by Tom Clancy
The person he needed to talk to so urgently, as it turned out, was Abdel Meguid, the Egyptian Foreign Minister, to whom he described the terrible situation he was in and asked for guidance.
"You'll just have to sort things out as best you can," he was told, "until a decision about what to do can be reached."
He stayed on the phone most of the day with various people back in Egypt — remaining very concerned about the uncertainty of the predicament they were in. But he was even more worried about the consequences that could result from the high-level passengers they had on board (who weren't identified at this point, but it was clear he wasn't talking about the terrorists).
The intelligence information from his conversations was relayed to me, and proved very useful later.
Once we had the pilot and the ambassador off the plane, I decided to go aboard myself, accompanied by SEAL Lieutenant Commander "Pat," and see who was on it.
Inside, the plane had been configured in a VIP executive mode, with three "working tables." At one table on the far side of the plane sat the four terrorists, unarmed and easy to identify. Three of them appeared to be in their twenties, and one looked to be a little younger. Next to them at another table sat eight to ten members of Egypt's counterterrorist force (Force 777), all of them in uniform and all armed with automatic pistols. At another table on the right sat two men in civilian clothes — evidently big shots. One was very Arab in appearance and very tough-looking. The other was younger, redheaded and freckle-faced, and resembled no ethnic group in the region that was familiar to me. There also were the copilot, the navigator, and about four other crew members.
Although they were armed, I did not consider the 777 guards to be a threat. As it happened, we had trained the 777 Force a few years back, but we knew they had not kept up their proficiency, and now they found themselves at the mercy of those who had trained them — the best in the world. And they knew it.
After we had looked around, Pat and I left the plane.
Back at my command post beneath the tail of the plane, I was joined by Colonel "Frank" and several members of the battle staff who would add their brains and experience to mine. Bob also positioned his executive officer, Commander "Tom," with "Frank." Those two were capable of handling anything.
Meanwhile, Bob was firmly in command of security. I told Frank to manage the door and keep an eye on those still inside the plane.
About fifteen minutes after we landed and took control of the plane, Italian troops of all kinds began showing up and taking up positions outside of our positions — Army troops, Carabinieri (police), and even young green conscripts with World War II weapons (the same bunch had recently been in Bill Spearman's motor pool, shooting at birds). The whole affair was kind of comical. They were showing up in anything available to carry them — pickup trucks, motor bikes, cars, and even three-wheeled construction carts with five or six guys in their dump buckets.
The sudden appearance of armed American forces taking over part of his base had so astonished Colonel Annicchiarici, that he'd decided he had to do something. He immediately ordered his own troops into action.
About the same time, a couple Italian officers showed up and tried to board the plane, to see who was on it, but were turned away by Frank and Tom.
So this was the situation not too long after midnight on Friday, October 11:
We had the plane surrounded with two rings of about eighty to ninety heavily armed shooters and snipers positioned at strategic locations. However, the outer ring of our security was now directly facing the Italians — eyeball to eyeball. Though I figured they had us outnumbered by about three to one, I wasn't worried about them taking us on. They knew better than that. However, I was concerned that something unanticipated, like a vehicle backfiring, could cause one of their young, jumpy troops to open fire. If that happened, several people would die, mainly Italians.
About this time, Bill Spearman showed up at the plane with Colonel Annicchiarici, followed soon after that by an Italian Army three-star (whose name I do not recall), who had come to officiate at the change of command. As it soon turned out, we were lucky to have the three-star there. He was friendly and intelligent, and did what he could to help the two sides — his and ours — navigate a difficult situation. Over the next twenty-four hours, the two of us came to work closely together to sort out this complex situation.
After we'd been introduced, I explained our mission and my understanding of the Italian government's position — that is, that they had agreed to turn the terrorists over to us.
"If it were up to me," he replied, "I would give them to you in a minute. But I have received no word to this effect, and you must understand where that leaves me."
"Maybe the word just hadn't gotten down to you yet," I told him. "How about you going back up the tape to check, while I check with my ambassador in Rome?"
He agreed.
I contacted my liasion officer and told him to get Ambassador Rabb on the horn. When Ambassador Rabb came on the radio five minutes later, I explained that we had forced the Egyptian airliner down at Sigonella with the four terrorists on board and that my orders were to take the terrorists and fly them back to the States to stand trial, and it was my understanding that the Italian government had agreed to turn them over to me.
"You've done what?" he blurted, taken aback. I could tell from his reaction that he didn't know anything about any part of this. But he said he
About fifteen minutes later, the Italian lieutenant general returned. "I have gone all the way back to the Minister of Defense," he said, "and no one knows about any such agreement.
"You must understand," he added, "that it was an Italian ship that was hijacked, and this is Italian soil, with Italian jurisdiction. And we just can't afford to turn them over."
"Let me check with Washington to see if there is a misunderstanding."
Still standing by the plane, with the Italian three-star close by, I made another call to the Pentagon. I don't recall who answered, but it sounded like Admiral Moreau, and I knew that all the chiefs were listening.
"I want to bring you up to speed and to reverify my mission," I said. "Here is the situation: We have the plane. I have verified that the four terrorists are on board, along with eight to ten armed guards from the 777 Force, which I do not consider a threat. Also there are two other men, one a tough-looking Arab in his mid-forties, who has to be important, and a younger redheaded, freckled-face guy sitting at a table with him. We have not been able to identify these two. I have already taken the pilot off the plane, along with another individual who claims to be an ambassador. He is now calling back to Egypt and we are monitoring his phone conversations. Mostly he is requesting guidance to deal with the terrible situation they have ended up in.
"The Italian base commander here at Sigonella felt that he had to react," I continued. "I think more to save face than anything else. In my estimation, they have positioned about three hundred or so troops in a perimeter around us. We are eyeball to eyeball. I have an Italian three-star with me. He has called all the way back to his Ministry of Defense and can find no one with any knowledge of an agreement to turn over the terrorists to us. I have also talked to Ambassador Rabb, and he has no knowledge of such an agreement.
"I am not worried about our situation. We have the firepower to prevail. But I am concerned about the immaturity of the Italian troops, some of whom arc green conscripts, as well as the absence of anybody with the ability to control them in this tense situation. A backfire from a motorbike or construction cart could precipitate a shooting incident that could lead to a lot of Italian casualties. And I don't believe that our beef is with our ally, the Italians, but rather with the terrorists.
"Now with this picture, I just want to reverify that my mission is to take the terrorists off the plane and bring them back to the U.S."
After I finished, I got a "wait out."
About five minutes later, a response came — I thought from Secretary Weinberger,
but it could have been Admiral Crowe, since I had never heard his voice over SATCOM: "You are the ranking American on the scene, and you do what you think is right."
I "rogered" the message. Which was exactly what I wanted to hear. It gave me the latitude to do what I thought would turn out best.
By this time it was about 4:00 A.M. We had been on the ground now for approximately two hours, trying to sort this mess out. During that time, I had occasionally overheard discussions between Italian officers, including some disagreements. There were apparently questions about which "magistrates" (judges) ought to have jurisdiction over the terrorists. The Italian justice system was complex, and there'd be plenty of magistrates involved, all with differing responsibilities. This could conceivably further complicate a conclusion that would be in the best interest of the United States.
After listening to all this for a while, and doing some thinking on my own, I'd come to my main conclusion: No matter how complex the Italian justice system was, and how many magistrates would be involved, we had to somehow find a way to fix responsibility for prosecuting the terrorists on the shoulders of the Italian government. We needed to find a way to hold their feet to the fire inescapably.
A little later, a way to do that came to me.
About that time, my counterpart, the Italian three-star, and I moved the short distance to the base commander's office, which was where he had to make his calls anyhow, to find a more suitable place to discuss the issues at hand.
When we got there, I made a proposal that I thought would be in the best interest of both governments. "The first thing we've got to do," I told him, "is un-mingle the troops, to minimize the possibility of a shooting incident between the United States and Italy that could leave a lot of dead or wounded Italians lying on this tarmac when the sun comes up — a situation you and 1 must avoid.
"Once we have done that, I will take the Force 777 guards off the plane, disarm them, and take them to a secure holding area. Then we will take the rest of the air crew off, leaving only the terrorists and the two unidentified individuals on the plane.
"Once that's done, 1 will reduce our security force to a minimum visible presence around the plane.
"Come daylight, you or whoever you designate can enter the plane and take the remainder off one at a time. Then, you, along with a two-man detail that I provide, will take them to whatever location the district attorney designates for charging and lock up; and we will assist in verification/identification." What I had in mind was to fly in some of the former hostages from Egypt and put the terrorists before a lineup, but I didn't spring this on the lieutenant general until later.
The lieutenant general seemed to like that idea and, with a nod of his head, asked for a few minutes to discuss the proposal with his higher-ups. He picked up the phone, and then about fifteen minutes later told me that the proposal was agreeable.
Soon after that, he ordered the Italian troops surrounding the aircraft to withdraw, and judging from their reaction, they were relieved to do so. But it was good to see that they left with no animosity.
Meanwille, the White House was calling Craxi again: The President felt strongly about bringing the terrorists to justice, the Italian was told.
The Italian prime minister claimed that he personally had no problem giving the hijackers up to the Americans; but this was an Italian legal matter, and Italian courts had jurisdiction.
During the next hour, we disarmed the 777 Force guards, removed them from the plane, and took them to a holding place where they could get some food and rest (under armed escort). Next, the power was shut down on the plane, and the crew was removed and reunited with the captain elsewhere on the base.
This left only the four terrorists and the two unidentified individuals on the plane.
At this point, in order to lower the anxiety level of the Italians, we reduced our guard force around the plane to six visible SEALs, but a reaction force remained nearby, if needed.
At daybreak, Colonel Annicchiarici, accompanied by several armed guards and a paddy wagon, showed up with the Egyptian "ambassador." The colonel and the ambassador boarded the plane, and after maybe two hours of negotiations, they persuaded the four hijackers to surrender. They were loaded in the paddy wagon and placed in a military jail at the air base. Later, they were taken downtown and arraigned before the local Italian district attorney.
The two remaining unidentified men, however, were by this time claiming diplomatic immunity as PLO envoys, and refused to leave the plane. The tough looking one was carrying an Iraqi diplomatic passport with a name on it that 1 forget, but we suspected — and could not yet positively prove — that he was the terrorist mastermind, Abu Abbas. The other one, the redhead, turned out to be the political officer of the Cairo PLO office — a functionary (as we later found out) by the name of Hassan.
If Abbas actually turned out to be on the plane, and we could bring him to trial, we would have achieved a far more significant victory in the war against terrorism than just grabbing the four hijackers. He was the mastermind and organizer; they were nothing but hit men.
Unfortunately, we had not yet identified him, and more important, he was on Italian soil. Prime Minister Craxi wanted no part in bringing Abbas to justice. The Italian prime minister stonewalled. His intention all along was to get Abbas out of Italy as fast as an aircraft could be found to carry him and a safe haven could be found to take him in (this last came from a source inside the Italian government).
Meanwhile, positively confirming whether or not the tough-looking Palestinian was Abbas became our priority. We did this using photos that the Agency sent us over SATCOM — a fairly recent technology that our people had developed.
Before we'd had this technology, photographs and additional maps had had to be flown to us at night out of Washington (or wherever) by special courier flight. Even after engineers in the corporate electronics industry had told us time and again that it couldn't be done earlier that year, a young army captain had designed the circuitry and all the necessary systems for a device that would let us send pictures and drawings over SATCOM. Captain "Rich" was at the time assigned to the our Intelligence Directorate, and he was one of the smartest and hardest-working young officers I have ever known.
After the captain[23] designed the system, which we called "PIRATE," industry built us two of them. We gave one to the Agency, and we had the other one with us.
By means of PIRATE, the Agency sent us the photographs of Palestinian leaders. And these permitted us to positively identify our guy as Abu Abbas.
Now that the terrorists were in Italian custody, I decided it was a good time to reduce our signature. It was daylight now and the press had begun to show up outside the fence with their long telephoto lenses. For that reason, I told Captain Bob and his SEALs that they were released to head back to home base.
They launched at 0900 hours, feeling good about themselves and their accomplishments in the war against terrorism.
Meanwhile, 1 stayed behind with my assault CP and a few other essential personnel in order to see this thing through to a "satisfactory" ending.
ABBAS AND HASSAN
During the standoff between American and Italian troops, Italian officials had contacted the Egyptian Ambassador to Rome, Ychia Rifaat, stating that Italy intended to take custody of the four hijackers and prosecute them, and that the two PLO representatives would have to leave the plane and furnish testimony.
In response to this, the Egyptian government agreed to the handing over of the four hijackers to Italian judicial authorities. But the disposition of the two PLO emissaries was another thing again. The Palestinians, the Egyptians announced, were covered by diplomatic immunity; they had been brought to Sigonella against their will, and they had no intention of getting off the plane. In fact, the Egyptian government argued, the plane itself was on a special governmental mission, and benefited from diplomatic immunity under international law. As long as the two Palestinians remained aboard, they were on E
gyptian territory, and the Egyptian government declared it was prepared to "defend, if necessary, the inviolability of the plane with arms."
Finally, at about 0900 on Friday, October 11, Ambassador Rifaat delivered a formal diplomatic note, in which the Egyptian government sought a clarification of the legal status of the Egypt Air plane and its occupants, and requested that the plane be allowed to leave Sigonella immediately, along with all its remaining passengers.
About 10:00 that same morning, a small brown executive jet landed and parked at the end of the runway near the Egypt Air 737. Two well-dressed middle-age men deplaned and approached the 737. One claimed to be from Rome representing the Italian government. The other, probably an Arab, never spoke. After their credentials were confirmed by my Italian three-star counterpart (he told me they were both from the Italian government), we agreed to let them board the plane to talk to the two Palestinians (no one was yet admitting that they were in fact Abbas and Hassan), and they remained there for about an hour before returning to their plane and departing.
I didn't actually buy the story they gave me. Their behavior made me suspicious that they were somehow going to try to smuggle Abu Abbas and Hassan out of Sigonella, and perhaps out of Italy. This would confirm what I'd already learned from my Italian three-star counterpart, who'd dropped pretty clear indications from time to time that the Italian government was trying to find an easy, no-pain way out of the dilemma they felt they were in.
I called Vice Admiral Moreau, explained my concerns, and asked if he could find a Navy T-39, which is a small, executive-type jet, from somewhere nearby and send it to me so we could follow them, should my fears turn out to be accurate.
I had already selected four of my best people for my "chase team" — Lieutenant Colonel "Dick," Major "Johnny," Command Sergeant Major "Rick," and one of our best SATCOM radio operators — when at about 2:00 P.M., a pair of Navy lieutenants showed up saying that their squadron, VR 24, located on Sigonella, had been tapped for the mission, and they were my pilots, reporting for instructions.