Sunday Times 2
Trained as a soldier in Diyatalawa
In response to a Gazette notification calling for cadet trainees in the Sri Lanka Army, in July 1967, 12,000 applications were received by army headquarters ‘A’ branch, the administration branch that handles recruitment. After many interviews, a final list of 22 candidates was presented to the Ministry of Defence in March 1968. This was preceded by a medical test.
On April 10, 1968, 13 candidates received telegrams requesting them to report to army headquarters on April 16. This was the first time the army was handling an officer cadet intake. Of the 13 selected, 10 candidates turned up at the Fort railway station in time for the night mail train to Badulla. The scene at the station was similar to a funeral – endless crying by the parents and some of the candidates themselves. The 11th candidate was to board the train at Peradeniya and there was more wailing and gnashing of teeth. The entire village had turned up. The other two were to join us after their A Level practical examination within a week.
Intake-1: Officer Cadets from April 16, 1968 to August 10, 1969.
The senior candidate leading the group thought that they had received third class tickets and decided to travel in the crowded third class of the Badulla night mail. It was the most miserable journey. Passengers were atop each other, some standing on one leg. I saw one of my new found colleagues on the baggage rack above the seats.
We arrived in Diyatalawa, at six in the morning, feeling sick and sleepy and trying hard to restrain ourselves from the urge to use a toilet. To greet us was the sergeant major of the officer cadet wing, of the army training centre, Diyatalawa immaculately turned out, sporting a handlebar moustache, the bushiest I had seen in my life. He was wearing sparkling brass buckles and boots that were shining like mirrors. He also had a huge stick with a brass knob and ferule – I had never ever seen anything like that before.
The next was a shocker as he screamed – his voice coming all the way from his diaphragm, more a bark, ordering us into a vehicle, a four ton metal heap, green in colour with a sleepy driver. The tail gate that could very well have been lowered to make our entry easier was still in the locked position. He continued to scream whilst we struggled into the metal junk and started off with some of us still running behind the lorry hopeful of getting onto it. We all made it on to the lorry (we learnt later on to call it truck) and it sped through the Diyatalawa town.
We reached our destination within ten minutes and once again heard the bark of the man in authority. Now it was how fast we could get out with our steel boxes and suitcases and bags that carried whatever necessities that we had brought with us.
Carrying what we had brought we started to wend our way gingerly towards a cement brick structure called a billet. It was called the beasts billet. Hardly had we put the bags down we heard the shrieking this time by two voices one trying to outdo the other. By this time the sun was peering through the clouds in Diyatalawa and warming up the otherwise chilly atmosphere. The ties round our neck were tightened and we spruced up for whatever was to come next.
Eagerly hoping there would be a hot cup of tea served by what we had heard the army had, batmen; but there was no tea, no water, no food, nothing from the time the train left the railway station in Fort, only another scream calling us to ‘fall In.’ What was that?
The screaming continued. Time didn’t pass before we were now on the jogging suit with a tie round our neck and with shoes which were the best in my family. We did not know where we were going and thought may be to the next building or at the most just being taken to have a hot breakfast and a cup of tea. Sure enough it was a breakfast laid out on what was called a trestle table with benches on either side. There were aluminium plates with half a pound of bread and something that looked like a dhal curry and pol sambal enough to fit a spoon. A plain cup of cold tea in an aluminium mug. Whatever was there vanished even before we could sit down as we were famished.
Screaming was heard again and this time at least we understood what they meant by ‘fall In’. This time it was a corporal instructor and what he said was confusing. He went on saying, “polling polling”. Eleven miserable looking teenagers looking for a new life with the army were now on the jog. We ran and ran and ran as if it was to nowhere. Eight of us reached the destination and we were now in the quarter masters store. We could now see at a distance our new found friends being helped by people in white attire. These were the physical training instructors or PTI’s as they were to be called in the future.
Then begun the process of issuing us with what were going to be our possessions for the next 16 months. From our underwear to toiletries and fork and spoon and plate, shaving brush to shoe brush, shoes to warm clothing and the needle and thread called “hosiff” pronounced, housewife and something called pull through. They were all stuffed into what was to be called the bag duffle. We had to carry it on our backs and start the return journey. Back in the billet we had to lay all the items down to be introduced to the functionality of each item by item.
This was the beginning of a life that was to remould and completely change our outlook and make-up. It created new friendships, camaraderie, bonds and team spirit. A week later we were joined by the two members who stayed behind to sit for the practical exams of the advanced level examination.
The number grew to 13 and we were now divided into two groups and allocated two billets. To help us with menial work was a man who had claim to many an achievement in the army. He had to be bribed to get us extra food from a boutique across the fence. The boutique flourished as our consumption of supplementary food increased to compensate for the poor meals we got from the army. After the first ten days we had run out of cash.
By this time food supplements were coming from home. I remember how our colleague from Kandy had his family visit him in three cars, one weekend. Whilst he cried on the shoulders of his mother and the rest of the village, we tucked into three sawans of biryani and realised only the bones were left for our colleague. We ate the watalappam with our fingers, such was our greed. Parcels of bread and chicken were regular features.
We soon learnt how our living area had to be cleaned and tidied for inspection. The toilets had to be spotlessly cleaned, the blankets taut enough that when a coin was tossed on it, it would bounce back. It was during these first three months that we learnt our first lesson on military discipline. Amongst our colleagues was a pint- sized Napoleon whose father was serving in the army. In the second or third week the camp ran out of water, a regular feature in Diyatalawa. Our friend said that we should write a petition (I had never even heard the word) to the chief instructor, stating the inconvenience we were going through without water.
The petition was signed by all of us. Come the following morning we were told by the man who shrieks from his diaphragm that we would in the afternoon have the pleasure of having our first meeting with the man called the chief instructor. He was another man of the same Napoleonic height as our colleague, wearing a peak cap from the famous military accoutrement supplier in the UK called Herby Johnson. Despite his height he had a Hitlerian disposition with an accent that was slightly north of the north pole but living in the south of Sri Lanka.
It was a meeting never to be forgotten. That was what I learnt in the army to be called a tongue lashing, for what we were told was a despicable act of cowardice.
After the first three months life became more civilised. There were more social activities and also academic studies. Weekends were hardly weekends with all the week’s work to catch up. The cleaning of weapons and the polishing of boots, cleaning of all the equipment that had been through the obstacle course was the most trying of all the chores.
The obstacle course which we did twice if not thrice a week was the most sadistic of all the inhuman activities to be performed. There were eleven obstacles and one of which was the eight foot leap or ditch as it was called. It was the simplest of them all. There was this colleague who could never jump across this ditch and that meant that all of us were punished. Many were the days we went without food and many were the days we repeated the course over and over again. To this date he can’t clear it. We shall dedicate this pit to him, as we celebrate fifty years.
Then there was the man who was so short, the same petition as Napoleon, that he couldn’t go through the swamp as the water level was over his head. He took a ride on the back of one of the taller members. Likewise he couldn’t make the nine foot wall.
There was the sadistic instructor who took great pleasure of holding the suffocating smoke right into our nostrils till we choked and coughed out blood at times. Thunder flashes and crackers were lit under our buttocks. It was such a dreaded act.
Whilst we entered the third month we were joined by another colleague who was already in the army and because of his outstanding performance and his great ability in sports he was selected to be commissioned. He was such a live wire that he was a soothing balm to our otherwise aching heads. He helped us to circumnavigate through many an obstacle.
One of the more rigorous demands on our fitness was the nine mile road run. It was to Haputale and back from the Diyatalawa, Ella gymnasium. This was only a possibility for a few physically fit and determined folk. This meant that quite a few of us had to devise ingenious methods to complete this arduous task. On one such occasion there was a lorry labouring up a hill that was not moving much faster than our legs would carry us; so in dived one of the guys into this lorry with his legs sticking out and with toddy all over him and smelling like a tavern. It was vehicle transporting bottles of toddy. There was the other colleague who didn’t know the difference between the railway line and the road. He chose the railway line as his route and his nine miles was about a mile shorter
Much has to be said about the instructors we had. From the drill instructor trained in Perbright in the UK to the weapons instructors who were outstanding, they were a dedicated lot. No shortcuts were taken by them nor given to the students whom they instructed.
To conduct the academics were a team of officers from the Sri Lanka Army General Service Corps (SLAGSC) who tried their best to have us mentally groomed in the fundamentals of military history, the legal instruments and the military law, the army documentation procedures and the logistical functions and administrative functions exercised by a commissioned army officer.
The outdoor exercises conducted in different terrain under all manner of simulated conditions, were the highlight of the 16 months of training. Be it the phases of war, counter insurgency warfare, an internal security exercise or the jungle warfare training, all were meticulously planned and executed. Sixteen months went by without a thought of boredom. Fine tuning and honing the skills of officering were neatly carved out making gentlemen out of us. Leadership, integrity and moral courage were the hallmark of the 13 cadets who were converted into officers and gentlemen.
At the helm was the icon of leadership the man that paved the way for the introduction of a new breed of officer to the Sri Lankan army. The transformation of the officer cadre that revolutionised the future generation of officers was the visionary who created the foundation on which was built the present military might.
Officer Cadet Intake -1 can be identified as the trailblazer of the present army and what it is by the many initiatives taken by the intake during training and after.Todate it stands as the beacon of light to generations of army officers that have followed.
I dedicate this short article to my commandant of the then Army Training Centre who was an army officer par excellence; to those instructors who dedicated themselves to the task of creating the new breed of officers and gentleman; and to our three beloved colleagues who have gone beyond to rest in peace.