1965: A view from the Other Side of the Hill

Review of 'Memoirs of Lt. Gen. Gul Hassan Khan'

https://medalsandribbons.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/Final-Consolidated-pdf-MR-July-2025.pdf, pp. 114-119

https://www.thecitizen.in/in-depth/1965-a-view-from-the-other-side-of-the-hill-1165545

Brigadier Gul Hassan Khan was Pakistan Army’s Director Military Operations (DMO) during the India-Pakistan 1965 War. He had been in the chair for the preceding four years, so was privy both to the preparations during the run up and the conduct of operations. His Memoirs, that cover his professional career, carry his observations of the 1965 War. Since the Memoirs are of a forthright officer and written in a straight forward manner, his account of the War, from the unique vantage of a DMO, can be taken as reasonably fair.

Its treatment of the War is reminiscent of Palit’s War in High Himalayas, since Palit was Indian DMO during India’s China War of 1962. Whereas Palit’s is an entire book with his side of the story, Gul Hassan devotes only a portion of his book to 1965, with another substantial section covering his role in the 1971 War as Chief of General Staff (CGS), having both operations and intelligence directorates under him.

Besides Gul Hassan proving to be an engaging author, one with a keen sense of humour, his book is ‘unputdownable’ also because of his sketch of the Pakistan army in its formative years and attaining maturity on the anvil of successive wars with India. Not self-exculpatory, but being more a scathing critique of the army, the book is a valid source on understanding India’s long-time foe.

This article presents Gul Hassan’s version of the 1965 War.

Getting to the know the author

Gul Hassan got to being DMO by sheer dint of professional capability. A product of the Prince of Wales Royal Military College, Dehra Dun, he was commissioned into the Infantry from the Indian Military Academy during the Second World War. The highlight of his war years was in action he witnessed when temporarily with a Rajput battalion deployed in the vicinity of the famous tennis court at Kohima. Later, more substantially, his appointment as aide to ‘Bill’ Slim during the impressionable years of service had a lasting influence on his military life. He observed at firsthand what leadership is and generalship at the operational level is all about. Later, after Partition, as aide to Qaid-e-Azam Jinnah, he imbibed an abiding sense of probity and secularism.

Transferred to the armoured corps, he joined the Probyn’s Horse. Pakistan being member of an American-led anti-Soviet pact, professional growth of officers of Hassan’s generation benefited by the exposure to United States’ (US) training and hardware. Hassan did a tank course in the US and gained an understanding of mechanized warfare that stood him in good stead as a tank regiment and independent armoured brigade group commander. This background placed him well to take over as DMO in January 1961.

The pre-War years

On his very first meeting with his boss, CGS Yahya Khan - later of 1971 infamy - Gul Hassan was given the task of revamping the war plans in light of changes in the capabilities of both sides, India and Pakistan, and terrain changes from canal building. With its American connection deepening by late fifties, Pakistan had adopted the New Concept of Defence, involving greater frontages held by firepower, releasing manpower for raising additional formations, such as the raising of 11 Division for the Kasur sector. Equipped with two light machine guns, a section in defensive role could now hold a wider frontage. The drawback was that frontages were lightly held, which was problematic in face of the higher numbers India could bring to bear in attack.

The revised plans were eventually approved by President Ayub Khan, who though heading the country, also kept tabs on the military side. In essence the plans involved creation and tasking of a counter offensive capability, such as an additional, 6 Armoured Division, being raised. As it turned out, India was not able to keep track of this formation with telling results on outcome in the Sialkot sector. Even so, there was a shortfall of two divisions and a corps headquarters, for which sanction for new raisings was proceeded with but neither materialized by war outbreak.

The reserves created were earmarked for operations respectively in the corridors to north and south of the River Ravi. Gul Hassan was proponent of an early start to offensive operations. To him, the weaker side compensated by seizing the initiative and keeping the stronger side – India - off-balance. To Army Chief, General Musa, this was against the government policy of not initiating a war. A compromise was arrived at in that instead of an offensive, an early counter offensive would be launched on initiation of operations by India.

Even as the plans were upgraded, the DMO kept abreast of developments heralding war. Emerging from its defeat by China in 1962, India was expanding its military. The growth of its air force was seen as particularly threatening. Alongside, political activity with changing the status quo in Kashmir was ongoing, eventuating in the unrest in Kashmir in late 1963 over the episode of Holy relic at Hazratbal. Alerted to an opportunity, Pakistan stepped up to stoke it.

Pakistan army trained and launched volunteers into Kashmir. The aim, conjured up by Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto-led foreign ministry was to ‘defreeze’ the Kashmir issue with application of ‘pressure’. A Kashmir Cell was set up with the foreign secretary chairing it. Since the Indian army got the better of the irregulars sent in, a concerted plan was drawn up for guerrilla activity by ‘Azad Kashmir’-deployed 12 Division, Operation Gibraltar. Operation Grandslam was prepared, yet again by 12 Division, to be launched as contingency in support of Operation Gibraltar. To the DMO, such support could only be in the form of the military crossing the Ceasefire Line, which could only provoke Indian response, including across the border. However, the foreign ministry was convinced that the operations would be restricted to Kashmir, leading to Pakistan adopting the policy: ‘Do not provoke. Do not escalate.’

Alongside, the Kutch incident broke out at the other end of the border in early 1965. Hassan records being unimpressed by Tikka Khan – later famous as the Butcher of Dacca - whose 8 Division was not only slovenly in mobilizing from Quetta but also did not exploit success after its attack. Even so, the Kutch outcome encouraged the Pakistan army, though it lost some posts in the Kargil sector to Indian action soon thereafter. The two sides mobilized during the incident and remained watchful thereafter.

The War through the DMO’s eyes

The irregulars were making no progress in Kashmir, not having received the support from the locals as they were led to believe. Operation Gibraltar was readied hastily in May after the Kutch crisis had subsided, and launched in August with little preparation. Some troops of the reserve division, 7 Division, now being commanded by Yahya Khan, were also sucked in. The DMO was not involved in its intricacies, but with India gaining the upper hand, prospects of launch of Operation Grandslam heightened. Just as India took Bedori and linked up Uri and Poonch, the DMO supported the bid of 12 Division for the urgent launch of Grandslam to snap Indian communication lines at Akhnur. However, dithering at the higher level – that of CGS Sher Bahadur, Army Chief Musa and President Ayub Khan – delayed that launch to 1 September. Though it got off to a rapid start, it bogged down midway with a change in command between the commanders of 12 Division, charismatic and innovative Akhtar Malik, and 7 Division’s Yahya, an inexplicable pause from which the thrust was not allowed to recover by Indian firming in.

On 4 September, getting early warning of Indian preparation for operations across the entire front, the DMO alerted all formations. Though after the Kutch engagement, there had been a disengagement, and troops had been permitted some leave. But by 6 September, most formations were at battle stations when India crossed the border in the plains sector. Though cautioned, 10 Division, opposite Lahore, had not quite deployed fully. Even so, forward zone elements bought them enough to avoid a critical situation developing. This complacency perhaps explains how 3 Jat got a foothold across the Bambanwala-Ravi-Bedian (BRB) canal, popularly in India, the Ichhogil Canal. Later, 10 Division launched a counter attack with limited forces, but could not fully retrieve the area lost up to the border.

Alerted to the outbreak of operations in the Sialkot-Sharkargarh sector by the confused beginning of fighting in Jassar sub-sector, the DMO was not overly concerned when India’s 1 Armoured Division made its appearance in the sector on 8 September. In anticipation, Pakistanis had placed its 6 Armoured Division in the area, which gave battle in a defensive role. Though some penetration was achieved by the Indians, the fierce battles around Chawinda ensured no dent in the main defences in Sialkot sector. Much further south, the Pakistanis had a brigade each at Sulaimanki and lower Sindh, whose performance was relatively independent of intimate oversight by the General Headquarters; thus, with greater operational leeway, the two were more successful.

The highlight of 1965 War was the Pakistani counter offensive by its 1 Armoured Division from Kasur. The aim was to seal off the Beas-Sutlej corridor by, maximally, seizing the bridge at Beas, or, minimally, to force the Indian thrust towards Lahore to recoil by threatening its rear along the Barki axis. Alongside, it would thwart any outflanking move by India from the south of Lahore. The plans for the counter offensive had been made earlier, with the DMO urging the 11 Division and 1 Armoured Division commanders to coordinate their respective roles. 11 Division was to establish a bridgehead across Rohi Nallah for the armoured division to breakout across it. It was in the execution of the operation that the Pakistanis faulted, with the major tactical error being the withdrawal by night to laager, on two successive nights, by the armoured division’s leading elements of 5 Armoured Brigade. This allowed time to India to seal off that thrust line, where Havildar Abdul Hameed is credited for his immortal deed. On the operation fizzling out, some elements of the armoured division were moved to Sialkot sector under a new commander - one for the first time from the armoured corps - for a counter attack, but were not in a fit enough condition to be launched before the ceasefire came into effect.

The DMO’s reflections

Gul Hassan reflects on both counter offensives failing. Grandslam failed due to the delay in its launch, which should have coincided with the capture of Hajipir, and the untimely change-over of command just after the initial phase. The operations of 1 Armoured Division were under a constraint of limited armoured infantry availability. 7 Infantry Division, that was to the infantry component of the reserve with 1 Armoured Division for the Ravi-Sutlej corridor, had already been sucked into the two operations in Kashmir. Also, 11 Division was not able to spare infantry, though with the offensive across its frontage, it was secure enough to have spared some. This showed up the shortage of a Corps headquarters, that had been bid for but not provisioned timely. It was only set up in the following year. The DMO blames the higher military leadership, Musa, for not pressing the case with the government, which in the event, was also led by a military man, Ayub. Apparently, Musa pointed to a poor economy as excuse against pressing for the filling up the gap.

Though history has it that the showing of both armies was credible and the War itself was a draw of sorts, the DMO is unsparing in his criticism of the Pakistani showing. True for both armies is gallantry at lower levels. However, structural, organizational and cultural factors need an accounting.

Gul Hassan, inter-alia, dwells on lack of felicity in armoured warfare. The leading armoured brigade commander of 1 Armoured Division was a cavalry officer, and had been an instructor at Quetta staff college. Gul Hassan speculates that had he placed himself right behind the leading elements for intimate control, the break out could not have been stanched. The bridgehead itself was in a rather clustered space, not allowing logistics elements room enough to replenish forward. A natural crossing downstream was not exploited but a new bridge was launched when the only crossing was damaged by a tank. However, Gul Hassan’s major grouse is in the leadership of 1 Armoured Division. He is categoric that the first three commanders not being cavalrymen, they lacked mechanized expertise and a bent for auftragstaktik and therefore could not impart a maneuver culture to their command. The incumbent commander, though having commanded an armoured brigade, was not capacitated enough to merit the appointment.

Gul Hassan’s dissecting of the shortcomings of the Pakistan army has instructive value universally, and on that count must make for a mandatory reading at war colleges. While it is true that the Pakistan army has professionalized much since then, the snapshot he provides of it in the sixties is valid for any army anywhere that departs from professional standards and roles.

He rightly begins at the top. Since Ayub Khan was forced to shepherd the country after politicians and bureaucrats proved self-centered, he placed tractable generals in the key positions in the army. Consequently, the army leadership lost its professionalism. A direct consequence was of decline in training standards, with tactical exercises without troops finding favour since it is easier to push large bodies off troops across a map or sand table. A divide opened up between the senior and junior leadership and groupism made an appearance. The staff was increasingly demanding of units, while reports and returns up the chain were unwarrantedly rosy, especially - and tragically as it turned out - on state of equipment. The security apparatus got a ballast at the cost of trust, to the extent that the outbreak of the War caught the air force by surprise! Most significantly, the institution of the Commanding Officer, the most important link in the command chain, stood devalued.

Incidentally, such straits were not markedly different from that of the Indian army, in light of the relegation of the military in the national consciousness through the fifties. Recall also that the glut of vacancies in higher ranks had resulted in speedier promotions into higher ranks, with some not even having commanded battalions. However, the 1962 War was a timely wake up call, making the government and the army, quickly pull up their socks. So, when War broke out, Indian army had an opportunity to exorcise 1962.

The aftermath

The following year Gul Hassan went on to command 1 Armoured Division, turning it into a cracking formation. He was then back to the GHQ, this time as CGS, an appointment in which he witnessed the run up to the 1971 War and the disaster there – though playing no part in the atrocity crimes that occurred. As CGS, he was a vociferous advocate of the defence of East Pakistan lying in the West and for a speedy offensive to undercut Indian operations in the East before it had time to revert to the West. As CGS, he had pushed for the Eastern Command under Niazi – who he likens to an over promoted company commander – to concentrate early for the defence of Dacca, knowing fully well that a late withdrawal would not be possible in light of Indian outflanking thrusts and the insurgency peaking. However, as is well known, Niazi held the periphery and strong points, intending to prevent loss of a portion of East Pakistan on which the Bangladeshi flag could be hoisted. As a result, he lost the whole. For his part, Yahya’s procrastination over an offensive in the West squarely led to the colossal defeat.

At the bottom of the defeat was not so much the Pakistani army, but the dismal state of politics in Pakistan, personified by Bhutto. Having spent some time with the Qaid-e-Azam, Gul Hassan was aware of the gulf that existed in the standards of political leadership set by Jinnah and the political reality in Pakistan. He saw the role and culpability of Bhutto in goading Ayub into the 1965 War; in bringing about a political impasse in early 1971; and, finally, how post ’71 War, Bhutto tried to degrade the Pakistan army. Having been elevated by Bhutto to Army Chief after the 1971 War, Gul Hassan was unable to stomach the shenanigans of Bhutto. He was forced to resign, but compensated with an ambassadorship in Europe.

Gul Hassan did not get to have a combat command experience, though he appears to have a yen for command. An interesting counter-factual is if he had been in command of 1 Armoured Division, what might have been the showing of the division in battle. Another could well be, if he had been in command in Dacca, what might have been the outcome in ’71.

(Incidentally, encyclopedic Hamid Hussain, the ‘military archaeologist of Pakistan’, informs of Gul Hassan’s refusal of the offer of command in Dacca. A contemporary and fellow school mate, Yakub Khan, resigned from the assignment in dissent against the policy of suppression of Bengali nationalism. History could have been different.)

Personalities matter. For that reason, it is important that higher military leadership is chosen well. We need look no further than Manekshaw for evidence. The major takeaway from the book then is that military leaders must stay apolitical to stay professional and the political class must enable this. Not doing so is sure recipe for a drubbing as Pakistan has found to its great cost in 1965 and more so in 1971.

Book Review: Gul Hassan Khan, Memoirs of Lt. Gen. Gul Hassan Khan, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993, ISBN 978-0-19-574329-2, pp. 438, Rs. 395.

 https://aliahd66.substack.com/p/pahalgam-to-war-or-not-to-war-is

https://thewire.in/security/to-war-or-not-to-war-indias-military-options-after-pahalgam

https://www.thecitizen.in/opinion/to-war-or-not-to-war-is-the-question-1136345

Pahalgam: To War or Not to War is the Question

Twenty years since the Cold Start doctrine was trotted out, there has been no Cold Start-like operation in wake of the dastardly terror attack near Pahalgam, though Cold Start was designed to address just such contingencies.

It is possible that it may have figured in the options the military top brass presented to Raksha Mantri (RM) Rajnath Singh at their two-and-half hours long meeting.

The RM may have taken the options with him for the Cabinet Committee on Security that met soon after. The CCS opted instead for some tame measures to signal intent.

A guard commander at the border retreat parade will not shake hands with his opposite number, while the Indus water flow is to be tapered off, though no meaningful capacity to do so exists.

The time lapse has put paid to Cold Start as an option for a timely retribution for terror acts that go beyond Indian tolerance threshold.

The defence minister has set the Indian threshold of tolerance in the decade since the Uri episode at ‘0’.

Rhetoric boxes Indians into chancing the military option.

Since Pakistan has also had its sitting of its national security committee, it can be reckoned that the Pakistan army is geared up for taking on an Indian Cold Start of any proportion: Cold Start lite or the whole hog.

It has already broadcast its intent, considering diversion of river waters an ‘act of war’ warranting response with ‘full force across the complete spectrum of national power.’ The good part of such belligerence is that it is against a non-existent threat.

With a reflexive offensive ruled out, and Pakistan’s army likely sitting in anticipatory mode, a deliberate offensive at a higher echelon of violence gets ruled in.

A general has advised, ‘revenge is a dish best eaten cold.’

Another general has it that the dish would be cold enough by the time the snows melt along the Line of Control (LC). Pakistan’s rescinding the Simla Agreement temporarily suggests an effort on its part to direct Indian attention to the LC as a prospective scene of the forthcoming action.

The author thinks taking out all launch pads there, while threatening Pakistan’s core national territory, might keep well below the nuclear threshold, an awning that Pakistan would pretend to draw down and wrap around itself at the first shot.

The advice is seemingly apt.

There is just about time for troops to get reacquainted with their hot war objectives and logistics staged forward. It had taken all of three weeks during Operation Parakram, which one chief since assured had been reduced to but a few days thereafter.

The preparation would be necessary now that the Pakistan army is forewarned by no less than Prime Minister going ballistic - in English at that - while kicking off his Bihar election campaign.

Analysts have it that the moment is propitious for a military blow. Pakistan is tottering, finally. A case for ‘ek dhakka aur do’ is being built.

The military-backed government is unpopular. The army chief consigned its most popular politician to jail. Army Chief Asim Munir’s recent diatribe proves that it is wary of terrorism besetting Pakistan.

Externally, with Trump at its helm, there is no love lost between the United States (US) and Pakistan. The Chinese, besides being diverted in a trade war with the US, have lately been cozying up to India, as part of their counter-containment strategy. The war on Gaza has demonstrated that the Muslim world is comatose. Its leading light, the Saudis, are understanding of Indian predicament, witness as they were to Modi’s hurried departure from their shores.

With world opinion behind India, a former Indian army chief opines that it could get away with using the Israeli rationale for its war on Gaza - self-defence. Such advocates miss the disparity between the death toll in the two cases – 7 October and 22 April.

They also betray a misunderstanding of international law, which is permissive of self-defence in the singular case of a real-time response to an armed attack. Both Israel - and earlier the US in Iraq - were afoul of the law.

Internally, the regime has lately landed up with egg on its face, with the Supreme Court’s embarrassing it over the Waqf amendments and over one of its governor’s dilatory antics. And there is the Bihar election, the prospective results of which are open - compelling a Pulwama-like maneuver on part of the regime.

Even so, the military is no doubt already taking surreptitious preparatory steps.

Egged on by media and social media, it might want to retrieve lost ground in public esteem in for allowing the terror attack to go through in first place.

It may want to make for its repositioning of forces to Ladakh from areas south of Pir Panjals, whence likely sprang the terror attack.

It also has to live down the Ladakh intrusions, later partially vacated more by talk than walking the talk.

Its leadership, with ‘deep selection’ as incentive, may well fall in line with regime compulsions.

The political leadership might want an escape valve from pressures on its falling short in Kashmir.

The magnitude of the impending operation being unknown, is - to General Naravane - useful in keeping the enemy on ‘tenterhooks’.

To be fair to the general, his book that promised to be a tell-all was not allowed to be published, else we’d have known why the south of Pir Panjals was denuded and a gap in recruiting numbers – per a general familiar to TV audiences - allowed to be opened.

Instead, tenterhooks will goad the enemy on. He gets time to practice all contingencies. The longer the wait for the revenge dish to cool, the better poised he gets.

No doubt the army has followed Russia’s Ukraine campaign intimately. It knows that getting into a scrap is easier than getting out of the resulting muddle.

It has read its Clausewitz, who had it that defence is the stronger form of war. Taking on an enemy in deliberate defence, as would be the case hereon, would hardly be a repeat of Kargil. China would be on trial as friend, and Turkey and Iran – both avid manufacturers of drones – might not allow India a cake walk.

Finding the going tougher than anticipated, it may be tempted to reinforce failure, with an ‘escalate to deescalate’ rationale. This being also true for the opposite side, it would set up an escalatory tango.

Even success has its underside: witness the rush for Dacca in a departure from the original war aim in 1971.

Both scenarios reduce credibility of the sanguine advice that the nuclear threshold is high enough for a conventional joust below it.

The only thing going for the argument that the nuclear threshold is but a red-herring is that India does not have the ability to provoke such resort by Pakistan.

The army by not taking off already on a Cold Start offensive shows itself as sluggish. Air power is reportedly at its lowest ebb. Taking the war to the seas will only reduce the world’s most significant waterway to a Red Sea-like situation, rapidly losing India friends and sympathy.

Pakistan would not have a third party on hand to bail it out this time round. The onus on de-escalation thereafter will mostly be on the two belligerents, who might find it as difficult a proposition as does Putin in Ukraine.

Asim Munir could turn out a Zelensky. The recently returned Indian military adviser might add that Munir will make up with fanaticism what he patently lacks in professionalism. Munir is not a product of Pakistan’s military mainstream, coming from a seminary background without benefit of conditioning at Kakul.

For its part, the political leadership this side may not be able to get off the bellicose tiger it’s been riding for over a decade.

Consequently, any military contemplation of war places a heavy premium on its professional advisory responsibility at the grand-strategic level.

To be sure, fall in line it must, but let retrospect show it served its political masters well and the nation fully.

It bears reminding wars are not only about the military meeting political aims by delivering on military objectives.

The upcoming war is not only about Pakistan, as one commentator wishfully has it.

The regime will use a war and war’s instrument, the military, for its purposes, that are not necessarily the national interest, traditionally defined.

Politically, a war – more so one that is won – will lead to heightened authoritarianism. There would be no end to Narendra Modi’s narcissism if he were to overtake Indira’s Durga image.

Economically, even if only another face-off, the aftermath will see a greater thrust towards crony capitalism, riding as it already on the creation of a military-industrial complex, betrayed by the distracting argument that the defence sector is leading Indian manufacturing revival.

Socially, war or no war, the communal divide will only deepen. That would be useful when Bengal comes up for elections soon after, for which the pieces are already being marshalled.

Lastly, this heinous act closely resembles the one at Chattisinghpora. Both timed with visits of American dignitaries. The latter had fingerprints of a false-flag operation, while Pakistan – as is its wont - claims Pahalgam is one too.

The laboured communal turn to the Baisaran killings and the benefits – albeit perverse – that accrue to India’s majoritarian extremists suggest a pause.

It would not do to go to a war just because tit-for-tat intelligence operations of the two sides – the train incident in Balochistan and Baisaran – have gone out of control.

A hypothetical war at this stage can only have a communal aim, collapsing the Pakistani Muslim with the Indian Muslim.

It would decisively vindicate Munir’s infamous reiteration of the two-nation theory, coincidentally held by India’s right-wing mothership. Worse, it would set the stage for the One Nation of the latter’s imagining.

Military leadership at the apex level is not about shifting paintings around in the office and renaming sprees.

It is about ability to think one-up: to appreciate political factors and how these impinge on the grand-strategic. They must be able to credibly remind Modi of his own mantra: this is not the time for war.

Can the current-day top brass professionally shoulder a juncture manifestly more fraught than one that confronted Manekshaw in April ’71?