War With India – Our Story Continued, #15
Out in the villages the wheat harvest was complete. The parching loo had begun to blow in from the Rajasthan desert. It was time to move to the cool mountain town of Murree for intense language study. This pattern continued for the first few years until we passed our third year Urdu exam. And when the children reached school age, Mary Helen enrolled them in Murree Christian School where they became day students throughout the summer. After I became more proficient in Urdu, I’d travel back and forth to Rahim.
Down on the plains, we would often schedule a short-term Bible School to help deepen our co-workers in their understanding of Scripture. After the Innigers departed for a well-earned furlough, I was tasked with teaching these sessions. During my first opportunity, I chose an exposition of the book of Deuteronomy to lay a foundation in the law and salvation. It might seem a strange choice, but it is a foundational recording of deliverance from slavery and preparation for entrance into the promised land.
We met outside under some shesham trees. With the loo blowing it was incredibly hot. In spite of the inhospitable environment, I enjoyed immensely my personal study of this little read book of the OT. It became a joy to share my passion for the importance of the ten commandments, the schoolmaster to lead us to Christ. I’m sure the help I felt at that time was another example of the undergirding grace of God. The pastors and evangelists who attended seemed to appreciate the study.
In the summer of 1965, tensions with India reached a peak. Of course, tensions prevailed throughout our time in Pakistan and continue to this day. The main flashpoint was Kashmir. Pakistan felt all of Kashmir should have become part of Pakistan at independence since the majority of Kashmiris were Muslim. Instead, India claimed it by virtue of a Hindu Nabab being the ruler. The two countries skirmished until an international tribunal divided it into what Pakistan called Free (Azad) Kashmir and Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir.
That summer, Pakistan initiated Operation Gibraltar to infiltrate forces into Indian-held Kashmir with the purpose of precipitating a Muslim insurgency against India. India retaliated by launching a full-scale military attack on what was at that time, West Pakistan. Just as hostilities were at their height, we were due to travel from Murree back to Rahim Yar Khan. But the main road to Lahore was under serious threat, being close to the Indian border. It was deemed too dangerous for travel. What to do? We decided to travel by roads through the countryside at some distance from the Grand Trunk Road.
There were few petrol-stations on that route and because of the war, petrol might become rationed at any time. To solve that problem, we borrowed a trailer to carry a number of kerosene tins full of petrol. We made slow progress south on the one-lane roads. However, our spirits were high. We were seeing a new part of the country. When petrol got low, we stopped and filled the tank from one of the kerosene tins.
Stephen thought he would help, so when we were busy elsewhere, he would gather sand to dump in after the petrol. As you can imagine, before long we began to have problems. Fortunately, in some anonymous village, we found a mechanic who cleaned out the carburetor. And off we went with Stephen somewhat wiser.
We had planned to travel during the night when it was cooler. But as darkness fell, we drove through one village where some men with staves waved us to a stop. They accused us of signalling India with our taillights during the black-out that had been declared. While I had not turned on our headlights, I had completely forgotten that every time I braked, the taillights beamed red.
It took many appeals in our fractured Urdu to convince the village that we were just travelers not agents. But once satisfied they became typical hosts. They insisted we stop for the night. For our accommodation they brought out string beds so we could sleep right there by the side of road in the middle of the village. The kids thought it a great adventure. I’m not sure how much we slept, but in the morning, we left with many salaams.
Back in Rahim Yar Khan, authorities insisted we dig a dugout in the front lawn in case of attack by Indian bombers or the land forces which were only 30 miles distant. The Indian Rajasthan desert takes quite a bite out of Pakistan right in the area of RYK. For this reason, the thought that an Indian land incursion could cut Pakistan in half was uppermost on people’s minds. The administration assigned a soldier to guard our home. Several times Indian planes flew over as they attempted to cut the north-south railway or bomb the Lever Brother’s plant. Being an avid camera buff, I insisted on surreptitiously snapping a few shots of Indian planes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a zoom lens so they turned out as mere specs.
One day the soldier who had been guarding us, accused Mary Helen of leaving without permission. The local Superintendent of Police closely monitored our movements, especially those with American passports such as Mary Helen. Mary Helen explained to the guard that she hadn’t gone anywhere, but another missionary had. The Soldier shrugged, “Oh, all you foreigners look alike anyway.”
As it turned out this war was short-lived; seventeen days. However, it did inflict thousands of casualties on both sides and witnessed the largest engagement of armoured vehicles and the largest tank battle since World War II. Most of the battles took place in the north around Sialkot and Lahore. India was gaining the upper hand when the Soviet Union and the USA negotiated a ceasefire that led to the Tashkent Declaration. Indians lamented that a few more days of conflict and they could have captured Lahore. But as some Canadian Peace Keepers who visited us in the days that followed commented, the declaration of who won the war depended on which side of the border you were on.
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