He looked at his headquarters down the slope, a few hundred yards from him.
What used to be my headquarters anyway… he corrected himself as he saw other soldiers further down writhing in pain and screaming for help. Others staggered around looking for their comrades.
He was lucky and he knew it. Had he not been away inspecting the ridges east of the village when the Indian artillery rockets had rained down on his headquarters, he might have been scattered all over the slope like the rest of his men here.
How did they locate it so efficiently?
He did not have time to answer that one. He heard the distant rumble of whipping noises that seemed very familiar to him. Of course they did. They were made by Mi-17 helicopters. He looked around and saw his men running around, grabbing their weapons. His mind ran through the analysis.
Approaching Mi-17s! Friendly?
He looked to the west towards the silhouetted eastern slopes of the Chomolhari and realized that the whipping noises did not emanate from the west, where friendly forces were in the Chumbi valley.
And that meant only one thing…
He saw the first Indian Mi-17V5 helicopter appear as it cleared the ridgeline behind and above him to the east and flared for a landing a few hundred meters away. Followed by more.
He looked around for his personal sidearm and didn’t find it anywhere in the snow. He did see the body of his radioman lying in a pool of red blood soaking into the powdery white snow a few meters away. He dived towards the man and took his QBZ-95 assault-rifle, checking its ammo clip.
By this time the first gunfire noises were filling the air. He saw soldiers and surviving officers from his headquarters grabbing their rifles and ordering men to head east and create a line of defense against the attacking Indian paratroopers…
He tucked the rifle into his shoulder and checked the sights. They were operational. He then turned the body of his radioman over to see a horrid scene. The man’s chest was ripped open by rocket shrapnel and still smoldering from it. He winced and checked the soldier’s harness for ammunition clips. He found two.
That will have to do!
He forced himself to his feet just as the Indian Mi-17s began lifting off from the east and were climbing back up the slope. They were trying to get out of the line of fire as quickly as they could. And sure enough, they were taking fire as yellow flashes of tracers were flying into the air around them, some hitting the gray painted fuselages with distinct snags. He threw out an expletive, brought up his rifle to shoulder level, tugged it in and fired three-round bursts at the closest of the departing helicopters. He aimed for the cockpit and kept firing bursts until he saw the starboard cockpit glass of the helicopter shatter into pieces. His rifle chamber clacked metal on metal, telling him that he was out of rounds in that clip…
To his satisfaction he saw the helicopter veering west towards him. The sunlight shined across the shattered cockpit glass, now smattered red with blood from one of the crew members slumped in his seat. The PLA Major-General realized he must have hit the co-pilot and perhaps even the pilot. The helicopter leapt above his head a few seconds later amidst a roar of its blades and its shadow went over him.
He slapped a second clip into his rifle and dropped the first in the snow near his feet, keeping his eyes fixed on the Indian helicopter west of him now.
But he flinched from the flash of light as a surface-to-air missile streaked up from the valley below and slammed into the port engine of the Mi-17. The jarring explosion ripped the engine section apart and the main rotors immediately lost power. The front of the helicopter slammed into the snow covered rocks and fell down on the slope with a thud. It shook violently amongst the rocks and then flipped over. The Highland Division commander smiled as he saw the helicopter wreck rolling down the slope towards the village of Barshong below.
A small victory in all this mess!
Two of his soldiers ran up to him and knelt beside him, covering him with their rifles. He looked around and tried to make sense of the ground battle now taking place to his east between the survivors of his headquarters and the Indian paratroopers. But it was a lost battle and he realized it. His experienced ears picked up the course of the battle from the gunfire noises. He ordered his men to move out towards it.
They ran down the slope past the blazing tree trunks and smoldering black craters dug out of the snow by the rockets. He saw about two dozen or so scattered PLA soldiers from his unit fighting in twos and threes behind rocks near the destroyed headquarter bunkers. To the east he saw dozens of Indian paratroopers advancing tactically as they eliminated the still-dazed PLA opposition on the hilltop.
He was about to shout his first orders when one of the soldiers next to him shrieked and fell forward into the snow. The General saw a bullet hole ripped into his back as blood poured out. He turned around and saw what looked like ten men or so moving down the ridge from the west, silhouetted by the setting sun behind them. One of the men’s optics glinted in the light and the General realized they were taking fire from their rear.
He brought up his rifle to aim but an enemy bullet ripped through his arm. Other rifle sounds from the nine enemy soldiers filled the air and threw up snow all around him. He turned and saw his arm bleeding profusely as the pain shot up to his head. He cursed and that turned out to be his last breath as another bullet caught him in the neck and exited from the back. His body slumped into the snow with a thud…
…Tarun lowered his Dragunov sniper rifle and looked above its optics to see the two bodies in the snow, a few hundred meters east.
“Looks like I got myself somebody important!” he exclaimed over the gunfire as Spear team got into the assault on Barshong.
“No shit! You want to keep firing though!” Vikram shouted from a dozen meters away as he took cover behind a boulder and removed another clip from his harness chest pocket after dropping the first one from his Tavor rifle.
“Spear! Keep up the advance!” Pathanya shouted over the team’s comms and ran a few dozen feet down the slope to another rocky cover position. A handful of PLA survivors near the headquarters started returning fire and bullets began ricocheting around nearby rocks.
The Indian paratroopers of the 11TH Para-SF Battalion under Colonel Misra had landed behind enemy ridgeline defenses east of Barshong on air-force Mi-17s. They had arrived just behind the rocket artillery barrage from Lieutenant-Colonel Fernandez’s Pinaka unit at Paru. That barrage had eliminated a good portion of the PLA Highland Division headquarters seconds before the assault.
But now they had to move fast and secure Barshong before the three hundred PLA soldiers on the eastern ridges realized that they had been bypassed and began arriving in force here…
Pathanya looked up and saw the sunlight from the west glinting off the Searcher-II UAV overhead in the blue sky. He removed the SATCOM radio speaker from his chest harness and pushed it under his boonie-hat to his ears:
“Warlord, this is Spear-One! Do you copy? Over?”
“Roger, Spear. We copy all.” Joint-Force-Bhutan headquarters chimed back on the radio.
“Spear has successfully bypassed enemy defenses and is at objective Bravo! Main force has arrived and is rolling in. We confirm loss of one of our birds. We need you to initiate bombardment of eastern ridge and suppress enemy positions! Over!”
Pathanya put the speaker back into its slot in the harness and looked around. Vikram, Tarun, Sarvanan, Ravi and the others were already past his position and were advancing under steadily reducing fire from the PLA positions. He saw the paratroopers overrunning the enemy headquarters and taking no prisoners. Soon the sounds of Chinese QBZ-95 rifles were subsiding…