Bafna shook his head after a few seconds of consideration. The PM then looked around his war cabinet: “what will it take for Islamabad or Rawalpindi or whoever is in charge over there, to talk peace? Can we give them something, anything, to avoid war?”
“I suppose,” Basu noted in frustration, “if we surrender Kashmir and put down our arms in front of their tanks, it might get them to reconsider chopping our heads off.”
He got a piercing glare from the PM and Bafna stood up from his chair: “how dare you show disrespect for this country’s prime-minister!” Somehow, under the circumstances, the outburst rang hollow in the room. Basu was long past the mental inhibitions that held him to this particular government. When the strike on Mumbai had unfolded, he had decided right then that this time the perpetrators would not be allowed to escape. If war was the medium to deliver on that promise, so be it. After all, what was that saying about nations who could not summon the guts to push back when blatantly instigated?
In this he was not alone. Pakistan was being driven to war by its jihadist momentum. There was no way to stop that ball from rolling. But the Indian response was paralyzed by the top leadership’s inability to face this new threat head on. The PM’s inability to make his stand for his nation was no longer of concern. The war was already in motion. And the service chiefs, RAW and others in the cabinet had surmised the same.
But what was needed was what was known as the “higher-direction-for-war”. Without planning a clean outcome of a war, the end result was always a bloody slugfest of attrition battles with no clear winner. The Pakistani army was no pushover. Propped up by irregular mujahedeen and other mercenaries, and aided by the Indian losses in the China war, the balance of forces was more in Pakistan’s favor than what the Indian military would have liked. And like sharks sensing blood, the Pakistani Generals were pushing for a fight…
“You see these tanks, Bafna?” Basu said, holding up the satellite imagery taken just hours before. “Where do you think these are headed? Hmm? Do you think Islamabad is looking for a peaceful resolution here?!”
There was no arguing the evidence, and Bafna had no response that could override the facts. Basu moved in for the kilclass="underline" “when these armored columns go over the border on a time and place of Pakistan’s choosing, I would love to hear from you about my supposed insolence in this room. In the meantime, we have a war on our hands!”
The PM bypassed any defense of his senior party member and left-hand man, and turned to Potgam: “what is our readiness to handle a Pakistani attack?”
“We are getting there,” Potgam said. “But there is no strategic advantage to be had now. They have been mobilizing across the board for a week. And we are only now responding. We can probably match them at the border with air-strikes to slow down their preparations. I suspect they will attempt to do the same to us soon. Apart from defeating the momentum of their army, we need to know the larger objective here if we want to ensure that this doesn’t turn into a quagmire.”
“What do you recommend, General?” Bafna asked.
“That, sir,” Potgam said flatly, “is your job.”
The room was silent for several seconds. Ravoof looked around and saw that the PM and the Bafna had missed the obvious objectives of any military action against Pakistan under the current circumstances. It surprised him no end that he, of all people, had to remind them about it…
“I would imagine,” Ravoof noted finally, “that one of the objectives should be to capture or kill the senior ISI leaders behind the Mumbai strike.”
“General Haider?” Bafna asked, surprised.
“Of course.” Ravoof replied.
“Can we even do that?” The PM asked. All eyes turned to Basu, who was just as surprised at how Ravoof had seemingly gotten him legitimate orders for something that he was already prepared to do without orders.
“We can.” Basu replied after a few seconds. “We are keeping a close eye on Haider. He and his men are organizing the jihadist units into combat groups in Lahore. At least, that’s what we think he is doing. The other ISI commanders will need more effort to locate. They will most certainly be embedded with General Hussein.”
“And how do we propose to eliminate these men?” Bafna asked.
“We send a few precision-strike cruise missiles into their command centers!” Potgam replied sharply, causing Basu to turn around and face the Army commander.
“Or,” Basu added, “we send in a special-warfare team to grab Haider in Lahore and bring him back here, alive.”
“Inside Lahore?” Potgam thundered. “Have you lost your mind? I am not sending my men that deep behind enemy lines to try and capture that man! A missile strike is clean and precise…”
“…but for which we won’t know exactly where the target is!” Basu interjected. “Look, you need eyes on the ground regardless. Once we locate the bastard, you can take him out with a goddamned missile! Or half dozen missiles for that matter!”
“Also,” Ravoof added, “bringing someone like Haider on trial, alive, has its own merits! He should be tried as a war-criminal, not a martyr!”
“These are semantics I can ill afford to delve into, sir!” Potgam replied. His voice had that effect of dominating a room that few in his posts before him had managed in a long time. “This is a war we are talking about, not a public court!”
The PM leaned back in his chair: “General, I want this man Haider to pay for his crimes. Find him. Capture him if you can. But kill him only if there is no other choice. I want his head on a platter for what he has done.”
“Sir,” Potgam continued his lonely battle, “you do understand that Haider is a Leftenant-General in their army? He is not likely to work alone on anything. At the very least, he had the blessing of Hussein and other commanders at Rawalpindi. You know where that buck stops! They won’t let him be taken alive!”
“You might be surprised at what we can do, General.” Basu noted neutrally. Potgam shot him a glance but said nothing. He knew what Basu was referring to.
“Very well.” Potgam said in concession. “I can see when the decision has already been made. You gentlemen can bring your plans to me on Haider when you have them. In the meantime, I have an enemy to fight at the border! But I warn you now: plans to kill or capture Haider that depend on allocation of precious military resources under my command leaves me with the final veto authority. If I see a senseless or reckless plan involving capturing that bastard, I will choose to lob a few missiles and kill the bastard rather than risk my men. Is that acceptable to you all?”
“Understood, Warlord,” the PM nodded politely. “That was your call-sign in Bhutan, yes?”
Potgam smiled as he got up from his desk:
“It still is, sir!”
20
The fog made things impossible to see. Visibility was down to near-zero. And what should have been a short flight by helicopter had devolved into a long, bumpy ride by truck convoy…