This reporter, accompanying the assault team towards Junction Peak, a kilometre away from the Line of Control in Drass, saw young officers -- fresh out of the National Defence Academy -- tie black patkas around their heads as they heaved 20 kg of ammunition and stores onto their shoulders.

In a few days, the Garhwal Rifles have run up 17 dead and 45 wounded. But these figures don't matter as a gentle smile lights up the Lieutenant's face. ``It is our national pride, the izzat of our regiment is at stake,'' he says. ``We have been told to evict the enemy and that we will.'' And as evidence of that spirit, if any were needed, he adds: ``It takes 12 hours to evacuate the wounded.Seven hours for food to come up. In the battle for Point 4700, we went without food and water for 48 hours. Only some cough lozenges to suck on.'' In the same breath, he jokes: ``Now at least we have a stretcher to go down on, and not our poor old legs.''

Up the Tololing nallah, the Garhwalis begin the climb. At 2.30 pm, the first Pakistani shells start to land. This time, there are no bunkers -- like the ones at the Drass Brigade HQs -- to dive into. A rock, the size of a table, rolls down and it's only faith and will power that provide cover.

``The enemy knows that we will be climbing up for the night assault. When the shells start coming, just lie down flat. It will save you from a ground-burst although it isn't as effective against air bursts,'' is the officer's advice to his team. ``Of course, nothing can be done if it falls on your head.''

A lesson in artillery at 15,000 feet. Air bursts are shells which explode 10-15 m in the air and shower the ground below with shrapnel. Ground bursts are shellswhich strike the ground and eject shrapnel as in a fountain. ``If you hear the whistle of the shell, you will be safe,'' adds a jawan for good measure.

By now, as the tip of the Pakistani-held Point 5100 looms into view, the mountains boom with artillery. A team of soliders that had taken seven hours to take up food to their Commanding Officer had been pinned down for three hours by shelling. Such concerns are certainly there but are brushed off by one and all. ``Don't worry,'' says a soldier, ``it's a matter of chance. A shell burst on five soldiers, leaving four dead. The fifth one did not even get a scratch.''

Another invokes faith: ``Remember your mother and Bajrang Bali when a shell lands. These are the only two things you have. Your mother gave birth to you and Bajrang Bali sits in the heavens from where these shells are falling.''

As the climb gets steeper, a 10-minute rest is essential after every 33 steps. Mountain sickness and breathlessness overtake the fear of shelling. Jawans egg you on toclimb as the shelling intensifies.

Meanwhile, they take light-hearted swipes at civilians: ``Now you realise what we face here. Civilians always say we get too many allowances,'' says a jawan. And then the very next minute, he becomes the gracious host: ``Have another glass of water, another puri.''

Jokes flow effortlessly. A water and food team is seen struggling upwards. ``This fellow must have spilt most of the water to avoid lugging up the weight. Poor fellow will pee out all the water into his pants once the CO saheb finds out,'' quips a thirsty jawan.

Ripples of laughter again as one soldier is advised not to eat too much of the `aloo-puri' which the mess havildar has cooked. Says one jawan to another who is waiting for the food: ``You will need to answer nature's call once in two days if you eat four puris. More than that and you will be reduced to a desperate man when you need to concentrate on the shelling.''