Courtesy: Syed Hashmi
On 20th May, Nana Abu was again told to go to Dunkirk immediately, and to “throw away arms”. If his “men were unarmed and intercepted by Nazi troops they should surrender”. However, Nana Abu, in conference with his junior officers, decided to “move to the front with their arms” instead. He chose his route by looking at a map, not knowing the enemy’s location.
They left Lille after dusk on 21 May, Steenwerck the next morning. After getting some drinking water from the locals, he decided to move towards Forêt de Nieppe that afternoon, traveling about 36 miles over the course of 36 hours. He chose this roundabout route believing there would be less congestion, but found instead that the forest itself was full of refugees who had been told that the French army would protect them.
The forest was bombed by the Luftwaffe that evening. Nana Abu writes of hearing a “screaming noise in the sky as the enemy bombs came down”. Despite all his years of war, this was his first aerial bombardment. The forest was ablaze and the petrol dumps also located in the forest caught fire, causing yet more heat and smoke, and panic among the refugees. Nana Abu abandoned the rest of his mules at this point, and headed towards Le Temple. There, he took shelter from icy rain and wind inside a plantation — there, he saw food on the table and blankets laid out on beds.
On May 23, the unit ran into some German tanks and took shelter in a deep drain. Thankfully no one noticed them, but once again they were thoroughly cold and wet. On May 24, they reached Winnezeele and took shelter in some farm sheds. Nana Abu wanted to reach Dunkirk as quickly as possible — rations were running out.
I suspect Nana Abu reached Dunkirk by May 24. He writes of seeing “our defeated army in thousands in utter confusion”. Many of the boats were being overloaded and sinking, so he didn’t let his men take this route. On May 25, he was able to get some British volunteers and four lorries, and set off back towards his camp at Lille. By this time, the roads were clear and all the civilian traffic was being directed towards Paris. As he reached the village of Saint-André he saw a dogfight of fighters and was told that there was a tank battle underway near the Lille airport.
He filled the lorries with supplies and headed back towards Dunkirk, but this time around the shells had started falling and on arriving towards Armentières he once again ran into a traffic jam, as many of the civilians had decided “to die at home rather than die in the wilderness” — the Luftwaffe were using bombs and tracer bullets to keep civilians off the roads for their own advance, leading to “horrible scenes”. On the journey, he was strafed by two enemy planes, dropping bombs and machine gunning his lorries. He salvaged what he could and continued on towards Dunkirk. He reached the coast by May 27 and could see the glare of the burning docks.
Shortly after his arrival at Dunkirk, he was told to head towards the Malo-les-Bains beach. He realised that embarkation was not going to be easy, so he approached the embarkation commandant to offer the use of his men to help with the embarkation, especially since, at this point, his were the only men still with arms. He suggested a plan of using his men to work the routes, which was accepted. His Rissaldar Major Muhammad Ashraf Khan fed the civilians on the beach – many of whom were starving – and, in true Indian fashion, set up a free tea shop. Malo-Les-Bains had the only wharf which could be breached at two places and because of its length many boats could be berthed alongside it. Nana Abu posted an armed body at the first breach of the wharf to prevent gate crashing and used his unit’s trumpeter to organise the embarkation, using the terms “stand to attention” three times, followed by “fall in”, “stand at ease” and finally “stand fast”. When there was no more capacity for entering the wharf, the trumpeter sounded “Halt!”
On the way, Rissaldar Major Mohammed Ashraf Khan made tea for the crew and contingent. When they landed in Dover, before boarding the trains, the men used the copper buckets and trays they had used for chai to play folk tunes. Everyone joined in the spontaneous dance. The British soldier earlier referenced in Mackenzie’s book, wrote of the arrival of the Indian troops in Plymouth, “The conduct of a big majority of our troops was unspeakable. One would have thought the war was over instead of suffering one of the greatest defeats in military history … their devil-may-care attitude was one that I could have accredited perhaps to the training and temperament of Italian troops … I saw a group of Indian troops arriving at my port before going to the trains lined up, were dressed off, and marched from the docks”.
Nana Abu lost none of his men during the evacuation of Dunkirk. The whole force lost 12 men.
The public relations department took notice of the performance of Nana Abu’s men both in Dunkirk and Dover and highlighted his efforts especially since he was a veteran of World War I. He started making radio broadcasts again and toured the UK. He met the King at Buckingham Palace. Later, in Sept 1940, the King visited his unit. The unit fed the King and Queen on Indian foods and gave some extra for their children. Rissaldar Major Mohammed Ashraf Khan would go on to be the only Indian who was personally decorated by the King with Indian Order of Merit. Nana abu’s service was not over, as he would serve in Burma and towards the end of the war help with the resettlement of prisoners of war and returning soldiers. He was also involved with the creation of the Fauji Foundation.
As I write these words in 2017, I am about the same age Nana Abu was when he started his World War II journey. Over two million Indians served in the war like my great grandfather (including five of his brothers). They served in theaters of war not started by them. In essence, these Indians, and other “natives” all across the world carried the British burden, and it’s doubtful the Allied victory would have been possible without their service and sacrifice. Nana Abu’s unit was a mule company from another era that survived the Blitzkrieg. These men navigated an unfamiliar terrain with maps — no GPS, no mobile phones, not even a working radio to keep in touch with a headquarter that had little interest if any in their welfare.
Despite the discrimination, they kept their humanity and went out of their way to help those they could, in whatever small ways they had at their disposal. In his memoirs, the only people Nana Abu is concerned about are his men and the civilians who had to relive another world war in their lifetime.
When Pakistan was formed, due to his seniority and rank, Nana Abu’s army number was 'Pak Army 1'. He turned down serving as the first chief of the Pakistan army, so his brother was then slated for the position, but died in an airplane accident — had he survived, perhaps our nation’s history would have been different.
In retirement, Nana Abu became an author and wrote books in both Urdu and English. It is interesting he chose to write his books during a time when the army was becoming ascendant. It appears most of these books are addressed directly to the army he had left, but I don’t think anyone there listened. As the years passed, he became an old soldier who slowly faded away.
His Urdu memoir, Meri Manzil (My Destination), details some of the struggles he saw during Partition. I wish I could have asked if he approved of the military takeovers. Was this the country that was his destination, a place where his own grand and great grand grandchildren would be considered outsiders, a place whose army enriched itself at the cost of the nation?
It is interesting to compare his pictures pre and post-retirement. Pre-retirement, the pictures are with soldiers and he is almost always in uniform. Post-retirement, he is almost invariably surrounded by family, with a genial smile on his face. His grandchildren have memories of an affectionate old man, living in an old crumbling house, one that became a second home for his extended family.
His home, in my childhood, could be seen from Drigh Road and its colour gave the bus stop nearby its name. Now, this home has been swallowed up by an ever expanding Karachi. In something out of Faiz’s Mera Dil Mera Musafir, my own mother today cannot find this house of which she has so many fond memories. I wonder if the people at the bus stop ever wonder why it carries its name.
Most of his own children, and certainly almost all of his grandchildren, were more educated than he ever was. Nana Abu barely had a 10th grade education. But I doubt we will travel the same distance in our lifetimes. We remain in his shadow, in awe of his deeds, his sacrifices, and because of him we have the freedom to choose where and how we live. By the time I was born, I think the dementia had set in. I don’t remember him speaking, but I still remember his upright, regal bearing and his crushing handshake. I doubt we shall see his like again.
An earlier version of the article was printed in LRB.UK