Sniper's shot

Life in the army is a delicate dance with fate—a journey where each day is a new chapter in a story filled with uncertainty, camaraderie, and resilience. The fog of war, both literal and metaphorical, shrouds every moment in suspense, where the mundane transforms into the extraordinary in the blink of an eye. My time in the Rashtriya Rifles, stationed at Bona Devsar, epitomized this paradox of routine and unpredictability.

From D Company to Regimental Headquarters

It was during my tenure in Pahalgam that my proficiency in drafting reports and correspondence caught the attention of my superiors. My transfer from ‘D’ Company to the Regimental Headquarters (RHQ) of the 6 Rashtriya Rifles came as both an honor and a challenge. The RHQ camp, perched atop a mountain painstakingly leveled by the Engineering Regiment, was a marvel of ingenuity—a sanctuary amidst the hostile terrain of Jammu and Kashmir.

My office, situated on the edge of this flattened summit, had a commanding view of the valley below. With its wooden doors and glass windows, it stood as a beacon of light and activity in the quiet, brooding darkness of the mountains. Yet, as the events of one fateful night would remind me, even the most secure of locations could be rendered vulnerable in an instant.

The First Snowfall

As autumn gave way to winter, the valley prepared itself for its first snowfall. The air carried a biting chill, and the mountains, already dusted with frost, seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. That evening, I sat alone in my office, waiting for the Operation Party (OP) to return from their patrol. Snowflakes, delicate as cotton, floated gently to the ground, painting the world in a pristine white.

To mark the occasion, I had procured a bottle of rum—a small indulgence to accompany the historic snowfall. The warmth of the drink and the soft glow of the electric lights in my office created a cozy reprieve from the cold outside. The generator hummed steadily, lending an air of normalcy to the night.

As I bent down to pour myself another peg, the calm was shattered.

A Sniper's Shot

A sharp crack split the silence, followed by the tinkling sound of breaking glass. My heart leapt to my throat as shards of the window landed on my desk. The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning—it was a sniper shot. The wooden chair clattered to the floor as I instinctively dove for cover, adrenaline surging through my veins.

The window, behind me just moments ago, was now a jagged void, and the bullet had left its deadly mark. My mind raced. I knew I was a target, my lit office a glowing bullseye in the darkened camp. Crawling towards the switchboard, I switched off the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

Outside, tracer bullets painted fiery arcs in the cold night air, their luminescence betraying the sniper's location on a distant mountain. The OP arrived at the main gate amidst the chaos, their Officer-in-Charge quickly apprised of the situation by the alert guards.

The Walnut Tree and Survival

In the darkened office, I steadied my breathing and assessed my options. Stepping out cautiously, I took cover behind a walnut tree near the building. The rough bark pressed against my back as I waited, every sound amplified by my heightened senses. Minutes felt like hours. Gradually, the gunfire subsided, and an uneasy stillness returned to the camp.

With the immediate threat neutralized, I relocated to another office surrounded by my comrades and submitted the OP’s report. It was a small act of defiance against the shadowy adversaries who sought to disrupt our mission.

Morning Revelations

Dawn revealed the full extent of the sniper’s attack. The bullet had pierced multiple wooden walls of the offices, a chilling reminder of the narrow escape I’d had. My Second-in-Command (2IC) inspected the site and inquired about the incident. As I recounted the events, his eyes fell on the rum bottle, glass, and water bottle lying beside my chair.

A wry smile spread across his face. “Rum bacha gayee tumhe… Lucky ho!” he quipped, his laughter a welcome relief in the otherwise somber morning. His words carried a truth that resonated deeply with me—I was indeed fortunate to be alive.

A Changed Camp

The incident prompted immediate changes. Curtains were hung in all offices and living quarters, masking the light that had made us vulnerable. The camp adapted, as it always did, to the evolving threats of our environment. Yet, for me, the experience left an indelible mark.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of living a second life, a life borrowed from the brink of death. Each day became a gift, a chance to appreciate the bonds of brotherhood, the beauty of the mountains, and the resilience of the human spirit.

Reflections in the Fog

The fog that descended upon Bona Devsar was not just a veil of nature but a metaphor for the uncertainty that defined our existence. It blurred the lines between safety and peril, friend and foe, life and death. Yet, amidst this fog, there was clarity—a profound realization of what it meant to serve, to protect, and to persevere.

The sniper’s shot was more than an act of aggression; it was a stark reminder of the precariousness of life in the army. It was a lesson in vigilance, a testament to the strength of the human spirit, and a moment that would forever shape my understanding of courage.

As I recount this chapter of my life, the memories remain vivid, etched in the canvas of my mind like the bullet holes in those wooden walls. The fog may have obscured the path ahead, but it also revealed the unyielding determination that lay within—a determination to face the unknown, to endure, and to emerge stronger on the other side.