The General Who Shaped a Young Officer , A Soldier’s Lesson in Leadership

 The General Who Shaped a Young Officer , A Soldier’s Lesson

in Leadership

A decorated paratrooper and Maha Vir Chakra awardee, Maj Gen Kulwant Singh

Pannu,MVC led 23 Infantry Division in Dipatoli (Ranchi) with soldierly instincts and a

leadership style that left a lasting imprint on a young officer at the start of his career.

Some commanders lead formations; a rare few quietly shape the officers who serve

under them.

By Col Guljit Singh Chadha (Retd)

When I reported to my first unit in 23 Infantry Division at Dipatoli, Ranchi, in late

November 1984, the city was still recovering from the disturbances due to riots that had

shaken it weeks earlier. For many residents of Ranchi, the sight of soldiers from the

Cockerel Division moving through the city had become a reassuring reminder that the

Army stood ready to restore order in uncertain times.

Fresh from the Young Officers’ course at the EME School in Baroda, I arrived as a newly

commissioned officer eager to learn the craft of soldiering, and soon discovered that the

character of the formation bore the unmistakable imprint of its General Officer

Commanding, Maj Gen Kulwant Singh Pannu, MVC.

Known in Army circles as the “Cockerel Division”, the formation carried a proud

soldiering tradition. It did not take long for a young officer to realise that its ethos

reflected the leadership of the man commanding it. The division’s formation sign , a

fighting cockerel , symbolised alertness and fighting spirit, qualities that seemed entirely

in keeping with the ethos General Pannu expected from his officers and men.

A paratrooper by training, he had earned the Maha Vir Chakra for conspicuous gallantry

during the 1971 Bangladesh operations a rare distinction in the Indian Army. As

Commanding Officer of 2 PARA, he led the historic Tangail airborne assault on 11

December 1971, capturing the Poongli Bridge and helping cut off Pakistani forces

retreating towards Dhaka.

At that stage in one’s career, a young officer observes senior commanders mostly from a

distance. Yet certain impressions endure. Looking back today, after decades in uniform, I

realise how much what I saw in General Pannu during those early months quietly shaped

my own understanding of leadership.

General Pannu believed leadership required both trust and practical understanding of the

lives officers and soldiers lived. At the time, official military vehicles were normally

driven by authorised drivers, with officers seated beside them and family members at the

rear ,often inconvenient for officers’ wives. General Pannu quietly issued a written

instruction allowing officers to drive their official vehicles themselves, enabling their

spouses to sit comfortably in the front passenger seat. The order carried a characteristic

rider: it could be “torn after reading.”

His approach to inspections was equally revealing. Instead of encouraging the familiar

“choona–geru” culture , the cosmetic polishing often associated with inspections , he

insisted on professional candour. When visiting a unit, he would first meet the

Commanding Officer informally. By then he already knew the unit’s achievements and

shortcomings through independent staff reports. Rather than reprimanding the CO, he

would discuss matters candidly and offer support to address deficiencies.

What mattered to him was not freshly painted kerbstones but the real indicators of

military effectiveness , equipment upkeep, operational readiness and the morale of the

troops. During visits he would often walk unannounced to the JCOs’ Mess or the unit

langar, share a drink or conversation with Junior Commissioned Officers and soldiers,

and hear things first-hand. At the time, these seemed like simple aspects of divisional life.

Only later, with experience in uniform, did I realize that they reflected a commander’s

deliberate effort to build trust and professional pride across the formation.

A paratrooper at heart, he believed officers must remain soldiers first and administrators

later. Physical fitness and field skills were non-negotiable. He organised demanding night

navigation exercises, culminating in shooting competitions at short ranges. Officers also

participated in spirited boxing and water-polo tournaments, building camaraderie and

physical endurance.

What impressed young officers most was that the General lived by the standards he

expected. Despite late-night mess gatherings that were part of Army life, he was regularly

seen on the squash court each morning, followed by a swim before arriving in office.

Even at headquarters he preferred personal engagement. At the daily 11 o’clock tea

break, he would walk into the tea room and speak informally with staff officers,

practising what management thinkers today call management by walking around.

Like many great commanders, he also possessed a mischievous sense of humour. One

New Year’s Eve he declared that the celebrations would end only when the Cockerel

Division’s rooster crowed at dawn. When the rooster stubbornly refused to oblige, an

enterprising Signals officer eventually solved the problem with a recorded cock-crow,

much to the General’s amusement.

To a young lieutenant then, these were simply memorable moments. Looking back today,

after decades in uniform, they reveal something deeper: a commander who understood

soldiers, valued professionalism and led by personal example.

In hindsight, it seemed clear that the instincts of an airborne commander , forged during

the Tangail operation of 1971 , continued to shape the way he led a division years later.

For me, General Pannu was more than the GOC of the formation where my career began.

He was the kind of soldier-leader who demonstrated that true command is not exercised

from behind files but earned in the field , among the soldiers who place their trust in

their leader.

More than four decades later, that lesson remains as relevant as ever.