by Bob Woodward
Economic embargoes historically haven’t worked, Richard G. Darman, the budget director, said. The international trade system does not respond to declarations of embargo or the closing of borders, he added. The market responds to price, and in an embargo, the price goes up and the incentive to violate the embargo increases.
Right, the President said. Iraq would just find a new middleman. Where there was a buck to be made, someone would buy and sell the oil, Bush said. “Like my Texas friends.”
It was important to keep the moderate Arabs out in front during this crisis, Kimmitt remarked.
Darman said he thought their objectives were unclear. Given what Schwarzkopf had presented, the invasion of Kuwait was accomplished and he didn’t see how it was possible to eliminate Iraqi oil from the market.
“What do you mean?” Bush asked.
It was not clear to Darman if Bush was referring to his comment on accepting the invasion of Kuwait, or on the possibility of keeping the oil off the market.
Darman replied to the President on the oil market issue. He said that an embargo needed an enforcement mechanism. He knew this implied a military operation, such as using the Navy for a blockade, a bigger step, perhaps, than the President wanted to take.
“But we just can’t accept what’s happened in Kuwait just because it’s too hard to do anything about it,” Bush said. He did not indicate that he was eager to use the military for that, or for any purpose.
Cutting the pipelines would have an economic impact, Darman said, but that would have to be done early.
Powell felt that everything was being left up in the air. He posed a question: “Don’t we want just to draw a firm line with Saudi Arabia?” That country was the real U.S. interest.
Pickering remarked that such a firm line would leave Kuwait on the other side, in the hands of Iraq.
The meeting ended on this very inconclusive note.
• • •
Boyden Gray left feeling that the military now had a real opportunity. It seemed to him that Bush was certainly going to do something. Over the years, Gray had seen Bush charged up many times—in some respects it was a natural state for him—but rarely this much. The slower, matter-of-fact atmosphere of the night before, the mood that had prevailed at the executive order drafting session, was gone. Bush was now betraying the traits of a cornered man. But Gray thought this was when the President was at his best, as he was in a tennis match when he was down 4 to 1 in the final set.
Darman thought the situation was pathetic. Given the vital U.S. interests in the region and Saddam’s past aggressions, it was just short of dereliction that U.S. intelligence hadn’t had a clue this was going to happen and that the military didn’t have an adequate and updated contingency plan. Seeing the Army-green uniforms of Powell and Schwarzkopf, Darman was concerned that the military would want to put troops on the ground in the Middle East. That could lead to another Vietnam, he feared.
Paul Wolfowitz, who had watched and listened from the sidelines, worried that they might talk themselves into paralysis. There was a terrible circularity to the situation: the administration could not do anything without Arab support; they were not going to get Arab support; therefore nothing could be done.
Powell had watched Bush carefully, and he did not think it was at all clear what the President was going to do or whether he would accept the loss of Kuwait. He knew that Bush was flying off to Aspen, Colorado, to give a speech later that day and meet with British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. She would no doubt have strong opinions and a strong influence on Bush.
Cheney was also puzzled about what Bush might do. The Secretary felt a little unprepared. He didn’t have any practical military options to lay before the President.
Scowcroft was alarmed. Iraq was a major threat to the vital interests of the United States. This went back to the Carter Doctrine of 1980, when President Carter had said in his State of the Union address that “an attempt by any outside force to gain control of the Persian Gulf region will be regarded as an assault on the vital interests of the United States of America. And such an assault will be repelled by any means necessary, including military force.” Saddam was no less hostile or threatening than any outsider. The principle seemed to apply.
The national security adviser saw another, larger principle at stake. The Vietnam Syndrome was alive and well—the military didn’t want to use force unless everyone approved. Cap Weinberger’s six conditions for the use of military force epitomized this paralysis. Weinberger’s conditions virtually required a national referendum before force could be employed. Waging war was impossible without a galvanizing event such as Pearl Harbor, or a moral or emotional crusade.
Scowcroft believed the United States could choke on such strictures. For Scowcroft, war was an instrument of foreign policy, pure and simple. President Bush had demonstrated this in Panama. The administration had not gone out and taken a vote or attempted to drum up support. Instead, Bush had used his authority as commander-in-chief of the armed forces. The public and congressional support had then followed.
After the meeting, Scowcroft went back to the Oval Office with the President.
Though Sununu, Darman and some of the others had expressed their concern about the economic consequences of the invasion, Scowcroft indicated to the President that the meeting had seemed to miss the point about the larger foreign-policy questions.
Mr. President, Scowcroft said, I think you and I are the only ones who really are exercised about this.
Before completing their discussion, they had to rush off to Aspen, Colorado, for Bush’s speech. Before they left, however, the President had a private meeting with his counsel, Boyden Gray. Bush wanted to be sure about his legal authority to deploy or use military airpower—Tier One options.
• • •
Cheney and Powell had to dash up to the Hill to brief Sam Nunn, Les Aspin and six other senior members of defense-related committees, on the “force of the future” and the Pentagon’s plan to reduce the size of the military by 25 percent in the next five years. It was built around Powell’s concept of a “base force” below which the United States could not safely go. Getting the chiefs to go along had been like fitting a size-ten foot into a size-eight shoe, Powell felt. But he had prevailed.
It seemed ironic to Cheney that the invasion and the briefing had come together in a single morning. He told the legislators the United States no longer needed to prepare for global conflict on short warning. Now the imperative was to deal with regional contingencies, and here was one—Saddam’s invasion of Kuwait. The congressional leaders seemed to like the new idea for the force of the future and expressed approval. But most of their questions were about the invasion.
In the afternoon at another press conference in Colorado, Bush shifted some ground from the early morning: “We’re not ruling any options in, but we’re not ruling any options out.”
Two hours later, Bush talked with King Fahd of Saudi Arabia. From his service as the U.N. ambassador and CIA director, Bush had good relations with the monarchs in the Middle East—the “friendly royals,” as they were often called in the CIA. He and Fahd both knew they could pick up the phone to talk.
The immensely wealthy Fahd, 69, was known as a super-cautious, tentatively pro-Western monarch who tended to pursue his foreign-policy goals through financial diplomacy—in short, payoffs. The two spoke for nearly half an hour. Fahd had lots of questions about what the United States thought Saddam was planning and what Bush could do to help the Saudis. They agreed that the attack on Kuwait was unacceptable, but did not settle on a course of action.
Returning to Washington on Air Force One, Bush also spoke with King Hussein of Jordan and President Mubarak of Egypt, who were together meeting in Alexandria. The two Middle East leaders passed the phone back and forth as each spoke with Bush. Their message was, give us more time and let the Arabs try to handle this.
• • •
Pete Williams wanted more information and
knew that the Joint Staff—the “J-boys,” as he often referred to them—would be the best immediate source. There was always something there—a plan or an analysis or someone who had spent his life on the problem. It was just a matter of working his way through the bureaucratic labyrinth. He went down to General Kelly’s office that afternoon. He usually found that Kelly had a way of getting in your face and making it clear he was the man with the stars on his shoulders. His pronouncements were delivered as matters of fact.
General Kelly was pessimistic. “There’s nothing we can do,” he said. With no heavy ground forces—tank divisions—in the area, there was no effective way to meet Saddam’s thrust. Kelly said that the military did not want to get involved in a land war in Southwest Asia, thank you anyway.
“We hope you political types aren’t dreaming,” Kelly added. “This isn’t going to be Panama. . . . If we’re thinking of taking on the Iraqis in any way, I want to voice a note of caution.” Frontal tank warfare was a “big nasty thing,” said Kelly, who had spent much of his career as a tank commander. “We can’t have a land war.”
• • •
Cheney had been scheduled to go to Colorado with Bush that afternoon, but he had canceled. Instead, he called a meeting in his office of his top civilian and military advisers. About 15 people gathered, an unusually large meeting for Cheney, who liked small groups of two, three or four.
General Kelly started out. Here is the story of how Iraq took Kuwait, he said. Kelly’s tone of voice reflected his professional admiration for the rapid, precise, massive and technically brilliant Iraqi operation.
Okay guys, Cheney said, what do we do?
Powell told him the chiefs and Schwarzkopf were working on options.
Cheney seemed incredulous there were so few options.
It’s hard, Powell said. They were dealing with a huge, instant invasion that was now over and complete. Saddam’s initial mission was accomplished.
There was a growing tension in the crowded office.
“I need some options I can show the President,” Cheney said.
Powell reiterated that they were working on it. Both he and Kelly wanted it made clear they were not going to come up with some half-baked proposals. Powell didn’t want the U.S. military to deliver a few pinprick surgical strikes. What would they do after that? There wasn’t much that could be done from this distance, and the Pentagon would look impotent and weak.
What about a surgical strike on the pipelines into Saudi Arabia and Turkey? someone asked.
Kelly said that would be fruitless. Bombing could not be that precise. When and if they were hit, the lines would be repaired easily. The losers in such a mission would be Saudi Arabia, Turkey, or both, since it would lead to retribution. It would be provocative and impractical. Saddam would then have his reason to attack them.
There was a suggestion that perhaps it was time to take out Saddam’s chemical and nuclear facilities, since that was the serious long-term threat from Iraq.
The idea was quickly dismissed as a serious escalation.
Pete Williams and Dave Addington, Cheney’s special assistant, stood up and left the meeting before it had ended, hoping to signal the other backbenchers that it was time to depart. Cheney did not like large meetings, they knew, particularly if a fight was brewing.
When Cheney and Powell were finally alone, the Secretary said he felt blocked. The President did not need political advice. Both he and Bush needed military options, and they did not seem to be forthcoming.
Mr. Secretary, Powell said, it’s 6,000 miles-plus away. We don’t have any ground forces and an air strike would be pissing into the wind and might provoke what we don’t want—an assault on Saudi Arabia.
It was one of the tensest exchanges the two had ever had.
• • •
Kelly didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The JCS and his operations people first needed a statement of the military goal and mission. What was it they were supposed to offer a plan for? Reprisals against Iraq? Liberation of Kuwait? Defense of other Arab states? He hadn’t seen any guidance from the political level—from either the President or the Secretary of Defense. Absent a mission, discussion of options was pretty abstract. He set up a schedule called a watch bill that assigned officers to rotate shifts so key J-3 staff would be on duty in the Pentagon 24 hours a day. But soon he and his staff were sitting around twiddling their thumbs, waiting for their mission.
Powell went over the remarks the President had made that afternoon in Colorado. It was his habit to excavate Bush’s public statements. The Chairman had to know the President’s policy, and this President tended to lay out at least some of his thinking in speeches and comments to the press. Sometimes the policy came out carefully and incrementally. Other times Powell discovered surprises.
The Aspen statements seemed measured. Bush had said that he had spoken with King Hussein and President Mubarak: “They asked for restraint. They asked for a short period of time in which to have this Arab solution evolve. . . . [They said] Let us try now, as neighbors and Arabs, to resolve this. And I made clear to them that it had gone beyond simply a regional dispute because of the naked aggression.”
• • •
Cheney was stewing. The fall of Kuwait was all by itself a threat to U.S. interests, and the President was entitled to a full range of options, including military options. He called in Admiral Bill Owens, who was on his next-to-last day as Cheney’s military assistant.
“What can the Navy do?” Cheney asked. He wanted some ideas for an immediate, punishing surgical strike on Iraq. He had in mind something that might really send a message to Saddam Hussein, something that might be accomplished with standoff weapons fired from tens of miles away so no U.S. forces would get hurt.
The Navy had the capability of launching deadly Tomahawk cruise missiles, Owens said. The so-called T-LAMs—Tomahawk Land Attack Missiles—could be preprogrammed for targets into Iraq.
Cheney said he wanted the numbers and details, and he ordered Owens to make a foray to his Navy friends on the fourth floor and come up with something. At once. Go down and bang on the system and find out what we can do and how fast we can do it. There was always stuff cranking around over there; it was a matter of locating the right office or file cabinet. The JCS wasn’t responding.
Cheney made the same request of his junior military assistant, Air Force Colonel Garry R. Trexler, directing him to find out the Air Force plans or ideas.
Cheney called this “pulsing the system.” Sampling the various services and using the informal ties was precisely what Cheney was sure Powell had done many times as military assistant to Cap Weinberger. Cheney felt that like any senior official in government running a large department, he needed multiple sources of information. There was no way he was going to let himself be captive of the JCS or Colin Powell.
• • •
When Bush and Scowcroft returned to Washington, they resumed their discussion about that morning’s inconclusive NSC meeting. For Scowcroft, there was too much drag—the attitude that this is too hard, the problem is halfway around the world, the military and administration have budget problems and maybe the situation was not so bad.
Bush agreed it was deadly serious.
Mr. President, Scowcroft said, I don’t think you ought to be the one. Let me present the case for action and then we can see what happens.
They scheduled another NSC meeting for the next morning, and Scowcroft went off to write out some of his thoughts.
That night Powell hosted a dinner at Quarters 6 for British Admiral Sir Benjamin Bathurst, the NATO commander of the English Channel forces. Conferring, meeting and socializing with dozens of foreign senior commanders was a routine and time-consuming part of the Chairman’s life. Admiral Jeremiah and 30 other guests were there. Powell threw his arms around Jeremiah in an affectionate embrace at one point during the cocktail hour. He seemed very happy with his new Vice Chairman. Powell looked relaxed. He was affable, but in
his toast at dinner, he said that the Iraqi invasion was very sobering—“a cold washcloth in the face.”
Powell completed his dinner without a single interruption about the crisis. He told those at his table that he had been humbled many times in his life. One weekend, he said, when he was Reagan’s national security adviser, he was attending the wedding of the daughter of his friend Vernon Jordan. The church was filled with politicians and journalists, “newsies,” as Powell called them. After he and Alma had taken their seats, Powell’s vibrating beeper silently went off, signaling him to call the office. He raced out of the church. The newsies and everyone else noticed, but they were all trapped in the church. He went to his car and got on the phone to the White House to learn that there had been an assassination attempt on the Turkish president, Turgut Ozal. He had made some calls to ensure the system was responding properly.
When he came back into the church about ten minutes later, everyone was straining to read the seriousness of whatever had called him away. He had played it for all it was worth, strutting in grim-faced and important. As he sat down, Alma leaned over to ask what had happened. Powell whispered his hot inside information.
“Colin, for godsakes,” she said, “I heard that on the radio three hours ago.”
After the laughter, Powell said the air could get thin in the policy stratosphere, and it was good to have a little imaginary oxygen mask off to the side of his head. When he thought everything was going fine and he was in control, he would take it and breathe a little to come back to earth. That day, he noted, instead of an oxygen mask he had Saddam Hussein.
• • •
The next day, Friday, August 3, the National Security Council met again at the White House. Clasping his notes, Scowcroft began: “We have got to examine what the long-term interests are for this country and for the Middle East if the invasion and taking of Kuwait become an accomplished fact. We have to begin our deliberations with the fact that this is unacceptable. Yes, it’s hard to do much. There are lots of reasons why we can’t do things but it’s our job.”
