The War Booties of 1971

--Ziauddin Choudhury

The war of liberation of Bangladesh lasted less than nine months, but for those who were impacted by the devastation it caused to lives and property, each month counted as a year. From its beginning in March 26 to December 16 when it ended each Month brought to the people of Bangladesh (then East Pakistan) sufferings of a differing kind. The first three months were spent by the Army in consolidating its hold over the country; the next three months were spent in spreading canards and lies about the mass killing and atrocities to hoodwink international outrage, and the last three in defending itself from attacks by freedom fighters and the eventual war with the joint forces. Each period brought distinct characteristics of torture, mayhem, and devastation for the people of Bangladesh. From March to May 1971 the Military went on a rampage to regain control over most of the districts and subdivisions that had offered resistance by the receding Bengali forces (Army, EPR, and students). Pakistan Army had fanned out in all directions coming out of the cantonments in different areas of then East PakistanDhaka, Comilla, Chittagong, Jessore, Rangpur, etc. The main goals of the Army were to reestablish central government authority by any means that included indiscriminate killing, burning of houses, and mass arrests of civilians including local government officials suspected of supporting the non-cooperation movement launched by Sheikh Mujib in March. Civilian population in the district and sub divisional towns responded to this onslaught by fleeing to the villages, which the Army would spare in most cases unless these were in accessible range. In most towns the Army arrived after meeting any resistance like victors, and behaved just as an occupying force would do. Typically after the Army arrived in a district or sub divisional headquarter the soldiers would travel down the main streets in trucks, lob incendiary bombs into neighborhoods randomly to intimidate and clear the area of suspected miscreants, and end up in the local stadium or high school ground to camp. The Officer in command would then summon the principal civilian government officer (Deputy Commissioner or Sub-divisional Officer, as the case may be), and either give him instructions on what to do next or arrest the official in case the city had resisted the army (and was naive to remain in the city). (In many towns the civilian officials, particularly those in charge of administration, escaped army wrath by leaving their posts and later escaping to India.) As a sub divisional officer much of that period of mayhem in two sub divisions of then Dhaka district (Munshiganj and Manikganj) I had the misfortune of witnessing how the Pakistan Army behaved as an occupying force. Terrorizing the areas with fire power, large scale arrests of suspected miscreants and their overnight disposal were the more brutal aspects of this occupation. However, the other practice they adopted was reward of the common soldiers by allowing them to help themselves to whatever they could land their hands on after reaching a town. In the name of saving property from the hands of the rebel elements, the army would enter into premises of Banks, government buildings, and residences of wealthy people. Items looted were mostly cash from Banks, valuables such as jewelry from private residences. Other items that were not easily moveable were set on fire. In Narayanganj, where my

parents lived, our house was raided, looted, and our furniture that could not be taken out was set on fire. (My parents with three of my younger siblings were able to escape the town before the Army arrived, and seek shelter in Munshiganj where I was working as Sub Divisional Officer.) However, the happiness of the booty sharing soldiers, and their officers did not last long. They had stashed away bundles of high denomination currencies in their backpacks in the hope that very soon they would be able to transport their cash loads home. What they did not know that the government was already facing the issue of emptying of many district treasuries by the retreating rebel army and civilian officials and carrying the currency notes across the border. Within a couple of months, the amount of currency looted from branches of the State Bank of Pakistan became so large that the Government of Pakistan was forced to take dramatic steps to ensure the stability of their currency. The Government demonetized all the 100- and 500-rupee notes circulating in Pakistan. As the majority of looted money was in these denominations, the notes held by the looters would become totally worthless. I witnessed the effect of this demonetization on the plunders of an Army Battalion that was in charge of Munshiganj subdivision. The Army had come to Munshiganj in May, after initial Army rage and violence had somewhat subsided in much of the country. This Battalion had earlier ravaged Brahmanbaria and Chandpur subdivisions of Comilla district. In Munshiganj the Army was not chasing any rebels; it was there mostly to make a presence, and to carry out an investigation of my conduct. (This the Pakistan Army did against all Bengali officers who were in charge of Sub Divisions and Districts from March 25. Some were summarily arrested, others were investigated, and either let off or transferred.) As part of this enquiry I had to report to the Battalion Commander every week where I would be subjected to a variety of questions. The week of demonetization of high denomination currencies I was waiting one day in the Battalion Adjutants office for my weekly interview with the Commander. The announcement of demonetization had probably been made the previous day. Suddenly a soldier came running to the Adjutants chamber with a leather bag in hand crying wildly. When the Adjutant asked him why he was making such a hue and cry, the soldier unabashedly opened his bag and revealed stacks of 100- and 500-rupee notes, lamenting loudly what was going to happen to his treasure now that these have been demonetized. Could the Boss do something, he asked, without caring that I was witnessing this drama. The Adjutant shouted back, You fool; you should have converted these two smaller currencies much earlier. I cannot do anything now. Then the Adjutant looked at me, and said without batting an eye lid, You know, these soldiers are poor. They got this in Brahmanbaria. But alas, they cannot enjoy this money now. The Adjutant was no doubt a participant in this war booty, but destiny had a different end in plan. The next phase of rewards or distribution of the war booties would come in a different way. This would be mostly for Army collaborators for their help and support in arrest of people suspected of supporting the liberation efforts, or leading the Army raids into areas of suspected militant activities. The reward was handing away commercial property mostly shops that were abandoned by the minority community in small towns. In majority of the cases the local Army commander simply asked the collaborator to take over the shop, and directed the local administration to look the other way. In some other cases the Army brass would ask the local administration to facilitate the takeover.

During my time in Munshiganj and Manikganj as SDO, I would see two such instances of collaborator reward, one of which ended badly for the beneficiary, and the other actually did not finally materialize. The one that did not finally materialize related to a cinema hall in Munshiganj town (the one and only cinema hall in the town that time), the owner of which was a Hindu businessman. The owner had fled the town for fear of his life, and the cinema hall remained closed since his abrupt departure. In one of my mandatory weekly meetings with the Battalion Commander, the Commander said that he would like me to meet a very close friend of his. I expected another army officer who would assail me with more questions, but instead, a meek looking young man came out from the back of his office. He was a Bengali, and the commander introduced him to me as a very loyal friend of Pakistan. He commended the young man in front of me for having "saved the army" from starvation in March, when civilian barricades were stopping supplies to Dhaka cantonment during the famous non-cooperation movement launched by Sheikh Mujib. He then proceeded to say that for his loyalty and devotion to Pakistan, the army wanted to show this true friend some gratitude. The loyal friend wanted to have lease of the only cinema hall in Munshiganj, and as SDO of Munshiganj I should give it to him. This was a rock and a hard place situation for me. I could not say no to him sitting there right in the army bastion, particularly when I was still being viewed as a suspect (of being on the other side of the fence). I also could not say yes since, as an SDO, I did not have governmental authority over any abandoned property, least of all lease it. When I muttered something to the effect that I did not have proper authority to decide on such business, it was my superiors, the Lt. Colonel would have none of it. He did not care who had the authority; I should see to it that his friend got what he wanted. I could extricate myself that morning from the cantonment only by convincing the commander that it was my boss, the deputy commissioner, who had the authority to lease, and that I would follow it up with him. The follow up never occurred. The loyal friend did not turn up later to pursue this. The businessman that he was, he perhaps himself realized that having the lease of the cinema hall would take him to places that he did not want to visit. Or perhaps, he was amply rewarded with other businesses by a grateful master. The second case was in Manikganj, where I joined in late June after the Army authorities wanted my transfer from Munshiganj. In Manikganj, some minority owned shops that were abandoned by the owners were already given out by the local Army commander (Sub Zonal Martial Law Administrator, as the office was titled) to the loyal friends as rewards, much before my arrival. One of the beneficiaries was also the Chairman of local Peace Committee, who took over a clothing shop. This rogue, who was professionally a Mukhtear (licensed legal practitioner), earned his place with the Army authorities by ratting to the local army commander on local officials, fellow lawyers, other business people of the locality, and of course feeding the commander with stories of conspiracies and hideouts of miscreants. He became further close with the local Commander when he helped the army in the recruitment of a group of Ansars (Para police) in Manikganj to support the Army. However, his run with the Army brass and accumulation of fortune came to a rather unpleasant end when the first batch of the Ansars recruited on his recommendations decamped with rifles. The Mukhtear was suspected by Army

intelligence of actually aiding the other side. He lost his Peace Committee Chair, and subsequently the lease of the shop. These are but a few among hundreds of thousand instances of war booty stories of 1971. The whole country went through wanton aggression, and unparalleled plunder and pillage that the occupying army unleashed over us in the nine-month period. Pity is that in this heinous offense against humanity, some of the participants and collaborators were fellow Bengalis. Some of them may have collaborated out of conviction, but many others did so to profit from the circumstances afforded by time. We cannot make reparations to the victims for the losses in life and property in kind. Many of the victims as well as the perpetrators have been long gone. The War Booties of 1971 have also withered away. But the pains and memory of the loss and outrage will always linger in our mind. This is a part of our history that we should never forget. Ziauddin Choudhury is a former Civil Servant who now works for an International Organization in USA.