Line of Control- A Thriller on the Coming War in Asia

by Mainak Dhar

  It took some seconds for all the Indian tanks to stop firing. After a few more seconds, Chauhan called her out.

  She was shocked at the scene of carnage around her. Rahul had jumped out, camera at the ready, but when he saw the aftermath of real war, he blanched, and stood dumbly, the camera at his side.

  There were a dozen burning Type 59s littered around them. In the final stages of the engagement, the Indian tanks had closed to within 300 meters of the enemy, and from this close, Pooja could see not just the burning tanks, but also smell the sickly sweet stench of death. In a couple of cases, the Pakistani crew had made a desperate attempt to escape, and she could see their charred remains just outside the tanks. She felt vomit rise up in her mouth, and tried her best to control herself.

  The Pakistanis had been taken completely by surprise, and only three or four of them had managed to wheel around to fire back at the Indians. Two Arjuns had been hit, and had exploded when the 105mm shells struck home-there were no survivors in either tank.

  Rahul walked tentatively towards the nearest Pakistani tank. He walked unsteadily, he had always thought of war as a heroic contest where soldiers perform feats of bravery. Now he saw the brutal and unforgiving reality of war.

  He felt Chauhan’s firm grip on his right shoulder.

  `Rahul, the papers will call this a victory. I’ve lost six men-men I’ve lived and trained with for years. Six families will receive a badly typed letter informing them that their sons will never come home. I imagine there will be many such letters on both sides before this ends.’

  Pooja had walked up to the two men, and stood watching Chauhan. Chauhan turned towards her and had a sad smile on his face.

  `Now you know why the soldier is the last guy to want war-because we train to become so damn good at it.’

  Rahul had turned his camera on, catching the devastation around them, and the young Colonel’s words. Within two days, the tape was in Mumbai. After being cleared by the Army, the segment was aired on all major news channels, and brought home the horror of war into millions of living rooms across the subcontinent.

  ***

  Lieutenant General Sandhu could not have asked for more. His forces were streaming into Pakistan, and making progress he had never imagined. He was right up there with his men, traveling in his converted BMP just a few kilometers behind the frontline troops.

  After the first few engagements, the Pakistanis seemed to be falling back. The previous night had seen several fierce tank engagements, when a regiment of T-80s had attempted a local counterattack. Sandhu had lost twenty T-90s and twelve BMPs in the battle that had lasted for over five hours in a series of turning engagements, culminating in a head to head battle. Despite his losses, Sandhu was happy with the result. The Pakistani attack had been smashed with over thirty tanks destroyed in the tank battle and a further ten knocked out by air strikes on the retreating Pakistani force.

  That had pretty much been the story of the XIth Corp’s progress so far. The Pakistanis had initially put up fierce resistance, but had been forced on the backfoot, primarily due to the Indians’ virtual control of the air.

  Sandhu’s immediate concern was getting past the defensive emplacements at Kasur, where the Pakistanis seemed to be converging. He had thought of calling in heavy air strikes to soften them up, before he moved his men forward.

  `Sir, the Pakis are breaking up. I think they’re retreating!’

  Sandhu did not believe the report when it came in. If anything, from what he had seen so far, the Pakistanis had been willing to stay and fight to the bitter end.

  But as he looked at the pictures being relayed back by the Searchers, he had to believe his eyes. The Pakistanis seemed to be in disarray and most of their heavy armor was moving in a disorderly manner to the Northwest. Only a skeletal force remained at Kasur. Sandhu wondered if it was a ruse, but dismissed it when he saw that the forces were moving to a point where they could in no way interfere with his direct attack on Lahore. Now all he would have to do was to smash through the forces left at Kasur, and then he would literally be at Lahore’s doorstep.

  ***

  `Doctor, will he be okay?’

  It was not the first time Singh had asked the doctor at the base that question, and every time the answer had been non-committal. Goel was in a critical condition. Two bullet fragments had hit him just below the neck, and he had lost a lot of blood.

  `Son, we’re trying our very best. Go and get some rest.’

  Singh had been sitting outside the hospital room for the last twenty hours, having to be dragged away by Sonaina for meals. He had flown with Goel for just about three years, but he realized now just how close they had become, and just how big a void would be left in his life if anything happened to Goel. It is often that way with your closest friends, you take their presence almost for granted till you are faced with the prospect of losing them. It’s then that the smallest things come back to torture you. News of the Karachi raid had spread like wildfire-the press, with its usual hyperbole, was calling it the `most daring air strike in history’. Singh knew medals and citations would follow-but right now, he would have traded it all for news that Goel would be okay.

  ***

  SEVENTEEN

  All warfare is based on deception….hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.

  - Sun Tzu

  Thank God that bloody Niazi has some sense after all. Ramnath thought to himself as he got news that the convoy was indeed turning back.

  It had been a tense standoff for almost an hour after the first strike on the convoy. Niazi had probably been waiting for instructions from Riyadh. The hit on a warship would have rankled, and that was something that the Saudis would find hard to swallow. But for now there was little they could do about it. Ramnath knew that the hitting of the frigate was a mistake. The whole idea had been to hit two tankers-an act that would cause minimal loss of life. However, the Captain of the Tabha had taken his duty of protecting the convoy a bit too seriously, and had maneuvered his ship into the path of the missiles. Brave fool, Ramnath thought ruefully. The Indian Government had already contacted the Saudis saying that the loss of life on the Tabha was an error, but the message was clear-if the Saudis got involved any further in the conflict, they could expect more such accidents.

  The nearest Saudi ship, a missile boat, the Herat, was just a hundred and forty kilometers from the Indian carrier. Though the Saudis seemed to be turning back, Ramnath wanted to take no chances-he a had a couple of Sea Eagle equipped Sea King helicopters hovering just eighty kilometers from the Saudi ships. The Sea Eagle was an aging British made anti-ship missile, but still gave the equally venerable Sea King helicopters an anti-ship punch that greatly multiplied its capability

  Then it happened. The Herat turned towards the Indian carrier, and accelerated to over thirty knots. Ramnath had just a minute or so in which to order the sinking of the ship before it got within range of launching its Harpoons. He issued a quick warning to the Saudis, but got no response. He decided he could not endanger his men any more, and ordered the sinking of the ship.

  The lead Sea King fired its two Sea Eagles when the Herat was eighty kilometers away. The two sea skimming missiles accelerated to over 600 knots as they homed in on the small ship.

  The Saudi Captain on the Herat had made his own decision. A proud soldier, he had resisted the order to withdraw. Unlike Niazi, who was a professional sailor, one of the few from the pre-revolution days to survive the Emir’s purges, he was a loyal follower of the Emir. He knew that Niazi would be punished by the Emir for his cowardice, but he had no desire to fail his Leader. He armed his four Harpoons and was about to enter launch range when the Sea Eagles hit. The Herat exploded in a huge fireball that was visible for miles around, and then sank without a trace.

  Ramnath had read of the fanatical bravery of the Emir’s men, now he had seen it firsthand. He began to appreciate what the troops in Kashmir were up against.

  ***<
br />
  Illahi’s fist came crashing down on the table.

  Shamsher and Karim kept their calm. Shoaib, however, seemed to cringe as the man began raving.

  `Now what! We are left alone-first you tell me that somehow the AWACS has malfunctioned, now our Navy cannot bring in that bloody convoy. You have failed the nation.’

  Karim looked up sharply at that remark. The nation, indeed.

  Uncharacteristically, Shoaib spoke up first. `Sir, it was the Saudi commander’s decision to turn back. Frankly without air cover, they would have been decimated. We never though the Indians could hit Karachi.’

  Illahi turned angrily towards Karim, but he pre-empted Illahi by speaking.

  `Sir, without the AWACS, it was almost impossible to stop that attack. Maybe our friends in Riyadh would like to tell us what happened to the AWACS?’ He shot a meaningful glance at Abdul.

  After the AWACS debacle and now the turning back of the convoy, the Emir’s envoy was having a tough time explaining why things were fast unraveling in what had been promised to be a virtually foolproof plan.

  `First, one thing should be made clear. The turning back of the convoy is an act of cowardice by the commander, a true believer would have rushed to a heroic death, like the gallant crew of the Herat.’

  `A fat lot of good that would have done. I would have been fishing those bloody tanks out of the pond.’ Shamsher stood a good six inches taller than Abdul, and now used his physique to tower over the man.

  Abdul was not a man used to being cowed down. `Of course, where was your great air force then. You can’t protect your own base-what will you do to protect our convoy.’

  Karim was not going to stand any more bullshit from this raghead. `Listen here. I don’t want any of that crap. Where the fuck were your AWACS?’

  Abdul was deflated. He really had nothing to say. The Emir had of course attributed it all to the United States, but there was no proof. All they had was the fact that the memories of all the computers on the E-3 had been wiped out. Shamsher now faced Illahi and looked him straight in the eye. After his discussions with Karim, he now felt that he was not alone, and did not hesitate to stand up before what he saw as a hopeless war.

  `Sir, you know already the reservations we all had about this war. The only chance we had of carrying out a successful offensive action was with the M-1s and the AWACS. With those gone, we really are back to square one. Add to that the Indian attack in the plains-and we’re not in very good shape at all. What I promise you as a soldier is that we’ll hold the Indians at Lahore. But, if you want my opinion, please ask for a cease-fire before this goes out of hand.’

  Illahi grimaced at the mention of a cease-fire. `When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Now go and do your duty. Let me figure out how to handle this thing.’ As the men left, Illahi felt the pain coming back. Nowadays, the pain was a daily occurrence and he had doubled his medication. Yet it seemed to do nothing to relieve the pain. He grasped his head and sank back into his chair, trying to wish the blinding pain away.

  ***

  Thirty minutes ago, Sandhu had given the order for the final push onto Kasur. After a short artillery barrage, the air force swung into action. He watched six Jaguars come in low and fly back after dropping their bombs. There was little ground fire. What are the Pakis up to? Sandhu wondered. This was getting a bit too easy. He had deployed most of his tanks on the Northern flank. They would be the first to hit the Pakistani positions. His infantry, carried in by over 150 BMPs, would go in from the center.

  Once they had achieved a breakthrough, they were to carry on towards Lahore, while his remaining ten thousand or so troops came in to secure the captured areas. Things had been moving so fast that he still did not have a clear cut political clearance on whether his forces should enter Lahore if he did manage to get that far. Before the war, he had been instructed to wait for further orders before moving into the densely populated city.

  Reconnaissance showed there to be barely 50 tanks facing his main force. The Pakistanis had a few entrenched anti-tank fortifications. But it would only be a matter of time before they were taken out. The PAF had not been in sight for a day, and the remaining ground forces had disappeared northwards. Sandhu had ordered a Searcher to go after them, but it had been shot down by a hand held SAM.

  For now, he could not really be bothered about them. His tanks were fast approaching shooting distance of the defenses at Kasur.

  Suddenly, all hell broke loose.

  Twenty AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters, the PAF’s entire remaining fleet, swept in from the North. The Cobra is a powerful attack helicopter, carrying up to eight TOW anti-tank missiles. So far, the PAF had used them sparingly, and the Indians had shot down six of them. After that the Cobras had stayed away, the PAF probably realizing that attack helicopters could not survive if the enemy had air superiority. But now they were coming in relentlessly. Even before they could get within range, the Indian defenses opened up. The tanks were accompanied by tracked vehicles carrying SA-8 SAMs, and they began engaging the Cobras. Four Cobras were downed before the other got into range and began launching TOWs. Several Indian tanks exploded as others maneuvered to take cover from this unexpected threat. Now the Indian ZSU-23 tracked anti-aircraft guns opened up, and a few more Cobras fell. Yet they kept coming on. Sandhu watched, fascinated. The Cobras were all but committing suicide. He called in for air cover and within minutes four MiG-23s were over the area.

  Then, something even more unexpected happened. A dozen F-7s appeared over the battlefield and engaged the MiGs. The MiGs were warned by the AWACS orbiting over the battlefield and got off the first shot with their long-range missiles, shooting down two Airguards. Realizing they were heavily outnumbered, they called for help. Four MiG-29s on standby were over the battlefield before the F-7s could enter missile range of the Indian MiG-23s. Once more, with their advantage of long-range missiles, the Indians drew first blood and downed two more F-7s. But the F-7s kept closing and engaged the Indian fighters in close combat. With seven F-7s versus eight MiG-23s and 29s, the PAF pilots were badly outgunned, but they kept at it. Just as the Indians thought they had had their share of surprises, six F-16s swept in low over the battlefield and engaged the Indian jets. The Pakistanis had adopted a brave strategy, sacrificing the less capable F-7 to the Indian long-range missiles and only then rushing in the F-16s. Now the tables were more than turned. The Indians had downed two more F-7s for the loss of a MiG-23, but the arrival of the F-16s put them at a numerical disadvantage. The first to fall was a MiG-23 hit by a Sidewinder from a head on shot. Then another exploded as an F-16 turned inside it and destroyed it with cannon fire. A MiG-29 avenged its comrades by hitting one of the F-16s with an R-73, and the battle continued.

  A dozen MiG-21s sped into the battle area. Not as capable as the F-16s or MiG-29s, they were the nearest jets, and the IAF had two squadrons at a nearby base. Six more F-7s appeared to add to the confusion. Sitting on the ground, the F-7 and MiG-21 would be hard to tell apart-as the F-7 was essentially a Chinese modification of the venerable Russian fighter. Twisting and turning at 500 knots, it was virtually impossible to tell them apart.

  On the ground, some Indian soldiers paused to watch the colossal air battle overhead, but most were occupied with trying to keep from getting killed. The Cobras, now unmolested by enemy fighters, were wreaking havoc on the Indian forces. Their first pass had knocked out six tanks, and now they engaged the Indian vehicles, hunting individually. Two more Cobras were shot down by SA-8s, but the Pakistanis got back by knocking out over a dozen tanks in less than five minutes. Most of their missiles exhausted, the Cobras now pressed on, firing short ranged rockets at the Indian vehicles. This was a dangerous tactic, and several fell to hand held SA-14s.

  In the sky above, the IAF was extracting a terrible toll, but the PAF kept on coming. Karim had briefed the pilots personally, and they had vowed that they would return in a coffin, but would not retreat. They were living up to their words. As mor
e jets from both sides joined the battle, it rapidly developed into the largest air battle ever seen in the subcontinent, and the single largest air-to-air engagement since the Vietnam War. Despite their losses, the PAF pilots were ensuring that the Indian fighters could not interfere with the battle on the ground.

  Now there were only two Cobras left, but Sandhu was painfully aware of the devastation they had caused. Standing two kilometers away, he could count over thirty burning Indian vehicles, and he knew the toll would be much more than that. As the last Cobra was hit by gunfire and crashed, he thought it was over.

  When he looked to his right, he knew how wrong he was. The `missing’ Pakistani tanks had re-appeared from the North and were engaging the disoriented Indian attackers. The tables had been turned nicely, and Sandhu mused, he had walked into a clever trap. The Indians re-organized and fought back, but suffered heavy initial losses to the Pakistani attack. By the time the Indians had begun taking a toll of the opposing tanks, the Pakistanis withdrew towards Kasur.

  In the air above, the remaining PAF fighters disengaged and flew homewards.

  Later military historians would muse that probably the only way Pakistan could have saved Kasur was through such a desperate gamble. Pakistan had lost all twenty Cobras to ground fire. In the air, for sixteen Indian jets shot down, the PAF had lost twenty fighters, including eight F-16s. It was a terrible cost, but the Pakistanis had blunted the Indian offensive.

  Sandhu had lost over a hundred tanks and armored vehicles and perhaps close to three dozen other vehicles like jeeps and mine-layers in the battle, and could claim only thirty enemy tanks killed. The balance of forces at Kasur had shifted dramatically.

  He knew that the Pakistanis had all but sacrificed their offensive war making capability in this one battle. But he also knew that now there was no question of his pushing on to Lahore.

  ***

  The news of the debacle at Kasur was greeted with disbelief and despair in Delhi. Khosla called the NSC together for an emergency meeting.