The word ‘camp’ conjured images of a leisurely and enjoyable experience in Nutty’s mind. It was only later that she realized it was foolish to harbour such expectations. During the camps in the first term, they had gone through several minor exercises that required them to practice many of the lessons taught in the theory classes. The final camp was different.
The final camp was a big pain for the LCs. Apart from all other routine drills, parades and exercises, this camp involved long and strenuous trekking through all kinds of terrains, while carrying all the kinds of equipment and accessories that the sadistic instructors could think of. Physically draining and mentally demanding, the camp was geared to take a toll on their already fatigued bodies.
The long treks and minor exercises they had undertaken earlier had taught them to find their way out of dense jungles, to make their way through impenetrable undergrowth, and complete their tasks within the tight deadlines laid out by the cruel DSs. Pitching tents within five minutes was no longer considered an achievement, but a routine affair. Map reading, long marches, night navigation, handling different kinds of weapons, night firing, nothing remained a challenge. Everything that had once been thrilling was now a pain. Most exercises were designed to test human endurance, but they failed to whip up enthusiasm in the cadets. Even the idea of living in tents failed to hold exciting possibilities for the LCs.
This particular exercise was supposed to be the toughest of all exercises. It was also the last one before their Passing out Parade. It was to be conducted in the undulating hills of the Western Ghats, away from human habitation, about 150 kilometres from the OTA campus. While everyone grumbled and complained, the only ones excited with the prospect of the camp were Cockroach and her chamchi.
The general’s daughter had performed well in every sphere of the training and was confident of beating her closest rival, Billi. Like the Haryanvi lass, Cockroach was also aiming for the Sword of Honour. As of now, Billi was trailing by one mark. Elated with her success, Cockroach was bent upon retaining her edge.
The footballer knew how the dice were loaded, but she wasn’t about to give up without a fight. She had been watching her rival closely and knew that the girl was excellent in theory, but when it came to practical application, she was not unbeatable. Surprisingly, Cockroach seemed to know all about the training and the things to come well in advance. This prepared her for every obstacle.
It was during the class ‘Operations of War’, that Billi realized the excellent knowledge of her rival. The girl knew everything about warfare in mountains, plains and deserts. She also knew all about attack, defence, raid, ambush and infiltration in all types of terrain, and there was no doubt that she had come well prepared and possessed all the PCKs. All the LCs and even the instructors were impressed with the knowledge the general’s daughter revealed. Not just the theory, she had done well in the firing tests too.
Word had spread in their first term itself. Her father had served as an instructor at NDA, and he had done a good job of teaching her about the practical aspects of the so called ‘Operations of War’. She met her Waterloo when it came to the practicals.
Billi had a definite edge in some aspects of the training. She had displayed an astute mind while introducing the sand model and given out orders for the attack with aplomb. With that, the battle lines had been drawn. The only way to beat Cockroach was to excel in the outdoor exercises.
That morning, things were busier than usual. Although they were accustomed to rising early, that day began a trifle too early for their liking. Dawn had yet to break when the LCs clambered into army trucks, which in all fairness, should have been retired a decade ago. Sighing, they settled down for a bumpy ride. The convoy left the main road and wound its way through mountainous terrain, with the loose parts of the vehicle making noise.
The journey to the campsite was long and bone-rattling. Most army drivers give a damn about the conditions of the road and the vehicle, their only goal is to reach the destination by the specified time. It was an agonizing experience to be bounced about like marionettes on a string. What had begun as a pleasure journey, with much singing and jesting, soon turned into a silent one. All one could hear was an occasional grunt or a curse as the vehicle lurched over a hurdle. A few gluttons like Nutty lay spread-eagled on the floorboard, their bellies burdened by dozens of aloo parathas. Some smart ones, who had mastered the art of sleeping on any turf, through a tsunami, nodded off, their bodies swaying in rhythm with the movement of the vehicle.
The cadets finally reached the exercise area around lunch time. They unloaded their equipment and began to toil. Tents had to be pitched, snake pits dug, equipment organized.
It was at this stage that the clouds began building up, and the sky darkened. This was followed by a welcome drizzle, as the atmosphere began to cool.
Harshali, who was known as the ‘baby of the course’, stood in the open and turned her face up to enjoy the drizzle. A few others joined her, while the rest ran for cover.
A strong blast of wind threatened to blow them away. The tents swayed and seemed to fold up. The LCs needed to work together to keep them from collapsing. It was a couple of hours before the wind died, but clouds continued to hover threateningly above them.
All hopes of having a good time vanished when the cadets were handed over the schedule. Everything they had learnt in their theory classes was to be translated into action. The tactics, battle plans, route marches, long runs, almost everything would be covered in the various exercises that would take place during the camp. The infiltration exercises, night raids, cordon and search exercises involved good planning and execution skills.
In spite of the bad weather, there was no change in the schedule. The cadets were ordered to march to the mock village that stood many kilometres away. The village was to be cordoned and searched. Orders were given, and the cadets lined up to march through the inhospitable terrain. Stumbling over brambles and uneven landscape, weighed down with the heavy equipment, they began trekking in the dark.
‘This is a bloody nuisance,’ complained Nutty, pausing to scratch her leg. ‘Imagine marching through thorny areas, dressed in a bloody battle dress and weighed down with a heavy backpack.’
‘Stop wasting your breath,’ admonished Shiny. ‘This is the last camp and we have to perform better than the others.’
‘How can I bloody perform when I don’t even know who’s the fucking enemy?’ Nutty shouted. Six of them were walking in a single file with Billi leading. Apart from the four friends, Kiran and Jyoti were in the group of girls. Somewhere on the way, thanks to their idea of taking a shortcut, their group had become separated from the rest of their course-mates. Now, they were trying to come up with a strategy of their own.
‘We’ll find out when we reach the mock village,’ Billi shouted back at Nutty. ‘Now, just concentrate on finding your way there. There will be a lot of trouble if we get lost. As it is, thanks to you, we have managed to lag behind the others.’
‘It was not my fucking fault,’ justified the obstinate girl. ‘If I need to pee, I need to pee. It’s the bloody uniform, which makes it difficult. Boys have it easy.’
‘So, who wants to halt for biscuits?’ asked Lucky.
‘Yeah, I am bloody hungry. You guys didn’t let me have enough food because you said it would slow me down.’
‘Four stuffed parathas and three boiled eggs,’ Lucky rolled her eyes in the dark. ‘Save your energy, Nutty.’
‘Do you think there are snakes in this area?’ Nutty suddenly halted in her tracks as the thought of a reptilian attack came to her mind.
‘Will you shut up?’ Shiny shouted in the dark. She hated snakes.
‘Silence!’ shouted Billi. ‘Hold the torch over the map. I think we are lost.’
That brought the group to a sudden halt. Getting lost was the last thing on their minds. Poring over the map, they argued over which direction to take. In the end, it was Shiny who decided the course of their trek. They continued tramping for another hour, wondering if they were on the correct route. Then, they sighted the temporary shacks of the mock village.
To their delight, none of the other teams had reached yet.
Cautiously and stealthily, they crept closer to the shacks, intent on startling the fellows inside. The fake terrorists hiding in the mock village would be ready and waiting for the raiders as instructed.
‘Remember what the DS taught us,’ Billi whispered to her group. ‘Stealth and surprise are the most important elements of an attack. Take the enemy by surprise, and don’t allow anyone to get away. Victory will be yours if you follow the lessons taught in the theory classes.’
‘Victory!’ shouted Nutty, pumping her fist with josh.
‘Be silent, you idiot,’ hissed Shiny. ‘Didn’t you hear a word of Billi’s order? Stealth and surprise are the keywords.’
‘Since you are so full of josh, we will allow you to lead,’ Billi pushed Nutty towards the shack. ‘Remember, no one is to be allowed to get away. We are right behind you.’
Enthused with the prospect of leading for the first time, Nutty squared her shoulders and led the charge. Bursting into the first shack, she ran into a figure crouching in the darkness. Summoning all her power, she charged headlong and collided into the person. She was so enthused that she forgot it was a mock exercise with a mock terrorist. In her excitement, she imagined herself attacking a real terrorist hiding in a house in Kashmir. Letting loose a volley of abuses, she boxed and kicked the person who she had caught. From her vocabulary to her feet and hands, she used every arsenal in her kitty.
Instead of surrendering, the mock terrorist dodged her attacks skillfully.
‘Saala chhachhundar,’ she shouted, frustrated at being thwarted in her attempts. Spitting expletives, Nutty fought like a wildcat. She headbutted his stomach. The chap responded by landing a heavy blow that caused Nutty to fly across the room.
Refusing to give up, she got to her feet and attacked the fellow once more.
Jyoti, who had followed Nutty into the shack, joined forces with her. Together, they brought the terrorist on his knees.
‘Hands up!’ Nutty shouted triumphantly.
Minutes later, her rifle pressing against his back, she led the mock terrorist out of the shack. The rest of the group emerged from the other shacks and surrounded them.
‘Shabaash, cadets!’ shouted the captured terrorist, and removed the piece of black cloth tied around his face.
Aghast, they stared at him. The terrorist was none other than their WT Ustad. ‘Shabaash, cadets!’ he repeated, rubbing his aching ribs.
The next morning, the story of Nutty’s feat spread all over the camp, drawing praise from the DSs as well as ustads.
‘I had realized it was WT Ustad, and so I was bent upon getting my bloody revenge,’ she boasted.
It was a lie, of course.