The unforgettable P Hill

COL MAHESH CHADHA

It was our first day at the OTS (now OTA), Chennai. Also, it was the birthday of Mahatma Gandhi, the father of our nation, and Lal Bahadur Shastri, one of our most erudite Prime Ministers, small in size but huge in status. We, the greenhorns, were taken around for academy orientation, where we would be honed from boys to officers and gentlemen.  A senior cadet, showing the exuberance and confidence of being the boss, drew generously on his vocabulary to rebuke us for our lazy running, calling us lame ducks, freeloaders, burden on earth and what not. In the area spread over 

5 km, we were shown the squad posts under huge banyan/ tamarind trees, drill square, firing range, classrooms and amphitheatre. From the PT ground, he took us up the nearby hill. “This is the P Hill where stands the sacred St Thomas Church, as such the address of the OTS — St Thomas Mount which you should never forget in your life,” he said.

Giving us a two-minute breather, he asked us to inhale the fresh air, whistling through the neatly spread rows of casuarina mangroves, and enjoy the scenery around, comprising Khajjis and thorny bushes and the Adyar river flowing silently with little water in it. But almost invariably, it would be in full spate when we were out for field craft, map reading, night navigation or a tactical exercise. Right below, there was a short range and in the east the administrative block, where the defaulters would be marched up to the Commandant for a downgrade to the junior batch. The senior cadet advised us not to commit any un-officer like acts such as improper haircut, late for parade, soiled uniform, malingering, not switching off lights at night at the given time or, worst, going out without permission or returning late from liberty, etc.

As he brought us to order again to resume running, some among us sheepishly beseeched him to allow them to pay obeisance at the church. The senior retorted, “Don’t be impatient, this is where you would be praying most of the time for salvation from the rigours of Army training.” And how correct he was! We soon realised that ‘P’ of the P Hill meant punishment, and both drill and PT ustads would start our lessons with a warming-up session comprising at least two rounds of the ground and running up and down the mount in the least possible time set by them. If you fail to make it in the given time, you needed to do it all over again. Even the WT (weapon training) ustad did not spare us when we missed the target.

The P Hill appeared pleasant and beautiful on the eve of our passing out in August, 1967. Wearing company coloured vests, we performed PT exercises in its foreground, holding 10-foot-long ballies and torches, culminating into a pyramid. The memories of all those front/back rolls and murga positions receded into some deep recesses of our memory. Next day, we were commissioned as officers, starting our long and successful careers. We would not have been as battle-ready if not for our strenuous training and those repeated runs to Saint Thomas, up and down the P Hill. 

Jai Hind OTS!