Red Jihad

  Dadwal said, 'And since we have had no news of that rescue, we can only infer that this submarine was commanded by someone friendly with Yasser Basheer.'

  'Which nation will be friendly with him? Could it be a rogue sub?' asked Lieutenant Commander Sudhir Jain.

  'Rogue? Is not a submarine going rogue big news? It would have been in the headlines all over the globe,' replied Dadwal.

  'If it was leaked,' countered Jain.

  'But this is big news. We should have known about it.'

  'Money can do wonderful things, my friend. Almost any country could have sold that submarine to whoever currently commanded it. Or it could have changed hands till it reached its current owners, who, it seems, are hand in glove with Basheer,' the wizened old sailor Mansoor spoke.

  The captain, who had been silent until now, spoke up, 'We will find them, sir. INS Chakra too is actively pinging all possible routes the sub may have taken.'

  'The submarine will try to get as far as possible. The moment we find it, we move to intercept, but remember, weapons have not been authorized till now. Await specs from IDNI.'

  'Yes, and we have orders to operate in this sector only. Strict orders from the admiral himself. I do not know why,' confessed Mansoor, 'but this is precisely what we are going to do. Let's go!'

  The meeting dispersed and the officers headed to their respective stations to complete the task assigned.

  ____________________

  * Signals Intelligence is intelligence-gathering by interception of signals, whether between people (COMINT), or involving electronic signals not directly used in communication (ELINT), or a combination of the two.

  On-board Ghazi, Arabian Sea

  Local time: 0800 hours

  Date: 27 April 2014

  Yasser Basheer was given a set of clean clothes after he had had a much-needed wash. He dressed and ate in the small space allotted to him, his privacy maintained by greasy curtains, space being a premium in submarines.

  Basheer was just finishing the last morsel when the curtain parted and a man poked his head in. He looked at Basheer and barked, 'Come. The sheikh will see you now.' He stalked off without waiting to hear Basheer's answer.

  It was not a request. The message was clear. Basheer was on this boat for a purpose, and he better fulfill it. He followed the agile man past the narrow corridors of the submarine. Basheer tried to avoid hitting his head in the cramped spaces. Soon, he reached an unmarked area and his guide ushered him in.

  Basheer entered and looked around the small room. It was tiny but clean. He saw something move. A man stood up, smiling warmly. Basheer saw his face, and something registered. Something important. Basheer started so hard that his head hit the wall. Pain blinded him for a second. Pain. Surprise. Shock.

  Fear.

  He moaned. The man paternally took Basheer's arm and seated him. When Basheer regained his senses, he fell grovelling at the person's feet.

  'Janaab...! Sheikh! You! How can it be! They say you were killed in Abbotabad. They say the ISI betrayed you to the Americans...' The man had been the US' most wanted fugitive, and if recent reports were to be believed, he had been killed by the US forces at his hide-out in a posh town in Pakistan. However, doubts were expressed about the credibility of those reports since nobody, other than those who claimed to kill him, had seen the body of the deceased man.

  The eyes of Basheer's interlocutor twinkled as he said, 'They say a lot of things. Do you believe them all?'

  'Er...no, sheikh, no.' Basheer felt like a schoolboy being chastised by his idol.

  It was then that realization hit him. The man who was killed by SEALs in May 2011 was only a lookalike. Basheer's boss had told him that although he suspected the sheikh was not really dead, he needed proof before going public. The world needed to know the truth. And all of Basheer's efforts were directed to ferret out that truth. It was now or never.

  'Believe only in what Allah says. Everything else is irrelevant. We came in this world not only with the purpose to make it a better place as per the will of Allah but also to prepare others for after-life. All this,' the sheikh pointed at the walls of the submarines 'is temporary. Only jannat and dozakh are permanent.'

  Basheer nodded and asked, 'Why am I here, sheikh?'

  'Why? Do you want to be someplace else?' the sheikh enquired teasingly, his tone alternating between the mocking and the scary.

  Basheer was almost horrified by the soft tone and the slight touch of insanity in the man. He fumbled for the right words.

  'I heard that you were looking for a place to hide as India and Pakistan were after you,' the sheikh went on.

  Basheer merely nodded. He opened his mouth to explain but was cut short, 'I know you were the one responsible for changing the target of the missile and direct it at Lahore. How many innocent Pakistanis died that day because of you!' The eyes were no longer merry.

  All of a sudden, Basheer felt scared. Sweat appeared on his brows. He heard the man continue, 'Basheer, I know who you are. I know where your loyalties lie. You need not pretend any longer.'

  Basheer gulped, did he really know? However, before he could say anything, the man continued, 'I know killing your compatriots would have been hard for you. Nevertheless, what you did was in our best interests. Casualties did ensue, but they were infidels who died. They were the ones who supported the army's operations against us and treated us as pariahs. Let us not waste our tears on them. Basheer, my brother, you have done well to merit a place amongst my choicest followers. You caused India and Pakistan to gnaw at each other's throats so that the lives of our brethren could be saved and our movement could continue. Well done!' He patted Basheer on his back and said, 'I appreciate your bravery.'

  'You know of that, sheikh?' Basheer felt exhilarated, and at once, immensely relieved. All was not lost. He could not believe that here he was, being praised by the most wanted man in the world.

  'Word travels fast,' was all that the sheikh said.

  Basheer was almost crying with joy. 'What do you want me to do, sheikh?' he asked. Even if the man asked him to swim naked with sharks in the Indian Ocean, he would have done it.

  The sheikh realized it was time to make his offer. Any earlier or later would not have had the same impact. The timing of when to ask people to follow decided to what extent people were willing to go for a leader.

  He said, 'Basheer, join my closest group of followers in spreading the true message, and in fighting the vile powers of Western hegemony. I need men like you–dedicated, fierce, loyal and intelligent.

  'But you have so many like me,' Basheer tried to be humble.

  'I do not want mindless suicide bombers. I have many of them. I want someone who can think on a macro-scale,' the man confessed, 'someone who can look at the larger picture and help me to make plans and plenty of contacts so that we can utilize all the resources at our disposal.'

  Basheer was ecstatic. 'I would be honoured to help you, sheikh.'

  'Good, Basheer! From this moment, you have become an integral part of Al-Qaeda.' Basheer felt so elated that he hugged the man. 'Come, now we must go to the bridge', the man said. 'We have some unfinished business to attend to.'

  Basheer followed him with a spring in his step.

  ♦

  The Chinese-built, Belarus-modified, Type 09 SSN was purchased covertly and symbolized the legacy of the puissant Soviet war-machine. Having been renamed Ghazi by the man himself, it currently lay dormant on the seabed as an Indo-Pakistani Task Force searched the oceans. Ghazi was intentionally dead in water, perched on a reef. Shoals of deep sea fishes swam by, unaware of the powerful monster that lay just metres away from them. There was just one difference. This dormant beast knew where its enemy was. The enemy, on the other hand, was blissfully ignorant of Ghazi's presence.

  'Are you sure we do not have a sonar signature?' the sheikh asked his bridge crew.

  'Absolutely sure,' the captain replied, 'I have fully integrated the submarine with the reef and based
on the positions of the task group, their sonar scans cannot reach us.'

  'You are an experienced man. I trust you, Captain,' replied the sheikh as the captain reddened at the praise.

  A machine beeped. The captain went towards it, checked the console for a moment, and reported, 'Two ships of the task force are in torpedo range. A Pakistani Sword-class frigate and an Indian Kiev-class carrier. They will be out of range in seven minutes if they maintain their present bearing and speed.'

  'Hmmm...Kiev class, did you say? An aircraft carrier?' the sheikh asked. It seemed like a long time ago that he had to memorize designs of Soviet war crafts, aerial and naval, to be able to find flaws in them for successful counter-attacks. His memory still served him well.

  'Yes,' the captain said, realizing what his master was thinking.

  'I preferred to remain hidden but this seems like a worthy target,' the sheikh said.

  'I would advise against it. The torpedoes could be traced back to us,' the captain spoke up apprehensively. His primary duty was defence, not offense.

  'Well, I would have to admit that the aircraft carrier is pretty tempting, especially in light of recent events,' the man glanced meaningfully at Basheer and continued, his tone changing to brittle lava, steel creeping into his voice, and a strange glow in his eyes, 'for too long we have remained hidden. Too long have we been on the defensive. Now with a new strategist in our team, I say we take our fight to the infidels.'

  The man turned to his latest protege, 'What do you say, Basheer?'

  Basheer was a little surprised by the sudden change in the man from a paternal figure to a commander of retribution. But then he knew what he had to do. He had to match his ferocity and dedication with his own. Basheer's lips curved and he hoarsely whispered, 'Kill them, sheikh. It will be a great triumph for us. It would strike terror in their cowardly hearts. Attack them! They need to know our leader is still alive!'

  The captain was watching the two men with subtle disdain. He did not like the idea of giving away their position, but he had sworn to follow the man in his company. 'Orders, sheikh?' he asked.

  The man laughed, his eyes twinkled, but there was no warmth behind them, 'So be it. Attack them, Captain. Hit them hard. It must be the end of this aircraft carrier.'

  'Might I be bold enough to add another thing?' ventured Basheer. At an encouraging nod from the man, he continued, 'After we hit them, let us immediately run in the opposite direction, at full speed.'

  The sheikh looked at Basheer and then made a quick gesture to the captain, who understood that the order was to be implemented at once. The captain barked orders and the sub started coming to life.

  On-board INS Doon, Arabian Sea

  Local time: 0830 hours

  Date: 27 April 2014

  The destroyer was about to be destroyed. Damn the unknown sonar signature, cursed Ranjan Pandey, the Officer of the Watch (OOW), and realized his day was going to get a hell lot worse. The fact that his ship, Delta Zero Seven, was most likely going to suffer a fate worse than his did not make him feel any better.

  Pandey saw something streaking towards the ship, something that he immediately recognized from hours of training demonstrations. Identification of such streaks was the primary goal of such classes. Always be observant. Raise an alarm on time. Live.

  Pandey tried to scream but no sound came out of his parched mouth. He may have passed the course, but now when it was time to act, it seemed he was headed for failure. He might even have noticed it had the captain, for inexplicable reasons, not asked him to look for hostiles in the opposite direction. So busy was he scanning the horizon that he forgot to check near the ship.

  The sonar operator jumped off his seat, threw the earphones away and called the bridge of INS Doon, a Kashin-class destroyer, with a shaking voice. About ten second later, the klaxons started screaming, beckoning the officers and men to their action stations. Sailors wore life jackets and ran to secure their sections.

  Captain Rajesh Sahgal reached for the Push-to-Talk Motorola and his voice boomed over the ship's intercom, 'Action stations...action stations.'

  'Damn the lousy ASWO (Anti-submarine Warfare Officer),' Sahgal muttered under his breath, 'I am going to give him so many “NEGAT Bravo Zulus” that he will never be able to step on a ship again.'

  The bridge was thick with tension and status reports. The XO glumly reported, 'Torpedo in water, sir. Bearing 077. Estimated time of impact ninety seconds.'

  'Hard at starboard...full speed ahead. Deploy the ANT (Anti-torpedo Net),' Sahgal roared as the engines were switched to maximum power.

  'Engines at full. Turning starboard fifteen. ANT is online,' the bridge crew repeated as every order was deftly executed.

  'All hands, this is the captain speaking. Brace for impact... thirty seconds,' Sahgal ordered over the intercom again.

  There was a flurry of activity at the bridge. 'All decks check-in, sir. They are ready for impact.'

  'Inform the flag,' the captain spoke. Having taken immediate counter-measures to defend his ship, the lead ship had to be warned of the danger to the battle group in case it had not yet picked up the threat.

  Sahgal took out his binoculars and scanned the area as lines with dead weight attached to the hull, especially along the keel and around the rudder and propellers, were lowered from the ship's deck. This was the newly acquired ANT. The net was supposed to trap the torpedo, reduce its speed, and veer it off course.

  He saw two streaks of white foam making their way towards his ship. It was frustrating for the captain of any ship to see impending doom arriving so majestically, yet not be able to do anything about it. The sheer size of the ships made them slow in movement. It was the first law of Newtonian motion. But the massive ship had started turning. Slowly and surely, it was moving away from the torpedoes.

  It was when the sonar operator screamed again, 'Another torpedo in water!'

  Before Sahgal could ask for particulars, he was thrown to the portside plexiglas. The torpedo had sliced right through the net and hit its target. With a deafening bang, INS Doon caught fire, a section of its hull cracked open by the impact of the torpedo. Sea water rushed into the compartments. Some sailors who were not careful were thrown off-board.

  Captain Sahgal knew it was a mortal wound. Still, he contacted the Emergency Response Room (ERR) and asked for a damage report, knowing what he would hear.

  He heard coughing induced by smoke before the Lieutenant handling ERR finally spoke up, 'Decks 4-9 flooded, sir…fires in three sections…ASP is out of action. Engine room is hit. We have lost hull integrity... Sinking is imminent.'

  'Send ERR teams to the affected areas. Secure bulkheads and try keeping her afloat as long as possible,' the captain ordered, his eyes getting moist.

  'Roger,' was what the lieutenant managed to say before the captain cut him off.

  Sahgal looked around his ship. Only a captain knew how one felt for the ship one commanded. It was a feeling that was simultaneously paternal, filial, and romantic. The ship was one's baby, one's paramour, and one's comrade – all rolled into one. The bond was too deep to be broken. No wonder men preferred to go down with their boats.

  He saw boats being launched from INS Dharti and INS Ranthambore for rescue. Only one ship did not send its boats towards Doon. INS Vismaya. Its deck was on fire. From a distance it looked like the entire deck would explode. Wait... wasn't there something kept on the deck? Something that no ship would carry?

  However, the captain had no time to spare for Vismaya. His own ship was in mortal peril. He took the Motorola in his hands, pressed the PTT button and gave the decisive command, 'All hands, this is the captain speaking. Abandon ship. Repeat, abandon ship.'

  The crew of approximately thirty officers and 350 sailors looked longingly at the ship for one last time, and then jumped off their sinking home.

  Life, they knew, would no longer be the same.

  On-board INS Koyna, Arabian Sea

  Local time: 0900 hours
>
  Date: 27 April 2014

  'Captain, we have contact with a Type 09 SSN. Unknown signature...running at half speed...heavily damaged. Should surface soon,' reported Commander Kunal Menon on-board a ship with a second battle group in the Arabian Sea.

  Captain TB Rao merely nodded and turned to the sensors to confirm it himself. The ship gently rocked and stabilized. Belonging to Shivalik class, the indigenously-built Koyna incorporated features to minimize radar cross-section, infrared and acoustic emissions, thereby rendering it almost invisible to conventional sensors. Moreover, the presence of ISD (Integrated Services Digitalization) enhanced its battlefield capability by enabling electronic information from the ship's systems and sensors to be integrated with external sources like UAVs and AWACS. It was a ship that was a lethal, invisible predator.

  And they were out fishing.

  Captain Rao checked the Combat Information System (CIS) that provided him with decision support in selecting the optimum weapons system for the threat detected, and smiled at his number one, 'Just what the command told us to expect.'

  'I do not get it, Captain,' asked a puzzled Menon.

  'Well, we just had a flash, didn't we, number one?' the captain said.

  'Yes, but what is all this about, sir?'

  'Hmm...I guess I can tell you. We have some time to kill before the sub surfaces.'

  'As you know,' he began, 'we were on the trail of Yasser Basheer, the man who ignited the Indo-Pak war. With Agyaat already dealt with, the two governments, thanks to American egging, agreed to a joint operation to flush Yasser Basheer out from his hide-out in NWFP. The raid took place as planned. However, Basheer managed to escape.

  'The cat and mouse game began. ISI traced him near the Pakistan-Iran border. They were about to apprehend Basheer when another development happened. RAW reported that Basheer was going to Iran to meet...he-who-must-not-be-named.'

  'But he was killed! His body was buried at sea! He's no longer a threat!'