by Vivek Ahuja
Bingde noted the Yulin off his port side to the northeast, operating in total darkness and wartime conditions. That did not make him very comfortable. They had another thousand kilometers of sailing to the southeast before they would be effectively out of the range of Indian naval forces. Over the last day they had been intermittently shadowed by long-range patrol aircraft, so Bingde knew that the Indian navy knew their location but had left it alone. He hoped that would continue.
As he watched, the Yulin superstructure became backlit with a flash of light and then a small smoke cloud as a missile rose into the air from its forward decks. The swishing noise and the rising plume of smoke trailing the missile exhaust caught the bridge crews of the merchant ships off guard and they all rushed to the ledge to see…
Then another missile fired and reached for the sky.
Bingde realized that the missiles fired were anti-air missiles. He ran to the door of the bridge and pulled it open:
“We are under attack! All personnel report to their stations! Prepare for damage control!”
The crew was still stunned by the abruptness of it all, and while they fumbled around trying to find their bearings, Bingde went back out on the ledge to see what the two navy Frigates were doing. He leaned over the railings to see the Changzhou turning course and gaining speed while the Yulin was continuing to ripple-fire its supply of HQ-9 anti-air missiles…
He spotted a speck of movement on the horizon to the northeast and brought up his binoculars to see. But the specks turned out to much faster than his actions. They quickly turned out to be long tubes flying several meters above the dark waters of the ocean. The Yulin opened fire on them with its close-in-weapon-systems: seven barreled cannons. The yellow-white tracers silhouetted the Yulin and lines of tracers flew out towards the incoming missiles.
Bingde had a moment to utter a curse just as one of the nearest incoming missiles exploded under hits from tracers but still the debris completely peppered the port side of the Yulin. He saw pieces of debris from the Yulin fly hundreds of feet into the air and the ship listed a little to the starboard before balancing.
That is when the second and third missiles went straight in…
The bone-jarring explosions ripped the ship superstructure apart. The starboard side of the Yulin was shredded into a thousand fragments of metal and these flew towards the Yuankou. Bingde instantly dived back through the door of the bridge and fell on his stomach as large pieces of metal shrapnel smashed through the glass and instantly killed several of his bridge crew. The ship rocked back and forth as the shockwave of the explosion rippled through the waters from the Yulin and hit the hull.
Then a large chunk of the superstructure of the Yulin fell on top of the cargo containers aboard the Yuankou, splitting the harnesses and dropping two of them into waters to the starboard, ripping a large gash on the side of the ship…
When Bingde finally got up, sirens were sounding across his ship as well as the others. He noticed blood splattered across the walls of the bridge and the bodies of his bridge crew lying around, several of them writhing in pain from injuries.
He brought his hands up to his face and saw the cuts and bruises from his fall. But otherwise he was in one piece. He was still shaking from the impact but managed to grab the railing and pull himself on to his feet. That was when he realized his arm was broken from the dive he had made. The pain was somewhat numbed from the fear pumping in his arteries.
He straggled back out on the observation area and saw to his horror the ocean waters on fire. Pieces of debris from the Yulin were all around him. He never did see what happened to the Yulin…
But the Yulin was already gone.
The Frigate Changzhou was also on fire, although the missile that had hit it had done so near the stern helicopter hanger. That hanger was no more. A large column of smoke was now rising from it with intermittent licks of flame within. And Bingde noticed that the ship was moving slower now, probably because of damage to the engines…
He walked back to the bridge to see that members of his crew had rushed in and were evacuating the wounded from the bridge. Others had taken over the ship’s controls. He walked over to the ship’s intercom and picked up the phone with his good hand to ask for the damage report.
But before he could hear an answer, a bridge officer shouted another warning. He let the phone hanging and ran back outside to see the Changzhou a kilometer to the north firing more surface-to-air missiles from its bow launchers. The plumes lifted vertically and then arced back to the northeast…
“More missiles inbound! Brace for impact!” Bingde shouted and took cover behind the metal walls of the bridge. He kept his head above to observe and saw three more long tubes moving at supersonic speeds for the disabled Changzhou.
There was no hope for her.
But only one of the missiles was targeted at her. It slammed into the port side of the ship near the bridge superstructure, destroying the bridge and left the ship listing to the starboard into the sea. The fires reached the missile warheads on board and the bow of the ship exploded, creating a massive hole as water swept in, sinking the ship with it.
The two remaining missiles flew past the sinking Changzhou. One flew past its sinking bow and the other past its stern. The missiles each hit a container ship in the convoy and balls of fire rising into the sky before turning into pillars of smoke, but the ships were still floating…
Bingde was still dazed from what had just happened before his eyes. He noticed his hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Captain! Incoming radio message from the Indians!”
He stood up and took a deep breath. He shook his head to wipe the fear and told himself that his crew would need him. He walked over to the radio operator: “Let’s hear it.”
The operator opened the channel for the bridge crew:
“To all Chinese merchant and naval vessels in the vicinity: this is Vice-Admiral Surakshan, commander of the Indian fleet. You are now inside my kill zone. If you value your life and the life of your crew, you will listen to what I have to say. Try to escape and you will meet the same fate as your escorts. Surrender your ships now and you will live. Send out your intentions by changing course to the north at best speed. It gives me no pleasure to take civilian lives, but I will hardly hesitate if I have to. Do not challenge me on this. You have seen just seen a taste of the power I wield in the Indian Ocean. You have ten minutes to comply.”
Bingde looked around at the shattered bridge of his ship and saw that the bridge-crew was looking at him in silence, waiting for orders…
He could not surrender his ship. There was a war on right now, but there would be an after-the-war as well. If he and his crew surrendered this ship to the Indians, they would pay the price for it when they got back home. They would be tried for treason and then severely punished.
But ignoring the Indian threat meant that they would face oblivion just like the crews of the Changzhou and the Yulin. They had no defenses on board other than small arms, and the Indians weren’t looking to forcibly board these ships so those weapons did not matter. He picked up the phone and asked for the comms officer to patch him through to the other Captains of the three remaining ships…
A few minutes of discussion later he sent out his radio message back on the same channel as Surakshan and spoke in English:
“Indian navy commander, this is Captain Bingde of the Chinese merchant shipping vessel Aaa-Fu Yuankou. We are carrying civilian supplies to China and are unarmed. We must be allowed to pass unhindered. We will not surrender these ships!”
“Very well, Captain,” Surakshan replied. “I will give you and your crew exactly thirty minutes to abandon ship and get to a safe distance. After that I will hit your ships with missiles. This is your only warning!”
“Unfortunately I cannot do that, sir,” Bingde said calmly. “I repeat again: I am an unarmed merchant ship and in international waters. I will not submit my ship and my crew to your blatant hostility!”
The channel clicked off.
Bingde looked around and saw the fear on the faces of his bridge crew. He could not order the abandoning of this ship. But he also could not sacrifice his crew in good conscience. The Indians were going beyond the rules now on the high seas and there wasn’t much his own navy could do about it. He realized that his options were very limited. He picked up the speaker for the ship’s intercom:
“All hands, this is your Captain speaking. I order you all to abandon ship right now. I say again: abandon ship! Get as far away from the ship as you can. Go!”
He put the speaker down and looked at the bridge crew: “You all need to leave as well! Go! Now!”
“What about you, sir?” the radio-operator said. Bingde smiled.
“I belong on the bridge. I would rather meet my end here than in a labor camp somewhere. Now please leave!”
Fifteen minutes later the four remaining ships of the convoy were floating dead in the water with a dozen motor-lifeboats streaming away from them.
Bingde watched from the abandoned bridge as the small lifeboats moved away. He picked up his binoculars and walked out on the observation deck. He had tied a make-shift sling for his broken left arm in this time. He checked his watch and realized it was more than half-an-hour since his radio conversation with the Admiral. The Indian commander was giving him more time than he had promised. He held on to the railing as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the deck of the ship and the skies above became light blue.
A glorious day out on the high seas…
He just about saw the incoming missiles when they hit his ship near the stern, ripping the rails from his hands in a jerk and sent him flying into the air and into the waters below. By the time he came back up to the surface, trying to stay afloat with just one hand, he saw the hull of the Yuankou buckling and flexing after having taken high power hits from several Indian missiles. He saw large holes on the side of the ship from which black smoke was spewing out into the blue skies above. The cargo containers on the top deck broke loose under the strain and splashed into the waters. He had just enough time to look around the roiling waters to see the other three ships also on fire before one of the loose containers from the deck broke loose and fell right over him…
CHINESE STRATEGIC AIR CENTER
KASHGAR
CHINA
DAY 9 + 0800 HRS
The smoke was still rising into the cold morning sky. Feng coughed as some of it reached his lungs as he stepped out of the staff car. Once he cleared his bout of cough, he took the protective goggles Major Li handed him. He put it on and looked around to see the aftermath of the devastating strike that had taken place here.
From where he stood near the exit of his underground command center, he could see a tower of flames in the distance from what had been the buried fuel-farm for the airbase. He could see hundreds of PLA soldiers now at the base assisting the beleaguered PLAAF personnel and civilian fire-fighters as they attempted to make the airbase operational again.
That is going to take time!
One look at the devastation at the airbase had convinced Feng that Kashgar was now out of this war.
While the runway could be made operational in a few hours, it would take more time to replace all the personnel, equipment and vehicles destroyed by the sensor-fused weapons. Many of the unexploded bomb-lets dispersed by the fleeing Jaguars were severely hindering clean-up operations.
Feng could also see the crashed wreckage of three J-7s from the resident 17TH Air Regiment that had returned to the airbase after their fight with the Indian Su-30s over Hotien only to find the runway cratered and their airbase on fire. The pilots had no choice but to eject from their aircraft outside the base perimeter once they ran out of fuel.
The 17TH Air Regiment is gone!
Kashgar airbase is gone!
And a precious airborne aircraft as well as six J-11s are gone!
Feng fumed with rage at the devastation and saw Major Li removing his bags from the car and taking it to the parked Mi-17s that had flown in from Aksu-Wensu airbase to the northeast. That was the nearest airbase with an operational runway at this point.
From there they would board fixed wing aircraft to take them to Korla. The PLAAF operations center at Kashgar was now no longer considered safe and Chen had ordered its evacuation. Once there, they would be based alongside the operations staff of the 26TH Air Division and would have effective fighter cover from the 19TH Fighter Division forces based at several airbases nearby.
The problem was that Korla was over a thousand kilometers to the northeast. In effect, moving to Korla meant that entire south-western Chinese airspace was now effectively abandoned.
But not lost yet!
Feng reminded himself that the airspace was not being handed over to the Indians. And heavy fighters such as J-11s based at Urumqi and Korla could easily patrol the region with airborne radar coverage.
But challenging the skies was very different from owning them. They could now no longer intercept each and every Indian mission over that region of Chinese airspace. And that was bad news for the PLA forces in Ladakh…
“You ready?”
Feng turned around to see Chen walking over from his staff car. Feng sighed and released his anger. His fists became loose again and blood rushed to his knuckles. Chen nodded as he understood the emotion.
“Nothing to be done here, Feng,” he said and looked at the firefighters hosing down a blazing section of the terminal some distance away. “At least not by you and me. We are needed in Korla. Let’s go.”
He patted Feng on the back and then waved to the flight-crew of the Mi-17s to start pre-flight. Both men walked over to the nearest helicopter and walked on board through the open rear ramp. A few minutes later the first of three Mi-17s lifted off the helipad and nosed down towards the northeast, picking up airspeed as it left Kashgar behind…
NORTH OF DOTANANG
NORTHERN BHUTAN
DAY 9 + 0900 HRS
The 11TH Para-SF Battalion and a BMP-II equipped mechanized-infantry platoon had fought their way to Dotanang and seized the village without much of a fight. There was a reason for that. The PLA Battalion there had simply melted away to the north just as Misra’s forces had reached the southern end of the village.
It had been a tactical withdrawal that had been conducted professionally by the Chinese. Now the Indians in Dotanang were fully expecting to be struck by a Chinese counter-attack on the village and were digging in…
The valley became abuzz with noise as a Nishant UAV flew over the valley north of Dotanang. The sunlight glinted off the top armor of the BMP-IIs parked on the narrow muddy roads of the village and was easily spotted by the UAV operators as the electro-optical pod on board looked around for Chinese activity further north.
The flight-crew followed the snow-covered dirt path along the small river that went north into the valley. The drone had advanced a good half-dozen kilometers north of the village when flashes of light suddenly erupted all around and lines of tracers flew by. The valley below suddenly erupted with rapid thud-thud-thud noises as the airspace around the drone lit up with shrapnel.
The drone operators at Haa-Dzong to the south initiated evasive maneuvers and the drone banked to the side, turning south while climbing. To no avail. The sky around it was awash with red-hot shrapnel and tracer fire. Several of these ripped through the wings and perforated the boxy fuselage. The drone broke up under the impacts and disappeared in a small fireball on its way down into valley…
“Oops! There go our eyes in the sky!” Vikram noted from his position, two kilometers north of where the drone went down. The tracer fire stopped as the wreckage slammed into the trees a few kilometers north of the village and a column of black smoke rose into the blue sky above. The valley went quiet once again.
“So now we know the
Chinese have some decent anti-air capability north of here,” Ravi said as he tucked his Tavor rifle tighter into his chest.
He heard a grunted agreement over the comms.
“Yeah, no shit!” Pathanya said finally as he lowered his binoculars. “We could have used that information five minutes ago!”
He keyed his comms: “Vik, get the IMFS out and see if you can spot the guns that fired on our bird. Their tracer rounds gave us a pretty clear idea where they are on the road. Let’s confirm it.”
“Roger. Deploying IMFS,” Vikram said and pulled back from the boulders he was using as cover on the ledge overlooking the valley below. He put his rifle on the rocks and motioned to Sarvanan to cover him. He then pulled down his backpack and removed the IMFS.
“Okay reds, let’s see what you have down there,” Vikram said to himself as he crawled on his stomach over the boulders and set up the IMFS. Visually there was not much to see. The trees on the hillsides pretty much denied any direct sighting. He switched to infrared and depressed the button for white-hot so that all high temperature sources were shaded down from white in order of decreasing radiated temperature.
The background valley including the trees and the rocks instantly became black with shades of dark gray. The 4x4 wheeled anti-air vehicles now being used by the Highland Division against Indian aircraft and drones lit up as white with light gray colors. The pure white coloration showed the engines of the vehicles and the hot barrels of the 35mm guns on the back of the chassis that had ripped the Nishant UAV to shreds.
Vikram whistled and then keyed the comms:
“Boss, the reds have brought in some vehicles. I count two light-armor four-by-fours with multi-barrel anti-aircraft guns. I also see several other light-utility vehicles and what looks like a single six-by-six wheeled armored vehicle with a strange turret on top. Can’t make out the model but it is not a tank turret. Possible anti-air vehicle as well.”
Pathanya looked over to Ravi with a raised eyebrow on hearing this.