AUGUST 26, 2009
In the 1970s, General Wangdu
was the last leader of the thirteen camps of Tibetan freedom fighters hiding
out in Mustang. His murder – he was ambushed at Tinker’s Pass in 1974 – marked
the end of Tibetan armed insurgency against China’s People’s Liberation Army.
When I wrote Buddha’s Warriors, The
Story of the CIA-Backed Tibetan Freedom Fighters, the Chinese Invasion, and the
Ultimate Fall of Tibet, I sifted
through thousands of old photos kept by Tibetan refugees, in search of shots of
Wangdu, but I came up with only two. Several years ago, I mentioned to a friend
of mine – and longtime denizen of Kathmandu – how unfortunate it was that there
were so few images of Wangdu. My friend was Lisa Choegyal, co-author (along
with Gautam SJB Rana) of the recently published Kathmandu Valley Style. (click here for review) Lisa looked at me and
said, “You know, I photographed Wangdu a few months before his death. I wonder
where it is?”
Last week, Lisa happened
upon this long-lost and rare image of Wangdu and forwarded it to me. The note
attached explained that Wangdu had posed for Lisa “in front of the Annapurna
Hotel cacti. He looks so young to have had such a responsibility of leadership
on his shoulders. He was a commanding presence, even zooming around Kathmandu
on the back of a motorbike, which is what we did together, him never without an
armed bodyguard. Maybe that cord you can see around his neck is related to
carrying a
pistol? His English was not great, but you can see
his enthusiasm and the passion for life and his
committed cause in the picture. It was March 1974, and my memory
was he was in (what turned out to be) the last round of negotiations with the
Nepal authorities to cease hostilities with the Chinese - it was a frustrating
time for him, as he must have suspected the costs of his decision.”
For those of you unfamiliar
with the story, the freedom fighters of Tibet, called the Chushi-Gangdruk had risen in resistance to the Chinese takeover of
Tibet in the 1950s. They were estimated to be 80,000-strong at the time of the
Dalai Lama’s escape from Tibet in 1959. The sheer number of PLA deployed into
Tibet eventually forced the Chushi-Gangdruk to retreat to the Nepali area of Mustang, where they
continued to make incursions on the PLA throughout the 1960s. The first leader
of the Mustang forces was Baba Gen Yeshi, who proved to be corrupt. Not only
did he pocket funds intended for the troops, but bribed Tibetan refugees
attempting to escape Tibet through Mustang by having his subordinates
appropriate their sacred statues, thankas and other valuables.
Wangdu was brought to
Mustang to replace Baba Gen Yeshi. Baba Gen Yeshi never forgave Wangdu and would
eventually betray him and the Tibetan freedom fighters.
The story continues with an
excerpt from Buddha’s Warriors:
King Mahendra, who, in the
past had handled the Mustang question by simply looking the other way, died in
1972. The heir apparent, Prince Birendra, was eager to improve relations with
China. He had made a trip to Beijing the year before and – now that he had
become king – wanted the Tibetans out of Mustang at all costs. By 1973, 20
percent of Nepal’s much-needed foreign aid was coming from Beijing. Finally,
toward the insistence of the Chinese, the young King Birendra publicly demanded
that the Mustang guerillas surrender or face the consequences.
One of the commanders under
General Wangdu, Tinzing Jyurme, described the Chushi-Gangdruk’s reaction in Mustang:
I had been up there since
1960. What would you do if you had spent the last twelve or thirteen years
freezing your ass off? We were ready to fight. We were willing to fight the
whole Nepalese army, if we had to. We weren’t afraid of the Nepalese, and they
knew it.
It was Wangdu who calmed
us down. He reminded us that there were many thousands of Tibetan refugees
living in Pokhara and Kathmandu – many were relatives of ours and all of them
were guests of the Nepalese government. And there were a lot of Nepalese who
weren’t very happy about our presence anyway. If we fought the Nepalese Army,
we would only create additional hardships for our families. We knew Wangdu was
right, but I also knew that Wangdu would never just give up.
Nevertheless, King
Birendra’s ultimatum was temporarily – quite literally – put on ice. A brutal
Mustang winter arrived, and the accompanying snowfall closed off passage into
and out of Mustang. Nothing could be done until the spring of 1974. But even
after the March and April thaws had cleared the mountain passes, Wangdu refused
to initiate surrender.
It is possible that he was
waiting for some cue from the Dalai Lama’s Government-in-Exile in Dharamsala,
India. It is equally possible – during that last, desolate winter – that he
made the decision to go out in glory rather than admit defeat. Over the last
fifteen years, Wangdu had experienced Tibet’s organized resistance being
squeezed and shoved around by every conceivable outside force: First they had
been pushed out of their own country by the PLA; then they had been refused
sanction while on Indian soil; then they were abandoned by the Americans
because, apparently, Nixon wanted to make friends with Wangdu’s mortal enemies,
the communists; then they had been betrayed by the vampiric Baba Gen Yeshi – a
Tibetan and, even worse, a fellow Khampa; and now, finally Wangdu’s army was
being evicted by the Nepalis. One thing was certain: Wangdu was a warrior. To
imagine Wangdu simply giving up and settling down in the pacific squalor of a
refugee camp was unthinkable.
On April 19, 1974, Lhamo
Tsering, a Tibetan who had acted as the go-between the Government-in-Exile and
the Mustang troops, was arrested by the police in Pokhara and jailed – to be
used as ransom – his life in exchange for Wangdu’s. After Lhamo’s arrest the
word went out: Anyone helping the Mustang rebels would now be treated as an
enemy of the Nepali government.
In May, Baba Gen Yeshi had a
meeting in Kathmandu with the brass of the Royal Army. He announced that he was
prepared to identify all the Mustang commanders and provide the army with exact
locations of the commanders’ respective magars. (Although the amount is debated, Baba Gen Yeshi was
rewarded substantially by the monarchy.) A week later, forty-eight of Baba Gen
Yeshi’s followers, acting as guides, led army officiers to Mustang and
instructed them where the magars
were located. [Note: the RNA officer in charge of the Tinker Pass operation was Brig. Gen. Aditya SJB Rana.]
Wangdu’s spies kept him
apprised of movement to the south, but, in the meantime, Wangdu’s scouts also
reported that a small contingent of Chinese troops had crossed into Mustang
from the north – dangerously close to where Tinzing Jyurme’s group had its
headquarters. Wangdu’s worst fear had become a reality: The Royal Army was now
working in concert with the PLA. To make matters worse, at Jomsom, the
southernmost town in Mustang, the Royal Army built a heliport, while ten
thousand troops marched up the Kali Gandaki Valley. It was a Sino-Nepali trap.
General Wangdu held an
emergency meeting. He told his commanders that they had no choice but to strike
a deal with the Nepalis before the PLA made their next move from the north.
They would surrender half of their weapons and ammunition on the condition that
the Nepalis released Lhamo Tsering, who was still in the Pokhara jail. Upon his
release, they would surrender the rest of their weapons. Two days later, half
the rebels surrendered their weapons in Jomsom. Wangdu waited for the news that
Lhamo Tsering had been freed. The news never came. The Nepalis reneged on their
half of the bargain.
In the meantime, the Dalai
Lama’s Government-in-Exile was being pressured by the Indians to intervene. The
Dalai Lama recorded a message on a tape recorder, which was then hand-delivered
to the Mustang resistance. From magar to magar, the rebels
heard the voice of the Dalai Lama asking them to put down their arms.
Tinzing Jyurme described the
rebel’s reaction:
Many of us cried when we
heard His Holiness’ words. In our hearts we couldn’t go against the Dalai
Lama’s wishes, but neither could we surrender after already losing so much.
Besides, if we surrendered, what would the Nepalese do to us? They had already
betrayed us over the release of Lhamo Tsering.
Rather than go against
the Dalai Lama, some of the guys committed suicide. Pachin, one of the five
commanders, cut his own throat. He did it with so much power that his head fell
off. Tsewang Gyapo, my personal secretary, also killed himself. He climbed up
to the top of an old rock building that was high above the river and just
jumped without saying anything to anyone. They wandered around crying, like
they didn’t even know where they were.
According to Tinzing Jyurme,
Wangdu was more afraid of Baba Gen Yeshi’s men than he was of the Royal Army or
the PLA: Wangdu knew that if he surrendered, the Nepalese would let Baba Gen
Yeshi’s men have their way with him. But I don’t want to give you the wrong
impression. At that point, I don’t think Wangdu cared if he lived or died. What
was really bothering him was that he had certain things he didn’t want the
Nepalese to get their hands on: an American wireless and important documents,
including ones that involved the CIA.
Roger E. McCarthy, the man
who created the CIA Tibetan Task Force later agreed with Tinzing Jyurme’s
explanation. McCarthy told me: “Wangdu did have key documents, including not
only records of the Mustang force, but names of those who had helped the
resistance efforts in various ways, plus financial records…Wangdu was intent
upon reaching India with this valuable cargo. That was his main motivation for
making a run for it. He was not the kind of man to concern himself with
personal safety. He sure as hell was not afraid to fight the Chinese nor, for
that matter, anyone.”
Wangdu sent most of the
remaining troops to Jomsom, which he hoped would stall the army long enough so
that he could escape to India. He and a small contingent of his closet
followers headed west on horseback. It was mountainous and hard riding. On the
thirteenth day of his escape, some Nepalis spied him on the move in Dolpo. The
news was radioed to Jomsom. Thus, the Royal Army knew he was headed west.
By late August, Wangdu and
his men had reached Jumla. In the interim, flight had been hellish. His route
darted back and forth over the Tibetan border, including several skirmishes
with small units of PLA. At one point, Wangdu pulled up short at a spot
overlooking a large Chinese encampment: He was forced to backtrack deep into
the Nepali mountains, which cost him time he could ill afford to lose. He and
his men had ridden hard the whole way, and his men were near exhaustion.
But in late August, the end
was in sight. Wangdu had one last mountain pass to cross: Tinker-La. On the
other side was India.
What Wangdu didn’t know was
that he was riding into a trap. The Royal Army had correctly intuited that
Tinker’s Pass would be Wangdu’s choice for escape. They had set up a large
ambush group toward the summit of Tinker-La.
About a mile from the pass, Wangdu’s men requested to
stretch their legs before making the final ascent. Wangdu allowed most of them
to dismount, but he took six men with him in search of forage and water for the
horses. The men who were left behind watched their leader disappear over a
small rise. A few seconds later, they heard gunfire. Without saying a word,
they remounted and galloped toward the shooting. They got to the crest of hill
just in time to see that all of Wangdu’s men were down and that Wangdu – the
only one still on horseback – was charging straight into enemy fire.
Wangdu was shot off his horse. His horse continued to gallop
without him. Firefights between the Royal Army and the remaining rebels
continued throughout the day. Sixteen Tibetans circled around the army and
managed to scale Tinker-La from a different direction, where a recess in the
mountain hid them from view.
A helicopter was dropped in. Wangdu’s body was identified
and flown back to Kathmandu.
Tinzing Jyurme recounts the rest:
King Birendra made a big show of his army’s victory.
Right in the center of Kathmandu, he set up a large tent so that the public
could see what the Royal Army had done. He had all of Wangdu’s personal effects
spread out on tables: his rings, his wristwatch, his gua, his sword, his rifle,
the wireless, some personal photographs he had carried with him – everything.
But the big prize was Wangdu himself. The king had his
corpse put on display. Thousands of Nepalese came and filed by his mutilated
body – this went on for several days before the stench got so bad that they had
to close down the show.
Tinzing Jyurme, Lhamo Tsering and five other captured
leaders were jailed for the next seven years.
Across town, Baba Gen Yeshi settled into a life of urban
comfort, surrounded by a score of ex-rebels who catered to his every need. His
business ventures thrived. He even created a little museum open to the public,
which housed first-rate Tibetan artifacts. Tibetan refugees could go in and
revisited possessions that had once been theirs.
The Tibetan resistance was over.
From Mikel Dunham’s Buddha’s Warriors
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