Chimera

by Vivek Ahuja

  “Maybe they are on a timetable for something.” Pathanya offered.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Or maybe,” Pathanya continued, “they know this is their only window for capturing Thimpu before our boys arrive and turn this place into a fortress. Look, I have enough things to worry about here. Let’s leave the speculation to warlord and his commanders. Stay sharp and keep your eyes peeled!”

  As Pathanya chimed out, Vikram remained lost in thought.

  He was pulled out of it when the first flashes of light appeared further north and the Chinese battalion lost its headquarters to murderous fire from Hotel-Six rockets. Twenty near-simultaneous flashes destroyed the Chinese ability to control the momentum to Thimpu. While they sorted it out, they gave Colonel Misra the time he desperately needed to deploy into the Bhutanese capital.

  ABOVE SOUTHERN TIBET

  DAY 7 + 1345 HRS

  The three flights of J-8IIs from the PLAAF 37TH Fighter Division lit afterburners and accelerated away from their H-6U tankers. As the sunlight glinted from their cockpits, the pilots of the nine J-8IIs could see the three Su-30MKKs from the 33RD Fighter Division flying a few thousand feet above their tankers on BARCAP duty…

  The J-8II squadron-commander realized that these Flankers were not going to provide support to his pilots today. Not after their murderous losses in the last seven days. The remaining Chinese Su-27/30s in theater were now being pooled from various depleted squadrons and tasked with defensive missions.

  What that meant for the less-prestigious mud-movers like the J-8II and J-7 units was not something the squadron-commander wanted to dwell on today. As they left the tankers and their precious escorts behind, the J-8IIs switched off afterburners, spread into a loose formation and headed south.

  Once again the PLAAF had been tasked with hitting Paru airport. A J-10 unit had done this successfully the day before. And died doing it. Not one single pilot had returned from the eight aircraft sent. But the attack had been successful and Feng and Chen were pleased enough to try it again. This time they were throwing a J-8II squadron on the job.

  The PLA General leading the Highland Division on the ground in Bhutan was convinced that the airport at Paru must be shut down permanently in order to secure victory. As one of the only theaters where any chance of success now lay for the battered PLA, Beijing had allocated priority and Wencang had been asked to assist with his fighter-bombers.

  Then there was also the issue of a Indian MBRL battery at Paru, which was laying waste to the Highland Division’s attempts to break into, and capture, Thimpu. Chinese satellites had located the battery north of Paru and three of the J-8IIs were tasked with the elimination of that target. Another three were armed purely for air-to-air combat.

  The squadron-commander knew what he was leading his men into. That was why he was commanding this mission despite strict orders from his regiment’s political officer. Everybody knew what the chances of survival from this mission were.

  But if they could get in and strike their targets, that was all that would matter at this point. If they were lucky, some of them would make it back. If not, they would most likely be ejecting over areas of Bhutan already under control of the Highland Division…

  The squadron-commander checked the map display in front of him and then scanned the sky around. Ten more minutes before he would order his flights to hit the deck and approach the Bhutanese border as low as possible. For now, fuel was to be conserved for combat.

  A KJ-2000 AWACS to the north was providing him airborne radar coverage. His radar warning receiver squawked and started giving warnings. The Indian AEW radar had spotted them…

  But we are still ten minutes out from our low-profile phase!

  He double checked his maps. The Indian AEW bird was flying far towards the north and probably over northern Bhutan right then!

  But why?

  It didn’t matter. Not then anyway. He switched on his radio and spoke to the rest of his squadron pilots:

  “The Indians know we are here! They venture into our territory today! We will improvise. A low-level approach no longer matters for the air-to-air flight. Punch your tanks and accelerate to cover us! Engage their patrols and buy us time to break through to our targets. All others: watch for enemy fighters! Go!”

  All nine J-8IIs dropped their external tanks in unison, punched afterburners and accelerated. The six ground-strike aircraft dived low while the three aerial escorts climbed to higher altitude and went active on missile tracking radars. The RWR inside his helmet was now continually screeching. His own AWACS told him that three Indian Su-30s were accelerating to meet his force north of the Bhutanese border.

  They wish to fight us on our own soil today!

  So be it!

  He pulled his aircraft as low above the plains of Tibet as he dared. In front of him, the snowcapped peaks of the Greater Himalayas were approaching on the horizon…

  Three streaks of white smoke appeared above those peaks and headed north, above his head. The Indians had engaged his air-to-air equipped flight above him. He saw six streaks of smoke heading south in retaliation from that flight. He risked turning his head momentarily above and saw two fireballs falling out of the sky.

  Those bastards!

  The three Indian Su-30s engaged their powerful electronic-warfare suites to spoof the incoming missiles at the same time as they dropped chaff and flares. They had dived low, pulled north of the peaks on the Bhutanese border and slashed back over Tibet. The Group-Captain leading the offensive fighter-sweep over the Tibet was having a pleasant day…

  “King-Hammer to all Hammer elements: Engage! Engage! Don’t let any of these bastards get home for lunch today!”

  He snapped his massive Sukhoi to its side and noticed several J-8IIs streaking below him at low altitude and heading south. They saw him at about the same time as he saw them. Hammer-Two and Hammer-Three were busy finishing off the last J-8II at high altitude. So he pulled the stick back and brought the aircraft into a very tight turn until he could see the yellow nozzle exhausts of his opponents in front of him. Two of those now dropped their heavy ordinance and lit afterburners to pull up and engage…

  “So you two will go first!”

  He pulled the control-stick. The first J-8II had just finished punching off its ordinance and had no energy advantage relative to King-Hammer’s Sukhoi. A quick burst of cannon fire chopped that Chinese fighter’s port wing from the fuselage in short order.

  As that aircraft broke up in flight and tumbled out of the sky, the other J-8II was punching off flares and was already turning to get behind him. King-Hammer was busy with his first prey enough that he didn’t notice the threat on his tail until a line of tracers flashed by the cockpit, barely missing the aircraft.

  “This guy knows his trade!” he noted and punched both afterburners while climbing into the sky, taking advantage of the large thrust-to-weight ratio of the Sukhoi against the J-8II in the vertical plane. Sure enough, he left his quarry behind, leading him on with lines of chaff and flares. But before he could think about re-engaging, a missile streaked from the side and slammed into his tormentor, blotting it out of the sky in a shower of debris. Hammer-Two streaked across the sky on both afterburners…

  “Sorry boss! You took my kill, so I took yours!” King-Hammer heard over his radio. He responded back with a bemused grunt.

  “Don’t get cocky, boy! Now: where are the rest of these buggers?”

  ABOVE THE NORTHERN BHUTAN-TIBET BORDER

  DAY 7 + 1430 HRS

  As Hammer flight continued to wrest control of the air over southern Tibet from the PLAAF, another flock of Su-30s were out to do the same with the PLA air-defenses…

  Six Su-30s were flying line abreast of each other and were devoid of all weaponry except a pair of R-73 missiles each. Their main focus today was not aerial dominance through air-combat but through the defeat of the Chinese air-defense environment. Each aircraft carried underneath the centerline pylon one air-launche
d Brahmos ALCM.

  One after the other, the six fighters released their heavy cargo and rose higher due to reduced weight. As the six ALCMs fell clear, dropping a hundred feet below their parent aircraft, their boosters lit up with a smoky flame and propelled them beyond the launch aircraft for a few seconds before running out of thrust. Slight compressive clouds formed around the missile bodies as they crossed the sonic barrier. There was little to no humidity at these altitudes. Then a smokeless ramjet motor lit up and accelerated the missiles to three times the speeds of sound…

  Their job done, the six fighters flipped on their sides, broke formation and dived back to the south.

  The ALCMs broke into two groups in flight. One group deviated slightly to the east and the other to the west. The two groups separated quickly and moved away from visual range in short order.

  Then there were more missiles in the skies around them.

  Their intended targets had seen the incoming threats and engaged. As the S-300 battery near Shigatse airbase to the west and the other deployed near Lhasa launched missiles, the Brahmos ALCMs went into terminal maneuver mode. This ate up fuel at extraordinary rates and dramatically reduced the overall range of the missile. This was why Hammer flight had gone in over southern Tibet to sweep the skies for the launch aircraft.

  It had been mere coincidence for the J-8II squadron that their mission had coincided with this Indian operation. They had paid the price for their bad luck, but they were not the only ones doing so that day…

  The terminal maneuvering of the Brahmos missiles at such high speeds created claps of thunder heard all over the plains below as they ALCMs turned and weaved to throw off their interceptors.

  Three missiles were knocked out by the S-300s in the minute worth of interception time. Two ALCMs from the Lhasa group and one from the Shigatse group were knocked out of the sky.

  The two missiles from the Shigatse group hit their targets in quick succession. They exploded within the valley around the airfield and a few hundred feet above the dispersal areas of the S-300 battery. The resulting overpressure wave demolished everything within a two-hundred meter radius near both locations, killing the launch crews and the radar vehicles in split-seconds.

  To the east, the single surviving missile for the Lhasa battery also hit its desired target and took out the battery vehicles. In both locations, large, brown mushroom clouds of dust rose into the air and were easily visible on Indian satellites that passed overhead. A tasking order went out to the IAF Eastern Air Command to prepare anti-radiation strike packages for the surviving Chinese radars in southern Tibet. A large gaping hole had just been carved out of the Chinese air-defenses.

  THIMPU

  BHUTAN

  DAY 7 + 1600 HRS

  “Delta-Flight inbound westerly.”

  The intra-team comms squawked with Ravi’s voice as Pathanya walked down the stone steps behind the large palace. He was escorted by a group of Bhutanese officials a few steps behind him. Pathanya had an intimidating appearance with his six foot height and build. It didn’t help for them to see the rifle slung on his chest and the sunglasses he was wearing over the white and brown boonie hat. He had finally washed the war-paint off his face but his uniform was still stained with blood. To the locals he was something just short of a demon, symbolizing everything that was currently happening with their small mountainous kingdom. But he didn’t care.

  He walked up to another team member standing at the base of the steps. He was similarly dressed and equipped as Pathanya.

  “Give me your optics,” Pathanya ordered silently.

  The soldier handed Pathanya his binoculars without uttering a word and went back to scanning the peaks around for suspicious activity. Pathanya continued walking down to the north end of the concrete pad where Ravi was waiting with his binoculars to his eyes.

  The first whipping noises of the helicopters were now reverberating in the valley. As Pathanya brought up his own binoculars to confirm the inbounds, Ravi lowered his and glanced at the officials.

  “God. How much did you scare them?” he chuckled.

  “Just enough,” Pathanya replied without looking away from his binoculars, “to get them to sign off on using this place as a jump-off point for the incoming reinforcements.”

  Once he was satisfied that the inbounds were helicopters from Paru, he lowered his scopes. They were still thirty seconds out.

  “Just remember that once the Colonel is on the ground, he is in command of Thimpu. And we act like it. So lose the informality. No more ‘boss’ shit? I am now ‘sir’ to all you bozos until we are back out in the bushes. Get it?” Pathanya ordered.

  The inbound Mi-17 and one of the two Dhruv helicopters slowed to a hover, allowing the third Dhruv to flare for landing on to the pad.

  “Yes sir, I got it,” Ravi retorted. Pathanya smiled.

  “Good. Then pass the word along.”

  Ravi walked away to check on the rest of the team. The Dhruv landed amidst a flurry of snow raised by its main rotors. The side-doors of the helicopter slid open and a small group of Paras in full combat gear jumped out, their weapons in their hands. As their Lieutenant began shouting orders, they began spreading out from the pad, joining Spear team members on the perimeter of the palace.

  The last man in the helicopter stepped out wearing the red-beret of the Paras and two red-collar tabs of a Colonel. Pathanya ran over as the snow flurry intensified and the Dhruv leapt off the pad, clearing it for the next hovering helicopter in line. Pathanya shook hands with Colonel Misra as both men held on to their headgear until they sprinted off the pad and onto the stone steps leading into the palace.

  “Let me guess. You are Pathanya. Spear team-leader?” Misra asked.

  “Sir.”

  Misra stopped at the head of the stairs and looked around Thimpu from there as the second Dhruv lifted off the pads and cleared the way for the Mi-17. Each helicopter rotated back to Paru airport to pick up the next load of soldiers. Pathanya saw the spreading mass of paratroopers and nodded in approval.

  Finally!

  “Give me a layout of your unit positions here,” Misra ordered.

  “Yes sir,” Pathanya said, looking away from the incoming soldiers and pointed to the north with his left arm. “I have a three-man O-P over there in the outskirts about three-quarter kilometer from here. They have been spotting for the friendly arty as we held off the assault on Thimpu. I have five men here providing security for this L-Z and I have about three dozen RBA soldiers that I have absorbed into my command. Their own commander fell during the shelling at Wang-Chu about six kilometers north from here, two days ago. So they fell back here. I have deployed them in dominant positions on the perimeter around this L-Z. The O-P team is ordered to fall back here in case the Chinese break through into the city.”

  Misra nodded his approval. Pathanya had done well given the circumstances. He looked at the group of Bhutanese officials who had followed them up the stairs…

  “Who the hell are these guys?”

  Before Pathanya could speak, the senior Bhutanese official stepped forward and spoke in clear English:

  “These guys, as you say put it, are the officials of the government whom we hope you are here to protect. We are here to offer the services of the Royal-Guards unit to the defense of our capital. They are our most loyal and well-trained soldiers.”

  “We shall see.” Misra noted. “But just so we are clear. General Potgam is the overall commander for Joint-Force-Bhutan as per the treaty arrangements made by your King with New-Delhi yesterday. So I need you to go get your men organized and send their commanding officer to me. In the meantime I am taking control of these buildings as my staging area for the defense of this city. Is that clear?”

  The Bhutanese official nodded and went back to his group. He explained to them what all needed to be done and the group soon walked away. Pathanya turned to Misra once they were again alone.

  “Sir, I see that the 11TH Para is now deploying. Wh
at are my orders?”

  Misra considered that for a few moments. Both men turned to see another Mi-17 approaching from Paru. This was the direct approach vector now that the first troops were on the ground. This flight was bringing in men and equipment for the battalion headquarters.

  “Captain, get your men together and reinforce your O-P. Once my companies start assembling, I am going to move them out to seal all entrances to the city. 11TH Para is just the tip of the iceberg. More battalions and even some light-armor are inbound. Once that happens we will be taking the fight to the enemy. In the meantime, get your team ready. I want them rested and rearmed. We will be dropping you behind enemy lines soon enough. How do you like that idea, Captain?” Misra said with a smile.

  “Sir, I think that’s the best idea I have heard all day.”

  EAST OF DAULAT BEG OLDI

  LADAKH

  DAY 7 + 1900 HRS

  “Say that again! Over!” Kulkarni turned away from his optics and pressed his helmet earpiece closer to his ears. The utter chaos of combat was drowning out the incoming radio traffic…

  “Rhino-One, this is steel-central! Do you read?” the radio screeched.

  Kulkarni strained to understand what was coming through. In the background his gunner was shouting targets and requesting main-gun ammo from the loader, who was shouting back confirmations. The cordite smell and smoke inside the turret was nauseating. The shudder of the turret with each shot fired and the rattle of the co-axial machinegun fire just added to the cacophony.

  “Yes! This is Rhino-One! I read you! Steel-central, we are in heavy contact with enemy dismounts at point-victory! Enemy infantry attempting flanking maneuvers from surrounding hills! We need back up! Over!”

  “Rhino-On…This…Central! Can you confirm!” the radio screeched again just as the tank shuddered on recoil.

  “Negative! Negative! I do not copy! Say again steel-central!”

  The radio screeched with static.