August could not help but feel sorry for her. Her two comrades looked even worse. Their noses were raw and bleeding and they would probably lose their ears to frostbite. Their gloves were so thick with ice that August did not even think they could move their fingers.

Looking at them, the colonel realized that Sharab and her countrymen were not going to fight them or run anywhere.

August leaned close to them.

"General Rodgers and Nanda completed their mission," August said.

Sharab was staring ahead. Her red eyes began to tear. Her exposed mouth moved silently. In prayer, August suspected.

The other men hugged her arms weakly and also spoke silent words.

"An Indian helicopter will arrive at sunup," August went on.

"Corporal Musicant will be leaving on it. I'm going to make my way back to the valley to find the rest of my team.

What do you want to do?"

Sharab turned her tearing eyes toward August. There was deep despair in her gaze. Her voice was gravelly and tremulous when she spoke.

"Will America… help us… to make the case… for a Pakistani Kashmir?" she asked.

"I think things will change because of what happened over the last few days," August admitted.

"But I don't know what my nation will say or do."

Sharab laid an icy glove on August's forearm.

"Will… you help us?" she pressed.

"They… killed… your team."

"The madness between your countries killed my team," August said.

"No," she said. She gestured violently toward the edge of the plateau.

"The men… down there… killed them. They are godless… evil."

This was not a discussion August wanted to have. Not with someone who blew up public buildings and peace officers for a living.

"Sharab, I've worked with you to this point," August said.

"I can't do any more. There will be a trial and hearings. If you surrender, you will have the opportunity to make a strong case for your people."

"That will not… help," she insisted.

"It will be a start," August countered.

"And if… we go back… down the mountain?" the woman asked.

"What will you do?"

"I guess I'll say good-bye," he replied.

"You won't try… to stop us?" Sharab pressed.

"No," August assured her.

"Excuse me, now. I'm going back to join the rest of my unit."

August looked at the defiant Pakistani for a moment longer. The woman's hate and rage were burning through the cold and physical exhaustion. He had seen determined fighters during his life. The Vietcong. Kurdish resistance fighters.

People who were fighting for their homes and families. But this furnace was a terrifying thing to witness.

Colonel August turned and walked back across the slippery, windswept ridge. Tribunals would be a good start. But it would take more than that to eradicate what existed between the Indians and the Pakistanis.