What is the fundamental guiding principle in the Armed Forces – Never volunteer!

Remember Colonel Hathi from Junglebook? Remember the scene where he lines up his troops and asks for volunteers for a ‘special mission’ – to take one step forward? Every member of his gang of course, hurriedly takes one step back! And why am I alluding to this? Well, if there is one thing that the Fauj teaches you very early in life, it is to ‘never volunteer’ for anything.

But then Junglebook was only a fantasy movie and some of the more practical of my 12 readers would perhaps prefer a more concrete example. So, allow me to hark back to my days in the National Defence Academy (NDA). Us freshers were lined up by Genghis (you will find a description of Genghis here and here, but essentially he was a sixth termer who never took a liking to geniality) one day and after giving us a stirring lecture on patriotism, guts, glory and courage, asked us – “Who amongst you Killers wants to be a para commando?” (Well, truth be told, we were in Kilo Squadron but ‘Who amongst you Kilos wants to be a para commando,’ you will agree, would not have the same gravitas. Hence, we called ourselves ‘Killers’.) His stirring lecture stirred us so much that we were all ready to become para commandos that very moment. All 25 of us, each as eager as a puppy with a new toy, raised our hands. Some even started jumping in excitement like school children, none more than Cadet CM (yes him again. He does seem to crop up quite frequently in my tales. For example, here and here too).  

This eagerness pleased Genghis no end. Looking fondly at Cadet CM, he addressed us, “Alright then, let’s start with a little bit of practice. All of you remove your handkerchief and hold it over your head clutching the diagonal ends, like a parachute”, said Genghis. Now admittedly, this had us a bit fogged, but then questioning Genghis and his methods was sure to invite his considerable wrath; and so we stood, a bit comically, so. He next asked us to make a single line. This started a bit of a stampede amongst us, what with some of the ‘initiative types’ being eager to impress upon Genghis their unlimited enthusiasm for becoming a para commando. Cadet CM of course muscled his way right to the front of the line, his face radiating excitement and para commandoesque fervour.  

“Follow me”, said Genghis as he ascended to the top floor of our squadron, with Cadet CM shouting ‘Up Up’ and the rest of us responding with ‘Killers’ all the way. He walked to the end of the corridor, opened the window and looked at us expectantly. We were mystified of course, and wisps of apprehension had started seeping into our brains. The volume of the Cadet CM’s ‘Up Up’ too had dampened considerably and the ‘Killers’ now sounded like a sorry whimper. Genghis then gave a detailed briefing on what was expected of us. Apparently, we were to (still holding the handkerchief overhead), walk to the window, climb onto the sill, take a deep breath, shout ‘KILLERS ARE THE BEST’ and jump out of the window!

To say that the wisps of apprehension morphed into dense shrouds of unnamed dread would only be an understatement. His briefing resulted in a reverse stampede with Cadet CM and other ‘initiative types’ quickly repositioning themselves at the end of the line; with Cadet CM particularly, exhibiting determined reluctance to go anywhere near the window. And that is when dear readers, Genghis gave us this prescient advice – “All right you nincompoops, this was just a ruse to drill into your heads the very essence of military life, the very foundation on which the edifice of military life stands, the very cornerstone of survival – never, ever volunteer for anything – task or opinion included.” Whew!

Most of us took his advice to heart and I for one adhered to it faithfully till my last day in uniform. But (you know how it is) some people are sceptics. They question, they demur. I too had one such coursemate (no, not Cadet CM this time). Let us cut to about seven years later when both of us were young Lieutenants. The Navy, as a token to egalitarianism, often seats individuals during official dinners in a manner that every table has a mix of seniorities. A table of ten for example would have a couple of Lieutenants (incidentally me and my coursemate on this occasion), and odd Commander or Captain, maybe an Admiral, and wives of corresponding ‘seniorities’.

On one fateful dinner we were so seated when an Admiral’s wife threw what seemed an innocuous question to us Lieutenants – “What are your frank opinions about NWWA?” Now NWWA stood for Naval Wives Welfare Association (the nomenclature has changed since I understand). It comprises naval wives exclusively and the association is aimed at looking after their welfare and overall does a fairly good job. On the other hand, and perhaps unjustly, it is also perceived as one that exercises inordinate influence over officers and encroaches into the official domain. Junior officers (and their wives) particularly, perhaps out of ignorance, or perhaps justifiably, or perhaps due justifiable ignorance, like to keep a safe distance from all things NWWA.

I, always a lover of frank opinions, was about to unveil a long and scathing passage on all the ills that afflict NWWA, when I suddenly remembered my guardian angel Genghis’ advice (bless him). Resultantly, I maintained the reserve of, what Wodehouse would call, a stuffed frog. But my coursemate, having forgotten all about Genghis, volunteered his frank opinion, and with freedom that could be described as, refreshing. Without so much as a preamble he launched “NWWA should be scrapped altogether”, as his opening salvo. The lady started visibly and she looked censoriously down her nose at the youngster like an annoyed headmistress. That should have warned the youngster. But I could see that he in his formative years hadn’t had someone acquaint him with this sage advice – when in a hole, stop digging. Contrarily, perhaps enthused by the sound of his own voice and oratorical brilliance, he continued with a string of damning statements on the uselessness of NWWA, it’s wastefulness of scarce resources, its wanton interference in official matters, its rigidity in hierarchy, etc. His closing salvo if I remember correctly, was “the only thing NWWA excels in, is being an absolute nuisance.”

As can be guessed, his mesmerising prose had thrown a pall of silence at the table as others looked at him – as one would at an innocent lamb frolicking innocently before it is led to the slaughter. It needed no guesswork to see that his monologue did not go down well with the headmistress and she, (again as per Wodehouse), took it big. Seemingly straining at the leash, she butted in nostrils flaming, and to put it succinctly, ‘let him have it.’ Over the next fifteen minutes, the youngster got a scholarly discourse from the lady, as she proceeded with masterly lucidity, to highlight a few dozen faults in his character. It would suffice to say that the youngster, at the end of it all, had the look of one who had a ‘sutli’ bomb explode under the seat of his trousers. Disillusioned I think, is the word.

Gallingly for him, her stern tone soon drew the attention of other tables and a hush descended over the entire dining hall, with her words ringing clear in the air. About 150 pairs of eyes were fixed on the unfortunate youngster, none more piercing than those of the Commander-in-Chief’s wife. The youngster espied her mumbling something to her husband, who in turn (in the youngster’s now feverish imagination) seemed to gesture to the Chief of Staff to find out the youngster’s Commanding Officer’s name. Obviously, he squirmed like the dickens and tucked, though scarcely feasible, his tail even more firmly in.

The underlying message from the headmistress of course was that he was basically a buffoon, an imbecile, a muddled headed fool. The youngster however, missed this message altogether. What he gathered from the incident was a reinforcement of the deep wisdom in Genghis’ words – never, ever volunteer for anything in the Forces – task or opinion included!