“We are combating savages!” Another officer noted from a corner of the room. “Let them use their nuclear card! These motherfuckers tried to desrtoy Mumbai and kill millions of my countrymen! We will roll over them!”
“That’s quite enough, gentlemen.” Kulkarni said, bringing the chatter to a halt. He had been quite aware of the low morale amongst many of his men for some time now. Especially those with family or relatives in Mumbai who had been displaced, missing or had been killed in the chaotic aftermath of the tsunami that have struck Mumbai from the offshore nuclear explosion. This was as good a time as any to remind his men of the rules of engagement:
“I want zero screw-ups once we roll over. We will engage and destroy legitimate Pakistani forces without remorse or regard. But once we reach civilian areas, I want the utmost care and restraint in what you shoot at. I want no revenge attacks! Is that understood?”
He got a near-unanimous “sir!” from the group. Only time would tell how that order would pan out. He looked at his wristwatch: “we have a two hours before we jump off. Get your men kitted out and your tanks ready. Dismissed!”
The silence of the room was replaced with the rustle of men as they got up and talked to each other. Kulkarni watched them leave and wondered how many of these men he would bring back, alive.
Pathanya looked at the heavy backpack he had put together and sighed. It weighed more than him. And that didn’t even include his rifle or the shoulder and thigh-strapped equipment.
Just get on with it already… He told himself and leaned over to pick up the heavy backpack. He lifted it with a grunt and lofted it over his back. He then picked up his favorite boonie hat and fitted it snugly over his head. The INSAS rifle with the under-barrel-grenade-launcher was leaning on the nearby wooden crates. That was one of the last things he picked up. Until now the magazine had been stowed separate from the rifle for safety reasons. He picked the rifle up and slapped the magazine in but made sure the safety was off. Bringing it up to shoulder level, the red-dot sight came up in front of his retinas. All good.
When he stepped outside the tent, he found Vikram, Kamidalla and the rest of the pathfinders lined up and waiting. Vikram had his single-ocular night-scope tilted on its hinge above his head. Kamidalla was armed with his preferred Dragunov scoped-rifle whilst the others had a variety of arms with them suited for their specific role. Pathanya nodded approval and waved to the drop-zone in the open field past the tents. The clearing had been leveled by the army engineers with their bulldozers and was now serving as the helipad for the Paras deployed here. Right now it was empty except for two men in berets. Pathanya immediately recognized them both.
“Pathfinder good to go, major?” Ansari asked.
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Excellent.” Ansari checked his wristwatch: “panther is inbound.” Pathanya nodded. Jagat had taken them into Deosai in Pakistani-occupied-Kashmir when they had apprehended Muzammil and eliminated his top lieutenants. Now he was to take them into Pakistan proper. Pathanya could not think of a better man for the job.
The whipping noise of the helicopter rotors filled the air. Pathanya and the others saw three Dhruv helicopters approaching low from the east. Ansari looked at Gephel who kept his peace. Ansari walked past the pathfinders, holding on to his beret in the rotor downwash. Gephel patted Pathanya on the shoulder as he walked by. No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be.
As the helicopters landed on the muddy clearing, Pathanya saw Jagat in the cockpit. He turned to his team and waved them forward. He patted Kamidalla and waved to the second helicopter. He did the same to Vikram and pointed to the third. He headed to Jagat’s bird. Boarding through the side-door, he stowed his backpack inside. A minute later the whine of the rotors increased and the three helicopters of Panther flight dusted off and headed west into Pakistan.
23
Haider patted the shoulder of the driver sitting next to him, gesturing him to stop. The vehicle, and three others behind them, came to a skidding stop on the tar road heading into Lahore. He opened the door and stomped out, angrily slamming the door behind him. His adjutant, Major Akram, and other soldiers from his security detail looked at each other for a brief second and then jumped out from either side of the vehicles, running after their General.
Haider walked up to a soldier walking to him, silhouetted against the blazing orange-yellow fires in the fields behind. As Haider approached the soldier, he noticed the man’s uniforms were in rags, and blood splattered over his arms. The man walked as though in a daze.
“Good god!” Haider said as the man collapsed in front of him. He ran over and helped the wounded soldier to sit up. Akram ran over and knelt beside the soldier as Haider tried to get the soldier to spit out the blood in his mouth and try to breathe. “What’s your name? What unit do you belong to? Speak up!”
The man mumbled something incoherent before slipping away in his hands. His body had given in. Haider lowered the body on the road and stood up, straightening his digital-camo uniform and sidearm holster. He looked at the blazing tower of flames and smoke to the east. He could make out the charred wreckage of what looked like command trailers and trucks…
“Akram!” Haider thundered. “Find out what unit this man belonged to. And find out what unit that command center belonged to. Looks like a Brigade H-Q based on the type of vehicles, doesn’t it?”
Akram walked over to Haider’s side and saw the blazing fires. He noticed the nearly circular line of fires in the cultivated fields around the vehicles. There was no doubt in his head what had happened here.
“Cruise-missile strike, sir. The Indians decimated this brigade command post. We should report this!”
“Get to it!” Haider ordered.
“Yes sir.” Akram ran back to the parked vehicles. One of the other soldiers walked over to Haider with something in his hands. Haider took what turned out to an identification card from the soldier who had died in his arms. The papers had his current unit information on it.
11TH Infantry Division… Haider went through the papers. The division was part of the corps in charge of defending Lahore and surrounding areas. They were all part of a command whose job it was to prevent the Indians from breaking through whilst allowing other forces to maneuver and strike into Indian territory. In theory.
“They won’t be holding anything when they are fucking dead!” Haider threw the identification paper into the bushes past the road. The soldier who had brought it to him watched the papers of the dead soldier flying off into the bushes. He continued to stand next to Haider, who caught the gesture and looked at him in the eyes: “Yes? Anything else?”
“I… uh, what about the body?” The soldier gestured to the road where the body lay.
Haider looked at the soldier: “we don’t have the space in the vehicles. Push it to the side of the road so the poor man doesn’t get run over by a tank.”