It had gone like that all evening. But just before adjourning, the monarch had drawn Bennett aside.
Holding Bennett's arm and leaning close, he had said, "One thing for you to consider before our meeting tomorrow. You are aware of the strength of the Israeli Air Force, both in type and number of aircraft and in quality of pilots. Now, assuming you have an unlimited budget to procure any number, any type of fighter, and the time to train young men to your standards, is it possible that this air force might match the Israelis?"
Bennett returned the king's level gaze. This was the tacit question which forced itself to his consideration during the morning session with the ministers.
"I need to know, Your Majesty, if you intend me to commit this force against the Israelis. You understand it could jeopardize my status as a retired American military officer."
The king said, "Yes, I understand that completely. And I want you to know, between the two of us, that I would not expect you to be compromised that way. But I will be honest with you, my friend. As events now stand, with the invasion of Jordan, anything is possible. I must know all the possibilities beforehand. As Safad Fatah has told you, we Saudis are likely to find ourselves in the middle before long. We may well have to fight our Arab neighbors as well as the Israelis. That is why I need a highly professional, thoroughly competent air defense force. "
Bennett's mind raced. Something did not fit here. He respected this man who ruled the desert kingdom, and very much wanted to believe him. "Tell me, Your Majesty. You already have a modern, well-equipped air force. Why not simply expand it along the lines you already have?"
A smile crossed the king's face. "Ah, Commander Bennett, please understand. The Royal Saudi Arabian Air Force bears the markings of my nation, but in a real sense it is not mine. The aircraft, the support, and most of all the maintenance, depends upon foreign sources. Your country's contribution is nearly over, with the military assistance group. Now with the political factors we face, both in Washington and in our own region, we cannot count upon an uninterrupted flow of materiel or advisers. For this reason I want an independent air force, directly under my control with an absolute minimum of dependence upon external factors.
"You will excuse me if I speak bluntly. The Jewish lobby in America is very strong. Every time the United States wishes to sell us equipment or provide advisers, your politicians are deluged with letters and protests. This despite the very well-known fact that my country has not gone to war against Israel since 1948. But if our military supplies are embargoed, I will have my Arab brothers to worry about-perhaps even more than the Israelis."
At length Bennett said, "I see your point, though I wonder if the 'Jewish lobby' is as important to American policymakers as purely strategic considerations."
Gripping Bennett's arm even harder, the king spoke in a soft, almost toneless voice. "I ask you, John Bennett. Can you build me a fighter force the equal of the Israelis'?"
There was a pause of nearly half a minute as Bennett gazed at the elegant candelabra on the table. Then, softly but clearly, he had said, "Given time, yes."
Now, reclining in bed, Bennett's thoughts turned from the evening's conversation to metaphysics. He was not much on classic literature but he was well read enough to draw a comparison. The potentially Faustian nature of his relationship with the Saudi king struck him with chilling intensity. So here you are, Bennett. Satan leans on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, tempting you with the best offer a fighter pilot ever had, or hoped to have. In exchange for... what?
Bennett inhaled and considered the prospects. To build a fighter force from the ground up, with a completely free hand. Select the people, draft the syllabus, choose the airplanes. And best of all, no bullshit, no bean-counters to answer to. Mold a completely professional organization along sound military principles unencumbered by ass-covering politicians and hand-wringing diplomats. It's hog heaven, Bennett, and you'd be belly-deep in slop, he thought.
The irony of the situation occurred to him. Perhaps it would take one of the world's underdeveloped nations to bring the jet fighter force to its highest development. A Muslim kingdom one-third the size of the United States, nine-tenths covered by barren plateau. The place didn't even have any rivers.
Over eleven million inhabitants populated this wide expanse, where still barely 30 percent of the total lived in cities. Though education was free, it was still widely ignored and the literacy rate only matched the ratio of the urban population. Life expectancy was under fifty years, and though Saudi Arabia was the world's second-largest oil producer, only 12 percent of the people worked in industry. Not much had changed since oil was found in the 1930s.
Bennett had researched the nation and the royal family before leaving San Diego. King Khalid ibn 'Abd al-'Aziz al-Sa'ud had succeeded to the throne in 1975 following old King Faisal's assassination by a nephew. The present monarch had inherited the throne in a tempestuous family political squabble. Bennett regarded Rahman as a man on a tightrope with no safety net. He walked a narrow line between the conservatives in his own country and the ambitious radicals outside.
The monarch was right about his military situation. The Saudis still could not maintain a large, sophisticated air force by themselves. There were too many foreign strings attached, there was too much political favoritism ingrained in the existing forces. What the king wanted was a band of professional mercenaries who owed him complete allegiance, free of external pressures.
It kept coming back to the Israelis. Match them, and the Saudis could master any other opponent in the region. Hell, man for man they'd master any other air force in the world.
The Israelis were the global standard. They knew von Clausewitz chapter and verse. They trained hard and they fought to win.
Bennett thought of his cousin Mike, an electronics specialist on the USS Liberty in 1967. The Israelis had torpedoed the intelligence-gathering ship with PT boats and strafed her with jet aircraft. Later they said it was a mistake. They'd thought she was an Egyptian vessel flying the American flag. Mike had lost a leg but thirty-four of his shipmates lost their lives. He was still bitter-as much at the Johnson Administration for accepting the Israeli version as at the Israelis themselves. When Liberty's captain was presented the Medal of Honor for his valor in remaining at the conn despite disabling wounds, the citation never even mentioned the identity of the "hostile torpedo boats and aircraft."
Mike's name for the attackers was specific and unprintable.
It came to Bennett in a sudden rush. He might have within his grasp a means of maintaining or even expanding American influence in the Middle East while perhaps preventing a recurrence of the cycle of disaster his country had experienced in the region. Liberty in 1967, Iran in 1979, Beirut, the Stark and Vincennes episodes during the 1980s. Each military crisis had resulted in unnecessary loss of American lives or a loss of prestige and confidence in American institutions. Now the Saudis, by seeking to strengthen their own hand, were offering him a chance to do more good for the United States than he ever had done while wearing an American uniform.
While on active duty Bennett had attempted to convince people in authority that the most important element in the fighter equation was the pilot; that a superior aviator usually will beat an inferior pilot, regardless of their respective aircraft. Superior equipment-within certain broad limits-only mattered at the top of the league, between evenly matched pilots.
It had been proven time and again, yet the decision makers of years before had opted for high-tech, highly "capable" aircraft that cost $25 to $40 million each. This, combined with an overriding concern with safety, actually led to a denigration of combat skill. Bennett thought of the Air Force colonel who said, "I'd hate to see an epitaph on a fighter pilot's tombstone that says, 'I told you I needed training.' How do you train for the most dangerous game in the world by being as safe as possible?" But the pilot was to become the lesser of the equation. Many budgeteers believed that computers and technology had rendered t
he human mind and hand obsolete. That was bad enough. But they also discounted the human heart.
Bennett fell asleep, feeling somewhat optimistic about prospects for "his" fighter force serving to enhance U. S. influence in the Middle East while perhaps deterring wider war. He slept fitfully until shortly before dawn, when he drifted into the deepest sleep phase. Usually he dreamed in those hours, though he seldom clearly remembered his dreams. Cynical about such things, he never attached any importance to them. But throughout his adult life one dream had recurred.
It had begun after an exchange program with the Marine Corps between tours in Vietnam. Bennett had ridden in the backseat of a Phantom on a night mission. But in the dream he seldom saw the evolution from the cockpit. It was as if he stood watching from an elevated platform as the attacking jet screamed down at him from the darkness. Sometimes the plane was an F -4, often a Skyhawk-usually delta-winged.
Bennett stood alone, watching the bright jet exhaust as the aircraft arced straight up, tossing its single bomb in a high parabola which was lost to sight in the night sky. He always remembered seeing and hearing the jet top out of its two-mile-high Immelmann turn, rolling right-side up and diving away until even the noise disappeared. The bomb never landed. Bennett wondered what would happen if the dream ever lasted to completion. He thought once or twice that if that happened, he might die….
A high-pitched sound woke Bennett with a start, an eerie wailing piercing his ears. Momentarily distracted, he felt for the familiar nightstand by his bed. It was not there. Then he rolled over a notepad and he remembered. He was a guest of the King of Saudi Arabia and had been sleeping in the palace. The startling sound was an imam's call to first prayer of the day, when a silver thread first becomes visible in the dark.
Bennett checked the luminous dial of his watch: 0530. He tried to sleep again, to no avail. Rolling on his back, he placed an arm over his eyes. Exhaling, he muttered one word. "Damn!"
* * *
Safad Fatah escorted Bennett to the ante-chamber before the morning meeting. The American learned that the men who had attended the previous day's conference would be present again. Entering the conference room, he was directed to a chair and the king entered moments later. All stood.
With a wave of his hand, Rahman spoke in English. "Be seated, gentlemen. This should not take long."
The king sat down and leaned forward, hands clasped on the polished table. "Gentlemen, last night at dinner Commander Bennett said that he believes what we propose can be done. Additionally, he received my assurance that we would not call upon him to jeopardize his American citizenship, nor his status as a retired U.S. officer. "
Looking around the table, lingering upon his two air generals, the monarch continued. "The self-defense force which Commander Bennett would establish would be administratively separate from our existing air force. In matters of acquisition, funding, and policy, I shall make the decision as to which organization is to have priority in specific matters. That must be understood by all."
The air force officers nodded solemnly. Bennett hoped the king's words would pave over any rough spots with the Royal Saudi Arabian Air Force-the Al Quwwat el Jawwiya Assa'udiya. To Bennett, one of the attractions of the king's offer was elimination of just such bureaucratic infighting.
The monarch turned to Bennett. "Commander, you have had some measure of time to contemplate the offer. Will you accept?"
Bennett inhaled. Here goes . "Your Majesty, this is the greatest challenge of my life. I believe that I understand what is necessary to build a first-rate fighter force. And I have the aircraft in mind, the Northrop F-20 Tigershark."
The two Saudi generals looked at one another in astonishment.
Bennett knew what was coming and quickly continued. "Sir, gentlemen, I believe I should explain my background and preferences. This may help you better understand how my opinions are formed.
"Most of my professional life, some three thousand hours, was spent in the Vought F-8 Crusader. It was a single-seat, single-engine fighter with mixed gun and heat-seeking missile armament. This configuration gave U.S. Navy pilots the highest kill-loss ratio of any aircraft employed in Vietnam. It is the configuration of most other successful fighters, from the F -86 in Korea up to the General Dynamics F-16 today. Because this type of fighter is relatively simple, it is reliable. You can fly more sorties per aircraft than most larger, more complex types. So it really doesn't matter how many aircraft you own, provided you can keep more than ninety percent of them flying all the time. At least, within rather broad limits. "
The king was intrigued. "I see. You would rather have six aircraft which fly nine-tenths of the time than ten aircraft which fly half the time."
"Exactly. It is better from an operational viewpoint, and from an economic one."
General Mustafa Halabi interjected. "Excuse me, Commander. But we already considered the F-20 and rejected it as little but an improved F-5. It did not meet our needs."
Bennett was ready. "Yes, sir, I'm aware of that fact. And with all respect to the Royal Saudi Air Force, I stand by my choice. The F-20 began life as the F-5G but in fact is a completely new airplane." Bennett was directing his remarks where they counted-to the king and the financiers. "It was not bought by the U.S. armed forces and therefore never had a fair comparison with its competition. But it has many virtues: some similarity with your existing F-5s, easy to fly and easy to maintain, plus it has outstanding sortie generation rates with very fast turnaround times between flights. Considering your criteria, I think it's exactly what you need: competitive but economical."
"Your Majesty." It was the economics minister, Aziz. He had not spoken before. "This makes elegant sense to me. With your permission, I shall investigate this matter." The king nodded.. "Mr. Bennett," Aziz continued, "how much would this F-20 cost us?"
"I believe, sir, the current price is around fifteen million U.S. dollars, about the same as the last production F-5s. But considering the current state of the American economy, well…" Bennett grinned. "Let us say, Mr. Minister, that you should find a buyer's market. "
Aziz returned the smile.
There's a horsetrader if ever I saw one, Bennett thought.
The king was intrigued by this exchange. "Very well. Mr. Aziz will make the necessary contacts immediately. Commander Bennett, you needn't concern yourself with acquisition. We shall bring you into the picture with the manufacturer at the appropriate time."
"Yes, sir. If I may add something. Although the F -20 has not been procured by any of the U. S. armed forces, a foreign manufacturing contract exists. It is my understanding that the parent company is producing subcomponents for a consortium in Europe and Asia. I am acquainted with one or two middle-level managers of this program. Have I your permission to see them on a personal basis to better familiarize myself with the aircraft? Naturally, I would make no mention of our plans."
Looking around the table for comment, the king saw none. "As you wish. Now then, Commander, how much time would be required before an air force such as we want could be made operational? You understand we have saved much time already by beginning construction of facilities in our country as well as Bahrain, and we have identified or recruited young men for pilot training as well as maintenance personnel and a cadre of instructors who would work for you."
"Your Majesty, it would probably be in excess of three years. The U.S. armed forces believe it takes five years to produce a combat-ready fighter pilot. But our syllabus can be streamlined to address only the matters that count. Also, I believe you can support more flying hours per month than most nations.
"However, even after that time it would still require experienced leaders to take the force into combat. Y our pilots would be as good as any in the world, and I believe they would fly perhaps the most formidable air superiority fighter ever produced. But leadership is the key." Bennett paused, knowing he was treading carefully across uncertain ground. "One possibility might be assignment of some experienced Saudi pil
ots to the F-20 program.”
The king looked at his air marshal. "That is something we can discuss later. Please continue."
Consulting his notes again, Bennett said, "Your Majesty, we would need about a hundred and fifty frontline fighter pilots. That means at the peak of our power approximately a hundred and thirty aircraft. Taking into account that we will have some peace-time attrition, we need to begin training with forty or fifty two-seat versions of the F-20. I think we would be looking at the purchase of some two hundred total aircraft over a five-year period. Existing F-5Fs, the two-seat Tiger II, could provide lead-in training."
General Halabi raised his hand. "Your Majesty, a question please." Turning to Bennett, the officer asked, "By lead-in training do you mean operational training, sir?"
"No, sir. The biggest time saving is a shortened course with elimination of standard training requiring transition to two or three aircraft. I propose weeding out the candidates with a twenty-hour course in light planes-Pipers or Cessnas. Those who pass go directly to the two-seat F-20B."
The air force chief stiffened. "Is that possible?"
Bennett pressed his point vigorously. He spoke louder than he intended. "Definitely, sir. I'll explain more fully when I return with the complete plan. But the advantages are considerable-cost saving, time saving, and greater proficiency in the combat aircraft." It was obvious to all that Bennett felt passionately about his proposal. "You see, the F-20 will not depart controlled flight under any but the most abnormal conditions."
The king interjected. "We can discuss these details later, gentlemen. For now, Commander Bennett, we know you must study this situation more. How long would it be until you can present a detailed analysis?"
"Your Majesty, I think I can wrap this up-complete the work-in under two months."
The king glanced around the room again. "Very well. Commander, what shall we pay you for this five-year service?"
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