by Mainak Dhar
‘If this is your idea of a joke, then you are in deep trouble. We can track your location and we will come and get you.’
I had recovered the radio from one of the fallen Americans and called the last frequency it had been set at, hoping to get in touch with their base camp.
‘Look, you asshole. You have four dead SEALs and one other KIA, who I assume is CIA. I was a passenger on the plane that was hijacked, and my family is one among the remaining hostages. I don’t know who killed your men, but they look like special operatives, not vanilla jihadis. They were tracking your boys, laid an ambush and took them without a single loss to them.’
Uncertain silence followed.
Then, another voice came on the line. More authoritative, more used to command.
‘How are my boys?’
The commanding officer, and a good one at that, if his first concern was the welfare of his team and not who I was.
‘Sorry to report that they are all dead, sir. They were ambushed and stood no chance.’
‘And, who exactly are you?’
I told him who I was, gave him both my military background and NSA Ajay Gopal’s number to verify my claim.
I heard him emit a low whistle when I rattled off Gopal’s number.
‘Give me a minute to check out if you are who you say you are. We have a Predator overhead. While it can’t see through the cover, thermals confirm what you say. Bodies on the ground, but they’re also showing another man with you and a smaller figure, perhaps a kid. If you’re messing around, we will send Hellfires up your ass.’
I couldn’t help but look up. I knew my life hung by a thread. Having just lost their buddies, the Americans would be looking for payback. If they had any doubt about my story, death would come streaking in from the sky.
There would be nothing I could do about it.
I could see Karzai look up anxiously.
I knew he had lost his mother, many friends and family to a Predator strike. His eyes were narrowing. He was someone I trusted, but I also knew the contentious history he had with the Americans. I saw that he was grappling with his emotions, perhaps recalling all he had lost earlier.
I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me, as if snapping out of a trance.
‘Remember what you told me once, Aman? We are more alike than we may believe. We both have ghosts in our past, and I have learned that the best way to cleanse myself of them is to face them.’
He nodded, but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
The radio set crackled to life. The American was back online.
‘What was your call sign when you were on ops?’
So, this guy knew his job. He knew that if he really wanted to check on me, it wasn’t with Gopal or other bureaucrats in Delhi. It would be my brothers back home.
‘Cardinal.’
‘In your first firefight, what did you yell at a jihadi?’
I almost smiled. ‘I told the bastard I loved him, and if my old CO has told you any more embarrassing stories, I assure you half of them are false.’
‘I had to be sure, son. So, here we are in the middle of a real shitstorm. General Robert Sandberg, commanding officer, Bagram. Now, level with me. Who’s with you.’
‘A local and a kid who have been helping me negotiate the terrain.’
I could see Karzai almost let out an audible sigh of relief. He had American blood on his hands. There was no telling how they would react if they found out that the infamous sniper known as Seven Six Two was with me.
Another voice joined the conversation, after a short beep, indicating he had been patched through on a secure line.
‘Major, Ajay Gopal again. Do you know anything about who the attackers were?’
‘I killed a few, sir.’
‘How many? What gear were they packing?’
That was the American – unlike Gopal, the spook and bureaucrat, who was primarily interested in their identities, this man was clearly a soldier. He wanted to know the operational details of who he was up against.
‘Four, sir. All dressed in black, masks on. Carrying light loads. AKMs, grenades and knives, but I think they had the route rigged with mines. I heard one go off. If I look closely, am sure I’ll find more along the way in case the SEAL team bypassed the first mine. What’s more intriguing is how they knew the route the SEALs were taking. On the plane, the hijack leader seemed to know when your boys were taking off from Bagram. How did they know who the Secret Service agents on the flight were? Do you have a leak?’
Sandberg paused for a bit, then spoke, ‘Some of us have been wondering the same. Any IDs on these guys?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Check for tattoos and other marks. I have a hunch these are mercenaries from outside.’
Good idea.
I had my own tattoo on my shoulder, a winged knife with the word ‘Balidaan’ or sacrifice below it – the symbol and motto of the Paras. Many people who served in small, tight units had their own identifiers, which they wore as a badge of pride, of belonging to a special tribe.
I nodded at Karzai and Hanif, and we stripped all four men. Three of them had no marks on them other than scars and healed wounds that came with a violent life. I had more than my share, and my torso was crisscrossed with scars from old bullet wounds, cuts and scrapes. All three of them looked like locals, or perhaps of Middle Eastern descent with their dark skin and beards.
The fourth was more interesting. He was the one who looked Oriental.
On his right shoulder was tattooed what looked like a slightly tilted ‘t’ with a fire-breathing dragon wrapped around it.
Sandberg asked me to describe it. I did so in as much detail as I could, given that there was no way that I could have taken a photograph and transmitted it.
‘It doesn’t ring any bells, but I’ll have the Intel guys have a go at it. I’ve never heard of such a tattoo associated with any known terror group.’
Gopal jumped into the conversation. ‘What now, major? What’s the plan?’
‘They have my family. I’m going after them, sir.’
Sandberg coughed loudly. I could hear him whispering something to someone. For a moment I feared that he’d ask me to stand down and say that the Americans would take care of this. But he surprised me.
‘Check in every hour to let us know what’s going on, major. We don’t know if there is a leak at our end and we can’t send in more boys to get killed. But they don’t know you’re still out there. You have the element of surprise. Just don’t be a hero. Observe, watch and relay the intel. We will have a Predator overhead at all times. If you’re in trouble, call in and we’ll try to help out.’
I grinned. I could see Karzai look at me curiously.
As I hung up, he asked me why I was so happy.
‘Because we’ve just been given the license to go hunting.’
***
We swapped our weapons for the kits the SEALs had. Each of us put on a backpack containing added ammunition and gear, including their binoculars. I also had the radio set on my back.
When it came to what we should wear for the rest of our journey, we had debated whether to wear the SEAL uniforms or the black outfits of their attackers. Ultimately, we had decided to stay in the local attire we had been wearing.
With the rest of the gear we had, we wouldn’t really look like innocuous villagers, but at least our clothes would help us blend in the most, especially in a region that was rife with all kinds of weapons following its war-torn history. There was no telling whom we might bump into – where looking like American soldiers or unknown terrorists might get us into trouble.
This decision proved to be the right one an hour into our journey, when we stopped to drink water. We were on the crest of a small hill. Hanif had wandered off to one side, to check on an injured goat he had found. While he tended to his new-found friend, Karzai and I checked our guns, rehydrated and used the view we commanded from the top of the hill to plan our approach to Korengal
.
‘It’s going to take us at least three more hours of forced marching, Major. You up for it?’
I gave Karzai a dirty look, as the radio set crackled to life.
‘Cardinal, you have company coming towards you. Two clicks to the East.’
‘What sort?’
‘Heavy armour. The drone feed shows at least four Tango Five Fives. Intel says they’re likely Taliban. Afghan Army confirms they aren’t theirs and the Islamic State doesn’t really pack heavy armour in the neighbourhood you’re in.’
The T-55 was an ancient Russian tank, used by many armies over the years, including the Indian Army. It was also now an obsolete piece of junk, likely to be turned into mincemeat if thrown into battle against any modern army. But against two men armed with rifles and a ten-year-old boy with an injured goat for company, even one T-55 was overkill. Four were a nightmare.
We could now hear the rumble of tank engines in the distance.
Both Karzai and I got our binoculars out and we saw the tanks broadly at the same time. They were heading straight for us in a roughly straight line and would be upon us in minutes. We were surrounded by flat land around us for at least a kilometer apart from a tiny hill we were on, and there was no running away, unless we abandoned all our gear and hoped that pretending to be villagers would make the Taliban ignore us.
‘A good time to call your friend piloting the Predator, major.’
Karzai called Hanif over and we were lying flat on our stomachs among the sparse grass and scattered rocks.
‘Maybe they’ll pass us? You and Hanif get to the other side of the hill now.’
He protested but I insisted. ‘I’m not trying to be a hero. If things get really messed up, are you going to call in the drone strike? What do I tell the Americans then – that my friendly Afghan villager suddenly learned how to speak in fluent English?’
He nodded and crawled to the far side of the hill with Hanif while I kept my eyes peeled on the tanks.
As they turned in front of the hill, I prayed they would just go on their way, but they stopped right in front of us. Of all the places they could have found, the bloody Talibs had chosen our hill to take a break!
Twelve bearded, turbaned men got out of the tanks and sat down at the foot of the hill, speaking loudly. They were either poorly trained or too complacent in their tanks that they didn’t even set up any perimeter or scan the neighbouring area.
We were just fifty feet or so above them. It would have taken just one alert sentry no more than a few minutes to find us.
I turned, motioning for Hanif and Karzai to come forward. Two of the Taliban were now directly below us, with the tank engines turned off. We could hear them talk as some of the others got out some food to eat, sitting in a circle in front of the tanks.
The two men below us were doing what soldiers have done since time immemorial.
Bitch about their officers.
Karzai was whispering a rough translation to me, as the men talked.
‘Ghulam said that the Daesh bastards were regrouping after all the fighting with us and the pounding they got from the Americans. Now these new thugs show up. He had said that fresh fighters, hard men, were coming in from Iraq and Syria, perhaps thousands of them. You’ve heard those rumours, haven’t you? But why did they hijack this bloody plane? How does that fit into their plans?’
‘Ghulam knows nothing beyond licking the Emir’s backside. I hear rumours that these newcomers, who hijacked the airliner, have nothing to do with Daesh. I have no idea about Daesh getting new fighters, but the village does seem to have new fighters, and hard men at that. What I heard from my cousin, who occasionally smuggles stuff to Daesh, is that these aren’t their men.’
‘Who then?’
‘How the hell should I know? All I know is that the Emir wants us to clear them out. If they get an upper hand, no chance of the villages there growing poppy again.’
‘That’s like our Emir. All he wants is to get the business and keep the villagers in control. The Americans stopped caring long ago, so they won’t go after the Daesh. You know how bad business has been for the big shots with cultivation down. These guys, Daesh or not, have no armour. A few men with rifles is what I heard. Sitting on that old American base. We’ll slice through them like a knife through butter.’
As the men went to join their mates, we crawled to the far side of the hill, where we wouldn’t be seen by them.
‘Aman, what the hell is going on? You’ve been here for some time.’
Karzai looked up briefly, as if wondering how to explain the mess that this part of the world was.
‘The Taliban ruled with an iron fist, but they had a keen eye for business, their so-called Islamic principles aside, they actively got the villagers to grow opium, which they sold to drug smugglers. Daesh came in, after taking a beating in Iraq and Syria, to set up their new Caliphate here. Bastards all of them, but they tried to stop opium cultivation, saying it was anti-Islam. The American bombed both of them, while they fought it out. This region has now become a stronghold for Daesh. And don’t forget, the Pakistanis aren’t that far away. Some of their brass has had their fingers in their drug trade, like our old friend Karimi. They help balance things out from time to time – create trouble so that the Afghan government is destabilised, yet ensure the Talibs stay active so that the drug trade goes.’
My head was spinning. Basically, everyone was fighting everyone, and almost everyone had a vested interest in keeping the war going on because they were profiting from it.
‘What do the Americans want?’
Karzai rolled his eyes. ‘Damned if I know. They made a big show of bombing Daesh in Tora Bora after their new President was elected, dropping their so-called Mother of All Bombs, but then they’re busy with Syria and Iran. This is a war they’d rather forget.’
We heard the tank engines start and waited for a few minutes as they left.
I called Sandberg. He said the Predator shouldn’t take out the tanks. At any rate, the drone carried only two Hellfire missiles and wouldn’t be able to destroy all the tanks. Besides, if the tanks helped destroy some of the hijackers, then it only helped their cause. Enemy of my enemy and all that. It’s amazing how many politicians and senior brass believe such fancy plans are clever. Or, perhaps, they have the luxury of believing that because they don’t get shot at or blown up when those plans go belly up.
We followed in the tanks’ wake, hoping that they’d do the hard work of softening the defences or perhaps even scattering the hijackers. We had no idea how many men were there. I was worried about Zoya and Aman getting caught in the crossfire, so I wanted to make as good a time as I could. There was no hope of keeping pace with the tanks but they were noisy enough and raised enough of a cloud of dust for us to know exactly where they were headed. Idiots. If we knew where they were from miles away, the enemy they were on their way to supposedly scatter would know as well.
Two hours of hard marching later, we stopped again. We could make out the Korengal base through our binoculars. It was on the side of a hill, but seemed to have a few access paths and didn’t seem to have more than rudimentary walls. If more solid walls had existed, they had been destroyed, dismantled, or simply stolen by nearby villagers. That was a relief. I had been worried about trudging up a hill against a heavily fortified base.
Then I began to wonder if the hijackers had kept the hostages there or somewhere else.
In capturing a former US President’s daughter, they had scored a public relations coup, and everything I had seen of Khalid indicated that he was under orders to make as big a spectacle of everything he did. Keeping them in a base that could be assaulted with relative ease by US Special Forces made little sense, especially when the hijackers had already indicated that they had a lot of extra help, and were invariably one step ahead of those pursuing them.
We hiked up a small hill, to be able to see what the tanks were up to, and I picked them up in the distance, rolling down a nar
row track in a single file.
Idiots. Bloody idiots.
I was not a tanker, but had spent enough time on the block to know bad military tactics when I saw them. Those Talibs were lucky that they were not going after an enemy that had the firepower to take out the tanks.
***
A second later, I recoiled as the last tank exploded in a fireball. The other tanks took a second or more to realise what had happened and began to swerve left and right, trying to get out of the unexpected ambush. A smoke trail appeared from a distant hill and the first tank exploded, its turret flying off and landing several feet away. The two other tanks stopped and the Taliban got out, running toward us, many of them without any weapons, having abandoned them in their panic. One more tank was destroyed, two of the running men flung aside by the explosion. The remaining six were still running towards us and I began to grab my rifle, but Karzai stayed my hand.
‘Nobody knows we’re here. They won’t even notice us, they’re so scared.’
As the men scattered around us, I called Sandberg. ‘You saw what happened?’
‘No shit!’
Involuntarily, I looked up. It hadn’t crossed my mind that the Americans were tracking my every move with their drone and the moment Karzai used his sniper rifle, they’d know he wasn’t just another Afghan villager with a rifle.
‘General, who are these guys? Those were not RPGs. They took out the tanks with one shot. Those were anti-tank missiles. Could ISIS have that kind of firepower?’
‘Unfortunately, major, they could. They captured a lot of our weapons we’d given to the Iraqi government, including TOW missiles, and this looked like either someone used TOWs or similar high-end Russian missiles.’
Great, bloody great.
Now we were up against an enemy with some serious firepower. I wondered just how foolish our plan of rushing in to rescue Zoya and Aman was, and how doomed we were to failure. Not that I had any option but to try.
A few minutes later, it was Aman’s sat phone ringing. The call was from an unknown number.
It was for me. Ajay Gopal.
‘Major, I’m patched into all your calls with Sandberg. The Americans are convinced this is ISIS. They’re calling in the cavalry. Two carrier groups to lend air support and ground troops are being mobilised to come into Afghanistan in force. The media lady was not just a former President’s daughter but someone very popular with the US public and media. The current administration cannot look like its ignoring her or going soft on terror.’