Monday, December 30, 2019

Odds and ends


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.”
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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.

Saturday, December 28, 2019

1960 Medical entrants, Colombo, Batch blog.


1.      Please click on the underlined batch blog to see the home web-page.


2.      Click on the red title - Older posts - in the bottom right hand page to see earlier postings up to the start of this blog in March 2009.

3.      Look at the box saying - Search this blog - on the right hand side of each page - and type what you want to search for eg.your name, or reunion, subject etc


4.      You can see the listings of the blog posts in alphabetical order in red on the right-hand side of each page, under the heading Blog Archives. You can scroll down searching for any posting that you are interested in. Click on that particular link to see the posting.


5. Under the title, My Blogs, you can see all the blogs that I publish. Click on each of them to read the posts in each one.

Hope you enjoy watching the pages of this blog on the doings of the 1960 batch entrants, Medical Faculty, Kinsey Road.

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Philip Veerasingam

Odds and ends