Major Gupta sat in her room. Composed, she awaited the decision of the Court Martial.
The quote, “You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice,” flashed in her mind.
Yes, she had made a choice, and now she was waiting for the consequences of her choice.
“I did what I believe is my duty,” she murmured.
Her thoughts flew to her college days, from where her journey had begun.
She had cracked the medical entrance examination with a high ranking. Her parents were doctors in a hospital in Kanpur that her grandfather built.
Against their wishes, she joined the Armed Forces Medical College in Pune.
“You can easily procure a seat in AIIMS in Delhi, or the best medical college in Lucknow or Kanpur. Why go to Pune?’ her father queried.
“Papa, I want to serve the country by saving the lives of our defence personnel,” she responded.
“You can serve your country by serving the people in society. From your grandfather’s time, we have been giving selfless service to the people. Complete your course and join our hospital. You may even do a specialisation and start a new medicine department of your choice,” her mummy tried to convince Priti.
“I have decided. The soldiers defend our country at great risk to their lives. I wish to give medical care and help to them.” Priti argued.
She joined AFMC in Pune and passed with merit. She underwent mandatory training given to all military doctors to prepare them for physical and mental endurance. The six-month rigorous training helped her adapt to the military environment and understand the rigours of military life. The training also included familiarising the doctors with the equipment, communication systems, and logistics needed in combat zones.
Priti completed her training program, and they posted her as a lieutenant at the Medical hospital in Chandigarh. For four years, she worked in the hospital, mainly assisting retired army personnel and their families. She also did a post-graduation course.
She was happy when she got posted to J&K. The next few years, she worked in various field hospitals in J&K tending soldiers wounded in combat situations, treating trauma cases, and handling specialised surgeries.
The soldiers recounted stories of bravery, their experiences when they faced the enemy. Their patriotism and valour touched Priti, and she hoped she would get an opportunity to go to the combat locations and give immediate medical aid.
That opportunity arrived soon. Pakistan waged a war, and our jawans fought bravely. She was transferred to Kargil and led a team of doctors to handle the field hospital. “Though I had more than five years of experience, watching our soldiers wounded, bleeding, and in near-death situations, seeing them so close was unnerving.” She thought.
But Priti and her team tended the injured soldiers and saved many lives affected during the military combats.
That evening in July 1999 was vividly imprinted in her mind.
Darkness had enveloped the valley when she got an order to reach Turtuk village, as there were heavy casualties.
Priti and her team reached the hilly region. There was total darkness and an eerie silence. They combed through the area and picked up many soldiers and rushed them to the makeshift hospital for first aid.
“Major, please be careful. This village is on the line of control,” one soldier cautioned as he was being shifted.
They searched the shell and artillery-strewn combat area to ensure that no soldier needing medical aid was left behind.
“Let’s return to our base and start medical aid,” she told her driver.
As they were negotiating the hilly path, the driver took a wrong turn. The darkness made it worse. The compass was missing. The driver drove blindly and reached the river bend.
“Major, this is the line of control end. I think I know how to reach the road from here,” the driver said and reversed the jeep.
While reversing, the headlights fell on a stone in the river, where Priti saw a soldier raising his hand and shouting for help.
“Stop! There is a jawan in the river.” She said and jumped out of the jeep and into the river.
“Major, please wait. I will help, “the driver said.
Priti waded through the shallow river and reached the soldier. He was bleeding profusely. She picked him and asked him to hold her and walk.
“Major, he is an enemy! See his fatigues!” The driver shouted when he saw the wounded soldier.
“He is a soldier and wounded. Let us give him first aid and inform the HQ,” she told.
The driver was not comfortable.
“Major, let us drop him here and return to our hospital,” he whispered to her.
“No, I take the responsibility. We will give him medical aid and report to HQ. Let them decide. As a Doctor, I must help the injured and not look at their nationality,” she spoke.
On reaching the hospital, Priti entrusted the soldier to the unit, entrusting him to medical care, but kept him in isolation.
The next few days were a whirl of activities. There were many fatal cases, a few jawans who needed to be airlifted to Srinagar, Chandigarh, etc.
Priti enquired about the Pakistani soldier. She was informed that he had recovered and was sent to Delhi for interrogation.
Two days later, she was summoned to New Delhi.
She was informed that she had to face an Inquiry for dereliction of duty.
Surprised, she reached New Delhi and was shocked to hear the allegations.
The Pakistani soldier had informed the interrogator that he was injured and waiting for help. As he was on the Pakistan end of the line of control, he had sought help from his countrymen. He didn’t know that the Indian team had helped him. He was vehement that Major Priti and her driver had deliberately crossed the line of control to take him as a war prisoner. He demanded his return to his country.
The media got a hint, attracting a lot of hue and cry.
“Major helped an enemy!” “Espionage under the Doctor’s coat!” “Undercover Doctor!” “Imprison the Spy Doctor!”
The social media trolled her and her family. Even her family was not spared. Her parents rushed to Delhi and hid her from the public glare and hate speeches.
The Army court initiated an inquiry.
Priti was asked to explain her breaking the Line of Control and picking up an enemy soldier, against his wishes and disobedience to the provisions of the Army Act.
Priti was aghast at the allegations. Her conscience told her she had acted right, and she was ready to face the inquiry and tell the truth.
The Court of Inquiry began its investigation. Three senior military officers questioned her.
One officer asked her to explain what happened that night.
Priti spoke in a calm and steady voice, detailing from the time they were asked to go to Turtuk village to provide immediate medical aid to our jawans.
“Are you aware that Turtuk village borders the line of control?” One officer asked her.
“Yes, Sir, I am aware,” she replied.
“OK, continue,” he said.
She informed that after all the injured were taken to the hospital, she was returning to the Base when the driver lost his way.
“After trying various routes, we reached the bank of a river. The driver told me that he knows the route from there, so he reversed the jeep. That’s when I noticed an injured man raising his hand for help,” she said.
“Did the driver inform you what the bank of the river indicated?” the officer questioned.
Before she could reply, another Officer asked, “Did the driver inform you that the line of Control ran there?”
“Yes, Sir. The driver told me that the river was the Line of Control, and so he was reversing the vehicle.”
“Knowing that it was the line of control, why did you cross it?”
“Sir, as I mentioned…”
“Please answer the question put to you without any preambles,” the Officer commented.
“Sorry, Sir,” Priti was in tears. She didn’t understand why these Officers were so hostile to her. However, she controlled her emotions and spoke.
“When the driver was reversing, I saw a jawan, perched on a small rock, raising his hand. I asked the driver to stop and waded into the river to pick him.”
“Did it not occur to you that it could be an enemy?”
“No, Sir. I thought he was our jawan, and my focus was on reaching him and giving him medical aid ASAP.”
“Continue,”
“I picked up the soldier and helped him to walk to the jeep, when the driver joined me,” she said, looking at the three Officers, hoping to see some emotions on their faces.
“Seeing his fatigue, the driver realised he was a Pakistani soldier,”
“Did you not recognise that he was not our jawan?” another officer interrupted.
“No, Sir, I didn’t notice?”
“It is strange that a Major in a combat field does not recognise the fatigue of our soldiers!” One Officer commented.
“It was dark and I didn’t notice.” She admitted meekly.
“Continue. What was the driver’s reaction?”
“The driver told me to leave him there and return to the Base hospital.”
“And what was your response?” he asked.
I told the driver, “The soldier is bleeding. As a doctor, I must give medical aid.”
“You brought an enemy into our country, knowing full well the repercussions of your actions!”
“Sir, as he was bleeding profusely, I wanted to give him medical aid first. I also ensured that he was kept in isolation and informed the HQ immediately”
“Do you know him? How did you contact him?”
“What! No, Sir! I don’t know him and never met him till that night.” Her voice quivered.
“He is a spy and trying to elicit vital information. You have helped him by bringing him into our base hospital. He could have gathered crucial secrets and passed them to his country, which could have endangered our security and safety.”
“It is surprising that Major Gupta, with eleven years of experience, put our country in danger by her irresponsible and unwise action.
Priti gulped a big lump in her throat. A simple act of helping an injured person has brought such catastrophic consequences. She knew the Pakistani spy had misled her. And she had fallen into the trap.
But her conscience was clear. She had abided by the Hippocratic oath.
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