“So, it’s set for tonight. At about 2 in the morning, the flood tide turns. All preparations to be completed by 1 a.m., with the crew at their stations. The whole unmooring operation will be done under complete blackout conditions and total silence. Once started, there is no looking back. Muster the crew at 4 pm in the mess room. I will brief them. During which I will require inputs from both of you as necessary.” With that the Chief Engineer and Chief Officer left the Master, Capt. Vidyadhar K Gaikwad to brood. And study, yet again, the navigation charts covering the approximately 40 nautical mile passage in the Pashur river in East Pakistan on which the port of Mongla is situated. He would have to guide his ship through this stretch of the river in order to reach the open waters of the Bay of Bengal. Without a pilot! And that too in darkness and all navigational aids switched off. Hopefully, he would make it to sea without grounding on a sand bank. Once out in the open sea, he would contact the Indian Navy. And request an escort into the safety of an Indian port.
On or about the 30th of November, 1971 Capt. Gaikwad picked up his pilot at the approaches to the Pashur river in East Pakistan. And was soon tied up to a set of mooring buoys about 30 miles below the port-town of Mongla. He noticed a couple of other ships too, moored to buoys. Inward clearance took much longer than usual. He could sense a distinct uneasiness in the port agent’s manner. The stevedore gangs and cargo barges were nowhere to be seen even two days after arrival. And on the 3rd of December, it was all out in the open. India and Pakistan were officially at war with each other! Meanwhile, his ship’s radio room had already been ordered sealed and aerials dismantled. You see, his ship had a fully Indian crew complement and was operated by Indian interests. It had overnight, officially, become an enemy ship! The next day, Capt. Gaikwad could see wire ropes being laid across the river from each bank just a few miles downriver. The Pakistan Naval authorities had, in effect, sealed the port’s exit. All ships upriver of those wires were now war booty and, their crews were now captives!
Each day, news kept trickling in on the radio. Within a few days it became clear to Capt. Gaikwad that the situation was grim for the Pakistani forces as the Indian forces ran rampant at lightning speed across all sectors in East Pakistan.
Now, Capt. Gaikwad had been a regular in these waters since his younger days. So, he had a good knowledge of the approaches and the river channels leading to the ports of Khulna/Mongla, Chittagong, Rangoon et al. After he got command, as was part of the master’s routine business in those days, he had built-up a rapport with the shippers and the ship’s agents. And so, as was usual, the agent would visit his ship every now and then to meet him, and discuss various matters. Or just to chat! This routine continued despite no cargo work having started and blackout in force since the outbreak of hostilities. From these meetings Capt. Gaikwad was getting confirmation of what he was hearing on the radio. That his crew and his ship would sooner, rather than later, end up facing grave danger to their life and liberty. In any case, he was running rather low on food and water and the agent was non-committal on any fresh supplies being made.
As is the norm on a merchant ship, Capt. Gaikwad too would almost daily meet his Chief Engineer and Chief Officer at the usual mid-morning break. To banter, while also keeping an eye on how things were in their departments. But in the last few days the mood at these meetings had taken a sombre turn. On the 7th of December, he called his senior officers to his cabin. And shared his misgivings. At best, the ship would remain seized and its crew held in captivity indefinitely, as a potential bargaining chip. At worst, the ship could be set on fire and all on board killed by local zealots in a fit of vengeful lawlessness in defeat. The latter was more likely because the radio carried alarming reports of atrocities visited upon the East Pakistani resistance forces as well as the local populace. Capt. Gaikwad told his chief officer and chief engineer of his intention to make a run for freedom. They would cast off at night. He felt confident he knew the river channel well enough to steer the ship out safely into open waters without the help of a pilot. Would they trust his judgment to do so? Both expressed their faith in him. Besides, the alternative of staying on in quiet resignation was appalling. They would pass each day not knowing if they would be spared or killed or subjected to untold miseries and what not. Families back home would be sick with worry, not knowing of their well-being or worse. And they would definitely be out of food and water soon.
“Well, it’s decided then. Muster the crew and all other officers after dinner today. I will lay out the options and our plan. In the meanwhile, flesh out the seamanship details of exactly how we’ll cut the mooring lines. And estimate the time it would take to do so. I will minutely study the charts and tides and plan the river passage with our navigating officer. Mark out clearing bearings, passing distances off radar conspicuous features and make a list of navigation notes to check against as we pass down river. It’s lucky that she’s berthed heading down-river. Even so I will need full thrust on the engines immediately after cast off. So that we have enough momentum to snap the arrester wires laid out across the channel. Also, we should expect they’ll be after us soon enough”. Both chiefs nodded agreement.
At the muster, the crew agreed in one voice – “Make the run! We’re all for it. We understand the need to maintain total secrecy”. The sparky (Radio Officer) was given instructions to muster the equipment needed to rig the emergency aerial wire and to work out the seamanship and time it would take to do this – that too in darkness.
The escape date was set for the 10th of December. Everyone was well briefed on the unmooring operation and all else was as ready as could be for the break to freedom. At 2 a.m on the 11th, Capt. Gaikwad confirmed the tide was at high water-slack. On his signal, the crew began “singling up” and gently slip the cut portions overboard. By 02:20, it was confirmed that the ebb current had started and it was safe to cut off the last of the head lines. Soon after, the last stern line to the buoy nearer the river bank too was cut. The ship gently sheared away from the river bank being held back now by only one stern line. A hoarsely whispered signal was relayed by messenger to the second officer at the aft mooring station. In seconds, his crew took off a few turns of the remaining stern line on the warping drum of the mooring winch. Then hastily left the aft station to keep safely clear of the mooring area. Upon receiving a clear ‘ready to go’ hand signal from the second officer, the engine telegraph was set to Full Ahead. There followed a hiss and a cough from deep down below decks – of starting air being injected into the main engine while great belches of dark smoke spewed from the funnel. Seconds later, a juddering vibration coursed through the whole ship as the engine fired at full throttle and immediately, a thrashing wake appeared at the stern. As the ship moved ahead the last stern line slithered off the warping drum, its tail end whiplashing overboard through the fairlead.
The radars were finally switched on, having been on standby to avoid alerting the enemy. The 2nd officer rushed to the bridge to assist the captain and the 3rd officer with navigation.
The ship arrester wires were not effective. The ship simply ploughed through them and their parting was not even felt on board. They were off and away! Capt. Gaikwad, judging the speed as about eight knots, decided not to push it and eased back to half ahead. His plan was that once that sharp bend now about half an hour down river was past, the remaining stretch was much easier to con through. This was when he would open up to maximum speed. Meanwhile, the echo sounder stylus purred rhythmically as it traced the depths. It was a comforting sound. Sparky got busy rigging the emergency aerial wire and setting up his radio transmitter.
Tense moments passed. Capt. Gaikwad, with his two young deck officers and the ship’s best helmsman at the steering wheel, skilfully navigated the reaches and cleared the bends in the river, one by one. With that particular sharp bend safely behind them, he ordered full ahead on the engines. Soon, the river started to broaden. Was that a slight heave they felt? “Yes, we’re nearing open waters” confirmed Capt. Gaikwad. A thrill passed amongst the bridge team. A muffled whoop of joy escaped from the 3rd officer – cut short by a shake of Capt. Gaikwad’s head. And then she was clear! And on her last straight run into open waters. It was just before day break. The speed log showed 14 knots! Pretty good for an otherwise slowpoke of a ship. Capt. Gaikwad, at last, broke out the Indian Naval codes from the sealed envelope in his custody. Once secure contact was established with the Indian Naval authorities, Capt. Gaikwad messaged “Ship name, call sign, position, ETA Sand Heads 12Dec15:00 hrs IST STOP 42 crew, all Indian STOP Have just escaped from Mongla STOP Request escort to Calcutta STOP Capt V.K.Gaikwad – Master”
It was apparent that the Pakistanis had poor control over their waters. No one chased Capt. Gaikwad’s ship. Nor was there any patrol craft lurking off the port approaches. It turned out this was because it was the Indian Navy that had effective control over navigation in these waters. The requested escort soon made rendezvous. By the afternoon of the 12th, Capt. Gaikwad’s ship was at the Hooghly river pilot station. As he guided the ship in, the Hooghly river pilot listened, mesmerised, as Capt. Gaikwad related his daring escape from captivity. By the early hours of the 13th of December, 1971, Capt. Gaikwad’s ship was safe alongside a berth at Kidderpore docks, Calcutta.
The next few days brought a stream of visitors. Officers from the Indian Navy boarded for a full debrief – of the escape as well as of their stay at Mongla. Word was sent to the ship’s owners of their ship’s safe arrival in Calcutta. Crew families were notified. The ship’s managers and agents hosted the press and various dignitaries. Rounds of congratulations came in from all quarters.
Capt. Gaikwad is settled in Pune, where I also reside. He is now 95 years old and quite feeble, naturally. His nephew, Rear Admiral Ravi (Ravindra) Gaikwad, who is also my childhood friend, was visiting his uncle a few months ago. Ravi invited me to join him. That is when ‘Indu Uncle’ – as he is fondly called by his family – regaled us with some stories of his life at sea. “The escape from East Pakistan is the proudest memory I have of my sea career” he told us. I listened in awe as he narrated the story in fits and starts, his advanced age making it a struggle to recall some specifics. A major specific he just could not recollect, was the name of the ship that enabled the escape. But he does remember that that ship was the first one that its rather obscure Indian owners had purchased. And he was employed by them under a contract to take delivery of it at Amsterdam with orders to eventually deliver it them in Calcutta while carrying general cargoes enroute. He confirms that the escape was from a river port in (now) Bangladesh. That his ship was “arrested” in that river by those wires he observed laid across the channel. That his ship’s berth was about 40 miles up from the open seas of the Bay of Bengal. (Looking at a map of Bangladesh, this indicates the port in question must indeed have been Mongla). That, under cover of darkness he did order full ahead upon cast off as the arrestor wires were a worry to him. He is proudest of the fact that he could manage to safely navigate that nearly 40 nautical mile stretch of river, without a local pilot, using only his radar and echo sounder. Being war time, he recollects, “the authorities had switched off all navigation aids”. When I asked if he was awarded anything by the Indian government, he brightened saying, “I was feted by the Ministry of Shipping officials at Calcutta.” And added, “A couple of newspapers printed a story about his feat”. Perhaps that story was overshadowed by the momentous news of India’s victory just days later?
Indu Uncle was born in 1930 and was schooled in Bombay. His father worked as a ship’s Purser in BI Lines. As a teenager, he loved to spend time aboard his father’s ship whenever it called at Bombay. Port stays used to be at a leisurely pace. He got ample time when on board to look and learn. He was a quick learner and the shipmasters and other officers indulged him, answering his many questions about the tasks he observed being carried out. In 1946, he was signed on as an apprentice. Returning after a particularly long stint at sea, he found that he was over-age to join the training ship “Dufferin”. So, he continued his apprenticeship at BI Lines. During his 3 or 4 years of apprenticeship he was given books by his mentors and studied hard at sea. With more than adequate sea time under his belt and good reports from the ship masters he had sailed with, he was allowed to sit for his second mate’s certificate of competency examination. Soon after he worked in small tramp shipping companies on contracts. Seeing the high demand for officers in the tanker trade, he ventured onto tankers plying mainly in the Persian Gulf. In 1961 he cleared his exams for the certificate of competency as a Master on foreign going ships and got married soon after. By 1965 he had already been in command for about 4 years and decided to step ashore and joined the Bombay Port Trust (BPT) in its dredging department. He was instrumental in the capital dredging carried out to deepen the navigation channel off Butcher and Elephanta islands. BPT had a practice of allowing its marine officers to go for a sea voyage of a few months. So that they could keep themselves up to date as well as earn a bit more! It was during such a “sabbatical” from the BPT that he found himself on a seized ship in East Pakistan. He retired as a senior dredging superintendent from the BPT in 1988 to work in a company formed by the ex-DC of Bombay Port, Capt. Manu Karnik. The company undertook contracts to carry out dredging at the fledgling port of Dahej on the north bank of the Narmada river in Gujarat. He continued in this line of contract dredging work and consultancy services until he finally retired in 2001.
After the awe subsided, I was curious to know about how life was for a ship master back then. “Reports? Just a few. Paperwork? Nah! Everything by mail. For very urgent matters needing discussion, we had to take a taxi at the next port to reach a phone miles away. Voyage instructions? Pick up cargo at Port A. And deliver it at Port B. That’s it!” he said. I thought, compared to the micromanagement from ashore that ship masters face today, what blissful freedom masters enjoyed in his days! When I asked as to what all ports, he had usually called at during his sailing days he said his runs were almost all between UK-Continent to the Indian sub-continent up to Burma and a few to the Persian Gulf. From this observation, it won’t be amiss to conclude that India’s trade to other parts of the world was not much back in the 1960s. And, he said, “The trade on the Indian coast was rather heavy. It supported lots of tramp ship calls”. (Sadly, today that trade stands drastically withered). “What about Singapore, did you get to visit it?” I asked him. “Well, I’m not sure. Singapore was not much of a port of call for ships back then”. Visions of today’s thriving port of Singapore sprang up in my mind’s eye. And I let out an involuntary gasp of amazement at this recollection, made so nonchalantly by him.
Capt. Gaikwad and his crew are deserving of our admiration for the daring and skill they showed in carrying out their escape from Mongla, East Pakistan. In delivering their loved ones from grave danger and untold hardship, into safety, the surviving crew and their family remain eternally in his debt. And I’m sure the wider maritime community, learning of this mostly forgotten story, joins me to offer its thanks to Capt. Gaikwad. Thank you, sir, for your service and for sharing such a wonderful and inspiring seafaring story. We wish you good health and good cheer in your remaining years.
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