I cannot forget the cold, crisp and brilliantly sunlit early morning of May 29, 1999, when I was driven into Bhimbat, just short of Drass town, from Kargil. The morning was almost surreal with sheep wading through the gurgling Sandoh nullah, a stream of Drass river, and with the 4,660 metre coned snow capped peak that became famous as Tiger Hill dominating the Leh-Kargil-Drass-Srinagar national highway 1A.

That day, the ferocity of heavy weapon firing at the now famous Tololing ridge made me run for cover. My fears were confirmed when a 16 Grenadier sentry guarding the 56 Mountain Brigade headquarters asked me to move on as no less than 51 bombs had fallen in the vicinity the night before. A sweeping glance of the surrounding glaciated peaks revealed that Pakistani intruders were virtually sitting on top of the highway and had come deep into Indian territory in the Drass sector.

Before I moved to the safer confines of nearby Matayn, an IAF Chetak helicopter directed coloured artillery shells on a 5,040 metre hill that was contiguous to Tololing ridge. Amidst heavy machine gun firing, the IAF MiG 23 ground attack aircraft dropped 500 pound free-fall bombs on the ridges marked by the artillery shells.

A decade later, today, we celebrate Kargil Diwas as we remember the 527 Indian armed forces personnel who lost their lives and another 1,363 who were wounded in the 45-day conflict. Just like 26/11, the Kargil intrusion was an audacious attack by Pakistani irregulars backed by powerful elements within the Army and the ISI headquarters at Rawalpindi. And just like Mumbai, the Kargil war was marked by brave troopers, poor operational leaders and vacillating political leadership. Yet the patriotic hysteria that swept the country after seeing body bags of the Indian brave ensured that all that was unpalatable was swept under the carpet. On the day when the bravehearts are remembered, one should also give a sobering thought to the lessons learned and subsequently unlearned from Kargil.

... contd.