The gunner and the loader turned around from their stations to face Kulkarni who looked just as surprised. But he wasn’t about to question his orders…
“Wilco! Rhino is holding!”
What the hell… He thought as he backed away from the optics just as the radio chimed off.
“Sir, did the war just get over?” his loader asked softly.
Kulkarni shook his head in silence, opened the hatch above and pulled himself out into the freezing cold winds. He heard the sounds of artillery fire stopping on the horizon and so did the infantry gunfire noises.
He pulled out his binoculars and noticed that all other seven Arjun tanks around him had also ceased fire. He put the binoculars to his eyes and observed northeast to see the departing dust clouds as Chinese armor pulled away. All surviving Arjun MBTs on the frontline also jerked to a halt and switched off their engines.
Kulkarni heard the whipping rotor blade noise of helicopters and turned back to see the two LCHs under Wing-Commander Dutt and 199HU banking away, departing the warzone as they disappeared into the darkness to the south. There were still random bursts of distant gunfire over the horizon, but they were more erratic and random now.
An eerie silence fell over the valley that soldiers in Ladakh from both sides had not heard for more than two weeks…
“Rhino-One, this is — Two. Did the war just end?” the radio squawked.
“Looks like it, — Two,” Kulkarni replied, removed his headset and rubbed his eyes as the moment finally hit him.
It’s over!
EPILOGUE
Colonel Thomas saw the column of PLA soldiers trudging through the valley to the south under watchful eyes of his paratroopers, now wearing their red berets instead of the combat helmets. Their Tavor rifles were slung on their chests and their heavy backpacks were on their shoulders as they carefully escorted the last few columns of the survivors from the PLA 11TH Division who had surrendered. His radioman was standing behind him as Thomas watched the column of men pass by him. Each of them gave Thomas a silent, grim glance but said nothing. When the last of those soldiers had walked away, he sighed and began walking as well, leaving the exposed positions they had occupied a few days before.
The encirclement was over.
And their job was done.
The valley would remain unoccupied by both sides for now. As with the rest of Tibet, Bhutan and Ladakh, there were plans in place for the valley as well in the coming weeks.
The Dechencholing palace grounds were a hotbed of activity as the King of Bhutan stepped out of the interior buildings wearing the traditional Bhutanese formal dress along with General Potgam in his camo-uniform and beret. The vast number of journalists that had arrived in Thimpu immediately following the ceasefire began throwing questions in a flurry as the King and Potgam walked up to them.
Potgam winced from the camera flashes as the King stared to the south and remained silent. The journalists caught his glare and turned back as well to see the massive light-brown dust cloud rising into the blue afternoon sky above the white-capped peaks south of Thimpu.
The King then turned to see a similar cloud drifting east from the northern hills as well. It took him every ounce of self-restrain he had to prevent tears in his eyes, but even so, a single tear ran down his cheek which was instantly grabbed on camera flashes by the media.
He turned away and saw Potgam standing stoically next to him while the cold winds were shaking the blades of the parked AW-101 helicopter on the grounds behind him, its cockpit glass reflecting the noon sunlight. He removed a small handkerchief from his dress and wiped the tear away, cleared his throat and then turned back to the flashing cameras to outline his request for humanitarian assistance to deal with the nuclear fallout over his once-pristine Himalayan Kingdom…
Vikram took the three cups from the monks and walked over into the courtyard to find Captain Pathanya lying on the small wooden plank-sheathed bed, his left leg wrapped with thick bandages applied by the monks the day before. He was soaking up the sun despite the chilly winds battering hillsides that day.
Vikram walked over and Tarun took his cup from Vikram as he did a balancing act with the cups. Vikram walked up to the edge of the cot and handed Pathanya one of the two steaming cups just as the latter sat up straighter on the bed. Vikram finally took his last cup and walked over to where he had set his backpack and the Tavor rifle on the wall. He sat down, leaned against that wall and sipped the steaming tea, enjoying the taste, the hot fluid and most importantly, the calm…
Bhutan was quiet now, and for the last two days the three men had heard no more explosions or gunfire. And that was a welcome change to Vikram in particular, who had grown tired of it after so many days out here. But at the time they did have other problems on their hands.
The three men had walked south from their positions west of Barshong after the nuclear attack.
They had trekked over the freezing snow-capped ridges south of Barshong and had walked for more than a day and a half, with Vikram and Tarun taking turns to help Pathanya with his crushed left leg, until they had spotted the orange-brown rooftops of this monastery northwest of Dotanang.
They had walked over to the gates of the monastery on the verge of exhaustion and had been found by the monks inside. The occupants of the monastery had taken the three Indian soldiers inside and given them hot food and whatever medical aid they could. They had even sent a couple of young teenage monks as runners to try and reach the surviving Indian paratroopers at Dotanang to the south for assistance.
Those runners had not yet returned, and so Vikram and Tarun had discussed their options. One of which was that Vikram would leave Tarun here with Pathanya and then make the trip alone to Dotanang, and if required, Thimpu. They hadn’t seen any new flashes of light from the south so there was every expectation that Thimpu had not been nuked, although without radios they couldn’t be sure…
Vikram was still thinking about that as he sipped his tea when he heard the distant rumble of incoming helicopters. Pathanya and Tarun did as well and both men sat up straighter and looked south instinctively. They couldn’t see anything from inside the compound because of the high walls around it. Vikram put down his tea cup, picked the Tavor rifle leaning on the wall next to him and ran towards the main door of the compound. Tarun ran up behind him.
Both men spotted a pair of army Dhruv helicopters heading up the valley from the south. As Vikram shared a look at Tarun, the monks from the monastery also gathered outside near the grassy clearing. As the two helicopters flared for a landing, Tarun gestured to the monks to go back inside. Vikram walked forward and knelt on the clearing just as the skids of the helicopters touched down amidst a cloud of brown dust and dead grass…
The doors slid open and he saw paratroopers jumping outside with their rifles, heading towards the compound and other outlying buildings of the monastery. Colonel Misra removed the headphones inside the cabin and jumped out on to the grass. He put on his beret as he walked up to Vikram. Both men walked away from the helicopter just as the noise from its engines began whining down.