War Journey

Part III

by Maveeran Captain Malaravan, 1990. Translated from the Tamil by N. Malathy. E-book posted on TamilNation.

Part 1

7. A Black Tiger attack

The camp surroundings were captured by our poralis around 4.00am after very heavy fighting. Despite their exhaustion and thirst they were all busy building security positions ready for the aerial attacks that would come with the dawn.

Everyone was fuly occupied as they hurriedly dug trenches and put sand bags up. There was no compulsion from outside for them to work like this. They all worked of their own will. The enemy fire tried in vein to disrupt their work.

People of Tamileelam ought to reflect on this situation. When we request for assistance from our people to build bunkers or dug trenches many parents will not send their children. Following battles they will mul over the newspaper reports, express their opinion, and within minutes return to their own selfish lives.

They fail to empathize with the young poralis, the same age as their children, battling without food or water. They imagine that the weapons are fighting the battles on their own. They do not see that in the battle ground the hearts and minds of the poralis are also fighting. The attitude of some parents saddens and disappoints us and can even get to the point where it affects our resolve.

The preparation for the Mankulam, and other, battles is exhausting and can take days. Most of the work must be done at night. We have to setup new machine-gun positions without the enemy noticing. The sandbags and wood must be carried staying low on the ground or even by crawling on our knees. It is hard work. Next day we will be so stiff we will have trouble walking straight. Yet, we do it all again on the next day too. Our eyes will be heavy due to the lack of sleep, yet the enemy targets must be located during daylight. Hunger while awake at nights is not new even to the civilians. The cold frosty nights will soak us. Our throats will be dry and lips cracked and painful. It is no trivial thing to wage battles under such conditions and then start building security positions before dawn without even a drink of water.

Poralis increase their mental strength through these experiences. These hardships do not affect our conviction. But when we meet an unpatriotic civilian our hearts become heavy. On the other hand when we meet patriotic civilians, the strength of the porali’s conviction surpasses iron will and the yearning for freedom burns within us even more intensely.

Morning 5.00am. Two planes and two helicopters began circling the camp. Poralis did not succeed in completing the bunkers in one hour although they tried hard. Water kept springing from the ground since it was after heavy rain. Sandbags were also soaked with water. Then the enemy started concurrent aerial and land attacks.

The nun’s hostel and temple came under intense bombardment. We struggled to cope. We were forced to retreat when the attacks from land started. One of the positions we retreated from was the temple area.

They started to mend the security post that they had captured from us. This reconstruction activity foreboded danger to us. We realized that when the enemy re-launches attacks from the rebuilt positions we will have to lose many more of our poralis to recapture them. There was also the psychological boost the enemy would get by reconstructing his security posts that we had destroyed. We therefore launched a very risky and daring operation that was unexpected by the enemy by moving forward through the open fields in broad daylight.

For a moment the enemy was disoriented by the unexpected sudden attack. He soon realized that he is facing the final blow to his station. He began firing at us moving through the open space. Bombers dropped bombs like rain.

One of the richest granaries of Tamileelam, the rice fields of Mankulam, rather than being covered by fresh green crops was covered by our fallen porali and their fresh blood. Even in their final moments the poralis enriched the land they loved. These young poralis who longed to breathe the free air and put down their own footprints on their homeland, now dissolved into the breeze over the fields. His friends who were with them, who were reborn in the same training camps, who laughed and played together, continued to move forward towards the enemy. These brave fallen heroes even in their death did not find a human hand to comfort them. They are the saints who gave up the joys of youth for the freedom they so dearly loved.

The enemy, unable to cope with the losses, began to give up the security posts one by one. We recaptured each one. In that sweet afternoon, at 4.00pm, we captured the post near the temple on the Electricity road. The unceasing poralis confidently consumed the gentle breeze as food. The enemy was now restricted to his main camp. We could see very clearly that he was now unsteady.

It is times like this that we request our people to give us dry food. If we are to move into the camps that we captured at night we can do so only in the morning. When our people happily give us dry food with the feeling that it is for “our boys”, the food tastes delicious. It gives us a refreshing energy. When we eat we see the smiling faces of the mothers whom we have met during our struggle. It gives us a deep soul satisfaction.

The 23rd evening melted away, longing for something. The sun was boiling red. There were no sweet songs of the birds. Even though they are keeping away today, tomorrow they will sing welcoming morning melodies. It will gently stroke the headstones of the saintly souls. Today it disappeared past the forest. The night blanket fell over everything.

24 November

We left Kanagarayankulam at 6.00am to launch our attack, with fewer cannons than we used yesterday. People were waiting for us in large numbers at the junction. They stopped us and gave us snacks and wished us well. As our vehicle started to move, the porali at the back shouted something. We stopped the vehicle and looked behind. A grand old lady in pure white saree was walking hurriedly towards us. She was holding a homemade bag. We all got off and ran towards her.

“What is the mater grandma?”

“I was walking. When I saw you leaving I had to run. All of you come here”.

She took out the holy ash wrapped in a leaf from her bag and put on our foreheads and gave us all a kiss on our cheeks. Holy ash is a significant religious symbolism among Hindu Tamils. Although LTTE is a secular movement the people use their own rituals to show their love and respect to the poralis. Our tiredness after the battle, all feelings of ill health, and the grief of loosing fellow poralis all disappeared in that moment. Our heavy hearts melted at her touch.

“You must fight well and come back victorious. I will be waiting in that hut”.

The words came from a mother from Tamileelam in a voice that broke as she spoke. We all felt that we are blessed to have received these words.

“We will for sure kill them all and capture our land” a porali said with obvious emotion.

She took sweet rice from her bag and put some in each of our mouths. It gave us new energy.

This patriotic mother has given us a kind of joy that we would not get from great victories on the battle ground. She stood there watching us disappear. Tears slid down my cheek. We will not stop on our path as long as there are mothers like this. Master sitting next to me stared in her direction. I could notice the joy in his face too. He hummed a tune the words of which were, “we are going towards the enemy camp”.

We saw red dots passing us in a line. “Buddy stop, the helicopters are firing”.

The vehicle lights were switched off and it was stopped under a tree. The helicopter went round and kept firing. Red bullets struck the tar road and re-bounded. We all got into the water canal running along the side of the road.

“He is only ploughing the road” someone said.

Again bullets hit the road in a line. We could work out from the noise that two bullets hit our tractor and the cannon.

There was an Sssss noise.

“All take cover. He has fired 5 inch calibers”. Two shells exploded in the rice fields nearby. Time was 7.3 5pm.

“We can’t wait anymore. Let him keep firing. Ithayan take the tractor”.

When the order was given, without hesitation, Ithayan ran towards the tractor. All the rest of us started running on both sides of the road. Helicopter chased us firing all the time.

“He is flying over our head. He could drop something big anytime. Watch out”.

As the words were completed shells started coming and exploded just a hundred meters behind us on the road. We kept running exploiting the explosion as cover. The helicopter came back over the centre of the road. In high alert we took cover and 50 calibre shells potted the road with big holes. We could see Ithayan turning towards the security post. We ran through the rice fields, bushes, open spaces and past the railway tracks. Helicopters continued to chase us. Suddenly a roaring noise came from a helicopter. Two rockets fired and hit a tree and exploded it to pieces. I heard a groan from Master but he kept running.

I could not ask Master what had happened, the shells kept coming. I reached Master and saw a piece lodged in his arm. I pulled it out and applied pressure bandage. We were now at our post.

Time was exactly 8.02pm. We began emptying our cannon. The enemy responded with his bullets. The intensity of the enemy’s reaction was much diminished compared to the previous day. He used his ammunition sparingly. Helicopters and aerial bombers, however, gave us more trouble today than yesterday. Our main targets today were his main camp and the rice-warehouse camp. We escaped very narrowly today. One of his bombs fell just ten meters away from us but it failed to explode. The enemy was unlucky there. We removed the unexploded bomb and left it in a place where it would not be triggered by our own cannon fire and we built a secure post around it. As we did this, helicopters kept firing trying to finish us off.

On this day, two of our poralis were injured in the enemy RPG fire. We handed both of them to our medical poralis and hurried on with our attacks.

25 November

Time was 12.45am. We sent our final shell towards the main camp. Two bombers were still circling above us.

Time was 12.59am. Our leader ordered us to silence our cannons and take cover. A large truck making loud noises drove through the enemy security posts on the road.

“All of you jump away and watch the truck” I shouted and took cover.

There was an immense light for a second. The wind convulsed and then pushed everything. The noise, the indescribable noise, split the ear drums. The forest trees then shook once and slowly calmed down. Animals stood still in a state of shock. Sulphur smoke blocked our noses.

A hero, a Black Tiger, made history. Bork annai!!

I remembered meeting Bork annai four days ago. He was lying on an easy-chair. He had just returned from a stay at his home with snacks for us. He was smiling.

“Do your shells make loud noises? I won’t come anywhere near them” he acted as if he was scared.

How would he have bid farewell to his mother. My heart choked as I remembered the lines from Tagore’s poem.

“Mother, it is for you. The time has come for me to go. Farewell mother. When you stretch out your arms, in the quite darkness of dawn, thinking that your baby who slept next to you is there, I will no longer be there. When you are lying without sleep, I will be among the stars telling you to go to sleep. When the lightening flash passes through your open window, my laughter will come with it. I will come to your bedside with the moonlight and rest my head. I will come as gentle waves of wind and embrace you. I will enter through your eyelids as a dream and go to the depth of your sleep. When you wake up I will turn into a tiny light and disappear into the darkness. When neighbourhood children are playing in our house, I will come with the music of the flute and fill your heart. When aunty next door comes and ask you for your baby, tell her that your baby is in your eyes and he fills your entire being.”

Would Bork have said all this to his mother?

8. Onward journey

The night was coming to an end.

Our divisions entered the enemy camps and launched attacks. We moved cautiously because there were no counter attacks. We saw the bodies of enemy soldiers scattered. Some of the buildings were on fire.

By 3.00am the enemy camps had been put through a thorough search. Weapons and bodies were scattered everywhere. We collected the weapons. It seemed that the enemy had abandoned the camp and withdrawn into the forest along the Luxapana electricity cable towers line. He had moved towards their other camp on the hill. We decided not to folow him immediately as it was still dark.

The next morning we learnt via our walkie-talkie that our poralis had intercepted the withdrawing enemy soldiers near Kanakarayankulam and were atacking them. We could see two helicopters circling that part of the forest.

At 6.15am we were on our way to the enemy camps to conduct recovery operations. We were moving along the main road on the Vavuniya side. We kept to the road because the enemy had planted landmines all along the side of the road. Once we moved past our own security post into the area that had been in the enemy’s hands until now, we all sensed the excitement springing within us. The buildings, mango orchards, coconut estates, all of these were getting nearer to us. Until now we watched them by hiding behind trees and walls, and longed to possess them. Now they are ours. We could not resist running towards them.

Destroyed and burning enemy posts welcomed us. A large tree destroyed by our shells had fallen across the road and was blocking the road. The occasional fire was roaring. I peeped into one burnt down post. Bodies of three enemy soldiers had burnt completely down to their skeletons. The T-58 guns had also burnt leaving only the iron parts.

“You left me behind!” Master came running excitedly towards us.

“We called you but you have gone somewhere to eat”, said Alahu. Master let out a barrage of accusations at Alahu.

“Come here. This is the post we destroyed day before yesterday”. He came running to see.

“Look, the rifles have all burnt. Bring me a stick and let us see if we can recover any of them”.

“It is useless. The barrels are all bent from the heat” I said as I picked one and dropped it on the ground.

“Look there” Master pointed to the enemy’s possessions, his bags, hats, and the clothes drying on the line.

“It looks like quite a number was stationed here. Let’s go behind the shop and look at the well”.

“Buddy! ! !”.

I saw the bodies of our poralis. Two bodies one dragging the other was there. Tears swelled in my eyes. Master was staring at the bodies.

“They must have died day before yesterday”.

“Yes, he has come right inside to rescue the other”.

We told the others over the walkie-talkie and went closer to look. Master also came.

The first porali had taken the blast on his chest and stomach. The one who had come to rescue him had a hole on the left side of his forehead.

“Buddy, do not move the bodies in a haste. They may have placed a release switch under the bodies”.

Bombs can be triggered by a release switch, placed under a heavy object which will trigger when the object is removed.

We carefully inspected the two bodies and then lifted them and placed them inside the shop. We observed several stab wounds on their bodies that were made with the knife on the gun.

“See what they have done to the bodies of our poralis. They have showed their brutality”. Master stared at the bodies. His anger was very visible.

The stomach of the porali with gun shot wound on his forehead has been ripped in a crisscross pattern. The body of the other porali had enormous number of holes all over his body.

Even if the clashes on battle ground are intense no soldier will harm the dead body of the soldier from the enemy side. It is considered the duty of the battling sides to bury the bodies of enemy soldiers with respect. This custom has existed throughout the ages and throughout the world.

Sinhala chauvinist do not practice this. They rip into the dead bodies of poralis when they are faced with losses or defeat. It is not hard to imagine the cruelty let lose by this same Sinhala chauvinists when they enter areas of civilian population. They are unable to release themselves from this mindset.

In this respect they are very different from the poralis. Poralis are created among the oppressed when the oppressor’s tactics become too brutal. None of the oppressors learn this truth till the end. Even if they do they behave as if they do not know this truth. They still manage to get some satisfaction by ripping apart the dead bodies of poralis.

We covered the bodies of the poralis and went towards the well. The clothes on the line were scattered. Many of the clothes had blood splatered on them. We went to the well which was big in diameter. The side walls of the well were not high enough and it looked dangerous. We passed the well and entered the mango orchard. A huge amount of mangoes had fallen on the ground. Some of the mango trees were broken too.

“Leo, look at this machine”.

“Oh, they must have used it while withdrawing”. I pointed to the security wall made of railway line planks.

Since they were protecting the 50 calibre fire the bushes in front were brunt. This mark stretched all way to the enemy post on the hill.

“Look at these blood stained clothes”. “Look, there is a lot there”.

“Quite a few have been injured or killed”

We collected the scattered bullets into a pile. Grenades, guns and shells too were to be found in large numbers. We put them all in one place. We placed those ammunitions that appeared unsafe under a tree and placed a warning near it.

The enemy does not really care much about his weapons. There were large numbers of many types of ammunition buried in the sand from places from which he had withdrawn. Poralis struggled to collect them. Still, they put a lot of effort to dig them out carefully. They moved huge broken pilars in order to reach the ammunition underneath. These are poralis who had not eaten since noon yesterday, who had been waging intense battles all night.

I would like tell our people something about this. The enemy is stronger than us in numbers and weaponry. Our strength is in our determination, belief in our goal, and our love for the land and our people. This is the protective armour we wear as we entered through open space without cover, into the enemy camps, camps that are well equipped with weaponry. Our people must keep this in mind. Also, all the ammunition and weapons we capture from the enemy we will use to attack him tomorrow. Think about it. Each bullet we collect will be used to reduce his numbers tomorrow. Think about the poralis who died trying to recover the enemy’s weapons. This is why we work hard to collect the ammunition. Through it, we become stronger.

“Master, come let’s go to the big camp”.

As we walked along the road I was reminiscing about my younger days here and I said this to Master.

“What happened then?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing happened. During the ‘83, ‘84 time, we built a new home in Mannankulam. In those days, the Mulaithivu bus would stop at the junction. After getting off there none of the buses going past Mannankulam will pick us up because they are all long distance buses. So we had to walk home from the junction. Some times a lorry would pick us up. It is mostly my mother and me who will be walking. One day, two boys were coming towards us on a bicycle. Two army men came out. We were just ten meters away from them. The army men did not even ask the two boys to stop. They just kicked the boy who was doing the cycling and both boys fell down. They beat the boys brutally with their guns and then the boys were dragged into the camp. The two boys were screaming in pain. We ran away without looking behind”.

“What happened then?”

“We do not know. Someone said that their bodies were left in the hospital by the army saying they were killed by the elephants in the forest.”

“Military Camp – Mankulam”, the blood stained name board written in Sinhala stood on top of the cement wall. This is the place where those fanatics tortured the people. This is the same place where the people were unable to move around freely. Today the place is breathing the air of freedom. We stepped into the main camp area and walked along the paved path into the building. Symbols of occupation were scattered all over.

In the front building there were a lot of tables and chairs, all broken. The next room had a big refrigerator with holes all through it. The roof tiles and sheets were in pieces. The next room had many spring beds and matresses. They all had blood stains.

We entered a huge room. The room was filed with food items. Cheese tins, tin milk, canned fish, milk powder, flour, rice, tea and many other kinds of food filed the room. I couldn’t help but compare the frugal life of the poralis and the life of comfort of the military soldier. There is indeed no comparison between a young Tiger walking over stones and thorns in the forest and the military soldier enjoying a life of comfort.

Mounds of cigarettes packets and buts were seen in many places. They were soaked in the rain and gave out an offensive smell. Pornographic posters covered the walls. This is the camp of the Sri Lankan army. How can one expect discipline amongst them? It appears that they actually prefer indiscipline.

The kitchen walls were blackened with smoke. Rice, lentils and soy meat in three huge pots were sitting on the fireplace. It must have been cooked yesterday. It had started to go bad and was giving a bad smell. Master stirred the pots with the big wooden spoon and followed us.

Through the banana plantation the temple walls and the inn could be seen. We quickly studied the police station buildings and the other buildings and went into the nun’s hostel. The walls were further protected on the inside with stacks of sandbags. A lot of clothing soaked in blood lay all over.

“Come, let’s go and see where the Black Tiger exploded”.

Both of us went. In the ground, past the entrance to the main camp, close to the centre of the camp, was a massive hole.

The hole told a story about Bork annai who made history in the blink of the eyes. We stood silently for a moment.

Our motherland must rejoice for giving birth to souls who were ready to turn their lives into weapons to free her. The Tamil youth, those of Bork annai’s age, must reflect on the nature of his love for the freedom of his homeland. Only when they reflect on this will, his dream be carried forward and fulfiled.

We again walked along the main road and arrived at Mankulam junction. We stood there and looked around.

“Master, look from here at the camp. How beautiful those big trees look. All this time this land was occupied and now it is ours”.

“How many more places are there like this? Look at the damage done by the bombers”.

As Master pointed we saw the only remaining two storey building. The shops near were completely destroyed and it looked like graveyard. The railway station, too, looked distressing with the roof broken.

“Come on, let’s look at the temple and the inn before we leave”.

We walked fast along the Mulaithivu road. On one side we saw the shops all destroyed. On the other side were military posts and small houses. Then one side opened into vast paddy fields. On the other side were the same symbols of occupation, the sandbags; all ripped apart.

The roadside had blood spots here and there. They must be from our poralis. These poralis entered the open space using only their bodies as cover.

As we looked at the open paddy fields, our hearts filed with sorrow. Our poralis moved forward through this field. Oh, our Thileepan annai, Pirapa annai and Gopu and others would have lost their lives in this field.

“They are great souls” said Master, his voice breaking with emotion.

“They gave us victory. Yet, it is not easy to bear their loss”.

I changed the subject. “Look at the temple and inn. It is completely destroyed.”

We walked past the inn and entered the temple. As I looked at the desecrated temple I had a strange feeling. When I was a child, this temple was the site of frequent caste clashes, between people that wanted to stop some castes from entering the temple. These people insisted that allowing all castes to come will desecrate the temple environs. Now this same temple stood desecrated in the worst possible manner. None of the devotees who wanted to prevent other castes from entering the temple raised their voices against the worst form of desecration. Only the poralis acted against it.

News that the enemy had withdrawn into the forest spread like wildfire among the people. They gathered around in groups discussing it. Many civilians carrying their guns were out in the forest. We went and stayed in a village called Puthuvilankulam. We stayed in five homes in smaller groups.

Master, Ithayan, Alahu, me and six others stayed in the home of an old man.

We ate the lunch given to us with much love and slept well. We woke up only at 7.30 at night. We drank the tea that was given to us and gathered at the front porch and sat with the old man as we waited for dinner. We have always enjoyed discussing issues with the older people and listening to their stories. I started the conversation.

“Have you been living here for long?”

“My father and mother started living here soon after they were married. They lived near the Nagathambiran temple in Puthur. I was born there. When I was about 20 years old, I got forest land from the State and cleared it and then received my deed of ownership for the land. When I married I lived here and my children were born here”.

“So how old are you now?”

“Maybe 75. I was born in 1914, so you can work it out”. “How many children do you have?”

“My eldest is a girl. She is living with her family in Kanagarayankulam. Next is a boy. He was in some movement called PLOTE and he was shot and killed during the Indian Army time. Next is my youngest boy. He has gone to the fields to spray the plants. He will be here any minute now”.

“Do you own a lot of land?” inquired Master.

“No, no. I have twenty five acres. The paddy field and vegetable plots are all part of it. This house is also part of it. These low caste felows have ruined it all. I have now given it all up. Once a year I will give a big feast to the people; that is all.

Now all castes are earning money going overseas. Why should they respect people like me without much money?”

“All are humans. Why divide them by caste?” I said interested to hear his reply.

“The status of caste cannot be earned otherwise” he replied. I realized that it was pointless continuing with this topic with him.

“Iya, are you not going to send your youngest son overseas? They can earn a lot overseas” Master asked him.

“Humph. Do you call that earning? There is so much fertile land in our homeland. There is plenty of water in the tanks. Why should you leave all this and go somewhere else? Neither I nor my son has considered it, even in our dreams. We can just eat Kanchi and watch this forest, land and the temple and die here. I will never leave my land because of fear”.

One thing came out clearly in the discussion with the old man. He would support our armed freedom struggle in anyway he could. He finds the idea of leaving the land and wasting its resources repulsive. He stands firm on this. Yet, he is not able to give up some of his traditional views on society. This is where the younger generation needs to change. The younger generation today has the responsibility to guide their parents. Even if a few are unable to change, the young ones must change in readiness for our new nation.

Look at the community in China. If one million students demonstrated in Tianamen Square demanding democratic rights, they certainly did not do so with the permission of their parents. If these students can organize such a massive protest, why cannot the younger generation, with the help of poralis, take up progressive actions to change society? When the entire Tamil nation, under a single leadership, steps out with one goal, that day of freedom will be commemorated as our fallen heroes’ day. Before we reach that point, let us destroy the backward ideas in the society and develop our human and natural resources to improve our economic status.

“Iya, tell us about your fields and horticulture”. “Talking about it is the same as talking about my life”.

“Good, we can learn about both at the same time” I encouraged him.

“Wait thambi. This boy has misplaced my tobacco leaves” he said and entered the room in his humble mud cotage.

A young man walked in from outside, gave us a friendly smile and entered the cotage, calling out “Appa”.

“Where did you put my tobacco leaves boy?”

A little later the old man came out and sat down with a home roled cigar in his mouth.

“Like the cigar?” said Master.

“Oh! do you really?” said the old man in a warning tone because poralis are not permitted to smoke. The old man was happy to have two sets of ears wiling to listen to his old stories.

“When I was about twenty or twenty five, a white man came and expanded and renovated this tank. It used to hold a lot of water then. They said that if anyone is wiling to clear the forest and cultivate it for five years they will give the ownership deed for the land. None of our people were wiling”.

“Why not? It is fertile land isn’t it?”

“You can say that now. Then it was elephant’s domain. There were very few people around here. Even the white man would not come without his gun”.

“Then how could you …?”

“Wait” said the old man as he puffed on his cigar.

“My mother and father were adamant that I should not do it. But I was keen. I went to the white man and somehow managed to get hold of a gun. My father was hopping mad when he found out. He shouted saying I have no right to bring a gun inside the house. I was persistent. I found a piece of forest land that would receive plenty of water and cleared the forest. Every year the crop would do well but when it is nearly ready the animals would come and destroy it all”.

“Did you not get fed up?”

“No, I persisted. I cultivated the land every year and slowly started to save some money. Then I got married” he puffed his cigar. “It was only later that other people came. They were all emboldened by my presence”.

We were all enjoying the self flattering tales of the old man.

“One night- my hut was then located on that raised bit of land there - Velan, my neighbour, came running and screaming. He said four or five elephants had come into his fields and they were refusing to move despite his gun fire. He pleaded with me to come.

“I cursed for the bother but I went. There were several elephants. I was slightly drunk. I could not see well. One elephant blew hard and the gush of wind threw me back. I landed on my hand and dislocated it. When I turned to look five or six pairs of eyes were staring at me. I was not steady enough to run. I fired with one hand, all the while lying on the ground. All the elephants started running. Next day people said that they saw one dead elephant lying in the forest. White men and Sinhalese came and shook my hand. Those were the days”.

“So you are a great hunter?”

“Of course, if I shoot, I never miss. I was a great hunter. Later there were children and now I live like this”.

As the old man puffed at his cigar we suddenly heard continuous gun fire. We quickly readied ourselves, put some of the poralis on guard around the cannon and left with fifteen poralis on a tractor. We made contact through the walkie-talkie and parked the tractor one kilometre from the location of the fire and started to run in formation.

When we told the others that we are coming, we learnt that the clashes were taking place under the command of Mathavan annai.

We were about to proceed in the dark from Puthuvilankulam into the forest, in the wrong direction, when a voice from behind stopped us.

“Wait, I will also come with you. Where do you want to go, tell me?”

Only when he came very close I realized that he was the youngest son of the old man. He was holding a hunting gun.

“Oh, it is you” he said. “You were all at the teacher’s house. You all left suddenly without telling me. I came running with the gun and ten cartridges without even putting on a shirt. Where should we go?”

We told him the spot and the direction in which we are to attack. He led us saying he will show us the way. As I followed him, others came behind us in a formation. We were struggling to keep up with him. He was walking very fast at the same time making way by breaking tree branches and bushes. We were compelled to run to keep up with him. He stopped for a moment and pulled something from his foot and continued walking.

“Annai, did you come without even wearing sandals?” I asked.

“Oh, we are used to it” he said.

He kept his gun above his head while walking and moved it constantly to keep it away from the bushes and branches. When we reached the spot, I told the poralis to take position and then asked Mathavan on the walkie-talkie for a run down of the situation. He described the strengths and weakness of the enemy’s situation at that moment. I gave orders to the poralis and we advanced through the darkness.

Suddenly dark clouds gathered and within a few seconds, there was strong wind and heavy rain. The noise prevented us from accurately gauging the situation. Even though we were now walking along the railway track, we had trouble seeing anything.

Despite the setback caused by the heavy rain, we walked fast and continued through to Kanagarayankulam junction. As we reached the junction the rain had eased somewhat. People had gathered outside in large numbers. News and rumours about the military escaping into the forest was spreading quickly among the people.

Majority of the men among them were carrying hunting guns and shot guns. Suddenly there was some excitement. People were gathering around two men who had just arrived on a bicycle. The two men were talking loudly. People were firing questions at the two men. One man started reciting the story.

“You know the surroundings of the Kanagarayankulam fields, the open space. One girl who stepped outside her home was shot by three army men who were hiding there”.

“Is she dead?”

“No, no, the bullet hit her leg. We all chased the army felows when we heard the gunfire. They tried to hide in the bushes. We rounded up the area and shot into the area twice. They came out with raised hands saying in Sinhalese that they are surrendering. Arasu annai spoke to them. But our people were careless. They were not alert and the three ran away after pushing over the two people who were watching them”.

“Oh no. You should have been more careful” said one man.

Most of the people listening to the story were very disappointed. They were also discussing another story of a woman who captured two army men hiding under a bridge.

We walked along with a smile on our face.

“Master, what do you think of our people?” I asked.

“Looks as if they will beat the hell out of them if they get the chance” laughed Master.

“What else do you expect? What do we know about what these people were put through by the army for years?” I said.

An old man with a cigar in his mouth and a shotgun over his shoulder cycled passed.

“Now the people come out and talk excitedly after we chased the army from the camp. Why don’t they come out sooner and join us in the battle?” I asked

“Only now people have the determination to get rid of the Mankulam camp. Times are changing. If this atitude stays on, it will be great” replied Master.

Time was 6.1 5pm. We have forgoten about the lunch. A man coming towards us fast on a bicycle suddenly applied brakes and stopped a few meters past us.

“Thambi, thambi” he called urgently and we ran to him.

“There is a shop at the turn there. I saw a man there running into the house near it. I heard a woman screaming and also someone talking in Sinhalese. It must be the army. People are saying that some army men were seen around here in the afternoon”.

“We must get at least one of them, run fast” Master shouted at the top of his voice.

As we neared the house we broke up into two groups. We made one group surround the area in a wide circle to stop anyone trying to escape. The other group moved forward towards the house. When we neared the house and took position we heard talking. We could hear some Sinhala conversation in between. Once we surrounded the house I hid behind a flowering bush and listened carefully.

“Our father gave you all the dowry you deserved. How dare you come now to our father’s funeral and demand the thali around our mother’s neck” shouted a male voice.

Another male voice spoke in broken Tamil with a Sinhala accent. “She was wrong to ask for it brother-in-law. Please do not be angry”.

“Who are you to touch me you Sinhala bastard. Let go of me” the first man shouted in a drunken voice.

A woman’s voice shouted now cursing.

I gave the signal to the rest and we withdrew quietly from the scene.

Master with his gun in ready position queried, “What happened? Couldn’t you catch anyone?”

We gathered everyone hiding in readiness behind bushes and told them what was going on in the house. We all had a good laugh. But they were all mildly annoyed that their time was wasted like this.

We continued with our move. It was getting dark and we moved cautiously. Monkeys and other animals suddenly jumped in front of us, delaying our journey.

When we reached Puthuvilankulam time was 9.45 pm. We had not eaten anything since morning. People gave us Idiyappam and meat curry. We rested after the meal.

26 November

At 9.00am in the morning we stationed one group to keep watch and the rest went to the lake for a bath.

As we had already planned, we divided into two groups and entered the lake. We spent more time having water fights than bathing and made a huge racket. We got out and dried ourselves. I had just finished putting my dry, clean clothes when I suddenly found myself in the lake again. Master and Alahu, standing with their hands on their hips, were laughing.

After lunch we went to the forest and picked some wood apples and made a spicy mixture with coconut and chilies. We had a competition to see who could eat the most.

We chatted with the people. They all seemed very excited. One man said, “Tomorrow Balraj annai is going to raise the Tiger flag in Mankulam camp. Today you can all sleep happily”.

We all slept well. 27 November

We started early the next morning, on two tractors, towards the Mankulam camp. This camp, that flew the flag of occupation and from which untold brutalities were committed, today appeared totally destroyed.

Oh, the Maveerar! You stood with us shoulder to shoulder and shared our burdens. You entered the minds and bodies and indeed every cel of the enemy and petrified them. You bravely entered the open fields to destroy the enemy hiding in his camp. Knowing well that your life will end in a few seconds you turned your bodies into weapons as Black Tigers.

You move in grand procession in the breeze that embraces Mankulam. They meet at the gentle running waters. They smile in the soft noises made by the forest trees. They come down as rain drops and kiss this land. They come with the soft rays of the moon to embrace us. They enter our hearts through the dancing peacocks and the songs of the Mina.

This land soaked in their blood will be enriched.

They are the guards of our borders. They will be born again and again through Mother Tamil. The sun will no longer burn us. In the movement of their lips, in the words they speak, in their eyes, the poralis will keep Maveerar living. For the freedom that will come, they will train the new generation. They are the suns that never set.

The villages, paddy fields and lanes in which they played will never forget them.

They are the life behind all of nature’s actions.

As we drove away, we watched the destroyed camp for a final moment as it disappeared behind us.

As our tractors with the cannons moved towards Jaffna town we turned backed and waved. Our eyes watered. The white clouds on the blue sky moved in the opposite direction.

The buildings of Kokkavil started to appear in the distance. A soft voice sang in my ears.

The clouds in the sky will sing.

It will utter the names of the Maveerar. River of tears will flow from our eyes.

Here ends my memories of the Mankulam attack. My heart is already starting to fill with the memories of the Silavaththai attack.

(Before he could start writing about his experience in the Silavaththai attack, Captain Malaravan became a Maveerar on 23 November 1992 during the attack on the Palaly camp East.)

Glossary

Description of terms

Porali (plural – poralis) is someone waging a struggle against injustice; commonly used in contemporary Tamil community in the island to refer to members of LTTE.

Names of poralis appearing frequently

Other Tamil cultural and nature terms

 Sinhala cultural terms

Baila - a popular form of song and dance among Sinhalese.

Military terms