General Patton

Recently I was reminded of General Patton’s speech to his troops. I have been pondering the matter of urban educated Indians and their apparent apathy towards participating in the political process that fundamentally affects the way India is and how it is going to be. India lacks effective leadership.

There are those who call themselves leaders but they are a sorry bunch. They are leaders because India does not have real leaders: men and women of vision, passion, intelligence and integrity. Just consider the man (I use that word loosely and with some hesitation) who heads the government. Hard to use words like vision, passion, intelligence, and integrity in connection with him, isn’t it?

Leaders inspire, they move the people to action, they make people get up and get the important bits done. In our case, we have ersatz leaders. They bear the same resemblance to a real leader as a cardboard cutout of the Superman bears to a man.

That brought to mind the speech that General George S Patton, Jr gave to the American soldiers of the 6th Armored Division in England on 31st May 1944.

Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. You won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.

Men, all this stuff you’ve heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans, love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball players, the toughest boxers …

Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn’t give a hoot in Hell for a man who lost and laughed. That’s why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. Because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans.

Now, an army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The Bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post, don’t know anything more about real battle than they do about fornicating.

Now we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know … My God, I actually pity those poor bastards we’re going up against. My God, I do. We’re not just going to shoot the bastards, we’re going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We’re going to murder those lousy Hun bastards by the bushel.

Now some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you’ll chicken out under fire. Don’t worry about it. I can assure you that you’ll all do your duty. The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood, shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo, that a moment before was your best friends face, you’ll know what to do.

Now there’s another thing I want you to remember. I don’t want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We’re not holding anything, we’ll let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly, and we’re not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy.We’re going to kick the hell out of him all the time, and we’re going to go through him like crap through a goose. We’re going to hold onto him by the nose, and we’re going to kick him in the ass.

Now, there’s one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home, and you may thank God for it.

Thirty years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you, What did you do in the great World War Two? You won’t have to say, Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana.

Alright now, you sons of bitches, you know how I feel. I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle anytime, anywhere. That’s all.

Patton was a warrior and an American hero.

India too has warrior heroes by the truckloads — from the fabled Arjuna who fought on the battlefield of Kurukshetra (with a little bit of help from his friend and mentor Sri Krishna), to Emperor Ashoka, to Shivaji Maharaj, to Jhansi ki Rani, to Subhas Chandra Bose, to the unknown soldiers that fought bravely in the many wars that India was forced into by its friendly neighbour.

I find it curious that Americans make movies about heroes like General Patton. But when it comes to India, the movies are about Gandhi and his pacifism in the face of the enemy. This needs to change.

What India needs now is the emergence of a leader who is a true warrior. We need a leader who is not afraid, and who can light a fire in the bellies of Indians.

The Last Post

The Last Post

If you have ever been to a military funeral in which The Last Post was played; this will bring a new meaning to it.
Here is something everyone should know. Until I read this, I didn't know, but I checked it out and it's true:
We have all heard the haunting song, 'The Last Post.' It's the song that gives us the lump in our throats and usually tears in our eyes.

But, do you know the story behind the song? If not, I think you will be interested to find out about its humble beginnings.
Reportedly, it all began in 1862 during the American Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's Landing in Virginia . The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land.
During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay severely wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment.
When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead.
The Captain lit a lantern and suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his own son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, the boy enlisted in the Confederate Army.
The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial, despite his enemy status. His request was only partially granted.
The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral.
The request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate. But, out of respect for the father, they did say they could give him only one musician.
The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of the dead youth's uniform. This wish was granted.


The haunting melody, we now know as 'The Last Post' used at military funerals was born.
The words are:

Day is done. Gone the sun.
From the lakes. From the hills. From the sky. All is well.
Safely rest. God is nigh. Fading light
Dims the sight. And a star. Gems the sky. Gleaming bright.
From a far. Drawing nigh. Falls the night.
Thanks and praise. For our days.
Neath the sun. Neath the stars. Neath the sky
As we go. This we know. God is nigh


I too have felt the chills while listening to 'The Last Post' but I have never seen all the words to the song until now. I didn't even know there was more than one verse. I also never knew the story behind the song. I now have an even deeper respect for the song than I did before.


Remember Those Lost and Harmed While Serving Their Country.
Also Remember Those Who Have Served and Returned; and for those presently serving in the Armed Forces.

A soldier died today

A Poem Worth Reading


He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the VFW,
Telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a Soldier died today.

He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.

He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'Tho a Soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.

Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young
But the passing of a Soldier
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Some jerk who breaks his promise
And cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life?

The politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.

While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And perhaps a pension, small..

It's so easy to forget them,
For it is so many times
That our Bobs and Jims and Johnnys,
Went to battle, but we know,

It is not the politicians
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom
That our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand?

Or would you want a Soldier--
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who would fight until the end.

He was just a common Soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say:
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A SOLDIER DIED TODAY.."



Pass On The Patriotism!
YOU can make a difference…

Signpost put up by the Indian Army at one of the highest passes in the world......

A request from Dr Kalia, father of late Lt Saurabh Kalia

Dear Fellow INDIAN ,

SPARE 5-MINUTES from ur busy schedule .PLEASE !!!

Lt. Saurabh Kalia of 4 JAT Regiment of the Indian Army laid down his life at the young age of 22 for the nation while guarding the frontiers at Kargil. His parents, indeed the Indian Army and nation itself, lost a dedicated, honest and brave son.
He was the first officer to detect and inform about Pakistani intrusion. Pakistan captured him and his patrol party of 5 brave men alive on May 15, 1999 from the Indian side of LOC. They were kept in captivity for three weeks and subjected to unprecedented brutal torture, evident from their bodies handed over by Pakistan Army on June 9, 1999.
The Pakistanis indulged in dastardly acts of inflicting burns on these Indian officers with cigarettes, piercing their ears with hot rods, removing their eyes before puncturing them and breaking most of the bones and teeth. They even chopped off various limbs and private organs of the Indian soldiers besides inflicting unimaginable physical and mental torture.
After 22 days of torture, the brave soldiers were ultimately shot dead. A detailed post-mortem report is with the Indian Army. Pakistan dared to humiliate India this way flouting all international norms. They proved the extent to which they can degrade humanity. However, the Indian soldiers did not break while undergoing all this unimaginable barbarism, which speaks volumes of their patriotism, grit, determination, tenacity and valour - something all of India should be proud of.
Sacrificing oneself for the nation is an honour every soldier would be proud of, but no parent, army or nation can accept what happened to these brave sons of India . I am afraid every parent may think twice to send their child in the armed forces if we all fall short of our duty in safeguarding the PRISONERS OF WAR AND LET THEM MEET THE FATE OF LT.SAURABH KALIA.
It may also send a demoralising signal to the army personnel fighting for the Nation that our POWs in Pak cannot be taken care of. It is a matter of shame and disgust that most of Indian Human Rights Organisations by and large, showed apathy in this matter.
Through this humble submission, may I appeal to all the civilized people irrespective of colour, caste, region, religion and political lineage to stir their conscience and rise to take this as a NATIONAL ISSUE !!!
International Human Rights Organizations must be approached to expose and
pressure Pakistan to identify, book and punish all those who perpetrated this heinous crime to our men in uniform.
If Pakistan is allowed to go unpunished in this case, we can only imagine
the consequences.
Below is the list of 5 other soldiers who preferred to die for the country rather than open their mouths in front of enemy -
1. Sep. Arjun Ram s/o Sh. Chokka Ram; Village & PO Gudi.
Teh. & Dist. Nagaur, (Rajasthan)
2. Sep. Bhanwar Lal Bagaria h/o Smt. Santosh Devi; Village Sivelara;
Teh.& Dist.Sikar (Rajasthan)
3. Sep. Bhikaram h/o Smt. Bhawri Devi; Village Patasar;
Teh. Pachpatva;Distt. Barmer (Rajasthan)
4. Sep. Moola Ram h/o Smt. Rameshwari Devi; Village Katori;
Teh. Jayal;Dist. Nagaur(Rajasthan)
5. Sep. Naresh Singh h/o Smt. Kalpana Devi; Village Chhoti Tallam;
Teh.Iglab; Dist.Aligarh (UP)
Yours truly,
Dr. N.K. Kalia (Lt. Saurabh Kalia's father).
Saurabh Nagar,
Palampur-176061
Himachal Pradesh
Tel: +91 (01894) 32065

Let us give a supporting hand to Dr. Kalia in his efforts to get justice.
Remember, Lt. Kalia and his colleagues died on the front so that we could
sleep peacefully in our homes.

In The Line of Fire

Do spare a few moments to read through the text. We all have pressures in life we are all in the line of fire.

Subject: in the line of fire......

Vivek Pradhan was not a happy man.. Even the plush comfort of the air-conditioned compartment of the Shatabdi express could not cool his frayed nerves. He was the Project Manager and still not entitled to air travel. It was not the prestige he sought, he had tried to reason with the admin person, it was the savings in time. As PM, he had so many things to do!!
He opened his case and took out the laptop, determined to put the time to some good use.
'Are you from the software industry sir?' the man beside him was staring appreciatively at the laptop. Vivek glanced briefly and mumbled in affirmation, handling the laptop now with exaggerated care and importance as if it were an expensive car.

'You people have brought so much advancement to the country, Sir. Today everything is getting computerized. '

'Thanks,' smiled Vivek, turning around to give the man a look. He always found it difficult to resist appreciation. The man was young and stockily built like a sportsman... .. He looked simple and strangely out of place in that little lap of luxury like a small town boy in a prep school. He probably was a railway sportsman making the most of his free traveling pass.

'You people always amaze me,' the man continued, 'You sit in an office and write something on a computer and it does so many big things outside.'

Vivek smiled deprecatingly. Naiveness demanded reasoning not anger.
'It is not as simple as that my friend. It is not just a question of
writing a few lines. There is a lot of process that goes behind it.'

For a moment, he was tempted to explain the entire Software
Development Lifecycle but restrained himself to a single statement.
'It is complex, very complex.'

'It has to be. No wonder you people are so highly paid,' came the reply.

This was not turning out as Vivek had thought. A hint of belligerence crept into his so far affable, persuasive tone.

'Everyone just sees the money. No one sees the amount of hard work we have to put in. Indians have such a narrow concept of hard work. Just because we sit in an air-conditioned office, does not mean our brows do not sweat. You exercise the muscle; we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less taxing.'

He could see, he had the man where he wanted, and it was time to drive home the point. 'Let me give you an example. Take this train. The entire railway reservation system is computerized. You can book a train ticket between any two stations from any of the hundreds of computerized
booking centers across the country.
Thousands of transactions accessing a single database, at a time concurrently; data integrity, locking, data security. Do you understand the complexity in designing and coding such a system?'

The man was awestruck; quite like a child at a planetarium. This was something big and beyond his imagination.

'You design and code such things?'

'I used to,' Vivek paused for effect, 'but now I am the Project Manager.'
'Oh!' sighed the man, as if the storm had passed over, 'so your life is easy now.'
This was like the last straw for Vivek. He retorted, 'Oh come on, does life ever get easy as you go up the ladder. Responsibility only brings
more work. Design and coding! That is the easier part. Now I do not do it, but I am responsible for it and believe me, that is far more stressful. My job is to get the work done in time and with the highest quality.
To tell you about the pressures, there is the customer at one end, always changing his requirements, the user at the other, wanting something else, and your boss, always expecting you to have finished it yesterday.'

Vivek paused in his diatribe, his belligerence fading with
self-realization. What he had said, was not merely the outburst of a wronged man, it was the truth. And one need not get angry while defending the truth.

'My friend,' he concluded triumphantly, 'you don't know what it is to be in the Line of Fire'.

The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realization.
When he spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised Vivek.

'I know sir,..... I know what it is to be in the Line of Fire......'

He was staring blankly, as if no passenger, no train existed, just a vast expanse of time.

'There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in the cover of the night.
The enemy was firing from the top.

There was no knowing where the next bullet was going to come from and for whom.
In the morning when we finally hoisted the tri-colour at the top only 4 of us were alive.'

'You are a...?'

'I am Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in
Kargil. They tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a soft
assignment.
But, tell me sir, can one give up duty just because it makes life easier?

On the dawn of that capture, one of my colleagues lay injured in the
snow, open to enemy fire while we were hiding behind a bunker.
It was my job to go and fetch that soldier to safety. But my captain
sahib refused me permission and went ahead himself.

He said that the first pledge he had taken as a Gentleman Cadet was to
put the safety and welfare of the nation foremost followed by the
safety and welfare of the men he commanded... ....his own personal
safety came last, always and every time.'


'He was killed ...as he shielded and brought that injured soldier into
the bunker.. Every morning thereafter, as we stood guard, I could see
him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for me . I
know sir....I know, what it is to be in the Line of Fire.'

Vivek looked at him in disbelief not sure of how to respond. Abruptly,
he switched off the laptop.
It seemed trivial, even insulting to edit a Word document in the
presence of a man for whom valour and duty was a daily part of life;
valour and sense of duty which he had so far attributed only to epical
heroes.

The train slowed down as it pulled into the station, and Subedar

Sushant picked up his bags to alight.

'It was nice meeting you sir.'

Vivek fumbled with the handshake.
This hand... had climbed mountains, pressed the trigger, and hoisted
the tri-colour. Suddenly, as if by impulse, he stood up at attention
and his right hand went up in an impromptu salute....

It was the least he felt he could do for the country.

The incident he narrated during the capture of Peak 4875 is a
true-life incident during the Kargil war.

BE POLITE & EVERYONE YOU MEET IS FIGHTING A HARD BATTLE.

Live humbly & there are great people around us.

ps. if ur eyes turned moist it's probably because the computer screen is too bright !!