You wanna know special?
[This text is excerpted from a copyrighted source, now under publishing.]
Afghanistan, 2004, Regestaan Desert. 4th Company for the Afghan Northern Alliance. The specific roles and posts of my unit are albeit not classified, I have chosen to keep them out of this.
The flesh trade was just picking up on the Durand Line. Slavers and traffickers, sometimes also dressed up as NGOs and social workers; were abducting and selling children from 5–15 years old, luring young girls across the borders into Uzbekistan, Pakistan, the NWFP… such that to save their daughters families would dress them as boys, draw little mustaches and beards on them, or stick some real hair on their faces with gum, etc.
Also, the Taliban, having fallen from CIA’s grace, paid for weapons in this way sometimes, giving these children and women to foreign military officers for ammunition, guns, transport and information.
There was a market, a bazaar where in a district for whoring and gambling and fighting pits and stuff, where parents of abducted children, or police would first look. They then would go to the Taliban, who, in exchange demanded money, or services.
That’s why you didn’t act wildly and shoot or maim a normal looking family guy gone suddenly insane and carrying guns or bombs where he should be looking for his baby. It was an unwritten rule to try and use minimal force with these people acting only to save their child.
I did visit the fights and the flea markets, but never went to the ‘harems’, where you could see little, innocent babies with soorma and lipstick ready to service the gigantic filthy mongoloids who came there.
The Alliance had won every battle, and was only being hurt by the proxies, the families of poor householders, forced to render service to Talibaners, for the safe return of their children. You could see them fighting like zombies, eyes blank, no emotional investment in the fight, guns hung loosely from soft limbs not meant for war but trembling to hold their babes once more.
The passionless Alla-hoo-Akbars they shouted were more like indictments against the very God who gave them the doomed children. My heart went out to them, even as I had to shoot them one by one. I slew 4 men, only working hard to get their daughters/sisters back.
Do you know what this is like? I often ask couch-warmongers, and idiots who are fascinated with the workings of a special force. A special force is something sent to resolve situations that cannot be disclosed to the world. We are trained in speed. In finality. In precision. Only to obliterate the offending part of humanity, and every evidence of it ever having been. So the rest of mankind gets to live in it’s fool’s paradise of “democracy, socialism, what-the-fµck-ever”. I digress.
We found that three of our own were not only partaking of the trivially worded, proverbial “बहती गंगा..” ( their words, not mine ), but also compromised in terms of info, and that it had reached Command. A tall, dark chap from Bengal or Assam, and two from Rajasthan. Their names were one step shy from being released to public, as at the same time CNN was doing a story on this evil trade.
Our Command (which was in the hands of a true patriot and Son of India) felt that it was time to affect change, in the ranks, in morale, in standards of the Indian Army. We had a choice of shipping them home to court martial them, but our group commander (OSIC) was a man of real steel .
It was time to set precedent.
I shot two of them myself, one was taken by his own acquaintance. We could not allow the Army’s name to be sullied by the procedures that would rake up this filth. And with CNN’s expose already in play, we would really suffer more than we deserved, all because of three sons of bitches. After their bodies were ‘discovered’, carried back and shipped home as ‘casualties’, there was a new found respect, an awe, of the Indian Para contingent, among the Brits, the US special operators, the Turks, mercs, everyone.
I have shared this, not to indulge your appetites for fantabulous military glory, or steal valor from my comrades in the alliance actions. We all know, how it all went to shit later, anyway. Ask most police, paramilitary, peacekeeper army… to take a stand like that, and they get shaky feet.
Hundreds of thousands line up for selection into India’s Armed Forces every year. In the other countries, you have to chase young men to recruit and those who get away are called ‘dodgers’. But in India, you have got to cut it, mate. Of the few hundreds who can cut it, the SF commando are selected in not tens, but ones. That is what makes them “Men Apart, Every Man An Emperor”.
