The General’s Diary
Islamabad 4:00 AM
Gen. Kareem Khan was a worried man. He could barely recognize the apparition he saw in the mirror of his carpeted bedroom in the command bunker. The eyes appeared to have sunk in further, the dark circles ever larger and darker, his tummy ached mildly all the time – the ulcer was back, he seemed to have aged a decade within the span of the last 48 hours. All these years, nay, decades of preparation had come to this… this big naught. Never overtly religious, he had felt the theological pull these last few days, and he turned inwards, introspection was increasingly drawing him in. Sleep was a commodity which had deserted him, he would be up at 4:00 AM – Loss of early morning sleep, the first sign of depression; Earlier in the evening, he had ordered the freezing of all foreign currency accounts within Pakistan, no more dollar and euro withdrawals – the first sign that Pakistan – His Pakistan, was dying. What had began as a trickle had to be nipped in the bud, for he knew, when the deluge occurred, they would all be swept away.
An hour ago he had received news that a group of persons had thrown a grenade in a Sunni mosque in Peshawar; at least five men were killed. Unlike in the past, there was no army this time around, he would have to depend on the police and paramilitary forces, which he detested. He already knew that the situation would get out of hand, and his police and paramilitary chiefs would come apologizing, begging for more time, rambling on about shortages of equipment, manpower. Tonight the conflagration that would take place would surely set NWFP on fire, perhaps as far as Karachi. The people of that seaside city would wake up in the morning to find the city under a curfew. The religious leaders, in custody, house arrest, incommunicado with the masses. He mildly suspected that RAW had a hand, or perhaps it was the Iranians and their Shia zealots, his common sense told him otherwise. And so he had rushed in two of his trusted aides to Peshawar to oversee and do what they could.
Across the cities and towns of Pakistan, electricity was shut off dutifully at sunset and restored the next morning. Only the rich and elite townships were spared, with instructions to keep the curtains drawn, lest any light stream outside. The average Pakistanis lived in windowless ghettoes, but were not spared either. Outside on the streets, the prices soared, everything from essential commodities to drugs was in short supply. Racketeers and blackmarketeers ruled the roost. The lines at the petrol pumps grew longer every day, ordinary people cursing their luck – the fuel had been requisitioned by the armed forces. No one dared speak anything against the government or the army – you never knew the effect careless words would have on the wrong set of ears. (500 Kms east, in India, people went about their business as usual in the towns and cities. Everyone had heard about the war that was being fought, and everyone hoped that they would teach the Pakistanis a lesson this time around too. The men though worried more about mundane things like making more money, and the possibility that Malika Sherawat’s latest movie may not make through the censor board. The women, as usual worried about their kids, their careers, or whether the main protagonist in the daily Saas – Bahu soap would have an abortion or would choose to lead life as an unwed single mother!)
The meeting with the service chiefs in the evening was no better either. He had come around to the view, that the Indians ruled the seas. That it would be foolish to try and take them on in the open ocean, and with the rusting buckets they had. The navy was advised to keep its assets close to Pakistan’s coastline – he knew India’s bigger ships could not follow them into the shallow uncharted waters, the navy was instructed to go after any small – medium naval platforms, they could get their hands on. These were likely to be poorly protected, and vulnerable, and propaganda could pass off a small minesweeper / coastguard boat as a battleship. The essence was numbers, the odds evened out the nearer one got to his coastline.
The air force chief, he detested. This man was too independent thinking for his liking. For the first time in his career, he was in a situation, where he would have to ask this man to come to his, the army’s aid. His instructions were short and crisp. No more dazzling deep penetration strikes, the air force was to reorganize its assets and concentrate on harassing the Indian army’s advance through the south of Punjab. The Indian air force was to be kept busy, by repeated, random appearances all throughout the international border with the caveat that their own assets had to be protected at all costs, even to the detriment of the mission on hand. Henceforth, all important missions would have to be cleared by him and the air force chief (He allowed him that) before fructifying. He had used his personal rapport with the Saudi crown prince and defense minister for the immediate supply of chaff and flares that his air force was running short of. On the subject of transfer or loan of Saudi air force fighters which the Pakistani pilots flew, he argued that the pilots could not stand by and see their motherland being decimated by the enemy. The Crown prince gave a noncommittal “We’ll look into it” answer to this request, but had offered immediate supplies of spares and other equipment as required. (He had wanted the OIC to pass a resolution condemning India’s act of aggression, but all the Organization had agreed to was a sermon to settle issues in a peaceful manner including Kashmir – Which Pakistan’s media had claimed as a major PR coup).
The Chinese had offered to table a resolution calling for the immediate cessation of hostilities, in the Security Council. Kareem had not agreed to this - he would not go in for a ceasefire with the Indians holding 20,000 sq Kms of his territory, he wanted time to capture some territory of his own before a stalemate and ceasefire came into play. Of course he had given up hopes of an outright victory against the Indian jauggernaught, he was playing for a stalemate. The Chinese then agreed to table a watered down resolution calling for peace in the subcontinent and generally condemning the Indians for being aggressors, two days from now.
Two days back, he had promulgated a presidential ordinance, giving full and final powers to ISI’s chief, making him the final authority on the domestic affairs of Pakistan’s day to day running. Using this ordinance, the ISI could supercede the orders of the local district administration, police chiefs and local courts. Media censorship was in place, unwanted elements simply disappeared after that fateful knock on their doors at midnight. The ISI was further instructed to activate its level 3 and 2 cells inside India’s towns and cities, and were given a free hand to institute terrorist strikes at military installations ordinance factories, important financial and industrial entities and places of public gatherings – railway stations, airports, stock markets, movie halls etc. Special attention was to be paid to the spread of rumours, for which the ISI had in its pay knowingly or unwittingly religious leaders, local politicians, rabble rousers, and the like. Kareem was sure the job would get done pretty efficiently, they had perfected the art over the last three and half decades.
On the PR front, the press briefings from Islamabad were colourful affairs with the use of a wide variety of euphuisms to describe the loss and utter confusion created in the Indian rank and file as a result of Pakistan’s counter attacks, the Indian death toll was by now supposedly in high four figures. The number of aircraft, naval platforms, armoured units lost or destroyed in battle were mounting with every passing hour. The Indian soldiers were deserting their field units in hordes. All this over increasingly belligerent patriotic questions put up by the vernacular and local Pakistani media. All this over cups of chai – coffee and kebabs. The foreign media, (The Indian media were not allowed, they received inputs from the Sri Lankan, and other sources) watched the tamasha patiently. In contrast, the PIB sound bites from New Delhi were mundane affairs with heavy censoring of locations, non dramatic and often included the useage of endless military parlence, which the dimwits in the local media more used to penning political write ups understood with some difficulty. Pakistan’s television and radio stations played endless sessions of patriotic songs, with Noor Jehan crooning “Aye watan ke sajeeley jawanon…” and young teenage pop bands with songs which invariably all sounded like, “Paak-Kastan – Paak-Kastan, Meri jaan Paak-Kastan…” The talk shows were now recruiting ‘experts’ off the streets, to describe the victory of pakistan, to educate the masses that despite the rumours on the streets, the Indians were down with their heads between their legs, and were all but begging for ‘reham’ from their advancing forces. After the first few shows, Kareem khan had to ring up the director of PTV to procure a few coat suits for these ‘experts’ to change into before they went on air – to enhance the credibility of what all they had to say.
As he gazed at the large table map in the situation room, showing the Indian advance as red blocks, the Pakistani defenses in green. The Punjab, His Punjab was all red down south. He was glad, no one had raised the subject of nuclear weapons in the last meeting – he did not want to be the one to take the decision. He banished those thoughts from his mind. Besides, despite the fact that they had suffered some losses, the situation was far from being unsalvageable, by the grace of the almighty, he would take the fight to these idol worshipping Hindus. They would experience at first hand, the wrath his army was capable of inflicting. He would pin them down in the plains of the Punjab, and launch simultaneous strikes into the chicken neck and down south into the Sind - Rajasthan desert. He pushed away thoughts of death and destruction and entered his ADC’s office, who was putting final touches to his itinerary for the day.
“Morning Sir,” the ADC Stiffened.
“Shamim” Kareen nodded, as he looked at the itinerary. The US Central command 2IC was scheduled to meet him at 10 AM - This man would come in with a long sermon, man to man talk and offer the goods that he desired – weapons, spares, in the end. But he was sure, a similar American delegation was in New Delhi, offering intelligence intercepts, satellite data, and ORBAT info, anything to the Indians.
He asked a few short questions and issued a few changes, casually looked at the newspaper headlines,
“Sirf bakwaas likhna aata hai in logon ko…”
then strode out of the room. At the door he stopped, turned to the ADC,
“…and Shamim…” he snapped his fingers trying to recollect.
“Hack that website of theirs. That rakshak – something site” still snapping his fingers.
“Again Sir ?”
Kareem nodded as he exited the room smiling…
Possible Indian Military Scenarios - Part III
Yunis Khan was a constable in the Sindh Police. He understood little of the war, except that the sahibs were increasingly glum. His three cousins were somewhere at the front, he prayed five times every day for their well being. Yunis would not know that one of them had died in the Pabbi forest, another in the retreat from the cauldron and a third... well, even his Subedar did not know where he was.
The crowd in front grew restless. Bloody shias he muttered under his breath. He just wished the math***d's would get out of this street and leave him alone. He'd had enough of this crowd control nonsense... surely there were more pressing issues at hand. Bloody kaffir army were threatening to break through despite the terrible losses they must be suffering...
A bottle fell near him, showering him with fragments and causing him to duck. He crouched behind the jeep whilst the Inspector barked orders to stand firm. The tension was rising.
More bottles, sometimes stones. And then the first petrol bomb.
The police line stirred, but the inspector stood firm.
Not for much longer. A bottle fell near him, covering him in kerosene and then the flames. Yunis heard screaming and then a sharp pain as a stone hit his shoulder. His reflex action twitched his right arm...
and his forefinger, inside the trigger guard. An Ak47 spewed out towards the crowd
When the noise was over. Yunis could only see the mob rushing towards him. He tried to reload, to run, to...
he felt hands grabbing at him, and then fists and... he called out to Allah, and then his Ammi-jaan
he felt the tyre go around his neck and then mercifully, he passed out
So, it begins.
The crowd in front grew restless. Bloody shias he muttered under his breath. He just wished the math***d's would get out of this street and leave him alone. He'd had enough of this crowd control nonsense... surely there were more pressing issues at hand. Bloody kaffir army were threatening to break through despite the terrible losses they must be suffering...
A bottle fell near him, showering him with fragments and causing him to duck. He crouched behind the jeep whilst the Inspector barked orders to stand firm. The tension was rising.
More bottles, sometimes stones. And then the first petrol bomb.
The police line stirred, but the inspector stood firm.
Not for much longer. A bottle fell near him, covering him in kerosene and then the flames. Yunis heard screaming and then a sharp pain as a stone hit his shoulder. His reflex action twitched his right arm...
and his forefinger, inside the trigger guard. An Ak47 spewed out towards the crowd
When the noise was over. Yunis could only see the mob rushing towards him. He tried to reload, to run, to...
he felt hands grabbing at him, and then fists and... he called out to Allah, and then his Ammi-jaan
he felt the tyre go around his neck and then mercifully, he passed out
So, it begins.
Dude psaggu and daulat
Are you writing this scenario combined?
Is this the first part of the scenario?
I mean its pretty confusing to see so many scenarios and it is highly possible to get mixed up.
Some other BR fites have a good way of telling these scenarios. They have headings and part numbers etc. Could you guys please follow that so aam junta like me can easily get thru it.
P.S not meant for offense. Just for more clarity
Are you writing this scenario combined?
Is this the first part of the scenario?
I mean its pretty confusing to see so many scenarios and it is highly possible to get mixed up.
Some other BR fites have a good way of telling these scenarios. They have headings and part numbers etc. Could you guys please follow that so aam junta like me can easily get thru it.
P.S not meant for offense. Just for more clarity
