The Indo-Pakistani War (The Russian Agents Book 7), page 1
The Indo-Pakistani War
Ted Halstead
Copyright © 2022 by Ted Halstead
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Books by Ted Halstead:
The Second Korean War (2018)
The Saudi-Iranian War (2019)
The End of America’s War in Afghanistan (2020)
The End of Russia's War in Ukraine (2020)
The Russian Agents Box Set (2020) - A collection of the four books listed above
The Second Chinese Revolution (2021)
China Invades Taiwan (2021)
All books, including this one, are set in a fictional near future in which Vladimir Putin is no longer the Russian President. Some events described in these books have happened in the real world, and others have not.
To my wife Saadia, for her love and support over more than thirty years.
To my son Adam, for his love and the highest compliment an author can receive- “You wrote this?"
To my daughter Mariam, for her continued love and encouragement.
To my father Frank, for his love and for repeatedly prodding me to finally finish my first book.
To my mother Shirley, for her love and support.
To my granddaughter Fiona, for always making me smile.
All characters are listed in alphabetical order by nationality on the very last pages, because that's where I think the list is easiest to find for quick reference.
Chapter One
Sain Wari, Pakistan
Near the Indo-Pakistani Border
Six Months Before Present Day
Captain Ijaz didn't know many things for sure. Like, exactly how far away the nearest Indian troops might be.
Or, how much longer his Nasr tactical nuclear missile detachment might be required to travel around this forsaken desert.
Yes, Ijaz mused. There was much he didn't know. But one bit of knowledge, though, he held with bedrock certainty.
His superiors were idiots.
Was this Pakistani territory? Sure it was.
But it was part of the Thar Desert, one of the world's largest. Most of this desert was actually on the Indian side of the border.
And as far as Ijaz was concerned, they were welcome to it.
Much of the Thar Desert was composed of shifting sand dunes, where there was no water, and nothing grew.
To be fair, the road Ijaz's detachment now traveled went through the Thar Desert's primary other type of terrain. Rocky, level land where the bare ground was punctuated by occasional scrub and even, now and then, a saltwater pond.
Much more rarely, a well with drinkable water.
Naturally, hardly anyone lived in this desert.
So, why put a Nasr missile detachment out here? To defend what, exactly?
Well, Ijaz had put that question to a Colonel at headquarters. In response, he received a history lesson.
The lesson contained many details Ijaz knew already, but having asked the question, he was obliged to listen to the response.
In 1971, Pakistan launched an attack across the Indian border not far from this exact spot. Over two thousand troops were transported by over six hundred vehicles. Two artillery batteries. And forty tanks.
On the Indian side were about a hundred soldiers armed with mortars and rocket launchers. And zero tanks.
However, Pakistani reconnaissance extended only to the border. Where the smooth, rocky terrain was perfect for both tracked tanks and wheeled vehicles.
Shortly after crossing to the Indian side, though, that changed. Rocky terrain gave way to soft sand. Where one vehicle after another ground to a halt.
To take advantage of the element of surprise, Pakistan's assault planners had insisted on a night assault. On the one hand, this also prevented attack from the air, since India's strike aircraft were not equipped for nighttime operations.
On the other, it meant that Pakistani tanks and vehicles blundered one after another into soft sand that trapped them like glue.
The Indian defenders also had the advantage of prepared positions on high ground overlooking the attackers.
When dawn arrived, so did the Indian Air Force. Pakistan's assault planners had never included air cover in their planning. Because they were confident their overwhelming numbers of troops and tanks would guarantee success without it.
They were wrong.
Thirty-six of the forty Pakistani tanks were destroyed or captured. Over five hundred of their vehicles were also destroyed or abandoned.
And two hundred Pakistani soldiers were killed.
On the Indian side, two soldiers died. As well as five camels.
The Indians built a War Memorial near the battle site, next to the Indian town of Longewala. It was still open today. After the Colonel's reminder lesson, Ijaz had looked at pictures of it online.
The Longewala War Memorial had many exhibits. Including both captured and destroyed tanks, painted with the green and white Pakistani national emblem of a star and crescent moon.
In short, Longewala wasn't just the most disastrous battle Pakistan had ever fought. It was one of the most lopsided military catastrophes of the 20th century.
Before Ijaz could ask, the Colonel had told him the point of this history lesson.
A sizeable Pakistani force had easily crossed the border near Longewala into India. It had only run into trouble moving forward later on.
So, what was to prevent an Indian force of similar size from crossing that same border in the other direction? Particularly since in the decades since 1971, the Indians had built multiple new roads on their side of the border. So the sand wouldn't be a problem.
Ijaz had nodded and said, "Yes, sir." Because that's all a Captain could do when receiving orders from a Colonel.
Ijaz knew the Colonel wouldn't welcome questions or suggestions. Besides, he already knew the answers.
Why not station a regular force large enough to deal with Indian invaders rather than a Nasr mobile nuclear detachment?
First, because the border between India and Pakistan was over three thousand three hundred kilometers long. It was impossible to guard every inch of it with properly equipped troops. Not with the military budget Pakistan had available.
That was precisely why Nasrs had been deployed all along the border. Initially, six TELs, each containing four Nasr missiles, were deployed in 2013. Transporter erector launchers, or TELs, were large vehicles that could carry, elevate to firing position, and launch missiles.
More Nasrs and the TELs to carry them had been built since, though. Now Pakistan had a dozen TELs, each with four Nasr missiles. That made a total of forty-eight tactical nuclear missiles deployed on Pakistan's border with India.
Each Nasr missile had a range of seventy kilometers. That meant that the dozen Nasr detachments could destroy Indian forces crossing the border over a radius of hundreds of kilometers. And do so at far less cost than conventional forces capable of inflicting the same damage.
Usually, a Nasr detachment traveled along roads between thirty and sixty kilometers from the border. After a map misreading incident had nearly led to disaster, each Nasr commander was under strict instructions to use the Global Positioning System built into each TEL's launch console to verify their position.
Ijaz had, reluctantly, to agree with the logic of that order. The GPS on board the TEL was part of the system used to target the Nasr missiles it carried. Its reliability had been proven countless times. If that GPS said they were on the route mandated by headquarters, then…they were, and that's all there was to it.
But Ijaz couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Ijaz knew his deputy, Lieutenant Rana, had been born and raised in Lahore. Since that was over seven hundred kilometers away, Ijaz knew Rana was just as unfamiliar with their surroundings as he was. But…
"Lieutenant," Ijaz asked quietly, "Do you know if any of the new men are from this region?"
Rana shook his head. "No, Captain, and I can't say I'm surprised. Not many people live out here. And of those who do, I doubt many end up in military service."
More troops had been added to their detachment's security detail after a Taliban attack on a mobile nuclear missile detachment further north. Ijaz didn't know them as well as the soldiers who'd been with the detachment when he took command. Of course, he'd reviewed all their files but had hoped he might have missed that one of them came from this region.
Apparently not.
And Rana was right. Pakistan had one of the world's tenth largest armies, with over 600,000 active duty soldiers. It had always been an all-volunteer force. Jobs guaranteeing adequate food, clothing, and shelter had never been that plentiful in Pakistan. These days, that meant qualifying to serve meant more than just basic literacy. It required at least some high school education.
Ijaz hadn't noticed any high schools out here.
Rana's voice broke into Ijaz's thoughts.
"Sir, are you asking because you think we may be off course and were hoping one of the new men knows this area?"
Ijaz had to work hard to keep his reaction off his face. That was exactly what he'd been thinking.
"Yes," Ijaz admitted. "Maybe I'm just nervous because all t
"I checked mine too, sir. Lots of iron oxides in the soil here, just as it said in the briefing. It's already starting to get dark, so we'll have to set up camp before long. Well, at least we can't see the fence yet, so that's good," Rana said.
Ijaz looked at Rana sharply but decided to let the joke pass.
India had finished the first 740-kilometer-long section of border fencing in 2004 along the "Line of Control" in Jammu and Kashmir, far north of their present position. That section was electrified and mounted with sensors designed to detect Pakistani infiltrators.
Next came 50,000 light poles with three floodlights on each. The 150,000 lights were strung along the entire 3,323-kilometer-long border between India and Pakistan.
Which made it the only border that could be seen from space.
The Indians had announced in 2021 that fencing would join the lights along their entire border with Pakistan. And with Bangladesh, for good measure.
Section by section, more fencing had been added to both borders. Not all of it was electrified, and sensor coverage varied.
But fencing on both borders was still not quite complete. Though Ijaz knew Rana was right. Their briefing had said the Indians had finished the fence in this sector.
It was only their second day on this deployment. Rana was also right about it getting dark. I'm still not used to how quickly nightfall arrives in the desert, Ijaz thought.
Aloud, Ijaz said, "Let's set up camp as soon as we pass that next bend in the road. Tomorrow, I want us to backtrack the same way we came. No matter what the GPS says."
In response, Ijaz was surprised to hear Rana exhale with relief. Rana said in a voice pitched too low for any nearby soldiers to hear, "I'm glad to hear you say that, sir. I've got a bad feeling about this place."
But despite their misgivings, setting up camp for the night was accomplished without incident. Movement after dusk was forbidden on any Nasr deployment, and Ijaz thought that should go double in desert regions like this one with poor roads.
Also, troops had to sleep sometime. On deployment, that happened in shifts, with half of the men on guard at any one time. Ijaz always slept during the second shift.
Why? Because Rana agreed with Ijaz that it was the worst shift. Rana counted himself lucky that Ijaz was one of the rare commanding officers who always tried to lighten the load for his men.
All the first-shift soldiers and officers were able to sleep without difficulty. The exhausting pace they kept up on a Nasr deployment saw to that.
But everyone who had to stay awake half the night? Nearly everyone needed the help of coffee or tea. Those kept "helping" even after it was their turn to sleep.
For many like Ijaz, their imaginations were an even greater obstacle to sleep. Light discipline to avoid detection meant that the detachment sat in inky darkness all night. The sentries had been outfitted with the latest night vision goggles and could see any movement for some distance.
Not Ijaz. He had to use this time to prepare his daily report to headquarters and to draft any orders that needed to be issued to the detachment. Ijaz grunted with frustration as he squinted at the dim laptop display and began his work. Its brightness had been dialed down by technicians who were more concerned with security than Ijaz's convenience.
With considerable sympathy, Ijaz looked at the soldiers stumbling from their sleeping bags once it was time for shift change. At Rana's request, Ijaz always roused him early. That way, the second shift troops didn't see what Rana looked like after sleep that was never quite long enough.
And the first-shift troops were too busy getting ready for sleep to pay any attention to Rana or anything else.
Ijaz closed the lid of his laptop and sighed. He'd always laughed at the concept of "too tired to sleep."
That was before he'd become a Nasr detachment commander.
Finally, Ijaz saw that the second shift was in place and the first shift bedded down for the night. Time to join them.
But as usual, it wasn't so easy. In fact, it was even worse than expected.
Because Ijaz still felt that something was wrong. Yes, the desert all looked the same. And yes, the GPS said they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
They were under strict orders to avoid contact with civilians for security reasons. Ordinarily, Ijaz thought that made perfect sense.
That particular order was also easy to follow. Wherever they were in Pakistan, civilians wanted nothing to do with the missiles trundling through the countryside. Or the soldiers guarding them.
That was even more true out here in the desert. The few civilians they'd seen had always been at a distance. And had disappeared quickly.
Well, Ijaz couldn't blame them. If he'd been a civilian, he was sure he'd have given a Nasr detachment a wide berth as well.
But Ijaz wished someone local was around who they could ask a simple question. One where the correct answer would immediately put all his concerns to rest.
Where were they?
Ijaz always kept his secure cell phone beside him while he slept. One practical reason was that, in theory, headquarters could call. Though in practice, that had never happened at night.
Another was more prosaic. Ijaz used the phone’s alarm feature to wake up before they were due to move out.
Now and then, though, Ijaz used another feature when he couldn't sleep.
In a low voice, Ijaz began to use the phone's voice recording function.
Low, because Ijaz was saying something he couldn't put in his official report. That he'd lost faith in the TEL's GPS and that Ijaz believed they'd somehow been led astray.
Ijaz had absolutely no proof they were lost. Their GPS had always been reliable, and no error messages or other malfunction indicators had appeared.
Commanders who jumped at shadows…well, didn't stay commanders very long.
The official report of the Nasr detachment's daily activities had been transmitted to headquarters as soon as Ijaz had hit the "submit" button just before heading to sleep. If Ijaz had missed sending it on time, command would have first called them on the TEL's secure radio. Next, on Ijaz's secure cell phone. Then, on Rana's secure cell phone.
If there had been no response to those contact attempts, a heavily armed search party would have been deployed at once by helicopter. One was always on standby at headquarters.
Until a few years before, Nasr detachments had been under orders to check in hourly. Military intelligence, though, had reported that India's electronic surveillance capabilities had improved. Twenty-four checks a day gave India too many chances to track Nasr detachments, and potentially target them as part of an invasion.
So, now Ijaz only had to submit a written report daily. The voice recording he was doing now would never be submitted to headquarters. Ijaz was doing it to try to clear his head.
It didn't take long. Precisely because Ijaz had nothing to back up his misgivings, he certainly wasn't going to say that Lieutenant Rana shared them.
After all, if this recording was ever heard by anyone else, all it would do was get Rana in trouble. Trouble Rana had done nothing to deserve.
Ijaz ended the recording and put the phone next to him. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep.
The activity level in their makeshift camp died down to almost nothing as the men who had been in the first shift drifted off to sleep. And the soldiers who had just woken tried to avoid following them.
Ijaz had just drifted off when he sat bolt upright to a sound he recognized immediately. The distinctive ripping sound of an AK-203 assault rifle. One he had heard before only as an audio file during training.
A rifle used so far by only two countries. Russia.
And India.
Pakistan's military knew a good thing when they saw it and approached the Russians to buy the AK-203 in 2019.
Russia didn't just reject the request. They did so publicly and promised they would never sell the AK-203 to Pakistan.
Only to India.
All these thoughts went through Ijaz's mind in a flash. Along with one other.
How had he slept so late? The light was so bright the sun must have risen…
