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Arrogant blunders
By Ahmad Faruqui

I discussed the military mind during President Ayub Khan’s period last week. Let us now turn to the succeeding period, by relying upon Brig A R Siddiqi’s recollections, ‘East Pakistan: The Endgame, An Onlooker’s Journal: 1969-71’; Siddiqi served as the president’s press advisor.

Siddiqi’s narrative begins when Ayub, fatigued by nationwide protests over his ten year rule, asked the army chief to “fulfil his constitutional duties” and declare martial law. General Yahya Khan, in his first address to the nation on March 25, 1969 said that only the armed forces “can restore sanity and put the country back on the road to progress in a civil and constitutional manner.” Thus unfolded an oxymoronic drama that continues to this day.

The landslide victory of the Awami League caught the military off-guard. In February, in connivance with Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s PPP, the generals delayed the convening of the National Assembly, triggering large scale protests in East Pakistan.

Bhutto fatuously suggested Pakistan needed two prime ministers and threatened to break the legs of anyone who went to Dhaka. Behind the scenes, the GHQ put Plan B into place, envisioning military action. It spelled the death knell, not just for democracy, but for Jinnah’s Pakistan.

On March 6, 1971, as events spun out of control, Yahya said that the armed forces were honour-bound to “ensure the integrity, solidarity and security of Pakistan—a duty in which they have never failed.” Operation Searchlight was launched on March 25, 1971, which was also the second anniversary of the second martial law. Mujibur Rehman, the only Awami League leader to be captured, was brought to West Pakistan. By imprisoning him, the generals thought they had routed the enemy.

In the months to come, they denied that a civil war was taking place. By this time, writes Siddiqi, “The army had ... gone berserk. Young officers had become trigger-happy.”

The army began conducting murderous “sweeps” in which whole villages were targeted. The “whiff of grapeshot” had turned into a fusillade of death. General Niazi did not deny that rapes were being carried out and opined, in a Freudian tone, “You cannot expect a man to live, fight, and die in East Pakistan and go to Jhelum for sex, can you?”

In the midst of bedlam, there appeared “a macabre joke”, a government documentary called, “The Great Betrayal”. It was intended to show the evils carried out by the “miscreants”. But the footage of human skulls even irked Yahya’s sensitivities. He asked, “How could you differentiate between the two skulls — Bengalis and non-Bengalis? I am damned if I can tell one from the other.”

As the insurgency expanded, black protest flags replaced the national flag everywhere except in the cantonments. A furious general told Siddiqi, “No national army in the world has ever been subjected to such public humiliation”, but never wondered why matters had come to such a sorry pass.

In June, Yahya told the nation, “No government worth its name could allow the country to be destroyed by open and armed rebellion against the State.” The army’s onslaught continued to no avail. Finally, in November 1971, Mujib was sentenced to death.

A “Crush India” campaign was initiated in West Pakistan, since that was how the army intended to defend the Eastern wing. An effete top brass boasted of taking on India and defeating it.

On December 3, Siddiqi was given a coded signal, “The balloon has gone up” i.e. Pakistan Air Force had launched sorties into India. When he asked Air Marshal Rahim to justify the raids, he retorted, “Success is the biggest justification. My birds should be right over Agra by now, knocking the hell out of them.”

At GHQ, thinking they had won the war, the generals ordered a round of drinks “in an unbroken chain”. Imagining himself in a bar-room brawl, one gloated, “We will give the enemy a broken nose”. Even a teetotaller colonel who worked with Siddiqi “had a couple of stiff ones and downed them straight”.

An army thrust was directed at Indian forces in Ramgarh, from where Delhi was going to be an easy target. It suffered a serious setback. Even Chamb, the prize of the 1965 war, was not taken. The much awaited counter-offensive under General Tikka never took off.

It did not take the Chinese military attaché in Islamabad long to conclude that the war had come to an end, “The Indians are holding you on, waiting to get it over with in East Pakistan.”

As the denouement loomed, Gul Hassan asked Siddiqi to do his “usual PR stuff”. When the latter said he was at a loss for words, he was scripted, “The army was out-numbered, out-gunned but not out-classed. Cut off from its main base, it did what could be expected from the best of armies”.

On December 16, 1971, a terse statement was read on Radio Pakistan: “Under an arrangement between the commanders of India and Pakistan in the eastern theatre, Indian troops have entered Dhaka and fighting has ceased in East Pakistan.”

Siddiqi says that the endgame was the inevitable consequence of military mismanagement. There was some poetic justice. Yahya was dismissed and put under house arrest. The Supreme Court ruled that he was a usurper who treated the country like chattel. He developed paralysis and died in August 1979 after a prolonged illness. Hamid outlived Yahya by a number of years but died “unsung and un-mourned”.

But Siddiqi fails to note that there was no real justice. The independent commission report that had looked into the debacle recommended that Yahya and eleven generals who had caused the dismemberment of the country be court-martialled, saying it was not enough to retire them. The military suppressed the report for thirty years. One day, it suddenly popped up on “the other side of the hill”.

Ahmad Faruqui, an American economist, is the author of “Rethinking the National Security of Pakistan,” Ashgate Publishing, UK

Posted by: john frum 2007-09-23
http://www.rantburg.com/poparticle.php?ID=199944