Warriors by Barrett Tillman (24 page)

       The ops office was clear of everyone but the four Saudis and two Americans. It was an austere, businesslike room. Navigation and weather charts hung on the walls, with aircraft status boards and pilot training rosters neatly arrayed. The only nonfunctional item readily visible was a sign over the door: EXCEL OR DIE.

       Safad Fatah came directly to the point. "Gentlemen, you must be aware of the situation with Yemen and South Yemen. I fear it is not improving at all."

       Bennett said, "Yes, sir. I understand there's been border clashes recently. Sounds like the South Yemenis mean to stir up more trouble. "

       Mohammad Tuqman interjected. "Worse than that. They are involving us. South Yemen troops and aircrafts have crossed our borders to attack their neighbor."

       The Americans were familiar with the situation. The two countries had border disputes dating from at least I934. South Yemen-formerly the British crown colony of Aden--was perhaps the poorest nation in the region. The British had closed their naval base in I967 and, despite severe differences following British departure, the YAR, Yemen Arab Republic (usually called Yemen) and the People's Democratic Republic of Yemen (usually called South Yemen) attempted consolidation. The effort had violently been curtailed in I978 when both presidents were killed in a two-day upheaval. In South Yemen a pro-Soviet Communist, Abdul Fattah Ismail, seized power by military coup and executed his predecessor. Ismail may have ordered the death of the YAR president as well. However, Ismail's regime was toppled by an even more radical element seven years later.

       Ed Lawrence leaned forward. "Excuse me, Mr. Fatah, Mr. Tuqman. But I know the borders in that area are not well marked. Is that part of the trouble?" He visualized JNC-35, the jet navigation chart for the area. Most of central Arabia was uncharted, the section a blank white space on the map. Navigation warnings were printed along the unmarked Yemen border.

       "Just so," Fatah replied. "That part of the peninsula is sparsely populated and the boundaries have never been properly defined. Much of the terrain is rocky desert. But clearly our sovereignty has been violated. Again and again."

       Tuqman waved a bony finger. "And there is much to evidence that South Yemen is causing trouble in Oman."

       Tiger Force knew about Oman. Long ruled by a despotic, incompetent sultan, the nation gained more enlightened leadership in I970 when the sultan's son displaced him. British aid helped suppress rebels aided in part by South Yemen, but Britain closed its base on Masira Island in I977. The government remained relatively unstable, and defense was directed almost exclusively by British officers, though Israeli assistance had been reported. Bennett and Lawrence knew some of the RAF pilots flying Omani Jaguar fighter-bombers.

       Though he guessed what was coming, Bennett asked, "Where does Tiger Force fit into all this?"

       Fatah reached into his briefcase, compressing his paunch as he leaned over in the chair. "These are reports of South Yemen violations of our airspace. I also appended a status report on the People's Democratic Republic Air Force." He handed the documents across the table.

       Bennett and Lawrence already were acquainted with the PDRY air arm. They maintained current files on all military forces in the region as a matter of course. Flying MiG-21s, Sukhoi 22s, and one squadron of fast MiG-23s, the South Yemenis were looping north into Arabian airspace by staging from bases at Shibam and Seiyun I50 miles east of the Y AR border. By approaching Yemen from the northeast, they had eluded detection until almost the last moment and caught their opponents by surprise. Through human and satellite sources, it was known that the Soviets operated SA-2 and -3 missile batteries in South Yemen, and Cubans were believed leading some of the MiG and Sukhoi fighter-bomber formations.

       "Would you like us to patrol that area?" Bennett asked.

       "Yes. Our diplomatic efforts have had no effect," said Fatah. "As you know, we have only minimal contact with Marxist regimes, as a matter of faith."

       Bennett clasped his hands, leaning forward. He fixed each Saudi with an intent gaze. Speaking softly, he said, "Mr. Fatah, Mr. Tuqman. You realize that Tiger Force is not fully operational. Our first class is nearing completion of its first six months of squadron formation and the operational training that goes with it. But neither squadron has been expected to be combat-ready yet. That's two months away, with Majors Iauf and Handrah slated to take command."

       Fatah nodded. "Colonel Bennett, Colonel Lawrence, we recognize that it probably would be necessary for some of your instructors to provide . . . advice . . . during this period."

       "Do you mean flight lead, sir? Tactical leadership?"

       Fatah regarded the two Americans. "His Majesty takes a personal interest in your safety. As American citizens, none of your instructors could possibly cross into foreign airspace." His dark eyes flashed.

       Lawrence said, "We don't mind taking on this job; in fact, it'll give our people some good experience. But why not use the regular Royal Saudi Air Force? You have F-15s down there at Nejran and Khamis Mushayt, two hundred fifty to three hundred fifty miles from the Yemen border."

       Bennett interrupted. "Unless you need fighters closer to the borders. Smaller, less complex airplanes that don't need the ground support equipment of the Eagles." He tapped the chart on the table. "We could stage Tigersharks to these smaller strips and react a lot quicker."

       Bennett glanced at Majors Handrah and Jauf, who surely would be involved in the upcoming operation. He winked conspiratorially at them. They self-consciously grinned in return.

       Lawrence fidgeted in his chair. "Mr. Fatah, we're self-contained for the most part, and we don't need many mechanics. From what we call a cold start, we can be airborne in sixty seconds." The redheaded flier warmed to his subject, envisioning the situation and mentally licking his chops at the prospect of combat.

       "In ninety more seconds we can be at thirty thousand feet. That means if we get word of bogeys, we can be at altitude in two and a half minutes from the go signal-"

       Fatah held up his hands, as if to fend off the verbal torrent.

       "Gentlemen, please! You do not need to convince me." He smiled through his goatee. "Your enthusiasm is gratifying, and the reasons you state have been made by our air staff in Riyadh."

       Then the mirthful tone was gone and his voice became more serious.

       "But, my friends, there is more to this situation than you know. You have always been forthcoming with me, and I can do no less." Fatah's gaze settled on Bennett. "In truth, you are being tested. There are those who would not be disappointed if your Tiger Force failed. That is, I believe, why this assignment has arisen at this point. Those who envy your relationship with His Majesty realize that your pilots are not fully trained yet. "

       Bennett returned Fatah's gaze. "Safad, my boys can handle this job."

       The minister nodded and sat back. "I assumed so. But remember, palace politics are at work here. If you had refused this mission, or if you fail, your influence would suffer."

       "Then we won't fail." It wasn't a boast; merely a statement. Lawrence interjected. “Well, who's on our side? Will we have any support at all?"

       ''That is what we are here to discuss," Fatah replied.

       "We'll need airborne radar," Lawrence said. ''There's a good ground-control intercept station at Khamis Mushayt, but it's almost useless for targets below ten thousand feet. The mountains interfere too much."

       "Please prepare a list of what you need," Fatah smoothly responded. "Anything within reason will be supplied."

       Lawrence managed to hold back a smile.

       Bennett asked, "Gentlemen, when would you want some F-20s down there, and how many?"

       "We estimate a dozen fighters would suffice, one squadron's worth. In, say, three days?"

       Bennett said, "Yes, sir. We'll meet with you tomorrow with a preliminary plan."

       Walking back to his quarters after the meeting, Lawrence rubbed his hands together. "Put the saddle on the stove, Mother. We're ridin' the range tonight."

       THAT EVENING THE BRIEFING ROOM WAS QUIET-NOT tense, but definitely attentive. Lawrence had spoken to some of the IPs from Class One and selected three besides himself-all of them unmarried--who were willing to take on the assignment. Now Lawrence and Bennett explained the setup.

       "We've decided to share the wealth," Lawrence began, "and we'll have two four-plane flights from Orange Squadron and one from Black." Each F-20 squadron carried a color designator within Tiger Force. It bore no relation to the Royal Saudi Air Force designation, but was used by the F-20 pilots and IPs as an internal identity, a morale-builder. The first two squadrons were traditional tiger colors. The next three, from Class Two, would be White, Red, and Green. Green was Muhammad's color.

       Lawrence had chosen these men well, Bennett thought. There was always a tacit pressure on military aviators--an unspoken expectation to accept any proposition. "Never turn down a combat assignment" was a watchword in the profession. Bennett knew that few of the forty IPs would in fact refuse potential combat, but he wanted to be certain. The men sitting before him were warriors.

       "You guys know the background," Bennett said. ''The Saudis are concerned about protecting their airspace from intrusion by any party. They're trying to walk a tightrope in the Middle East, and they no more want to encourage a fight than to appear to run from one. That's why they've decided to confront the South Yemenis."

       He studied the IPs' faces. Masher Malloy seemed edgy, fidgeting in his seat, but Bennett knew it was excess energy. Geoff Hampton, the former Red Arrow, was the soul of composure. Bennett would have preferred Peter Saint-Martin, who had combat experience, but he was married. The USAF delegate was Tim Ottman. Lawrence had been careful to select one man from each community besides himself.

       Bennett smiled at the recollection of Ottman's oft-stated explanation of the I973 Paris Peace Accords. "Here I was, fresh out of training, up to speed in the F-4, and they called off the war. Well, you know why. The MiG drivers mutinied. They said, 'Oh, no, Ottman's coming! Quick, sign the damn paper!'" Well, now perhaps Tim would have his war.

       Masher Malloy raised a hand. "Skipper, what about ROE?"

       Rules of engagement always were a sore point.

       "I'm coming to that. This is supposed to be a show of force. We cruise a couple miles abeam of any unidentified gaggle and one of the Saudis raises them in Arabic. The ROE are clear from then on. If the bogeys ignore an order to leave Saudi airspace, or if they don't reply, we turn to engage. If they bug out, let 'em go. There's no hot pursuit over the border into Yemen."

       Malloy squirmed. "Geez, I've heard that tune before."

       Bennett pinned Malloy with a stare which made the little flier uncomfortable. "Just remember, this isn't our fight. It's not even our air force. Riyadh makes the rules. Clear?"

       Bennett continued. "Otherwise, it's pretty lenient ROE. If the bogeys turn into you, fight's on. If they attempt to gain a rear-hemisphere advantage, you fight. And for damn sure, if they shoot first, you shoot back."

       Consulting his notes, the CO continued. "We'll cover this tomorrow and again with the pilots before you head south. What I want to emphasize is your relationship to the Saudis. Each of you has flown with most of the fifteen studs we'll be using from Class One. You know most of their moves, their strengths and weaknesses. We're in a ticklish situation because, though we're senior to these boys, we're not really their commanding officers. One of the Saudi majors has wrangled permission to go along, but it's understood Ed will run the show for this limited time.

       "We'll run this exercise zip-lip as much as possible. It's a good opportunity to test our radio discipline. It should be a non-ECM environment, so you can call sightings and breaks as needed, but let's use this first opportunity to impress the young sports with emcon. We should be able to run any intercept under complete emissions control because we won't be radiating."

       This drew a few chuckles; most Tiger Force aircraft had been ordered without radar.

       "Each of you will be flying section lead in your flight. This will give the Saudis good experience, only calls any of you make, except an emergency, before you have to engage. We've decided to follow up the Arabic challenge with English. If there's no reply after that, expect the worst."

       Lawrence broke in, a wry smile on his face. "Of course, we could try hailing them in Spanish. Word is some Cubans are calling the shots with those folks."

       Hampton spoke up. "John, any more word on how long this may last? We'll need to plan for resupply to the staging fields."

       "Nothing on that yet. But I imagine if there's one or two good hassles, and they lose a few MiGs or Sukhois, things will settle down. At any rate, plans are being made for F-5s to take over the sector patrols as soon as possible. At visual distances it'll be hard to tell one of them from an F-20. "

       Ottman chortled. "Good idea. Make 'em respect
us,
then terrorize 'em with something that looks like us."

       ''That's about it," Bennett said. "You'll have info on your radar controllers before you leave--E-3s staging out of Khamis Mushayt. You can arrange procedures with them when you arrive.

       "One more thing. Be sure to go over loose deuce again with all your pilots. You'll be flying in rotation; an alert flight, a backup flight, and an off-duty flight during daylight hours. With four Saudis per flight, one of them also will be off duty. But you guys will be on the board full-time. So don't take anything for granted. Reinforce the fundamentals. And stress that selection for this job doesn't replace the training syllabus. Even if some of our studs come back with scalps on their belts, they'll still have two months of operational training to finish."