Every Man a Tiger: The Gulf War Air Campaign sic-2

by Tom Clancy

  So why go there? Because you can do a lot of things you can’t do on Earth. Satellites offer a very convenient platform.

  How do satellites work?

  Imagine a big cannon. Shoot a projectile out of it at, say, a forty-five-degree angle; the projectile makes an arc and hits some distance away. Shoot the projectile with greater velocity; the projectile makes a longer arc and falls farther away. If you keep increasing the velocity, eventually the projectile falls completely around the Earth, and it has become a satellite. It is now in orbit.

  An infinite variety of orbits are possible, and various orbits have various useful purposes.

  For example, if you place a satellite at approximately 22,300 miles above the equator and set it in motion with a speed that matches the Earth’s rotation, then it just sits there (at least from the point of view of the Earth). Looked at from below, it’s stationary — or geosynchronous (GEO), to use the technical term — with a little less than half the world in its field of view (the exceptions are the polar areas). That means it can receive line-of-sight signals from Earth and beam them back to a receiver located anywhere else in the world that is in its field of view. Hooking these two stations up would mean a lot of copper wire; plus, you can send transmissions to intermediate stations in between. Best of all, you can send the radio beam to another satellite, also hovering over the equator, and that one can send it to another. Either of these can send the message down to a station within its field of view. In that way, you can contact anyplace on Earth (except at its very top and very bottom).

  This orbit is best for communications satellites. It is also the home of our Cold War infrared satellites, such as the ones that detected the ballistic missiles launched at Riyadh or Israel.

  If you want your satellite to listen to radio broadcasts from some station on Earth — say, KRNT radio in Des Moines, Iowa — it turns out that GEO may not provide a view of an area you want covered. That means you want your satellite to be closer to the station. The problem is that a GEO orbit is the only place in which the satellite will stand still over the surface of the earth; and besides, since you don’t care to listen to ABC in Perth, Australia, on the other side of the world, you want your orbiting satellite to float over Des Moines and whiz by Perth. That means you’ll want to create an egg-shaped orbital path, with the Earth located at the bottom of the small part of the oval. In that way, your satellite will spend most of its time looking down on Iowa and very little time looking down on down-under. This kind of elliptical orbit is called a “Molniya” orbit (the word is Russian; I don’t know what it means).

  If you want to use a satellite to look closely at the surface of the earth, then you’ll want to fly it as close to it as you can get, because the closer you are, the better you can see things. So you put your satellite in as low an orbit as possible. The problem now is that if you get too low, you start scraping air, and your bird slows down and eventually falls to earth. This orbit is called Low Earth Orbit, or LEO (about 60 to 300 miles up).

  If you want to listen instead of look, then you might go higher, so your satellite has more of the Earth’s surface in its field of view. This is called Medium Earth Orbit, or MEO (anything between LEO and GEO). Hence, the space geeks talk about LEO and MEO, GEO and Molniya. And if you learn to say “anomaly” when something is screwing up, and “effemerius” when you mean speed, altitude, and heading, then you’re well on your way to becoming a true space cadet.

  ★ As CINCSPACE, I had three jobs.

  First, I was CINC NORAD. There, it was my responsibility to maintain the air sovereignty of the United States and Canada. Though watching over sovereignty involved keeping track of what flew over our nations from outside our borders, the real job was to evaluate the indications of a ballistic missile attack on the United States and Canada, in order to advise the President and the Prime Minister, so the President could order the nuclear response that would end the world. NORAD handled this warning and evaluation (rather than, say, CINCSTRAT, who would order the attack, should that come) to keep the evaluator separate from the trigger-puller. Of course, the biggest tip-off would have been the radar and IR satellite detection of an ICBM attack.

  Second, I was CINCSPACE. There, I commanded components from Army, Navy, and Air Force (of which Air Force Space Command was the largest).

  As CINCSPACE, I evaluated and influenced the space programs of the various services. I also validated the requirements documents used by the services to support the funding of their programs and made sure that the service programs coordinated with, and supported, the efforts of the sister services. I provided space services to the regional CINCS through the components. So, for example, I made sure the AFSPACE flyers of the comm satellites positioned their birds to support the needs of a CINC — say, the CINC Korea (technically, the commander combined forces Korea), who had a special need and had been authorized access to the satellite by the JCS and DISA (Defense Information Systems Agency, which handles long-haul communication and tries to make the services’ programs interoperable or joint). I worked with other space agencies, not the least of which was the National Reconnaissance Office (which is responsible for acquiring and operating space vehicles that provide national intelligence, and is headed by an Assistant Secretary of the Air Force). This made sure that the services’ interests were represented in the national community requirements documents. In the past, this had been a big problem, as the NRO mainly responded to the Cold War and did not like to get close to regional conflicts. Though that changed after Desert Storm, I still had problems with the CIA, who wanted the Cold War to remain, so they could do business as usual.

  Third, I commanded AFSPACE, the Air Force space component, by far the largest of the three service components working for CINCSPACE. My job there was to make sure operations went as planned and that satellites were maintained and controlled. I also operated ground stations around the world that collected intelligence, talked to satellites, tracked objects in space, launched satellites, or operated the bases that controlled civilian and NRO-launched satellites. I was additionally responsible for recovery of the space shuttle, should there be a problem. If launches or landings went as advertised, then NASA did the job. But if things went bad, then the job was mine. This is because I had the rescue helicopters and military crews capable of reaching and recovering survivors.

  As the commander of AFSPACE, I supervised the staff that built the requirements documents that led to new space systems. I managed the funds needed to operate the space networks, maintained the bases, and had a full staff, like any large component.

  And finally, I was responsible for the creation of a pair of institutions of which I remain particularly proud, Fourteenth Air Force and the Space Weapons Center.

  Fourteenth AF has assigned to it all the space assets of the USAF and serves as a space component in the event of war.

  Its assets include both launch complexes at Vandenburg AFB, California, and Patrick AFB at Cape Canaveral, Florida; Falcon AFB (now Schriever, named after General Bernard A. Schriever, who was the genius behind our development of ICBMs, as well as the engines we use to put satellites into orbit — Atlas, Titan, and Delta) east of Colorado Springs, where the actual flying of satellites is managed; and units around the world that make up the AFCN (Air Force Control Network).

  Until Fourteenth AF came into existence, there was no specific space component responsible for war-fighting. Space “products” were simply delivered haphazardly.[72]

  As I said earlier, the space folks didn’t know war, and the warriors did not know space. Therefore the spacers had capabilities that could help the troops with guns, but since they had no idea what the armed mob did, they could not tell them what they had to offer. On the other hand, the armed mob had no idea what was available. Keep in mind, as well, that most of space is highly classified, owing to its long association with the Cold War and national agencies. Is it surprising that the left hand hardly ever knew what the right hand was doing?
/>   The Space Warfare Center was set up to allow a group of people (half of whom were space warriors and half of whom were air warriors) to think about space war and to exercise space war in the same manner that the Fighter Weapons Center had done since the 1960s. They would then bring space to unified command exercises in Korea or the Middle East, or to service war games such as Blue Flag and Red Flag.

  My role at Space was to bring as much war-fighting awareness to the space people, to organize them to respond to the needs of people in combat or crisis management. I pushed for systems that would pay off in regional war and tried to kill everything that addressed only Cold War requirements, such as low data rate communications satellites (satellites that could withstand a nuclear burst in space and thus maintain CINCSTRAT’s command-and-control communications, so his airborne bombers could execute their missions).

  Most of all, I worked on the awareness, attitude, and motivation of the space people. In other words, lots of Bill Creech — Pride, Product, Professionalism, Initiative.

  ★ I couldn’t close out any discussion of space without a discussion of space exploration. This may seem like a long way from Iraq and Desert Storm, but it’s all on the same continuum of what man can dream and achieve.

  People talk about space as the last frontier. It’s right that they should. Oh, there are people who oppose it, mostly among those who call themselves intellectuals and opinion makers. Their objections take two forms.

  First, these people want to see space free from human contamination. “Why subject humans to the intolerable risk of space travel, when robots do a better job?” True, space is not safe, but that’s not the point. The point is that men and women will go where men and women want to go.

  Second, they want to keep space free from the contamination of weapons. “Why not keep the contagion localized?” Their argument is stronger here, but they may as well try to keep their daughters virgins. Weapons are already in space. See above.

  In the sixteenth century, there were Europeans who argued against exploring and settling the new continents to the West. They are now forgotten.

  There seems to be enough water on Mars to support life — if not Martian life, then the earthly kind. Let’s go there. Let’s mine the asteroids. Let’s go to Titan and gaze meditatively at Saturn’s rings. And why stop there?

  As we fly beyond earthly bonds, let’s face it, we’re likely to get into fights. We’re contentious. Sure, there’s a possibility that sanity will prevail (and I pray that it will), but, humans being humans, don’t count on it.

  But so what?

  Humankind needs expanding frontiers. We are a curious, questioning, outward-going (in every sense), contentious, competitive bunch. We don’t like confinement — even when the boundaries of our confinement are as wide as the world that gave us birth.

  Man will not be contained.

  So let him soar!

  15

  Building Coalitions

  When we talk about “Lessons Learned,” there is one that hasn’t been emphasized enough in the literature I’ve read about the Gulf War, and I want to underline it here, at the end of this book. Desert Storm was an international team effort. It couldn’t possibly have worked as well as it did — or maybe even worked at all — if all the nations hadn’t cooperated, paid respect to one another, and shouldered equal portions of the burden. This was not an American war. It was a Coalition war. And we’d better remember how we did it if we’re to be successful in the wars of the future.

  The same thought occurred to Chuck Horner on a day in mid-February 1991, a time when the air war was on autopilot. The planes took off in the morning and sallied forth to bomb the Iraqi Army. They returned to bases in Saudi Arabia to load more bombs, then continued the pounding of Saddam’s helpless troops — now little more than an armed rabble, hunkering down anywhere that offered safety from the aerial onslaught.

  Among Coalition airmen, everyone was tired, worn down, fatigued, for this was the hard part of war — the unnecessary part. The outcome of the war had been decided, yet the killing went on. Even after his losses of the first month of the war, and even after days upon days of mind-numbing bombing attacks, the contest of wills between the Coalition and the Iraqi leader continued. Saddam Hussein still held on to the notion that he could somehow win this conflict and keep his stolen treasure, Kuwait.

  In mid-February, a new addition to the Coalition air force arrived, when Korea sent four C-130 transports to help move the armies to the west for the ground offensive. The day they landed at their new home at Al-Ain Air Base in the United Arab Emirates, Chuck Horner greeted the senior representative of the Republic of Korea Air Force, Major General Lee. Lee would go on to command the ROKAF, become the chairman of their military forces, and eventually become the Secretary of Defense of his country; but that day he was another member of the Coalition, an equal.

  At their initial meeting, Horner was surprised at Lee’s quiet, humble, and somewhat abashed tone.

  At that point, Horner was totally unaware that the ROKAF had never engaged in foreign deployed operations — operations the USAF takes for granted. Thus they were not equipped with the kits of aircraft spare parts, maps, radio navigation charts, tents, fuel bladders, and bags of individual equipment (such as helmets and chemical weapons protection gear) that are everyday life to an American C-130 squadron. They had simply loaded up their transports with maintenance personnel and whatever spare tires and maintenance equipment they could carry, and had flown off to the unknown. The possibility that they might get shot down and die was of little concern. The questions General Lee faced were far more troubling: How would he feed and house his men? Where would they get fuel and supplies to maintain their jets? Most of all — as newcomers to a war that was well into its fourth week — would they be accepted? The honor of an entire nation rested on his troubled shoulders.

  He had no doubt that his men would work tirelessly to do whatever was asked of them. He knew that they would risk their lives to fly missions in support of the Coalition ground forces as they advanced into occupied Kuwait and Iraq. But he also knew that without a helping hand, he would fail, and his aircraft would sit on the ground, idle, even a burden, while others fought and died. Despite this profound unease, he was too proud to beg.

  As they talked, Horner began to realize how truly worried and anxious the Korean was — even as he himself knew for certain that most of General Lee’s worries were groundless.

  And at that moment, he had a small revelation. It hit Horner as it had never hit him before what the Coalition was all about. Let him tell you his ideas on that.

  ★ When I met General Lee, my first thoughts were Gee, another nation is joining us, and we can sure use their transports. Our airlifters are worn out moving the armies to the west. But when I met him, I was struck with his apologetic, almost embarrassed, manner. He was worried that he might not have the wherewithal to accomplish his mission. I quickly put those fears to rest with a warm handshake, and with assurances that whatever his people needed would be provided: housing and meals courtesy of the UAE Air Force hosts, spare parts and command and control from his USAF counterparts, and lots of productive work from everybody. We’re all partners in the war to free Kuwait, I concluded.

  After my assurances, a huge wave of relief came over him, and in a moment, he and I became friends.

  Up until that instant, I had almost taken the Coalition for granted.

  It was then that I began to comprehend the nature of this Coalition, its uniqueness in history, and its importance as a defining aspect to future warfare. It was then that I began to treasure the — what was the right word? Brotherhood? Fellowship? The precise term didn’t come easy; we were in a new world here — which I had been too busy to comprehend since those early days of August.

  For the first time I realized that this coalition was far different from the joining of forces that had occurred in World Wars I and II… that we were a team, not the augmented American force of the Ko
rean War and our ill-fated attempt to fight as a coalition in Vietnam… that we Americans were in a position of leadership — yet were truly not in charge… that the other national leaders on the team were aware that we were big, had all the nicest equipment, and could be painfully self-assured and arrogant; yet that equality with us was their right and privilege — even though they could never ask for, much less demand, that status, because to do so would be an admission that we were in fact in charge.

  General Lee had hit me right between the eyes. He’d made me awaken to the sacrifice it must have been for the other members — especially those from outside NATO — to trust the Americans. And suddenly I began to actually identify with my fellow airmen from this rainbow of nations, joined under a common command in a common purpose.

  ★ Later that week, I ran into Colonel Mohammed Al-Ayeesh in the Black Hole. This Saudi fighter pilot and Major Turki bin Bandar (called Little Turki) had been the first foreign officers to join the Black Hole planning group in September.[73]

  In September, we had had no foreign officers assisting our planning for offensive air operations, and that had troubled me. Yet I knew that if I asked permission from Schwarzkopf, he would be concerned about security leaks and deny my request. Still, in the belief that it was better to seek forgiveness than to live a life of indecision, I’d gone to General Behery.

  “Ahmed,” I said, “you must know we are planning offensive operations against the Iraqis.”

  With a smile, he assured me he was well aware that all those Americans shuttling to and from the large conference room next to both our offices must have been involved in something beyond the defense of Saudi Arabia.

  I then explained that I did not want to commit his nation to a war in Iraq, but we both knew that such a thing would be required if Saddam did not terminate the occupation of Kuwait.