The Army holds Siachen because its altitude denies the enemy the high ground, making any conflict there a brutal but necessary tax on our bodies and budget. At 5400 meters, hypoxia starves the brain, frostbite claims limbs, and chronic insomnia unravels even the toughest minds. What comes down with the ice into Nubra is not just sediment, but the ghosts of those we’ve lost—along with spent artillery shells and the glacial till of our national resolve. I know this cost in IV drips and missing fingers, from treating soldiers sent back to my hospital in Tamil Nadu, their bodies broken by the ice long before any bullet could find them.
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