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Authors: Siddhartha Thorat

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BOOK: Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’
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The mission was to knock out an ISI (Inter-Services Intelligence) safe house. This particular abode was being used as a secret jail to hold Baloch nationalists and civilians who opposed their harsh rule. These secret jails existed all over the occupied land. Colonel Buguti gave his men a pep talk.

“When do we attack, Colonel Saab?”

“In an hour, Samsher, if we reach there,” the leader quipped as the truck bounced off the potholed road. They had not been stopped at any checkpoint yet.

Samsher was the guest’s alias. He was a RAW agent based out of the Indian consulate in Kandahar. This particular group of rebels received more than half a million dollars annually from RAW, and Samsher’s job here was to validate that it was put to good effect by the Balochis.

Besides the Balochis whom they were here to free, Samsher’s interest was in the Pakistani Colonel and his stash of information at the safe house. Evidently he headed all Pakistani intelligence activities in the area as the Chief of Field Intelligence Unit 52 and was known to have links with the group that had attacked the Indian Embassy recently. Samsher wanted to try and capture him alive. RAW wanted to send a strong message to ISI that the attacks on Indian assets in Afghanistan would be avenged and the death or capture of the Colonel would do the trick.

They drove on for an hour until they reached their target for the night. A kilometre from the target, they disembarked. Waiting at the spot were five of the Colonel’s scouts. They had been stalking the target since night fell. The Colonel debriefed his men with Samsher. Four men from the team and the original occupants of the truck stayed back with a radio while the rest of the men headed towards the compound in a combat formation.

Using the cover of trees and wild bushes that surrounded the parameter wall, they slowly crept upon the target – a well-guarded compound. In it was a single-storied structure that looked like the main house. There were two outhouses too, presumably for the staff. The entire compound was built around a small square. Reports indicated that the jail was in the basement of the main structure and officers lived in the larger of the two outhouses. A boom barrier manned by two guards was the only entrance to the compound while two sentries patrolled the outer parameter in a pair. Parameter lights lit up the path which the sentries patrolled. Except a small part at the north side, the entire parameter was well lit.

Samsher opened his backpack and set up a specialised jammer. The jamming unit was as big as an old transistor radio and required an antenna to be put up at a height. This would
block all radio signals in a hundred-metre area until the battery lasted, usually around an hour. Samsher could turn it on with a remote. Another rebel cut off the telephone connections running from the compound. The rebels divided up into two teams, one crept as close to the main boom barrier as possible and waited, while the other team, carrying a radio, followed the wall and took position in a dark spot to ambush the patrolling sentries. Buguti used his radio to signal the truck to approach the compound. With the last radio communication completed from their side, Samsher switched on the jammer using the remote.

As the unsuspecting sentries, bored with the routine, passed through the unlit part of the parameter, four rebels set upon them with Pesh-Kabz knives and neutralised them. The action was as stealthy as it was deadly.

As the team waited with bated breath, the truck rolled down the road and stopped at the boom barrier.

A soldier walked out of the guardhouse and walked over to the cab. The FC livery and the uniforms didn’t arouse any suspicions.

“What have we got here?” the guard asked the sergeant riding shotgun.

“More guests for your hotel,” he quipped as he handed over his identity papers.

“I need to check the back, okay?”

“Sure,” the sergeant answered as he opened the door and jumped out. “Look right in, I need to stretch my legs and get a light.” He said as he walked towards the guardhouse, simultaneously bringing a cigarette to his lips. The guard nodded and went towards the back.

The guard went around and banged at the tailgate and a head poked out from under the canvas.

“Open the tailgate and roll up the canvas.”

As the tailgate fell, he could see two figures, seemingly tied up and two guards. One of the ‘guards’ helped him up into the truck while the other reached out to assist; he was the one who delivered a sharp blow to back of the guards neck.

In the guardhouse, the FC sergeant asked for a light from the second guard. As the guard rummaged around for a match box, as if by magic, the driver appeared beside his sergeant. The guard felt sudden unease, but found a matchbox and lit a match as the sergeant puffed in his cigarette. The driver moved swiftly and overpowered the guard with a karate chop on the back of his neck. With both his hands busy with the matches, the young soldier didn’t have a chance.

As he fell, the sergeant caught him and gently laid him besides his desk. The two trussed up the guard and took his rifle.

Coming out of the guardhouse he threw his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. Colonel Buguti saw the signal and gestured to his men. The team now split into three strike teams, and using the cover of the truck, moved into the compound. The Colonel led one team and Samsher and the sergeant led the other two. The Colonel led his men towards the main house, while Samsher took one of the outhouses which had a radio antenna and communication dishes sticking out of the top.

As they neared their targets, two soldiers walked out of one of the houses.
The replacement sentries
, Samsher realised. As if on cue, one of the soldiers spotted an idle truck at the boom barrier and gestured to his pal. The second sentry put a whistle to his lips and Buguti’s fighters opened fire. The sound of submachine guns and assault rifles crashed through the night. Realising that the surprise would be lost in moments, the team leaders hurried towards their targets. Samsher ran into a group of young troopers rushing out through an entry point of his target structure. He had
picked the guard house billet as a target. As his FN coughed in anger, the two sides rushed into each other setting off a ferocious hand to hand, close quarter combat.

The Pakistani troops were surprised but by rushing out en mass they had reduced the odds. Most had carried their AKs or side arms. Once the two sides clashed hand to hand, the odds were even. Samsher used the butt of his weapon to knock out his assailant. His men used their butts and knives. Samsher found himself facing the business end of a bayoneted AK 47. Using his FN to fend off the first thrust, he kicked the attacker in his left knee. As the attacker lost his balance and used his AK to regain balance, Samsher shot him in his guts. He entered the house, looked back and saw that he was alone. Knowing that there was little time, he rushed up the stairs to the two rooms the ISI Colonel occupied as his room and office. As he moved through the dark corridor, his senses became highly accentuated. The extreme concentration put him in a trance-like state where every movement appeared as if in slow motion, every sound became amplified and every ray of light, however weak, registered. His nose registered every smell and odour. Someone was burning paper in a room at the end of the corridor. He moved down the corridor, holding his FN P90 in the shooting position at his shoulder, a style he had picked up from Special Frontier Force (SFF) troopers. An armed soldier in a vest emerged at the end of the corridor. He fired deliberately and the head shot bought the opponent crashing down. His own movements were smooth and effortless. Samsher walked to the end of the corridor and swiftly moved into the room. A man in his pyjamas was pulling files out of a safe in the wall and burning them in a metal dustbin. A MP5 was propped up next to him against a desk.

“Turn around, Colonel, and don’t reach for your weapon,
I will shoot to kill
.”

The Colonel turned around, “I am not scared of death. Shoot me and be quick about it!”

The Colonel had a room on the same floor as the communication equipment. As soon as the firing had started he had run to the office to destroy his intelligence files. In a swift movement, the man lunged at his MP5. Samsher had predicted the move and kicked the MP5 out of his reach. Simultaneously he hit the man in his temple with the butt and the man went down in a heap. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of flexi cuffs and fastened them on his hands.

“I want you and your information, Colonel. And the Afghan intelligence will make sure that the rest of your life will be spent begging for death every moment.”

The Colonel passed out. Samsher kicked the metal bin over and pulled out some papers which were still eligible. He looked at the open safe; most of the documents were still there. The Colonel hadn’t had much time.

He tied up the Colonel’s legs with a piece of wire he found. Then he grabbed both the guns and jogged down the stairs to find that more of his men had rushed in and were clearing the rooms below. They had housed the guard billets, kitchen and the armoury. His men had cornered two Pakistani troopers at the armoury and it seemed the soldiers were giving as well as they got. Looking at his watch, he realised they didn’t have much time now, but the stuff in the armoury was important to Buguti’s movement. He called back a young fighter, gave him the MP5 and asked him to give him his grenades.

“But, Sahib, the grenades will destroy the weapons in the armoury too,” the youngster protested.

Samsher smiled and shook his head. “Once I throw in the grenades, you and your friends must rush in quickly and finish
them. The soldiers are in a confined area with little light. We wouldn’t remove the pins, you see.”

The fighter smiled and then passed on the message down the line to the two fighters trading shots with the soldiers inside. The two fighters stopped shooting and stepped back smartly. The lull in the fire confused the two soldiers and then a loud yell, “
grenade
” followed by two grenades rolling in sent them diving behind the desk. Almost immediately the three fighters rushed in and attacked the confused men. A volley of shots and muzzle flashes ended the battle. Two men rushed in to loot the weapons and equipment while he asked a young Baloch with the ‘new’ MP5 and another fighter to bring his prisoner down. He went along with them and collected the documents and put them in a suitcase he found in the office. The colonel had come to and was struggling in his flexi-cuffs. A gag silenced his obscene rants.

In ten minutes they were out. Apparently Buguti and the Seargent had also achieved their targets. The ISI Colonel was a prisoner, so were the four other officers who were in the other buildings. Mohammed Ali Wali was sitting along with three other ragged prisoners. They had been the victims of torture, known in Pakistan as the ‘disappeared’ ones.

Colonel Buguti and Ali joined Samsher as he did a quick field interrogation of the five Pakistani officers who had surrendered. He asked the ISI Colonel to be detained as the rebels dragged away the other four to be executed.

The entire action had taken less than thirty minutes. Samsher and Colonel Buguti moved through the rooms quickly, collecting documents and codes. The rebels looted whatever valuables they could find, including weapons and radio equipment in the other structures too. Then they proceeded to rig the structures with captured explosives. They moved out to the motor pool and stole the two trucks and an armoured jeep.

“Colonel Saab, the local Pakistani troops would have heard the gunfire. They will be on their way. Shouldn’t we leave quickly?”

“Let them try. Another group of my men has setup an ambush on the only approach road to this place. They will rush to their own deaths. The Pakistani army taught me well.” He smirked as he sipped water from his canister. In the background, the first explosion destroyed the main house.

They commandeered a Pakistani army truck and a Turkish manufactured armoured jeep and drove through the night towards the Durand Line. The feared logo of the Field Intelligence Unit52 on the vehicles discouraged any check points from detaining the vehicles. They dismounted a couple of kilometres from the border and booby-trapped the vehicles. Colonel Buguti received a radio signal from the rebels who had setup the ambush that a 15-men platoon of the Pakistani army, coming to investigate, had been wiped out. It was around 0530 hours as the first light of dawn lit up the sky in the east and the assault force crossed the Durand Line. The Tajik Major and his vehicles were waiting. The ISI Colonel was put in one of the vehicles with two hefty-looking Afghan guards. Also waiting was a Mitsubishi Pajero with diplomatic licence plates. There were two Indo-Tibetan Border Police (ITBP) commandos besides the RAW officer in the SUV. Samsher handed the suitcase with the documents over to the ITBP commandos. An ANA armoured car and pickup with soldiers took positions to escort them to Kandahar.

Kabul, Afghanistan: Few hours later

“Well done, Sanjay! Our friendly ISI Colonel has been singing like a canary on steroids. The Afghans have captured almost all the members of the cell involved in the attack. And the documents will keep us busy for weeks to come.” The station
chief congratulated Sanjay alias Samsher. He was at an Indian safe house in Kabul; the safe house was an apartment in a guest house frequented by international aid workers. Sanjay had arrived earlier in the day from Kandahar in a helicopter chartered by an Indian aid agency.

“It was a pleasure, boss,” Sanjay was dressed in half sleeve shirt and khaki chinos, a combination favoured by aid workers. “You are going back to Delhi tonight, Sanjay. You have done a great job and you deserve a home posting and a promotion.” Sanjay smiled and accepted the glass of Jack Daniels and Coke his boss offered him.

“Finest, the CIA station chief sent a case over,” the station chief said beaming.

In a few hours he was airborne on an Indian Air Force communication Embraer jet to Delhi. The other passengers in the plane included a Tajik along with his young family heading to a senior command training course at the Indian Army War College, Mhow, courtesy the Government of India.

BOOK: Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’
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