What happened on 7 November and what I saw

7 November 1975. It was around midnight. I was awakened by the sounds of gunfire and cries of “Zindabad” (Long Live!) all around. Startled, I jumped out of bed. Everyone in the house was terrified. I went and stood on the back veranda, from where the main road of the cantonment was visible. There were numerous vehicles filled with soldiers. They were the ones making all the noise. As they continued moving forward, I saw several tanks speeding southward at full throttle.

Tracer rounds fired from anti-aircraft guns in the direction of Tejgaon Airport were turning the southern sky crimson. I could not understand what had suddenly happened. I remembered the leaflets distributed that evening and the rumours I had heard.

For a moment, I thought that perhaps fighting had broken out between the units involved in the 15 August coup and those supporting Khaled Mosharraf. If that was indeed the case, then the civil war that had been feared over the past few days in this newly independent country might have just begun.

On the floor below mine lived Lieutenant Colonel Mashahad Chowdhury, commander of the anti-aircraft unit, one battery of which had been stationed at Tejgaon Airport to block access to the airport. They called us downstairs and took us into their living room. He then told me a great deal about what was happening. He explained how one battery of his unit had been taken to the airport and deployed without his orders. He also told me many things about the leaflets circulated the previous day.

Even then, we could not quite grasp what was actually unfolding outside. By the time I finished talking with him, it was almost morning. The sounds of gunfire continued throughout the night. Amid it all, the call to prayer could be heard.

As the eastern sky began to grow somewhat brighter, I quickly put on my uniform and decided to walk towards Brigade Headquarters with my neighbour, Major Harun (later Colonel, retired). Since Harun was serving as a staff officer at Station Headquarters, he too decided to walk there. So the two of us set out together.

As soon as we reached the main road, we came across two officers we knew. One was Major Mashuk Ahmed Chowdhury (later Brigadier, now retired), and the other was Lieutenant Colonel Sharif, a director in the Adjutant General’s Branch at Army Headquarters. He was a batchmate of both Shafiullah and Zia. The two were riding the same motorcycle. Mashuk was in uniform, while Lieutenant Colonel Sharif was still wearing the clothes he had on during the night.

Seeing us, they said that General Ziaur Rahman had just been released from captivity and taken to the 2 Field Regiment. They told us to go there, adding that other officers were also present. They had no time to say anything more, and we could barely hear them over the surrounding noise.

A military truck packed with soldiers and a number of civilian youths sped past us from the opposite direction, firing shots and chanting slogans. I had never heard these slogans before. The moment I heard them, my blood ran cold. They were chanting:

“Sepoys and sepoys, brothers all, We want the officers’ blood!”

“Long live the Sepoy Revolution! Long live General Zia!”

After hearing these slogans, Harun and I quickened our pace. Two more trucks sped past us along the way. Sitting atop them were military personnel accompanied by several armed civilian youths. I later learned that these civilian youths were members of the Gono Bahini, trained by Colonel Taher. Even then, I had no idea whose revolution this was or what kind of revolution was underway.

I also noticed one or two young officers among these revolutionary soldiers. They had no rank insignia on their shoulders. When I called one of them over and asked him about it, he replied: “Sir, from today onward, there will be no distinction in rank between sepoys and officers. There will be no hierarchy in the armed forces. That is the central principle of this revolution.”

I was utterly stunned. Could it be that Colonel Taher’s Biplobi Sainik Sangstha (Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation) had staged the revolution? Was this perhaps the beginning of Taher’s class struggle and an initial attempt to seize state power as the first step towards achieving it?

Several more jeeps sped past us. By then, there was little left to doubt. Members of the JSD’s Gono Bahini, who had been trained for class struggle, were now inside the cantonment alongside the soldiers.

We walked quickly and reached the main gate of the Second Field Regiment. The first person I met there was the unit’s Subedar Major Anis (later Honorary Captain). As soon as he saw me, Anis embraced me and said, “Sir, by the grace of Allah, we have found you. There is nobody at the brigade. No one can be found anywhere. Zia shaheb is looking for you all.”

He briefly explained that after the “Sepoy Revolution” began around midnight, the guards from the First Bengal Regiment had been removed. In the morning, Major Mohiuddin (later Lieutenant Colonel), along with other soldiers from this very regiment, had brought Zia to their unit. At that moment, Zia was in the commanding officer’s office. Several other officers were with him, as was Brigadier Mir Shawkat Ali, commander of the 55 Brigade in Jessore.

That day, the Second Field Regiment became the centre of power in Bangladesh—not merely within the armed forces, but in the country as a whole. It is worth remembering that the Second Field Regiment was one of the two units that participated in the August 15 coup under Rashid’s leadership.

When we arrived at the Second Field Regiment, I found only about 10 to 15 officers there. The scenes unfolding there from one moment to the next gave me the impression that the army had never existed as an institution in Bangladesh. It seemed that no one had any authority there, nor had anyone ever exercised any.

In the unit quarter guard, where military prisoners were held, I saw several familiar officers confined in the cells. Among them was Lieutenant Colonel Bahar. I could never have imagined witnessing a senior freedom fighter officer being held in a quarter guard cell in this manner. It was an unprecedented sight.

When I asked Subedar Major Anis about the circumstances, the gist of his explanation was that the revolutionary soldiers, angered by the conduct of certain officers, had drawn up a list of their names. They then went from house to house, attacking them. Upon hearing of these attacks, the frightened officers began fleeing, leaving their families behind. Those who were found were brought into protective custody to save their lives from attacks by the frenzied soldiers.

Subedar Major Anis could not say exactly who had ordered that these officers be taken into this protective custody. However, regarding Lieutenant Colonel Bahar, he explained that Bahar had actively participated in the operation against Zia in his capacity as commander of Army Signals and had grievances on other matters as well. When the revolutionary soldiers began pursuing him, Bahar himself had asked Anis to shelter him in the quarter guard.

Having grasped the underlying significance of Anis's account, I made my way calmly into the commanding officer's office. As I entered, I saw Major General Ziaur Rahman seated in the commanding officer's chair. Beside him was Brigadier Mir Shawkat Ali, dressed in a safari suit.

After entering, I saluted Zia. He told me, “Go to the brigade. Take control of the soldiers there. I spoke to your commander (Shafayat Jamil) a little while ago; he is doing well. Amin has been appointed the new commander.”

As I left the office after hearing what he had to say, I ran into AJM. Aminul Haque. He advised me to remain there for some time, observe everything, and assess the situation before proceeding to the brigade. He further explained that, since none of the other brigade staff officers could be found and he himself was new to the position, he could not leave his unit, the Fourth Bengal, under the circumstances. Therefore, I would have to take charge of all the responsibilities on my own.

When he asked me to take over the duties of BM (Brigade Major) in place of Hafiz, I assured him that I would look after things there. He also informed me that neither Brigade Major Hafiz nor Staff Captain Taj could be found anywhere in the cantonment.

As soon as Ziaur Rahman arrived at the Second Field Regiment, he asked for Khaled Mosharraf at Bangabhaban. However, unable to find him, he managed to get in touch with Shafayat Jamil instead. As soon as news of the Sepoy Revolution reached them, Khaled Mosharraf, Huda and Haider had left Bangabhaban together. Consequently, Zia eventually contacted Shafayat Jamil.

When Ziaur Rahman met Shafayat Jamil, he told him, “Forget and forgive. You come back.”

In response, Shafayat Jamil said something along the lines of, “I am a rebel and will remain so.”

Shafayat Jamil has himself recorded in his book what else he told Ziaur Rahman. He writes, “You cannot stage a revolt through the soldiers and expect to remain in power. You have mounted a tiger's back, and you will not be able to get off. Whatever you wanted to do, you could have done it with the officers. Why involve the soldiers?”

He also expressed his deep resentment over the introduction of a politics of hatred and division within the army.

He further stated that someone had been eavesdropping on his conversation with Zia and translating it into English. Shafayat had overheard the translation because of a crossed telephone connection. At the time, while Shafayat Jamil was speaking to Zia from inside Bangabhaban, he may not have realised that the force behind the coup was not Zia but Taher, his “Gono Bahini” (People’s Army), and the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation—at least at that stage of events.

When Shafayat Jamil was informed around midnight about the revolution that had taken place inside the cantonment, he still had no clear understanding of the actual situation. By the time he learned what was really happening, it was already too late. After Khaled Mosharraf left Bangabhaban, Shafayat Jamil realised that he was the only one left behind there.

At around the early hours of dawn, he received a telephone call from Ziaur Rahman and learned that some revolutionary soldiers had arrived at the main gate of Bangabhaban looking for them. Deeply alarmed, he handed the car keys to the driver and attempted to escape by climbing over the rear wall of Bangabhaban. In doing so, he broke one of his legs.

He and Major Didar Ataur, the Fourth Bengal company commander stationed at Bangabhaban, travelled together in a car along the Dhaka–Chittagong Highway as far as the Meghna ferry terminal. By then, Shafayat Jamil could no longer continue because of his broken leg.

As fate would have it, they encountered the Sub-Divisional Officer (SDO) of Narayanganj there (Narayanganj was a subdivision at the time). The SDO was about to depart for Narayanganj by launch. Didar Ataur and Shafayat Jamil introduced themselves and explained that Jamil urgently needed medical attention. The SDO then took them aboard his launch.

After Shafayat Jamil received initial medical treatment, the SDO handed him and his companion over to the Bandar Police Station. It was from there that, on the morning of November 7, Shafayat Jamil spoke to General Ziaur Rahman over the telephone. A few days later, he was admitted to CMH (Combined Military Hospital) for specialised medical treatment. Until the last day of his life, he walked with a slight limp because of his broken leg.

Standing on the veranda of the Second Field Regiment, I saw Colonel Taher enter Ziaur Rahman’s room, surrounded by several soldiers and members of the Gono Bahini. Among his companions were also a few members of the Second Field Regiment. Initially, Taher and Zia embraced. As soon as the embrace ended, Taher asked Ziaur Rahman to go to the radio station and address the nation.

However, even before Taher arrived, Ziaur Rahman, while seated at the Second Field Regiment, had already recorded his address on the advice of other officers and sent the recording to the radio station for broadcast.

Later, Taher presented Zia with a list of demands on behalf of the soldiers. Zia said he would consider the matter at a later time and kept the list. Taher was evidently not particularly pleased with Zia’s response. After speaking privately with Zia for a while, he left the office in an agitated state.

Although the details of what Taher and Zia discussed that day are not known, some information was available from unverified sources. However, from the very beginning of the Sepoy Revolution, Radio Bangladesh (the renamed Bangladesh Betar) remained under the control of the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation and the JSD’s Gono Bahini for an extended period. Zia was prevented from going there in person to deliver his address.

This was done because Taher had wanted from the very beginning to use Zia entirely to serve his own political objectives. Taher wanted to take Zia to the radio station so that he could announce the soldiers’ demands and declare what the future structure or political framework of the state would look like.

According to further accounts from various unverified sources, Taher’s plan was to take Zia from the radio station to the Shaheed Minar and have him address the members of the Gono Bahini and the revolutionary soldiers there. The revolutionary soldiers allegedly planned to shoot and kill Zia on his way back. During the brief period when Mir Shawkat Ali served as Chief of General Staff (CGS), he had reportedly made statements to this effect.

The following day, November 8, Ziaur Rahman returned to Army Headquarters in his capacity as Chief of Army Staff. Brigadier Mir Shawkat Ali was appointed CGS in place of Khaled Mosharraf.

That very morning, I heard that four officers had been killed by the soldiers.

Among them, a female doctor named Hamida and a dental surgeon named Karim were killed purely out of personal animosity. Two other officers, who were undergoing training at the Bangladesh hockey camp—Captain Anwar and Lieutenant Mostafiz—were chased towards the television station and killed there.

The ordinary soldiers who had spontaneously joined the so-called Sepoy-People’s Revolution of 7 November were also beginning to become disillusioned. Gradually, rank-and-file soldiers began distancing themselves from the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation. Those who had chanted “Sepoys and sepoys, brothers all” on November 7 and 8 were increasingly becoming directionless in the absence of effective leadership.

It is worth noting that most members of the killer group Colonel Taher had formed within the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation were soldiers from various service corps of the army and the Air Force. Dhaka had four infantry battalions under the 46 Brigade. Apart from the battalion stationed at Sher-e-Bangla Nagar, another newly formed battalion also refrained from joining the activities of the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation on 7 and 8 November.

Under these circumstances, Zia began to realise that Taher had been defeated this time. Gradually, almost the entire armed forces—including commanders, officers and soldiers both inside and outside Dhaka—began looking to Zia for leadership and direction. Overall, the country was passing through an extremely precarious situation.

Beginning on 8 November, Ziaur Rahman wasted no time. Moving almost at breakneck speed, he toured the entire cantonment, meeting and speaking with soldiers. At various gatherings, he repeatedly emphasised the need to restore the army's chain of command. Later that afternoon, he summoned the soldiers of Dhaka Cantonment near the Fourth Bengal Regiment's barracks and spoke to them.

Remarkably, on that day, there were only about 40 to 50 officers in the entire Dhaka Cantonment. Apart from those 40 to 50 officers, everyone else in the cantonment was armed.

In a firm voice, Ziaur Rahman ordered the soldiers to surrender their weapons and return to their respective barracks. He further announced that he would accept their legitimate demands and that, after giving the matter due consideration as soon as possible, he would inform them of his decisions at the appropriate time. He made this announcement on behalf of the government, although Justice Abu Sadat Mohammad Sayem had, at that point, been asked to continue serving as President.

While Zia was speaking at the gathering about restoring discipline among the soldiers and surrendering their weapons, one soldier accidentally shot and killed himself with his own rifle. Following Zia’s speech, the soldiers agreed to surrender their weapons.

Later that afternoon, when the weapons were being surrendered, a number of soldiers who were ardent admirers of Colonel (Retd.) Taher and staunch followers of his Soldiers’ Organisation began spreading inflammatory propaganda against Zia. That evening, some members of the organisation dragged three innocent officers out of the Ordnance Mess and killed them right in front of the mess.

It was 8 November. At around 9 pm, I was sitting at Brigade Headquarters when a signal operator from the brigade came and informed me that the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation had once again drawn up a list of several officers marked for elimination that night.

The essence of what he reported was this: unless all the soldiers’ demands were met, the struggle would continue. He further informed me that only a handful of soldiers were involved in the killing of officers, particularly some members of the Signals, Lancers and military clerical corps who supported the soldiers organisation. The activities of the Revolutionary Soldiers’ Organisation were largely concentrated among these groups.

Had Taher’s plan succeeded, the army’s command structure would have collapsed that very night or within the following few days, and Ziaur Rahman would have been assassinated before state power was seized. Taher had won over ordinary soldiers by promising to secure their various demands. He would cite examples of what he described as the feudalistic behaviour and practices of military officers to his supporters.

It appears that, after dismantling the army’s structure through such propaganda, as they had planned, they would have launched similar attacks on the civilian bureaucracy. This would have plunged the country into a state of extreme chaos, putting its sovereignty and independence at risk.

In fact, Taher was an exceptionally self-confident and highly ambitious man. As soon as Ziaur Rahman understood the extent of Taher’s ambitions, he began distancing himself from him and swiftly took steps to bring the soldiers back under discipline. Owing to Ziaur Rahman’s popularity, personality, courage and prompt decision-making, the entire situation came under his control within a day or two.

* Brigadier General (Retd.) M Sakhawat Hossain is a former adviser to the caretaker government. He served as an Election Commissioner from 2007 to 2012.

* Translated for Prothom Alo English by Ayesha Kabir