The story of a few camps and many cramps : an account of training camps at NDA

1992

No story of any academy is ever complete without going through the camps that are designed to toughen up a cadet to the levels required by a soldier to survive the vagaries of the battlefield. Waise that can also be done by getting them all married, as an after effect of which they would prefer the battlefield any time, survive they will somehow.

All cadets go through a series of camps designed to train them for specific terrain, operations and weather........ Ok.... This is getting all to technical....... Camp matlab a test of your physical and mental endurance. These are organised once in every two terms.

Each camp requires a cadet to prepare himself adequately to be able go through it without any incident. The strength of the bond between course mates is decided during these outings and the real character of each cadet is fully exposed.

They say that if you really want to know something about an army man, ask his course mates, as they have seen him in his basest and animal instinct form. The way he has behaved during these tough times is how he will always behave when cornered. No amount of spit and shine can ever change that, though it may mask it.

Getting back to the camps. Each camp has a different setting and aim, so each requires a different kind of preparation. All of us have experienced extreme situations in them but still manage to garner a few smiles when we look back.

Camp 'Greenhorn' – a camp for novices

The preparation

This was the first ever camp that we attended and was held in the second term of NDA.

As the name suggests it was designed to orient the greenhorns i.e. the dukkis (second termers) with life in the field. A lot of interest was taken in this camp by the seniors of the squadron as it was the first such outing for a cadet.

The preparations included getting the kit ready, teaching basic survival techniques and the most important of all, map reading and navigation.

Map reading........ Sounds simple, doesn't it........ It should be as simple as reading a book, just pick a map and read it...... But, it wasn't so. Initially the map looked like a hieroglyphic document in colour.

Map reading class

Our basic training on the map tried to help us overcome it. The training usually started with us opening a map sheet and then proceed to roll, haunch, sprint, do push ups, so on and so forth till the end of class or as per the instructors fancy . So, by the time we left for camp the hieroglyphic designs continued to remain hieroglyphic with a few of them recognizable to a select few of us.

Off we go

The camp site

With this precious knowledge we set forth for Camp Greenhorn. The camps in NDA were held in the hills across the khadakwasla lake and the terrain was all rocky with very sparse jungles. We were taken to the camp site in buses and on reaching were told to pitch up our bivouacs (a small shelter made of two tarpaulin sheets and some rope).

Every activity in the camp was a competition like tent pitching, camp setup, camouflage and food preparation.

Khana Khazana

We were given dry rations and were told to prepare our own food. The two master chefs amongst us decided that our meal for the day would be khichdi (I believe all 15 squadrons had decided the same). They put all the ingredients together in a pot and poured in some water. We waited eagerly for our "Birbal ki Khichadi" to cook.

The cooks in action

When the lid was opened we found an exquisite multi layered dish. The outermost layer was of burnt khichadi, the second layer was of semi burnt, third layer was well cooked, fourth layer was semi cooked and the innermost ball of khichadi was uncooked. There was a clamour for the cooked portion but only a few could lay their hands on it. The rest were left to invoke other methods to quell their hunger

The slogging starts

There were long route marches planned everyday in the day and night. These marches required us to traverse large distances, over hills and through jungles, carrying a full battle load with weapons and radio sets. The load carried by each cadet could go up to 25-27 Kgs.

The route march on the fourth day was a night route march without any instructor accompanying us. There were 24 of us from November squadron and only 3 of us had mastered the art of giving intelligent looks in map reading and navigation classes, thus they were designated as map readers for the night march.

Each squadron was left at separate timings and half were sent on the reverse route. We were set forth after a couple of briefings and dhamkis by our Divisional officer Capt Mathews. Our start was full of josh and the cries of "up up Ninjas" rang in the evening skies.

We reached the first reporting point without any incident and reported our arrival to the officer placed there. We were then given the next point by him, which we were to plot and proceed to.

 We sat down to plot it, there was some discussion amongst our map readers as they could not reach consensus on which direction to take. They tried navigating using the stars and the moon and maybe the milky way too. I guess asking the gods for help would have been saner, as they wasted a good about 20 minutes fighting to lay claim on what each recognised as the Pole Star. Finally it was decided to go along with our Bihari babu who swore that he had been fully awake during this particular class.

Like I said, the hills had very sparse jungles, but our map readers were “chamatkari” and somehow led us into the thickest jungle they could find. The slope was so steep that in places we had to form a human chain to let ourselves down one by one. We cursed our stars and the navigators stars, and they in turn maintained a large gap from us, or it was quite likely that they would have been made to see some new stars by the rest of us. Lucky for them we spotted a village.

There was some function being held there and the men folk were dancing in a circle, they saw us and beckoned us over. We oriented ourselves with their help, a few of us even joined the dance for a few moments. We were pulled away by our map readers who were showing urgency to proceed, their bearings regained and we finally made it back to the camp in one piece.

We traveled over the same route in a day route march the very next day, but did not dare go down the same slope that we had traversed the night before. The map readers also did not dare to suggest any route even remotely close to that.

The return of the no longer novices

On the final day was planned a camp fire with a lavish dinner, and the next day early morning was to start our run back to NDA. The highlight of the camp fire was the famous "Tipsy pudding" of NDA, which was given in generous quantities to each squadron.

The run back was conducted as a competition between the squadrons and to win it was a matter of prestige. The distance of the run was around 25 km cross country off the map.

The November Squadron Gang

There was a tradition in NDA that on the final night of the camp 5th term cadets from the squadrons would sneak out of NDA on their cycles or any other means possible and come to the camp site. They would carry with them sweets for the 2nd termers and would motivate them for the next day’s run. In our josh, to welcome them, we cajoled the mess staff to give us an extra container of Tipsy pudding.

That night we all had an overdose of Tipsy pudding and sweets bought by the seniors.

We were ready early in the morning for starting our run back. We all had fallen in and there was a head count and a briefing. We were then given about 10 minutes to get ready, check our stuff and go around the corner. Our time to start came and the conducting officer blew his whistle for us to start, we started running but went a few meters and stopped. We were again ordered to start running, but we expressed our inability as a few of us had gone for that which is now not allowed under the "Swach Bharat campaign".

The excess off Tipsy had taken its toll and more than half of us had a case of "Loosies". The problem was compounded by the fact that answering the call of nature in dungarees with full battle kit was a challenge and a time consuming process.

Each call that was answered set us back by at least 10 minutes and to add to our woes was, rationed water. We could only carry a few litres per person. Reporting sick would have meant the squadron getting disqualified and that was unthinkable.

So we started and stopped, and started and stopped, and started and stopped...... One of us had a eureka moment when he decided to tear his dungaree bottom from behind so that his call time was reduced. Off course he ran a few paces behind the rest to maintain modesty.

After the run

But continue we did, dropping out from the run was not an option. We pulled and pushed each other, managed water from doubtful sources and finally reached the finish point at NDA in decent time, with half of us nearing dehydration. This experience begot in us such camaraderie, the nature of which has even now not lost its essence.

Most of us swore off Tipsy pudding for the rest of our NDA training....... The swear was easily broken in the next dinner night, but the quantity devoured did reduce significantly.

Camp Rovers : Boys to Men

Camp "Rovers" took place in the 4th term of NDA. This camp has the unique distinction of being classified as one of the toughest camps in the world for the age group.

It was a camp where the "thin" kids gloves used during camp Greenhorn were totally discarded and the only aim of this camp was to show us the limits of endurance of our body and mind. It was held on the hills surrounding the Khadakvasla lake. These hills were mostly barren and dry with a splattering of thorny bushes. This terrain, coupled with the heat of the month of May, made for a heady cocktail.

No wonder that "ROVERS" was lovingly called "Ragda Over the Vast & Endless Ranges of Sahyadri"...... How apt.

Map reading woes

By this term we had matured to the ways of the Academy and our physical conditioning was superb...... But....... for most of us the map still appeared as a document generated by the "Enigma" coding machine of Hitler's army. Our map reading practice was carried out on the hills around the NDA campus, the layout of which we as it is knew by heart and by lungs (x-country practice zindabad).

A few of us, as usual, where somewhat aligned towards reading maps and could navigate with a little decency. These map reading stalwarts, some of whom were involved in the navigation debacle of "camp Greenhorn", were designated as map readers for "Rovers". Their past was neither forgotten nor forgiven, the fear of God was instilled in them by rest of the course mates using threats to life and limb.

The camp started as usual with full Josh and exuberance. We were transported to the camp site on buses and were immediately put on task setting up the camp. Some training was given to refresh our survival and navigation skills. The first couple of marches went off well.

The third day was a route march of almost 25 kms . We were transported to the start point on vehicles. At the start point we were given the coordinates of the first check point (CP). The map readers went into a huddle and decided on a direction to follow. They led and we followed with unquestionable trust. we maintained a steady pace and reached the first two CPs in good time.

At the second CP we were given the coordinates for CP 3 and as was customary the map readers spread their maps and started plotting, while the rest of us filled our water bottles and rested our legs. As usual there was some disagreement amongst the navigators regarding the next point. This time Bihari babu lost out to Khalsa Randy. He called out to us to get moving and we followed his lead.

We walked for some distance and in front of us loomed a formidable rocky hill, Randy started climbing. We stopped him and asked him to confirm again before starting the climb. We opened our maps and he pointed to a magenta line and said "yar yeh ‘skyline’ marked hai aur yeh dekho CP 3 yahan skyline ke upar marked hai. We will have to climb this hill", this deduction was supported by the rest of the navigators. Our lost looks helped them quell our doubts quickly.......... and we marched on.

After a great deal of effort we reached the top of the hill and faced another slope ahead. We kept climbing and climbing and climbing till we reached the actual top of the mountain (it was no longer a hill).

The time was 1230h and we had been climbing for almost an hour and a half. From where we stood we could see the barren, rocky mountain top stretching as far as eye could see.

Randy was all excited as he pointed out that this was the skyline marked on the map and we just had to follow that to reach the CP, and thus we continued. The afternoon sun was beating down on us mercilessly and our water supply had dwindled to critical levels. We kept following Randy's skyline for the next 2 hours, with no sign of the next CP. Our water had finished a long time ago and the thirst was getting to all of us.

We caught hold of the navigation party and tried to negotiate a solution with them. We had to take some decision as we knew we could not survive long on top of this mountain without water. We spread out to search for some clue and saw a village way down in the valley, some distance away from the foothill. We reached a consensus that we had to quit our quest for CP 3 and had to climb down to survive. Having decided on the best course of action we started our descent.

Getting a natural scrub in the shrub

The descent was way more difficult than the ascent. It was a sheer slope with loose rocks, I felt like Sylvester Stallone in the movie "Cliff Hanger". Each step would send rocks flying over the ones below. Half way down we entered a large bushy patch with thorny branches. We were getting a complimentary herbal scrub over and over again, scratching our exposed skin.

It was 3.00 pm and we had been moving without a drop of water for the last 2 hours in this heat and had been on the go for almost 8 hours. The effects of dehydration were setting in and tempers were running high. Someone at the end of the line shouted "यार अगर मैं map reader party तक पहुंच गया तो यह लोग नही बचेंगे"...... but the poor chap could not muster enough energy to reach them, so the map readers were safe for the moment.

 We finally reached the bottom of the hill and trudged towards the village. On the outskirts we came across a shallow well, the water in the well was covered with algae and had a bunch of frogs frolicking in them, just like in the fairy tale of the princess and the frog. I removed my bottle cover, cleared the surface and filled it with water. A voice from behind said "bhai, yeh pani ganda hai" .…... Ganda..... Itni der se pani ko taras raha tha, aur ab milte hi attitude..... I replied "dekh frogs saare zinda hain, unko kuch nahi hua toh humko bhi nahi hoyega..... Just bloody drink it", luckily sense prevailed and we had some water (no one kissed a frog because had the frog turned into a princess then uske liye pani kahan se laate)

Rejuvenated after the drink we continued in search of CP 3. A few miles out of the village the map readers started shouting in excitement... "Oye Cp 3 mil gaya, come fast". We all ran as fast as we could and reported to the officer there, who gave us a surprised look and informed us that this was not CP 3 but CP 5..... We had missed two CPs. It was getting very late and there was a night march also planned later, so we were told to proceed directly to the finish point.

The map readers remained incognito for the rest of the day. No one knew where we had gone wrong. Our squadron instructor got all of us together and burst a few blood vessels trying to get to the root of the problem. It was enlightenment for him when he caught our mistake. It seems that what the map readers had called the skyline was actually the district boundary, he explained to us that skyline can never be marked on the map.

Had our water not finished we would have measured the mountain tops of the complete Sahyadri range, all thanks to our mahan navigators.

The rest of the camp went of normally without any incident and we all returned wiser, with a resolve to take more interest in the map reading classes.

Camp Torna – The grand finale

Camp Torna also called Trishul(for the tri-service portion) was the camp held in our final term at NDA, 6th term. This was the culmination of our integrated training in NDA as cadets for Army/Air Force/ Navy.

After the Rovers experience, this camp was a breeze. It started with each of us being taken for specialised training with respective services i.e. Air Force cadets went for visits to Air force bases, Naval cadets went to visit ships and Army cadets................. picked up their packs and weapons et al and headed for the hills, preparing the ground for the rest.

The pattern of the camp changed, in that the induction was also by a route march.

The problems of map reading had changed colour. We all Army guys were by now well versed with reading the map, the problem was now of plenty. Each one of us considered himself to be the best decipherer of the map. To decide on which direction to follow now became even more problematic than in earlier camps as each had his own version to offer. After a lot of "पहले में" it was decided to have three map readers and rest of us were to quietly follow.

The induction went off easy and we covered the route of 30 kms comfortably. On reaching the camp site, we were told to design our defensive layout, mark our trenches and then start digging....... Bloody they wanted us to dig into the rocky mountain using tools meant for digging up soil. This was our introduction to the variation between requirement- demand - supply that we all would have to face in our career...... You require a truck, but demand a gypsy and get  supplied a motorcycle.

Anyways, we set upon the task with a positive outlook of "ho jayega" and started attacking the ground with whatever we could lay our hands on. A smart aleck amongst us suggested "yar yeh do biggest trench Air force aur navy walon ke liye chodh dete hain, waise bhi maze kar ke aa rahe honge saale, thoda pathar ka feel hone do unhe bhi". Any suggestion that reduced work load even a teeny weeny bit was most welcome, we spent more time selecting the rockiest part for our brethren than in digging the rest.

Naturally our digging had not progressed much and the sun set on us. We continued digging by the light of kerosene lanterns. Our cut off time was early morning. Exhausted by the proceedings of the day most of us had dozed off by 1 o'clock in various positions.

As luck would have it our night guards Agni and Parry dozed off before the rest and did not notice Maj Mandeep Singh, our Divisional officer approach our location. Mandy sir, as he was called by all, did his best to come fully observed with his swagger, and boy did he fail. None amongst us was in any state of wakefulness to see him coming. Mandy sir picked up Agni's weapon and hid it in a bush and made a noise loud enough to wake us from our slumber. The guards immediately changed their expression from "kya hua bey" to "Thum, kaun aata hai" trying to look their brightest. Meanwhile we all had fallen in as asked to by Mandy sir.

Agni and Parry where a little late in joining us. Mandy sir called for a count of our weapons, which we did so. To his surprise all weapons were there, even Agni was standing with his rifle. He came to Agni and asked him "Beta khud bataoge ya phir mujhe mehnat karni padegi”, but Agni had nothing to say, he was as lost as anyone of us. Mandy sir strode towards a bush and produced the rifle that he had hidden, viola an extra rifle. All of us glared at Agni and parry, who , in turn glared back at us. Before anyone of us could react a cadet of "Mike" Squadron, from our neighbouring location on the mountain, came running towards us and without noticing Mandy sir shouted "Oye November walon, kissi ne koyee extra rifle dekhi hai". Mandy cleared his throat and the Mikey cadet froze, he instinctively knew that all of us were done for.

What Mandy sir did with November and Mike squadron for the next couple of hours is still embedded in the memory cells of our back and our knees. What actually transpired was that Agni and Parry while looking for their rifle drifted towards our neighbouring squadron, who themselves were in a stupor, and found a rifle without an owner (even today they claim that they mistook it for their own......but We know better).

The first night was thus gainfully utilised. As an afterthought we were told to realign our defences and prepare new trenches by next morning. The next day was spent in training and by evening we again started digging. Had we all dug in the same place, I am sure we could have struck oil by the end of the camp. We tried our level best but still managed to doze off by 12, but, the guards where made more vigilant.

It was around 1 o'clock in the night and a visit from the Divisional officer was expected anytime. All of us tried taking naps in batches but kept our rifles very close to us and our digging tools were also nearby. But the batches soon converted into full strength and all of us were soon dreaming of nothing. The night raid this time was by Capt Mathew, who unlike Mandy sir, slinked into our defences, our guards who were thankfully awake challenged him, which also was a signal for all of us to get activated.

Randy's trench was closest to Capt Mathews location so he did not get time to stand up and dig, he just sat on his knees in his trench, which he had managed to dig only 1 foot deep till then. Capt Mathew shone his torch on Randy's face and saw him take wild swings with his shovel, he felt that Randy's trench was already knee deep, which was good progress. Randy got a good show for that and Mathew sir moved towards our trench.

Me and my buddy Mahey had managed to dig in fairly deep,  but at that time we were in REM stage. Mahey felt some movement nearby and woke up with a start, in panic he picked up his pick axe and started digging. Mathew sir shone his torch on him and in his characteristic drool said "you blaady chap, what are you doing with your rifle"..... Shit....... I quickly motioned to Mahey to stop, as in his exuberance to appear engrossed in digging, he had picked up his rifle instead of his pick axe and was attacking the ground with it. Mathew sir almost suffered a stroke............. There went our second night, this time under the wings of Capt Mathews.

After this incident our rifles was guarded by us like Kohinoor diamond.... A lesson learnt hard but fast.

The Fly boys and Naval dopes joined us after a few days and they were immediately assigned their trenches and duties. We had all but forgotten to keep the tough ones for them and they were a happy lot.

The run back to civilisation

The last day of the camp was as usual a run back to NDA of around 45 kms and which again was a competition. The high point of the run was a river crossing. On our route was a rivulet in full spate which we were supposed to cross without any expedients. The river was only about chest deep at its deepest.

We were expected to cross the river by walking across with our rifle held high. The crossing itself was not a problem, the problem was running the next 25-30 kms in wet dungarees, shoes socks etc, and getting the rifle wet was a big NO, once bitten twice shy.

The solution we arrived at was to strip to our undergarments, make a bundle of our clothing, packs and weapon, and then carry it across on our head. The location of the crossing was isolated and no civilian population was around. But while we were crossing, out of the blue came a Maharashtra roadways bus, chock a block full of passengers and halted on the track next to us. Kids in the bus pointed to us and shouted "mummy dekho fauji". Now the faujis did not want to come out of the water with such an audience in attendance. The NDA personnel deployed at the crossing site saw our predicament and made the vehicle move away so that we could continue our quest.

Life at the Academy was tough, but such lighter moments made our journey easier

There were more such camps to attend at the Indian Military Academy (IMA), which was our next port of call after NDA, and those were a different ball game altogether....... More about them later

Till then...... Take care and please do leave your comments, it is a motivation for me to continue my quest of chronicling our journey.

N.B.

The Tipsy pudding

This required a dedicated section as It is NDA's favourite and most famous dessert made of cake, fruits, jam and custard. No discussion of NDA is complete without its mention. All ex-NDAs swear by this pudding and have never been able to replicate the taste in their unit messes..... The cooks at NDA had magic in their hands