The Long Road to Vienna
Almost 40 years ago, when we were posted in Iraq, my father ordered a Volkswagen Golf, a car we had until I was around 13 years old. Though the car itself has so many wonderful memories associated with it, it was my dad's journey by land from Iraq to Vienna and back, along with two other Air Force officers and friends, that he would tell us about.. Wing Commander Dhavle (Retd)), who travelled with my dad on that trip, documented that entire journey with all its twists and turns, disasters, comic interludes and more in this piece. This is travel writing of a different sort, a grand road trip covering ten days, through Iraq, Turkey, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Austria and back.
Parvez had all the briefing about this
journey taped up! He almost appeared to know where in Istanbul we were! We got
into a taxi and a short drive took us to the Railway Station on the Bosporus. (I
now know that it is called ‘Sirkesi’ Station – the starting point for Europe
and Paris, for the famed Orient Express.) Sirkesi station was in a remarkable
location. It faced the blue shimmering sparkle of the Bosporus. I had heard of
this, the famed ‘blue waters of the Bosphorus’ and it was indeed so.
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Parvez near the Sea of Marmara, Turkey.
Pic courtesy Wg. Cdr Dhavle
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In 1981 I was the proud owner of an old
Standard Herald car. Those were the years when the Hindustan Ambassador and the
Premier Padmini ruled Indian roads. Any other car had to be an imported one. So
when I saw a VW Golf car in Connaught Place in Delhi it was more-or-less ‘love
at first sight’! The ‘Hatchback’ was also a new concept in automotive design back
then. The Golf looked decidedly odd; yet very attractive. There was something pretty
sharp about the way it was put together and it seemed a good buy. As luck would
have it, my deputation to Iraq came through a few months later, in September
1981.
When we arrived in Iraq the prospects
of actually acquiring the Golf suddenly looked rather daunting. VW didn’t have
any showrooms in Iraq- the nearest one was in Kuwait; a thousand kms away! To
top it all we Helicopter people were based in K-2, furthest away from Baghdad. K-2
was 190 kms up the highway to Mosul, near Baiji. And our airbase was a further
9 kms off the highway in the desert. Baiji itself was a small and dusty
village. There were no tarred roads; a few small shops sold items of daily
needs, and no shopkeeper could speak English. A single petrol pump was located on
the Baghdad-Mosul highway that passed by Baiji. It supplied diesel to the
steady traffic of outsized container trucks heading to various countries in
Europe from the ports of Basra and Kuwait.
The only Golf car that we could
actually see in Iraq then was owned by one of the Indian Instructors in Tikrit -
Sqn. Ldr. Jaswant Singh. His car had been delivered in Wolfsburg in Germany
where the VW factory was located. Those of us interested in his car paid him an
early visit to get briefed. We were 4
from K-2 and there were others from Tikrit as well. Jaswant Singh briefed us on
all aspects of the car. That was all the information available about the Golf in
the absence of a VW showroom!
The car was not cheap- well over US $ 5,000/-
at the then exchange rate for the Iraqi Dinar. Bigger cars were available in
Iraq for a lesser price, though second-hand. Eventually I decided to order the
VW Golf along with some others who were also keen. When we sent a combined
query to Volkswagen they indicated that they would be happy to deliver the cars
in Baghdad against a ‘bulk order’.
By international standards our pay was
quite meagre. It took me 6 months to save for the car before an order could be
placed and the money transferred. Then we got a jolt from VW. They sent a
message that the Iraqi government will not permit them to deliver the cars in
Baghdad since they had business dealings with Israel. This was taboo in Iraq!
So the cars could either be delivered in Kuwait or we would have to take
delivery in Vienna- in Austria.
After pondering over the problem all of
us decided to take delivery of the car in Vienna and the decision was conveyed
to VW. The aim was to take in some sight-seeing in Europe after accepting the
delivery of the car. But as days passed, sober considerations began to prevail.
Susan thought that it was too hectic a plan for our children who were then
quite small - Tali was 7 and Akshay was 5. We eventually decided that I should
go alone, take delivery of the car and return early. Independently, most others
decided likewise.
The delivery date of the car in Vienna was
3rd May, 1982. It would be delivered at an agency named Porsche Wien
Liesing. (Wien – loosely pronounced ‘Weeng’- is what the Austrians call
Vienna). The cheapest way to reach Vienna was to travel by road via Turkey; and
then by train through Bulgaria and Yugoslavia. That entailed Visa formalities-
so I went around visiting the embassies. It turned out I could get a ‘Visa on
entry’ in Yugoslavia and Bulgaria. They shared membership with India of the
Non-Aligned Movement (NAM). That left Austria and Turkey. The Austrian visa was
a breeze when they came to know that the visit was to collect a car in Vienna. I
visited the Turkish embassy last. Their Air Attache’, Col. Octav Koray - a
Starfighter pilot, proved extremely friendly. When he came to know that I would
be driving a new car back from Vienna he gave me several of his visiting cards to
use in case of any unforeseen problem in Turkey.
Two of the people from K-2, Singhdeo
and Diwanian - who had ordered the Golf, received an earlier delivery date.
They went together, took delivery of their cars and were back in about 10 days.
So from K-2 I had no company at all on my journey to Vienna. We did not know of
anyone else who was slated to take delivery that day. Susan was worried about
my travelling alone, but the die had been cast.
The one way journey to Vienna would
take nearly 5 days in all. I decided to set off from Baghdad on 28th
April. The bus was scheduled to depart at 5 o’clock in the evening. Singhdeo was kind enough to offer to take me to
Baghdad in his Golf on the appointed day. On the way he gave me the wheel for a
feel of a LH drive car. I drove for about 50 kms before we switched seats again.
We had lunch in Baghdad before making our way to the bus stand.
The bus that I would travel by belonged
to the Turkish company Tufekcioglu. The
company was a regular and well known operator of buses between Baghdad and
Istanbul. Their large Toyota buses with rear mounted diesel engines and loud
horns were a common sight on the highway. And they were fast - they could
easily overtake cars if space permitted!
I bought my ticket and decided to check
out the bus which would be my steed for the next three days! I located the
particular bus and who do I see - Parvez Khokhar & Gurnam Singh Choudhary from
Tikrit waiting near the bus! Unbeknown to me they too had the same delivery
date for their Golfs in Vienna and were on their way out! I was most happy that
I would have some company for the journey. We kept our luggage by our seats
which looked fairly comfortable.
The road distance from Baghdad to
Istanbul was over 2,500 kms. The route
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| Near Bolu, Turkey. Pic courtesy Wg. Cdr Dhavle |
would proceed straight north from
Baghdad via Baiji and Mosul to reach Zakho. This was the exit point out of Iraq
for Turkey. Two drivers manned each bus to share the drive. The atmosphere
around our bus generally resembled that of a picnic and no one seemed to be in
any hurry to start.
Eventually we started about an hour
late when it was nearing sunset. The bus exited the city via the ‘Baab al
Baghdad’ - a large archway on the northern road exit/entry from Baghdad. Barely
a few kilometres further the driver found a clear space off the highway and
stopped. Everyone except us got down for the evening prayers. This also involved
some ablutions before the prayers and a drink afterwards. Once done, we got
going and joined the highway again. We
passed Baiji around 9 o’clock and continued to Mosul. There was a stop near
Mosul for dinner. This appeared to be the
routine that these long-distance buses followed- planned stops for meals and
prayers.
By the time we came to the border at Zakho
it was very late, past midnight. We were quite fatigued, almost half asleep, but
Immigration & Customs formalities had to be completed. We had been warned
that the border officials would try to squeeze cash out of everyone. They
insisted that we change at least a hundred US Dollars into Turkish Lira. We
were too fatigued to argue and wearily complied. By the time they were done
with all the passengers it was past 2 o’clock at night. We then entered Turkey
and set off. The seats which had promised comfort proved anything but when it
came to sleeping. There was nothing to do but try and adjust, and get some
sleep as best as possible.
The bus was however very stable on
wheels and the road was good on the Turkey side. The drivers drove very
proficiently, not taking any unnecessary risks while maintaining the highway
limit speeds. As hours ticked by, our sole problem was how to get comfortable
enough to sleep since the seats would not allow one to stretch fully.
At the planned stops the restaurants
were all of a similar design for self-service meals. The hot meals, essentially
consisting of rice, beans, legumes, meat and perhaps a small portion of dessert
were always very tasty and nutritious, but not at all costly. My abiding impression of Turkey that
remains to this day is that it’s a beautiful country. (In fact, aren’t all
countries beautiful in their own special ways?!) The terrain in the Eastern
Turkey was generally flat with sandy grassland and bushes, not unlike the land
in Iraq. The weather was cold. Every village we passed had a tall and striking
minaret with loudspeakers on all four sides for a call to prayers. They looked noticeably
clean and neat.
Hazy memories of sights remain of any
large city that we passed, and we passed many - Cizre, Nusaybin, Gaziantep,
Adana, Aksarai, Ankara and Duzce on the way to Istanbul. Beyond Gaziantep the
highway ran through unbroken greenery with continuous mountainous terrain. Sometimes
there was light rain as well, especially in central Turkey. On the second night
we passed through some very steep mountainous passes where the road looked
decidedly dangerous with tight hairpin bends. They were so steep that the
headlights could not sufficiently illuminate the outer edge of the road.
Blanching at the sight, we made a mental note of it so as to try and traverse
it in day time on our return journey. That’s when we would be driving back our
own brand new cars.
Day 3: On the third morning, even more
fatigued, we pulled up very early at a stop outside a small town in the mountains.
It was a cold dawn with light drizzle; the place was green with mist swirling
around the road. Vehicles would appear out of this mist around the bend in the
highway and pass by honking loudly to warn people. We got down for a hot glass
of Turkish tea. Most apparently, India was regarded highly in this part of the
world we barely knew of. When people were told that we were Indian the people
in the shop broke into a dance! The Tea shop owner also totally declined payment!
The memory of that green and misty stop is easy to recall.
Istanbul was a half day’s drive from
there. Western Turkey is mostly hilly. There was even snow on some of the peaks.
As the highway wound its way into the city we crossed the famous bridge on the
Bosphorus, signifying entry from Asia into Europe. The traffic became thicker,
with narrower roads and finally we crawled into a small bus stop! I could hardly
believe that these massive Tufekcioglu coaches were operating out of such a
small and busy station, but that they were. Even here the cityscape was undulating
and we could get a view of some part of Istanbul down the sloping road beyond.
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| Wg. Cdr Dhavle (Retd) - lunch stop in Vienna |
The morning was cold and crisp, with more
bright blue in the sky above. Plenty of ferry boats plied from the small
harbour near the station. And the weather was COLD. I still recall the date, 1st
May 1982 – the temperature was zero degrees! We located a waiting room inside
the Station where we set down our bags. With about 6 hours’ wait in Istanbul
before our train for Vienna, Parvez collected money from us and went off to buy
tickets. After he returned he and Gurnam Singh asked me to wait with our
luggage while they went and grabbed a shower. As it happened, I kept waiting and
waiting until they eventually returned - after 4 hours! Much later they told me
that they went off for a bit of sightseeing after their baths! Result - I was
the only one left without a shower after the long bus journey!
When Parvez and Gurnam returned we still
had about 2 hours for the train departure. The first part of journey would take
us to Zagreb in the erstwhile Yugoslavia where we had to change trains for
Vienna. Zagreb was about 1,200 kms from Istanbul and, crossing Bulgaria, we
would reach there by the next evening. Departure from Istanbul was at 6 o’clock
in the evening.
We boarded the train and in our
compartment were 3 other Yugoslavs already seated inside. They weren’t too
conversant with English so attempts at any conversation soon petered off into
silence. In no time the heat inside the coach became uncomfortably apparent - as
if the heating control was stuck in ‘fully hot’ position. I tried to get the
matter rectified but to no avail. No language, no help - that was the essence
of the attendant’s gestures. Now the compartment was so stiflingly over heated
I was beginning to feel nauseous! We shed all our warm clothes to try and cool
off. There were 6 of us seated in close proximity, perspiring profusely - so chances
of catching any sleep during the night were non–existant - yet again!
After the train started Parvez managed
to strike up a conversion with one of the three, a young man travelling with
his girlfriend and they seemed to make some sense to each other! Outside hardly
anything of the countryside was visible in the gathering darkness. All I can
remember of that night on the train is the unbearable heat – a complete
anti-climax after the long bus journey.
Day 4: Next morning around 10 o’clock two
officials came into the compartment and demanded to see our passports. After
the perusal they simply pocketed them and indicated that we follow them out of
the compartment! We had a quick chat between the 3 of us. I then stepped out
with them - a task that fell on me since I was the ‘senior most’ among us. We
crossed one bogey after another until we stopped near the rear of the train.
Meanwhile the train also came to a halt. Now the two officials got down and
gestured that I should also come out! I was, by this time, thoroughly perplexed,
wondering what the matter was! They took
out our passports, and asked me the reason for our journey. I had a brief chat
with them about our car delivery appointment in Vienna. They seemed to
understand English pretty well and accepted my explanation without any further
questions. We then climbed back onto the train and, once again, we marched in
single file until we were in the last compartment. It looked like an office of
sorts. They took out some papers and stamps; and without a word stamped the
Passports!
Now they came alive, shook my hand,
handed back the passports with a smile and said “Nehru, Tito, Nasser, great
men, we salute”! That was the first time they had shown any emotion! At last it
became clear that this was ‘Border Control’ during the train journey. We were crossing
from Bulgaria to Yugoslavia and this was the manner in which they issued a ‘Visa
on Arrival’!
Passports collected, I made my way back
to our compartment where Parvez and Gurnam were waiting. Parvez was not the
worrying sort but it’s one of the rare times I saw his anxious looks! The whole
matter took about half an hour and the way those Immigration Officials behaved
it was impossible to guess that this was only a matter of the entry visa!
The relief did not last long - at least
for Parvez! Another set of Officials appeared and started pacing through the corridor.
Seeing them, the young Yugoslav who had conversed with Parvez became very
nervous. Finally he took Parvez aside and muttered and gestured in a most
pleading way. It was Parvez’s turn to turn red in the face. The matter was
rather complicated! The officials were from the Yugoslav Customs Service, and
while the young man was a Serb, they were not – they were Croats. The two
communities simply hated each other. The young man had apparently bought a
leather jacket in Istanbul and was wearing it. Now he was pleading with Parvez
to take the jacket and temporarily claim its ownership till the Customs check
was over and done with. Parvez was in a jam, he cursed the guy (in Hindi) to
us, but he could not be seen to desert a new friend!
While he was pondering over this
dilemma the officials barged in! They were surprised when they saw my Passport.
They had not expected to see Indians! Even better (for Parvez’s young friend),
they repeated the “Tito, Nehru, Nasser- great men” mantra and got busy chatting
with us Indians. When we explained that we were on our way to Vienna to collect
VW cars, they were even more impressed. So, Indians were not as poor as they
had thought! Having chatted with us they checked the passports of the Yugoslavs
and breezed out. The matter of The Leather Jacket blew over in a most
unexpected manner, with great relief for Parvez and the young Yugoslav!
Late afternoon we reached Zagreb. Here we
were to change trains. The wait was not long and soon our train for Vienna
arrived. This was less crowded, and by dinner time, we were the only three left
in our compartment. At last we had space to stretch out! We fully intended to
make up for the bus journey and the previous HOT night! Needless to say, I did
not realise how the night passed!
Day 5: Early in the morning I awoke to
some commotion in the corridor outside our compartment as the train was passing
in and out of tunnels traversing a beautiful mountainous stretch of the journey.
Parvez was not to be seen while Gurnam came in looking flustered! Apparently,
Parvez had taken the liberty to use the train Toilet to have a shower. He urged
Gurnam to do the same as well. Meanwhile, some other passenger had gone to the
toilet only to find it thoroughly wet, so he went to complain about it! In the
meantime Gurnam went in for his shower. The Conductor came to check the toilet and
opened it with his key- only to find Gurnam showering! Needless to say, there
was a conflagration in the toilet and as a result, India and Indians were not
the flavour of the morning in that train! As a result of this fracas I missed
my shower again!
Around 8 o’clock the Austrian Border
Control appeared. We already had visas for Austria but they didn’t look happy
to see us, and would not accept our reason for the trip (Probably they had
heard about that shower business?). They demanded to see if we had enough money
on us for the journey! We literally had to show all the money that each of us
carried – Travellers’ cheques, cash et al. We also had to show the correspondence
from VW about our cars before they were satisfied! While this was not totally unexpected,
the discourtesy of these two Austrian officials put us off completely.
Nonetheless, we arrived in Vienna around
9 o’clock in the morning. The weather was colder than we were used to. We
decided against going to a hotel and instead took a taxi directly to the VW
showroom - ‘Porsche Wien-Liesing’. It turned out to be a very large and sprawling
complex that marketed all makes of German cars - VW, Audi, Mercedes and BMW. We
were met by a Dealer on entry. He consulted his papers and told us that we were
expected and the cars were ready with all their paperwork. He was most business
like and got down to work right away.
My car had been transported by train
and had barely clocked any mileage. Parvez
and Gurnam’s cars had been driven down from the factory in Wolfsburg, Germany. As
such their two cars had already completed the first mandatory servicing. The export
paperwork for my car had been completed but not for Parvez and Gurnam’s cars.
One important matter was the shopping
that we were to do, mainly for the children. It was decided that Parvez and
Gurnam would visit the Customs with the Dealer, clear the paperwork for the
outbound journey and return to the VW showroom. I would take all the shopping
lists, visit the nearest mall where there was a Mothercare store and finish the
shopping for everyone. We planned to regroup at the showroom.
There was a small but nice restaurant in
the showroom where we planned to have lunch after completing all the work and
then proceed to a hotel. Sightseeing in Vienna was planned for that evening and
perhaps the next day. If possible, we would make a short detour and visit Graz
while driving out of Austria. All in all, we planned to stay three days in
Austria.
Once the paper formalities were
complete the Dealer took us to our cars and handed over the ownership papers.
It was quite a proud moment! This was the first absolutely brand new car that I
had ever bought! I had opted for a very sophisticated colour scheme- Ascot Grey
car with Royal Blue leather seats. In reality the combination proved
disappointing at first sight! The Ascot Grey turned out to be far more pink than
grey and the Royal Blue was too bright a blue. The combination did not look as classy
as in the brochure and I was a bit disappointed. Anyway, I accepted the car
keys, started the engine and revved it up a bit and generally got a bit
familiar with the new vehicle. Parvez and Gurnam also got acquainted with their
cars. We were then ready to separate as per our plan.
The Dealer explained the route to the
nearest mall. I had no difficulty in adapting to the LH drive car and the
reversed driving lanes as compared to India. The drive to the mall was not too
long. There were very few people in the mall since it was only about 11 o’clock
in the morning. The shop assistant in Mothercare who met me was most obliging. Once
I explained to her what I needed she laughed and took all the lists from me and
asked me to return in about half an hour. I found a restaurant and settled down
with a cup of coffee and some breakfast. When I went back to Mothercare our
items were ready in neat and separate piles. Payment done, I loaded the car
with all the stuff and was back in the VW showroom before the others.
When Parvez and Gurnam returned they also
needed to have a little snack. We then
bought maps of the Vienna city and for the highway journey to Iraq. (In Iraq it
was impossible to find any literature in English in the markets, and maps even
more so, since Iraq was at war with Iran by then). The Dealer pointed out a few
well known landmarks of Vienna on the map. We then loaded our luggage in the
cars aiming to drive around Vienna for a while before finding a hotel.
Parvez led the way out of the parking
lot and Gurnam followed in his car, but I was blocked by another car which
stopped in front and started manoeuvring for parking. A bit late, I rushed out
and exited the Showroom complex. As I turned onto the street I saw a small
commotion, with 2 Golfs parked. There was also a third car- a Fiat 131- along
with them. I immediately realised that those Golfs belonged to Parvez &
Gurnam! I also pulled aside and parked. Parvez came around and gave me the
news- Gurnam had met with an accident as
he drove out of the exit gate!
Apparently Gurnam, unfamiliar with the
L.H. drive cars and the different traffic system, had turned onto the wrong
side of the street as he exited!! The Fiat 131, coming from the opposite
direction, was at a good speed. It swerved to avoid Gurnam’s car but could not
avoid giving it a glancing blow on the front right hand side. There was a fair
amount of damage to the body, the headlight and front fender of the Golf. The
Fiat 131 was also damaged on its Right side. The engine of Gurnam’s Golf was
sounding far more rough and loud than before – an altogether unexpected
emergency!
Parvez went back and fetched the
Dealer. He had both the cars brought into the Showroom complex. He checked the
cars and their Insurance papers. He then talked to both the drivers and made
out an accident report for the Insurance Agencies. A rough sketch of the
accident situation was also prepared which formed a part of that report. His
short verdict was “Mr. Choudhary, you were on the wrong side of the road, so according
to the Austrian laws your Insurance will pay for the damage to the Fiat. As far
as the damage to your car goes, you will have to pay for its repairs!” There
was no arguing with that!
The next question was how much would
the repairs cost? The Dealer examined the damage to Gurnam’s car thoroughly and
came up with an estimate of 5,500/- Austrian Schillings! The cost of the brand
new Golf was only 4,700/- Au. Sch! In essence the repairs would cost more than
the brand new car itself! How? The cost included replacement of the RH front
door, front fender, body painting, engine repair and tuning. A very sizeable
portion of the cost was the labour charges. When it was suggested that perhaps
the door could be dent-repaired, he refused it point blank. He was emphatic
that his Agency’s reputation was on line, so the car must look as good as new
when it exits his Showroom. It was absolutely unacceptable to him to make
partial repairs and let the car go to Iraq for the remainder. We needed to put
our heads together for a viable solution so we asked for ‘time out’ and retreated
to a corner in the small restaurant for a discussion.
It was immediately clear that we would
have to help out Gurnam financially to deal with the repair costs and return
drive. Parvez and I counted out our money (for the second time that day!) and
took an assessment as to how much each of us could spare for Gurnam. The cost
of the return journey to Iraq was calculated with all other extras such as
night stay in hotels. I can’t recall now how much money we parted with, but
suffice it to say that except for the estimated cost of the return journey, no
spare money was left with me for any other activity such as shopping or sightseeing.
It was a most daunting situation- we were faced with a 4,000+ km drive to be
negotiated with no further major problem!
Gurnam then remembered that he had a
contact in Vienna- a distant relative of one of the Instructors then serving in
Tikrit. He had had given Gurnam this
contact in case we ran into any unforeseen problem. Well, this certainly was
it. Gurnam contacted him and explained the matter. Thankfully, he said he will take
a break from work and come and see us right away. He was as good as his word – he
appeared in about an hour and examined the damage to Gurnam’s car. He knew a
mechanic in the city who assured him that the job could be done at a much lower
cost. Gurnam of course would have to spend additional time in Vienna for the
repairs.
With some regret I record that, after
so many years, I have simply no memory of this young Sardar’s name now! He could not have been more helpful in that
situation. Apart from the help with the repairs he insisted that we stay with
him. His point was that we had yet to
start our return journey so it was best to save as much money as possible starting
now. So it was that he led us to his apartment in Vienna, where he and his wife
lived.
Vienna as a city was totally foreign to
me then and will be so even now! We had no clue of the layout of the city, its
landmarks or its roads. Driving required tremendous concentration on my part. The
city was unfamiliar; and I dared not lose sight of the two cars ahead of me,
nor let anyone get in between, because I did not know where our new friend
stayed! We just followed his car and reached his home after about half an
hour’s drive.
He lived with his wife in a small one
bedroom apartment in a high rise. They were much younger than us. I have no
idea how long they had stayed in Vienna, but probably long enough, because both
of them spoke German fluently. It was from him in Vienna that I learnt
the trick of getting good TV signals without using a regular (and cumbersome)
TV antenna! He had tied a metal spoon to a window bar and connected the
co-axial cable to it! He said he had very poor TV signal due to all the tall
structures around till he chanced upon this trick. Now he received the
reflected signals and had a very good TV reception!
In the evening he wanted to show us
around the city. His wife insisted on staying back to cook a dinner for us. We
four got into my car and set off on a ‘guided tour’ to see Vienna sights. Since
I was driving, my entire sightseeing consisted of the traffic ahead, almost! We
stopped only once- outside the U.N. City entrance - to see tall buildings
inside the sprawling complex. (The diplomats led a very comfortable life, it
seemed.) The traffic was very fast, especially
inside the Old City where the streets were paved with cobbled stones. We
rocketed up and down those streets, tightly jammed in the traffic at
bone-jarring speeds. It was all a new experience to me, and later Parvez and
Gurnam both remarked that they were glad not to be driving!
Our new friend’s wife had made Aloo
Parathas for dinner- a treat when so far away from home. During dinner Parvez
and I discussed and decided that we should depart for Iraq early the next
morning. After dinner mattresses were spread out on the floor; we made space
for each other and went to sleep.
The next morning Parvez and I got up early
to get ready first. Our small luggage
was already packed. After making sure that Gurnam had all that he would need, and
with a warm goodbye to our hosts, we went down to our cars, put in our luggage
and started up for what would be a momentous drive for us.
Parvez asked that I should lead the way
since I had already driven around the city. The map showed that on our way we would
pass the VW Showroom. It was perhaps the only landmark in the city that we were
familiar with! After negotiating the city traffic for about half an hour we
came upon the Showroom at last. A little ahead there was a left turn that took
us to the Ring Road. We spent another half an hour on the Ring Road before we joined
the Autobahn. The Ring Road circled Vienna, which was visible on our left as if
in a bowl, all the way till we reached the highway. Eventually we appeared to
be headed away from Vienna - towards south and for Yugoslavia!
Driving on the ‘Autobahn Sud’ was a
very new but relaxing experience. 4 lanes each side was certainly wide by
Indian standards! The extreme right was
the slowest lane and extreme left the fastest. While we stuck to the speed
limit of 120 kmph not many cars were willing to remain that slow. There was one
instance when we were passed by a large sedan probably making upwards of 250
kmph! We were buffeted strongly by its slipstream as it flashed by and rapidly disappeared
ahead!
Lunch stop was at one of the small
restaurants off the Autobahn. Here Parvez took out his Polaroid camera and took
the first photos of our journey. The perfect weather and the scenery were fit
for a holiday! But we had weightier things on our minds, so post lunch Parvez
led the way as we got going.
Further south the Autobahn started
descending. At one point we were looking straight down the knife-edge of a
ridge as the road descended very steeply - no zig-zagging in Austria! This was perhaps
an indication that we were soon to exit Austria for Yugoslavia. Sure enough, early
evening we came to the southern border of Austria at Spielfeld. We made some
purchases at the Duty Free shop expending our Austrian Schillings and headed
for the border crossing. The exit was no problem since there were very few cars
ahead.
It was dark as we entered Yugoslavia. We
drove till about 8 o’ clock when we came to a large truck stop with all the night-stop
facilities. We checked into the Motel, had a quick self-service dinner and retired
to our rooms. This was only the first day’s drive that we had completed but
much more lay ahead. The plan was to drive 1,000 kms every day to try and reach
home in 4 days. It was doable since the road was good and the facilities were
well planned. It entailed about 9 to 10 hours’ drive every day with stops in
between for meals and a bit of rest.
The next morning, a complete absence of
hot water meant a cold shower, but it prepped us for the long day ahead. Again
Parvez led the way. We passed Zagreb in the morning and continued to Belgrade,
cruising steadily. The highway in Yugoslavia was very smooth and clear. We were
both very pleased with the Golf’s engine performance and its mileage. The cars
appeared to be clocking excellent mileage - a ready pointer to the health of
the engine. Refuelling figures so far indicated a mileage of 25 to 30 kms per
litre of diesel (It was later proved to be correct under some very trying
circumstances in Iraq).
We came to Belgrade at about lunch time
and chanced upon a large VW showroom just off the highway. My car was due for
its first mandatory Servicing by now, so we stopped. The dealer said they will
do the Servicing on priority, but even after an hour’s wait there was no
progress. Finally we called it quits, and re-joined the highway.
The city if Nis went by in the
afternoon. Gradually the terrain became hilly and the road too narrowed to a
single lane each side. So far we had had a very uneventful drive, but I had an
unexpected experience of Yugoslav police here. Parvez overtook a car ahead of
him but I was blocked by it. A police car happened to be parked nearby and they
flagged down the two of us at the rear. When we stopped, the Yugoslav native driver
of the car in front was let go, but my passport was simply pocketed! They then asked
me in very broken English to report to Belgrade the next day (for no apparent
reason, at all)! We had been briefed about this type of intervention both in
Yugoslavia as well as in Turkey, so I eventually had to offer them some
Yugoslav currency that I still had with me. It was not much in value but they
took it and released my passport. Parvez meanwhile had taken the precaution to
stop well ahead and wait for me out of harm’s way!
We were then not far from the Bulgarian
border. Further ahead the terrain gradually became pretty hilly and the road
passed through a number of tunnels. Here again Parvez decided to stop and we
took our photos. Later, when we came to the border check posts, we met the
driver of the other car and he cursed the two Police, but that was that. We
completed the exit/entry formalities and crossed into Bulgaria.
Bulgaria is a relatively small country
and we estimated that the distance of about 350 kms should not take us more
than 3 hours’ drive to cross over into Turkey. We passed the Capital city Sofia
late in the evening and 2 hours later we crossed Plovdiv. These cities have a
lot of history but we did not think that we had the necessary spare money to
stop and enjoy the sights. After Plovdiv we stopped briefly to munch on some
snacks and hit the road again - to Edirne and the Turkish border, which we
reached well past dinner time.
The exit procedures out of Bulgaria were
completed around 11 pm. As we drove across no-man’s land to Turkey we had another
unpleasant surprise - Turkish officials had just closed the border gates a few
minutes before. (It is a customary practice at many of these border crossings
to close for the night and re-open in the morning.) We called out to them
across the gates but to no avail. There was nothing to do but wait out the night
in our cars, parked between the two countries! The Immigration Officers simply
refused to budge and we seemed destined to spend the night between Bulgaria and
Turkey, ensconced in our vehicles.
Also waiting ahead of us to enter
Turkey were two other vans. They were packed with large families with lots of
little children running about and creating a commotion. The ladies spread out a
large sheet on the road and made comfortable. They spread out their food and all
had a community dinner of sorts, as typical Arab families do. They even asked
us to join in but we had eaten some packed sandwiches by then. They certainly appeared
better prepared than us to wait out the night at the border. It was nearing
midnight by now. Once they finished, the women busied themselves putting the
children to sleep, while the men wandered about aimlessly, examining the
surroundings. It was then that we had a most unexpected break!
Having finished dinner one of the men
wandered up to us. He had noticed that we were driving similar looking German cars
and wondered where we were from. He could speak a bit of English along with his
Arabic. I had learnt a fair bit of practical Arabic words and short sentences
from my pupils. I was thus able converse with him -mostly in broken Arabic with
some English. “Ana Hindi, wa al Tayyar”. (I am Indian and a pilot). His eyes
widened! I then explained “Ana Mudarrib al Tayyareen bil al Iraq”. (I am an
Instructor for pilots in Iraq.) He then wanted to know what kind of planes we
flew. Were we fighter pilots? I laid it on real thick now “Naam, al Mirage
Alfeyen”! (Yes, the Mirage 2000)!
This had an effect like an electric
shock! The man ran to the Immigration office and pulled out the two officers
inside yelling at them! They appeared shell-shocked! He had apparently made it
clear to them that they were making two Air Force Officers and pilots- Mirage
pilots at that- wait at the border! And they had not even bothered to listen to
us! The Officers’ demeanour changed completely and they were suddenly most
apologetic! They yelled at the men to get their vans out of the way so we could
be allowed to enter Turkey immediately! At the same time they were pleading
with us not to report them to higher authorities for making us wait this long!
Our passports were stamped, the gates were opened and we were invited into
Turkey in a most humble way!
The whole thing happened so fast that
we were taken by a complete surprise! I recovered just in time to pull up one
of the Officers and insist that we will not enter unless the vans ahead were
also allowed entry into Turkey- they were there before us, and had all these small
children with them. No problem, said the Officers, and yelled at the men to get
their documents. We could afford to wait a few more minutes, and the men in the
vans were extremely grateful that we thought of them also in this matter! It
was all ‘sorry’, and ‘thanks’ all around and we were in Turkey before we knew
it! We made a note of the fact that from hereon in Turkey we were Mirage pilots!
Edirne, the city, was still ahead, but
we came upon a night-stop for trucks pretty soon and decided to spend the night
there. It was nearly 2 o’clock by then. There was nothing hot to be found to
eat at that time of the night and the rooms were also very basic. The place
however was good enough for us to stretch out for the night. Tomorrow would be
a big day; we would pass through Istanbul and cross over the Bridge on the
Bosphorus into Asia. Nearly half the distance home had been covered by now. We
had not yet decided whether we should stop in Istanbul for a bit of
sight-seeing.
Crossing Turkey was the longest stretch
of the drive within a single country- about 1,930 kms. The route passed from Edirne
to Istanbul- Sakarya- Ankara- Aksaray- Nigde- Adana- Osmaniye- Gaziantep-
Nizip- Sanliurfa- Kiziltepe- Nusaybin- Cizre and at last- Zakho. We cross into Iraq at Zakho. Along the way we
expected to pass the largest lake in Turkey ‘Tuz Golu’ south of Ankara.
Next morning, tired as we were, we got
ready, had breakfast and set off. Pretty soon we were in Edirne. Parvez decided
to stop and take a few photos- the first in Turkey. We also refuelled the cars
and then set off towards Istanbul.
We drove steadily for about two hours
out of Edirne when all traffic ahead seemed to have come to a halt. The highway
was just a two-lane road here, one each way, so we had no choice but to join
this queue at the tail. After quite a while a black Police car appeared and a
Police officer got down and started issuing tickets for speed violation! We had
been forewarned about this type of harassment. I was given a ticket for
speeding at 70 kmph while the ‘limit was 60’, and Parvez, who was behind me, was
ticketed for making a faster speed of 80 kmph! Parvez then asked him ‘how come I
was behind him when I was making 80 and he was only making 70’? The Police
officer bluntly said “I don’t know, but you pay!”
Parvez then called the Police to our
cars in a conspiratorial manner. Before starting the day’s drive he had taken care
to hang his IAF uniform- wings, ribbons and all - prominently on a hangar in
the car window. He pointed to the uniform with wings and gestured as if to ask
‘now what do you have to say’. Great move! The Police officer reacted instantly
and tore off the speeding tickets asking us not to over-speed again! We pulled
out of traffic and headed for Istanbul carefully passing the long queue of
about 50 cars ahead of us. The halt had eaten up nearly an hour from our drive!
Istanbul is a very large city. It was
visible from a long distance but took quite a while coming up as traffic built
up steadily. We had thought of stopping in Istanbul for at least a little bit
of sight-seeing but due to the delay the idea was dropped. We were also quite travel-weary
by now so we decided to simply drive on. It was also impossible to look at
anything but the traffic ahead. It got heavier and heavier as we made our way
towards the famous Bridge on the Bosporus. I was in the lead and dare not find
myself in the wrong lane- I think there were six lanes going each way. When we
finally entered the Bridge it was just possible to appreciate its engineering
aspects while driving on, apart from its significant geographical position
straddling Europe and Asia. Vehicles of all sizes were making their way to Asia
comprising plenty of large container trucks in the slow lane.
After we crossed over into Asia the
highway hugged the Mediterranean coast along the very edge of The Sea of
Marmara. The height above water was considerable and it varied with undulating
hillside. What remained constant was that special Mediterranean Blue of the Sea
of Marmara- it was simply breath taking. The weather was not as clear as when
we had passed through a week earlier, yet Marmara retained that pleasing and
special azure for which it is very famous.
I pulled off the highway when a
restaurant complex came up so we could at least take in the vista around the
Sea of Marmara. The time was just right- it was early evening, the restaurant
had seating that overlooked the waters and there was ample space. We ordered Turkish
coffee and some pastries. The coffee turned out to be exceptionally bitter to
our great disappointment- but also because we perhaps did not know what we were
ordering! The coffee came in tiny cups and it was meant to be sipped! We’d been
looking for a regular cup of coffee to accompany the pastries instead! Not to look
ignorant, we simply sipped on. The Pastries saved the evening! As it turned out
we had probably stopped at the very last point from where a grand view of the Sea
of Marmara was possible because when we set off, the highway made its way into
hills almost immediately. All sight of the sea was lost thereafter.
The highway now entered a beautiful hill
section with wide banked curves and
 |
| Edirne, Turkey. Pic courtesy Wg. Cdr Dhavle |
extra wide lanes for the trucks. I was in
the lead and we were enjoying the fast drive through the hills. The lights of
Istanbul had now receded completely and it became fairly dark in the heavily
forested hills. There was plenty of truck traffic but well-disciplined. Taking
advantage of clearer stretches we continued accelerating since the road was now
quite clear. The turns were designed for speed, so the driving itself was not
just effortless but very enjoyable.
We were in a fast descending turn at
about 150 kmph, certainly beyond the limit of 120, when suddenly out of
darkness appeared a Police car; a Fiat 131 that was parked by the side with its
lights off- and a Police Officer standing by the highway! Too late for us to
react! The Police Officer flagged us down with one bright flash of a torch, and
we complied, pulling over to stop. The usual formalities followed; with one major
difference- this Police officer did not at all look corrupt! He took possession
of our Passports, our Driving Licences, and all our other details. The
paperwork was pocketed and he calmly asked us to appear in a court in Istanbul
the next day, pay requisite penalties and then proceed after compliance with
Court directions! Unlike his colleagues who had accosted us earlier that
morning, he would not accept any ‘fine’ on the spot. He also told us that he
was aware that his colleagues accepted bribes! This was a totally unexpected
and serious matter. We asked him to wait a moment and stepped aside to discuss
the matter.
Talking in Hindi we discussed the next
course of action between us. That’s when
I remembered the friendly Turkish Air Attache’! I then resorted to what would
be an emergency recovery action. We walked back to the Officer and I produced a
visiting card of the Attaché - Col. Octav Koray. The Officer was a little surprised to see it.
I then told him that he was a fellow pilot and a friend, and he had specially instructed
me to advise so to anyone in Turkey should I need any assistance. Further, I
promised the Police officer that if he let us go now, he has my word of honour
that we will not be found in violation of Turkish speed limits or other laws again
during the rest of our drive which would last another two days.
The Police Officer took this seriously.
He already knew from our papers that we were IAF pilots and Officers,
especially after seeing our uniforms in the cars. He pondered over the matter
for a few seconds and then at last reached for our papers. He handed them back
with one advice- if we were found speeding again, he would know because he had
our details. He would then insist that we come back to Istanbul from wherever
we were in Turkey; and face the consequences! We agreed and he waved us on -
without any further action or fine. We thanked him and re-joined the highway.
This sudden set-back left a bitter taste and took away all the earlier enjoyment
in the drive! That was a really close shave! We eventually stopped for the
night around 10 pm at one of the petrol pumps with the usual night-stop facilities.
Next day we wanted to make up for the time
lost in earlier unscheduled stops. Now Parvez took the lead and making steady
progress we arrived in the vicinity of Ankara at about 11 o’ clock in the
morning. A most unexpected turn of events took place here. Approaching Ankara there
was a bifurcation where traffic for the city separated from Highway traffic. Parvez
surprisingly missed the turn towards the highway as he found himself in the
wrong lane for it. I shifted lanes and followed him, just so we stay together.
We
were now headed into the city! He seemed to have realised his mistake and slowed
down a bit. I indicated that I was still with him and he should take the next roundabout
and return to the highway. Somehow he was in the wrong lane again and went
straight ahead instead of turning Right around the roundabout. Anticipating the turn I had already shifted
lanes to take the roundabout and it was now too late for me to change lanes
again to follow him. I then cleared the roundabout and pulled off to the side
to wait for him. There was a fair amount of traffic but hardly any hatchbacks
like my Golf. I was sure Parvez would easily spot my parked car by the side of
the road. No such luck. I waited for about twenty minutes, but no sign of
Parvez and his car. I then started and re-joined the highway and stopped there
again for another 20 minutes. Parvez was nowhere to be seen, so after about 50
kms of fast driving, I stopped again for another try at rendezvous, but by now it
was more or less clear that each of us were on our own for good, for the
remaining part of the drive. We would have to make our way home independently.
 |
| Wing Cdr Dhavle, Eastern Yugoslavia, Pic courtesy Wg. Cdr Dhavle |
I had lost well over an hour waiting
for Parvez at various points by then. I had to take a call on how driving alone
would affect the remaining drive. That very steep section of zig-zag in East
Central Turkey was still to come! As a result of the delay, now I would have to
drive through that part at night. I stopped for a hurried lunch, started off
quickly, only to learn another lesson- ‘haste makes waste’! About 50 kms
further something made me reach for my wallet and I couldn’t find it! It
usually stayed by me on the centre pedestal between the seats while driving. It
contained all my Documents and the money! I pulled off, stopped the car and
checked, but the large wallet was nowhere to be seen. Now unsure if I left it
at the restaurant where I had my lunch, I decided to turn back and check at the
restaurant again.
I drove back 50 kms only to draw a
blank at the restaurant! I walked back to the car wondering how I would negotiate
the next day and a half without my Documents on me and even worse, no money too!
I would have to refuel the car at least thrice and would also need
documentation for myself and the car to exit Turkey and enter Iraq! I was
standing near the car utterly exasperated and pondering over this dilemma when
suddenly I saw my wallet under the driver seat, jammed in an awkward corner! It
was a place that was simply not visible from most angles except from where I
accidently saw it! What a relief! Documents and money intact, I dashed towards
Gaziantep, all the while cursing myself! Meanwhile I had lost two more hours!
Early evening found me at Aksaray. I
stopped to get a cup of tea and some snack. Here I bought the well-known
Turkish leather jacket. On our way to Vienna earlier, Parvez and I had decided
to snag some sharp leather jackets in Turkey so now was the chance. The shop owner then pointed out a
remarkable feature of the highway. Visible from where we were standing, the
road ran arrow straight towards the mountains, without a single turn! The
distance was one hundred kilometres!
Unbelievable! The Sun was behind us in the western sky. I scanned the road and
sure enough, he seemed to be right! The weather was so clear that the visibility
was literally unlimited. The bright strip of the highway gradually descended
all the way to the base of the mountains silhouetted on the Eastern horizon. There
the road obviously climbed up those heights. Sometimes flashes of light were
visible as the sun glinted off vehicles negotiating hairpin bends on the climb.
I checked the mileage and set off at a
little over 100 kmph. On a gentle descent towards the mountains, truly the
highway remained absolutely straight for the next one hour till I reached the foothills!
It was getting quite dark by now. Parvez must have passed through this part
during the afternoon, since he was most surely ahead of me.
The zig zags were as steep as we had
noticed, and perhaps more! The road was too steep for the headlights to
illuminate the hairpin bends properly or completely. These mountains were a two
way affair - the steep climb was followed by an equally steep descent later. Hardly
any parapets existed around the sharp hairpin bends. The traffic was fast, the
road was rather rough, and a slight mistake could be disaster. Heroically, the
Tufekcioglu buses were negotiating the zig zags at the same speed as the cars!
The road width was also much narrower than on flatter terrain. Anyway, I negotiated
that stretch in about an hour and stopped to have some dinner.
Since I was well behind schedule I
decided to push for some more mileage before stopping for a night halt. That
turned out to be a mistake - most restaurants and motels had closed or had no rooms
left at the late hour. There was nothing to do but park well off the highway,
straighten out my seat backrest and stretch out in the car itself. The weather
was pleasant and I managed about 5 hours’ fitful sleep.
On the morning of my fourth day in
Turkey I woke up feeling very tired from the relentless driving. I washed my
face and after stretching to shake off the fatigue, continued on my way. This
would be the last day’s drive and I was looking forward to reaching home. I
made the next stop well in time to refresh myself, have breakfast and a little
stretch.
Once again the stark difference between
Eastern and Western Turkey was so apparent, unmissable. This time, apart from
the difference in the terrain and habitation, I also noticed that facially the Turks
this side resembled Asians more than Europeans. Their dress was also more like
the Iraqi Arabs. By now the traffic too appeared to have thinned out
considerably- not too many vehicles headed towards Iraq, apparently.
The previous night I apparently passed
the major Air Force base at Adana without noticing it. That would have been a
great place to stop for the night. But now I concentrated on the task, keeping
as close to speed limit as possible. The highway was narrower now, with just
one single lane either way, no divider. The vegetation was also thinning out with
hardly any trees as I headed further eastward. Late lunchtime saw me reach my
break beyond Gaziantep.
I first freshened up in the rest room. As
I came out I saw a Police car- a black Fiat 131 - pull in and park next to my
Golf. The lone Police officer was soon seated in the Diner. I noticed that all
other people were very careful to give him a wide berth! For lunch he jumped
the queue, served himself and sat at a table all alone. No one appeared to want
to join him! I saw an opportunity here and when I served myself I joined him at
his table. He looked surprised as were the rest of the people in the Diner! I
introduced myself in the limited Arabic that I knew and briefly let him know of
my journey to Iraq. I took care to let him know that I was an IAF pilot and an
Officer; I was a Major by rank, had flown jet fighters and was an Instructor
Pilot as well! He straightened visibly when he had made sense of what I had
just said and his attitude was suddenly most respectful! The people seated around
us were also following this exchange and now appeared more relaxed once he was
at ease! I then pointed out my new Golf to him.
The lunch was a breeze from there on.
He barked out some orders in Turkish and we were served at the table. He
offered to have my lunch charges waived but I insisted on paying, as was
proper. He then offered me some helpful tips about the road ahead to Cizre and
Zakho, and then got up to leave. We parted as friends; he started his car and
threw me a salute as he drove off towards Cizre.
I finished my lunch and set off. I had
covered about 50 kms when the cars ahead appeared to have come to a halt. I guessed
that they had been stopped by my Police friend, so I drove on nonchalantly,
albeit quite slowly. People were milling about on the road, waiting. Some
looked aghast that I was jumping the queue and tried desperately to signal me
to stop with a slash across the throat! No matter, I drove on past the
‘convoy’- roughly about 30 vehicles - till I could see the Police car. I was
careful to slow right down as I neared it and saw that my Police friend was
busy charging for traffic offenses. As I approached, the expression of
annoyance on his face appeared to say ‘who is this idiot who dares not to stop?’
Just as he was about to flag me down he recognised my Golf, and saw me! He
straightened out immediately, and waved me on with a salute and a cheerful
smile! People standing around looked amazed at this unexpected transformation.
I too waved at him as I accelerated off and away. The road ahead could not be
clearer!
It was a lonely drive thereafter. The
weather was pretty warm now. Cizre went by in a flash. I eventually reached
Zakho at about sunset. I finished all the paperwork for importing the car.
Onward for Mosul it was already quite dark.
From Zakho the distance to Mosul would
be about 120 kms and Baiji was another 180 kms further. So I still had to drive
over 300 kms to reach home. There was also the usual heavy truck traffic and I
was mindful that this was now almost the ‘home stretch’ after a long and taxing
journey. The construction work on the road to Mosul entailed slow driving with
plenty of detours.
Mosul went by at about 10 o’clock but I
did not stop for dinner. The road after Mosul was much better so I made do with
only one short stop for stretching my legs and a brief snack. I eventually arrived
at Baiji well past midnight. I passed the village and then the petrol pump; and
about a kilometre ahead turned right off the highway. Another 9 kms distance in
the darkness following tyre tracks in the desert sand brought me to the large oil
refinery outside our Base. I drove around the refinery to the entrance gates of
K-2. The guards on duty recognised me and came to admire the new ‘Alemani’
(German) car with a big smile. They saluted and let me in without any hassles
and I was home! I parked by the side of our building- under one of the windows
of our flat.
The Golf’s diesel engine was a little
loud at idle speed and that brought Susan running out. She was awake, worrying
and waiting. I think it was past 1 o’clock in the dead of the night. She was very
happy to see our very first brand new car! Talu & Akshay could wait- they
were fast asleep.
PS: I learnt later that Parvez reached
Tikrit well ahead of me that evening around sunset time. I perhaps lost too
much time waiting for him outside Ankara and also later when I misplaced my
travel wallet temporarily. He had no such problems and made good speed to reach
home hours earlier.
Gurnam Singh had the damage to the car
body repaired in Vienna then returned. I think he had to stay about 4 extra
days for it. He had no further problems on his long return drive. Repairs to
fix the engine noise of his Golf were undertaken much later at Tikrit by RK
Poonia, another Instructor and a wizard with all things mechanical. However,
that’s another story!
It’s an understatement to say that I
missed Parvez’s company during the last 2
 |
| Parvez, Southeastern Yugoslavia. Pic courtesy Wg. Cdr Dhavle |
days’ driving. We had become a ‘crew’
especially after Gurnam’s accident and our consequential emergency return
abandoning all other plans. He remains, to this day, one of the most confident
and unflappable people I have ever come across. Though we had met each other off
and on since our days as cadets in NDA, we became better acquainted after those
10 days on the road, and became good friends. In Iraq our bases were about 50
kms apart, but the cars afforded ample opportunity to get together after we
returned from Vienna. Consequently our families became good friends thereafter
in Iraq. We eventually separated on our return to India in Sept ‘83.
With his qualification as a Test Pilot, Parvez naturally went to Bangalore to the ASTE while I was posted to Palam.
Parvez never failed to drop in thereafter whenever he had to visit Delhi.
That’s perhaps the last time Parvez and I sat down together for a quiet drink!
 |
| Parvez flying a MIG-21 at ASTE, Bangalore. Pic courtesy Wg. Cdr Dhavle |
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