I Am Not A Mercenary

Developing Just Leadership

Col. Sayyed Ghaffar Mehdi

Dhu al-Hijjah 05, 1446 2025-06-01

News & Analysis

by Col. Sayyed Ghaffar Mehdi (News & Analysis, Crescent International Vol. 55, No. 4, Dhu al-Hijjah, 1446)

(The late Colonel Mehdi, a highly decorated military officer, was Group Commander, Pakistan Special Services Group, aka Commandos)

I only followed Sir John Nicholson to Delhi to fight against the Indian mutineers who wanted a native scion of a once dynamic but now degenerate Mughal dynasty, as Emperor of India. Personally, I saw nothing wrong in giving my loyalty, lending my sword to the British and shutting the apertures of my window of national consciousness.

I am not a mercenary — but a true soldier in the most positive professional sense. I never touch a drop of alcohol, observe the ritual of prayers whenever the parade or manoeuvre timings so permit and keep all my fasts, listen with respectful attention to the recitation of the noble Qur’an from the regimental maulvi sahib, who is also not a mercenary, but who only gives us that interpretation of the Qur’an, Sunnah and Hadith as desired by Colonel Sahib or Adjutant Sahib.

I am not a mercenary though I did fight against the Turks in the First World War in Hejaz, Syria and Iraq and I also lent a hand in suppressing the fight of Indonesian Muslims after the end of Second World War. I also helped in the suppression of the revolt of Rashid in Iraq and joined hands with British and Russian forces in occupying Iran during the Second World War and was blissfully unconcerned when a highly patriotic and nationalist king was deposed by a pair of strangers — looking bad fellows, one looking like a lion and the other a bear!

I am not a mercenary but a highly skilled and disciplined soldier. On little pay and a simple meal, I am ready to negotiate the deserts of Middle East, jungles of Burma, mountainous Tibet or Italy and mud of Flanders. I have followed my Colonel Sahib’s command and my General Sahib’s orders — sometimes to fight for and against Italians (1939–45), against Germans and for France. Though I must say that I did not know the reason what the fight was about.

I also fought against the Chinese. My regimental mess still has curtains, carpets, crockery and cut glass looted from one of the palaces of Peking — of those items now adorn my army museum.

I followed my Colonel Sahib and fought against the Japanese — an Asian nation — without hating them. I have used my machine gun against the unruly crowd of “cowards of nationalism”, or “religious fanatics” of any faith — including my own.

My discipline and training has made me one of the finest professional soldiers of the world. For over a century I have fought without a cause and without hate. But I am not a mercenary.

When I took my position in front of the telephone exchange of Karachi on a certain night in October 1958, it was in accordance with the orders given to me by my company commander, who got his orders from Colonel Sahib, who in turn was ordered by his Brigade Commander. And the Divisional Commander was so ordered by the GHQ — and that in 1958 meant Ayub as C-in-C, Yahya my Chief of General Staff, Hamid Khan my Director of Training and Brigadier Peerzada our Director of Military Operations.

Again, it was in the execution of lawful command when I along with my fellows in arm took our positions in front of Pakistan Television Studios, Post and Telephone Exchange on some day in March 1969. This time, as in the past, the orders came from GHQ — which meant Yahya Khan the C-in-C, Hamid Khan my Corps Commander and Peerzada our Adjutant General. Yes — same names, same persons, same diabolical design but with greater finesse. As a professional my job and faith (oath) is to obey.

Sometimes in 1970–71 I went to East Pakistan and helped to restore the authority of the Central Government. It was not a difficult task and turned out to be much easier than my two century experiences of battle fields of Europe, Asia and Africa.

There was no organized resistance and where ever it was attempted, soon crumbled in the face of our superior weapon system and professionalism. Having done that, I washed my hands of human blood and faced the Ka‘aba and offered my prayers.

In my prayers I asked for His blessings for the well-being of my children and wife; of my aged parents; invoked His bounty in asking for my promotion to the next rank and prayed for the recognition of my bravery against the rebels as well as safe return home.

But all this does not make me a mercenary. It is only that my duty compels me to fire my gun aimed at the chest of anyone who comes in my rifle’s sight whenever I am so ordered.

But when it came to meeting the aggression of Indian regular armed forces, my commander, self-proclaimed Tiger, ordered ceasefire and promptly changed stripes. Like his other junta colleagues, this highly and illogically lionised (by West Pakistan Press and lobby) commander of East Pakistan, had no understanding of strategic dimensions of warfare.

Surely you do not expect a professional to fight to die; and believe me there were only two alternatives: Surrender or die fighting. But getting killed was sheer madness and being a highly skilled professional soldier, I know my duty: the duty of a professional is to live to fight for another day. Only a National Army — a People’s Army dies on the field of battle, on the field of honour.

There is a difference between combating internal insurrection and fighting against powerful external aggression equipped with equal, if not superior weapon system, larger in numbers and operating, strategically speaking, on exterior lines. Understanding of all this, however, comes from deep knowledge of total dimensions of war.

Few amongst us, who could comprehend this subtlety of the art of warfare, were kicked out of the army by us or placed in ineffective appointments — thus none among the top brass could lend sanity to strategy.

Those who were picked to lead us, mainly because of our successfully contrived lobbying and psychological campaigning over a period of a decade or more, had only rudimentary, and childish conception of war. And the result — exactly as any one with basic commonsense could have easily forecast: ignominious surrender — a logical outcome for a society paying premium to inefficiency, flattery, hypocrisy and chicanery over two decades.

But let me tell you that there is no shame inherent in surrendering en masse; no one will ever dare call a large body of professionals surrendering to the enemy a disgraceful act.

On the contrary, many vested interests at home pre-occupied with their own rise and shout themselves hoarse to call our action justified and place entire responsibility of our debacle elsewhere. Woe betide anyone who attempts to tell the truth and call a spade a spade. He will be dubbed an enemy agent and a traitor. But it does not mean that we run no risks whatsoever.

Some professionals do die and bravely, on the battlefield. And those who die fighting bravely are even luckier than those who survive. A grateful nation lavishly showers, besides rose petals, parchments of deeds of plots for bungalows, cinemas, petrol pumps, squares of land etc.

The point not to be missed however is that the number of Shaheeds must not be large. Just imagine the plight of a million war widows of Germans or dependents left by a couple of million Russian dead soldiers in World War II!

How shall I convince you that I am not a mercenary. I am unconcerned by the fact that my regimental standards still proudly bear the list of battle honours won on battlefields far flung from home and further flung from any positive cause. There is “Seringapatam” on my Regimental Battle Honours. Yes, I did fight against Tipu Sultan. Did he not, almost by himself, stand in between national chaos (Tipu called it honourable survival) and Pax Britannica?

Among other names I find Gallipoli and Kut ul Amara! I surrendered at the latter place to the Turks who were at a loss to understand my motive in fighting against the custodians of the Ka‘aba! I bewildered the Turks even more when they saw me facing towards the Ka‘aba and saying my prayers to Allah for His continued blessings.

Some of us, rather misguided and confused, did defect and went over to the enemy — the Turks, as some of us defected from our ranks and joined Indonesian nationalists in Java in 1946. By and large our discipline and regimental esprit de corps, and our motto of “not to reason why” and loyalty to the British Crown kept our ranks intact and thus we saved the honour of our regimental standards.

These regimental standards still occupy places of honour as in days gone by. A professional must have his traditions and live by them. In the temple of professionals there is room for gods of all denominations. Delhi 1857... Seringapatam... Plassey... Kut... Gallipoli... Persia 1961... Dacca 1971... March and December...

Post-Partition period presented me no problem at all as both the original structure of our forces as well as values of life retained their century-plus colonial status quo. Blending with harmony of Cross and Crescent in our armed forces... Major General... M.C. (Military Cross) H.J. (Hilal-e-Jurat) is but one illustration of the point made. Among other things, this harmonious blending of old rivals (Cross & Crescent) dating back to the Crusades and yonder times, goes to show that the loyalty and mental horizon of a professional are not limited to narrow national frontiers.

If a professional fears anyone it is a nationally-minded maniac, who places service before self, country before family and Millat before Province — in short, who completely absorbs himself in acquiring through sustained dedicated study the intricacies and complexities of the art of war in all its dimensions — geopolitical, economic, social, psychological, as well as moral and ethical.

We did have a few of them before 1947 and even then, these misguided ones who used to daydream of a strange country non-existent at that time, now called Pakistan. We avoided their company to ensure survival and after 14th August 1947, soon took care of these “Spartans” in our body and destroyed their careers by using highly proved psychological warfare techniques.

For example, we dubbed some of them as “Staff Officer type only” (as if the strategic conception grows out of feet as opposed to head); others fell victim to our campaign of “Not son of the soil”, and in an odd case where the personality and reputation won on and off battle field was really towering, we simply spread the word round and the mafia elders just said “Nyet” in the Selection Board. And that was that.

Well, I am not a mercenary. I am, therefore, not at all worried about my future. Anyone who comes in power — “A”, “B”, “Y” or “Z” — shall need the support of professionals — unless he replaces this august body of professionals created by Clives and Hastings, Probyns and Hudsons, Kitcheners and Skinners with a people’s army.

And let no one dare think of changing the character, structure, mental and moral horizon of our cadre from professional to national or from colonial to people’s army.

Beware of the wrath of Pretorian Guards. The last chapter of “Men on Horseback” is yet to be written.

19 April 1972

(Signed: Sayyed G. Mehdi)