Khuzdar (Baluchistan) 9th October
Brigadier Qadir stared down at the containers. The thick gray steel of each enclosed three shells that together weighed over 120 kilos—difficult for even two men to carry safely. Qadir looked at the two men standing beside him. “Open this one.”
“Yes sir,” Asfandyar Khan of the PAEC kneeled down. The light within the mineshaft was weak and his colleague, Abdullah Beg, held a powerful torch over the pressurized container as it was opened.
“Subhanallah!” whispered the Brigadier as all three men stared at the weapons of mass destruction. The lights within the mine came from hastily laid out wires and bulbs and could only give minimal visibility—they did no justice to the dark and beautiful shells now glittering under the torches shone in by the three men.
Nothing further was said until Qadir gently put the lid down and Asfandyar, with equal ceremony, carefully locked the container. This was the first time that Qadir had actually seen the shells—all this while he had been too busy in shifting the 41 Division Headquarters to Khuzdar and in arranging the security at these mines.
“Sir when will we hit back at the enemy?” Abdullah Beg asked him as they stepped out of the mineshaft and into the main entrance. Abdullah’s downcast looks were clearly visible under the more profuse lighting.
“How many of our people will have to die?” demanded Asfandyar. “Our colleagues…the great scientists of this nation have been killed! The people demand action!”
In the aircraft shot down over the Sulaiman Range had been several scientists of the PAEC and of other institutions that dealt with Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal. Their deaths caused more heartburn to these two than the attacks on their country.
“Soon,” Qadir reassured them. “The enemy’s daring has crossed all bounds…they have taken the war into the Northern Areas and now into Baluchistan! But rest assured we will teach them a lesson. You must keep your composure until then…for the sake of our nation, for Islam.”
“Al-ham-dul-allah sir!” they replied in unison.
As they stepped out the lights were turned off. No one could tell from a distance if this mine was being used. The scientists lived in the wooden rest house while the army unit guarding the site had their camouflage tents and bunkers. No more words were exchanged as Brigadier Qadir drove off—his convoy throwing up clouds of dust on that dirt track.
Five kilometers to the southwest the night’s activities had been observed by watchful eyes—just as they had been all those previous nights and days. And just as the Pakistani army had its tents and bunkers in place to protect the mines, the Baluchistan National Army had its deep bunkers and hideouts among the cluster of hills.
From his position on top of the cliff, Naurang Marri had a bird’s eye-view of the goings on in the valley leading up to the mine. He had a closer vantage point for observing the road leading down from Khuzdar to Bela, which bypassed both the mine and his bunker. Naurang would be replaced by a comrade at dawn—in all these days the BLA had formed a very good idea of the concentration of military forces at Khuzdar and of their movements to and from these mines.
On the road back to Khuzdar there were three FC check posts—at each place Brigadier Qadir’s convoy was stopped and searched. No chances could be taken at such a time. The 41 Division Headquarters had been shifted from Quetta to Khuzdar along with the movement of the special cargo. They had occupied the headquarters of the 70 Infantry Brigade, which in turn had been moved south to Bela, to be within easy reach of Karachi. The Brigadier reached his office at 2 a.m. and was immediately on the phone to his superior.
“Qadir, the Indians have deceived us and the world,” Lt. General Khattak brushed aside formalities. “They are not confining their attacks to the disputed region of Kashmir, but they have occupied parts of Pakistan, and now they have exceeded all bounds by daring to approach our Baluchistan!”
“Sir.”
“The people are angry and restless…the jehadis are recruiting members and giving them weapons…cries of nara-e-takbeer are echoing in the streets!” continued the General. “It was because of the Indian aggression that the jehadis acquired those weapons. We warned the world but no one could restrain the enemy…but now they have bitten off more than they can chew. Our forces must drive out the enemy by any means or the jehadis will accuse us of cowardice!”
“Sir you give the orders and we will throw them out!” Brigadier Qadir was the General’s equal in rhetoric. “Our morale is high and Allah is with us!”
The opening exchanges of the conversation between these two senior officers was part of a rehearsed script. They had always known that all communications were being intercepted and recorded by the Americans and it was for their benefit that the references to jehadis, the Kashmir dispute, and those weapons, had been made. Even earlier during the Kargil conflict of 1999, the enemy armed groups intruding into India, even when manned by regular army personnel and led by army officers, had been collectively referred to as mujahideen. And likewise most of the Taliban mujahideen in Afghanistan had always been regular Pakistan Army personnel. The implication then, as now, had been to treat these armed groups as independent entities and ensure that the rest of the world did the same.
After the intentional rhetoric had been spent the two men got to grips with the situation.
“They only have a toehold on the coast yet…the approach is from the coastal highway,” General Khattak sounded much calmer now. “16 Div is on its way to crush the enemy…leave it for them. If they ask for assistance then send your units.”
“Sir if the Indians have Ormara airport they can fly in many more troops and equipment,” argued Qadir. “We must hit them before they can increase that toehold to a foothold!”
“Instruct the Turbat Brigade to collect the FC units from Pasni and move in from the other side. You will need to hit the local traitors before they establish contact with the enemy,” Khattak was now referring to the Baloch resistance. “The jehadis will also try to strike the enemy…you must stop all such movement and direct them first against the traitors and uproot them from their strongholds.”
“We have to organize them,” Qadir smiled to himself. “Otherwise they will riot on the streets and randomly hit ordinary people. Their fury must be channeled at the enemy.”
All of this was code for the movement of the irregular army units against the indigenous Baloch fighters and their political leaders—a process that had already begun in Quetta when the Indians were nowhere in Baluchistan.
“The Indians know that the structure of our NCA is undamaged,” Khattak chose his words carefully. “If they move any further into our country…if they kill any more of our troops…we will hurl our missiles and aircraft at their cities. Despite their treacherous attack it will not take us long to deliver the desired response.”
“Allah-u-Akbar!”
Despite his instinctive response, Brigadier Qadir was nervous and apprehensive. To him it seemed that the response should have been made when the first Indian fighters were violating Pakistani airspace. Now they were in the Northern Areas and so close here in Baluchistan—what are we waiting for? It appeared that the Indians were doing to Pakistan what had been done to them in the name of jehad all these years. Starting with random attacks and killings in Punjab, J&K, and the North-East, the Pakistani establishment had gradually increased the level of jehad over the years.
The Indians, after each such attack, made threats of a fitting response or hot pursuit but it all ended in talk. The rhetoric was increased by the paper tigers of the BJP, but apart from the nine-month mobilization and more threats of hot pursuit and cold start, it all died down. The Pakistani establishment had thus calculated that terrorist strikes could be increased in intensity at will, and this was the logic behind the acquisition of the nuclear artillery shells, recalled Brigadier Qadir.
In August 2004 he had been a staff officer at GHQ and was an eyewitness at the meetings with the Chinese that culminated in the underhanded nuclear deal. The latter never suspected the intentions of their allies, having put their faith in the modern and progressive Chief. Qadir wondered what the Chinese attitude would be, now that the Pakistani treachery had been publicly revealed? At least they still didn’t know what had happened to the last consignment of shells, he consoled himself.
“Sir we cannot wait for them to keep increasing the stakes bit by bit,” he said now. “They are obviously taking revenge for what the Kashmiri mujahideen have been doing to them. But unlike them we cannot keep waiting while the conflict level is increased by slow degrees? They have the ability to modulate our response…this is unacceptable!”
The Indians had pre-empted the covert use of the nuclear shells on their strategic assets, Qadir almost added. And now all the initiative lay in their hands.
“We will not wait forever Qadir!” Khattak’s response was sharp. “They have committed a great blunder in placing their formations in our midst, both at Skardu and at Ormara. They are trapped!”
“But if they attempt to press forward…”
“I do not believe that the enemy can afford to move out of occupied Ormara,” concluded the General. “You must crush the local traitors before they can join hands with the enemy!”
“Yes sir!”
Ormara (Baluchistan) 10th October
A division is the highest military formation, which comprises sub-formations and units that move and operate as one. The corps, and above them the commands, that supervise such operations and movements are more administrative headquarters. The 114 Expeditionary Brigade at Ormara had been joined by fresh infantry battalions, artillery regiments, and more of the lethal BMPs, to eventually grow into a division-sized force of 15,770 personnel. In normal circumstances the sub-formations of a division are spread out over a large area—different brigades in separate towns and localities—but here the entire division was concentrated in and around Ormara.
Other changes had taken place on the ground. Brigadier Puri had handed over command of the ground troops to Major-General Rehman Fazli, who had flown in along with the first batch of troops and equipment. Among the first tasks for the divisional commander was to distribute the forces under him in a defensive formation to fight the Pakistanis, who were expected to converge on Ormara from all sides. The orders were issued, ammunition and supplies were distributed, and makeshift bunkers were dug, all within seven or eight hours. But apart from outstanding military capacity, there was a distinct political overtone to the appointment of Rehman Fazli to the command of this important division—the Major-General was an ethnic Kashmiri Muslim.
The 180 men of 10 Para, with their BMP vehicles, had been designated as a mechanized infantry unit along with the 800 men of the 7th Mechanized Infantry Battalion. Apart from the five casualties, five other para-commandos had embarked on a mission more in tune with their traditional role as Special Forces.
“We should’ve been airborne last night!” Abdul Mirwani shouted into the ear of Colonel Chitnis.
“If the route that you plotted is free of enemy forces we shall have a safe journey,” Prahlad shouted back over the noise. He pointed at the man sitting across them, “Even otherwise they have enough equipment to detect and repel enemy fire!”
The Naval Flight Engineer responded with a thumb up. Sitting beside him was Havildar Shankar, gripping his MP5 and taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. Taking the Sea King helicopter through the rocky valleys and over the empty scrubland of Baluchistan were the pilot and navigator sitting in front.
“Calm down,” Captain Usman patted the knee of the man sitting across him in the second Sea King.
Naik Sujan Singh nodded and looked out at the landscape, marking the shape of the hills and noting the clumps of bushes as they whizzed past in the broad daylight. Even though they had been flying for an hour without incident, Sujan was nervous. This, after all, was their first covert operation deep inside enemy territory.
The two helicopters maintained an even distance of fifty feet as they followed the route marked by the Baloch who had been employed in the electricity department at Ormara—Abdul was also a political member of the Baluchistan National Army. His meeting with the man from R-A-W and “Sikander” the army man had lasted three hours. Subsequently he was left alone, but under guard, for two more hours before someone thought of providing the starving man with some tea and biscuits. Night had fallen by the time he was hustled into a jeep and taken to the port where he boarded a ship and again met the two men.
Abdul also met the Sea King pilots and navigators, and their superiors of the navy, who sat down with him and marked out the route on their maps. After some more questioning he was allowed to sleep in a bunker on the ship. In the morning, after witnessing a large military aircraft landing at the Ormara airport, Abdul met the four other army men. After eating a light breakfast they had taken off from the ship…and here they were.
“Let us down here!” he reached forward and tapped the Sea King pilot on the shoulder.
“No! It’s too rocky,” the Lt. Commander pointed across at a stretch of level ground. “We’ll land there.”
“No!” Abdul nearly yanked off the pilot’s shoulder. “Landmines!”
The Sea Kings hovered several feet over the rocks while the commandos and Abdul rappelled down the ropes. As the helicopters roared up and away Colonel Prahlad ran up a low hillock and took a bird’s eye-view of the surroundings. The fading drone of the helicopters was pierced by a sharp whistle—Abdul Mirwani stood next to Chitnis and waved his hands. From the dark shadows of a rocky valley emerged a string of four camels. Abdul ran down to greet the two men leading them—they handed him a large bundle.
“Camels?” Prahlad laughed as the Baloch men faced the commandos.
“Camels…” nodded Abdul as he threw the bundle at Captain Usman. “…and clothing.”
Direct south of this group of adventurers, and along the coastal highway, marched the Pakistan Army’s 16 Infantry Division, in their determined objective of ejecting the Indians from Ormara. The divisional commander had flown to Bela from his headquarters in Panno Aqil, northern Sindh. The 61 Infantry Brigade at Bela, joined by the 70 Infantry Brigade that had relocated from Khuzdar, formed the bulk of 16 Division that had moved south to the coastal highway and was now driving east to Ormara.
Two battalions of the 34 Infantry Brigade in Sui, eastern Baluchistan, joined by a Frontier Corps battalion were moving south along the Lahore-Karachi highway and would serve as reserves for the two brigades of 16 Div. The fourth infantry brigade of 16 Div, the 48th, remained untouched at Panno Aqil and faced the Indians across the border in Rajasthan.
“They are moving all military, paramilitary, and police units to secure the highway,” explained Major-General Rehman Fazli. “Our estimate is that these will operate under the orders of the battalion commander at the Ansari Camp, which is at the base of the hills. The battalion is part of the 61 Infantry Brigade at Bela.”
“So they secure the highway until the parent formation arrives,” Major Negi peered down at the map.
“Yes but the other brigades of the 16 Div will not be far behind,” cautioned Brigadier Nautiyal, deputy GOC of the Ormara Division. “The crucial area is this mass of hills…the highest point is 1500 feet…where the coastal highway pierces across the Buzi Pass. Their armor and towed artillery will take hours to snake around the mountain road. That is the place to hit them.”
“Our commando base will be on the Maneji plain,” Negi circled a point on the map. “Even if our squads scale the hills by nightfall, and some of the enemy forces get through, we shall give them a hot reception from our base.”
“We have been assured of air support,” remarked Fazli. “So if you are able to create a major bottleneck in the mountain road, the enemy convoys will be exposed like a row of sitting ducks for our pilots!”
“Yes sir!” Negi smiled along with his superiors.
“Good luck Major Negi!” Fazli and Nautiyal returned the Major’s salute.
The Ormara Division had its headquarters in the Jinnah Naval Base. All the Pakistani prisoners in the base had been shipped to India—to be debriefed and held in custody till the duration of the war. The Naval Task Group under Rear Admiral Isaacs had appropriated all the enemy naval assets and was employing them in the multiple tasks of patrolling the enemy coast, interdicting military and commercial shipping, and escorting the supplies being shipped to Ormara almost every day.
“Good morning sir,” Brigadier Aditya Puri stepped into the office.
“Morning Puri. How is the situation in the town?”
The 114 Expeditionary Brigade had been headquartered at the Ormara airport. They were entrusted with the task of air defense while also watching the road going towards Pasni. The task of administering the town was also theirs—the telephone exchange, the power station and the water supply system were all under their control.
“The town is calm and the local officials are cooperating,” Puri sat down. “We are eagerly awaiting the arrival of the CRPF battalion. It will free up the Sikhs and Garhwalis. We can then place them in defensive positions to face the enemy, should he attempt to approach from Pasni.”
“Oh attempt he surely will!” Brigadier Nautiyal had a grim smile on his face.
“We are expecting the CRPF boys to be shipped by this evening,” Rehman Fazli looked out of the window at the imposing cliffs of the Ormara headland. “On your way did you check in with Mr. Upadhyay?”
“Yes sir,” Puri smiled. “Still insists on staying put at the rest house without security! He’s asked for some more telephone lines for his men…seems like they are making headway with their local agents and contacts.”
The Joint Secretary had been joined by three more personnel and fresh equipment to operate his office. They had found that the easiest means of communications were the local telephone lines, which had not yet been cut by the enemy.
“The cell phone network is disabled?” Nautiyal looked at his colleague.
“Yes, since yesterday afternoon. But the landlines are working fine.”
“Good for the R-A-W!” laughed the major general. “We’ll meet up with Mr. Upadhyay for lunch. I intend to stay in the Maneji Brigade Headquarters for the duration of the night…until we hear from the commandos.”
Thirty-five men from the A Team of 10 Para, under the 2IC Major Negi, rolled across the Maneji Plain through the dirt track north of the coastal highway. They passed two villages along the way and captured fifteen poorly-armed personnel of the Baluchistan Levies. These policemen had their hands bound and were marched back on foot across the dusty twelve kilometers to Ormara by five of the commandos. The rest of the force, mounted on five jeeps, faced no resistance as they reached the base of the hills.
“We’ve made good time but the highway is still seven or eight kilometers due south,” Major Negi addressed his men under the afternoon sun. “We have trained in similar terrain as this. Find the tracks used by local shepherds and farmers and maintain an even distance between our squads. Ahmed will command the base until we return.”
“Yes sir,” Captain Sharma, code name Ahmed, would have fifteen men under his command, all manning the Insas light machine guns and the mortars. The rest of the team had formed into three squads, each comprising five men, and carrying even more lethal firepower.
“Keep communications with the squads and the brigade headquarters,” Negi instructed the captain while checking his equipment. “These hills are bare and rocky while the incline isn’t steep. We shouldn’t take too long to…”
“SIR!”
Negi and Sharma looked up at the three commandos returning from recce—they were bringing in more prisoners. Civilians this time; one man and two boys. Trailing behind them were two mules loaded with firewood.
“We caught them coming down a track along a dry nullah!” Havaldar Shambhunath pushed the old man forward.
“Easy Suleiman!” Sharma caught the old man. “Have no fear; we are your friends.”
Negi pulled out two high-energy sweets from his pocket and knelt down to face the scared young boys. “Here these are for you.”
“Sultan these mules will be useful for us,” Lieutenant Tiwari spoke to Negi in Hindi.
“What’s your name?” Negi smiled at the old Baloch.
“Kaderdad…Kaderdad Ghichki,” the man replied as he looked around at the armed men who all had Muslim names.
“Kaderdad how far in these mountains do you go?” Negi was now on his feet.
“Quite far,” Kaderdad frowned. “We have been here since the morning. Our village is close by but we don’t have good firewood so we have to come here. There is also some good grazing on the mountain slopes.”
“Really? Any shikar?”
From his study on the Baluchistan province, Negi knew that the southern hills had plenty of gazelles, mountain goats, leopards, and hyenas. Apart from foreign dignitaries that received hunting permits from the alien rulers in Islamabad, the locals had been hunting game in and around these hills for centuries.
“You are here for shikar?”
“Shikar it certainly is but not of animals!” remarked Negi as the other commandos laughed. “Can you help us find the way? We are your friends…the friends of your people. We’ll make sure the boys get back to the village with the firewood. Guide us through the hills and give those mules to us.”
The old man looked uncertain so Negi pulled out a bundle of Pakistani Rupees from his pocket. “Na janaab! This has no value for us,” Kaderdad brushed away the notes. “Do you have dollars?”
Sharma laughed the loudest as Negi gaped at the Baloch. “No I don’t have dollars,” Negi reached for Sharma’s arm and exposed the Rolex diving watch. “But once we get back safely I’ll give you Ahmed’s special watch, which works even under water!”
Mounting their heavy equipment and ammunition on the mules the commando squads raced up the mountain tracks. Since there were only two mules, Major Negi’s squad carried its own equipment and by evening was within eyesight of the coastal highway. Still a couple of kilometers away though while the other squads had positioned themselves directly above the road. Lower rocky peaks sloped down in front of Negi—if they tried to get closer for the attack they would have no chance of escaping the Pakistani response.
“Ahmed to Sultan! Come in Sultan!” Sharma’s voice crackled on the radio.
“Sultan here!”
“Enemy forces reported ten kilometers north of the village! Over,” Sharma reported. He was referring to the squad that had taken the boys back to their village and had observed heavy movement along the dusty track coming down from the north.
“What is their strength? Over.”
“One battalion…over,” responded Sharma. This probably meant that heavier forces would be coming in the tail and the road back to Ormara would be blocked for the commandos.
“Ahmed come to Sultan…over.”
“Roger…Ahmed out.”
“All squads deliver sweets and come to Sultan. Sultan out.”
The relentless whine of the vehicles crawling up the incline was now overpowered by a deep rumble that echoed around the barren hills. The first vehicle had been hit by an anti-tank Nag missile. With his binoculars Negi saw the other vehicles grind to a halt—the Pakistani soldiers ran out and dove for cover. Another explosion boomed on the road ahead, this time louder. The vehicle’s fuel tank would have taken a direct hit, thought Negi as his men fingered their weapons and looked on. Several explosions followed now punctuated by bursts of LMG fire and the desperate shouts from the Pakistanis on the road.
One hundred and fifty kilometers to their north Naurang Marri gave up his position on the cliff south of the mine to the light-eyed stranger called Sikander. With the night vision telescopic sight of his Insas rifle, Sikander watched the site carefully for some time. After noting down coordinates he handed the rifle to his friend Usman and disappeared.
Two hours later a flurry of activity broke out among the strangers. Usman pulled Naurang down alongside him and put his head down to the rocky floor. An intense whine pierced their ears and a rush of warm air pressed down from the night sky on Naurang Marri. As the Brahmos missile struck the target Usman and Naurang jumped up to see the horizon light up briefly. The sound of the explosion, which followed later, was drowned out by the wild cheering of their comrades below the hill.
New Delhi 11th October
“It is the fighting spirit of our soldiers and the bravery of the Pakistani quam that is holding the enemy back,” the lady addressed her expatriate brethren in the Bradford locality of London. “The generals who rule our country, who had begged America and China for the latest missiles, planes, and tanks, have failed to protect the nation! I want to ask them, what happened to all these weapons? Why have they failed to deter the enemy aggression?”
The crowd murmured its disapproval. Some fidgeted at the criticism of the army leadership at this crucial time but the lady politician continued with her determined assault.
“We had great scientists and researchers in our country but they were humiliated and sidelined by the generals who were keen to save their own skins! It is again this selfishness that has brought our nation to this calamity…the generals colluded with foreign powers to acquire weapons that could have been built by our own scientists. And now those same weapons have failed to protect us!”
The rumblings of the crowd grew louder as they were reminded of the public humiliation of their nation’s greatest scientist, AQ Khan. The generals had made him a convenient scapegoat for their collective sins. It seemed that the Indian allegation of the nuclear shipment from China was going to be again blamed on some rogue scientists—perhaps the ones who had perished in the crash of the KLM Boeing.
“Now it is reported that the enemy is in Baluchistan…that they have entered Sindh! The generals had every reason to save their illegally acquired properties in Punjab but they have failed even in that task! The Indians are moving in and out of Punjab with impunity! I do not know what to believe…but I know this…the brave people of Sindh are loyal to the cause of Pakistan. But they ARE NOT slaves to the failed generals!”
The crowd cheered and clapped. Most were Punjabis, but when the hated Indians were walking in and out of their home province, in full view of the international media, someone had to be held responsible.
“I want to say to these generals; run away and hide with your friends in other countries, just as your families already do! The Indians know that they cannot conquer Pakistan…it is due to the failure of the generals that they have dared to go this far. We will go back to our country and face the enemy. Long live Sindh! Long live Pakistan!”
The last two slogans had been delivered in English. The live telecast was being viewed all across the world and people watching in Pakistan would have been troubled by the special mention of Sindh. In the office of India’s National Security Advisor the mood was of quiet celebration.
“What time is the press conference at the Home Ministry?” Ramesh Pathak spoke to his secretary over the intercom.
“6 pm sir.”
“And when is the American NSA arriving?”
“At 7 pm sir.”
“Good,” Pathak looked at his watch. It was already 5:30 and the American NSA would have heard the public speech of the Pakistani opposition leader during her flight. But she would miss the Home Ministry statement and press conference—the embassy officials would not be able to prepare her sufficiently for the meeting with Pathak. The Indian NSA leaned back in his chair and switched channels.
Two hours later Pathak was seated next to the Prime Minister on a sofa. Opposite them sat the American NSA and the young American Ambassador to India.
“Mr. Prime Minister on the way here the Ambassador briefed me on the new search-and-seizure policy on commercial shipping announced this evening by the Home Minister. We understand and appreciate the fact that these steps have been taken to ensure India’s security,” the lady crossed her legs and leaned forward. “However we are not clear if this is to be done in tandem with India’s participation in the Proliferation Security Initiative?”
“No madam,” Pathak smiled at her. “This is an initiative of the Home Ministry. We will detain crews and passengers, interrogate them, inspect their vessels, and check all their containers, all at our own ports. Unlike the PSI this will not be done on the high seas.”
“But search-and-seizure measures as extensive and thorough as these would delay the movement of merchant vessels for days or weeks!” exclaimed the US Ambassador. “And, I’d like to point out, this would only harm India’s economic interests.”
“Security interests take precedence over economic interests,” the Indian Prime Minister responded in a firm tone. “This was the reason we established a presence along the Baluchistan coast, as I have made clear in my address to the nation on Monday. The prospect of WMDs being delivered in these ships and then being exploded in urban centers is surely of more concern than delayed shipments of oil or steel.”
The PM had chosen his words with great deliberation—oil and steel were the principal imports of China. With India’s long coastline and many ports of call, the search-and-seizure policy could seriously hamper the economic growth of China.
“We do understand and appreciate your security concerns,” the lady smiled for the first time. “We hope that our two countries will share any intelligence that is derived when these measures are implemented?”
“Of course madam!” her counterpart smiled.
“On the question of the WMDs, the missile strike by your ships in Baluchistan is reported to have destroyed the mine where the weapons were stored,” she continued without a pause.
“We have acknowledged the missile strike and the Prime Minister will speak to the nation about that tonight. However when we spoke this afternoon I had pointed out that some of the WMDs have been delivered by the Pakistani officer commanding the site, Brigadier Qadir, to the jehadis.”
“Yes we have notified our personnel in Pasni about this matter,” the lady clenched her teeth. “We are dispatching additional forces to the region to support the Pakistani officers who have offered to help us in recovering the WMDs. However we request that this activity be kept under wraps. Additionally we cannot at this time acknowledge the legitimacy of the forces engaged against the Pakistan Army in that region.”
“We understand your compulsions,” the PM responded. “However our forces will continue to support and assist the indigenous resistance against those who have occupied their land for the past fifty-seven years. And it is these resistance forces, which have helped us in detecting and destroying the WMDs.”
“Mr. Prime Minister we have in the past discussed this issue closely with the previous government. We do not believe that any other institution or any armed group can keep order in the entire territory of Pakistan, save the Pakistan Army. This is why we have always endeavored to keep up relations with the leaders of that army. It is a reality, but you understand, not of our creation.”
“We share that assessment but with some qualifications,” Ramesh Pathak intervened. “We believe that the country of Pakistan is held together by the Pakistan Army and this feat cannot be matched by any other group in the regions comprising Pakistan. However should any of these regions develop a capacity to govern itself, it is to everyone’s advantage that such a development is encouraged and supported.”
“This is another reason for our presence in Baluchistan,” the Prime Minister remarked. “We believe that the resistance forces in that country are now ready to achieve independence. Like you, we also have contacts within the military of Pakistan…”
He paused to let that sink in. Pathak enjoyed the bemused expression on the lady’s face.
“The information on the nuclear artillery shells…from the day that they were transferred from China…to the transfer of one container now towards Pasni…all this has come from our sources within the military.”
“And the reliability of all this information in turn indicates the reliability of our sources,” remarked Pathak. “It proves their high position in the military.”
“Do your sources give you information on the situation in other parts of Pakistan?” asked the young Ambassador. “Are there any indigenous movements in Sindh, the frontier, Kashmir? Do you have any support for state formation in those regions?”
“What you call Kashmir is really the Gilgit-Baltistan region of the J&K state,” the Prime Minister gently rebuked the Ambassador. “The other areas under Pakistani occupation are either part of Jammu province or Kashmir province. In all three areas our aim is to first attain complete control. After that what we do for the local people is entirely our concern.”
“I must again come back to this point,” the American NSA shook her head. “Can you replace the Pakistan Army with any other force in Sindh or Punjab? And even if that arises by some miracle can that force, or those forces, be sustained by you alone? The fact is that we will have to negotiate with the Pakistani generals at some point.”
“And I may add, the Chinese hold the same view,” the Ambassador intervened. “Even though your armed forces have maneuvered the PLA into a defensive posture, should Pakistan begin to break apart, the Chinese will surely send their Airborne Corps to the aid of their allies. Therefore negotiations should at least be pursued until the military situation has unfolded even more in your favor.”
“Mr. Ambassador we do not share this view of the Chinese leadership,” Pathak smiled. “We know, and we trust you also know, that they are very pragmatic in their foreign policy. In fact we believe that there is a split within the Politburo over the continued support to Pakistan…this split came to the fore after the decision to arm the PA with nuclear artillery backfired. Instead of using these weapons as deterrents the Pakistanis resorted to terrorism, and when things went against them, tried to drag China into the conflict.”
“You believe that the Chinese may only be making a show of support to Pakistan?” asked the American NSA.
“Yes,” the Prime Minister nodded. “When the implications of our search-and-seizure policy are analyzed around the world the Chinese will have a reason to withdraw in their national interests. Additionally we are in the process of making some strategic moves that will certainly give our neighbor justifiable cause to disengage from the conflict.”
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January 5, 2007 at 7:48 pm |
Great story!