became a legend Lieutenant Vikram Batra had to complete his mission successfully. Pakistani invaders had taken positions in bunkers at a height of 17,000 feet on Peak 5140 in Jammu and Kashmir. Lieutenant Batra and Captain Sanjeev Jamwal -- both from the Kangra valley in Himachal Pradesh -- were ordered to recaptur e the peak on the night of June 19, 1999, about five weeks after the Kargil war began. The operation was much too dangerous to be carried out during the day. Aware of the enemy's vantage point, Lt Batra -- who was later promoted to captain on the battlefield -- decided to attack the enemy from the rear. Peak 5140, the highest point on the Tololing Ridge, was one of the most arduous and crucial peaks in the Drass region. If it fell, it would clear the Pakistanis from that sector and pave the way for further victories. He knew they had to win. Captain Vikram Batra in the Drass sector It was dark and cold. The men crawled, quietly. Batra, who had earned an instructor's grade as a commando, was determined not to lose any men. He was deeply upset when a terrorist's bullet meant for him had struck his man behind him during his first posting in the terrorist-prone region of Sopore in Jammu and Kashmir. 'Didi, it was meant for me and I lost my man,' he had told his elder sister over the phone. But tonight his guide was the framed motto of the Indian Military Academy, Dehra Dun, that he had brought home to Palampur, Himachal Pradesh, at the end of his training. The safety, honor and welfare of your country come first always and everytime. The honor, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next. Your own ease, comfort and safety come last, always and everytime. The motto had been molded into his heart as a Gentleman Cadet. There was no better time to live by it than now -- when India was at war and he, in his first major battle. 24-year-old Vikram and his men assaulted the enemy. The camp was routed, many enemy soldiers killed and 13 J&K Rifles won a decisive victory. All his men had made it alive. Vikram was elated. ' Yeh Dil Maangey More ' -- the Pepsi catchline those days -- he told his commander at base camp. His words became the catchline for the Kargil war. Vikram Batra had led a brilliant operation in one of India's toughest campaigns in mountain warfare. His men swore by him. General Ved Prakash Malik, then the Chief of the Army Staff, called to congratulate him. His triumph was being beamed from television screens across the country. Photographs of him and his men striding the captured Pakistani gun at the base camp made it to every newspaper. In a time of war, he became the face of the young Indian soldier who fought ferociously and died fearlessly. His code name was Sher Shah. The other soldier India knew with the same name had lived in the Middle Ages and was called 'The Lion King.' Sher Shah Suri was an accomplished commander who defeated the Mughal emperor Humayun and sat on the throne of Delhi for five years. Vikram Batra was the hero of the nation. Two weeks after his conquest of 5140, people would remember him as the Lion of Kargil. Daddy, I've captured.' G L Batra can never forget that phone call that June morning. Vikram's voice was cracking through the satellite phone. He was talking too fast and wasn't clear at all. For a moment, he thought his son was captured. But the school principal knew it was preposterous to think that he would be allowed to call his parents if he were a prisoner of war. Yet he was frightened and asked Vikram to speak clearly. 'Oh Daddy, I've captured the enemy's post. I'm OK, I'm OK.' 'Bete [son], I'm proud of you,' replied Mr Batra, 'may God bless you to carry on your task there.' It was the happiest moment of his life. He had named his son 'Vikram' because the name spelled character and strength and he had lived up to it. It was the morning of June 20, 1999. Through the previous night Vikram had commanded a daring operation and his father reveled in his accomplishment. The capture of 5140 would finally lead to the decisive fall of Tiger Hill, and to India's eventual victory. Nine days later, Vikram called from base camp. He was leaving for another crucial operation. He never called again. G L Batra in the office at the petrol pump awarded by the government in Vikram's honour G L Batra and his wife Kamal saw glimpses of their son on television. He looked different with his beard and camouflaged jacket. Like always, he was brimming with confidence and his spirit was soaring. Like always, that smile never left his face. Mrs Batra's heart had lurched when Vikram called to tell her that his unit was being sent to the Kargil front. The last war India had fought was in 1971, three years before Vikram and his twin, Vishal, were born. He was just 24, had served in the Indian Army for only 18 months -- what if… She quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. If all mothers were to think that their children shouldn't join the army, who would protect this vast nation? When she heard that he had captured his first peak it was as if she had won. She had lived most of her life in the lap of the Dhauladhar mountains in Palampur. She saw the mountains each day and knew them as invincible. Now her son was telling her that he had captured a perilous peak like the Dhauladhar, maybe even higher. She felt proud like only a mother could be. G L and Kamal Batra at their home in Palampur Vikram you are going for another crucial operation, what are your thoughts at this moment?' Mr Batra watched his son on the evening news when the television reporter questioned him at the base camp. Over the past few days, the school principal had tried to catch a glimpse of his son after he came home every day. But that day something about Vikram left him uneasy. 'I wish the families of the deceased soldiers are looked after well by the government and society,' Vikram replied and turned his face from the camera. Sitting in his home, hundreds of miles away, Mr Batra read the facial expressions of his son and instantly knew what was going on in his mind. Vikram doubted his return, Mr Batra thought. This time, the father turned away from the television screen and broke down. His wife asked him why he had suddenly become so sad. He did not have the courage to tell her what he felt. At that moment he knew their son wasn't coming back. Kamal Batra with a picture of Vikram. His cap and the Indian flag that had wrapped his body is kept in front. The last time Vikram was home with his family in Palampur was during the Holi festival in 1999. He had got leave for a few days and his mother pampered him with the goodies he liked best -- pakoda s, home made potato chips and mango pickle. Like the ritual he followed on each visit, he went to the Neugal Café, a Palampur eatery by the Neugal river, for a coffee and met an acquaintance who spoke about the war. 'The war has begun, who knows when you will be asked to go, you better be careful.' 'Don't worry, Vikram told him,' remembers Mr Batra, 'I'll either come back after raising the Indian flag in victory or return wrapped in it.' Before Mr and Mrs Batra knew, Vikram's holiday was over and they were at the bus stop seeing him off. The mango pickle and potato chips were packed in his bag for him and his friends in Sopore. His unit had received orders to move to Shahjahanpur in Uttar Pradesh but the war altered their deployment and Vikram was deputed to report for duty in Kargil on June 1, 1999. He informed his parents, asked them not to worry and called them at least once in ten days. He made his last phone call on June 29. He asked about everyone in the family. His elder sisters Neetu didi and Seema didi . His twin, whom he fondly called 'Kushli.' She was relieved to hear Vikram say: 'Mommy, ek dum fit hoon, fikar mat karna [I'm absolutely fine. Don't you worry.] That was the last time he spoke to her. Vikram Batra would have joined the Merchant Navy. He was to join the ship in Hong Kong. His uniform had been stitched, his tickets booked. But he changed his mind. A decade later, his decision would become the opening line of an Indian Oil print campaign. The public sector company paid tribute to the Kargil hero and lauded him for rejecting a lucrative career for the service of the nation. 'Sometimes an ordinary Indian can make a Rs 120,000 crore company feel humble. For every step we take, there's an inspired Indian leading the way,' read the ad copy, alongside a black- and-white etching of Captain Batra. A framed picture of the text hangs in the petrol pump awarded in his honour to his parents.