The Perilous Patrol

An Account of the 2nd Punjab Regiment in Italy

“So, doing the only thing possible, the Punjabis charged with the bayonet.”

The Indian 10th Army in Italy, circa mid-1944. Photograph NA 17069. Image courtesy of the Imperial War Museum.

Buried deep within crinkled onionskin pages bound in a folder marked at the British national archives is an otherwise ordinary report.

The typewritten record, just a few pages in length, recounts a patrol conducted late in the Italian campaign by Punjab members of the 10th Indian Division, one of three Indian Army divisions that fought for the Allies during World War II.

Patrol report located in WO 204/7223 at the National Archives in London, England.

As the report goes, in the pre-dawn darkness on February 21, 1945 a six-man fighting patrol prepared to slip through friendly lines, enter enemy territory, capture an unsuspecting prisoner, and return to base.

Easy, right?

The small group was led by Lance naik (L/Nk) Ajaib Khan, an Indian soldier holding the equivalent rank of lance corporal who, like most infantrymen who went on a combat patrol during World War II, likely felt intense fear and uncertainty before departing.

Though it does not say so in the report, Khan’s team would have studied their objective in great detail leading up to the patrol. Their destination was a set of German outposts on the Sillaro Ridge perched high in Italy’s imperious Northern Apennines, a jagged mountain range rimming the southern perimeter of the Po River Valley.

The Sillaro Valley descending toward the Po River Valley. This terrain would have been typical of the 10th Indian Division’s mountainous sector in early 1945. Photo by Tiziano Rossano Mainieri Soggetto (Wikipedia).

Geography goes unmentioned, but it almost certainly affected the patrol’s conduct. Because Italy’s rugged terrain inhibited most mechanized operations, the war in Italy was, by and large, an infantry battle. Operating in all-weather conditions at high elevation, infantrymen on both sides made regular forays onto local ridges to gather intelligence, direct fire, observe enemy movements, and prevent unexpected enemy attacks.

Operating in the dark of night, winter temperatures worked for and against Khan’s patrol: Working up a sweat during the silent climb up onto the ridge, they invariably sat shivering when finally in position awaiting the signal to advance.

The group, approaching unseen to within fifty yards of their objective, huddled behind a haystack. Even in the darkness they could see three enemy dugouts interlinked within a fifteen yard area.

Khan’s training took over. He divided his team into three groups of two, assigning each one a slit trench. Slowly, silently, the pairs crawled forward. Then, in tandem, they struck.

Khan bayonetted an unsuspecting sentry in the first trench, completely surprising his colleague who immediately surrendered. The second group killed both of their trench’s occupants. The third took a final guard prisoner.

No amount of training could prepare soldiers for the overwhelming randomness of frontline patrolling. Prisoners in hand, Khan’s team prepared to return home. This time, however, the prisoners refused to play ball. After covering 100 yards, the Germans simply laid down. They would go no further.

Whatever degree of irritation Khan’s soldiers may have expressed is lost to history. We only know that they were forced to tie up their captives and physically carry them back to friendly lines.

As if things weren’t already hard enough, when Khan’s team was within 250 yards of his unit’s forward positions, a dozen enemy soldiers emerged from the low ground near an adjacent road, took up positions, and opened fire.

What would you do?

Khan didn’t take long to make his decision. Realizing the severity of the situation, he ordered his patrol to shoot the two prisoners, collect their jackets to submit as evidence, and leg it home.

Only they couldn’t get home; by that time, the enemy had closed in, sealing off their avenue of escape. With the situation deteriorating, Khan was left with another tough decision.

“So,” the report continues, “doing the only thing possible, the Punjabis charged with the bayonet.”

If there is one truism about the Indian Army during World War II, their courage was never in doubt.

Only a third of Khan’s patrol returned unscathed. One died; three others sustained injuries. While we know one of the injured soldiers returned safe with his two unharmed comrades, the record is unclear what happened to the others.

We do know the German coats never made it back. They were left behind in the fracas, along with a German Luger in the pocket of the fallen Indian soldier discovered by his friends the next day.

I’m always amazed that countless experiences like this one unfolded throughout the Italian campaign — to say nothing of the entire war itself. Though the overwhelming majority of combat patrols were routine and unremarkable, they all served unique purposes.

As popular histories continue to emphasize big-picture strategy, operations, and momentum-swinging turning points, they often smooth over the complex tactical existence of combat infantryman who lived the war one day at a time.

With the passing of the World War II generation, barring records preserved in archives and attics around the world, accounts of combat patrols like these are otherwise lost to history.

Note: The patrol report is located in WO 204/7223 at the National Archives in London, England.