Here's a retelling of the story:
During a visit to Milan, Italy, a Sikh gentleman named Kulveer Singh was approached by an Italian man who asked if he was a Sikh. When Kulveer confirmed that he was, the Italian began to share a story passed down from his grandfather, who had served in Mussolini’s army during World War II.
The Italian recounted how his grandfather spoke of their initial successes in Eastern Africa against the British forces. However, their fortunes changed when the British brought in a regiment of Sikh soldiers. These fierce warriors, with their terrifying war cries, struck fear into the hearts of the Italian soldiers.
The Sikhs fought with relentless determination. They began with artillery, followed by gunfire, then bayonets, and when those were gone, they used knives and even their bare hands. The Italian army was ultimately overwhelmed by the Sikhs’ ferocity and tenacity.
The Italian’s grandfather was captured by the Sikh regiment and became a prisoner of war. Despite their fierce reputation on the battlefield, the Sikhs were compassionate and generous in the camps. They shared their limited food and water, often going hungry themselves to ensure the prisoners were taken care of. The grandfather was deeply moved by the respect and kindness shown by the Sikhs, describing them as unparalleled in their humanity and benevolence.
This story left a lasting impression on the Italian man, who shared it with Kulveer Singh, highlighting the unique and admirable qualities of the Sikh soldiers his grandfather had encountered during the war.
Lt Gen Arjun Khanna
My maternal cousin, Lieutenant Arjun Khanna, was within striking distance of Lahore in 1965 when the ceasefire was suddenly declared. His troops had moved from Kutch to the Lahore sector near the Ichhogil Canal, and for his gallantry in Kutch, he was awarded the Vir Chakra.
After the war, young Lieutenant Arjun Khanna while on his way to join his troops, stayed overnight at his Dadi Ji’s house in Jangpura Extension, New Delhi, where I was also living with my Nani Ji in the same room. He recounted how, during the conflict, bullets whizzed past both his shoulders, and it was only by chance and God's grace that he survived, while his colleague fell victim. That memory still haunts me today—a stark reminder of the cruel realities of war.
