Some Tales of Kargil war..

When I reached Kargil to report on the Kargil War, it was, to a large extent, a deserted town. I was part of a media group organized by the Army from Srinagar. The group, consisting of correspondents from major media networks, had waited in Srinagar for more than three weeks to obtain the Army’s permission to enter the war zone. I was traveling with a Film Division team in a DAVP van. We had carried enough bread, butter, biscuits, and rice to deal with the possibility of getting stranded somewhere in the war zone. Besides my tape recorder, I also had a satellite phone.
Crossing the 12,000-feet-high Zoji La pass, our first halt was at a Bofors artillery battery that was heavily shelling the Pakistani army across the high mountains so that our soldiers could advance. The sight was quite fascinating for the media. We were highly impressed by the firepower of the Bofors gun.
Even in those days, there were controversies about corruption in the procurement of this gun. It had been purchased from Sweden during the previous administration. A little further ahead, senior Army officers briefed us about the region and the Indian Army’s situation. The Tololing ridge near Dras town had been cleared of Pakistani infiltrators.
During lunch, we also spoke with some young Army officers. They seemed very enthusiastic. At that time, the main battle was raging at Tiger Hill—a steep peak west of Dras town. We could see flashes of guided missile bombardments there. From that point, we turned toward Kargil town, which lies to the east. The narrow road ran along a river, and part of it fell within the firing range of Pakistani soldiers positioned on the high peaks of the Kaksar range.
At a checkpoint, a BSF soldier stopped our vehicles to give some essential safety instructions: “You are in the enemy’s firing range. Keep about 100 meters distance between your vehicles. Do not turn on any lights, even during darkness. Drive fast, and even if you come under fire, do not stop.” That last instruction was frightening. When we saw the wreckage of some vehicles lying down in the river below, our fear grew even more.
By late evening, we reached a hotel in Kargil. The town faced daily artillery shelling from across the Line of Control. The hotel was a three-story building, but all journalists preferred rooms on the first floor. By now, they knew that the top floor could take a direct hit from a shell, and if a shell exploded in the hotel compound, its shrapnel could reach the ground-floor rooms. The Deputy Commissioner (DC) of Kargil was also working out of a nearby hotel because his office was within the firing range.
Most residents of Kargil had been shifted to tents at a safer location some distance away along the Zanskar road. We visited them the next day. The people were in great distress. They had released their livestock because there was no one left at home to take care of them. The day after that, we were taken on a road leading along the Indus River to five villages inhabited by the Aryan people. The Aryans have features quite distinct from the majority Ladakhi population. They decorate their turbans with flowers—except when there is mourning in the family. They usually work as laborers for the Army.
It was an Aryan shepherd who had first spotted the armed infiltrators and informed the Army. The Army had sent a reconnaissance team to verify the report. Pakistani soldiers ambushed and captured them, later killing them brutally. Their mutilated bodies were handed over to the Indian Army. This was a blatant violation of international norms. We spoke to Aryan villagers who had provided the information about the Pakistani infiltrators.
The next evening, while I was sending my report to All India Radio, Delhi, via satellite phone, the hotel owner came to my room. He said that until about a year earlier, he used to hear my name in All India Radio news bulletins. Before moving to Delhi, I had worked for six years as a senior correspondent for All India Radio in Srinagar.
In conversation, I found him to be an interesting person. “Sir, the Indian Army already had information about Pakistani infiltration plans since last October, but they didn’t take the necessary action. They had full details from their intelligence agents in Pakistan,” he said.
I interrupted him and asked how he could be so sure. “Sir, all details of the infiltration areas were received in a letter in October 1998. It was in Urdu, and an Army officer had called me to read it because they couldn’t read Urdu,” he explained in some detail. Things were beginning to make sense now.Then, while talking, he began to sob. I tried to console him, but he said:
“Sir, for us—the people of Kargil—Pakistan is not an option. We are Shia, and we know the atrocities faced by the Shia community in Pakistan. We want to remain in India. We have no other home. But the Indian Army won’t be able to protect us.” I asked him why he felt that way. “The evening I went to read the Urdu letter for the Army, I witnessed a shocking scene. Army officers were dancing with each other’s wives—holding their waists, singing, forming a train like schoolchildren, and playing. They were drinking alcohol. They made me sit outside the mess in the cold for over an hour. Do you think such people can protect us? The officer who had called me was drunk. It’s possible he didn’t even listen to me properly.”
He seemed somewhat agitated and a little hopeless. I discreetly shared this matter with an Army officer. He said: “Spy letters come every year. They are given proper attention, but they are often exaggerated or completely baseless. Some spies are double agents. Sometimes these letters are deliberately sent by Pakistani agencies to mislead us. Deploying soldiers on high peaks during winter is extremely difficult.” I didn’t send that story. It was raw and unverified.
On the fourth day, the press group left for Srinagar. That very day, in New Delhi, Army spokesperson Colonel Bikram Singh announced that Tiger Hill had been recaptured. Colonel Bikram Singh later became the Chief of Army Staff. He had also served as a Brigadier in Anantnag at one point. The saga of retaking Tiger Hill was to unfold in the weeks and months ahead. Soldier Sanjay Kumar would be awarded the highest gallantry honor—the Param Vir Chakra—on Republic Day 2020.
The Kargil War was won by brave Indian soldiers who thwarted the malicious intentions and conspiracies of a cunning enemy. It will be remembered in history. I, too, will always carry some memories of it because I witnessed it with my own eyes. 

(Ajeet Singh is an independent journalist from Hisar, Haryana. He worked as an AIR correspondent in Jammu & Kashmir for 19 years. He retired in 2006 as News Director at Doordarshan Hisar).