My name is Shiu Dagar, and I was born in Samasbur Khalsa, Delhi in 1923. As a child, my parents wanted me to go to school, but I wasn't interested in wasting my time with our poor education system. I spent most of my youth living a relatively normal, fun life.
When I was 18, I traveled to Nagpur, India to visit my older brother Hathi Singh, who was in the Jat regimen. While I was there, he strongly encouraged me to join the Army, so I enlisted and began basic training in Nagpur.
The British conditioned us, and taught us how to use their weapons and vehicles. We learned how to use pistols, steam guns and various artillery. They fed us well, but it was not a pleasant experience. At the time, I felt like for all the hard work we did, the Britishers underpaid us and my current pension from the Indian Government pretty much confirms that.
On top of being underpaid, we weren't treated very well by the British officers. They would beat us for every little mistake, and never grant us a leave. Some soldiers would be in camp for a year before they were allowed to go home for a break. Treatment was awful, but it was to be expected of people in power. The British controlled us.
I graduated from training in two years. I remember right before we were to be deployed, our senior command gave us alcohol, and fired us up about heading to war and killing all our enemies. The British also told us if we were successful during the war, they would leave our country and grant us our independence. That evening we were all very motivated for combat, but once we started traveling, the nerves set in. With every mile closer to our destination, the possibility of being killed seeped into our minds.
We traveled from Nagpur to Lahore via train and then proceeded in vehicles towards Afghani border. In some places throughout Afghanistan we had to travel on foot and were attacked multiple times by local tribesmen. You see Afghanistan was not taking part in the War as they pronounced neutrality after the Blitzkrieg, but they had economical and political ties with Germany back then. And neither British or Soviets trusted Afghani government so we had a small military presence there. But the local tribes did not want us on their land so someone constantly attacked us. Not only did we spend our waking hours battling them, they would invade our confines during the night and gut us or drop hand grenades in our camp as we slept. I wanted badly to go back home, but the war was on and I couldn't go anywhere.
We were mainly stationed around Indian-Afghani border and soon realized there was a water deficiency. It was hard for us to find water to even bathe or stay hydrated. Our camp was in the mountains, about seven miles from civilization. The terrain of the mountain made using vehicles impossible, so we had to walk everywhere. We would ride donkeys into town to get water or food, but sometimes the Pathan soldiers would kill the donkeys, leaving us without nourishment. Our camp would go 2-3 days without even eating.
The Pathan insurgents hid behind stones in the sandy mountains firing at us from a distance. We couldn't always see them, but they could surely see us. They would even cut our telephone lines so we couldn't communicate. They would kill us then steal our ammunition. I can remember entire 25-30 men platoons being murdered by the Pathan, who would steal all their weapons and artillery.
I can remember one instance; I was in a group of five soldiers patrolling the area. It was dark , but we still saw the Pathan coming to attack us. We shot at them and they scurried away. They must have been the soldiers who only had knives, because they didn't shoot back.
Also they would kidnap our platoon members. I remember once, we received a message telling us that a local tribe wanted ammunition, and if we didn't give it to them they would kill our comrade. We negotiated for two months before they finally released him. Upon his return, he told us about his terrible ordeal. He said they were barely fed, and often beaten.
The British were aware of the threat, and would only send us Sikhs and Hindus out on the dangerous missions. I felt they were scared of the tribesmen. They would escort us occasionally, but if the terrain we were to travel was too risky, we were sent out alone. I can recall that when we were transferring to other areas in the mountains to set up a camp, we would never know exactly where we were going. The British would tell the senior command, and we would simply follow them through the mountains. When they stopped, we realized we were at our new destination.
After three long years, we returned to Bareilly in 1947. Over half of our platoon was dead at the hands of the Pathan soldiers. 14 other people from my home village enlisted with me, and I was the only one who survived. The commanding officers told us we could continue on in the Army or be discharged and go home. I immediately decided to retire.
After a couple more months, we were finally free from the British rule. I started a farming business with my three brothers. We evenly split our 150 hectares of land, and ran our own businesses.
I was married in 1951. I had two Sons, and now I have three Grandsons. When I left for the Army, our family was in dire shape. Because of the efforts of my Brothers and I, our family is now quite prosperous. We made a nice living, and now my oldest son takes care of me. The war was a frightening experience. I can remember so many moments of hoping to be home, and luckily I got that wish and have lived a full life.
