Taking Chance
0300hrs, some 70 nautical miles into the Arabian Sea, absolute pitch darkness with no moon and a sprinkling of stars in the nightsky. It starts getting windy with the unmistakeable smell of petrichor in the air. The clouds give way, and it starts pouring - it's raining sideways thanks to the wind. The door to the DG Room is ajar, the panel starts getting wet, the power trips, the DG activates, short circuit and BOOM the DG Room is on fire ! While the fire safety-trained personnel on the rig scamper to get the fire extinguishers to douse the fire, I rush down to the accommodation to alert the people asleep and get them out. Both my junior colleagues are fast asleep on their top bunks. I pull them out, tell them to put on their coveralls immediately, grab their lifejackets and get to the muster point immediately. We reach the first muster point, right below the helideck and notice the massive orangeish yellow aura of an inferno. I rush my juniors to move to the main deck immediately. As we stand there getting drenched in the rain watching the fire blazing - it's now spread to the radio room - we collectively pray - "Let all of us survive this. Give us one more chance to meet our loved ones." Fortune smiled on us that night and we survived.
I am flown back to the base after getting into a row with my immediate managers for not reporting the incident although I had conveyed it immediately to them. Tempers fray, egos are ruffled, as the country HSE manager investigates the lapse in reporting. I, thoroughly disillusioned and disgusted, step out of a series of meetings, meet my closest friend and colleague and head to the smoking area
A very flippant comment made by a highly emotional 27-year-old idealistic me, who'd just discovered the company he'd passionately worked for, that preached high morals and ethics was nothing but a money-churning corporate that groomed line managers that would rather let their people burn than speak, and if required confront, their customer to ensure their people's safety.
Flippant the comment might have been, but it was firmly grounded in the unshakeable belief that the Army cares for its fallen ones, that each individual soldier, irrespective of their rank or standing, matters and that the Army shall leave no stone unturned to return the mortal remains of a soldier to his/her loved one.
Taking Chance traces the journey of Lt Col Michael Strobl, brilliantly portrayed by Kevin Bacon, the volunteer military escort officer as he accompanies the mortal remains of PFC Chance Phelps back to his hometown. From the opening scene, the movie holds your attention and keeps you glued as Lt Col Michael Strobl, a high ranking officer and an atypical volunteer escort, traverses both the distance to PFC Phelps' hometown and his own emotions. The movie is riveting and gut-wrenching and some scenes leave you gasping for breath.
As a kid I'd look forward to travelling to Amma's best friend, Usha Aunty's house near ECIL X Roads. It was a long bus journey, so the trips would be done few and far in between. But the best part of the journey was driving through the Secunderabad Cantonment area. Normal hustle bustle of society would end as the Cantonment area began and every nook and cranny would scream discipline, dignity and perfection. As I'd peer over and crane my neck out of the APSRTC 37SN bus window I'd see jawans doing drills, officers in their kickass uniforms and gypsies, jeeps and massive vans carrying uniformed personnel perhaps to their barracks - the stuff of dreams, more than enough to inspire patriotic fervour in a young, impressionable kid.
Over the years, I've watched many movies inspired by the actions and the lifestyle of the men and women of the Armed Forces, both Indian and international. Gallantry, courage, honour, valour, sacrifice - these are words synonymous with the Armed Forces. Taking Chance was a different experience altogether. Most movies showcase gallant soldiers dying on the front, then cut to the funeral proceeding where families and friends mourn, their passing is then celebrated - the utmost sacrifice in sevice of their country. The actual process of a fallen soldier making it to his/her funeral I'd never seen in a movie and I am confident will never get to see done as well as it's been done in Taking Chance.
The body bag being received, the muddied and bloodied personal particulars removed, cleaned and carefully stored, the body itself being cleaned. A close-up shot of the dirt-laden fingernails being cleaned and gently placed back into position. The uniform being meticulously stitched for the fallen soldier. There is this one scene where Lt Col Strobl upon reaching the funeral home states that he'd like to check the uniform on PFC Phelps. The funeral home director reminds him that it is going to be a closed casket funeral, not-so-subtly reminding that the remains are not view-worthy. Lt Col Strobl, nonetheless, opens the casket and we see the camera pan gradually upwards showing this pristinely made uniform. As it approaches the chest it slows down and lingers and the scene cuts off to Lt Col Strobl tearing up, tears streaming down his face - this scene I will never be able to unsee in my lifetime.
Another scene that hits really hard is when a conflicted Lt Col Strobl is conversing with the Korean War Veteran Charlie Fitts as PFC Phelps' platoon-mate takes his leave after a get-together at a local bar where they reminisce joyfully and then sorrowfully about PFC Phelps, his antics and his innate valor.
Lt Col Mike Strobly - "I stayed home. I was trained to fight. If I'm not over there, what am I? Those guys, guys like Chance... they're Marines."
Charlie Fitts - "And you think you're not? Want to be with your family every night - you think you have to justify that? You'd better stop right there, sir. You've brought Chance home. You're his witness now. Without a witness, they just disappear."
Without a witness, they just disappear.
That single line exposed the inherently flawed assumption in my erstwhile flippant comment that had hitherto never dawned on me until I watched this movie and heard this line.
What about the ones that are irretrievable, whose mortal remains cannot be salvaged, who have no remains, who pass on and are lost forever to oblivion with nay but the unshakeable conviction that their dying breath is in the service of their nation ? What about their families - people who have lived in eternal hope and prayed that their loved one, deployed in hostile territories, be safe and shall return to them ? While the majority of the world moves on in pursuit of their daily routines, bickering and whining about relative non-issues and taking up cudgels about the word "compromise" , there is an entire set of people that are carrying on, with smiles on their faces - courageously, hopefully and with unflinching optimistism - some on the frontier, and their others perpetually-in-waiting - the living, breathing embodiments of the word "sacrifice".
Kevin Bacon is a spectacular actor, and he's been one for decades. He's also the inspiration behind Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon or Bacon's Law - a Hollywood take on Six Degrees of Separation - a concept that states that any two people on the planet are six or fewer acquaintance links apart. Everything is hunky-dory as long as any sort of distress is more than 2 degrees of separation apart, it's only when they start creeping into the inner degrees that we become more and more cognizant, sympathy makes way to empathy.
All of us know some Army folk.
A friend's dad's brother was a Brigadier.
Another friend's wife's brother is a Major.
Bhandaphod, Mumma ChocoLuva and Monsieur DaBomb are one single degree of separation from me. Admittedly, I am yet to meet Monsieur DaBomb but I get to hear of him as if he were right next to me and I know my words reach him as he guards our country's Northernmost frontier. These are people I laugh with, watch movies with, play pool and tennis with, break bread with, make wine with, and as I watched Taking Chance alone I could not help but feel my chest swell with pride and trepidation. Pride at being able to bear witness and associate with their inherent army-ness, and trepidation stemming from the fact that I care for them and wish them nothing but the best. Taking Chance left me further in their awe, inspired and with a renewed respect for the Armed Forces and everyone associated with it. My daily mundane existence is all due credit to your selflessness and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for it, and within me you have a willing acquaintance that'd be there for you should the need arise. Salaries and materialism can't draw one to Armed Forces, only unquestionable patriotism and a selfless willingness to protect the country and its interests can, only a select few have the chutzpah to be part of the Armed Forces, the rest of us mere mortals including moi are honoured to just share space with you.
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