Red Jihad

by Sami Ahmad Khan

  The Pouncing Panthers had moved to engage the Red Spiders and the bloody dogfight ensured that the unguided CBU-100/Mk-20 Rockeye anti-armour cluster bombs carried by the JF-17s hit mostly radar and signal installations nearby rather than Singh's T-90 tanks.

  The PAF fighter bombers were soon beaten back. An excited Singh was about to come out when an explosion, amplified by the radio, almost deafened him. A PAF fighter had managed to drop its bombs near him before being shot down.

  Singh waited for the all-clear, and opened the hatch to climb out. It was extremely dusty outside and smoke billowed in all directions. The dust storm and the smoke had reduced visibility to almost zero. Only the bright flame of a burning tank, hit by the lone aircraft's bomb, was visible. The men were safe and had taken shelter in another tank. They waved their helmet at him to indicate all was well. They would live to fight another day.

  Meanwhile, the dust storm started growing bigger in the distance. Visibility was rapidly falling. No use of eyes now, Singh thought, and clamped the tank hatch shut again and switched on the infrared. It was then that he saw them: the Pakistani tanks. Scores of them. Multiple contacts stretched all over the horizon. They were responsible for kicking such a dust storm. He saw armoured columns advance towards him. A tank stepped upon a mine and blew up.

  Their mines were working. Good, Singh thought. The tanks kept coming. Another couple of tanks exploded. The mines were working very well indeed, thought Singh as yet another tank blew up. Many of them hit the mines and blew up, but others kept coming.

  More explosions. More wrecks. Yet others kept taking their positions. They seemed to have innumerable tanks. Is the entire Pakistani army trying to break through this sector, Singh wondered.

  There were further explosions as the tanks advanced without pausing to reconsider. This puzzled Singh. Should they not be trying to evaluate what was taking such a heavy toll? Why were they not sweeping the mines first? Was it bad leadership or were they just too charged-up to think rationally? No man deserves to die like this. Not even the enemy.

  Singh was not able to look at them in the storm; he could only see their signature over the infrared. However, he wanted to confirm what he was seeing. He opened the hatch, climbed out of his T-90 and scanned the area with his binoculars. The tanks looked...weird.

  For the invasion, Singh expected Pakistan to send forth its creme de la creme – Al Khalid Main Battle Tanks (MBTs). However, this was not how the Al Khalid MBT-2000 looked like, Singh realized. Based on the Chinese Type 90-II MBT and Soviet technology that laid emphasis on decreasing the size of the tank, Al-Khalid was operated by a crew of three and was armed with an automatically-reloadable 125 mm smooth-bore tank gun. However, the 'tanks' approaching Singh's location were rather tiny. They were too small to be Al-Khalids.

  It was then that it struck him. He peered even more carefully at the tanks through his binoculars. Singh almost screamed. They were not tanks, he realized. They were old jeeps, driven by lone drivers or by jammed accelerators, modified with cardboards and made to look like tanks to fool the enemy. The mines are hitting the jeeps and damaging them, Singh deduced. They just want us to feel that we are doing damage.

  Nevertheless, where are their tanks? Singh's brain was whirring. He looked all around. He took a 180-degree turn in the direction of Jaisalmer and saw white umbrellas all over the sky.

  'What are they doing?' he muttered. And then he grasped the Pakistani tactic.

  God! They send their air force. We send ours. We think it is there to pave way for their attack. We beat them back into Pakistan and relax. Radars on Indian side are targeted by the Pakistani air force. Not by chance, but purposefully.

  We mine the border. They wait.

  We prepare. They wait.

  When a dust storm arrives, they send jeeps made to look like tanks, at least from a distance and lure us into a false sense of security as we see their 'tanks' unable to penetrate our defences. We lighten up. Just what they want.

  A dust storm. Approaching twilight. Zero visibility. Sensor ghosts. Malfunctioning radars. An over-confident enemy. Just what they want.

  And then, Singh thought bitterly, as satisfied Indians rub their bellies and congratulate each other, Pakistani armour and airborne troops para-drop behind the 262nd Cavalry and surround it. We are hit even before we realize it. Pakistani paratroopers commandeer Indian tanks, and drive them into India – with the Pakistanis acting as Prisoners of War. We wave them through with arrogance. They strike when they are within the range of a major city.

  What bastards! Who was their strategist? Rommel?

  Singh rushed towards the radio to warn others. He barely had time to climb into his tank and seal it shut when every speck of desert sand around him started to explode. The enemy tanks had started firing. It would take time for the tanks and turrets to move 180 degrees, until then, with precise attacks, tanks of the Pakistani II corps could decimate a lot of our own, thought Singh.

  'I will see you in hell,' screamed Singh, and ordered his tank to fire at the nearest Pakistani tank in range.

  He shouted on the radio to regroup and counter-attack. All he heard was static. The Pakistanis were jamming their communication frequencies. The battle was on.

  ____________________

  * Imagery Intelligence collects information via satellite and aerial photography.

  Aiwan-e-Sadr, Pakistan

  Local time: 2015 hours

  Date: 25 April 2014

  The room was not only tense but also beginning to get decisively gloomy, as the events of the day weighed down heavily on the shoulders of everyone present. The Chairman Joint Chiefs of Staff Committee (JSHQ), Chaklala, stood in front of a map and mournfully addressed the combined meeting of the president, the Cabinet and the military staff.

  'We are holding the line in Kashmir,' he began. 'The battle for Rajasthan is equally poised too. Both sides have rushed reinforcements for respective forces, but since we have already thrust whatever we had in the initial few hours and the Indians did not, a long line of unending Indian reinforcements are breaking the troop's morale. The fight is quite bloody. There are heavy casualties on both sides. We have to pay in blood for moving every single centimetre deeper into India.'

  'And now the bad news,' he continued, 'India has penetrated our border defences in Punjab. Our offensive was met with a counteroffensive that outmanned and outgunned us.'

  There were collective groans of anger mixed with shock. Punjab invaded! The president looked around helplessly until someone else spoke up.

  The air chief reported, 'As regarding the air, it is only a matter of time before IAF bursts through the defensive installations at the perimeter. PAF cannot hold them out much longer. We will lose air superiority and dominance over our airspace soon. About 100 of our aircrafts have been destroyed. About thirty per cent of our runways are no longer operational because of Indian attacks on our bases. PAF bases in Samungli and Chaklala are no longer combat-worthy. The Indians can cope up with what we throw at them, but we cannot.'

  'Same for the seas, sir. All my ships are engaged in defensive positions as the Indian navy tries to break through our defensive cordon and come in shelling distance of Karachi and Gwadar,' the Pakistani navy chief joined in, too.

  'At least on the land we have some fighting chance, but in the air and water we are completely routed…unless…' murmured the interior minister.

  'No they won't.' President Abbasi shook his head sadly, getting the drift. 'I have already talked to the Chinese premier. He has made it very clear that China is not willing to open a second front against India. Of course the Indian markets cater to them better than our own.'

  'But then we...' the voice of the defence minister trailed

  off.

  'Yes. Like all drills, we may have to fall back on our last resort. Can't we do without it?'' said the president, not realizing what he was saying.

  'You know as much as us. We need it. Now!' said the commander, Army Strategic
Forces Command, Rawalpindi.

  'So be it! Let us meet again in half an hour with detailed plans and specifications on how to utilize the bomb most effectively without causing any long term, permanent damage to us.'

  'Are you sure we need this?'

  'Do you have a better idea?'

  'Er...but we...'

  'Gentlemen, you have your orders,' said the president with finality.

  Integrated Defence Command Headquarters, New Delhi

  Local time: 2030 hours

  Date: 25 April 2014

  The prime minister sounded concerned, 'We seem to be winning the conventional war but...'

  'Yes, sir. Everything seems to be under control,' replied an officer.

  'Hmm...yes.'

  'But what if they...?' mouthed someone, quavering at the prospect.

  'They can't! It is too dangerous! The international community will sanction them forever,' someone said half heartedly, trying to reassure himself more than the others.

  A voice was almost taunting, desperately hoping to be proven wrong, 'Are you sure they won't?'

  'Well yes. They cannot deploy it...it is MAD.'

  'You are wrong, my friend. They just did.'

  The illusion was finally shattered.

  'The crazy bastards! Are you sure?' The defence minister could not believe his ears.

  'Yes, sir, positive. The Pakistani leadership has just called an emergency meeting of the Nuclear Command Authority. They may want to exercise the nuclear option.' General Malhotra's face was grim. Very grim.

  'So now that they are losing in conventional warfare, they want to nuke us!' said Admiral Sapra giving everyone an I-told-you-so look.

  'My God! How did it come to this?'

  'That is irrelevant. The question is what do we do now?' Malhotra tried to talk business.

  'We will defend ourselves. We need to safeguard civilian population and strategic food, fuel, military and economic assets,' Bipolab Roy gave the orders in a firm voice though his mind was whirring, thinking of the possible solutions to avert this impending catastrophe. If they resorted to nuclear warfare, he had to ensure India was able to rise out of its ashes.

  'But will we go nuclear?' asked the defence minister.

  'Of course we will retaliate...if we are struck first,' said PM Roy.

  'But we will not strike first?' Malhotra asked cautiously.

  'No. It is a matter of our official policy. We will not strike with nuclear weapons first. Ever,' Roy faltered. Others saw his hesitation. They realized that Roy understood the futility of such policy but was trying his best to find reasons to support it.

  'No pre-emptive strikes?' Malhotra asked again.

  'None,' PM Roy said.

  'Can't the policy be changed?' Malhotra continued, 'I find it self-defeating. Nuclear weapons are a credible deterrent, but if war is inevitable, it is logical to wipe out the enemy's capability to wage war or it will wipe out ours. What is the use retaliating if millions of lives have already been lost in the first strike directed against us. Can we let our morality hold ourselves back from defending the millions of our people who could be killed in the first strike by the enemy?'

  'I guess it is the Rangers Course speaking in you...'

  General Malhotra continued to drive his point home, 'Do you know we are the only nuclear power in the world with an officially declared no first-use policy? Even China says it will not attack first with nuclear weapons only if its enemy at that time is not a nuclear power. Please, I beg you to reconsider, millions of lives are at stake.'

  Prime Minister Roy responded, 'Millions of our lives at the expense of millions of their lives. I am still not convinced. However, since you are so insistent, let us come to Level 1 of nuclear alert, to be on the safe side. Let there be the highest state of preparedness to execute strike plans. We will decide upon the targets and any nuclear belligerence on the part of Pakistan would result in launch. But we will not use nuclear weapons first.'

  Roy shook his head and rushed out of the room, the enormity of the situation pressing upon his shoulders with sharp, biting claws.

  Aiwan-e-Sadr, Pakistan

  Local time: 2045 hours

  Date: 25 April 2014

  The final details of deploying the tactical nuclear device had been worked out and special units were on stand-by to initiate the mechanism. The time for relaying the final commands had come. President Abbasi looked at his men and was about to reach for the telephone for conveying the final sequence of codes to that effect when the door was flung open by an orderly.

  A shocked General Akram paraded in a red-faced Lieutenant General Asif Chowdhury, the military secretary.

  'Arre, General sahib. I was wondering where you were. I thought you were busy with some tactical matters so I did not even ask for you,' said the president.

  'The matters were very vital indeed,' Akram said and turned to stare at Chowdhury, who looked away.

  The president nodded in understanding, not realizing what was going on, and was about to dismiss the meeting when General Akram spoke up again, 'Sir, before this meeting breaks up, I want you to hear what our military secretary has to say. I was coming to this meeting when Chowdhury told me something truly incredible. I want you all to hear it.'

  'Of course. Any new, radical battle plans, eh, Chowdhury?' His reputation preceded him.

  Chowdhury merely hung his head. Had the people not known him better, they would have thought he was ashamed. Ashamed? Of what? Chowdhury came to the centre of the U-shaped table. His eyes downcast, his manners mild, and his voice soft. Very unlike the haughty man that he was.

  'India did not attack us,' he whispered.

  A chorus played, 'What?'

  'Are you kidding? Go to Lahore and see for yourself,' someone muttered.

  'Has the pressure gone to your head?' Another officer was furious.

  'I mean, yes of course the missile was fired at us, but it was not done by India. They were as clueless about it as we...er... you were.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I knew about the missile,' Chowdhury managed to say.

  'What? Why didn't you tell us?' President Abbasi said, hair at the back of his neck starting to stand up at this revelation.

  'I knew about the missile and I still did not tell you about the strike because...I ordered it,' Chowdhury said stoically.

  'What?' Someone almost screamed. The room was slowly coming to life again.

  'Chowdhury!'

  'How dare you!'

  'Lahore was not my target. How could I kill my own people?'

  'Then what are you talking about? Have you gone mad?'

  'Please let me explain. Some months ago, I met an old friend from SSG. Someone you all know. He was court-martialled for disobeying orders. He refused to fight fellow Pakistanis.'

  'Basheer? Yasser Basheer?' the president asked.

  'Yes.'

  'He came to my house in Rawalpindi. We had a long talk that day. I too was not happy with the army killing our own people in FATA and NWFP and the way we were handling things. He knew it.'

  'Yes, we know. So?'

  'He tempted me. He said that if I helped him, not only will the Pakistani army stop its operation against its own people as there will be no need for it, but also that we will be able to show India down, malign her reputation, and regain our lost glory. All done while preventing a civil war.'

  'What help did he want?'

  'He wanted supplies, primarily. And he wanted someone who could have taught novices a few tricks in ballistics and missile technology.'

  'You provided him that?'

  'Yes, with a little assistance from some rogue elements in PLA who were not happy about the recent bonhomie between India and China. All off the record, of course. Also, a major whose brother was killed by our army in NWFP volunteered to be the team leader.'

  'What did he intend to do with the men and material?'

  'He said he wanted to take over an Indian military base and launch a mi
ssile at India'.

  'Why did you comply?'

  'It achieved many of our objectives. One, it channelized the jihadi forces attacking our bases towards India. The attack on Mehran was still fresh in my mind. I wanted such people to go out and attack the actual enemy, not us. Two, such an act would have caused friction with India and consolidated our domestic position–we as a nation can only unite when we are under threat from India. That is the truth, though politically incorrect it may sound, and we needed such a wake-up call. Three, it would prove to the entire world that Indian weapons too could find their way into the hands of terrorists. Four, it destroyed the stability and security in the hearts of Indians.'

  'Launch a missile at India itself. Its own missile fired against India…no one to blame except her own self. It was a tempting offer. That sounds too good to be true!' interjected the director general of ISI. 'I can see why you agreed. What more could we have wanted? India fighting itself. Not to mention our forces here getting some breathing space.'

  'Are you both enemies of Pakistan or what?' shot back Abbasi, and turned to Chowdhury, 'Why didn't you have him arrested on the spot?'

  'He was a brother officer.'

  'Then why the hell did the missile hit Lahore?'

  'This is what stupefies me as well. I gave him the supplies, provided some men for training and assured him of all the support I could muster. His men were tasked to fire a missile at Delhi, with a conventional, low-yield warhead. Just to make them shake in their boots. They fired the missile. After that, Yasser Basheer went out of touch.'

  'But where did he get men do to such a thing?'

  'From the Taliban, where else would you find a bunch of such loonies? He hinted that he had support from some Indian anti-state groups too.'