The story of a bloodstained letter written by a sister to her brother in 1971 while he was defending the motherland, encouraging him to fight with honor and valor, triumphing her own love for her brother.

Since the 51^st commemoration of 1971 War is around the corner, I thought there can’t be a better time to share the story of my father-in-law, Lt Col Naseer Mahmood, who had been a part of this war. Like many other young men of his time, he fought for the embellishment of our fluttering green and white.
Being a soldier, a profession which is not known for prowess in story writing, I took an initiative to pick up the pen and write down this anecdote, a saga of sacrifice and steadfastness. I believe that it is important to honor our brave soldiers for their heroic sacrifices and the only humble way in which we can do so is to bring the events into black and white for all to read and learn. The unsung tales of men who stood like a concrete bulwark against the tempest of odds for nothing less than a united Pakistan deserve recognition.
By November 1971, the streets of Dhaka which were once a paragon of peace had become the epicenter of protests and riots. The sight of Army jeeps and trucks crossing the improvised barricades and burning tires was a routine matter. The army which was earlier stationed in various cantonments had been called to control the rapidly worsening law and order situation in the cities. At the same time, situation on the borders was getting no better; testing times were for sure looming. 1800 kilometers away from the turmoil and turbulence of East Pakistan in house no. 32, Nighat was keenly listening to the routine radio news bulletin. She was the wife of a naval officer posted in Karachi. The revelations of Radio Pakistan’s bulletin were not at all an assuring melody for young Nighat. She could make out that worsening circumstances and growing insurgency in the eastern wing was leading to an inevitable all-out war. Absorbed in these thoughts, she stood up from her sofa and started walking towards the windowpane where she could see her children playing in the lawn. She went out to the lawn with her unfinished cup of tea and sat there. A gust of cold winter breeze was touching her face, but it was not cold enough to pull her out of her warm thoughts–thoughts of her two young brothers, for whom she was like a motherly figure. Her brothers were serving in the Army as young Captains and were deployed at the fronts, one serving in the Engineers Battalion and the other in an Infantry Battalion. While sitting in the lawn, with a cup of tea still waiting to be consumed, she pulled a page from her husband’s writing pad and thought of writing to her brothers, who by now had already reached the fronts. She had ambivalent feelings about being a loving sister or a patriotic citizen. She was not sure what to write to her brothers, whether to advise them to be careful or to advocate them to fight fearlessly for the beloved country. Finally, she got hold of the pen and started writing spontaneously. Whatever came to her mind, her pen started transcribing it on to the page. Without giving a second read, she placed both letters in envelops and asked her orderly to post it. Miles from the place of origination of the letters, one of her brothers, Captain Rasheed was laying minefields in Sialkot Sector and the other, Captain Naseer was sitting short of a Forward Defended Locality (FDL) in Chhamb Sector. 

Captain Naseer received the letter when he along with his unit had just moved out of Westridge, Rawalpindi and were camping near village Lakhanwal located on road Gujrat-Jalalpur Jattan. The young Captain opened the letter and smiled to see his sister’s handwriting saying, “My dear Naseer, today I am missing you a lot. I am quite worried as I am being reminded of both of my brothers in uniform and could not hold my tears. I am praying for the wellbeing of both of you. Situation on the fronts has worsened. At the Western front too, war seems imminent. Today I am missing you both a lot…”
This first part of the letter was incontrovertibly a clear reflection of the emotions of a loving elder sister for her two young brothers, all set to take part in an impending war. After the premise of sisterly love and prayers, the second part of the letter advocated her young brother, Naseer, to be steadfast in the cause of defense of the sacred motherland. Telling him not to worry about the family, the sacred cause of defending the motherland should supersede all his other concerns. She wrote to him that his duty to defend the country is calling him and he should not fall short of it. The young Captain read this motivational letter from his elder sister and placed it in the front pocket of his uniform. This letter was received on December 1, 1971, only a day before 42 Punjab received the code word “Chocolate”, a code word designated for moving from the camp to the concentration area. 42 Punjab was a part of 111 Brigade which was under the command of 23 Division. Opposing Pakistan’s 23 Division was Indian 10 Division comprising four Division including 191 Indian Brigade deployed at Chhamb.1 
The next day, Captain Naseer along with other company commanders went for the reconnaissance of the area. The sun of December 2, 1971 was about to set when the worn out officers fell back to the camp after a tiring day. In the fading light of the setting sun, Commanding Officer (CO), Lt Col S. K. Tressler summoned all his officers and told them about the Dos and Don’ts of the concentration area. Lastly, the CO forbade everyone from keeping any personal material such as diaries, and letters, etc. with them while going for the attack. Later, Captain Naseer summoned the men of his Company to brief them about their tasks, and at the end of his address, while looking at the setting sun, he said to his men, “If Allah has not destined for us to see tomorrow’s sun, then no power on earth can undo that destiny, so why fear, lets fight bravely for our motherland, as our duty supersedes every other concern, be it our lives”. After addressing his men, he started checking his own pockets for any personal material and started tearing the non-essential papers. While searching his pockets, he came across the letter by his sister. He pulled it out from his front pocket and instead of tearing it or leaving it behind, he thought for a moment that firstly nothing is going to happen to him in the war, and secondly, even if he gets killed and the enemy recovers this letter from his body, they will definitely dread such a nation whose sisters are writing to their brothers to fight bravely for the country on the front. “This would really bring shivers to the enemy”, thought Captain Naseer with a smirk on his face. So he proudly placed the letter back in the front pocket of his uniform. 
On December 8, 1971, the young Captain was ordered to lead a dawn attack on Indian defenses at Chatti Tahli. It was a cold December night when he, along with his men crossed the freezing water channels of River Tawi and mounted a spirited attack on the Indian positions. On seeing the Pakistani soldiers charging so valiantly, the defenders opened up with the weapons of all available calibers. The battlefield was echoing with the blending sounds of war cry and enemy artillery and machine gun fires. Under this very fire, Charlie Company was charging on the enemy positions manned by equally spirited soldiers of 5 Assam Regiment.2 Despite stiff resistance from the enemy, Naseer and his men reached near the defenders’ den and were barely 100 meters short of the enemy bunkers when the enemy artillery resorted to air bursts. One of the artillery rounds flew near him and exploded a few seconds before hitting the ground. The explosion was like deafening thunder, shaking the ground underneath and forming a mushroom of dust above. Amidst the dust, sharp splinters unleashed with all their momentum, piercing through anything and everything on its way. The young Captain who was leading his company a moment ago and charging towards his objective, suddenly felt a huge blow on his face. He was hit by the splinters on the left side of his face, and he fell on the ground a few meters short of the front line of enemy bunkers. His cheek bones were crushed and left eye was injured. The Captain lay on the ground unconscious, wounded and bleeding. The blood from his wounds started soaking his uniform and the letter placed in its front pocket. The lines in the letter, which reminded him of his duty “Tum ko tumhara farz pukar raha hay, apnay farz ki adaigi mein…” were now covered by his blood. What else could be a better manifestation of the commitment to the call of duty as advocated by the elder sister?

It was a cold December night when he, along with his men crossed the freezing water channels of River Tawi and mounted a spirited attack on the Indian positions. On seeing the Pakistani soldiers charging so valiantly, the defenders opened up with the weapons of all available calibers. The battlefield was echoing with the blending sounds of war cry and enemy artillery and machine gun fires. 

Soon the chaos and cries of the battle were over and the spirited dawn attack had concluded. Sun had started to rise and its Kiribati rays were lighting up the battlefield in a golden tinge. Young men were lying dead or unconscious on the pulverized battlefield in their khaki and olive green uniforms and amongst them was Captain Naseer surrounded by his fallen comrades. After around half an hour, the rays of dawning sun started falling on his eyes and he slowly woke up. He could feel dull pain on the left side of his face as gusts of breeze were scraping his exposed wounds. All he could remember was that he was charging on the enemy and yelling to communicate his men to increase their pace when suddenly, he was hit by a sudden blow of artillery splinters and all the sounds around him muted and he fell down like a knocked out boxer. In this semi-conscious state, his whole life started to run in his mind like a reel of film. He thought he was probably about to die and awaited angels to take him away. His 24 years of life was ending just a few days short of his much awaited 25th birthday, but he neither had repentance nor remorse. He knew he had lived enough out of his short life and he was dying as a satisfied man in a battlefield with his boots on. But he had one last wish before dying; he wanted to live long enough to know whether his company had occupied its assigned objective. He just wanted his heart to keep pumping till the time rescue party reached him so that he could ask them about the outcome of his company’s spirited attack. Surrounded by these thoughts, he knew that it would be painful for his family to bear this loss; he was especially concerned about his mother and how would she take the news. “Time heals all the pain and memories, and it will also heal the gloom of him dying young for his family”, thought Captain Naseer as he lay partially conscious on the battlefield. While he was lost in these semi-conscious thoughts, he suddenly realized that he was thinking quite logically, so in all probabilities, he was still alive. He tried to get up and realized that the left side of his face was numb and he could not see from his left eye. He placed his hand on his face to estimate the intensity of his injuries. He could make out that his cheek bones had been crushed; his jaw was hanging support-less and his left eye was drooping a bit out of its pocket. He thought he had lost his eye and the first thing that came to his mind was Adrian Carton de Wiart, a Belgium origin British Lieutenant General who had one eye. He thought with a patch on his eye like General Adrian, he would look quite dandy. Suddenly he heard a voice calling him, ‘Captain sahab, Captain sahab’. He turned and saw another wounded soldier laying a few yards ahead of him. There were total five men who had come under that fatal artillery round, three lying dead, one Captain himself and the fifth was this barely 18 years old soldier who was calling his company commander. He was hit by splinters in his neck and the wounds were bleeding profusely as he was asking for help. Captain Naseer, who himself was severely wounded, mustered up his strength and crawled towards the young soldier, taking him in his lap. After resting this young soldier’s head in his lap, he immediately pulled out his morphine injection to inject the wounded soldier in order to abate his pain, but to no avail since the needle of the injection was broken. Out of sheer frustration, he threw the morphine injection and pulled out his field dressing. When he had just placed the bandage on the wounds of the young soldier to stop his bleeding, the soldier grimaced and tried to utter something to his company commander. Wounds of both men, the 18 years old soldier and his 24 years old company commander were profusely bleeding, but they were holding on to each other, with the dead bodies of friends and foes all around them. He could make out that his wounded comrade wanted to say something, so he bent his neck to lend his ear close to the lips of the dying soldier, but before uttering his last words, the young soldier gasped his last breath and died in the Captain’s lap. He lifted his head from his lap and placed it gently on the ground, wrapping the same bandage on his wounded face. He tried to stand up on his feet, but he couldn’t as his wounds were still bleeding, causing too much blood loss to give him strength to stand up. He gathered whatever was left of his strength and stood up. He took a few steps shaking and started looking around. All he could see from his one eye was dead soldiers lying on the battlefield, some his own and some of the enemy. He could see that sun had risen and its bright rays were rendering some warmth to the cold morning of the December. Seeing the sun almost over his head, he could make out that it had almost been one hour since the conclusion of his company’s attack. He then saw two men of his company picking up the wounded and collecting weapons of the dead. He called them and inquired about the outcome of his Company’s attack. They came running towards him and told the Captain that the object was captured and enemy had been evicted, but due to some planning exigencies, both attacking companies, i.e., Bravo and Charlie had been asked to fall back. While they were talking, he heard the sound of tank engines followed by their bombardment. He, along with both men immediately started moving back, making out that the Indian tanks were coming behind them carrying out carpet bombardment. What a display of comradeship it was when the enemy tanks were behind them, bombarding the area and those dutiful men were helping their injured company commander in his evacuation. Seeing the condition of his company commander and the urgency of the situation, one of the men placed his company commander on his shoulders and started running, leaving the enemy tanks far behind. The wounded Captain asked his men to tell him the axis of the enemy tank fire, upon which he could guess if the enemy tanks were firing on the same axis which his company had adopted during their attack. So he told his men to divert leftwards to avoid the shelling of the tanks. Later, he reached Advanced Dressing Station (ADS), then Main Dressing Station (MDS) and finally to Combined Military Hospital (CMH), where he underwent several surgeries. A part of the flesh and skin of his thigh was used to fill his exposed cheeks. Bones from both the hips were cut and grafted in place of his cheek bones. A sling was made by folding the lower eyelid towards the nose to support his drooping left eye. 
After the war, Major Naseer again served in 42 Punjab as 2IC and later commanded his parent unit, 19 Punjab, from 1982 to 1984. As far as the letter is concerned, it remains with the family, framed and preserved in the house. The dried blood displays the proof of loyalty to the motherland and reminds of a sister’s love and her advice to stay strong and steadfast against all odds. 
Currently, my father-in-law has been diagnosed with tumor around his brain and like any spirited soldier, he is putting up a brave fight with his wits alive. He underwent three high risk surgeries for the extraction of tumor and is recovering well. Before one of his recent critical surgeries which continued for five hours, he was being taken on a stretcher to the operation theatre, a place which was not new to him. While the stretcher was being dragged, he was lying calmly on it, smiling at us. On seeing the smile and composure on his face, my father-in-law’s brother, Lt Col Rashid (R) told us that after the war when he was being taken on the stretcher for the surgery for the first time, he had the same smile and calm on his face. While recollecting the memories of 1971, he further told me that before the war, he and my father-in-law were spending leave at their parents’ home. My father-in-law joked with him saying, “When you would be laying a minefield and you would hear the artillery pounding, it would be a sign for you that your younger brother is charging on the enemy”.
I think it’s our wits that keep us going in hard times. When we show concern over his tumor, my father-in-law often tells us with a witty smile that since December 8, 1971, the day when he was fatally wounded, every single day is a bonus. He says, “When I was dying on the battlefield as a 24 years old young man, I was dying a satisfied man, and now in my mid-seventies, I wonder when I will come across death again… Will I be as satisfied as I was when I was lying wounded and dying in the battlefield?” Only a soldier like him can draw such comparisons.

1. Major General Shaukat Riza (R), “The Pakistan Army, 1966-71”. Page 180. Service Book Club, 1990.
2. Lieutenant General Israr Ahmed Ghumman (R), “Battle Honour of Chhamb”. Page 85. Marriala Technologies, Lahore, 2019.