Shadow Warriors: Inside the Special Forces sic-3

by Tom Clancy

  Then two Iraqi fighters took off from an Iraqi air base dead ahead.

  "Snap south, snap south!" yelled an AWACS controller monitoring the area. Meaning: "Turn south and run like hell."

  This would have worked fine for a fighter. But no helicopter was going to outrun a MiG. Trask hunkered his helo into a dry wadi as one of the enemy planes whipped toward him.

  "We actually saw him fly over," he said later. Fortunately, the helicopter was too low to be picked up by radar and was hidden from the Iraqi by a broken cloud deck. The AWACS had meanwhile vectored in F-15C Eagles. As soon as the MiC realized he was being hunted, he turned tail and landed back at his air base.

  Trask pushed northward toward the area where the F-14A had gone down. Deep in Iraq without escort or even another Pave Low to back him up, he was starting to feel pretty lonely.

  There was another problem: No one had heard from the F-14 crew. Downed pilots follow very specific schedules, or "spins," which dictate when they try to contact SAR assets and what frequencies to use. The rescuers know this and follow procedures designed to minimize the chance that the enemy will find the downed pilot first. Though no one then knew this, slight but significant differences in Air Force and Navy spins made it difficult for the Air Force searchers and the Navy searchee to connect. The effort was also hampered by the survival radio Jones carried. Not only was its range limited, but the enemy could easily home in on it.

  In short, the planes looking for the Navy pilot came up empty. After several hours of standing by deep in enemy territory, Trask turned his helo back toward the border to refuel.

  As all this was going on above him, Lieutenant Jones had been hiking for over two hours, which brought him to a clump of low bushes and vegetation near a muddy wadi. He dug a hole with his survival knife. An hour and a half later, his bloodied and blistered hands had managed to clear a hole three feet deep and four feet long. The hole soon came in handy; a farm vehicle with some business at a water tank a thousand yards away inspired him to cover up in it.

  Since air crews had been briefed that rescues would take place at night, he didn't expect to be picked up anytime soon. He passed the time by making calls for help on his survival radio — and keeping his hole clear of scorpions.

  By coincidence, a flight of Air Force A-10s flying search and rescue deep in Iraq had been given a backup frequency that coincided with the Navy pilot's rescue frequency. Jones, meanwhile, had decided to transmit and then listen at times that were slightly off his normal schedule, hoping he might find his lost backseater on the air.

  What he found instead were unexpected but enthusiastic American voices.

  "Slate 46, this is Sandy 57. Do you copy?" said one of the A-10A Sandy (for search and rescue) pilots.

  "Sandy 57, Slate 46. How do you read?" Jones answered.

  His voice was so calm, the A-10A pilot thought for a moment he was dealing with an Iraqi impersonator.

  As the A-10s worked to get a fix on the downed airman, Trask saddled up again for the flight north. Joined by the other MH-53J, he alerted the AWACS and sped over the desert.

  "The SAMs are kind of coming up and going down, coming up and going down," recalled Trask, who did his best to follow the AWACS' directions and steer clear of the defenses.

  Meanwhile, the A-10A pilot kicked out a flare so Jones could spot him and vector him toward the spot where he was hiding. The Warthog passed over the pilot's hole about a hundred feet off the deck.

  Communicating this location to the approaching Pave Low proved more difficult. Unlike the helicopter, the A-10A was equipped with an ancient navigational system that tended to drift; his coordinates were as likely to send the Pave Low in the wrong direction as lead him to the pilot. Worse, there was no secure way for the two aircraft to communicate. Running out of fuel, the A-10A pilot resorted to a primitive voice code to pass the location to Trask and then took off to refuel.

  Jones waited. And waited. Every minute dragged. Unknown to him or the Special Ops rescue crew, the Warthog pilot's coded coordinates had been confused; the Pave Lows were heading twenty miles south of him. Meanwhile, a fresh pair of A-10As came north to help. Jones made contact, then directed them toward the water tank and held down his mike button so the Hog "drivers" (as the pilots call themselves) could use their radios as direction-finders.

  At about the time Jones heard the throaty hush of the planes' twin turbofans, he heard a closer and more ominous noise. A pair of Iraqi troop trucks were approaching in the distance, kicking dust behind them. The Iraqis had homed in on his radio signal.

  Trask clicked his mike switch to alert the A-10s.

  "Roger, we got 'em," said the Warthog driver. "We're in."

  A few seconds later, the attack planes rolled onto the trucks. A thick stream of 30mm uranium-depleted shells smashed the lead truck to bits. Its companion turned and fled.

  "Okay, where's he at?" Trask asked the A-10s from the Pave Low.

  "He's right next to the truck."

  By now, the truck was simply a big black hole, smoking in the desert. Trask whipped the Pave Low down between the hulk and the pilot. Within seconds, the PJs were helping one very happy Navy lieutenant aboard for the ride home.

  When Lieutenant Jones had pulled the handle, he'd been flying somewhere between 25,000 and 30,000 feet; the ejection and landing had bruised him some and left him sore. But otherwise he was uninjured — and went on to fly thirty more missions in the war. His backseater, unfortunately, had been captured. He would spend the rest of the war as a POW.

  Special Operations forces continued to fly combat search-and-rescue missions for the duration of the conflict.

  There were other successes: A Navy SH-60B launched from the USS Nicholas picked up an Air Force F-16 pilot in Gulf waters two days after the Slate 46 incident; two SEALs made the actual rescue, jumping into the water to help the pilot.

  After the start of the ground war, the pilot of an F-16 shot down in southern Iraq was picked up by aircraft from the Army special aviation unit. The MH-60 helicopters that made the rescue were equipped with weapons and an avionics set roughly comparable to those in the larger MH-53J.

  All in all, a total of 238 rescue sorties were flown by Special Operations aircraft, accounting for about a third of their overall mission flights. By comparison, the Air Force flew ninety-six rescue sorties; the Navy and Marines, a total of four.

  The allied air forces lost thirty-eight aircraft to hostile action over Iraq and Kuwait. While that is a staggeringly low percentage of casualties compared to the total number of combat sorties—64,990 by all allies — the majority of the downed airmen who survived their crashes were captured by the Iraqis. This was caused in great part because they had bailed out into hostile territory many miles from American forces.

  After the war, emergency equipment and procedures were upgraded. A radio with better range and security was introduced (which, ironically, ground SOF units already carried). Efforts were also made to improve procedures and information-sharing between the services, so locating a downed pilot wouldn't again depend on a lucky frequency assignment.

  Special Operations aircraft performed a variety of missions beyond combat rescue. Within a few days of their arrival in the Gulf, they were supporting SEAL reconnaissance teams, and Air Force AC-130 Special Operations "Spectre" gunships were to play a critical role when ground action began — as they had in Panama.

  Two slightly different versions operated in the Gulf during the war, the AC-130A and the AC-130H. While most of the basic armament and equipment sets in the planes are similar, the H models feature more-powerful engines — and a howitzer. The gunships make terrific high ground for firing artillery, but they are vulnerable. Typical operations call for night-fighting over extremely hostile territory.

  Depending on the model, Spectre weapons include a 105mm howitzer, two 40mm cannons, and miniguns. The weapons are controlled by an array of radar and targeting systems, and are very accurate.

  AC-130Hs from
the Air Force Special Operations Squadron arrived at King Fahd International Airport on September 8, 1990.

  Some months later, on January 29, after the start of the air phase of the war, the gunships were called out to help Marines repel a raid by Traqi forces on Khafji, a small desert village in northeastern Saudi Arabia. The raid, conducted by several mechanized brigades (its aims were unclear — possibly to provoke Schwarzkopf into starting ground action before he was ready), caught the Americans off guard. As the small Marine unit in the village dropped back to a more defensible position, two six-man teams found themselves isolated on rooftops amid a sudden flood of enemy troops. The Marines stayed in the city, quietly directing artillery and air strikes via radio.

  Next day and during the following night, more Iraqis streamed forward to reinforce the town.

  U.S. Marine and Saudi units struck back. Three AC-130Hs provided firepower in what turned out to be one of the hottest engagements of the war. The Spectres blasted Iraqi positions and tank columns in and around Khafji. As daylight on January 31 approached, the planes were ordered to return home. The black wings and fuselages of the slow and relatively low-flying planes made them easy targets against the brightening sky.

  One of the gunships—69-6567, called Spirit 03—was backing a Marine unit that had come under fire from an Iraqi missile battery when the call came to go home.

  They stayed on station to help the Marines.

  Another order to break off came in.

  "Roger, roger," acknowledged the copilot.

  A few seconds later, an Iraqi shoulder-launched SAM slammed into the wing and sheared it off. The Spectre spiraled into the Gulf; all fourteen crew members died.

  This was the worst SOF loss of the war.

  A SPECTRE'S firepower is awesome, but that pales in comparison with the weapon a C-130 deployed a few days after the Khafji battle.

  The plane was an MC-130E Combat Talon, designed for low-level missions behind enemy lines. Typically, Combat Talons insert and supply Special Forces troops with long-range clandestine parachute drops. Some are also equipped with Fulton STAR recovery systems and can literally snag commandos from the ground in areas too dangerous for helicopter pickups.

  The MC-130E's unique ability to carry a large cargo and deliver it at a very specific time and place also allows the propeller-driven craft to drop skid-mounted BLU-82s, or "Daisy Cutters" (because they work like very destructive lawn mowers). Consisting of 15,000 pounds of high explosive, the "Blues" are about the size of a Honda Civic hatchback. A long sticklike fuse in the squat nose triggers the explosion before the bomb buries itself in the ground, maximizing the explosion's force.

  BLU-82s were used during the Vietnam War to flatten jungle areas for use as helicopter landing zones.

  After that war wound down, the BLU-82s were largely forgotten until Major General Stiner — in his days as commander of the JSOTF — remembered his experience with the bomb in Vietnam as he was searching for a weapon that might be used effectively against terrorist-training camps. What he needed, he realized, were BLU-82s. But when he went looking for any that still remained, he found only four BLU-82 shells in a bunker at Tuello Army Depot. He also managed to locate a couple of Vietnam-era Air Force sergeants who still knew how to mix the slurry (explosive). None of his air crews had ever dropped one.

  With his own funds, he brought the number of the weapons to eight, and had two crews trained. The investment paid off big-time in the Gulf War.

  While nowhere near as accurate as laser-guided or other "smart" bombs, they don't need to be: The Blues' sheer size makes a considerable impact. (For comparison's sake, the most common iron bombs dropped from B-52s and other aircraft are five hundred pounds.)

  Minefields posed a problem for the Marines scheduled to invade Kuwait. MC-130 crews — aware of this — suggested that the Blues could be used to clear them: Pressure from the explosion would set off the mines.

  At least, they thought they would. The tactic had never been tried with the BLU-82. After some debate, the allied commander approved the mission. A pair of MC-130s, escorted by SAM killers and Air Force Raven EB-11 Is to help fend off radars, lumbered over the target area at about 16,000 feet. As the bombs slid out the back of the planes, the pilots had to work hard to hold the suddenly unbalanced MC-130s steady.

  The first explosions were so massive (the story goes) that a British commando operating in Iraq more than a hundred miles away grabbed his radio. "The blokes have just nuked Kuwait!" he is said to have told his commander.

  Whether the story is apocryphal or not, the bombs devastated the minefields. They also killed anyone within 4,000 yards of the explosion who wasn't in a protected position. Eleven were dropped during the conflict.

  The Blues were also potent psychological weapons. When an Iraqi unit was told they were due for a BLU-82 bombing, most of its men promptly came across the lines and surrendered.

  PSYOPs

  Surely the least publicized major effort of the war was the Psychological Operations (PSYOPs) campaign. This was a comprehensive effort with several aims: to build coalition support for the war, counter Iraqi propaganda, unnerve Saddam's troops, and loosen the Iraqi resolve to fight.

  Planning for the campaign began very early in the American buildup. The head of the 4th Psychological Operations Group, Colonel Tony Normand, prepared for General Schwarzkopf a comprehensive PSYOPs campaign with strategic (aimed primarily at populations) as well as tactical (aimed primarily at enemy military forces) operations. Normand, who had shaped the highly successful PSYOPs campaign in Panama, drew up a broad plan with the help of his staff, under the direction of Lieutenant Colonel Daniel D. Devlin, who had just relinquished command of a 4th Group battalion. By contrast with his attitude toward SOF operations, Schwarzkopf turned out to be a big PSYOP booster from the start.

  "PSYOP is not really a difficult subject to understand, but many try to make it overly complex, and in the end, fail to understand it at all," noted Devlin, who served as deputy commander of the 4th PSYOPs Group after it deployed to the Gulf. "First, any political, military, legal, informational, or economic action can be psychological in nature, and therefore part of a strategic PSYOP plan at the national level. Second, any military or informational action in the combatant Commander's (CINC's) sphere of influence can be psychological in nature as a part of the CINC's operational PSYOP plan. Third, any military action on the battlefield can be a part of the tactical PSYOP plan. Really good military minds understand the psychological nature of the battlefield."

  After the plan was completed, Normand waited for two days to get in to brief the CINC. Called away before he could make the presentation, he told Devlin to give the briefing.

  Devlin recounts:

  "He said not to be concerned if I had to give the briefing before he returned. He told me, 'The success of the briefing will only determine whether we take part in this operation, or return home to Fort Bragg to rake pine needles.' That kind of the essence of our relationship. We were always direct with each other, but with a great deal of friendship and humor. He was my boss. He knew he could count on me."

  The CINC's office called for Devlin twice, but then sent him back when more pressing matters delayed the meeting. "The numerous overlapping demands on the CINCs time were amazing," Devlin recalls. Finally, General Schwarzkopf had time for the briefing.

  "I went in and gave General Schwarzkopf a personal, one-on-one briefing from a three-ring binder," Devlin continues. "About a half-dozen staffers followed me in and stood in the corner waiting to see me dismembered, because the majority of the CINC's staff didn't think much of us being there. At the conclusion of my briefing, General Schwarzkopf pounded his right fist on the table and said, 'This is exactly what we need. There's an information war going on right now and we're losing it! What do I need to do to make this happen?' The staff's acceptance of us changed amazingly following the briefing.

  Schwarzkopf personally edited a draft message, making it much stronger, a
nd then authorized its transmission to Colin Powell. The message requested PSYOP assistance, and, as a result, the 4th PSYOP Group began deploying to the Gulf on August 25. The first group to deploy included Normand, Devlin and the planning staff, and a few others. Once there, as additional PSYOP assets came in from Fort Bragg, Normand and his immediate staff prepared more detailed operational plans covering a wide range of strategic, operational, and tactical missions. But even with the CINC's backing, most of Normand PSYOP plans sat for months at the Defense Department, apparently stymied because of geopolitical sensitivities in Washington.

  "We're afraid of cross-border operations," explained Colonel Normand later. Cross-border operations — Irom Saudi Arabia, say, over the border into Iraq — were in many cases inherently dangerous and always carried a potential to backfire and cause embarrassment. Thus they were likely to be sidetracked by Washington. This meant that a strategic campaign aimed at telling Iraqi citizens why the war was evil couldn't be launched. But it also hamstrung the tactical operations aimed at Iraqi soldiers.

  "A leaflet is a cross-border operation," said Normand. "You're told to start targeting the Iraqi soldiers. Well, you can't do that because they're not on your side of the border. You can't do cross-border operations."

  The official resistance led Normand to shuttle between Washington and Riyadh with one plan after another, seeking approval from the Joint Chiefs and a myriad of other military brass, as well as Defense and State Department officials. After several weeks of this, he finally received approval to proceed.