Defense Minister Kuldip Sundai was a small, mustached man with rimless glasses that caught the fluorescent light from overhead and flashed it back at the generals and admirals sitting at the table. Rear Admiral Ramesh watched as he took a sip of water, then smiled at the assembly of high-ranking military officers arrayed about the conference room table.
“Gentlemen,” he said without other preamble. “I thank you for your invitation to meet with you today. I bring the compliments of the Prime Minister, who is proud and pleased with your prosecution of the war thus far. The Political Affairs Committee has asked me to express their complete confidence in you and your good efforts.”
Ramesh stifled a twinge of impatience. He didn’t like Sundarji, though he understood the man’s obsequious manner and politician’s smile.
The political situation within the Indian Federation was, as always, an extremely delicate one, as was the balance between the civilian government and the military. The Indian Constitution vested command of the armed forces with the President, but defacto control lay with the Prime Minister and his cabinet. The cabinet’s Political Affairs Committee, chaired by the Prime Minister, was responsible for all high-level decisions on defense matters. The Minister of Defense was the only true liaison between the Indian government and its military, and there was a tendency for the armed forces to become isolated from government decision making.
By the same token, though, the government tended to leave military decisions to the military in a live-and-let-live arrangement that both sides found politically useful. As the public clamored for an end to Pakistani border aggressions, the government could truthfully say that the matter was in the army’s hands. And the service chiefs could count on a certain amount of noninterference from New Delhi when they sat down to plan their strategies.
Of course, that put a terrific responsibility on Kuldip Sundarji. The Defense Minister had to juggle two agendas — the government’s and the military’s — and make them come out to the common advantage.
He was, therefore, a master politician. Ramesh distrusted such people.
“General Dhanaraj,” the Defense Minister said grandly. “Would you be so kind as to brief us on the First Corps situation?”
General Sanjeev Dhanaraj scraped his chair back, rose, and walked to the wall map at the head of the table. Unit positions, movements, and defense lines were marked onto a transparent overlay that showed the broad scope and thrust of the war’s first three days.
“Overall, we have every reason to be pleased with the accomplishments of the past sixty hours,” he said. “Intelligence estimates that better than seventy percent of the Pakistani air force has been destroyed or grounded. We have reason to be concerned that a number of F-16 strike fighters, which are, of course, nuclear-capable, are still being held in reserve. Efforts are underway to locate and destroy them.”
He indicated a cluster of marks in the south, a few hundred miles from the sea. “Operation Cobra commenced at 0300 hours this morning.
Following massive artillery and air bombardments, a full division is attacking here, at Naya Chor, on the highway from the border to Hyderabad. Two more divisions are in reserve. Our diversionary attacks in the Punjab appear to have successfully pulled Pakistani attention to the Lahore-Islamabad region. Our armor has reported a major breakthrough and is now moving west at a rapid pace. Lead elements have reached the Nara River, and pioneer units are preparing to effect a crossing. Success there will bring us to Hyderabad.”
The general turned from the map. “Coupled with the planned naval blockade and commando landings along Karachi’s waterfront itself, it is the Senior Staff’s belief that we will control the Sindh within another three days. Pakistani resistance can be expected to crumble shortly after that.”
Dhanaraj thanked the group for their attention and returned to his seat.
The Defense Minister took his place. “Thank you, General.” He paused, hands on hips. “Well, I needn’t remind you, gentlemen, of the serious threat posed by Pakistan’s detonation of a nuclear device. It is the government’s opinion that only an extremely swift and decisive victory in the field can end this campaign before Islamabad resolves to use such weapons against us.”
Ramesh nodded. This was certainly the real reason the Defense Minister was here. The government was worried about Pakistan’s bomb.
“Based on our own experience with atomic weapons, Intelligence believes that the Pakistanis have not yet succeeded in assembling nuclear warheads small enough to deliver as bombs, but their technicians are certain to be working on the problem.
“In addition, the government wishes to emphasize that growing pressure in the world community is working against us. Sooner or later, the UN will move to force an end to hostilities in this region. We must achieve our territorial and political goals first. We therefore have two reasons to see this affair through to a swift conclusion.
“Everything, everything depends on a rapid and successful drive to Karachi. With the country’s major port in our hands, the Pakistanis will be cut off from outside aid and forced to capitulate. While we are taking seriously their threats to use nuclear weapons as a last resort, it is our considered opinion that they will refrain from doing so, at least for the time being. Use of such weapons would create a bad image for them in the world at large and could jeopardize their trade relationship with the United States. Nor will they be eager to detonate nuclear weapons on their own soil. We must beat them before they decide that such consequences are less important than their own survival, that, in fact, their very survival is at stake. We cannot afford to have our attacks become stalled or slowed by unexpected resistance.
“And this, my friends, brings us to the principal subject of our meeting today. The Americans.”
Ramesh leaned forward, suddenly intent. What was the government going to do about the American threat?
“I need not remind you, gentlemen,” Sundarji continued, “of American interference in this region during our war with Pakistan in 1971. At that time they stationed another of their nuclear carriers, the Enterprise, in the Bay of Bengal. This was a constant threat we could not ignore throughout our operations in Bangladesh.
“Since that time, they have commissioned their installation at Diego Garcia, stationed carrier battle groups in the Arabian Sea, and organized their rapid-deployment force for intervention in our part of the world. Now they have positioned a nuclear carrier battle group only a hundred miles from our shores. With their in-flight refueling capabilities, they are within easy range of Operation Cobra’s supply lines. They can interdict our activities anywhere from Bombay to Baluchistan.
“The government is concerned that the Americans might interfere with our naval blockade of Pakistan, sever our supply lines with the Persian Gulf, or both. In the event of hostilities, our supply lines across the Thar Desert would be especially vulnerable.
“If we are to have a free hand in our operation in Pakistan, the American threat in our waters must be eliminated.”
Rear Admiral Ramesh stirred in his seat, then raised a hand. The Defense Minister looked down at him with owlish eyes. “Admiral?”
“Your pardon, sir … but does this mean we are declaring war against the Americans?” He felt a fierce, inner surge of emotion. The events of the past days seemed to have gone beyond any one government’s control, an explosion of encounters, blunders, and headlong stumbles toward the abyss of war. Was the Prime Minister actually choosing to ride events toward what seemed to be their predestined end … to take control and anticipate that war?
The minister frowned. “There will be no formal declaration, Admiral, no. But India will take action to guarantee her own sovereignty.”