Operation Khurki- The True Story behind the Indian Army's Most Successful Misssion as Part of The United Nations

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Sierra Leone, a small ex-British colony in West Africa, is a picturesque nation with abundant natural resources but lack of freedom among the people to revel in the treasure that nature had to offer. Sierra Leone had been battered by years of civil war, military coups and been a victim of a rebel movement, whose motives were dubious and methods plainly vicious. Under the grip of endless horror and tragedy, around 50,000 people died in Sierra Leone, with more than a million displaced, and peace eluded the nation for over nine years.

Way back in 2000, as a novice reporter, I had the opportunity to visit Sierra Leone and interact with the Indian peacekeepers in Daru. Through my presence in the war-torn nation, I could be a via media between India and the Indians in Sierra Leone. Being in Daru, I learnt about the 233 Indian peacekeepers who were cordoned off in Kailahun, the heartland of the Revolutionary United Front (RUF).

These 233 soldiers, under the command of Major Rajpal Punia, braved over two months of confinement at the hands of the RUF, without basic necessities available to them. Stationed in Daru, I heard the tales of the Tiger', aka Major Rajpal Punia, who had refused to lay down weapons before the rebel forces even at the risk of his life.

Day in and day out, I could see peacekeepers of all other nations, without arms and stripped off their uniforms, being transported to Liberia in ramshackle trucks. But the Indians did not surrender, the Indians were brave.

On 24 March 2020, I caught the flight to Patna at the eleventh hour. Delhi was slowly getting submerged under the dreadful coronavirus pandemic, and the Prime Minister had ordered a complete lockdown in India. My father was posted at Danapur Cantonment, fifteen kilometres from Patna, a place unheard of. I didn't know what to expect, but the fact that our abode was on the banks of the holy river Ganges was enough to get me all excited about this trip. Being optimistic about returning in a week's time, I packed my stuff and rushed to the market to get a travel cage for my companion Noddy, a three-month-old beagle. And so, we embarked on this adventure with masks around our faces, gleaming eyes peeping through, a small strolley for me and a mini rucksack for Noddy.

We reached Danapur hours after the sun shifted west and hence couldn't discern much in terms of the area around. The following morning was surreal beyond words as we sat on the gazebo overlooking the Ganga, feeling the cool breeze in our hair. From that moment on, the gazebo became our spot. Noddy would enjoy calling out to the boats that sailed across. A week switched to a month and a month turned into two-Noddy and I were still in Danapur. As the days of summer decreased our gazebo time to half, I decided to dive deep into our storerooms, filled with endless memories and souvenirs from our travels across the country. Every army home is filled with an abundance of black iron boxes covered in the dust of nostalgia stacked one over the other. The snowy numbers painted on them keep multiplying as we move from one station to another with piles of stories, mementos and memories.

It is a heartfelt confession that the intent behind this book is to share with the world the tales of tenacity and valour along with the horrendous experience of encounter with death endured by 233 Indian peacekeepers, day in and day out, for three long months in Kailahun.

The Kailahun story is very close to my heart, and for this reason I shall let my emotions take control of the steering wheel, guiding the events as they unfolded. I would fail in my duty as a Company Commander towards every soldier at Kailahun if I don't give shape to the chronology of the developments that manifested during the 'May 2000' crisis. The Revolutionary United Front (RUF) had held thousands of United Nations peacekeepers hostage, but the Indian peacekeepers at Kailahun stood their ground, displaying nerves of steel and an indomitable spirit, ready to face death rather than lay down weapons before the rebels. For us, our honour was paramount.

During that mission, my belief in destiny was reinforced manifold, and even today, when I look back. I express my gratitude towards God for paving the way for me to reach Kailahun. I thank every soldier who was in that crisis with me for being my inspiration. Words fail me, but I'd like to thank Colonel Martin, the Brigade Commander of the rebel RUF brigade located at Kailahun, and the Papa Giema of Kailahun, without whose faith in me I could not have fulfilled my duty towards my brethren soldiers. While doing what I did, I had to pay the enormous price of carrying this emotional baggage to date, and I can probably never wash off the red stains of collateral damage-innocent civilians who lost their lives-as we fought to save the lives of my soldiers, my responsibility.

It is a long, emotional and rather spine-chilling story that I am going to share with you all, leaving the responsibility of judgement on my readers. I assure you that I shall humbly accept your verdict.