As Indian Agni missiles left the ground for their targets, all Indian aircraft and helicopters vacated the skies over Pakistan. The Indian forces near potential targets were already evacuating under emergency conditions.
The Indian warheads flew a clear and unopposed trajectory to their targets. Islamabad, Rawalpindi, Karachi, Peshawar, Skardu, Multan and half a dozen other cities disappeared under nuclear detonations within the first strike. What was left of eastern Lahore was also struck again. The barrage of missiles struck all major military airbases and ports. By the time the third barrage hit tertiary targets, much of Pakistan was already dotted with dusty mushroom clouds. The entire country had been devastated in under an hour…
By that time, the Indian military was coordinating with the StratForCom commanders for the liberal use of tactical battlefield nuclear weapons. The price for their usage had been paid in the blood of a hundred million civilians on both sides. But General Potgam’s orders to his commanders were clear: they were to lay waste any clustering of military targets until none remained. There was to be no phoenix rising out of these ashes of Pakistan.
47
It was the most surreal thing he had ever seen. It was supposed to be pitch black with stars in the night sky. But instead there was this extraordinary orange glow on the horizon everywhere he looked. It appeared as though the entire country was on fire…
Haider stood by the side of the army truck as they observed the latest explosion in Lahore. He saw the rising mushroom cloud as it climbed thousands of feet into the air. The dissipating shockwave from its explosion flew past the parked convoy of trucks like a sudden burst of wind and dust. Haider winced away as the dust flew into his eyes. He rubbed them with his fingers, cursing profanely as he did so. Akram and the other officers held on to the ends of the paper maps and other equipment to prevent them from flying off the hood of the truck.
Another flash of light disappeared into a mushroom cloud from the direction of Muridke, where they had all been, just a few hours ago. The Indians had destroyed what was left of the Pak army defenses on the Lahore front…
“There it goes,” Haider said flatly. He couldn’t feel anything. Not for the soldiers of the 6TH Armored who he had abandoned to their fate, not for the civilians of Lahore or anyone else for that matter. His only concerns had been for his family, who he had just heard, had moved across the border into Afghanistan. His other major concern was for himself. And that still needed sorting out.
“Any news?” Haider asked Akram as he walked over to the truck. He sighed and then added: “from anyone?”
Akram shook his head. “Military comms are offline. Rawalpindi is offline. Command net is offline. It’s all offline, sir!” He pounded his fist on the hood, causing everyone around to flinch. Akram then turned to Haider: “it’s all over, isn’t it?”
Haider looked at his young aide: “it’s not over until it’s over. The Indians have destroyed Pakistan, but we will rise back up again. To do that, this country needs leaders who will help guide it back on its feet, decades from now. Which means men like yourself, Akram. You see all this,” he gestured to the numerous mushroom clouds on the eastern horizon, “all of this is just the start of the jihad against the infidels. And you and your men will carry the torch.”
“But first,” Haider put his hand on Akram’s shoulder, “we have to survive. We need to head west and meet our colleagues on the Afghanistan border. The mountains there will provide us the cover we need until all this settles down. You understand?”
Akram nodded: “yes, sir. I understand. Do we start gathering straggling units if we meet them?”
“No.” Haider said flatly. “Any collection of military units larger than a few vehicles will invite a nuclear attack from the Indians. We stick with our convoy of ambulances and move alone. Once the dust settles, we will begin collating stragglers into a fighting force again.”
Haider got into the back of the truck marked as an ambulance. Akram waved to the others as they got their maps and equipment together and moved to their respective vehicles. They knew they had to put as many kilometers during the night as possible before daylight made it impossible for them to move.
“What about General Hussein?” Akram asked as he took a seat opposite Haider in the back of the truck.
“What about him?” Haider replied conversationally as he removed his helmet and ruffled his white hair. The vehicle rumbled forward, followed behind by the others.
“Do you think he made it out alive?”
Haider exhaled as he considered that question. His last conversation with Hussein had given him the impression of fatality. Hussein hadn’t sounded like a man who saw himself escaping the city like a fugitive, like…
Like we are? A voice inside Haider’s head quirked.
“No major,” he said, shaking off his self-recriminations as though it were a nuisance. “I don’t think he did.”
There was silence for several seconds between the two men. Akram broke the silence after a while: “he died for his country and his religion.”
Haider wanted to ask the young officer in front of him whether he truly believed what he had just said. But now was not the time. Haider kept his peace. If his countrymen chose to remember Hussein as that fearless leader who had taken them into battle despite all odds, then so be it. All Haider had in mind was to get to the safety of the Afghanistan border before the Indians found out that he was still alive and came after him. From there he had pre-arranged plans to smuggle him out to Tajikistan and from there to Saudi Arabia. He would leave the future of Pakistan, such as it was, in the hands of men like Akram, but his own war was over.
He finally looked Akram: “yes, major. I believe he did.”
48
Kulkarni regained consciousness to find himself staring at the pitch black interiors of his tank turret. As his mind cleared and the senses recovered, he heard the howl of the wind outside.
But how can that be… he wondered. The turret was sealed.
Wasn’t it?
He looked to the front to see the gunner and driver positions covered in dust and soot. A lifeless body lay on the main-gun breech in an unnatural angle. He moved his eyes and saw that his own turret hatch was sealed solid. But the other hatch seems to be letting some moonlight in. He realized his eyes were now adjusting to the darkness. The rays of moonlight from the open turret was lighting up the airborne dust particles inside the turret. Other than that, he couldn’t see any motion.
He tried to move his arms and legs and found them responsive, despite the aches all over his body. He had been laying there in the corner of the turret ever since he had been flung there by the shockwaves of the nuclear explosion. He recalled that he had managed to get inside the tank just as it been hit. He had seen his crew doing the same, hadn’t he?
Had they not made it all the way in?
That would explain the moonlight he saw from the other hatch, he realized. As his mind began playing the implications of what was around him, a sense of panic began to overcome him. His heartrate increased to a point that it was the dominant noise he heard. He had to get out. He had to get out of here before it was too late!
He grabbed on to the rails next to his seat to get himself up. It was a painful experience even to get himself into a seated position. After a minute of struggling, he finally made it into his seat. He finally looked around as he was used to, from his commander’s seat. And the view wasn’t pretty.