Chapter 33
Exactly two days after Colonel Chu returned from Wanlung, five men gathered on the banks of the Tsangpo at a place called Karbo, where the river enters India in the state of Arunachal Pradesh. Three of these men were commandos of the Indo-Tibetan Border Police. They were trained, not merely in mountain warfare, which all commandos of the ITBP are as a matter of course, but also in jungle warfare. This training is imparted in the Indian Army's jungle warfare training centre in Belgaum, in the jungles of the Western Ghats, a thousand miles south of Delhi. They were experts in the art of survival in the unforgiving environment of the tropical jungle. They could subsist on a diet of frogs, ants, lizards, eating them raw if required. They knew which plants had roots or leaves that were edible; which wild fruits and nuts were poisonous and which ones could be eaten. They could identify trees whose trunks could be slit to yield precious water that could be drunk. They were trained to move silently and quickly through the forest and to sleep high up in trees without falling off. Each one of them could live in the forest without food or water supplied from outside. Each one of them could walk fifty miles a day, without pausing to stop for rest. Each one of them could kill with his bare hands. In short they were as much at home in the forest as the other wild creatures who lived there. But they had one more skill which made them invaluable. All three had rafted down the Bhagirathi and the Alaknanda, not once but several times. They were familiar with the deadly power of Himalayan rivers.
The fourth member of the party was Thondup the Monpa guide who was to lead them through the jungles and the gorges of the Tsangpo. He was a little man, with a shock of iron grey hair and a perpetual smile. The fifth member was much taller than others. He had the tonsured head and the purple robes of a Tibetan monk, but he didn't look like a Tibetan. His prominent nose and large brown eyes, marked him out as an Indian. And despite his vestments he had the bearing of a military man. A close look at him would have shown the observer that this was none other than our friend Colonel P.P. Singh. The Colonel had decided to make matters in his own hands. He would lead the expedition in person rather than sit it out in his camp. He would get the girl back, safe and sound. It was one way of levelling the score with the Chinese. He knew he could not afford to be taken alive by the Chinese. The 9mm Beretta that he carried strapped to his chest under his robes would see to that. If he failed in his mission he would make sure it was his own bullet that took his life. But he knew he could not afford to fail. There was too much at stake.
They had with them two regulation inflatable rafts, their their rubber sides sheeted in thick felting to provide insulation from jagged rock ends. These rafts were powered by six compressed air cylinders. The blast of pressurised air turned a propeller that was deep under the craft. This unusual method of propulsion made them virtually noiseless. All that could be heard was a whoosh as the air rushed out of the cylinders and out of the water after striking the propeller blades. But this rather unorthodox and apparently clumsy engine had two drawbacks, it worked only as long as there was air in the cylinders, which wasn't long, and it made the rafts so heavy that they had to kept from sinking by attachment of two meal floats to their sides. As the engines were needed for travelling upstream for a few miles only, the two drawbacks didn't matter. The engines would be jettisoned once they left the river, for the rest of the journey they would carry only the rafts; lightweight models that could be easily carried by three men.
Darkness falls quickly in the eastern jungles of India. There is a brief spell of twilight which rapidly turns to the velvet gloom of the jungle night; studded with bright stars. They could dimly see the muddy brown waters of the swiftly flowing river. The channel here was about two hundred yards wide, very different from the Brahmputra down in the plains of Assam where the river is almost five miles wide during the monsoon. The thick forest on both the banks made a deeper accretion of darkness within the gloom of the night. It was a forest of short trees, their densely clustered crowns forming a canopy where light seldom penetrated. Swallows still flitted over the water, but they were no longer diving into the river, for there was not enough light to see the little fish and insects on which they feed. When he could no longer hear the soft splash of these birds the Colonel gave the signal to go ahead and the two boats slid into the water and began their Journey upstream.
The Chinese outpost on the river is about three kilometres upstream of the border, on the right bank. Their is a watchtower alongside the corrugated iron shack that houses the outpost and the lights of this tower can be seen for quite a distance downstream. There is also a cable suspension bridge. When they came within sight of lights, shining in the darkness like a red star, they disembarked. The floats were disconnected from the engine frame and the engine was then allowed to sink to the bottom. Colonel Singh made sure that the engine was jettisoned in deep water, so that it wouldn't show up during the day to any curious watcher. The floats were allowed to flow downstream with the current. The inflatable was then hoisted on to four sturdy shoulders and they plunged straightway into the dark forest.
Meanwhile in the Chinese outpost two soldiers who were on the night watch were playing patience by the light of a hurricane lantern in the veranda of the shack. A large Tibetan dog of the variety favoured by the nomads sat by their side, its muzzle resting on forelegs extended in front. Suddenly the dog pricked up its ears and stood up. It walked up to the edge of the river bank and stood looking intently down the river towards the south. The wind was blowing up the river, bringing them the scent of pamaps grass and bulrush reeds. The dog started barking furiously, all the time looking downstream. It was obvious that he was barking at something, something that he could sense. One of the soldiers went to the watch tower and switched on the search light that was mounted there, turning its beam southwards. The swathe of white light picked out the muddy brown current of the river flowing down towards India for quite a distance. The forest rose silent on both sides of the channel. The guard could see nothing unusual. He came down to consult his mate.
"I can see nothing."
"There must be something. These dogs don't bark at shadows."
"Yeah, but it could be anything, maybe a tiger or a leopard or a bear. Who knows."
"Aren't you going to go down and see."
"Not now, maybe in the morning."
"But by then whoever it is would be gone."
"Are you saying that there could be someone down there. Some human. You must be out of your mind. No one would ever think of coming this way, not after dark. Only the animals move around in this god-forsaken jungle after sunset."
"You are right, but the dog did bark."
"Well! He is not barking now."
"Okay, so lets check in the morning."
Colonel Singh and his party were trained to move in the dark. Even then it took them some time to get used to the darkness of the forest. When their eyes had adjusted to the blackness they moved off into the jungle. They were walking over a path that was invisible even to their trained eyes. Only their Monpa guide seemed to know where to go, moving by an instinct that owed nothing to the faculty of sight. Their main problem was to move the boat through the path that formed a narrow aisle in the forest, enclosed by thick vegetation. Very often it got entangled in creepers and lianas that hung over the passage. After about an hour of stumbling in the dark, the path broadened and further progress became easier. They could sense that they were now climbing steadily, though the gradient was not steep. The forest was thinning gradually. They could occasionally see the sky through the canopy of the forest, and glimpse the bright stars, fitful as fireflies.
After walking for about four hours they came to the end of the forest. Before them rose the rounded hills of the Tibetan plateau., rising fold upon fold in endless succession. Some marmots that had been feeding outside their burrow, scurried back upon seeing them. The stealthy sounds of the forest, the rustle of leaves underfoot, the barely audible swish of animals moving about, the thridding of crickets now faded away, to be replaced by the soughing of the north wind blowing down from the high upland. The six men walked on, without talking or even looking at each other, following their Monpa guide with but one purpose, to get as close to their target as possible while the night lasted. They knew that to complete the whole journey in one night was not possible. Their guide was thus taking them to a spot which would be their bivouac during the day.
They were climbing towards the summit of a hill known locally as Rupin La. A little before dawn they reached their destination. A small cave near the summit. Here they could spend the day safe from detection or artack. They could hold their own against anyone trying to attack them from the ground. The hillside was without a speck of cover on any side and as the ride narrowed to a knife edge below the cave they could sweep both sides of the hill with deadly fire. The cave gave them shelter from any attack from air. All in all, their eyrie was as good a place to spend a day in hostile terrain as could be found.
In the morning, as the six tired men were trying to catch up on sleep within the cave the two Chinese border guards went down the river to investigate, taking the dog with them in their speed boat. They went slowly down river keeping close to the right bank, and cruising with the current. When they had come about a mile downstream the dog began to bark excitedly at something on the bank. Tying the boat to a tree trunk the two men stepped ashore. The dog led them to a spot where, imprinted clearly in the wet mud of the shore were the marks of several pair of shoes. The prints were not very old, because the deep tread marks were still sharp on the edges, where the rust brown water of the river was seeping into the indentations in the mud. The footprints led into the forest and disappeared. The dog tugged at the leash, eager to follow the scent through the forest, but after going with the dog for about half an hour an finding nothing the two soldiers decided to return to their base and inform their superior officers.
The Platoon commander at Shepka, about fifty miles north west of the border outpost on the river puzzled over the message that had come from the far-flung post. It spoke of several footprints seen on the river bank. These could only have been made by the Monpas who lived in the forest, except for the fact that the Monpas seldom wore boots. They preferred to move about in yak-hide sandals that they made themselves. May be they were made by some other nomads. The possibility of intruders coming up from India did not occur to the Platoon Commander. Such a thing was simply unthinkable. So he asked the border guards to go back to spot and investigate the matter further.
They went back to the river, this time also scouring the left bank, but there was nothing of suspicious nature on that side. As they crossed over to the right bank, moving slowly, one of them saw the snout of the exhaust pipe of the submerged engine, just visible on the surface of the water. On looking closely they could faintly discern the outline of some metallic object that lay in about six feet of water. One of the soldiers, who was a good swimmer, went down to see, what it was. What he reported sent his friend into a frenzy of excitement. Both of them hurried back to the post to report that they had seen three large metallic cylinders, with outlet pipes leading up to a propeller, submerged in the river. This contraption could only be some kind of boat engine. This discovery, coupled with the footprints could only mean one thing-some one had come up the river from the direction of India. There was no question of coming down the river with a heavy engine such as this. It followed naturally from this that whoever had come up the river was probably trying to avoid detection. Which meant further that the intruders, for so they seemed to be, were on a clandestine mission. Even the Platoon Commander at Shepka was able to infer this much from the facts, and he lost no time in relaying this information to the Command H.Q. in Lhasa.
The message reached the table of General Hu Feng in the late afternoon, as he sat watching the sunshine gilding the golden spires on the roof of the Potala. It took him only a few seconds to digest the information and realize its gravity. "Do you see what this means, Colonel, don't you?"
"Yes General. This means some kind of rescue team has been dispatched from India to take away the fugitives whom we are looking for."
"Indeed, and how clever of them to use the river for sneaking in. I regret that this possibility did not occur to me. We are obviously dealing with very clever people."
The General rubbed his palms in anticipation. He obviously liked matching wits with his clever adversary. "Where do you think these intruders will be heading?"
"Its difficult to say anything with certainty. But as they have come up the river, they seem to heading generally in a northerly direction."
"Precisely. We have assumed that the fugitives are going south eastwards towards the Indian border. Now if these intruders are going to rendezvous with the fugitives they have to head in a generally north western direction."
The General drew an imaginary line north westwards on the map that was spread out before him. "But of course, Thamba Dzong, that is where they are headed. Look Colonel, if we extend this line north-westwards it seems to go towards the castle. The only problem that they will have to solve is to cross the Nyenchen Thagla. The mountain is, I believe, very steep on its south side, and not at all easy to scale. In any case, let us make preparations to reach the castle in the morning. In the meantime send out search parties in this area south of the Tsangpo, where they should be located as of now. Use choppers, ground patrols, nomad informers, whatever. If we can find them before it is dark, so much the better."
"I'll set things in motion immediately sir."
"And Colonel?"
"Sir."
"Be on your guard. These intruders will be trained commandos, without compunctions about killing. We don't want to be taken by surprise."
The choppers were airborne within the hour, flying over the Tsangpo valley. Colonel P.P. Singh and his men could hear them clattering overhead as they waited in their cave, refreshed after a long sleep. They knew they were safe from detection so long as they did not show themselves. Soon it was dark. The choppers flew back to base as the sunlight died. When it was completely dark, the six men emerged from the cave and moved down the mountain moving in a single file. They moved fast, for they had a long way to cover, yet they were alert and watchful beyond the scope of ordinary men. They knew that the enemy was now looking for them, and the chances of running into a patrol couldn't be ruled out.
Once again they moved without any lights. Their Monpa guide steered an unerring course over the dimly seen steppe. The vague outlines of ridges and-mountains that loomed suddenly out-of the darkness seemed to him familiar objects, and he moved over the benighted landscape as though it was all broad daylight. They knew that they were safe from Chinese patrols as long as they kept to their lonely track. They were afraid only of the dogs. If the Chinese were using dogs, they could smell them from a long way away. There was nothing they could do then but to dig themselves in and wait for the Chinese to show themselves. But luckily the wind was blowing from the north and they were walking into the wind. It was unlikely that anyone looking for them would be coming up from the south. Danger was more likely to come from the west or north, and the direction of the wind would ensure that their scent did not carry to the dogs coming from that direction.
They redoubled their precautions when they reached the river about an hour before dawn. It was then that they heard their first disturbing sound. The sound of hoof beats, of horses trotting over the windswept steppe. The sound was somewhat muffled by the coarse grass that still grew in rough tussocks, mantling the open veldt, but there was no mistaking it. It was the sound of riders. The six men doubled up a mountain slope and took up positions on the ground. They lay prone on the grass, in a rough crescent formation covering the valley in the direction in which they expected, the riders to come, their Kalashnikov rifles ready for action, their bodies all but invisible from below. The Chinese patrol came into sight round a bend, trotting slowly, two Tibetan mastiffs ambling in their wake. Luckily the wind continued to blow favourably. The patrol trotted past, looking neither to the left, nor to the right. The six men, breathed again once the patrol had gone out of sight.
The most dangerous part of their journey, they knew was the crossing of the river. They would have to battle the current as they crossed in their raft, now without any engines. The valley was without any cover along the banks and they had only a short period of darkness left in which to complete the crossing and find the ravine on the far side. Once they were within the shelter of the ravine they should be safe. But if anyone saw them crossing the river or entering the ravine the game would be up. The biggest danger, apart from a Chinese patrol was from a casual passer by or some unexpected observer keeping watch from a concealed point of vantage. But they had no time to lose and the risk would have to be taken.
The mountain now rose steeply on the far side of the river and when he judged that they were close to the mouth of the ravine, which he could dimly discern in the gloom as a deeper darkness within the shadowy mountain ramparts, the Colonel gave the signal to embark. The onrushing current took them rapidly downstream. But the channel here was free from rapids or hidden rocks. They were able to reach the north bank about half a kilometre downstream from where they had embarked. The grey light of dawn was just beginning to make things visible when they reached the shelter of the ravine.
It was a forbidding place. The narrow defile within two mountain walls was all but choked with huge boulders. The only level place within it was a small cove that had formed at the mouth of the ravine, where the river waters had formed a tiny inlet. Thereafter the bed of the ravine went up steeply and the six weary men could see no let up in the gradient as they trudged up the slope. After walking for a while they found shelter in the lee of a large boulder. Here they hid . their boat and then flopped down on the stony bed of the ravine and slept.
They did not sleep long. They were awakened by the harsh crying of a bald eagle that was looking down at them from its perch on top of a ledge along the wall of the ravine and crying raucously. Colonel Singh squinted up at the eagle, a bird of enormous size, its scaly talons and ankle spurs clearly visible even at the distance. Eagles can be dangerous when aroused and this one was very angry indeed. It was obvious that they were sleeping close to the spot where it had its nest and the bird was angry at the unexpected intrusion into this secluded eyrie. They had slept only a couple of hours but the Colonel was glad to be awakened. They had to get to the castle as early in the day as they could, and they still had six miles of hard terrain to cover. So they were glad to be on the move again.
