A series of craters had been dug out of the tarmac area. The latter had never been of very solid construction anyway. Saxena looked to his right and almost felt radiated heat from the still-smoldering control tower from where he and the rest of his FAC operators had been running operations.
The runway, however, was remarkably intact. Several bomb craters were chipping away at the sides, but no central crater on the runway itself.
“Damage looks pretty intense. Thoughts?” Fernandez said.
“Bad, sir. Normally this level of damage is repairable at a military airbase with availability of repair equipment. Not over here. We don’t have anything we need to repair this base until we fly the equipment in using helicopters,” Saxena said as he walked towards the nearest bomb crater.
“Which could take days. I need a better option,” Fernandez ordered.
“I don’t know what to tell you sir,” Saxena replied as he peered over the edge of the crater in front of him. “This damage is
He looked over to the north and saw the small tar extension to the runway usable by light aircraft and helicopters…
“Sir, you see that tar area over there? We could use that to restart some basic helicopter operations; Mi-17s, Dhruv helicopters and the like. It’s big enough and the undamaged runway looks long enough to bring in maybe one or two Dornier aircraft at a time. Perhaps even An-32s with some minor repair. It’s a trickle of what we were bringing in before, but it’s a start,” Saxena offered.
Fernandez was not happy to hear that. But he realized it was not Saxena’s fault. His radioman’s CNR squawked. Both officers waited to see what the radioman was listening in to. The latter looked at Fernandez:
“Sir! Warlord-central is informing us that warlord is inbound via helicopter! ETA two minutes!” Fernandez raised an eyebrow at that.
“So the old chap is coming in himself, eh?”
He nodded to Saxena.
“Can they land over here?”
“Yes sir. That tar area over there I was showing you.” Saxena replied.
“Good. Mark it with green smoke,” Fernandez ordered. Saxena removed a Green-Very from his backpack and snapped it to life. Fernandez turned to the NCO:
“Tell warlord-central that L-Z is open and marked with green smoke.”
Two minutes later green smoke was rising from the tarmac as the sound of a Dhruv Helicopter filled the air. Saxena and Fernandez waited near the LZ as the Dhruv circled around the airport and then flared for landing near the cloud of green smoke. It touched down and the downwash spread the green smoke in all directions. As the engines wound down, Saxena and Fernandez walked over as four paratroopers armed with INSAS-UBGL rifles jumped out of the side doors and took up positions near the LZ. Potgam stepped out behind them.
The gruff looking commander looked around and saw the devastation wrought by the Chinese at his main logistical node in Bhutan. He had a frown on his face that would wilt a junior officer in seconds. He was also in his combat fatigues with a belt-mounted sidearm. The freezing winds in the valley caused him to remove his cap and cover his balding head. Once the cap fit him snugly, he returned their salutes. Neither Fernandez nor Saxena said anything until Potgam did:
“Those
“Son, are you the FAC team-leader?”
“Yes sir!” Saxena replied back.
“
“Yes sir. Team FAC-Alpha is combat-ineffective right now. I am the only survivor. We need a replacement team to take charge of operations down here.”
Potgam grunted at that.
“And have a new wet-nosed kid take command of this shitty mess?
“
“Good. Gentlemen, let’s get on with it. We don’t have any time. Latest R-P-V Intel suggests that the Highland Brigade north of Thimpu has finished digging and is now preparing to advance. They will make contact with our special-forces guys up at the sharp end, north of the capital. Once that happens we will need all the support your battery can provide, Fernandez,” Potgam said as he led the way back to the terminal. Potgam continued talking: