Supply Lines
Lin Huaisheng approached the conference hall and peered through the doorway. The room was sparsely filled, which eased his nerves slightly. He straightened his uniform and cap and walked into the tiered lecture hall. About forty people were waiting in silence to hear his briefing on the terrain and geography of southern Tibet. He knew that interest in the region was widespread in China, but the number of officers and commanders who had spent years studying the area was fewer than the people in this room. Most of the audience were field-grade officers; he recognised quite a few, which meant the relevant people had turned up. In the front row, as expected, a single officer sat beside a black telephone. Lin knew that whoever was on the other end might be very senior indeed; or the old man might simply have been lying about that.
He sat down and checked the slides and notes on his computer. Another twenty-odd staff officers who had been smoking in the corridor filed in, giving the 500-seat hall a slightly more seminar-like atmosphere. He cleared his throat to signal the start. As he opened the first image, someone killed the nearest lights. The photograph appeared on the screen behind him: a stretch of jagged mountain terrain, treeless slopes, with a mass of mud and snapped fir trees choking a stream at the base.
"Comrades, this is the typical terrain of that region. I took this photograph last November. The location is near the Line of Actual Control, south of Nyingchi."1
No reaction from the audience. No nods, no headshakes. He noticed several people in the front row writing furiously without looking up, which puzzled him; he had spoken exactly one sentence.
"The geological instability in this area renders maps unreliable over time. For reconnaissance personnel, it is a formidable problem." He continued. He was finally rewarded with a few headshakes. Perhaps they objected to his dismissal of the scouts' relevance.
"You are all as familiar as I am with the temperature and rainfall data. The window for infantry operations is late September to November. Logistics, however, will be a serious constraint."
"Can you start with India's logistics system? We know the dispositions on our side of the line." A voice from below. Lin had not expected to hit a wall this early. He glanced at the speaker: the same colonel who had debated the policy expert a few days earlier. The man evidently made a habit of challenging whoever was at the podium.
"Certainly." Lin jumped from slide 1 to slide 20. The interruption threw off his sequence, but his preparation was thorough; he could handle anything.
Slide 20 was an overhead satellite image, roughly one-metre resolution. Figures and barracks were visible. It showed a highway whose construction standard appeared to fall below a Chinese provincial road.
"This is the highway from Siliguri.2 This section is south of Bagdogra. India began building this strategic road in the Nehru era and has spent forty years on it. Its total length approaches that of the Sichuan-Tibet highway. The eastern section is still not fully complete. This road connects Bihar and Assam. For most of its length it runs far from the LAC, but in the Siliguri Corridor it passes very close to the Nathu La pass. Roughly within rocket-artillery range."
"Does all their logistics go through this road?" Another question. Indian logistics was clearly what they cared about.
"The bulk of overland transport depends on this road. India also has a railway, which I'll address later. This road carries the supply requirements of three corps across the region. However, the main base in central Assam, Jorhat, has an airfield capable of operating Antonov transports. No. 43 Squadron 'Ibex' and No. 49 Squadron 'Javelins' fly out of that base, shuttling supplies to Bihar. The air route roughly parallels the ground route. Our radar can monitor their takeoffs and landings."
"What aircraft types?"
"Both transport squadrons currently operate the An-32."
This produced a curious reaction. Lin saw several faces flicker with involuntary smiles; apparently these staff officers felt the opposing equipment was rather weak.
"However, these units may soon re-equip with C-130s. And an airfield southwest of Jorhat is under construction, potentially for C-17 operations."
The smiles vanished. Whispered conversations broke out. Most faces went blank. The note-takers in the front row still had not looked up.
"As for the remaining transport assets: the IAF has helicopter detachments from 20 Wing at Bagdogra, elements of 19 Wing at Guwahati, 115 Helicopter Squadron of 11 Wing at Sitapur, and 129 Helicopter Squadron at Jorhat." Lin cycled rapidly through photographs of different airfields showing rows of Mi-17s and HAL Cheetah helicopters parked on the ground.
"Deeper in the rear, there is 22 Helicopter Wing at Kunhigram, with two helicopter squadrons dedicated to logistical support for the 57th Infantry Division at Imphal."
"It is worth noting that these helicopter units are equipped with types well-suited to high-altitude operations, such as the indigenous HAL Dhruv. Geographically, India holds the advantage of lower elevation. Unlike our own helicopter units, theirs need not cross passes as dangerous as Dochula. They can conduct vertical resupply to most forward areas in virtually all seasons."
A sombre mood settled over the room, particularly among officers encountering the southern-Tibet sector for the first time. The sheer volume of Indian air-transport assets in the region made a deep impression.
"Additionally, as I mentioned, India has a railway line into the Assam region. This railway is of a very low standard; at least one month per year it is damaged by flooding or other natural disasters. Its speed is low and its capacity quite limited. Previous General Staff assessments have consistently concluded that this railway cannot play a significant role in wartime."
The atmosphere eased slightly. Everyone knew wartime rail transport was critical, at least in China. But India's rail speeds remained barely faster than in the colonial era, a widely acknowledged fact.
The murmuring subsided. Lin continued.
"Now, returning to India's forward deployments…" He closed the current image and clicked back to slide 2.
Far away in the underground command centre at Peshawar, Group Captain Sami had been allowed to sit in and listen as ground controllers directed No. 5 Squadron's counterattack. The real air-battle control was being handled by an Erieye AWACS closer to the fight; the ground station only gave fire-or-hold authorisations when requested from the air.
Sami sat with his legs crossed behind the ground controller, Major General Badr Islam,3 an old comrade. Islam had gone bald and thick around the middle, and was now a major general. Sami was here to pass the time; his rank was sufficient to get him a seat. His own next sortie would have to wait until that afternoon, when a transport aircraft brought missiles and fuel back to the base at Attock; by then, No. 26 Squadron's ground crew should have his No. 101 Thunder repaired.
"Falcon reports: MiG-21 formation detected, three aircraft, launched from Srinagar." Someone on the radio. Hassan's voice. Sami could not suppress a cold smile.
"Hold heading. Close from the rear quarter. I will monitor other sectors." The AWACS controller.
"It's a feint. They're probing our surveillance. Their strike aircraft are hiding somewhere. Has to be." Islam turned to Sami.
"Agreed. If I were running Indian air operations, I'd do the same. Use front-line fighters to screen the attack package."
"What do you think the target is?" the general asked.
"You're asking what they'll hit on Day Two? If it were the Americans, without question: airfields and SAM sites."
"Ha. Our batteries have been moving non-stop." The general laughed.
"I know that." Sami shook his head dismissively.
He knew how poor Pakistan's counterstrike had been since the war began. Every aircraft and missile battery was moving aimlessly, relocating, fleeing, to the point that three Mirages had penetrated to within striking distance of Khushab, a 400-kilometre breach. Ground radar had detected that flight early, but there were no fighters available to intercept because everything was in chaos. On the other hand, objectively, this very chaos had exhausted the Indian Air Force as well, and most Pakistani equipment had survived intact.
"Perhaps they're waiting for the army's SAM batteries to come active, so they can fix those positions."
1. Nyingchi (林芝): A prefecture-level city in southeastern Tibet, close to the Line of Actual Control with India's Arunachal Pradesh. Lin's photograph establishes the extreme difficulty of the terrain: mudslides, unstable geology, and seasonal inaccessibility. ↩
2. Siliguri (西古里): See C18N5. The highway from Siliguri through the "Chicken's Neck" corridor is the only overland route connecting India's northeastern states to the rest of the country. Lin's point that it passes within rocket-artillery range of the Nathu La pass underscores its vulnerability. ↩
3. Major General Badr Islam (巴德拉伊斯拉姆少将): The ground controller at Peshawar. The Chinese 伊斯拉姆 directly renders "Islam," a common element in South Asian Muslim names. His relationship with Sami as an old comrade allows the group captain privileged access to the command centre. ↩