Always a Soldier

How through sheer determination, the author proved that loss of limb does not mean loss of abilities. An extract

Maj. Gen. Ian Cardozo (retd)

Being invalided out seemed like a dismal option considering that I knew, in my heart, that even with an artificial leg I could be nearly as good as I was before I got injured. I had read Reach for the Sky, the story of Douglas Bader, an RAF pilot. He had lost both legs and continued to fly Spitfires during the Second World War. He had become an air ace by shooting down 21 German fighter-aircraft. If he could do it, why couldn’t I face my challenges in the same way?

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At the hospital we could not get measured for our artificial legs until our stumps healed. It took approximately four months for that to happen. During this time, we were all over Pune on our crutches and our bandaged stumps—at the bar of the Southern Command Officer’s Mess, at the races, at the movies, at Poona Coffee House on East Street and at the restaurants on Main Street (now called MG Road). The citizens of Pune had become used to us and accepted us as their own.

All the activities that we were indulging in required money and regrettably we lived beyond our means by drawing cash from a money lender and spending it recklessly. His shop was on an offshoot of Main Street and he allowed us to use postdated cheques and charged us exorbitant rates of interest. Looking back, I think we lived as if there was no tomorrow because we did not know what ‘tomorrow’ held for us.

Around this time, Headquarter Southern Command decided to organize a reception for the battle casualties lodged at the Pune and Kirkee military hospitals. The Army Commander was the host and so I decided to speak to him. The Army Commander was from the Gorkhas and Colonel McKean, a senior staff officer from Headquarter Southern Command was from Darjeeling. Both spoke Nepali. So, I went and spoke to Colonel McKean in Nepali and asked him whether I could meet the Army Commander. ‘Sure,’ he said and asked me why I wanted to meet him. I told him that we battle casualties were in the dark about our future and that we wanted to know whether we could go back to our battalions. Speaking in Nepali, he introduced me to the Army Commander. I was on my crutches.

The Army Commander was speaking to some senior officers. He excused himself and turned around to meet me and after being introduced, he said:

‘So, are you from the RIMC?’

‘No sir.’ I said slightly