by Rahul Badami
A thunderous explosion nearby lit up the jungle like daylight. Roshan’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the black outline of a figure, arms and legs splayed in mid-air silhouetted against the dazzling white background of the blast. The body swooped through the air and fell right in front of them.
Roshan’s blood turned to ice as he recognized the motionless figure lying in front of him. It was Namit.
He was dead.
Namit had gone around to circle the tent, and had probably stepped on a landmine or a tripwire. Roshan looked over him; the eyes were still open. He had died instantaneously.
Lights switched on in the distance. Roshan peered through the scope and saw that it was a small village and men were emerging from a couple of houses half a kilometre away. Faint shouts could be heard as the people looked at the smouldering remains of a tree near the tent that was still burning. The light from the burning tree illuminated their presence. More people streamed out from their houses. As some of the villagers raced in their direction, Roshan realized that they held guns in their hands. They looked like either the sympathisers of the terrorists or their recruits. It didn’t matter.
They were an immediate threat.
“Let’s move. We will be swarmed in a few minutes.” Baldev broke into a run. Armaan followed him.
Roshan started to join in. And then he stopped. He looked back at Namit’s corpse. They couldn’t leave him behind.
“Roshan.” Armaan ordered him, “Follow us.”
Roshan hesitated. “But sir, we cannot leave Namit here.”
Armaan stopped and turned to him. “Our mission was to eliminate the terrorists, and not to rescue a dead comrade. Can’t you see we will be overwhelmed if we stay here? One dead is better than four dead. Now follow me, and that’s an order.”
Roshan stared at the lifeless figure on the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to abandon Namit. It didn’t matter that he was dead. “No, sir. I cannot. I will carry him.”
“Fool, you are jeopardizing everyone’s lives. I will deal with you later.” Armaan turned and raced towards the border.
Roshan turned his thoughts to Namit. He bent down and lifted his six-foot frame and propped it on his shoulder. His colleague’s body plus the weight of his rifle and backpack crushed him. He straightened himself with difficultly and trudged between the trees trying to get away from the area as quickly as possible.
The shouts grew closer. Roshan glanced back and could see flashlights bobbing their rays up and down in the night, a couple of hundred metres back. They were gaining on him. He hurried his pace weaving through the trees; the calf of his legs burning under the impossible weight. The path was uneven and rocky and he was at a definite disadvantage.
Roshan sneaked a quick peek behind him. The pursuers were only a hundred metres behind. He estimated there were a dozen of them. And he was alone. They would be onto him in less than a minute. He felt a tug in his foot as he rushed past two trees. His balance swayed as his foot got entangled in a root and he fell heavily onto the ground with Namit’s body falling besides him.
Roshan frantically scrambled behind the cover of a tree, but it was already too late. The enemy closing in had heard him fall. Shots whizzed all around him. The flashlights directed their rays in his general direction. Roshan couldn’t let these vermin win. He brought around his Dragunov and trained it on the hostiles. He took careful aim from behind the tree and squeezed off a burst of shots. A couple of the terrorists fell down.
But it was a mistake.
He had given away his exact position. The enemy now alerted to his location got in behind the cover of the trees. And they started firing at him. The bark of the tree shredded as bullets relentlessly pounded it. Roshan was completely pinned down. He couldn’t return fire without risking being shot at.
He was trapped.
Roshan crouched behind the tree and waited for a break in the firing. Suddenly, he saw a movement in the periphery of his vision. One of the men had made a wide arc and had raced to a position parallel to where he was, only a few metres away. He understood immediately; the firing had been a ruse. He had been pinned so that he would be distracted and their colleague could take him out.
The black eyes of the terrorist signified death. So did the AK-47 in his hands.
Roshan knew he had only a fraction of a second to correct the situation. He swivelled his gun in mid-air to shoot down the adversary.
But it was too late.
The terrorist’s AK-47 barked twice. Two bullets thudded into Roshan’s chest and crunched through his ribcage. A white hot pain seared through his chest. The Dragunov flew out of his hand, and his body slammed against the jungle floor. The terrorist walked closer, the AK-47 outstretched in his hand. Roshan watched with trepidation at the barrel hole of the AK-47 pointed right between his eyes.
He was disarmed. There was no escape. He waited for the bullet to come out from the barrel and end his life.
“Burn in the fires of hell, infidel.” The terrorist growled.
A sharp gunshot echoed in the night.
Chapter 2
Roshan awoke with a jolt.
His heart shuddered in his chest and sweat poured down his hairline. He looked around in the darkness. He was in his bedroom. He glanced at the radium hands of the bedside clock. It was four am.
He had been dreaming the same dream again.
He looked down at his chest and fingered the area where he had been shot. The wounds had healed, but the memories hadn’t. It had been months since that fateful night on the Bangladesh border when he was nearly killed.
Roshan remembered how it happened.
It was Armaan who had returned after calling Baldev back. Armaan had shot the terrorist with a single bullet to the head before he could kill Roshan. Together Baldev and Armaan had then unleashed a fury of gunfire against the remaining terrorists.
Roshan had stumbled in his wounded state as he picked up his gun. He gritted his teeth against the pain and used his blood-soaked fingers to chamber a fresh ten round magazine. He squeezed off a shot at the terrorists, and then another. The gun recoiled wildly in his arms; he couldn’t control the aim in the condition he was in. By the time he had downed one of the terrorists, the fight was over. Armaan and Baldev had mowed down the others.
Armaan looked around at the terrorists, ensuring that they were dead. He then turned to Roshan, the anger unmistakable in his eyes. “Soldier, what was our mission?”
Roshan gasped as he tried to keep his voice steady, “To kill the designated terrorists.”
“You nearly failed our mission. Your insubordination almost cost us our lives. What do you have to say in your defence?”
“I did,” Roshan struggled against the pain in his chest, “what I thought was right.”
“You are not here to think.” Armaan’s voice cut like steel. “You are here to follow orders. My orders. You’ll answer to the DG for what happened tonight. Baldev,” Armaan gestured to Baldev, “you help Roshan, I’ll take care of Namit.”
Armaan and Baldev then carried Namit and Roshan through the jungles back to base. It was a treacherous journey through the jungles and swamps, but they made it. The doctors looked at Roshan’s wounds and told him that it would take a long time to heal, but he was lucky that the bullets hadn’t passed through his lungs or heart.
Roshan spent many days in convalescence in a military hospital while his wounds healed. Most of the time was spent in retrospection of his first mission. Baldev had met him in the hospital, but Armaan hadn’t. Baldev told him that they could have come for Namit later; Armaan was more concerned about the safety of his team. As a group leader, he had already lost one of his men, and he didn’t want to risk the rest of their lives. It was also the reason Armaan took the decision to fight against the pursuing group of terrorists; as he couldn’t let Roshan face them alone.
Roshan felt gratitude towards Armaan, but simultaneously felt guilty with himself. He had been carried away with bravado, when the mission require
d stealth. He remembered the soldier’s creed was to follow orders. He cursed himself for his stupidity. He wanted to impress Armaan, but had ended up hospitalised for months instead of doing more field ops. His decisions had made him a liability for the team. No wonder Armaan had been so angry with him. He promised he would do his utmost to follow his leader’s orders the next time.
The alarm in his mobile buzzed. It was 4:30 am. Roshan swiped across the mobile screen to turn it off. His thoughts returned to the picture of Armaan castigating him for his actions. He would be meeting Armaan on their next operation. His chest tightened as he wondered how Armaan would treat him after their previous experience. Would Armaan want him back? He hoped that Armaan would have forgiven him by now. In retrospect, his actions were an utter embarrassment. Roshan prided on his discipline, and he had let the emotions of the moment override his discipline.
No. He wouldn’t let Armaan down again. If Armaan allowed him for another mission, he would ensure never to disobey his orders.
Ministry of Defence, South Block, New Delhi, India
Shikha Tiwari stood up from her desk with a frown. She couldn't concentrate. It had been thirty minutes since she had been working on a whitepaper with the topic ‘Responding to Cyber Attacks during Wartime’.
And she was stuck.
Shikha looked over from her cabin to the team sitting in the cubicles, and a momentary smile replaced her frown. They were part of the Defence Intelligence Agency attached to the Ministry of Defence and she was proud of the work she did. While the armed forces worked at the borders, her team worked behind the scenes to ensure that any enemies’ malevolent designs were thwarted. Shikha had been part of the pilot team when the DIA had been created way back in 2002.
She had worked assiduously and her intelligence and skills were recognised with multiple promotions over the years. She currently led her own team as the head of Advanced Warfare Systems. They were tasked to find cutting edge solutions to military challenges.
Intelligence agencies historically relied on HUMINT – human intelligence – the information gathered through human assets primarily through espionage. However, with the advent of computers and technology SIGINT and ELINT rose to prominence. Signal Intelligence and Electronic Intelligence were obtained by ‘listening’ into the enemy systems to gain knowledge of their plans. And based on the Intel received, they would develop solutions. From cyber-security to satellite reconnaissance, they were involved in all fields imaginable.
Shikha frequently liaised with the DRDO and the BARC for many of their top secret projects. And she took great satisfaction in making a small contribution to the massive organization that was the Ministry of Defence.
“You seem to be distracted.” Tanmay Mehta walked towards her.
Shikha looked at Tanmay. He was a veteran of their team. They had worked together for many years and had a professional respect for each other. She realized what had sidetracked her from her work. She looked down at the screen at the half-finished whitepaper she’d been creating.
“It’s nothing.” She mumbled.
Tanmay shook his head. “I’ve seen you working. Once you start, you never leave anything half-way. Something bothering you?”
“Yes, actually there is,” she could tell it to Tanmay. He would have his own opinions and she wanted to know what they were. “It’s about today’s meeting with the PM.”
“Ah!” Tanmay brought the word out as if he understood everything. Shikha wondered if he understood. His next words confirmed that he did indeed. “You don’t like him, do you?”
Shikha nodded. “I don’t like the way he talks.” The Prime Minister was newly elected. He had previously been the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh and had helped garner a majority of seats in the all-important state, propelling him into the Prime Ministerial seat. He had a habit of being outspoken on all matters, and was decidedly a right-wing hardliner.
Tanmay said, “He speaks controversially to make an impact and sell himself. And the media gobbles it up.” He paused. “We will come to see who he really is in today’s meeting.”
“That’s what I am afraid of.” Shikha said. “It’s a defence security review. The moment we talk about defence, we have to talk about Pakistan. And you know his opinion on Pakistan.”
“Pakistan must be shown a clear mirror of their doings.” Prime Minister Jagdish Inamdaar spoke to the people assembled in front of him.
Shikha gripped her chair tightly in an effort to refrain from speaking. She looked around at the twenty or so people that sat around in the oval shaped meeting room. The three Chiefs of Staff, the Defence Minister, the Defence Secretary, the National Security Advisor, the R&AW chief, and a handful of core team members, everyone was nodding to Inamdaar’s suggestion. While Shikha was no pacifist, she didn’t appreciate the aggressive undertones of what the PM was implying.
The Defence Security review meeting had started with the three Chiefs of Staff apprising Inamdaar of the current border scenario followed by the achievements and challenges of their respective forces. Then the Defence Minister had talked about the roadmap for the Ministry of Defence. It was during the R&AW chief’s discussion on external threats, specifically the threat from Pakistan’s non-state actors that Inamdaar interrupted.
“I say,” Inamdaar continued, “we need to find a way to end this nuisance on our western border. We give them Most Favoured Nation trade status, and they give us terrorism. They give us Kargil and Mumbai attacks. And each time we are in reactive mode. My predecessors allowed things to drift along in inertia. I will make things happen.” He smashed his fist on the mahogany table.
“PM sir,” the Defence Secretary said, “it is not just the threat of terrorism, but Pakistan is balancing its military capabilities in the nuclear arena. They know they can never win a conventional war against us, so they have launched a war of attrition where our army personnel are ambushed by non-state actors and their bodies are mutilated. They think we won’t attack because they have the Bomb. They consider our reticence to be our weakness.”
Inamdaar shook his head, “We have to figure out a way to resolve this. We cannot allow Pakistan to hold us to nuclear ransom. We have been looking for a diplomatic solution for ages and haven’t found any. We need a military solution on the cross-border terrorism.”
The Defence secretary shook his head, “A military solution is unthinkable against a nuclear-armed state. Pakistan has employed a full spectrum nuclear deterrence from low-kiloton Tactical Nuclear Weapons as a response to our Cold Start doctrine, to now being a Nuclear Triad with the recent trial of their Submarine Launched Cruise missiles. It’s impossible.”
Inamdaar straightened in his chair, “I do not want to hear the word ‘impossible’ in this room again. I need answers on how we can mitigate the nuclear risk and uproot the terrorism threat.”
The R&AW chief joined in, “The nuclear risk is escalating by the day. Till recently, they could deploy their warheads only from missile silos or via aircrafts, which we could easily track with our Airborne Early Warning and Control Systems posted at the international border. But with the sea-based nuclear capability, we now have no idea from where and when their submarines will launch nuclear attacks, if they ever decide to pull the nuclear trigger. If they launch missiles from a submarine in the Bay of Bengal, our AWACS at the border become redundant. In addition, I have received credible information that Pakistan is covertly working on a top-secret military facility that will help them leverage their sea-based nuclear capability.”
Shikha’s ears perked up at the information. She looked around and saw that everyone’s gaze was fixed on the R&AW chief. He said, “I can see that I have got your attention. Here’s what our team has found out…”
The R&AW chief spoke for a few minutes. A hush descended on the gathering as he finished. Everyone was numbed by the information shared. Inamdaar spoke first.
“Do we have a confirmation that this Intel is genuine?”
“Yes,” the R&AW
chief replied, “Satellite data confirmed what my agents in Pakistan found out. The facility in question indeed exists.”
“Do you have any proposals about what we should do?” PM Inamdaar asked.
“I spoke with General Singh before coming to the meeting today on our possible responses.” The R&AW chief said, “General, would you like to share your thoughts?”
General Vishwajeet Singh, the Chief of the Army Staff nodded, “Before I elaborate on my ideas, I would like to talk about history. In the eighties, when the nuclear programs of both our countries were under wraps, we were approached by the Israelis. They wanted our support to scuttle the Kahuta nuclear plant. The Israelis had already destroyed a nuclear reactor in Iraq and they wanted to do the same in Pakistan. At the end of months of deliberation, the Kahuta attack never happened. But, and this is the point I want to stress, what if we had gone ahead and bombed the Kahuta plant?” He looked around the table to ensure that he had everyone’s attention. “Would we have a nuclear Pakistan today? Would we have a state that belligerently harbours UN-designated terrorists including the likes of Osama Bin Laden and Masood Azhar? No. The past gives us the answers for the present. If we don’t do anything now, we risk a situation that will grow worse by the day. And that is why I suggest that we take a leaf out of the pages of our Israeli friends and do something that we should have done decades earlier. We send a team in and neutralize this secret facility.”
“That’s insane.” Shikha interrupted. “It will lead to war.”
Everyone turned to look at her. Shikha’s cheeks reddened as she became conscious of being the object of everyone’s scrutiny. She could still hear her words hung in the air. The silence was palpable and the stares of everyone in the room unnerved her. She had been shocked at the overtness of the General’s plan. But now she felt like biting her tongue off for interrupting her boss.
“Lead to war?” General Singh bored his eyes into her. “We are already in a state of war for decades now. Haven’t you heard of Siachen? Thirty plus years, and probably the longest military standoff ever.”