Warriors by Barrett Tillman (37 page)

       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."

       Bennett moistened his lips. He was coming to the crucial part of his plan. ''The Syrian Air Force, and to a lesser extent the Iraqis, are involved in supporting their ground forces. Riyadh indicates that the Egyptians will conduct offensive sweeps over Sinai, requiring Israeli attention on their western flank. This leaves us to play the main role in drawing the bulk of their air force into battle--on our terms.

       "A bit of philosophy, gentlemen. I believe that the air weapon is the most fragile of all. Tiger Force is a prime example. It's taken us nearly four years to bring the F-20 squadrons to their current combat-ready status, and we've done it faster than anybody else ever has. It's been a combination of streamlined training, rigid pilot selection, and a relatively inexpensive, easily maintained aircraft. But even the few losses we've sustained have not been replaced in kind.

       "The same applies to the Israelis. They cannot put an equally competent, experienced pilot in the next available cockpit after losing one of their first-line aviators. Thus, the experience level is degraded with each loss.

       "If we can force the Israelis to come out and fight us over our own territory, we gain a double advantage. We're fighting close to our bases, and we keep anybody who ejects. The Israelis will lose not only their KIAs, but most of those who bailout."

       Bennett thought back to the long-ago War College class and the treatise he had written-the paper which had brought him to the attention of Safad Fatah.

      
Only airpower can defeat airpower.
And in the Middle East, with no weather to hide in, without forests and towns to conceal one's troops, everyone is vulnerable from the air.

       Looking around the room, Bennett was confident his air arm could do the job. He saw Ahnas Menaf, skipper of Green Squadron, stylishly sporting a green scarf. He noted Rajid Hamir had sent his exec, preferring to remain with Orange Squadron. The acts were typical of each young Saudi. Ahnas leading from the most visible position, confident and assured; Rajid accomplishing the same results in the opposite manner.

       Bennett briefly thought of Ed Lawrence, moving tonight with Black Squadron to a second-line base for two days.
They're living like supersonic gypsies,
Bennett thought.
Devil must be enjoying himself. At least I hope so; this is the biggest thing he has to look forward to for the rest of his life.

DAY TWO

Over the Mediterranean. 2200 Hours

      
The U.S. Air Force Boeing E-3 made a gentle turn, taking a heading west-northwest toward its base on Crete. The huge radar disk mounted atop the fuselage, capable of detecting targets almost 500 miles away, was secured, its mission completed. The vast array of monitors remained in operation, however, to detect electronic emissions of any kind.

       Previously the U. S. Air Force had kept the sophisticated airborne warning and control systems aircraft in Saudi Arabia. In fact, it had been a political sore point for two U.S. administrations, since the Israeli lobby protested loudly. But with Arabia's declaration of war on Israel, in support of regaining Jordan and the West Bank, it was not feasible to keep the AWACS planes in Arabia.

       Normally, constant monitoring flights were made by the converted Boeing 707s, collecting valuable intelligence from almost every nation in the region. But this October evening six fast, low-flying jets temporarily went undetected by any radar. Their mission plan had taken into consideration the E-3's routine schedule, noted several days before.

       The Six British-built Panavia Tornadoes, each bearing the green and white cockade insignia of Arabia, penetrated Israeli airspace from three directions. Flying at low level, in the dark, their navigation had to be precise if the plan was to succeed. And it very nearly did.

       Mission planners had timed each two-plane section's approach to coincide exactly for weapons release: one section from seaward into Tel Aviv, two more from east and northeast over Jerusalem. But the wide-ranging western section had missed a turning point by fifty seconds and was late popping up to identify its target.

       The nature of the three targets could not be ignored in Tel Aviv.

       In less than three hours the picture was clear to the Israeli leadership, and orders were hastily transmitted to air force headquarters:

       Destroy Saudi bases earliest time possible. Highest priority. Prepare contingency plan for air raids on Mecca and Riyadh.

DAY THREE

New York

      
Avrim Ran stepped down from the rostrum amid a scattered chorus of shouts and catcalls. The Israeli ambassador to the United Nations had cut short his prepared speech to the General Assembly, for clearly the mood of the international body was against him. His face flushed, fists clenched, he crumpled his text, stared straight ahead, and walked from the hall.

       Ran had intended to cite the Arab assault upon occupied Jordan when he prepared his speech the day before. But the news from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem during the night had changed the complexion of his address.

       Avrim Ran went straight to his office, locked the door, and sat by himself. He felt humiliated, embarrassed, and angry. But most of all, he imagined the grim smile he knew must cross his younger brother's face. David Ran had never believed in the power of diplomacy. Avrim had set his life and his career to the pursuit of peace through negotiation. Now, it appeared David had been proven right. Only military force could retrieve the situation. The thought galled the ambassador.