The Army is essentially restless. Thanks to short tenures of duty and umpteen temporary moves, most of its time is spent on wheels. All such migrations are accomplished in convoys. A convoy move is essentially simple. There is a starting point, a destination, and a route to follow. A meticulous chart giving prominent locations and destinations is prepared and handed down the ranks. Drivers are briefed before the convoy rolls. Every vehicle maintains a prescribed distance from the one in front and keeps to prescribed speeds all the way to the destination.So it is supposed to be. However, Peter's Principle of Convoys throws up a potent cocktail of errors, lifting convoy life from dreary boredom to the realms of fauji folklore. Somewhat on the following lines:
The paltan is to move finally, after completing a relatively long stay of 19 months in the station. Umed Singh attends the drivers' briefing, then promptly develops gastroenteritis. The only man who can take his place is Bhoop Singh, who had been onsentry duty the previous night. A very groggy Bhoop Singh is hustled into the cabin of a Shaktiman.
The convoy sets off, scores of vehicles rumbling through a city fitfully trying to catch the final hours of sleep. Paanwallahs peer from their 24-hour stalls in awe. Bhoop Singh nearly knocks down a milkman and decides to stay awake. Time and again, the route chart dangling on the dashboard diverts his attention. He angrily yanks it off, and stuffs it into the glove compartment.
One hour at 40 kmph, eyes riveted on the vehicle in front, and no overtaking drives Bhoop Singh a little crazy. He sees a Freedom hoarding on the highway. He dreams of breaking free. His daydream is rudely interrupted when he has to stand on his brakes to avoid getting plastered into a newspaper headline at a level crossing. Cut off from the rest of the convoy, he waits for a goods train to chug by. When the gates go up, Bhoop Singh is alone.Catharsis! Free of foolish speed limits, Bhoop Singh drives like a bat out of hell. Theunwieldly three-tonner begins overtaking Marutis as Bhoop Singh plays catch-up. In the process, he misses the right turn he was supposed to take. Not that he knew about it in the first place, as he had not cast a single glance on the offending route chart.
The vehicle flees on the National Highway for another half an hour before Bhoop Singh stops to enquire from a roadside dhaba-owner if he has seen any fauji vehicles go by. Bhoop Singh gets an affirmative. Little realising that the vehicle spotted could well be from the local garrison, he takes off like a man possessed.
Meanwhile, at a scheduled convoy halt, Major Lokesh (`Lost Case' to his colleagues) counts his flock and finds Bhoop Singh missing. He presumes that he has missed the turn. The time elapsed makes it illogical to send another vehicle in hot pursuit. Lokesh sighs and prays for Bhoop Singh's vehicle to suffer a breakdown before he reaches the end of the earth.
Hold it. A second check reveals that Subedar Anjaan is missing too. After whatseems an aeon, Subedar Anjaan arrives in a spluttering Nissan one-tonner.
``Saar, I missed the turn,'' explains Anjaan. ``Why?'' fumes Lokesh. ``Saar, the route chart showed a straight road between Najibabad and Bajpur. I assumed it meant a straight road.'' ``Didn't you notice the signposts?''
``No Saar, I was concentrating on the route chart.'' Lokesh wants to confiscate all the charts but holds back, remembering Bhoop Singh.Bhoop Singh finally fell asleep at the wheel and went off the road into a sugarcane field. He was spotted by the Military Police, who informed a very worried Lokesh. Bhoop Singh's vehicle was eventually towed in by a recovery vehicle.
The convoy managed to reach the day's target with a million other fits and starts taking all of fourteen hours to cover 300 km. All in a day's work.
Copyright © 1998 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.
