'The colonel,' Simathna said, 'is a courageous man.'
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX.
The Siachin Glacier Friday, 2:07 a. m.
Exhausted and freezing, Rodgers and his team reached the coordinates Brett August had provided.
Rodgers had half-expected to find a field with a temporary Pakistani outpost. Perhaps a few mobile missile launchers, landing lights for helicopters, and a camouflaged shed or two.
He was wrong. They found some of the most inhospitable terrain they had yet encountered. Rodgers felt as though he had stepped into some Ice Age environment.
A circle of surrounding peaks enclosed an area of about ten acres. The team had walked through a large, circular, apparently artificial tunnel to get through the wall. Starting very close to the ground, the slopes jutted out at steep angles.
At some time in the past slabs of ice must have broken from the facades and covered the ground. Or perhaps this was an ice cave and the roof had simply collapsed. The field itself was extremely rough and uneven, covered with rough-edged lumps of ice and slashed with narrow, jagged fissures. The harshness of the terrain suggested it did not get much sun.
There did not appear to be the kind of smoothness that came with melting and refreezing. They were also at a much higher altitude than they were at the mouth of the valley. He doubted that temperatures here got much above zero degrees Fahrenheit.
Samouel and Friday were still relatively alert but Nanda was numb.
Shortly after the Mi-35 turned and left, the woman had fallen quiet.
Her muscles and expression had relaxed and she seemed almost in a trance. She moved along as he tugged her hand. But she had a rubbery, unfocused gait. Rodgers had seen this kind of emotional shutdown in Vietnam. It usually occurred after a GI had lost a good buddy in combat.
Clinically speaking, Rodgers did not know how long the effects lasted.
But he did know that he could not count on afflicted soldiers for days thereafter. After everything that had happened, it would be tragic if they could not even get Nanda to tell her story.
Samouel and Friday had been walking a few paces ahead of Rodgers and Nanda. After the men had a chance to light their torches and flashlights and shine them along the walls and ground, they walked over to the general. Friday handed Rodgers the cell phone.
'Here we are,' Friday said angrily.
'Now the question is where the hell are we?'
Rodgers released Nanda's hand. She stared into the darkness as Rodgers went to check the time on the cell phone.
The cold was so intense that the liquid crystal screen cracked.
The digital numbers vanished instantly.
'Well done,' Friday said.
Rodgers did not respond. He was angry at himself too.
The cell phone was their only link to the outside world. He should have foreseen what the intense cold would do. He closed the phone and put it in his pocket, where it would be relatively warm. Then he turned to Nanda. He warmed her exposed cheeks with his breath and was heartened when she looked at him.
'Look around, try and find out why we've been sent here,' Rodgers said to the men.
'Probably to die,' Friday said.
'I don't trust any of these bastards, not the Indians or the Pakistanis.'
'Or even your own government,' Samouel said.
'Oh, you heard?' Friday said.
'Well, you're right. I don't trust the politicians in Washington either.
They're all using us for something.'
'For peace,' Samouel insisted.
'Is that what you were doing in Kashmir?' Friday demanded.
'We were trying to weaken an enemy that has oppressed us for centuries,' Samouel told him.
'The stronger we are the greater our capacity to maintain the peace.'
'Fighting for peace, the great oxymoron,' Friday said.
'What a crock. You want power just like everyone else.'
Rodgers had let the discussion go on because anger generated body heat.
Now it was time to stop. He moved between the men.
'I need you to check the perimeter,' Rodgers said.
'Now.'
'For what?' Friday asked.
