by Vivek Ahuja
The same as over Tibet...He reminded himself as he recollected the minute details from the NSA meeting the previous night.
Rebels attacking civilians my ass. This guy speaks outrageous lies without blinking. But I suppose one needs to be dead inside for doing this job...
“You mean Chinese citizens or Tibetans?”
“I am afraid I do not know the statistics.” Jiang replied simply.
Aren’t you predictable...Ravoof thought with an inward smile before finally turning away from the windows to face his guest:
“Of course”
He opened a file and removed a piece of paper from it and handed it to Jiang across the table:
“That is the statement that the Government of India has released as of fifteen minutes ago and which the prime-minister will reiterate during his scheduled press conference from Washington DC. It asks for both sides to break off the cycle of violence that has been spiraling out of control in Tibet for the last few weeks. This is the gist of the page long statement you find in front of you. The prime-minister wanted me to give you a personal assurance of help should Beijing need a mediator to intervene on behalf of both sides.”
Ravoof leaned back in his chair while Jiang grew significantly more uncomfortable in his own.
“I will pass this offer back to Beijing, but I would also like to remind you and your government that the situation in Tibet is an internal affair, not an international one. While we thank India for taking a mature stand in these troubled times, I feel obliged to remind you that the resolution of an internal affair does not require international mediation, similar to your situation in Kashmir.” Jiang replied in an almost unnoticeably sterner tone than before. It did not escape his Indian host though.
“The two situations are somewhat different, Mr. Ambassador. I would not advise such a simple comparison. Further, there are historical issues to consider. We have the Tibetan government-in-exile still on our soil.”
“You mean the rebel leaders. India would better serve both India’s and China’s interests by first removing such outlaw encampments from Indian soil before offering help to others. It is very well known that with the deterioration in health of the Dalai Lama over the last few months, his demise cannot be ruled out. And a replacement will be chosen and it will be one from Tibet. At that point the existence of the current ‘government-in-exile’ will be nothing more than a rebel encampment. The Indian government stands to do good here if it were to recognize this and begin taking steps to prevent any…disruption that these outlaws may then cause from Indian soil. As perhaps is already happening as we speak. ”
The Indian Foreign Minister now leaned forward:
“Mr. Ambassador, these may be troubled times for your government, but it is highly advisable for you to avoid accusing other countries with outrageous and, I if do say so myself, naive claims. We know what your state-run media has begun to spew out over the past few weeks and please don’t waste my time with denials. You know better than that. The Dalai-Lama is under the weather. He is not dead nor is he close to being so, all rumors not-withstanding. And assuming the worst possible outcome, should he indeed pass away, may I remind you that a very large portion of the Tibetan population resides in India now rather than your so-called Tibet Autonomous Regions? Perhaps the future Dalai Lama may come from within his people in this country. Has your government considered this? Or is that too hard to even consider in Beijing? If that were to happen, the Tibetan government-in-exile will stay here unhindered.
“And as far as the attacks over the last few months in Tibet by so-called Tibetan dissidents are concerned, perhaps it may have more to do with a renewed round of genocidal activities being undertaken by your armies there rather than the Dalai Lama’s ailments or any other supposed theories that Beijing is attempting to come up with.
“Further, the prime-minister has gone to great lengths to make statements of support at a time when the emotions of our own citizens are high and when such statements tend to weaken his position within his own people. Keep pushing this government and you will find a far colder atmosphere in New-Delhi than what you might have prepared for. Don’t make the situation worse for both of us. I would much rather have you over for tea than not,” and with that both sides had drawn an unseen line across the table that separated them. Jiang absorbed the blow, but recovered his composure quickly:
“I am sorry for my emotional comments. But as you said it, these are difficult times. I will pass back your government’s offer for mediations back to my government.”
Ambassador Jiang glanced at the paper in his hands. A few seconds later he finally spoke again:
“There is one other matter that my government thought you might need to know. There was an attack six days ago on a civilian convoy that cost the lives of more than three dozen civilians. The attack took place on the section of the highway just north of the border in Ladakh.” The Ambassador stared back into the eyes of the host who returned the favor:
“And I express my sympathies for the loss of lives, Ambassador. But apart from the geographical proximity to the Line of Actual control, what makes the attack different from all the others so far across Tibet?”
“Just that the close proximity of the attack near the border warranted a mention. It seems the Tibetan rebels have begun attacking civilian targets closer and closer to the border with India ever since our security forces began pushing them out of the cities,” Jiang concluded with a straight poker face that he was known for. Fifteen minutes later he left, and the Indian foreign-minister returned back to his office and sat back down in his chair before staring out of the windows again.
They are thinking something and its taking them in the wrong directions...
But what the hell is it that they are thinking?
HILLS OVERLOOKING THE VILLAGE OF SHIQUANHE
SOUTHWESTERN TIBET
MAY 15, 1830 HRS
The noise from random bursts of gunfire was still echoing in the hills. The sun had begun to lower under the western peaks amidst a darkening orange and red sky. And the rebels had taken a beating from PLA forces after a botched ambush had turned into a drawn out fire-fight. It had left dozens killed in the outskirts of the once pristine village. The battles had shifted now into the hills outside the village as the rebels attempted to retreat to the east, across the river that cut the village along a northeast-southwest axis. Buildings west of the river were nothing more than smoldering remains and PLA troops were everywhere, initiating movements across the river to push the rebels out from the rest of the village.
“There they go,” Gephel noted neutrally without removing his eyes from the binoculars.
“There’s a lesson in here somewhere,” Major Ngawang replied as he crept up in deliberate slow motion alongside the Lieutenant-Colonel. Both men now lay behind the rock cover at the top of a ridgeline west of the valley below. Gephel grunted his disgust at the outcome of the battle between the Tibetan rebels and the PLA.
“Absolute idiots! When will they learn what force composition is all about? You don’t engage an entire PLA battalion in conventional combat, damn it. Not when you are outnumbered ten to one!”
“In broad daylight too,” Ngawang said as he lowered his optics and looked around, seeing the rest of the combined team deployed behind them on security within the rocks and boulders. “They aren’t going to last too long with such poor tactics. At this rate this revolt will be over before it ever started. Of course, that’s where we come in,” Ngawang noted with a smile.
Gephel smiled but did not take his eyes away from the binoculars. Looking at the smoke rising into the pink colored evening skies above, he wondered about the symbolism of it all. It had started with similar symbolism several months ago…
Tibet was burning with the fires of a fledgling rebellion over the last several months. What had started as yet another season of silent protest through strikes and the few odd incidents of self-immolations had been exacerbated with rumors of the worsening
condition of the Dalai Lama accelerated by his old age. The regional Chinese leaders had not helped the situation by reiterating Beijing’s stand that the future Tibetan leader would be selected by Chinese party officials, putting aside the age old traditions of the Tibetan people and their culture. And hence had started a renewed phase of struggle by the Tibetan people to free themselves from the stranglehold of Beijing that attempted to choke and snuff them out of existence.
The problem was that the Tibetan people were not equipped to fight the Chinese armed forces in Tibet on their own terms. Weapons and equipment were barely available and mostly obsolete. So much of that had been smuggled across the Himalayas by Tibetan rebels staging from India. This had not pleased the party leaders in Beijing very much and the relationship with New-Delhi was strained. The New-China-News-Agency, or NCNA, was blasting anti-India and anti-Tibetan vitriolic daily over the airwaves across China. And the Dalai-Lama’s condition did not allow him to urge for peace within his people. Beijing saw this as conditional approval on his part to the rebels and their actions. The rebels saw it the same way. The rebellion had become stronger as a result, and now the PLA was cracking down as well. The PLA had rushed massive reinforcements to the Tibet Autonomous Region, or TAR, a as it was called. And the result was that the Tibetan rebels were on the verge of being defeated…
Of course, New-Delhi was not entirely blind to the plight of the Tibetans. And while the government could hardly provoke war with China for their cause, they were willing to look the other way as the Tibetans began gathering covert support across their population in India for manpower and finances. The threshold that had not been crossed was with regard to supplying the Tibetans with arms. At least, not visibly anyway…
There were many in the corridors of power in the Indian capital who wished to see China brought to its knees over this affair. 1962 had not been forgotten. Neither had the scars gone away. But the question remained: how to proceed? Arming the Tibetans was a start, but to what end? Unless the Indian government went on a massive arming initiative, the rebellion would sputter and spark but would die a cold death in the end. As it had in 1959. The average Tibetan rebel, despite his martial heritage and build, was not trained for the intricacies of modern combat. And unlike 1959, when the PLA had been little more than a people’s army, the current army was a mature and modern force. So what else could be done? After several meetings between senior officials in the Indian foreign intelligence agency and the secretive strategic operations cell of the Department of Defense within the Ministry of Defense, it had been decided that China would be made to bleed as much as possible while the rebellion lasted. They would be forced into a situation where their control over Tibet would seem tenuous and perhaps force them into more compromising terms with India.
Special teams of soldiers would be sent inside Tibet disguised as Tibetan rebels and would wage covert war alongside them against PLA forces. The soldiers would be of Tibetan ethnicity for the most part and would speak the language to allow them to merge within the locals. But where would such soldiers come from? The Special Frontier Force, or SFF, trained from Tibetan refugees who had fled to India over the years, had become too public over the years thanks to their employment in various operations and wars. They were too closely watched by the Chinese and posed a security threat to the entire objective. Instead, the men had been gleaned from other sources and regular units of the newly formed Indian Special Operations Command, or SOCOM, as it was called. They had been covertly trained over the year and were armed and equipped for combat. And having entered Tibet within a few months of the start of the initial protests, were now waging covert war against the PLA regular forces deployed in the region.
Their entire objective depended on secrecy and deniability. The Indian intelligence services had ensured that these men had been removed from all records and for all intents and purposes had been given Tibetan pseudo-identities. Their ranks prior to their selection no longer applied, even though military protocols were applied within the units. They were being supported by intelligence data and electronic assets as and when they could be diverted without drawing too much attention within the Indian Army echelons. If the planners within the DOD were not careful, they could trigger war with China and they knew it.
Hell… Gephel thought. All it would take is one mistake. Just one…
But at some dark, deep inner level, he wondered whether that was necessarily a bad thing? Gephel came from a long line of Tibetan generations before his grandparents had rushed along with thousands of others from Gyantse in Tibet, their original hometown, to India via Nepal during the rebellion of 1959. He had heard the stories countless times from his parents, who had been toddlers when they had arrived to welcoming hands in India. The Red-Cross gave them food and shelter, and gave Gephel a home. He had considered himself and his future generations in debt of this country ever since. Just like his parents had taught him to do. So when he had applied for the Indian Army and was denied, only to be taken up on that offer by the RAW, he had felt no qualms in offering his services to go back across the Himalayas numerous times on very high risk intelligence missions over his career. He had been trained along the lines of the Indian Paratroopers and had been allowed to join the Army by a grateful RAW Director after his repeated requests to do so.
And he had done well. He had risen to the ranks of Lieutenant-Colonel within the army under what his peers considered to be mysterious circumstances. But everybody left him alone once they realized his background through rumors. He hated the looks of suspicion from the senior commanders he worked with in SOCOM once they all had a chance to look at his career-service-vitae. So in a way it had given him pleasure when the RAW operations officers had dropped by his office a few months ago about taking part in the upcoming plans for Tibet.
And they had done a good job collecting men similar to him, he had realized once he had a chance to meet them at a remote training base in the northern state of Uttar-Pradesh. He had met Major Ngawang there. Once they had inserted into Tibet, he had carried out his objectives with clarity, vision and determination. But over the last few weeks he had begun to see that the overall plans had failed. The rebellion was faltering and Tibet would once again return to the iron grasp of the Chinese sooner rather than later. Once winter set in, it would signal the end of the last sputters of resistance from the rebels. And what then?
What he and his team had seen over the past day here was highly symptomatic of this reality…
The combined force of ten men under Gephel had been holed up in the hills northwest of the village for the past day. They had watched the botched attempt on the PLA convoy by the rebels that had left the lead truck burning under the force of an improvised roadside bomb. Other such devices had apparently not worked as they should have, and sure enough the rest of the convoy had stopped and dozens of soldiers had deployed into the houses bordering the road. It then became a house-to-house fight between an overwhelming PLA infantry force and a small rebel unit.
But for all their flaws, the Tibetan rebels had fought bravely. That was something Gephel could concede. Of course, from a military standpoint it had not been enough. In modern warfare, it usually never is. The Tibetans within the eastern outskirts of the village had been wiped out to the last man. More rebels had converged from the east to help their besieged comrades, but they too were now retreating in a running battle with that PLA battalion. The PLA for their part had been caught by surprise initially, but that hadn’t lasted long. There were now APC convoys coming down the road from the northeast with their headlights switched on in a show of defiance. Artillery had pounded the hills east of the village for an hour before a fresh PLA infantry Battalion had begun advancing across the river towards the eastern hills. The original Battalion that had been ambushed was now on holding status in the western outskirts of the village, clearing the remaining houses.
“Incoming...” Ngawang reported as he watched a PLA mortar platoon getting ready to drop smoke cover for t
heir advancing troops.
“Organized, disciplined...and predictable,” Gephel said as he made mental notes about the PLA tactics, equipment, logistics, command and control and ISR capabilities.
That was when a burst of gunfire rang out from one of the extreme western houses in the village. It caught everybody by surprise, Gephel and Ngawang included. They refocused their binoculars to find a section of PLA troops returning fire on a small house near whose door an officer now lay in a pool of blood. The tactical orientation of the Chinese forces had been eastwards thus far. Now there was confusion everywhere. There were several more grenade explosions that left three more soldiers dead on the main street of the village...
“Oh Shit!” Gephel said to no one in particular.
Although his team was not under fire, the fact was that the Chinese would soon begin advancing into these hills and more eyes would be facing this way now. The team ran an extreme risk of detection now more by accident rather than design. Sure enough, the first mortar shells were now hitting the foothills just below them. Gephel lowered himself behind cover and picked up his rifle with one hand; stowing his binoculars with the other while he shouted out orders:
“All right, we need to get out of here before they start searching these peaks. Move! Move! Move!”
IAF PHALCON AWACS,
OVER WESTERN LADAKH
MAY 15, 1848 HRS
“Inbound. Single-ship contact detected bearing two-one-nine heading southeast. Range two-one-zero kilo-mike. Angels thirty,” the radar console operator reported over the intercom. Wing-Commander Verma, the flight operations commander, was already walking over to the concerned console and peered at the computer screen over their shoulders.