Taken from the book 'Fangs of Ice – Story of Siachen' by Lt Col Ishfaq Ali
In the stillness of the night, Naib Subedar Atta Mohammad was awakened by the shrill screams of a desperate women crying for help. For a second he thought it was a nightmare, but his sharp and instant reflexes immediately woke him to the reality of the situation. Some gangsters were trying to kidnap a woman. Without losing any precious time he jumped out of his bed, barefooted he ran in the direction of the plaintive cries. Before the assaulters could realize what was happening, he had grabbed the rifle of one of the armed men and had sent him reeling on the ground with a flying-kick. The next man was dealt a blow in the ribs with the butt of the rifle. Before the other could react the battle was over and gun was staring the brigands in the face. Having unarmed them, he shepherded them into a room and sent for the police. His quick and intrepid action had helped save the life and honour of a respectable daughter of the soil.
This lion hearted man of iron nerves and steely fists had a soft and tender heart. He doted upon his children, loved his wife, looked after his mother and relatives, was kind to his neighbors and generous to his friends. Having chosen the army as his profession, he got recruited in the Army Services Corps in 1965 and then later in 1970, he was selected for the special services group. As a commando he often used to go on missions that were fraught with danger.
Thrice he had a close call but he would return unscathed. Perhaps nature was saving him for the crowning honour that he was to receive in the forty second year of his life. His company was now being sent to Siachen. Before leaving for the glaciated region Atta went to spend a few days at his village. On the last night at home, he asked his mother, Sami bibi, to wake him early in the morning. He had to catch the first bus for Rawalpindi from where he would go to his future destination. His mother lovingly asked enquired when he would be coming back. He told her this time it would be pretty long before he returned home. That night the whole family chatted for a long time. In the morning when Samo Bibi came to wake up her son, he was already out of bed and was on the prayer mat, offering his prayers. His mother told him it was a bit early for the morning prayer to which he laughingly remarked, ‘God accepts the ill-timed prayers of the travellers’. He picked up his ruck sack, kissed the foreheads of his sleeping children, touched the feet of his mother and left the house. After ten minutes he was again back. His mother felt surprised, it was not this wont to return after he had left. He told her he had come to fetch the blanket that he had forgotten to take along. Again he kissed the sleeping children and bade farewell to his wife and mother. He came back the third time. His daughter Kauser was sitting with her grandmother on the prayer mat. He felt pleased that she had gotten up for morning prayers. Atta’s mother asked ‘Atta what is the matter? It looks like as if you don’t want to go’. Atta told her the bus had not yet come so he thought of spending a few more moments with his family.
Having undergone the necessary travel and having reached Siachen, Atta was trudging along for his final destination. Heavily harnessed in thick American snowline equipment and survival-pack, he was heading a party of 4 SSG men who were to relieve their friends at the peak. The merger of their white robes with the vast whiteness of snow adequately prevented them from being picked up by enemy NVDs (Night Vision Devices) on the next ridge line. Mercury had fallen well below minus 30C. Freezing wind had induced a terribly painful numbness on their bodies, hands and feet being the worst- affected. Although it was intensely cold yet while they tussled with the ropes and trudged upward, their hands and feet started sweating in the thick gloves and warm socks. However, the outside temperature turned the sweat into thin crystals of ice which in their reverse effect bit their skin as if they had stepped on a mound of carnivorous ants. The misery of biting cold was further compounded by paucity of oxygen. Yet they must make it to the top before the luminous dawn removed the hazy curtain of night; so as to avoid being hit by the trigger-happy handlers of Vickers in the nearby enemy post located toward the South East. He cheerfully enquired the morale of his companions and giving a few minutes breather, asked them to get ready for the last 150 feet of sheer vertical ascent. His companions too were cheery and resolute. Climatic severity had only affected their bodies but their humour and spirits were not much ruffled.
Soon they were onto the ropes for the final climb. He has placed himself second in the queue so as to keep an eye contact with all the members of his team. A sudden tuck tuck of enemy MG slashed ice from very near and they all had a narrow shave. He looked back and warned Nasrullah to creep close to the slab as his shadow on the white snow was attracting the fire. Directing and helping at the ropes he soon broke the crest line where he was greeted by his precursor Subedar Ghulam Rasul. A few minutes of briefing and Ghulam Rasul was on his way down with three others. It’s much easier, speedier and merrier on a downward slide.
From there on, the top was trusted to the experience and ability of Naib/Subedar Atta Mohammad, who would rightfully pride in the glory of the task, yet writhe in the uneasiness of responsibility. Conscious of calling of his duty he walked to the sentry-post and through the use of NVDs scanned the enemy positions and own area of responsibility. His companions had moved into the lone igloo for nurse-tending their bodies. He walked to the next sentry and chattingly enquired about the arc of fire and enemy dispositions. These sentries were already there to be relieved on a later date. Then he went to a vantage point on the farther side and had a good view of the ridges and the tops around. He had been there earlier too, but nothing looked familiar, sparing the general direction of the enemy. He wondered that nothing is more consistent than change. Sudden activation of avalanches and snow blizzards could instantly change topography of the area filling old crevasses and creating many new ones; razing all mounds which interrupted their blitz and bolt and producing dozens of new lumps. He stood meditatively placing his nearly frozen left foot on the outer edge of the bowl-shaped plateau and surveying his environs thought out a duty roster for his detachment for the next fortnight. Being sure of how he and his men had to perform their task during the next few days, he moved inside the igloo to rest.
When he reappeared from his artic habitat, the sun shone from its easterly nest. The glare of sun rays refracting from the gleaming waves of fresh snow obliged him to wear polar goggles. Early sunshine had quite brightened the vast canvas of linear Saltoro Range, seeping through the steamy clouds in the far distance. He was absolutely overawed by the fabulous splendour of this icy region where freshly frosted cones of rocks and beauteous network of lucent icicles trailing from the outer layers of peaks had cast a spell of an unearthly sort. While rejoicing at the stunning view of unravished natural grace he little knew what lay ahead for him and his men. He thought this spectacular site was more fit for some fairy landish existence than for any combat field. Since 1944 when he was born, he had been to numerous places varying in look and climate; but what he was viewing now could not even pass anywhere near his dreams.
This was the Quaid Post at an altitude of 21,600 feet, named after the company which established it in April 86. It stands out as the loftiest feature in the heights of Bilafond sector overlooking Rana and Akbar Tops to the West, Prem in the North and Yaqub in the East where enemy lay entrenched in mutually supporting and well riveted dug-outs. Primarily, the top served as an observation-post from where enemy’s rear could be amply observed. Enemy would particularly feel teased by Quaid OP when it directed artillery shelling onto it as far back as the heli-zone in their rear, not allowing air-dropping of reinforcements nor any movement without cover. Quaid OP was set up on a plateau not more than 15 meters in radius. From an aerial view the top looked like a swelled octopus of ice with its 3 major tentacles spread out in long protrusions sloping down as they extended outward. Its rearward arm was a large cliff with a sheer fall of 300 feet on all sides at the base of which was located the Quaid Post that supported the Quaid OP. Its right projection was a gradually falling spur fading into a forest of broken conical rocks, whereas on the left was a thick mass of rising rock falling steeply on its sides. Own troops had only one approach towards the peak moving along the rope tied with iron pickets curving its path over the homeward projection of the rocks. Deep crevices and steep boulders would push them further to the east. Area to the left of Quaid Post was criss-crossed with deep gorges and huge crevasses. Dizzying steepness of OP’s side in the west ruled out chances of any access to it through this route. Enemy too could only negotiate the OP along the right slope where the gradient was gradual and manageable.
Atta carried out a thorough tactical appreciation and adjusted the arc of his MG1A3 on the left pit and briefed his sentry in the right dugout. In addition, he placed a sentry in the passage which was cut out for entry in the igloo. This sentry was to maintain visual contact with the two sentries and alarm his men inside the igloo in view of any danger. Atta directed his men to exercise strict adherence to the practice of always keeping 3 sentries by day and 3 by night. These sentries would change every 6 hours during the day and every 2 hours at night. Atta was exceedingly vigilant now, heeding to his Officer Commanding Major Irshad’s call from Ali Brangsa fore-warning him of likely enemy attempt to capture the OP. “They’ll pay fir it very dearly,” his resolution inspired much confidence in his commander. Enemy shelling, occasional dropping of air bursts and intermittent spraying of their Vickers was all in a day’s job and ticked on in the stray bangs of artillery shells and clatter of automatics. His men were a happy team who loved its commander for his cheerful disposition and resilient spirits.
On 20th June in the early hours of morning a sudden snow blizzard of heavy intensity hit the Quaid Top. Fast cold wind which blew in a whirlwind motion seemed to carry a sea of snow in its fold. Temperature had dropped to minus 35 Centigrade. The lone igloo was the only place that offered some protection against the storm, but the danger of being buried inside the igloo must keep at least four of them constantly busy in cleaning with shovels the passage that would get filled with mass of fresh snow every 10 minutes. The blizzard lasted for hours and didn’t seem to stop or even reduce in intensity. Hours of ice picking and biting chilliness of wind would tell upon their faces and Sepoy Nasrullah who was the youngest of them all suggested to his leader to quit this endless duel with nature, abandon the igloo and to lie in the open, wrapped up in the sleeping bags. Atta smiled at his innocence and himself shoveling asked him to move inside the igloo and have some rest. He knew such a thing will be fatal as freezing chill would soon coagulate blood in the inactive body and in that state they all may well be stiffened to death. He was reminded of May 4 when he trekked to this Top, from the base camp to retrieve Naik Yunis from the same igloo in which a strong snow blizzard had buried him. He had survived this burial for 5 longs days, thanks mainly to the expeditionary zeal and resolution of Naib Subedar Atta.
Atta and his man battled with the blizzard that raged strong for two days receding in its intensity at noon 22nd to clear by evening completely. Hey all had almost tired themselves to death by constant ice picking and now breathed a sigh of relief. They moved to the different edges of the post to feast their eyes on the fascinating scenery of surroundings which was completely altered by the cartographic effect of the blizzard. Quite strangely a place where hey fenced with death a short while ago, now presented an enthralling and enlivening view of nature.
That day Atta had 7 men under his command. Lance Naik Jehanzeb, Seoy Fiaz, Sepoy Sher Ali, Sepoy Allahyar, Sepoy Nasrullah, Sepoy Arshad and Sepoy Zulfiqar who came from districts of Kark, Haripur, Khushab, Talagang, Sargodha, Gujrat and Sialkot respectively. They were all sturdy and tough hardened by years of experience in the Army. As the blizzard died down they resumed normal post duties. Taking their evening meal, some pre-cooked meal, some pre-cooked rice in the igloo Sepoy Sher Ali noticed that his friend Nasrullah who belonged to his area and was just recently married looked pensive and absorbed in his thoughts. “Don’t bother soon I’ll be Shaheed and you’ll get 10 days off to deliver my dead body”, Sher Ali tried to cheer-up Nasrullah. “I don’t want to sacrifice a dear friend for a few days visit home. We’ll go home together when ever it comes or we’ll die together.” Nasrullah replied stirred by the affection and concern of his bosom friend. Atta was through on his wireless set with Ali Brangsa. He was told that an attack on Quaid OP was imminent. He talked to Major Irshad about the scarcity of ammunition. He was also anxious about the malfunctioning of 12.7 AAMG that was damaged during enemy attack on the Eid day and needed to be replaced. Major Irshad confirmed that reinforcement was on its way.
Everyone noticed that their leader was charged with greater zeal and energy as he readied his men to fight the enemy. When he visited the two pits and briefed the sentries, his face glowed with a radiance of confidence and a conviction of the holy nature of their job.
During all this time Indian brigade headquarters stationed at Pratapur had worked out an elaborate plan of falling Quaid OP what they would call ‘Sonam Point’. Their MI-17 the huge transport helicopters, kept stacking reinforcements and other supplies close to the front while their Cheeta Choppers were busy bringing key men and commanders forward and 4 Jammu and Kashmir Light Infantry spread out its men in the dead ground behind Prem Top. Sometimes later they were to charge on Quaid OP. They had thought Quaid Top to be a heavily fortified post, hence deemed necessary a full-fledged battalion attack supported by heavy mortar and artillery shelling. Clad in their Austrian snow-boot and Swiss down-suits, they sneaked towards their Forward Assembly Area.
On the afternoon of 22nd June when the blizzard had died down giving way to a gigantic silence at Bilafondla; dozens of field and medium guns, howitzers and mortars propelled their plosive rounds onto the Quaid Top. The booming of guns and the banging of shells caused many an avalanche in the proximity of the peak; however the straying of their shoot made Atta smile under his lips as he stood at his observation-pit surveying the area. There were many factors agitating his mind, his main pre-occupation being dearth of ammunition and of kerosene oil. Without kerosene oil there could be no food cooked nor any water made. Drinking water was prepared by the melting of snow on a locally made wick-burner. Atta knew that the burner had its last fill of fuel which would not last long. He ordered that the burner will only be used for preparing drinking water. Food was to be nibbled dry and cold. Ablution was either to be substituted by performance of ‘Tayumum’ or was to be had by use of fresh snow. The guns kept shelling almost the whole night, ironically raising the morale of their intended victims by their inaccuracy.
Morning of 23rd June was almost as bright as a tropical dawn, enemy shells continued falling at regular intervals. Shelling often cutout OP’s line-communication with the post and Atta Muhammad could only communicate with Ali Brangsa through wireless. Atta could look very clearly at the base camp from where reinforcements had long moved upward. But he could well appreciate why they were not reaching him. Enemy had effectively blocked the lone route to the Top. Instantly he heard that own guns and mortars also started shelling Prem Top “That’s the way” he clasped his hands. At midday, enemy’s shelling focused completely on the Top. Many shells fell around them raising huge splashes of snow creating big craters. He correctly figured out that Indians wanted to neutralize life at the OP before attempting its physical occupation. Conceivably constant pounding of the peak would either kill its occupants or scare them away to save their lives.
Suddenly Atta Muhammad heard Jehanzeb say that left pit was hit. Atta ran to it and was much overwhelmed to see Sepoy Sher Ali soaked in his own blood breathing his last. Atta placed Sher’s head in his lap with all the love and warmth, but he had already distinguished himself as the first martyr of Quaid Top. Nasrullah stood there with a glass of water: sad but furious, pledging to avenge the death of his very dear friend. They all offered Fateha at their places of duty and Atta asked two of them to place the dead body in the sleeping bag to be placed next to the pit. Atta inspected the destroyed position and was concerned to see that the blow had destroyed many other items including an RPG-7 rocket launcher and a box of SMG rounds. Holding-pod of MG was also destroyed and its barrel was partially damaged. He checked it and felt satisfied that it could be used.
At mid-night 23/24 June, Nasrullah and Zulfiqar were on duty. A queer hissing in the middle distance alarmed them. They signaled to Arshad in the passage and soon Atta was with them to observe through the NVD. He quickly grasped the situation and keeping his wits about instructed them to hold their fire till he shouted ‘Allah-o-Akbar’ and sent Arshad to make everybody stand-to. Atta waited till his prey appeared in the killing-zone. He himself held the podless MG, placing in it a belt of cartridges. A loud cry of Allah-o-Akbar from him and his MG and his companion’s SMGs and rifles sprayed the enemy which had stepped into the death-trap. In the dark, enemy’s orderly move was turned into a worst form of panic and they rushed for shelter in the broken rocks at Quaid’s farthest edge of its right spur. Instantly the whole area was lit with flares of Very Light and illumination-mortar bombs fired by the enemy. Atta and his men could see 12 dead and a trail of injured-ones disappearing into cover. They shouted their inspiring war cries urging on the enemy to show up. Their slogans were only to be responded either by a feeble ‘Jaye-Hind’ or by very interesting abusive yell of Hindu officers condemning their men for cowardice and gracelessness, reminding them that they had volunteered for the job and now they were all showing their backs. It was a complete company of 4 J&K L I but they were all glued to the ground and none dared rise. Meanwhile Major Irshad was desperately trying to reach the Top but it was 12 hours constant uphill climb and the entire route was under heavy artillery fire. Quaid OP was again engaged by massive firepower but Atta and his party’s watchful stance was least disturbed. Their friends at the Post attempted hard to reinforce the Top but a constant flow of automatic fire and extensive dropping of shells did not let them have any headway. Their party had hardly gone a short distance when a barrage of enemy fire mortally hit Sepoy Allah Bux and Amanat acquitting them their party before God and before their friends on Quaid Top.
During a quiet interval in the later part of night Arshad and Fiaz set out to bring back a jerry-can of K-II oil which was tied about 50 feet down the cliff, left there by them 4 days before to shed excess weight while ascending a bluff. Soon Arshad came running to inform Atta that ropes there were cut and Fiaz had fallen down the rock. Atta rushed to the point from where they usually descended and he instantly understood why reinforcements couldn’t reach him. The nylon ropes which they had spread for support during the climb were all shattered into pieces by artillery drops. He quickly informed the Post to search for Fiaz and recover him. The Post had just managed to restore the line communication.
Atta kept scanning the area. He noticed that some shadows flickered at the base of the OP’s vertical column. For a moment he thought that they were his own men but their attempt to cut the ropes and remove the pickets which marked own route to the OP made the situation very clear him. It was Captain Partap Singh, the hostile artillery spotter, with a few men trying to fully sever OP’s link with rest of the world. Atta pulled the pin off his HE-36 and lobbed two of them one retraced their steps to a big boulder where they established a blocking position. While all this was going on, Jahanzeb madly dug the snow at back of the igloo. Atta enquired from him what he was doing and was mush amused to listen that he was exploring oil as Pakistan was not quite self-sufficient in this mineral. Atta, however, ignored it thinking that he must be saving his marrow from freezing by keeping himself active. A few minutes after that Jahanzeb shrieked a happy ‘Ya-hoo’ and held in his hands a stove which he claimed was half full of oil and it lay there buried since the last blizzard one month ago. Now there was oil to help in cooking and making drinking water and Atta was relieved of a part of his tension. Absence of oil had caused persistent hunger and thirst. Every one’s stomach shrank close to spine and gullet thorned with dryness. He much laughed at Jahanzeb’s humor. He was right after all. The day passed under the thick umbrella of artillery fire. The Top was almost churned to powder but the valiant warriors sat quite composed cleaning their weapons for the final encounter with the locust storm of foes. Enemy resumed their major offensive at 11 PM on June 25. They tried to reach the Top in a three-pronged attack while pinning the peak under unabated covering fire. Atta through sheer will power and invincible faith in the rightness of his cause stuck to his guns.
Lance Naik Jehanzeb with machine gun in hand and others with rifles and SMGs engaged the first layer of attackers with accurate aimed-sniping. They used their cartridges quite frugally lest they should run out of ammunition. An air burst hit Nasrullah; he thus fulfilled his promise of living and dying together with his dear friend Sher Ali. Atta kept conducting the defence valiantly, shuttling himself from one point to another moving quickly to places where enemy had advanced. During one such scampering rush a few stray bullets from enemy automatics gored past his left shin and thigh. Blood gushed out profusely and Allahyar ran to help. Atta directed him to mind his post and dragged himself to the wireless set. He grabbed some lose snow and inserted it in the gaping wound. The trick worked and the bleeding stopped.
He immediately got through with gunners at Ali Brangsa and called for artillery fire. “Drop 400. Drop 200. Add 100” and own guns were onto the advancing foes. Own OP at Sarwar Top too had spotted the enemy creeping-up, and brought their mortar fire on them. The lone fighters suffered another loss when Allahyar sustained a nearly mortal blow from an artillery shell that fully pierced both his legs.
They had been locked in furious battle for three hours and the enemy was repelled to its last sanctuary. All the three columns ran to their rear leaving behind a score more of dead. At 2.30 AM on June 26 Atta breathed a sigh of relief that enemy attack had been successfully repulsed. He got Allahyar evacuated inside the igloo and Nasrullah’s body put in the sleeping bag to be placed next to Sher’s. Arshad brought him a ground-sheet to lie on and a glass of water to drink.
The later part of the night was almost quiet. The memories of his past reeled fast in his mind. He recalled his perfectly delightful boyhood when he attended Government High School Sillanwali. A few years later when youth glowed his face, broadened his shoulders, and expanded his bosom, he had become a delectable young man. He loved to be a soldier and his mother didn’t come in his way. A few years of service in Army Supply Corps didn’t offer him any challenge and he opted for the hard Special Services Group. Training at Cherat had chiseled him into a smart tough and agile commando to undertake any task having any degree of risk or challenge. He considered himself lucky to have participated in numerous ventures of national importance. He felt elated that though he was not highly placed in the hierarchy of army ranks yet whenever a major national crisis arose he had a tangible service to render.
A flash of retrospective cogitation reminded him of his family; his mother, his wife and 5 kids. He loved them all profoundly and cared for them no less. In his last letter that he wrote to Tanvir his eldest son, he readied them all for what was imminent. Quick succession of memories in his mind dawned on him the ephemeral nature of life. How long or short one lives is not the question. How gracefully and boldly one lives is what matters.
A wireless call from Quaid Post broke his chain of thought and he was back in the heat of combat. His company officer had just made it to the Post and had managed to establish wireless link with the OP. He promised to try hard to break the enemy’s encirclement of the Post and bring reinforcements. Atta told him of the predicament of his men. He said as long as he and his friends were alive and there was one last round of ammunition, enemy, dare not not reach the Top, doubting if both would last long. He was however glad to learn that Fiaz had survived the fall and had reached the Post safe.
Atta had just finished with his morning prayer when Jehanzeb brought him some biscuits and a glass of water. He examined the condition of the OP as he did his breakfast. In the far end the 12.7 lay broken since long. Allahyar in the igloo had succumbed to his wounds, Arshad and Zulfiqar manned the two pits; their eyes were sunken in the sockets and faces quite shriveled with weariness. Lance Naik Jehanzeb who was the tallest and the most robust of them all, appeared to be better disposed; conscious perhaps of his responsibility in view of his commander’s injury.
In the middle distance enemy formed up for an even more massive attack. The fact that they had completely isolated the OP and that the men on Top had nearly exhausted their ammunition, helped them gather some strength and give it a final try. They had amassed two fresh companies that the OP must be very heavily manned. Own troops’ final attempt to reinforce the Top too had not been successful mainly due to the absence of ropes near the summit and because of exposure to enemy’s extensive direct fire from the blocking position. At 9 o’clock in the morning when the sun shone brightly above their heads and its glare on the white battlefield became discomforting for the eye, the ridge boomed with the fresh resumption of heavy shelling. It was a prelude to the eventual attack. A short while later Arshad noticed a hundred enemy soldiers advancing towards the Top in extended lines. Atta too dragged close to the edge with SMG in hand and a spare magazine in the pouch. Jehanzeb placed the wireless set next to him. Atta immediately called for own guns and they responded instantly. Many of the enemy had come quite close to the summit when Atta ordered fire. Close ones fell and the others ran back, some stuck to the slope. Indians had a tremendous advantage of having a gradual slope to ascend. Hide and seek of the enemy persisted for hours. At about noon an air burst exploded just close to the stubborn warrior and Atta’s left arm was reduced to mince-meat. Jehanzeb instantly took him to the igloo and Atta in an enfeebled voice asked for the wireless set. He brought the mouth piece close to his mouth with much difficulty and talked to his friend Subedar Barkat that he and his men had lived upto his words. He told the Base that his ammunition had completely finished and he was about to tell his remaining companions to escape for it was definitely better than becoming enemy’s prisoners. Just then a burst of enemy LMG hit Jehanzeb in the face and he sprawled on the bodies of his sleeping friends. Arshad rushed into the igloo, told his commander of Jehanzeb’s Shahadat and asked for orders as they had pooped off their ammunition. Atta ordered them to leave the OP immediately and desired to be carried outside the Igloo where he lay half conscious with SMG in the lone hand. There must be one odd bullet in the magazine he thought.
Arshad with his MG and Zulfiqar with his G-3 in hands leapt off the cliff, least hoping to survive 300 feet of sheer fall. God perhaps didn’t want the holy story of summit to remain untold that they reached the Post quite safe. Enemy on the other side was quite baffled at the prolonged quiet on the peak. They considered it to be another wile of the hard fighters. Subedar Bana Singh later to win the highest gallantry award crept up the Top with a few others. A couple of bullets from the middle felled the man in front. A burst of fire from the side hit Atta who already half dead and thus tasted the long-cherished martyrdom. Bana Singh and his men stood there with their eyes dazed and a great degree of compunction and remorse. The joy of victory was short lived. It was even more distressing for the CO of 4 J&K L I to accept that they were just people who cost them 41 dead (as revealed by the signal interceptions) and a much larger trail of injured who nursed their wounds in various Field Dressing Stations and in the military hospital of Leh. Could a lone detachment of about half a dozen people thwart the onslaught of a battalion for days? It was embarrassing to mention and insulting to think. Brigade Commander at Pratapur was glad however, that though they hadn’t gained much, they had denied their enemy a great deal. Their rear was safe and supplies could go on.
As per the normal roster of duty Naib Subedar Atta’s two two weeks duty was to terminate on June 26. He was to be relieved in the evening on that day. God ensured that Himself. Oscar Wilde mentions of God’s practice of asking for the dearest thing every evening. On June 26 when the sun slipped into its westerly slot, God commanded his angels to bring Him the loveliest thing on earth. They soon returned bearing n their celestial wings war-weary bullet smeared huddled figure of Atta Muhammad, his face still gleaming and eyes beaming with fearless radiation. God was pleased with the judgment of his subordinates.
When the bodies of the Shuhada of Quaid OP were received at an Indian Outpost in the Holding Sector in the middle of July, it was a stirring spectacle. They had preserved the bodies with greatest care and respect knowing that the valiant ought to be honoured. Wrapped up in parachute cloth the bodies lay quite fresh in the beautifully prepared coffins on the top of which was written the holy Kalima. They handed over the body of each Shaheed after giving it a general salute and the solemn ceremony concluded. The bodies were heli-lifted and immediately taken to their places of burial.
There wasn’t a clean 2 inches of Atta’s body which was without any injury, his chest quite perforated with bullets. This is what lends some authenticity to the account of hat happened at the Top when Atta became its lone defender. Bana Singh pays a rich tribute to the defenders of Quaid OP. “They were obstinate fighters and they fought hard” he confessed.
When the body of Atta Muhammad reached Chak 125 of Sargodha for burial, a large assembly of people had already thronged there to take a last glimpse of the valiant custodian of their glory and honour. His commanders had recommended him for the highest gallantry award. Award of Sitara-e-Juraat was a mere token of recognition of his priceless service to his nation.
They say when sun shines brightly on Siachen in the last days of June and the upper layer of snow gets softened, a loud roar of Allah-o-Akbar resounds in the stupendous stillness of Bilafond region sending many an avalanche cracking down the slopes and the legend of the lone defenders of Quaid OP persists.
In the stillness of the night, Naib Subedar Atta Mohammad was awakened by the shrill screams of a desperate women crying for help. For a second he thought it was a nightmare, but his sharp and instant reflexes immediately woke him to the reality of the situation. Some gangsters were trying to kidnap a woman. Without losing any precious time he jumped out of his bed, barefooted he ran in the direction of the plaintive cries. Before the assaulters could realize what was happening, he had grabbed the rifle of one of the armed men and had sent him reeling on the ground with a flying-kick. The next man was dealt a blow in the ribs with the butt of the rifle. Before the other could react the battle was over and gun was staring the brigands in the face. Having unarmed them, he shepherded them into a room and sent for the police. His quick and intrepid action had helped save the life and honour of a respectable daughter of the soil.
This lion hearted man of iron nerves and steely fists had a soft and tender heart. He doted upon his children, loved his wife, looked after his mother and relatives, was kind to his neighbors and generous to his friends. Having chosen the army as his profession, he got recruited in the Army Services Corps in 1965 and then later in 1970, he was selected for the special services group. As a commando he often used to go on missions that were fraught with danger.
Thrice he had a close call but he would return unscathed. Perhaps nature was saving him for the crowning honour that he was to receive in the forty second year of his life. His company was now being sent to Siachen. Before leaving for the glaciated region Atta went to spend a few days at his village. On the last night at home, he asked his mother, Sami bibi, to wake him early in the morning. He had to catch the first bus for Rawalpindi from where he would go to his future destination. His mother lovingly asked enquired when he would be coming back. He told her this time it would be pretty long before he returned home. That night the whole family chatted for a long time. In the morning when Samo Bibi came to wake up her son, he was already out of bed and was on the prayer mat, offering his prayers. His mother told him it was a bit early for the morning prayer to which he laughingly remarked, ‘God accepts the ill-timed prayers of the travellers’. He picked up his ruck sack, kissed the foreheads of his sleeping children, touched the feet of his mother and left the house. After ten minutes he was again back. His mother felt surprised, it was not this wont to return after he had left. He told her he had come to fetch the blanket that he had forgotten to take along. Again he kissed the sleeping children and bade farewell to his wife and mother. He came back the third time. His daughter Kauser was sitting with her grandmother on the prayer mat. He felt pleased that she had gotten up for morning prayers. Atta’s mother asked ‘Atta what is the matter? It looks like as if you don’t want to go’. Atta told her the bus had not yet come so he thought of spending a few more moments with his family.
Having undergone the necessary travel and having reached Siachen, Atta was trudging along for his final destination. Heavily harnessed in thick American snowline equipment and survival-pack, he was heading a party of 4 SSG men who were to relieve their friends at the peak. The merger of their white robes with the vast whiteness of snow adequately prevented them from being picked up by enemy NVDs (Night Vision Devices) on the next ridge line. Mercury had fallen well below minus 30C. Freezing wind had induced a terribly painful numbness on their bodies, hands and feet being the worst- affected. Although it was intensely cold yet while they tussled with the ropes and trudged upward, their hands and feet started sweating in the thick gloves and warm socks. However, the outside temperature turned the sweat into thin crystals of ice which in their reverse effect bit their skin as if they had stepped on a mound of carnivorous ants. The misery of biting cold was further compounded by paucity of oxygen. Yet they must make it to the top before the luminous dawn removed the hazy curtain of night; so as to avoid being hit by the trigger-happy handlers of Vickers in the nearby enemy post located toward the South East. He cheerfully enquired the morale of his companions and giving a few minutes breather, asked them to get ready for the last 150 feet of sheer vertical ascent. His companions too were cheery and resolute. Climatic severity had only affected their bodies but their humour and spirits were not much ruffled.
Soon they were onto the ropes for the final climb. He has placed himself second in the queue so as to keep an eye contact with all the members of his team. A sudden tuck tuck of enemy MG slashed ice from very near and they all had a narrow shave. He looked back and warned Nasrullah to creep close to the slab as his shadow on the white snow was attracting the fire. Directing and helping at the ropes he soon broke the crest line where he was greeted by his precursor Subedar Ghulam Rasul. A few minutes of briefing and Ghulam Rasul was on his way down with three others. It’s much easier, speedier and merrier on a downward slide.
From there on, the top was trusted to the experience and ability of Naib/Subedar Atta Mohammad, who would rightfully pride in the glory of the task, yet writhe in the uneasiness of responsibility. Conscious of calling of his duty he walked to the sentry-post and through the use of NVDs scanned the enemy positions and own area of responsibility. His companions had moved into the lone igloo for nurse-tending their bodies. He walked to the next sentry and chattingly enquired about the arc of fire and enemy dispositions. These sentries were already there to be relieved on a later date. Then he went to a vantage point on the farther side and had a good view of the ridges and the tops around. He had been there earlier too, but nothing looked familiar, sparing the general direction of the enemy. He wondered that nothing is more consistent than change. Sudden activation of avalanches and snow blizzards could instantly change topography of the area filling old crevasses and creating many new ones; razing all mounds which interrupted their blitz and bolt and producing dozens of new lumps. He stood meditatively placing his nearly frozen left foot on the outer edge of the bowl-shaped plateau and surveying his environs thought out a duty roster for his detachment for the next fortnight. Being sure of how he and his men had to perform their task during the next few days, he moved inside the igloo to rest.
When he reappeared from his artic habitat, the sun shone from its easterly nest. The glare of sun rays refracting from the gleaming waves of fresh snow obliged him to wear polar goggles. Early sunshine had quite brightened the vast canvas of linear Saltoro Range, seeping through the steamy clouds in the far distance. He was absolutely overawed by the fabulous splendour of this icy region where freshly frosted cones of rocks and beauteous network of lucent icicles trailing from the outer layers of peaks had cast a spell of an unearthly sort. While rejoicing at the stunning view of unravished natural grace he little knew what lay ahead for him and his men. He thought this spectacular site was more fit for some fairy landish existence than for any combat field. Since 1944 when he was born, he had been to numerous places varying in look and climate; but what he was viewing now could not even pass anywhere near his dreams.
This was the Quaid Post at an altitude of 21,600 feet, named after the company which established it in April 86. It stands out as the loftiest feature in the heights of Bilafond sector overlooking Rana and Akbar Tops to the West, Prem in the North and Yaqub in the East where enemy lay entrenched in mutually supporting and well riveted dug-outs. Primarily, the top served as an observation-post from where enemy’s rear could be amply observed. Enemy would particularly feel teased by Quaid OP when it directed artillery shelling onto it as far back as the heli-zone in their rear, not allowing air-dropping of reinforcements nor any movement without cover. Quaid OP was set up on a plateau not more than 15 meters in radius. From an aerial view the top looked like a swelled octopus of ice with its 3 major tentacles spread out in long protrusions sloping down as they extended outward. Its rearward arm was a large cliff with a sheer fall of 300 feet on all sides at the base of which was located the Quaid Post that supported the Quaid OP. Its right projection was a gradually falling spur fading into a forest of broken conical rocks, whereas on the left was a thick mass of rising rock falling steeply on its sides. Own troops had only one approach towards the peak moving along the rope tied with iron pickets curving its path over the homeward projection of the rocks. Deep crevices and steep boulders would push them further to the east. Area to the left of Quaid Post was criss-crossed with deep gorges and huge crevasses. Dizzying steepness of OP’s side in the west ruled out chances of any access to it through this route. Enemy too could only negotiate the OP along the right slope where the gradient was gradual and manageable.
Atta carried out a thorough tactical appreciation and adjusted the arc of his MG1A3 on the left pit and briefed his sentry in the right dugout. In addition, he placed a sentry in the passage which was cut out for entry in the igloo. This sentry was to maintain visual contact with the two sentries and alarm his men inside the igloo in view of any danger. Atta directed his men to exercise strict adherence to the practice of always keeping 3 sentries by day and 3 by night. These sentries would change every 6 hours during the day and every 2 hours at night. Atta was exceedingly vigilant now, heeding to his Officer Commanding Major Irshad’s call from Ali Brangsa fore-warning him of likely enemy attempt to capture the OP. “They’ll pay fir it very dearly,” his resolution inspired much confidence in his commander. Enemy shelling, occasional dropping of air bursts and intermittent spraying of their Vickers was all in a day’s job and ticked on in the stray bangs of artillery shells and clatter of automatics. His men were a happy team who loved its commander for his cheerful disposition and resilient spirits.
On 20th June in the early hours of morning a sudden snow blizzard of heavy intensity hit the Quaid Top. Fast cold wind which blew in a whirlwind motion seemed to carry a sea of snow in its fold. Temperature had dropped to minus 35 Centigrade. The lone igloo was the only place that offered some protection against the storm, but the danger of being buried inside the igloo must keep at least four of them constantly busy in cleaning with shovels the passage that would get filled with mass of fresh snow every 10 minutes. The blizzard lasted for hours and didn’t seem to stop or even reduce in intensity. Hours of ice picking and biting chilliness of wind would tell upon their faces and Sepoy Nasrullah who was the youngest of them all suggested to his leader to quit this endless duel with nature, abandon the igloo and to lie in the open, wrapped up in the sleeping bags. Atta smiled at his innocence and himself shoveling asked him to move inside the igloo and have some rest. He knew such a thing will be fatal as freezing chill would soon coagulate blood in the inactive body and in that state they all may well be stiffened to death. He was reminded of May 4 when he trekked to this Top, from the base camp to retrieve Naik Yunis from the same igloo in which a strong snow blizzard had buried him. He had survived this burial for 5 longs days, thanks mainly to the expeditionary zeal and resolution of Naib Subedar Atta.
Atta and his man battled with the blizzard that raged strong for two days receding in its intensity at noon 22nd to clear by evening completely. Hey all had almost tired themselves to death by constant ice picking and now breathed a sigh of relief. They moved to the different edges of the post to feast their eyes on the fascinating scenery of surroundings which was completely altered by the cartographic effect of the blizzard. Quite strangely a place where hey fenced with death a short while ago, now presented an enthralling and enlivening view of nature.
That day Atta had 7 men under his command. Lance Naik Jehanzeb, Seoy Fiaz, Sepoy Sher Ali, Sepoy Allahyar, Sepoy Nasrullah, Sepoy Arshad and Sepoy Zulfiqar who came from districts of Kark, Haripur, Khushab, Talagang, Sargodha, Gujrat and Sialkot respectively. They were all sturdy and tough hardened by years of experience in the Army. As the blizzard died down they resumed normal post duties. Taking their evening meal, some pre-cooked meal, some pre-cooked rice in the igloo Sepoy Sher Ali noticed that his friend Nasrullah who belonged to his area and was just recently married looked pensive and absorbed in his thoughts. “Don’t bother soon I’ll be Shaheed and you’ll get 10 days off to deliver my dead body”, Sher Ali tried to cheer-up Nasrullah. “I don’t want to sacrifice a dear friend for a few days visit home. We’ll go home together when ever it comes or we’ll die together.” Nasrullah replied stirred by the affection and concern of his bosom friend. Atta was through on his wireless set with Ali Brangsa. He was told that an attack on Quaid OP was imminent. He talked to Major Irshad about the scarcity of ammunition. He was also anxious about the malfunctioning of 12.7 AAMG that was damaged during enemy attack on the Eid day and needed to be replaced. Major Irshad confirmed that reinforcement was on its way.
Everyone noticed that their leader was charged with greater zeal and energy as he readied his men to fight the enemy. When he visited the two pits and briefed the sentries, his face glowed with a radiance of confidence and a conviction of the holy nature of their job.
During all this time Indian brigade headquarters stationed at Pratapur had worked out an elaborate plan of falling Quaid OP what they would call ‘Sonam Point’. Their MI-17 the huge transport helicopters, kept stacking reinforcements and other supplies close to the front while their Cheeta Choppers were busy bringing key men and commanders forward and 4 Jammu and Kashmir Light Infantry spread out its men in the dead ground behind Prem Top. Sometimes later they were to charge on Quaid OP. They had thought Quaid Top to be a heavily fortified post, hence deemed necessary a full-fledged battalion attack supported by heavy mortar and artillery shelling. Clad in their Austrian snow-boot and Swiss down-suits, they sneaked towards their Forward Assembly Area.
On the afternoon of 22nd June when the blizzard had died down giving way to a gigantic silence at Bilafondla; dozens of field and medium guns, howitzers and mortars propelled their plosive rounds onto the Quaid Top. The booming of guns and the banging of shells caused many an avalanche in the proximity of the peak; however the straying of their shoot made Atta smile under his lips as he stood at his observation-pit surveying the area. There were many factors agitating his mind, his main pre-occupation being dearth of ammunition and of kerosene oil. Without kerosene oil there could be no food cooked nor any water made. Drinking water was prepared by the melting of snow on a locally made wick-burner. Atta knew that the burner had its last fill of fuel which would not last long. He ordered that the burner will only be used for preparing drinking water. Food was to be nibbled dry and cold. Ablution was either to be substituted by performance of ‘Tayumum’ or was to be had by use of fresh snow. The guns kept shelling almost the whole night, ironically raising the morale of their intended victims by their inaccuracy.
Morning of 23rd June was almost as bright as a tropical dawn, enemy shells continued falling at regular intervals. Shelling often cutout OP’s line-communication with the post and Atta Muhammad could only communicate with Ali Brangsa through wireless. Atta could look very clearly at the base camp from where reinforcements had long moved upward. But he could well appreciate why they were not reaching him. Enemy had effectively blocked the lone route to the Top. Instantly he heard that own guns and mortars also started shelling Prem Top “That’s the way” he clasped his hands. At midday, enemy’s shelling focused completely on the Top. Many shells fell around them raising huge splashes of snow creating big craters. He correctly figured out that Indians wanted to neutralize life at the OP before attempting its physical occupation. Conceivably constant pounding of the peak would either kill its occupants or scare them away to save their lives.
Suddenly Atta Muhammad heard Jehanzeb say that left pit was hit. Atta ran to it and was much overwhelmed to see Sepoy Sher Ali soaked in his own blood breathing his last. Atta placed Sher’s head in his lap with all the love and warmth, but he had already distinguished himself as the first martyr of Quaid Top. Nasrullah stood there with a glass of water: sad but furious, pledging to avenge the death of his very dear friend. They all offered Fateha at their places of duty and Atta asked two of them to place the dead body in the sleeping bag to be placed next to the pit. Atta inspected the destroyed position and was concerned to see that the blow had destroyed many other items including an RPG-7 rocket launcher and a box of SMG rounds. Holding-pod of MG was also destroyed and its barrel was partially damaged. He checked it and felt satisfied that it could be used.
At mid-night 23/24 June, Nasrullah and Zulfiqar were on duty. A queer hissing in the middle distance alarmed them. They signaled to Arshad in the passage and soon Atta was with them to observe through the NVD. He quickly grasped the situation and keeping his wits about instructed them to hold their fire till he shouted ‘Allah-o-Akbar’ and sent Arshad to make everybody stand-to. Atta waited till his prey appeared in the killing-zone. He himself held the podless MG, placing in it a belt of cartridges. A loud cry of Allah-o-Akbar from him and his MG and his companion’s SMGs and rifles sprayed the enemy which had stepped into the death-trap. In the dark, enemy’s orderly move was turned into a worst form of panic and they rushed for shelter in the broken rocks at Quaid’s farthest edge of its right spur. Instantly the whole area was lit with flares of Very Light and illumination-mortar bombs fired by the enemy. Atta and his men could see 12 dead and a trail of injured-ones disappearing into cover. They shouted their inspiring war cries urging on the enemy to show up. Their slogans were only to be responded either by a feeble ‘Jaye-Hind’ or by very interesting abusive yell of Hindu officers condemning their men for cowardice and gracelessness, reminding them that they had volunteered for the job and now they were all showing their backs. It was a complete company of 4 J&K L I but they were all glued to the ground and none dared rise. Meanwhile Major Irshad was desperately trying to reach the Top but it was 12 hours constant uphill climb and the entire route was under heavy artillery fire. Quaid OP was again engaged by massive firepower but Atta and his party’s watchful stance was least disturbed. Their friends at the Post attempted hard to reinforce the Top but a constant flow of automatic fire and extensive dropping of shells did not let them have any headway. Their party had hardly gone a short distance when a barrage of enemy fire mortally hit Sepoy Allah Bux and Amanat acquitting them their party before God and before their friends on Quaid Top.
During a quiet interval in the later part of night Arshad and Fiaz set out to bring back a jerry-can of K-II oil which was tied about 50 feet down the cliff, left there by them 4 days before to shed excess weight while ascending a bluff. Soon Arshad came running to inform Atta that ropes there were cut and Fiaz had fallen down the rock. Atta rushed to the point from where they usually descended and he instantly understood why reinforcements couldn’t reach him. The nylon ropes which they had spread for support during the climb were all shattered into pieces by artillery drops. He quickly informed the Post to search for Fiaz and recover him. The Post had just managed to restore the line communication.
Atta kept scanning the area. He noticed that some shadows flickered at the base of the OP’s vertical column. For a moment he thought that they were his own men but their attempt to cut the ropes and remove the pickets which marked own route to the OP made the situation very clear him. It was Captain Partap Singh, the hostile artillery spotter, with a few men trying to fully sever OP’s link with rest of the world. Atta pulled the pin off his HE-36 and lobbed two of them one retraced their steps to a big boulder where they established a blocking position. While all this was going on, Jahanzeb madly dug the snow at back of the igloo. Atta enquired from him what he was doing and was mush amused to listen that he was exploring oil as Pakistan was not quite self-sufficient in this mineral. Atta, however, ignored it thinking that he must be saving his marrow from freezing by keeping himself active. A few minutes after that Jahanzeb shrieked a happy ‘Ya-hoo’ and held in his hands a stove which he claimed was half full of oil and it lay there buried since the last blizzard one month ago. Now there was oil to help in cooking and making drinking water and Atta was relieved of a part of his tension. Absence of oil had caused persistent hunger and thirst. Every one’s stomach shrank close to spine and gullet thorned with dryness. He much laughed at Jahanzeb’s humor. He was right after all. The day passed under the thick umbrella of artillery fire. The Top was almost churned to powder but the valiant warriors sat quite composed cleaning their weapons for the final encounter with the locust storm of foes. Enemy resumed their major offensive at 11 PM on June 25. They tried to reach the Top in a three-pronged attack while pinning the peak under unabated covering fire. Atta through sheer will power and invincible faith in the rightness of his cause stuck to his guns.
Lance Naik Jehanzeb with machine gun in hand and others with rifles and SMGs engaged the first layer of attackers with accurate aimed-sniping. They used their cartridges quite frugally lest they should run out of ammunition. An air burst hit Nasrullah; he thus fulfilled his promise of living and dying together with his dear friend Sher Ali. Atta kept conducting the defence valiantly, shuttling himself from one point to another moving quickly to places where enemy had advanced. During one such scampering rush a few stray bullets from enemy automatics gored past his left shin and thigh. Blood gushed out profusely and Allahyar ran to help. Atta directed him to mind his post and dragged himself to the wireless set. He grabbed some lose snow and inserted it in the gaping wound. The trick worked and the bleeding stopped.
He immediately got through with gunners at Ali Brangsa and called for artillery fire. “Drop 400. Drop 200. Add 100” and own guns were onto the advancing foes. Own OP at Sarwar Top too had spotted the enemy creeping-up, and brought their mortar fire on them. The lone fighters suffered another loss when Allahyar sustained a nearly mortal blow from an artillery shell that fully pierced both his legs.
They had been locked in furious battle for three hours and the enemy was repelled to its last sanctuary. All the three columns ran to their rear leaving behind a score more of dead. At 2.30 AM on June 26 Atta breathed a sigh of relief that enemy attack had been successfully repulsed. He got Allahyar evacuated inside the igloo and Nasrullah’s body put in the sleeping bag to be placed next to Sher’s. Arshad brought him a ground-sheet to lie on and a glass of water to drink.
The later part of the night was almost quiet. The memories of his past reeled fast in his mind. He recalled his perfectly delightful boyhood when he attended Government High School Sillanwali. A few years later when youth glowed his face, broadened his shoulders, and expanded his bosom, he had become a delectable young man. He loved to be a soldier and his mother didn’t come in his way. A few years of service in Army Supply Corps didn’t offer him any challenge and he opted for the hard Special Services Group. Training at Cherat had chiseled him into a smart tough and agile commando to undertake any task having any degree of risk or challenge. He considered himself lucky to have participated in numerous ventures of national importance. He felt elated that though he was not highly placed in the hierarchy of army ranks yet whenever a major national crisis arose he had a tangible service to render.
A flash of retrospective cogitation reminded him of his family; his mother, his wife and 5 kids. He loved them all profoundly and cared for them no less. In his last letter that he wrote to Tanvir his eldest son, he readied them all for what was imminent. Quick succession of memories in his mind dawned on him the ephemeral nature of life. How long or short one lives is not the question. How gracefully and boldly one lives is what matters.
A wireless call from Quaid Post broke his chain of thought and he was back in the heat of combat. His company officer had just made it to the Post and had managed to establish wireless link with the OP. He promised to try hard to break the enemy’s encirclement of the Post and bring reinforcements. Atta told him of the predicament of his men. He said as long as he and his friends were alive and there was one last round of ammunition, enemy, dare not not reach the Top, doubting if both would last long. He was however glad to learn that Fiaz had survived the fall and had reached the Post safe.
Atta had just finished with his morning prayer when Jehanzeb brought him some biscuits and a glass of water. He examined the condition of the OP as he did his breakfast. In the far end the 12.7 lay broken since long. Allahyar in the igloo had succumbed to his wounds, Arshad and Zulfiqar manned the two pits; their eyes were sunken in the sockets and faces quite shriveled with weariness. Lance Naik Jehanzeb who was the tallest and the most robust of them all, appeared to be better disposed; conscious perhaps of his responsibility in view of his commander’s injury.
In the middle distance enemy formed up for an even more massive attack. The fact that they had completely isolated the OP and that the men on Top had nearly exhausted their ammunition, helped them gather some strength and give it a final try. They had amassed two fresh companies that the OP must be very heavily manned. Own troops’ final attempt to reinforce the Top too had not been successful mainly due to the absence of ropes near the summit and because of exposure to enemy’s extensive direct fire from the blocking position. At 9 o’clock in the morning when the sun shone brightly above their heads and its glare on the white battlefield became discomforting for the eye, the ridge boomed with the fresh resumption of heavy shelling. It was a prelude to the eventual attack. A short while later Arshad noticed a hundred enemy soldiers advancing towards the Top in extended lines. Atta too dragged close to the edge with SMG in hand and a spare magazine in the pouch. Jehanzeb placed the wireless set next to him. Atta immediately called for own guns and they responded instantly. Many of the enemy had come quite close to the summit when Atta ordered fire. Close ones fell and the others ran back, some stuck to the slope. Indians had a tremendous advantage of having a gradual slope to ascend. Hide and seek of the enemy persisted for hours. At about noon an air burst exploded just close to the stubborn warrior and Atta’s left arm was reduced to mince-meat. Jehanzeb instantly took him to the igloo and Atta in an enfeebled voice asked for the wireless set. He brought the mouth piece close to his mouth with much difficulty and talked to his friend Subedar Barkat that he and his men had lived upto his words. He told the Base that his ammunition had completely finished and he was about to tell his remaining companions to escape for it was definitely better than becoming enemy’s prisoners. Just then a burst of enemy LMG hit Jehanzeb in the face and he sprawled on the bodies of his sleeping friends. Arshad rushed into the igloo, told his commander of Jehanzeb’s Shahadat and asked for orders as they had pooped off their ammunition. Atta ordered them to leave the OP immediately and desired to be carried outside the Igloo where he lay half conscious with SMG in the lone hand. There must be one odd bullet in the magazine he thought.
Arshad with his MG and Zulfiqar with his G-3 in hands leapt off the cliff, least hoping to survive 300 feet of sheer fall. God perhaps didn’t want the holy story of summit to remain untold that they reached the Post quite safe. Enemy on the other side was quite baffled at the prolonged quiet on the peak. They considered it to be another wile of the hard fighters. Subedar Bana Singh later to win the highest gallantry award crept up the Top with a few others. A couple of bullets from the middle felled the man in front. A burst of fire from the side hit Atta who already half dead and thus tasted the long-cherished martyrdom. Bana Singh and his men stood there with their eyes dazed and a great degree of compunction and remorse. The joy of victory was short lived. It was even more distressing for the CO of 4 J&K L I to accept that they were just people who cost them 41 dead (as revealed by the signal interceptions) and a much larger trail of injured who nursed their wounds in various Field Dressing Stations and in the military hospital of Leh. Could a lone detachment of about half a dozen people thwart the onslaught of a battalion for days? It was embarrassing to mention and insulting to think. Brigade Commander at Pratapur was glad however, that though they hadn’t gained much, they had denied their enemy a great deal. Their rear was safe and supplies could go on.
As per the normal roster of duty Naib Subedar Atta’s two two weeks duty was to terminate on June 26. He was to be relieved in the evening on that day. God ensured that Himself. Oscar Wilde mentions of God’s practice of asking for the dearest thing every evening. On June 26 when the sun slipped into its westerly slot, God commanded his angels to bring Him the loveliest thing on earth. They soon returned bearing n their celestial wings war-weary bullet smeared huddled figure of Atta Muhammad, his face still gleaming and eyes beaming with fearless radiation. God was pleased with the judgment of his subordinates.
When the bodies of the Shuhada of Quaid OP were received at an Indian Outpost in the Holding Sector in the middle of July, it was a stirring spectacle. They had preserved the bodies with greatest care and respect knowing that the valiant ought to be honoured. Wrapped up in parachute cloth the bodies lay quite fresh in the beautifully prepared coffins on the top of which was written the holy Kalima. They handed over the body of each Shaheed after giving it a general salute and the solemn ceremony concluded. The bodies were heli-lifted and immediately taken to their places of burial.
There wasn’t a clean 2 inches of Atta’s body which was without any injury, his chest quite perforated with bullets. This is what lends some authenticity to the account of hat happened at the Top when Atta became its lone defender. Bana Singh pays a rich tribute to the defenders of Quaid OP. “They were obstinate fighters and they fought hard” he confessed.
When the body of Atta Muhammad reached Chak 125 of Sargodha for burial, a large assembly of people had already thronged there to take a last glimpse of the valiant custodian of their glory and honour. His commanders had recommended him for the highest gallantry award. Award of Sitara-e-Juraat was a mere token of recognition of his priceless service to his nation.
They say when sun shines brightly on Siachen in the last days of June and the upper layer of snow gets softened, a loud roar of Allah-o-Akbar resounds in the stupendous stillness of Bilafond region sending many an avalanche cracking down the slopes and the legend of the lone defenders of Quaid OP persists.