Maritime History Society Mumbai- 40th year under Adm MP AWATI

MHS COMMEMORATIVE MARITIME SYMPOSIUM

“PROMOTING INDIAN MARITIME HERITAGE AND HISTORY

MARITIME HISTORY SOCIETY – A REPRISE”

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

BY VICE ADMIRAL SCS BANGARA (RETD) PVSM, AVSM

PATRON – MARITIME HISTORY SOCIETY

I consider it a great privilege to be standing here at the commencement of the 40th  year of Maritime History Society. That the Society has survived for so long is a tribute to the creator of this concept who has inspired so many. To tweak what Churchill said after the second world war, "Never in the history of this navy has one man contributed so much, with so little, to benefit so many."

In the course of my opening remarks, I have chosen to narrate two anecdotes on Admiral Awati so that the younger generation of officers get to know more facets of his overall personality. Therefore, I am going to talk off the cuff, impromptu or extempore, while narrating two true stories. The dramatis personae of these stories are here today – I suspect not by coincidence, but by serendipity or fate as you may call it.  

In 1977, when I was appointed as FTASO now called FASWO of the Western Fleet, I was a Lt Cdr with under a year of service in that rank. In June 1978, the Western Fleet with FOCWF was on a cruise to Seychelles, Mombasa and Dar-e-Salam.

 Having become independent just an year ago, and Seychelles being a strategically important port, the country celebrated  her National Day in the presence of ships from US Navy, the French and Russian Navies, all of whom had a permanent interest in the IOR. We too ensured that we were well represented for the occasion.

Soon after we anchored at Port Victoria, I was informed that I would be officiating as Flag Lt in addition to my duties as the incumbent had been transferred for watch keeping duties to one of the ships in harbour. During my tenure later that year, I was also asked to perform the duties of Secretary to FOCWF. I do not know of anyone else who has performed three-in-one  duties on the Fleet Staff. Suffice it to say that the Admiral thought well of me.

Now then, the dilemma faced by President Francis Rene was, which of the Admirals present in port should coordinate the ceremony. Being conscious of various interests and a vibrant Indian diaspora the wily President who finally handed over power only in 2004, casually asked the Admirals to sort it out among themselves.

The American Admiral was a tired listless officer with some Pollyanna notions about world affairs. He did not make any bid to lead the men of war in harbour.

The French invited us for lunch.  The French Admiral was rather dumb struck with the proficiency of the Indian Admiral in matters maritime, flora and fauna, maritime history and what have you. After a two-hour session he gracefully suggested that Admiral Awati could consider leading the Independence Day ceremony.

Admiral Yassakov, leading the Soviet contingent was tall, cocky and boastful. In order to establish his credentials, he invited the Indian Admiral for a discussion on his powerful destroyer at about 1030 hrs. I happened to be familiar with Russian customs and traditions having lived in Russia to acquire the Missile boats before the 1971 war. I briefed Adm Awati on what he could expect in terms of the proceedings at which copious quantities of Vodka would form an integral part. Being a teetotaller, he pondered over it and asked me to invite the former Flag Lt to also be present at this meeting.

Yassakov, as it turned out, went overboard with his hospitality. The table was lined up with bottles of Scotch and Vodka, packets of Dunhill and Rothman cigarettes, caviar, et al. As predicted, Yassakov made a long introductory speech, rather badly translated by a hastily selected interpreter. He then reached out to the bottle of Scotch and poured a very generous quantity of it in two glasses. That was meant to be gulped down by both Admirals at the end of a toast. Having made a politico-military speech, Yassakov stood up and suggested that bottoms up was the next move. All eyes were on Admiral Awati and there was just a fleeting moment of silence! He stood up, looked purposefully at the former Flag Lt who was blissfully unaware of his role, and in a gunnery voice said, "Flags, drink it up". The flamboyant, handsome Flag Lt who was as skilled in elbow bending as his handsome personality, displayed how down-the-hatch is exercised by seamen.

Quite naturally the Russians went into a huddle to decipher what this strange Indian tradition meant. Not to be caught unawares, Yassokov nonchalantly continued his second and third toasts. All three attempts were met with the same response and alacrity by our young Flag Lt. After a quick huddle in which the hosts came to the conclusion that they needed to have a greater understanding of Indian customs and perplexed with "the power of command" on display they wound up the discussions on a meek note.

Thus ended the last "battle" before the Indian ships were formally declared leaders of the ceremony-which of course was faultlessly executed.

2

The second story is when the Western Fleet entered Basra (Iraq) the same year after a very successful visit to Bandar Abbas (Iran). The ship secured at about 2100 hrs in a poorly lit harbour. The Admiral and I were walking on the Quarter deck of the Flag ship when he abruptly turned to me and said, "A white horse at 0600 hrs, Good Night."

We were trained never to argue with an Admiral. A foreign port with aliens and non English speaking interlocutors- a white horse? Serendipity some may say. Out of the darkness appears an Iraqi naval officer. "Sir," he says, "I am .... You were my training officer on INS Kirpan. What can I do for you, Sir?" I hugged him and said, "White horse at 0600 hrs. Good night."

So indeed was a white horse at the gangway at 0545 hrs. What next? At 0600 hrs the forward superstructure door opened and out came this grand person attired in full riding kit of ‘The Master of Fox Hounds'.

For those of you who are not familiar with the Defence Services Staff College at Connoor near Ooty, there exists even today a Hunt club.  Originally meant to hunt foxes which are now extinct, the club goes through the process of the hunt along with the hounds. The Master and the Committee members are normally attired in a special rig consisting of;

HUNT CAP WITH CHIN STRAPS, WHITE OR CREAM STOCK TIE SECURED WITH GOLD PIN, BLACK OR TAN GLOVES, CREAM OR WHITE VEST, CORUSCATING SCARLET LONG HUNTING JACKET WITH BRASS BUTTONS, WHITE OR TAN BREECHES AND BLACK DRESS RIDING BOOTS WITH GARTERS.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Admiral was immaculately turned out in that rig. He mounted the horse and rode into the port city of Basra. Soon curious onlookers started to line up on both sides of the road and either through curiosity or awe started to spread the word that a Prince had arrived on a visit to Basra. Not surprisingly, by the time the official engagements of calling on the local dignitaries commenced later in the day, the streets were full of cheering citizens and school children of Basra. The visit by the Western Fleet ships was termed as an outstanding success by the hosts.

If you are wondering what cemented this relationship between the Admiral and his three-in -one staff officer with an age gap of 20 years and  which continues to blossom, I can attribute it to a quote from Gen Pershing. He said, "In a social order in which one person is officially subordinate to another, the superior if he is a Gentleman never thinks of it and the subordinate if he is a Gentleman never forgets it."

Let me welcome the Admiral who taught me that pusillanimity, pussy footing and gerrymandering do not make a good leader....

Put your hands together to welcome Admiral Awati on stage.