IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 102 - UNSUNG HEROS - Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

“How were you so cool on the operation table, sir?” the young intern asked, as I was being wheeled out of Operation Theatre.

“I was confident for two reasons. My mouth was drier than a sandstorm in Rajasthan when they first took me inside. The fear of the unknown was real. Then—poof!—like magic, it vanished the moment Lt Col S. Shivakumar walked up and said he would be operating. You see, two days back I had noticed the Rashtriya Rifles badge on his chest. And anyone who has served in RR… I trust them with my life. After all I did two tenures in RR.

Then I glanced at the anaesthesiologist. Another Lt Col. That meant about 13 years in service.”

The intern leaned forward, curious. “But sir, what does that have to do with confidence?”

“Arrey, everything! You see, Army doctors below 25 years of service have seen hell in their first field tenures with RR and Infantry units. They weren’t just doctors. They doubled up as Adjutants, Quartermasters, sometimes even Company Commanders. In those moments, they weren’t just saving soldiers’ lives—they were living like soldiers themselves.

They stitched up wounds under field conditions, stabilized the dying for evacuation, ran Sadbhavana medical and veterinary camps, and treated villagers who forget to bathe for months. Some later served in 92 Base Hospital, pulling patients straight out from the jaws of death. And what did they get in return? Long, grinding tenures. Some spent even three and half years straight in field areas, juggling three Commanding Officers, waiting endlessly for leave that had to be cleared by Division HQ.

But despite it all—they smiled. They didn’t quit. They became more soldier than soldier. That grit… that persistence… it rubs off on everyone. Today the MNS officers and Nursing Assistants emulate them and  walk taller, work sharper. The entire Army Medical Corps became professional to the core.”

The intern frowned. “Sir, wasn’t it always like this?”

“No, no. In the seventies, when I was a kid, the scene was different. Doctors were good at their jobs but many carried their egos on their noses. MNS officers shouted down corridors, and Nursing Assistants often mistreated jawans. Things have changed because this generation of AMC officers went through fire.”

Just then, a shiver ran down my spine—the anaesthesia was wearing off. The monitor beeped wildly, and suddenly a heavy blanket was thrown over me. A warm air blower’s pipe slipped inside, filling the cocoon with heat. Slowly, comfort returned. Like the warmth of resting my head in my mother’s lap.

Fifteen minutes later, the intern returned. “Sir, are you alright?”

“Yes,” I smiled.

“But sir, you only told me one reason. What was the second?”

“Ah, the second reason… I developed my kidney stone pain in Canada. Went to ‘Urgent Care.’ They made me wait three hours before a General Physician saw me. CT scan after five hours. Diagnosis was fine, but they gave me pain killer after five hours of agony. I was supposed to see a specialist. Who would be available after a week or ten days. I cut my trip short—I couldn’t live with that uncertainty.

Here in India? Within one hour of meeting the doctor, the treatment began. Son, that’s the second reason. East or West… India is the Best.”

And with that, I whispered, “Thank you AMC.”