Trees, Tanks… and the Hierarchy of Shade!

There is something wonderfully ironic about life in an Armoured Division of the Indian Army! You command machines of steel weighing tons…You practice manoeuvres that decide victory and defeat…You train in the most unforgiving heat nature can throw at you…

And yet, in the end, your fate often depends on one humble thing — a tree.

Into the Desert Furnace – Exercise in an Armoured Division!

As a young Lieutenant posted to 31 Armoured Divisional Signal Regiment, I discovered this truth the hard way.

Armoured Corps exercises don’t happen in pleasant weather. They happen in peak North Indian summer — when temperatures can soar to 50 degrees, and the wind feels like a giant hair dryer. There’s a reason for this. Tanks require vast open spaces to manoeuvre, and in May and June, fields fall silent as agriculture pauses.

That’s when these fields become ours.

Inside the tank or Armoured Personnel Carrier, it felt like sitting inside a furnace. You could almost fry an omelette on the metal surface. But we didn’t complain. This was the life we signed up for — demanding, rugged, deeply satisfying. And somewhere inside, there was pride — because only a tankman truly understands what “heat” means.

The Most Important Instruction

On one such exercise, I was appointed Advance Party Commander — responsible for moving ahead and preparing the camp location for the regiment.

I expected instructions to start with tactical positioning…
Radio layout…
Logistics…
Deployment maps…

Instead, I was first told something beautifully simple and followed by others…….

“Find the biggest tree.”

For a moment, I was genuinely bewildered.

Biggest… tree?
Not the best ground?
Not concealment?
Not tactical advantage?

Just the largest tree.

And then I discovered why.

The biggest tree was reserved for the Commanding Officer’s caravan. And from there, shade flowed strictly down the chain of command. Seniority determined greenery. Leadership came with leaves.

Hierarchy in the army is structured, disciplined…
and sometimes… wonderfully leafy!

The Great Tree Allocation Ceremony

What followed was an unspoken ritual.

The next senior officer, the Second-in-Command, got the second-largest tree.
The next one, the third biggest.
And so on.

Efficient. Logical. Undisputed.

And deeply amusing.

Because as the list progressed downwards, the trees became:

• smaller,
• thinner,
• more symbolic than useful…

And by the time it reached us, young officers like me?

The trees quietly disappeared from the landscape altogether.

We pitched our tents under the vast open sky — fully exposed to the blazing desert sun — while senior tents enjoyed peaceful, dignified shade.

Meanwhile, the Commanding Officer enjoyed the grandest canopy of all!

The only solace was that the Officers’ Mess too was under a big, generous tree — where at least for a while, everyone found common shade and shared laughter.

Burnt in the Tank… and Then Burnt Outside

Here lay the real comedy.

After spending the day inside a tank — roasting, sweating, cooking slowly like potatoes in a pressure cooker — you emerged dreaming of relief.

In civilian life, that means fans, shade and cold drinks.

In field life?

It meant standing in the blazing sun again… because your tent had no tree!

But
We developed character… and a deep, lifelong respect for trees!

But Here’s the Truth…

We laughed about it then.
We laugh about it now.

Because secretly… we loved it.

We loved the absurdity.
We loved the unwritten traditions.
We loved the unspoken humour of hierarchy.

Those scorching afternoons were:

• full of jokes,
• shared hardship,
• strong camaraderie,
• and a strange sense of pride.

The shade we lacked was replaced by something far better — the bond of being together at the bottom of the ladder, dreaming of the day we might one day “earn” our tree.

And when you finally got one later in your career…

You remembered the days you didn’t.

That’s how the Fauj teaches humility — sometimes gently, sometimes humorously, and occasionally with the help of a fully grown neem tree.

A Smile That Belongs Only to Those Who Lived It

Even today, when I think of those exercises, I don’t remember the discomfort first. This remains one of my most cherished memories from life in an Indian Army Armoured Division.

I remember laughter.
I remember ridiculous sunburns.
I remember standing with fellow young officers and saying:

“One day, my friend… one day, that tree will be mine.”

And that is what Life in Uniform really is.

Hardship with humour.
Hierarchy with humanity.
Heat with heart.

And always… always…
a story worth telling.

Note: Images in this story are AI-generated and are used only for illustrative purposes. They are not actual historical photographs.

Have a story to share?

Every Fauji carries memories — inspiring, humorous, and deeply personal.
This is your space to share them with the world. If you or someone you know has lived life in uniform, we invite you to contribute to Fauji Tales.

Click this for more details

Thank you for reading this story on Fauji Tales.
If it moved you, inspired you, or reminded you of someone who has worn the uniform with pride, please share it with others.