Kiran Asim
On June 28, 2025, a devastating terrorist attack in Mir Ali, North Waziristan, claimed the lives of thirteen courageous soldiers of the Pakistan Army. These young men were not just soldiers in uniform—they were brothers, sons, husbands—who made the ultimate sacrifice in the defense of their homeland.
Their martyrdom was not in vain. It was for the survival of the nation, a painful yet powerful reminder that peace is never free. Every martyr of this army is a jewel on the nation’s forehead.
“The death of a martyr is the life of a nation. The blood of the martyr is the alms of this nation.”
In the ensuing operation, 27 terrorists—identified as members of the extremist Khawarij faction—were killed. Yet the tragedy runs deeper. Alongside the military casualties, several civilians, including women and children, were also injured by the massive blast from a vehicle carrying 800 kilograms of explosives. This wasn’t the first time the enemy struck from within. And perhaps, it won’t be the last—unless we face a hard truth:
“This war is no longer fought on borders alone. It festers inside our streets, our homes, and perhaps, within our silence.”
Security agencies have repeatedly shared evidence of local facilitation:
Where was this deadly vehicle assembled?
In whose garage was it stored overnight?
Who allowed it to reach a public road by 7 AM?
How do such attacks frequently originate from mosques, homes, and markets?
Let us ask ourselves: Could this be possible without the help of locals?
Intelligence reports confirm that multiple houses in Mir Ali are used by militants to hide, regroup, and strike. These terrorists exploit women and children as human shields, knowing full well that Pakistan’s armed forces will never fire upon innocents.
When soldiers return fire after being attacked from a house:
“Our homes are under fire!” is the outcry.
But no one says: “That’s where the bullets came from.”
No one says: “That’s where the terrorists ran back to.”
This is not a one-off case. Similar patterns were witnessed in Tirah Valley, Maidan, Malik Deenkhel, and Nakhtar Adirah, where terrorists used homes to launch attacks, caught clearly in video evidence. And yet, when security forces ask for homes to be evacuated, the response is:
“This is injustice!”
But we should ask ourselves:
Is it not oppression to shelter enemies of the state in our homes?
Is it not cruelty to use women and children to cover cowardly attacks?
Is it not betrayal when communities stay silent while terrorists butcher peace?
The Khawarij have stolen our soil, our safety, and our children’s future.
These militants do not represent Islam—they defile it. They kill in its name while destroying every value it stands for. And yet, the real tragedy is that certain political groups defend their actions. Every day, soldiers are martyred in Waziristan—in numbers greater than those lost in open war with India. Yet, not once have groups like the Pashtun Tahafuz Movement (PTM) mourned these heroes. Not once have they asked: “Why are these soldiers being martyred?”
But when the army retaliates, when it strikes the killers—they scream injustice, waving slogans that claim ethnic victimhood. They twist facts to malign the military and silence the suffering of martyrs’ families.
It is time we speak clearly:
Before eliminating the terrorists, we must expose and disarm the political enablers who provide them cover. Only then will true peace be possible in Waziristan.
“This is not just the army’s war. This is our war.
Every patriotic Pakistani’s war.”
To remain silent now is to be complicit. These soldiers did not die so that we could live in denial. Their blood demands truth, justice, and national unity.
Let this article be a call:
To honor the fallen, not only in words but in action.
To identify and root out the local facilitators who betray the nation.
To demand accountability from political factions that shield the enemies of peace.
“Their martyrdom is our responsibility.
Their blood is our duty.
And their legacy must be our strength.”
