"Ladies and gentlemen," Walter Arnold began. "You have before you a document which has been compiled by White House and State Department staffers and revised by Thurmon and myself. It deals with our possible options amid the very serious situation between Israel and the Arab nations." He glanced at the SC representatives in attendance, some of whom disagreed with the administration's neutralist Middle East policy. But Arnold had learned that he couldn't please everyone-nobody possibly could. Then, addressing the conferees in general, he said, "I earnestly solicit your comments and suggestions. Take your time. I've set aside the rest of the afternoon."
After several minutes of reading, most cabinet members put down the four-page appraisal and waited for others to speak. A couple of individuals, however, quickly penned notes to themselves. At length Secretary of Defense Ben Wake spoke up.
"Mr. President, my opinion has not changed significantly since discussing this with Thurmon last month." The two secretaries, never intimates, regarded one another cautiously. "I'm in full agreement with this thinking as far as it goes," Wake continued. "I share your opinion that we should not commit ourselves to a course of action which probably would earn further enmity from the Muslim world. Toward that end, an even-handed, neutral approach makes sense.
"However," the Secretary of Defense persisted, "I think we must have a clearer idea of our possible military posture in the region in the event of hostilities. This paper only provides for recall of nonessential diplomatic personnel from combatant nations and contingency plans for a crisis evacuation by air or sealift."
Arnold, though a strong advocate of the position paper, played moderator at most cabinet meetings. He threw the challenge to the Secretary of State for comment. ''Thurmon? Your thoughts."
Thurmon Wilson leaned forward to look down the table at Wake.
"Ben, there's more to it than that. Right there on page one, we state that rules of engagement now standing will remain in effect. Our people in the area are fully permitted to defend themselves. My God, your people and the Joint Chiefs have agreed we shouldn't jump in militarily but we have the right to a presence. So what's your objection?"
Wake waved a placating hand. "Yes, yes. I note that feature in the second paragraph. But as I said before, we can't simply wander into this thing with optimism and good intentions. We have ships in the Mediterranean and North Arabian Sea. We have Air Force units flying in and out of many of these places. And, I hasten to add, we have some U. S. citizens still under contract to the Saudi government in what amounts to a combat role. Now, I recognize the benefits of maintaining a regional presence and of keeping communications open through all possible avenues. But do we really want our people in a position to get shot at? Another Stark or Vincennes incident is a very real possibility. The domestic reaction alone could be… well, decisive."
Everyone knew what the Secretary of Defense meant. The election was a month off.
"All right," the president responded. "Ben's framed the big question. Do we pull our forces out of the region in deference to the political situation here? Or do we stay put, maintain a presence, and risk the possibility of getting involved in the shooting? It's no easy choice, and there are advantages and disadvantages to each in this evaluation." He flipped the paper.
"Mr. President." Secretary of Commerce Lawrence Janowitz spoke up. He was a short, stocky financier in his mid-fifties, an old political crony of Arnold's who could be counted upon to speak his mind.
"Yes, Larry."
"I don't like the idea of being seen as running for cover when trouble brews up. We might invite problems for ourselves by pulling out as well as by staying in the Middle East."
"That's exactly my point, Larry." Wake' voice was slightly higher than normal, his words nearly colliding with each other. "We need a clear-cut policy stated up front, before we have to choose from any number of possible actions. We need a starting point, that's all I'm saying."
"Well, how about a compromise starting point?" Janowitz replied. "Reduce our naval and air forces in the area to those levels. necessary to remind the locals that we can get involved if necessary-even though we don't plan to. At the same time we would be limiting the possible exposure of American servicemen to hostile action, but we're close enough to meet the evacuation criteria listed in the paper."
The president suppressed a smile. Trust Larry to find a bargaining stance that would appeal to both sides. Arnold glanced around. "Comments, anyone?" He looked directly at Wake.
"Yes, that's all right with me. But with reduced force levels in-theater our mutual support will be degraded. I would urge that we pull our people well back, beyond the likely range of hostile action-even by accident. At least that way we'll avoid most chances for mishap. As Larry says, we can jump in with strategic airlift or carrier aviation on very short notice, if need be."
"Sounds good." Arnold was pleased that a consensus was emerging.
"One other thing, though," Wake interjected. "We can't pull back our people in the Saudi F-20 squadrons like we can move our own ships and aircraft. Has there been any idea of what to do about those fliers still under contract?"
Arnold and Wilson exchanged a quick look. The president said, "Thurmon and I have discussed this matter. It's a ticklish point. The Saudi foreign minister has made it plain to State that he wants the U. S. and British advisers in this capacity to remain. Thurmon and I agree that to withdraw them would risk our current relationship with Riyadh, which remains fairly good. At least, it's the best contact we have with any Arab nation right now.
"Very well," the president continued. "We'll discuss particulars about ship and aircraft dispositions tomorrow with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Let's move on to the next item…. "
PART IV
And the stern joy that warriors feel in foemen worthy of their steel.
Sir Walter Scott. ''The Lady of the Lake". Canto V
Chapter 13
DAY ONE: 9 OCTOBER
Golan Heights, 0325 Hours
The jihad against Israel began in the predawn. And it was led not by Soviet T-72 tanks or supersonic MiGs, but by a twenty-three-year-old Iranian zealot named Omar Razlavi.
Omar was legendary to the crusaders engaged in the holy war.
He had come to prominence midway through the hard-fought bitter war with Iraq when, as a teenager recruited to fill the Ayatollah's ranks, he found his niche in life. At five feet five and 118 pounds, the boy was ideally suited to wriggling through barbed-wire entanglements, probing for enemy mines. The life expectancy of sappers often was measured in hours-sometimes in minutes-but Omar Razlavi thrived. He outlived his comrades by orders of magnitude until finally his division, which suffered 120 percent casualties in his first eight months-was renamed in his honor.
Moving out from his sandbagged trench south of Mount Hermon, Razlavi was armed with a plastic knife to probe for mines and a knapsack of fifty white-flagged stakes to mark them. Scrambling across the ground on all fours, ferretlike in his agility, the youngster felt completely at home. He had been doing this work for years and accepted as an article of faith that he was immortal. A grimy headband with a religious slogan testified to his devotion.
The Razlavi Division had moved into place east of Al-Kuneitra during darkness over the previous several nights, relieving the Syrian unit which usually held that portion of the front. It was considered a signal honor to lead the assault on the Golan, but the Razlavi Division expected no less. Most of the Iranian soldiers awaiting the jump-off signal fully expected to die in the next several hours; their imams had told them as much. But the Muslim priests also had promised that paradise awaited.
With infinite calm, Omar Razlavi probed the earth before him.
His plastic knife, unable to detonate a magnetic mine, struck something solid. The metal outline of instant death. It was a sensation Razlavi had experienced thousands of times. He had long since lost count of how many Soviet, French, American, and Israeli-manufactured mines he had located. He inserted a wooden
stake with its white cloth next to the mine and continued forward, probing as he crept along. Behind him, his platoon leader watched through night-vision glasses, noting the path to follow as the hour of attack approached.
* * *
Nearly 500 meters to the west, another set of night goggles was in use. The Israeli sergeant carefully scanned left and right, taking in the green-tinted imagery of the Litton glasses. Catching a movement, he swung on the location and stabilized the device. After what seemed an interminable wait, the motion repeated itself. There… emerging from behind a discarded spool of barbed wire. The human form edged along the ground with surprising economy of motion.
Picking up his field phone, the sergeant called his command post. The sleepy young lieutenant who answered was mildly upset at being disturbed. He listened to the NCO's professionally terse report and consulted the area's topographical chart on the wall. With a routine phrase, the officer ordered the sergeant to take routine measures. These probes had gone on before, but now there was a way to halt them.
In eight minutes Omar Razlavi had reached the position shown on the lieutenant's map. The noncom opened the access to an electrical panel, flipped a switch, and the circuit closed.
Omar Razlavi's frail body was hurled into the air by the force of the explosion. The garish splotch of light ripped the night air and the Iranian platoon leader instinctively reeled away from his glass. The white light of the explosion strobed in the scope, temporarily ruining his night vision.
He knew that, at long last, Omar sat at the right hand of Allah. From the Al Biqa-the Bekaa Valley-which runs a hundred miles along the Syrian-Lebanese border-south to Mt. Hebron in the Golan, and on to Jordan, Araby massed its legions. Some thirty divisions of infantry, mechanized, and armored formations-plus supporting air, artillery, and special forces-were poised to strike. Including logistics troops, nearly two million men were engaged in the enterprise which began with crushing, single-minded violence.
Ninety minutes before dawn the Arab army began to move. It rolled forward behind a shattering barrage of artillery, rockets, and low-flying helicopter gunships. And though the Israelis were not caught by surprise this October, the strength and volume of the offensive destroyed any lingering sense of smugness in Tel Aviv. The hard-eyed men in Damascus, Baghdad, and Tehran had worked more than three years for this moment, and they had chosen their time carefully.
With more contempt than concern, the Muslim leaders had assessed the American government's reaction would be determined by a desire for neutrality. To back either side would invite severe criticism from the other-and harsher considerations from the Arab world. Thus, the most attractive course would be the middle road. Imams and generals alike agreed that the president's cherished role as mediator would work to their benefit. And they would be proven right.
Washington issued declarations of concern, repeating the oft-quoted offer to serve as "the lightning rod of reconciliation," in Walter Arnold's own words. But nobody on either side expressed an interest in arbitration. This was a fight to the finish, pure and simple.
Balhama Air Base, 0600 Hours
"Well, boys, we're in it now." Colonel Solomon Yatanahu addressed his grim-faced F-15 pilots in the auditorium. "We'll give you all the support we possibly can. Our maintenance and ordnance crews have shaved every possible second off your turnaround times. We should be able to generate maximum sortie rates as long as fuel, spare parts, and weapons hold out." Yatanahu did not need to mention that all three items soon could be in short supply. If this war went beyond the second week without resupply, Israel would be in very poor shape.
Upon concluding the briefing, the base commander returned to his office. Inwardly he was furious at the government's obstinacy.
Yatanahu had railed his frustration time and again, most often to his wife. "The idiots! All they care about is where they stand in the opinion polls. They've spread us throughout most of Jordan, where we haven't a hope of holding that much territory, and once war comes we'll be forced to withdraw to shorter lines." He had known he would be proven correct; now one look at the map showed the situation. A two-pronged Arab assault down the road from Damascus to Jerusalem and from the Iraqi border toward the holy city could cut off thousands of Israeli troops.
Yatanahu sat down at his desk and called for his aide, Lieutenant Yoni Ben-Nun. "Yoni, we're going to have our hands full. Set up a cot for me in the rear office. Then collect the signals from Air Force HQ. We're likely to be concentrating on the Bekaa at first, but if the Saudis and Egyptians jump in, we'll be spread awfully thin. I want constant updates on all enemy forces-especially the northern F-20 squadrons."
Ha’il, 1810 Hours.
John Bennett wandered alone outside the Tiger Force advanced headquarters. He enjoyed the solitude of the desert night, picking out constellations in the crystal-clear air. For most of his flying career he had seen the stars as they really were, viewed from above 30,000 feet. Beyond the natural haze and man-made pollution which covered so much of the earth, they represented a reassuring constant in his life.
Walking a hundred yards from the half-buried command center, Bennett sat down and wrapped his arms around his knees. He mused to himself that never would he have believed he would come to this place in this capacity.
I'm an aerial warlord in charge of ten squadrons of eager young Arabs who soon may become actively engaged in a holy war against Israel. How did that happen? What set of circumstances conspired to bring me to this situation? What god of irony gave me Claudia at this time in my life, then took her from me and committed me to a war against her historic people?
Bennett recognized the onset of a melancholy mood which he seldom allowed. He concentrated on facts, not conjecture.
Face it, Bennett. You wanted this, you worked for it, and you cherished it. No, it wasn't luck or circumstance that brought you here.
Be careful what you want. It might come true.
All his professional life Bennett had heard the catchphrase, "I'd rather be lucky than good." But he had never believed it. Instead, he was convinced that you made your own luck most of the time. What others attributed to fortune, Bennett believed was 90 percent hard work.
Well, old Pirate, that may be true upstairs. But how to reconcile hard work with finding the right woman? You've been lucky-if that's the right word-twice in your life. You found two good women over twenty years apart. They both gave you happiness and they're both gone. You've come out ahead, John. Finding happiness once in a lifetime is rare enough. Twice hardly seems possible. But nobody promised it would last.
He leaned his head on his arms and breathed deeply. The desert air felt good in his lungs. Then he said one word to the night.
"Claudia…"
Later that evening General Mohammad Abd Maila gave a briefing to Tiger Force at Ha'il. Brad Williamson and Geoff Hampton already were there with Red and White Squadrons. The Arab commanders or executive officers of each of the other F-20 units attended, including delegates from the two Jordanian squadrons. Maintenance, communications, and ordnance supervisors also sat in.
Bennett was pleased that Maila had been chosen as liaison between the Royal Saudi Air Force and Tiger Force. The American and the Arab had developed a close professional relationship over the past few years, for temperamentally they had much in common. A former F-5 pilot, Maila had completed two advanced courses in the United States during his career, which qualified him for higher pay and the attendant prestige. However, he seemed unaffected by his elevated status, remaining wholly mission-oriented. He was, Bennett thought, a true warrior.
"Gentlemen," Maila began in British-accented English, "I am here to answer some of the questions you must be asking. And I want to set a brief picture of what you may expect in the coming days.
"As you know, His Majesty has made good his commitment to see Jordan returned to its rightful owners and to the Arab alliance goal of securing the West Bank for permanent Palestinian settlement. By stating these limited goals at
the beginning of hostilities, we hope to ease global concern and strengthen our case.
"The Saudi government does not seek the destruction of Israel. It has been made plain that our armed forces will not participate in activities aimed at occupying Israeli soil, and that was a precondition of His Majesty's commitment to the alliance. Under these carefully defined circumstances, our goal is beyond question."
Turning to the map behind him, the general said, "The Egyptians are moving armored and mechanized infantry forces eastward in the Sinai. At present this is to force the Israelis to commit troops to defend this front, thus preventing their employment elsewhere.
"We have a similar role here in Arabia. The difference is, we shall use our air arm to accomplish the same purpose. Colonel Bennett and his staff devised a contingency plan long ago, when the F-20 force was being organized. Colonel, please proceed."
Bennett walked to the front of the room. Without consulting the notes in his pocket, he began his presentation. It had been imprinted in his mind for three years.
"Many of you have heard us discuss portions of what we call the fadeaway plan. It is based upon two principles: goading the opposition and economy of force.
''The Israelis have run recon flights over several of our forward fields, and they attacked four of them, as you well know. Two bases were badly damaged but now are back to a limited operational status. The timing of the raids indicated that the Israelis were confident that hostilities would very soon occur. They didn't want to have to deal with their southern flank at the same time as the main threat out of Syria and Lebanon.
"So the object is to give them a reason to come after us. Just running counter-air operations against our northern fields is well within their current capacity, and all we would accomplish is about a one-to-one exchange rate. That means attrition warfare, grinding them down a bit at a time. It could work over a prolonged period-assuming they had little or no resupply. But to accomplish our goal, it has to be done at a condensed period in time and space."
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