reconnoitering the terrain above to prepare for
this decisive moment.
A few men suggested they rope up for safety.
“If you rope up, if one of us is hit, then all of us
go down,” Bilal told them. “Wear crampons but
no ropes.” They made a final check to make sure
the moving parts on their weapons hadn’t frozen.
And then, just before dusk, with howling wind at
their backs, Bilal led the team single file as they
climbed up a corniced ridge toward the summit.
Suddenly the dark, sunburned faces of two
Indian sentries peered down from a wall of snow
built in a makeshift observation post. Bilal called
out to them in Urdu, “You are surrounded by sol-
diers of the Pakistan Army. Lay down your arms.”
The two Indians ducked down behind the
snow wall. Bilal continued, “The Indian Army
is going to get you killed by sending you here!”
Then he heard the distinctive, two-click cadence
of AK-47s cocking.
“We weren’t wanton killers,” Bilal says three
decades later, recounting the story in his home in
Rawalpindi. “We just wanted to preserve our own
territory. We would defend it at all costs ... that was
our patriotic duty.” He is certain the Indians fired
first. Bilal and his men returned fire. The crack of
the shots was dampened by the snow and the thin
air, and one of the Indians went down.
The Pakistanis stopped firing, and Bilal called
to the other Indian. “Leave this place ... We’re not
going to take you prisoner, and we won’t shoot
you in the back.” The Indian soldier stood up,A LINE IN THE MOUNTAINS 101