It was in the early hours of November 3 when a warning bell went off inside the central jail in the heart of Dhaka city. As dawn approached, a sense of deepening fear engulfed the indoors of the new jail. It was home to the most important political figures of Bangladesh at that time: Syed Nazrul Islam, acting president of Bangladesh during the Liberation War and later the industries minister in Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman's cabinet; Tajuddin Ahmed, former prime minister of Bangladesh; Captain (retd) M Mansur Ali, prime minister of the country following the formation of Baksal, and AHM Qamaruzzaman, president of the Awami League under Baksal. They were accompanied by a large number of political prisoners too—around 50. They were all housed in one building consisting of three large rooms known as the new jail. In the first room lived Tajuddin and Syed Nazrul, with others. In the middle room was Qamaruzzaman, and in the third one lived Mansur Ali.

I was arrested and placed in the new jail, but in a different building. It was a newly constructed building called the "Ninety Cells," purported to accommodate important prisoners. Only the ground floor of the building had been completed.

I was put in room number one of the so-called "Ninety Cells." In the room to my left, Sergeant Kibria and Dulu were placed. Only a five-inch wall separated us, but the veranda allowed us space to move about during the daytime. However, after the dusk shutdown and lock-up, we could communicate as everyone was within a hearing distance. My room was exactly on the opposite side of room number one in the main building. The wall-to-wall distance could not have been more than 10 feet, with a small road in between the buildings. The front of the main building faced the back of ours, so we were well within the hearing range. Moreover, there was a hole on the wall in our toilet; with a bit of manoeuvring, we could take a peek outside.

At around 3am, the awful "dong-dong" of the warning bell shattered the night silence, much to the consternation and bafflement of the prisoners. We didn't yet know that an incomprehensibly brutal act of violence—the staging of a reprehensible savagery that was beyond anyone's wildest imagination—was about to transpire at the most secure place in the city.

We heard the sound of a large gathering of people outside. The voice of the jailer, Aminur Rahman, was clear; he appeared to be directing everyone to open the gates. We could hear a lot of movement and people discussing moving the inmates from different rooms. Aminur Rahman himself guided the inmates of room number one to the next room, leaving behind Syed Nazrul and Tajuddin. He also collected Qamaruzzaman from the second room, and Mansur Ali from the third room. The two rooms were locked again, but the first room was left open. To keep their peace of mind, the jailer informed the four leaders that some important representatives of the Mostaq government were going to visit them to discuss political issues, and that they were expected to arrive any moment.

In the meantime, the killers had already reached the jail gate, had a heated exchange with the jail authority, including the DIG prisons, over permission to enter the jail at that time. The killers were told that entering the jail at odd hours was prohibited, so they sought the intervention of Khondaker Mostaq Ahmad, who had positioned himself as the president of the country. Mostaq directed the jail authority to allow the killers to enter the jail and do their job. While this exchange of words was taking place, the officials of the jail were abused.

With the permission of the president himself, the contingent of killers, clad in black uniforms, entered the jail premises stealthily and hid in the shadows.

In the meantime, after the rearrangement of inmates among the rooms had been done, Aminur Rahman and his large team left. Soon afterwards, I heard the loud sound of a group of people doing a double march. They entered the open veranda of room number one, where the four leaders were waiting, and opened fire at point blank range. The bullets hit them straight, some ricocheting, missing the targets and hitting the walls. I heard Tajuddin exclaim, "Hey! What are you doing?" That was the last words I heard from him before he was shot, falling on his side on the cot. Syed Nazrul, already shot, fell on his front, while Mansur dived under the cot to save himself. He survived the attack, and as soon as the killers left, we heard him crying for help. "Pani, pani!" he asked for water.

The killings were done with automatic machine guns, within minutes. I recognised the weapons because I had used them in the battlefield against the Pakistan Army during the war. For a few long moments, I remained frozen, afraid to make the slightest of noise, lest the killers heard and came back to kill us. But we had not seen the last of this inhuman savagery yet. Hearing the groaning cry for help and water, one of the prison guards ran to the jail gate and informed the killers that some of the leaders were still alive. Upon hearing this, the brutal band of rogues returned in double march, this time with bayonets fitted to their weapons, entered the room, and bayoneted them all. The gruesome sounds of bayonets slicing through their bodies were gut-wrenching. Ensuring the physical elimination of the leaders of the country's struggle for independence, the rogues returned in a double march towards the gate. While leaving, I heard one of the killers say, "Hamid, be quick."

In the meantime, one of the prison guards, most probably Motaleb, came to my cell and said, "Sir, all four are finished." As far as I can recall, Motaleb was the guard who ran to the killers to inform them that the leaders were not all dead yet.

Later in the day, around mid-afternoon, one of my brothers came to visit me at the jail gate. My relatives and siblings had been informed that I had been killed in jail as well, and he came to the jail to verify that information, managing permission from EA Chowdhury, the then DIG of Special Branch. On his arrival, I was escorted to the gate by Motaleb.

After speaking to my brother, on my way back to my room, I went straight to the dead bodies of our leaders. They were lying in utter disrespect. Offering a silent prayer, I went to one of the other rooms, where other leaders like Maya and Amu Bhai were waiting. Seeing them, I burst into tears, and so did they; separated by the bars, we could not comfort each other.

Around 11am the next day, Additional SP Abdus Salam came to the jail for post-mortem supervision. He was followed by ADC Dhaka Akmal Hussain. He was my batch mate from our Dhaka University days. He was also the private secretary to Captain Mansur Ali during the latter's stint as home minister. When he appeared in front of my room, we shook hands, then started crying. We could not embrace each other as the prison bars separated us. After a long exchange of words of comfort and deliberation, he left to attend his call of duty.

After the autopsies and other formalities, the dead bodies were taken out of jail after sunset and subsequently buried.

By now it is well-known that the assassinations of Bangabandhu and his family members and the four national leaders, as well as the killings of patriotic armed personnel like Brig Khaled Mosharraf, Bir Uttom, Col Nazmul Huda, Bir Bikram, and Major Haider, Bir Uttom, were all deeply connected to the losing side of the Liberation War. The entire gamut of conspiracies was hatched by the anti-liberation forces. They were afraid of Sheikh Mujib, who succeeded in liberating Bangladesh in spite of the deployment of all imperialist forces against him. In the initial killing spree, the conspirators thought they had succeeded, but time has proven that they failed.

Mahbub Uddin Ahmed, Bir Bikram, was a freedom fighter during the Liberation War of Bangladesh.