The waterfront was also a good spot for radio, giving a clear line to the Indian Ocean satellite, and close enough to the banking district and Stock Exchange for Cartwright to say he was reporting from the area. It was also near to Horniman Circle where the Town Hall had been the target of a Pakistani bomb just two days earlier. The area was still cordoned off, yet the stock exchange had only dipped by a few percentage points because of the war. Disappointedly, Cartwright decided his story would have to be about Indian resilience ploughing on in an atmosphere of business as usual. This was hardly a community living in panic.
Scott got through to Traffic, the BBC’s communications centre, and was patched through to the radio studio in Wood Norton. The programme editor came on the line, asking if Cartwright could begin in fifteen seconds. They wanted an Indian reaction to the resignation of Christopher Baker. Cartwright was halfway through his objection that Baker was definitely not the story, when he heard the presenter’s voice in the earpiece.
Presenter: We have finally got line to India, where our Asia Correspondent, Martin Cartwright, has managed to get to us from Bombay, or Mumbai as it is known locally. Before we talk about the situation there, Martin, can you tell us the impact Christopher Baker’s suddenly leaving office will have on Britain’s relations with India during this critical time?
Cartwright: Very little, I expect. India is in the middle of a serious border dispute with China. We’ve just learned since getting here that India has carried out a major missile attack on Chinese bases with the aim of pushing Chinese forces out of Burma – or Myanmar – and its naval forces out of the Bay of Bengal. I can’t see Christopher Baker having much influence—
Presenter: I’m sorry to interrupt, but Mr Baker’s supporters are saying that he was carrying out highly influential behind-the-scenes negotiations to try to bring about peace in South Asia, that he is a crucial player.
Cartwright: Well if he was, it didn’t work because there’s war. India is not a place where diplomatic secrets are easily kept, and no British or Indian journalist or diplomat has ever mentioned Christopher Baker as being a player. The only interest he ignited was about his mistresses.
Presenter: All right, very briefly, now, Martin, because we’re running out of time, what is the atmosphere like in Bombay? We’ve had unconfirmed reports of mass panic in some areas.
Cartwright: The city centre itself is very much business as usual—
After that, the line went dead, but the tape was played over and over again; the explosion, the roaring air and then the silence were terribly and clearly audible – no more than five seconds of radio, painting a picture of sound for the first nuclear catastrophe of the twenty-first century.
Bombay/Mumbai, India
Local time: 1315 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0745 Tuesday 8 May 2007
The temperature was 36°C, the day was clear with visibility of more than twenty-five kilometres and a light wind blew in from the south at 8.33 k.p.h. It was one of the hottest days of the year and many workers had stayed inside their air-conditioned offices for lunch away from the heat and humidity.
Those outside who instinctively looked towards the flash had their eyes burnt out. The ones who survived – and not many did – were blinded with third-degree burns to their eyes. The breeze whipped up into erratic gales which flung pedestrians at more than 160 k.p.h. to their deaths. Within about 0.1 milliseconds after the explosion, the radius of the fireball was about 14 metres. The ground at the centre exploded with heat. Tiles, granite, glass within a radius of 1,500 metres melted. Fires leapt out of wherever there were flammable materials, so that just about every building was alight, even four or five kilometres from where the warhead went off, forcing millions out onto the streets. Their clothes burst into flames as well, and afterwards bodies were found with clothing patterns etched onto their skins. The first thought of most was to head for water and thousands sought refuge on the sweeping beach along Marine Drive, or Sasoon Dock near the Gateway of India. The explosion had set off tremors in the ground like an earthquake and the sea swelled angrily around like water in an unsteady bowl. The sand exploded like popcorn, burning their feet and driving them towards the water. As they swam out, the fires proved to be faster and stronger. The victims were eventually incinerated by leaping fireballs which seemed to bounce out to sea in all directions killing everything in their paths. One moment the beaches were filled with the sound of shouting and crying. The next they were quiet apart from the roars of conflicting winds created by the nuclear explosion. Then, people would appear again chasing sanctuary until the next fireball engulfed them.
The citizens of Bombay were being killed by three direct impacts from the explosion: blast or shock, thermal radiation and prompt nuclear radiation. On top of this, there were the effects of the electromagnetic pulse in which they felt as if they were being smashed in the back by a hammer, then immediately hurled into boiling water or an inferno. Thousands more were cut up and killed by flying glass and debris or in secondary explosions of cars, motor-scooters and domestic gas cylinders.
Within twenty minutes of the explosion a circle of three kilometres radius from the blast was ravaged by the same type of firestorms as ripped through Hamburg, Dresden and Tokyo following the incendiary attacks during the Second World War, and of course, through Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the nuclear attack. The temperatures were 300°, 400°, no one ever knew. Those who did not flee their buildings were suffocated with carbon monoxide poisoning and died where they hid.
The fires created a massive vortex which sucked in air from the areas around it, building up yet more unpredictable winds, drawing in oxygen to feed the inferno at speeds of up to 80 k.p.h. At that stage, no one could survive.
It was then, almost half an hour after the missile struck, that satellite pictures picked up the first formation of the mushroom cloud. As the winds brought in fresh oxygen, the heat was pushed upwards, taking with it vaporized debris which became lethal, highly radioactive dust. Water droplets from the sea also condensed around radioactive particles and hours later fell to earth again, many kilometres away, as black rain.
Whether the missile had been targeted on the Fort area so the radiation cloud would be blown north over the highly populated areas of the city would remain a moot point for years to come. The Chinese claimed the coordinates were 19° 02' N, 72° 56' E, the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC) at Trombay twenty kilometres north-east of the main Fort financial district. Two of the research heavy water reactors there, the Cirus 40 MW and the Dhruva 100 MW, produced plutonium at the rate of 30 kilograms a year, enough for up to five nuclear bombs. Therefore, argued the Chinese, the site was a legitimate military target.
The fact was that the single 15 kiloton warhead exploded 185 metres directly above Fort, at a lower altitude but with the same velocity as the American strike on Hiroshima. The BARC complex was put out of action and the prevailing winds blew the fallout due north over the most heavily populated areas of Bombay. Just about every building was destroyed from the west coast to the east coast, the Sea of Arabia to Harbour Bay and from the southern coastal point in Colaba north through Fort, through the Chatrapathi Shivaji Terminus to the shacks of the Mohatta Market. Hardly anyone escaped alive – and that was only in the first hour.
The population density in the most crowded areas of Bombay was as high as 40,000 people per square kilometre. Given that it was lunchtime on a working day, the number of people in Fort was at least that. No one ever came up with even a roughly accurate figure, but for the record, the Indian government put the number killed in the first hour of the explosion at 200,000.
Operational Directorate, South Block, Delhi, India
Local time: 1415 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0845 Tuesday 8 May 2007
‘We must retaliate,’ said Hari Dixit.
‘No,’ replied Unni Khrishnan, almost in a whisper. ‘We must stop. If they strike again we are condemning the lives of another million people.’
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Dixit shook his head: ‘And if we don’t we will lose India.’
‘I don’t care if your bloody government falls.’
‘Neither do I. But if we capitulate now, we will lose our status as a nation. Are the Agnis ready for launch?’
‘And if they target Delhi?’
‘We die,’ said Dixit.
‘Four mobile sites are prepared,’ said Khrishnan softly. ‘Enemy targets are the military headquarters in Chengdu, the Western Hills in Beijing, Zhongnanhai and Shanghai.’
‘We will not hit population centres.’
‘They have.’
‘We won’t.’
‘Then we lose.’
‘We’ve lost already,’ said the Indian Prime Minister.
‘Then stop,’ pleaded Khrishnan.
‘We can’t, Khrishnanji. Don’t you understand, India can’t surrender now.’
The Situation Room, The White House, Washington, DC
Local time: 0345 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0845 Tuesday 8 May 2007
‘The whole of central Bombay is flattened,’ said Tom Bloodworth. ‘We’re picking up the formation of a mushroom cloud. There are reports of black rain falling on the Tulsi Lake in the national park to the north of the city.’
John Hastings stood upright in the centre of the room, looking at the satellite imagery being translated into impact data on the map of Bombay.
‘Reece Overhalt calling from Jamie Song’s office,’ said Joan Holden.
‘President Tao gave the order for only one launch,’ said Overhalt. ‘He does not want to strike again.’
Bloodworth, on another phone, interrupted the President’s conversation. ‘Mr President, Hari Dixit is retaliating.’
‘For Christ’s sake tell him China’s calling it a day,’ yelled Hastings.
‘That’s not the point,’ said Bloodworth.
‘The Chinese are calling an emergency UN Security Council meeting,’ Overhalt said to Hastings.
‘Cynical bastards.’
‘Two Agni launches from north-east India,’ said Bloodworth.
‘Get that shit Gorbunov on the phone,’ snapped Hastings.
Military Headquarters, Western Hills, China
Local time: 1730 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0930 Tuesday 8 May 2007
‘Nuclear air-burst over Chengdu?’ said General Leung. ‘Where, exactly?’
‘Unclear. We have lost contact.’
President Tao remained silent. He sat in an office chair, his chin in his hands, staring at the huge map in the war room. Hari Dixit had more nerve than he had anticipated. If India and China slugged it out city for city, India would lose eventually, but China would not be an outright winner. The progress of the last quarter of a century would be wrecked, and the Motherland’s standing in the international community would be in tatters. Yet if Tao stopped now, China would be a defeated nation. He pushed the chair back, stood up and walked over to the wall map, his shadow moving across it like a storm cloud.
The Kremlin, Moscow, Russia
Local time: 1230 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0930 Tuesday 8 May 2007
‘Are you threatening me?’ said President Gorbunov. He had taken the call from John Hastings, without interpreters or even his private secretary taking notes.
‘I will repeat myself, Mr President,’ said Hastings. ‘You have five minutes to get an unequivocal ceasefire from both India and China. If you fail, we are going to obliterate China’s military capabilities with nuclear and conventional weapons. If you threaten to strike the United States or Europe we will strike Russia. Your office will be ground zero. This is not a threat, Mr President, it is reality.’
‘You are at risk of creating an even more dangerous situation.’
‘I did not call you for a debate in international relations. I called to tell you what is going to happen.’
‘And if I comply?’
‘No one need know this conversation ever took place.’
Operational Directorate, South Block, Delhi, India
Local time: 1510 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0940 Tuesday 8 May 2007
‘They’ve launched from Tibet,’ said Unni Khrishnan. ‘We should head for the bunker.’
‘No,’ said Hari Dixit. ‘If the people of Delhi are to die in a nuclear attack, this captain is going to stay on the bridge.’
‘President Gorbunov calling from Moscow,’ said Khrishnan’s aide de camp.
‘Tao has called a ceasefire,’ began Gorbunov.
‘He’s just launched,’ said Dixit.
‘Six minutes to impact,’ said Unni Khrishnan.
‘You have my word that China will carry out no more attacks.’
‘Can they destroy the missile, mid-flight?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Listen, Vlad, within five minutes we could be vapourized. I don’t regard it as a ceasefire. It’s the act of high cynicism.’
‘Agni ready for launch, Prime Minister,’ said Unni Khrishnan.
Hari Dixit cut the line to Moscow: ‘Go ahead,’ he said.
Ground zero was between the North Block and the South Block. The fireball swept through the elegant buildings of pink Rajasthan sandstone, which collapsed into molten rubble incinerating everyone inside. The magnificent architectural buildings of Indian democracy were destroyed within seconds of the blast; India Gate, the Parliament Building, the National Archives, the Supreme Court, then further out with temperatures still almost a million degrees, the path of destruction hitting Connaught Place, Janpath, and other landmarks of India’s heritage. The glass walls on the newer buildings shattered immediately, with people and furniture instantaneously hurled outside. Then, like in Bombay, the firestorms reached the flimsier structures, the more densely crowded parts of the city, where people died in their tens of thousands.
Even ten miles away in places like Vasant, Vihar and Janakpuri, everyone outside was struck with severe burns and houses spontaneously caught light, causing unstoppable fires to rage through the slums killing those inside. Within the three kilometre radius of ground zero, nothing survived. The men in charge of the government of India were dead. The institutions which ran the country were out of action.
The Situation Room, The White House, Washington, DC
Local time: 0530 Tuesday 8 May 2007
GMT: 1030 Tuesday 8 May 2007
‘Dixit targeted the Western Hills before he died,’ said Tom Bloodworth. ‘It must have been a 250 kiloton warhead to make the range.’
‘Did it hit?’
‘Yes, but the Chinese bunker is too well dug in. The only casualties are the villagers, fruit orchards and a few army barracks. There’s a strong westerly wind. In nuclear terms the damage is minimal. We’ve just picked up new signals from the bunker, so their backup communications system must have kicked in.’
Hastings sat heavily in a chair, allowing the exhaustion to show for the first time in forty-eight hours. ‘Hari Dixit refused to go for the civilian targets, didn’t he?’
Bloodworth pointed to one of the computer screens. ‘These are the latest satellite pictures from India. This is Delhi.’ He changed the picture. ‘This is Calcutta. Then Bangalore, Madras. It’s going on everywhere.’
Even though ill-defined, the images showed streams of people fleeing the population centres of India. The main roads were too clogged with human life to take cars, carts or even motor-scooters. Vehicles were abandoned, as were possessions which hindered escape. The nuclear holocaust had instilled terror throughout the country.
‘What about China?’ said Hastings.
‘There’s cloud over Chengdu. So we don’t know what’s happening there. Tao has closed down all telecommunications. Even mobile phones. The television is showing a sitcom.’ He brought up an overhead scene. ‘This is Tiananmen Square, Beijing. The signs say it is closed for redecoration. This is the main road south. Traffic moving as normal. It’s the same for Shanghai, Wuhan, Harbin. You name it, th
e Chinese are controlling it.’
‘They’ve won, haven’t they, Tom?’
‘Won through their own brutality.’
‘Damn right, they have,’ said Hastings. ‘They’ve won because they had nuclear weapons and they used them ruthlessly – just like we did in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.’
EPILOGUE
With medical and public services collapsed, the twenty million people affected by the nuclear attack in India were mostly left to fend for themselves. International agencies came in where they could, but the task was simply too enormous. The few not killed in the immediate explosion died of burns and infection over the following few days. Those who survived longer began to break out with illnesses. The symptoms were nausea, vomiting and loss of appetite; diarrhoea with blood; high fever; bleeding into the skin resulting in welts; ulceration of the mouth; bleeding from the gums, the rectum and the urinary tract; loss of hair and general weakness until death. The statistics were still being compiled when this report was written, but it was estimated that 60 per cent of the deaths were from burns and the blast itself, 20 per cent from radiation sickness and another 20 per cent from related injuries and illnesses. Many in this last category were the very young or very old. Scientists estimated that the radiation in the worst areas measured almost 500 rads an hour and that anything above 400 rads an hour (over a three-hour period) would kill at least half the people exposed to it. Given that most had no means of escape, many more than the specified 50 per cent would have died from it. A year later eight hundred thousand people were estimated to have died because of the attack.
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