captures the sense of them quite well in
my experience. A unit commander—a Brit—announces to his Gurkha platoon “today
we’ll be jumping out of airplanes at 500 feet.” His NCO’s huddle and then the
senior NCO approaches the Captain and inquires “Sir, would it be possible to
jump from 100 feet instead” to which the officer replies “Good heavens no
man—the parachute wouldn’t have time to deploy.” To which the Gurkha responded
with “ah, so we’ll be using parachutes then.”
When I was a
child in Canada there were stories about the Gurhkas. It was said that in WWI
they would sneak behind enemy lines at night. Slip past the German sentries
into the barracks where they were sleeping, slit the throats of every 10th man,
and leave undetected.
