^{The Wisdom of an Old Soldier}

The Wisdom of an Old Soldier by Peehu

Like all the best military anecdotes, it’s probably been embellished over the years, but that’s what makes Mess folklore so enduring. A bunch of young Infantry Officers (YOs) were having a raucous evening at the Officers’ Mess bar in Mhow.

It was probably their last carefree night together before they dispersed to their regiments to discover that real soldiering bore little resemblance to the comfortable life at the Academy.

An elderly veteran, perched quietly on the next bar stool, had been listening to their loud conversations.

As he got up to leave, he paused, looked at the youngsters and said, “I’ve been listening to you chaps. You’re all off to your regiments tomorrow, aren’t you? Here’s a piece of free advice. If you want to enjoy your Army career, make sure you completely ruin the very first job you’re given. Trust me, you’ll have a ball for the rest of your service.” The YOs laughed, assuming the old gentleman had sampled one drink too many. All except one, Lt Sangram.

Lt Sangram reported to his regiment, and a few days after joining, he was detailed as the Duty Officer to collect the regiment’s pay from the State Bank of India, accompanied by an armed escort. It was a routine assignment. Leave the unit at 1000 hours, collect the cash, and be back by 1300 hours. Five hours went by, but there was no sign of Lt Sangram. By 1700 hours, the Subedar Major was beside himself. He telephoned the CO. “Sir… the young officer hasn’t returned from the bank.”

The CO rushed to the unit, convinced something serious had happened. A Quick Reaction Team was being organised to search for the missing pay party when, to everyone’s immense relief, a one-ton truck came hurtling through the gate and screeched to a halt outside the Subedar Major’s office. Lt Sangram was immediately escorted to the CO. The CO, now a mixture of relief and volcanic anger, demanded, “What the hell happened?” “Sir,” replied Lt Sangram innocently, “I couldn’t find the bank.”

The CO blinked. “You couldn’t find the bank? In Nabha? Then what did you do all day?” Without missing a beat, Lt Sangram replied, “Sir… I went to see a movie.”

Legend has it that the explosion from the CO’s office was heard all over the cantonment. Poor YO got the dressing down of his young life, but the real victim turned out to be the CO. Within days, the entire station knew about “the officer who couldn’t find the bank.” Every Mess cocktail, every Ladies’ Club gathering and every conference had someone recounting the story and pointing to him too.

Lt Sangram had become a celebrity. Whenever Divisional Headquarters asked the regiment to provide an officer for some duty, the Adjutant would innocently say, “Lt Sangram is detailed, Sir.” The answer invariably came back, “Not him!”

“Sir, we don’t have anyone else.”

“Then never mind. I'll ask another unit."

And just like that, the regiment escaped yet another chore. While the rest of the officers were drowning in exercises, courts of inquiry, inspections, board duties and every imaginable extra responsibility, Lt Sangram quietly perfected the art of doing absolutely nothing of consequence. He was rarely nominated for important assignments because no one wanted to risk repeating “the bank incident.”

He enjoyed what every officer dreams of: good evenings, plenty of leisure, and an uninterrupted social life. Perhaps the old veteran in Mhow had known exactly what he was talking about. The moral, strictly for amusement, of course, is this: “If you’re brilliant from Day One, you become indispensable. The Army will discover you’re dependable and ensure you’re permanently overworked, but if your first impression is spectacularly unforgettable, expectations tend to remain pleasantly modest.”