It takes a village to raise a Gurkha …and an awful lot of raw eggs
One of the Brigade’s finest recounts his journey from childhood in rural Nepal to wartorn Afghanistan, and explains the bonds of brotherhood that underpin their legendary courage
THEY ARRIVE fresh-faced from Nepal, full of pride but missing their homeland. For most, it will be their first flight on an aircraft and the start of their adult life.This March, another 340 raw recruits were selected for the intense nine-month training programme at Catterick Garrison, North Yorkshire, that will turn them into warriors in one of the most respected and feared regiments in the world.
During the Falklands War, Argentinian soldiers around Port Stanley were said to have surrendered en masse when they heard the Gurkhas were coming.
As a Chief of Staff of the Indian Army once said: “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or he is a Gurkha.”
One of the senior staff responsible for training a brigade with a long-standing reputation for military prowess coupled with humility is Kailash Limbu, author of a bestselling military memoir published in 2015 when he was a Colour Sergeant. Its title sums up the brigade’s ethos – Gurkha: Better To Die Than Live a Coward.
He was nominated by his peers to become the first serviceman to tell his story as part of the Gurkhas’ anniversary of 200 years unbroken service to the Crown.
And now, promoted to Captain, he has written a sequel.
“The young Nepali like to become a Gurkha soldier,” says Captain Limbu, who fought behind enemy lines in Afghanistan during five tours and also served in Bosnia and Sierra Leone. “They are willing to put anything into that, to have the opportunity to travel the world, fulfil their dreams and support their family – we look after our parents as much as we can.”
Captain Limbu is far from a stereotypical square-bashing senior leader, screaming at his recruits as they march around a courtyard. He is a softly spoken man who aims instead to be a “father figure” to the young men whom he turns from raw material into a band of brothers in less than a year.
“I am the commander of them, but I take the place of their father. They left their parents far away and I will help them. Not every day is a good day,” he says.
“Operating in the field, we look after each other. We treat each other as a brother, a father figure or a guardian.We operate as one big family and do things as a brotherhood. This makes us unique. If someone needs our help we go and help them.We always look after our family.”
FAR FROM this creating a weak link in combat, Captain Limbu says this unity gives the Gurkhas their legendary strength. “Let’s say a member gets killed or injured. That’s our blood. We want to find the enemy who did this and kill them. We never give up. If our brother is insulted by someone, we go and help. If someone is injured, we will die for him to save him. This is the special thing we have.”
Each Gurkha recruit – selected annually from a pool of more than 20,000 hopefuls in their Himalayan kingdom homeland – sends money home monthly to support their families. In a country where the average annual income is £6,000, this can be life-changing.
“In my time there were more than 32,000 applicants and just 240 were selected. It’s a really tough competition. You need to be completely fearless, both mentally and physically, but this is definitely one of the best ways to make your family proud and have a good life too. The parents miss their son so much but know that this is the greatest opportunity.”
But it can come with a heavy price.
In the summer of 2006, then aged only 24 and having been in the brigade for six years, Limbu, then a Warrant Officer, was sent with his platoon to help secure a police compound in the war-torn district centre of Now Zad, in Helmand Province, Afghanistan.
He was told to prepare for a 48-hour operation. In the end, he and his men were under siege for 31 days – one of the longest such sieges in the whole Afghan campaign. During
that time, they killed an estimated 100 Taliban fighters. His new book reveals the contrast between this bloody arena and his simple childhood in rural Nepal where he dreamed of following in the footsteps of his grandfather and uncle, also both Gurkhas. Born in 1981 in Khebang, one of the most remote Himilayan villages, he didn’t see a car until he was 15.
“When I was growing up, my grandfather used to say, ‘If you want to become a man, you have to join the British Army’.”
HIS MOTHER fed him raw eggs to help him build up the strength he would need.At school, he sat on the floor with a blackboard. “To keep the board black I mixed the powder you get inside used batteries with water,” he recalls.
If it was a nice day, the teacher would take the children outside to write on the ground with a stick. Childhood fun was catching frogs, and sharing rice pudding with friends cooked over an open fire using buffalo milk.
At seven Limbu almost died during an earthquake, at nine he was nearly suffocated in mud following a landslide.
Later, he almost drowned in a river – one of his closest friends was not so lucky.
“I feel lucky to have survived. There were so many near misses with natural disasters and later on the battlefield,” he says. “The lesson that I learned is never to give up.” When he was preparing to come to the UK, Limbu received basic instruction in Western ways from his instructors; how to use a knife and fork, and the mysteries of a sit-down WC. To get to the UK in January 1999, he had to walk for two days from his village to reach a road where he was able to take a bus that started his journey to the airport.
His first time on a plane was quite an experience.
“As a child, seeing a passenger jet fly over, shining like silver, was as amazing as seeing a spaceship,” he recalls. “For the first time I was in a plane above the clouds.”
When he landed, he was amazed by the bitter temperature and different customs of city folk.
“It was interesting to observe the people. So many in a great hurry, walking fast with their heads down,” he says.
“Today, the new recruits know more of Western ways and are far more educated than I was. I had no clue at all what the UK was like.” Training follows protocols, but is designed so the younger men learn from their superiors.
And having learned from those who went before him, Limbu was delighted to pass this insight on to the next generation.
“I bring my experience and knowledge as a Gurkha warrior to share with them,” says Captain Limbu, who has a daughter Alisa, 18, and son, Anish, 15, with his Nepalese wife Sumitra. Her uncle was also a Gurkha.
His children attend a military boarding school and his young son hopes to go to Sandhurst for officer training when he is older.
“Being selected to deliver the training, and being able to pass on my experience and knowledge as a warrior, is an aspiration that not many have the opportunity to offer. It is a great honour,” he continues.
One of the most significant parts of the training his 100 recruits undergo is instruction in how to use the legendary Gurkha khukuri – a forward-curving Nepali machete that can be used as both tool and lethal weapon, but which is most effective in close hand-to-hand combat. The fearsome reputation of the Gurkhas stems from the type of fighting their weapon traditionally involved – a willingness to suffer a hail of bullets to get close – as well as their determination to avenge the death of comrades in battle.
In all theatres of conflict where they served, enemies quickly learned that the Gurkha does not give up – and loves to get up close and personal.
“But we have to be careful,” he adds. “As you climb the ladder you need to learn to control the younger members to do all this without anger.
“The young recruits I am training come from different parts of Nepal, but the training I deliver will create the brotherhood. When they go out to join their own regiment, they will cry and be full of tears to leave each other, but they will have learned the most important lesson: how to create brothers.”
“Families are the most important things in our lives. No matter how successful we are, they should always be our priority.”