Ten Mile Run

I don't know how exciting could it be to receive a joining letter for training at IMA (Indian Military Academy) Dehradun, for a 21-year-old unathletic lad, unsure of what life has in store. That was me, feeling practically sucked in the vortex of events as I stood looking at the formidable iron gate of the academy where my journey so far had brought me to.

All of this was completely unplanned, dotted with unexpected outcomes, and therefore, mildly heady. For an average dreamy youngster, getting heady also made it for a deadly cocktail. My dreams were magical and always filled me with a nice warm feeling till they lasted. It was altogether different that my dreams seldom lasted long. Hopping from one dream to another I learned to live the fullest while life happened. The best thing that I learned in the process was to be able to say a cheerful goodbye to my dream if it ever alluded to an adieu.

After engineering, there were options of steady employment with the state services for me. These were low-paying, less challenging jobs, that offered steady extra income, even if you were not the type. This was never my dream so I could never see myself there. As I was exploring the other job opportunities after graduation, I received a call for an SSB interview at Bangalore. I can't remember when I had applied for this but with this call, the letter started my love affair with a new dream "To be a Soldier". A dream that I never thought could come true. I cracked the SSB interview with practically no preparation although the medicals gave me a few hiccups. Actually, a 'temporary unfit' verdict made me think of saying yet another goodbye to my last found dream but I decided to challenge the medical board after a seven days course of Flagyl 400 that took care of my persistent stomach infection. After this, I never had to look back again.

Reaching IMA was not so difficult as staying there was. It was proving really tough for someone who could not do even a single 'push-up'. Running was no fun either and here I realized why the military doctors took so much time to clear me of the suspected flat foot with an X-ray report that read "height of lateral arches diminishing on both sides".

Already 10 months in the academy but I had to struggle every time to pass one BPET (Battle Physical Endurance Training) test after another. It was already taking a toll on my frail physique which I least realized till one day it snapped. That day we had a weapon training class followed by an enervative 2-mile run. While on my way to the class I found it particularly hard to push the paddles while negotiating many uphill climbs along with the undulating geography inside the sprawling campus. By the time this class got over, I just could not walk without an embarrassing limp. This limp soon turned my leg rubbery and I fell off my bicycle while trying to stop at the armoury to deposit my weapon. I just couldn't support any weight on my right leg although there was no sensation of pain. Later I felt relieved to know that what I had suffered was not very uncommon and was aptly called a stress fracture. Soon I was bundled off to the MI room and later on to the MH. Even though I had plans to visit home for Diwali but here I was, stuck on a hospital bed of Officers Ward in MH Dehradun but it was such a welcome change that I could hardly complain.
I quite enjoyed the sympathy of para-medical staff including the nursing officers along with tasteless dinner served on the bed perfectly at 1900h every single day. After two weeks of complete rest, I started walking with the help of a hockey stick, unmindful of the doom that I was slowly inching closer to. What else can be called a 'doom' if not the fact that merely two months from the passing out parade and all the grind that you have undergone, prospects of six-month relegation loom large? It emerged that because I have not passed some critical physical tests including a 'Ten Mile' run I could not hope to pass out of the academy while everyone else would.

It is impossible to put in words the difficulties I surmounted for securing a place in a passing out parade squad in the coming month. I completed the night-long run and route march of over 60 km back to the academy scaling iconic hights of Bhadraj and Clouds End in the rugged Shivalik ranges. It ended well because I made it to the end point minutes before the acceptable time of 21 hours ended with my right leg still attached to my hips. Next came the 'Two Mile' run that was scheduled in the coming week and I again managed to push myself to complete it in 14 odd minutes. But I knew it was a Ten-mile run that was a daunting challenge. This never let me sleep during nights because I knew the heart of my heart that I had no strength to sustain the rigors involved in a Ten-Mile run. One needed stamina and speed both to complete this test within acceptable time limits. It is not that I had never taken this exercise earlier. Far from it, I had done these umpteen times but those were practice runs and officially the test was not published so the result could not be counted towards my completion of mandatory tests for passing out. I felt all hopes of completing this test dashing in front of my eyes. I now needed nothing short of a miracle to pass this test.

It was a chilly morning when I was informed about the scheduled 'Ten-Mile' Run test and was also officially warned that this being the last chance, I would not pass out with my batch if I failed it now. The test was unusually scheduled at 1600 hours right after some useless demo at Grandstands. These demos were conducted to give the wannabe officers some value additions but we mostly used them to catch up on serious sleep deprivation that most of us were perennially suffering from.

I was not excused from attending the demo but was asked to be in FSMO (Field Service Marching Order) pack 08 so that I could report for my 10 Mile Run test immediately after the demo. As the event got over, we were mustered for a fall-in. Our Platoon Commander appeared to be in a foul mood and thought we had not paid enough attention to the demo. I tried interjecting to tell him about my 10 Mile Run test lined up now and that I should be spared the ML (Moral Lecture) but he was not in a mood to listen. We were scolded left right and center on how despite spending almost 18 months here, we still lacked OLQ (Officer Like Qualities) and did not know how to conduct ourselves during an important event like this. No one could comprehend what had triggered this deluge of reprimand but we were trained enough not to question it and be prepared to accept a collective punishment that usually comes at the end of such sessions. The harshness of the tone of the DS (Directing Staff) slowly subsided after 10 minutes of relentless destruction and started alluding to the virtues of esprit de corps. In the end, he sternly announced that the entire Sangro Company will go for a ten-mile run as a punishment and atone for their misconduct this afternoon.

For all of us, esprit de corps so far was merely a flowery word that was spoken about during leadership classes. No one actually cared what it meant till recently when this was being drilled down our throats by the DS. As my test started the entire company was made to wait at the Start Point for about 10 minutes. Then the entire company was made to fall in for the punishment run. As they were in a sports rig it did not take much for them to catch up with me. Most of my coursemates came close and started running with me helping me find my rhythm. They ran with me, pushed me to help maintain the desired speed, and encouraged me to keep running. By the time I reached half the distance, I was exhausted and limping hard as my leg was throbbing with pain. Suddenly I found two of my course mates almost closing in on either side and practically held my sides thereby helping me with my pack FSMO and my 7.62 mm SLR (self-loading rifle).

Soon the actual purpose of the punishment was clear to everyone. All those who were cribbing had smiles on their faces as they found a purpose in this uncalled-for physical hardship. Now no one wanted to be left out in contributing to my success of the Ten-Mile run test and everyone started doing something or the other to ease my exhaustion and remove any impediment that could pull down my timing and make my effort redundant. It was Sangro company that was taking a re-test of 10 Mile Run test that evening. It was our first lesson in camaraderie, esprit-de-corps, and the real meaning of Brother-in-Arms. If the Sangro company could not let me on my own, how could I let them down? In the next 45 minutes or so I lost touch of time and was riding the strongest wave of euphoria. I did not feel the debilitating pain that my leg had felt during the initial part of the run but now I did not want to stop and I did not care if any of this would result in a lifelong disability.

At the finish line, most of my coursemates were waiting and the balance of them still running with me to make sure every second counted. I almost collapsed after crossing the Finish Line panting hard and completely covered in a flood of sweat. I closed my eyes relishing the feeling of eagerly waiting at the threshold of being a member of this great institution called the Indian Army.

Many times this thought had crossed my mind and I am sure my readers would also have the same question – Was it not unethical to push everyone for the uncalled-for punishment knowing well that they would take a cue to assist me in passing the test? If the rules said I should be relegated to the next batch because of not passing the mandatory tests then I should not have been helped in such an extra-constitutional manner. After all, no one is above law?

I have reflected on these questions always and there is only one answer that I cannot argue against it, which is –
Battles are won by the teamwork of willing soldiers to offer the ultimate sacrifice for the Nation. The purpose of the training in IMA is to create this indomitable spirit and not just focus on individuals officially passing mandatory tests of physical fitness. It is this spirit that does not let our injured and fallen soldiers left behind even when the bullets are raining.

Author: Hemant Saxena