Keep on (Road) Rollin’
While hard to believe, this actually happened
Colonel Ranjit was going to miss the Mhow cantonment. He had hated it at the beginning — the battalion’s buildings were tiny and close together, the heavy rains forced them indoors most days, while the heat and humidity forced them outside immediately after the rain stopped. But it had grown on him. After two years here, the battalion was being posted out to Kashmir. He wasn’t excited at the prospect of his battalion being there — his soldiers would be on constant alert, interacting with and protecting a potentially hostile local population.
A knock on his office door interrupted his worries. “Sir, MES Colonel Gupta is here to see you.” Ranjit nodded at his orderly and asked him to send Gupta in. The Military Engineer Services — or MES — builds and maintains the military’s infrastructure across the country, from homes and offices to roads. When one battalion moves out and another moves in, they make sure that the infrastructure hasn’t been unduly damaged, make necessary repairs, and build any additional facilities the new battalion may need.
Gupta walked in, his dress shoes squeaking on the just cleaned floor. He sat down at Ranjit’s office desk, opposite him. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Gupta explained why he was there. “I wanted to go over the list of issues my men have found, and see if you have any reservations about them.” Ranjit stared at Gupta confused, while Gupta avoided eye contact by opening up the file he had brought with him and burying his face in it. The MES checks at the end of a battalion’s stay are usually a formality, Ranjit thought. Unless the battalion’s committed egregious damage to any of the buildings — like demolishing an entire wall — the MES had never had any complaints in his past six moves.
Gupta on the other hand, had a long list of issues. He rattled off a litany of the banal like “cracked tile in bathroom”, “water logging damage in bathing area”, and “chipped walls in truck garage.” What did he expect when six hundred young men lived and worked in dense conditions for two years? “So, in total, that’s going to be five lakhs and sixty thousand in penalties that the battalion is going to have to pay.” Ranjit balked. Why he asked Gupta. This is normal wear and tear, which had never been an issue before. “Sorry. My senior officer’s orders are clear — I cannot sign your ‘okay to move out’ papers until these damages have been paid for.”
Ranjit wasn’t a contemptuous person. But as his anger rose, he couldn’t help but look down at this bureaucrat glorifying himself in a military uniform. He wondered if Gupta would ever come within a hundred kilometers of combat, or if he’d ever even taken weapons’ training. Ranjit wondered if after retirement people like Gupta call themselves “veterans.” Stupid bricklayers. But he held his tongue and figured he’d backchannel to figure out what was going on. He gave Gupta a non-committal response, and as soon as Gupta left Ranjit called his counterpart at another Sikh Light battalion. The news wasn’t good. Gupta’s senior hadn’t requested extra stringent inspections, Gupta had decided that himself. He had just joined his Brigade and was keen to impress his commanding officer. He’d given a hard time to various other Sikh Light battalions as well. But none of their damage fees amounted to anything near the number he’d quoted Ranjit.
Ranjit was in a quandary. If he didn’t pay the fees, his battalion couldn’t move out. While he held the MES in little regard, military leadership viewed their paperwork as crucial for movement during peacetime. On the other hand, if he did pay, his senior officers would be shocked at the amount, would chastise him for allowing this much damage, and would dock him points for any future promotions. And to add to that, this amount would come from the battalion’s funds which meant fewer events for the soldiers — whose celebrations were already rare.
His worry must have been apparent as he left his office for a tea break at the battalion mess. “Ki hoia Sirji?”, his junior commissioned officer (JCO) Balbir asked in Punjabi. “What happened sir?” Ranjit and Balbir had become close over four years of serving together. Ranjit grew up in Amritsar, while Balbir grew up in a village near Punjab’s border with Pakistan. Balbir played the crucial role of intermediary and cultural-translator between the city-boy commanding officer and the soldiers. Balbir was the reason Ranjit understood his soldiers so well. An understanding that enabled Ranjit to take the right actions and use the right rhetoric to make him beloved to the battalion’s soldiers.
Ranjit told him about the conversation with Gupta and how the MES officer had turned small issues into bureaucratic hurdles. He also voiced his scorn for the MES. He didn’t feel guilty, most of his men felt the same way about the military’s support staff, and anyway Balbir was a confidant. Balbir didn’t say much as Ranjit ranted, but Ranjit knew his JCO well enough to know he was getting riled as well. Balbir’s back stiffened, his chin tipped up a bit, and his jaw muscles tensed. Balbir held his hands behind his back, but Ranjit knew they’d both be balled up in fists. From Balbir’s perspective, his commanding officer was the living embodiment of the battalion. If someone crossed his officer, they’d insulted the battalion and its entire rich history.
After Ranjit finished his rant, Balbir barely paused before saying “sir, please let us deal with it.” Ranjit nodded in acquiescence. He figured Balbir would round up the Sikh Light men and make some of the basic repairs themselves. Ranjit trusted Balbir’s judgement, it had been accurate and mature in even the toughest situations. Plus, Balbir was incredibly resourceful. He’d give them two days to work it out, and then decide what to do.
Years later, when telling this story, Ranjit would always stop at this point and say “I didn’t recognize the look of mischief in his eyes.” And he couldn’t have imagined how events would unfold after that.
The next morning, once Ranjit got dressed for the day, he took his usual route to the regimental dining hall, or “mess.” It was custom for the unmarried Sikh Light officers to eat their meals at the mess. Ranjit didn’t resent having to leave his home to eat or waiting a full hour after waking up to eat his breakfast. He liked the mess, he liked the food they prepared, and he liked meeting his comrades.
His usual route passed by the old parade grounds. Though usually empty, the MES had set up camp there. Their officers had moved into the two two-story buildings next to the ground, while the men lived in the barracks on the far side. In the foreground, on the old ground, they’d constructed three temporary sheds to hold their equipment. And around it, they’d parked a bull dozer, an excavator, cement mixer, and a few transport trucks.
But what caught Ranjit’s attention today wasn’t the buildings or equipment, it was the number of people running about. The old ground was awash in commotion. MES men were running into the sheds repeatedly, carrying out equipment, and laying them on the ground. A small group had gathered around the vehicles and were inspecting each one in a hurry. Odd, it’s almost like they’re taking inventory, but why with this much urgency? thought Ranjit. It was strange enough that Ranjit was compelled to get closer. As he approached the grounds, he noticed that there wasn’t a single officer outside. But there were a few men running into and out of the ground floor of one of the two-story buildings. As he looked, he saw three SUVs screech to a halt outside the building. Men jumped out of the cars and rushed into the building. This was clearly the nexus of the commotion
He made his way to the building and peered into the apartment. In the living room he saw Gupta and two other MES officers huddled around a map on the dining table. The men who’d just pull up in the SUVs were standing just behind them. He stopped an MES man running by and asked what happened. “Someone stole our road roller sir!” he replied breathlessly, “the officers have ordered us to take inventory to make sure nothing else was stolen.” The man then turned and ran back to the old grounds.
When Ranjit faced back inside the apartment, he could hear the officers’ voices. “Okay, so we’ve done one sweep of the cantonment and not found anything,” Gupta said. “We need to do another, more detailed one,” replied one of the other officers, a tall fellow. “Yes, but we can’t risk them getting away meanwhile”, Gupta responded, a slight panic in his voice. “Here’s what we should do” the third said, his voice patient but authoritative, “send the cars out of the cantonment to find the road-roller, while the men inspect the cantonment on foot. It’ll allow us to do a closer inspection here, while making sure we don’t let them get too far if they’ve left the cantonment already.” The other two officers responded in agreement.
They then launched into what Ranjit could only describe as grown-men-playing-at-army-operations. They gesticulated at different points on the map. “We know that they could only have exited through these two cantonment gates, since the others are closed out to heavy vehicles.” “So that narrows it down to these two main roads out of the cantonment — one running south, and the other running south-west.” “The road-roller went missing some time around 5am, after the last patrol and just before sunrise.” “And we know that these road-rollers move at a maximum speed of 5 kilometers per hour…so they can only be 10-15 kilometers away”. At this point the tall officer pulled out a protractor, and began measuring distances on the map “We have to send the SUVs to this village, Daspur, and the outskirt of this township, Javarman.”
Ranjit stepped away from the door and began walking away. This is crazy, he thought. The chances of anyone sneaking into a heavily guarded cantonment were slim. The chances of them getting out the cantonment undetected with a bright yellow, five-ton road-roller was zero. Or so I think. He would be glad to be proven wrong. He wasn’t exactly Gupta’s biggest fan and smiled at the heartburn Gupta must be getting right now. Behind him the SUVs pulled away from the building and tore down the road towards the cantonment gates.
All through that evening and the next morning, the cantonment could feel the MES’ anxiety. But no one besides Ranjit knew why. The MES group was not sharing what happened. Ranjit had been fortunate to be passing by when he did, and for asking one of the men instead of the officers, who he was sure would have been tight-lipped. The MES group hadn’t even enlisted the military police’s help. Ranjit figured that Gupta and his officers were deeply embarrassed that someone had stolen a heavy vehicle on their watch. Getting the police’s help meant writing a formal complaint, which meant Gupta’s seniors would find out right away. Bright yellow and five-tons, Ranjit gleefully recollected, some soldiers when you can’t even protect that. Damn right that’s embarrassing.
He let out a chuckle as he ate his breakfast at the mess. He’d was just about to finish his tea and get up when his orderly came by. “Sir, MES Colonel Gupta is here to see you.” Huh, why can’t he wait till I’m at the office?“Okay, I’ll come see him in the reception area.” Ranjit finished his last sip of tea on the walk to the mess’ reception. Gupta’s uniform looked crisp, but his face looked worn – the man clearly hadn’t slept at all last night. They’d scarcely exchanged ‘good mornings’ when Gupta asked “Could we speak in private?” Ranjit, still perplexed, led him to the mess’ study.
Once inside, Gupta fidgeted with his cap and cleared his throat a few times before speaking. The man was clearly uncomfortable. His discomfort made Ranjit uneasy. In his experience, when others are this uncomfortable they’re usually going to deliver bad news. “Uh so, um, we’ve…we’ve had a bit of a situation with our equipment. One of our, ah, heavy-vehicles, has uh…gone missing.” Ranjit feigned surprise. “Yes, and we’ve been searching for it since yesterday. We’ve looked within the cantonment, quite thoroughly. And even searched 20km outside the cantonment along the main roads. We can’t find it. More importantly, we can’t figure out who stole it — since no one can get into the cantonment without permission.” He paused here for a second. “I am sorry, Colonel Ranjit but I believe your men may be involved. We patrol our equipment nearly every hour, and the night the road-roller was stolen multiple patrols saw some of your men loitering nearby.” Ranjit was about to retort in anger, but Gupta pre-empted it. “I know it’s a serious allegation. But I assure you I, we, won’t file any complaint as long as we get the road-roller back. All I am asking is whether someone in your battalion can anonymously tell us where it is, and then we’ll forget this whole thing.”
Gupta’s words may have been threatening, but his face was a plea. Ranjit realized that this was a man asking for help. He summed up Gupta in his head — here was a man who desperately wanted to impress his boss, but found himself in a situation that would cast him in terrible light. “Okay, let me check with my JCO if he can ask around”, Ranjit responded. He sent his orderly to get Balbir. In the fifteen minutes it took for Balbir to get there, Ranjit and Gupta sat in uncomfortable silence. Both were glad when he finally arrived.
“Balbir, this is Colonel Gupta from the MES” Ranjit introduced Gupta in Punjabi. “Two nights ago, their road-roller went missing. Colonel Gupta’s asking if we can check with the men whether they know anything about this.” Ranjit left out Gupta’s allegations, that would insult Balbir and the men. “I can find out Sir”, Balbir responded. “The men know everything that happens in the cantonment. Could be that they know where this road-roller went.” Ranjit’s expression changed — Balbir was almost insinuating knowledge of the theft. “But, the problem is that the men don’t like the MES right now, and may not be willing to help. The damage fees have left a bad taste.” Balbir gave Ranjit a meaningful look, and then turned to Gupta with the same look. There was a hint of a smile.
Ranjit saw a hundred emotions pass through Gupta’s eyes. Anger at being so openly played with. Determination to prosecute the Sikh Light. Confusion on how that would help his cause, because these men could have hidden the road-roller anywhere in a 20km radius and he’d never find it. Doubt about whether they’d actually stolen it. Somber acceptance of the only option ahead of him. Finally he said, “We can waive those fees” and now his teeth grated together, “as a thank you to the Sikh Light.”
Balbir’s face shone with a big grin, “I will see what we can do Sir, you just sign the ‘okay to move out’ papers meanwhile”.
The next morning someone discovered the road-roller on one of the cantonment’s side roads. The MES men were mystified that it appeared on a road whose sides they’d inspected on foot, multiple times. But the man most stupefied was Ranjit himself, as Balbir explained to him what happened.
Two days ago, after Ranjit had finished ranting about Gupta’s damage fees, Balbir made a beeline for the Sikh Light men’s barracks. There he explained that the MES were holding the battalion to ransom. The men were excited to get back at the MES for this — out of a mixture of honor and boredom. They decided to take MES equipment hostage. That evening they led a small reconnaissance mission to study the MES camp area. They decided to break into the tool shed and steal equipment. Then about ten of them took it in turns to watch the area through the night, waiting for a gap in the patrols. After six hours of waiting, they finally saw the patrols retire to the barracks.
The ten of them quietly but quickly made towards the sheds, armed with bolt cutters. They were in the shed in minutes. And that’s when they saw an irresistible opportunity. There was a small table just inside the shed’s door, on the left. On that table were neatly laid out and labelled keys for the heavy equipment. It took just a hasty, whispered conversation for them to pivot their plans. They grabbed the key labelled “Road-roller” and made for the vehicles. Two of them got in the vehicle and started it, six of them played look-outs and guided the vehicle out. And two of them ran back to the Sikh Light barracks.
What played out next was exemplary of military teamwork. It could have been used in Indian military case studies, if only it ever became public. The eight soldiers took the road-roller down one of the cantonment side roads, and turned off of it into an unused open space. There waiting for them were over a hundred Sikh Light soldiers with dozens of shovels. Over the course of the next few hours, these soldiers dug a hole 15 feet deep, 15 feet wide, and 20 feet long. With a ramp descending into.
Then they drove the road-roller into the hole.
And filled it back up.
Ranjit couldn’t believe it. He made Balbir show him the field where they’d dug the hole. And there in front of him, filled out in freshly dug dirt was a rectangular patch 15 feet wide and 20 feet long. The men had taken pains to flatten out the dirt and even mixed in dried dirt to camouflage the hole. Balbir told him that once Gupta had agreed to sign the ‘okay to move’ papers, the men had come back at night and dug the road-roller back out. They then brushed the dirt off, filled the hole back in, and drove it to the side of the road.
Balbir was glowing with satisfaction. Ranjit couldn’t hide his pride either. “Bole so nihal…” Balbir started the Sikh Light’s war cry in a talking voice, “sat sri akaal” Ranjit murmured in completion.
While hard to believe, this actually happened. To preserve anonymity I’ve changed the names of people, places, and regiments.
Great writing Karan!