"If they were Christian militia, that means Israeli support, doesn't it?"
"Yes. The Saudi investigators are convinced of it but they wouldn't discuss sources beyond the Beirut connection."
"Wow. Then the timing means-"
"The timing probably means the Israelis have planned preemptive strikes against airfields in reach of their Jordanian positions. That's how I see it. Decapitate Tiger Force and follow up with attacks into northern Arabia. But there's just one thing wrong with that. "
"Yeah," Lawrence interjected. "They haven't hit us."
"Right. And it's not like the Israelis to telegraph their punches."
"So what do you think?"
"There's another theory that the Yemenis might have been behind it-a revenge thing. But I'm inclined to think it was Israel-maybe an unauthorized operation of some sort. There might have just been a slip-up and the assassins hit too early. One of the investigators said there's evidence they waited outside my hotel for most of the day, maybe expecting to hit me in the street. They might have gotten tired of waiting and decided to come in shooting. "
Lawrence said, "What do you want to do about it, John?"
"I want to kill whoever's behind this. But I can't afford a vendetta." He took off his shoes. "I'm gonna turn in, take some sleeping pills, and get some rest. I'd like 001 ready for an I830 launch tomorrow. Can you set it up for me?"
"Sure thing. No problem." He slapped Bennett on the shoulder.
"Goodnight, pardner."
Walking to the operations office, Ed Lawrence knew exactly what his friend had in mind. "He's got a world of hurt inside him," the exec told Bear Barnes. "Now he wants to take it upstairs and leave some of it there."
Chapter 11
TEL AVIV, Sept.1-Israeli and Arab warplanes twice clashed over occupied Jordan today, in the largest Mideast air battle of recent years. As many as forty fighter jets may have been involved in the dogfights, resulting in the destruction of perhaps a dozen or more Syrian and Iraqi planes and an unspecified number of Israeli U.S.-built F-15s or F-16s.
Official accounts from Tel Aviv and Damascus were incomplete or contradictory, with no comment yet from Baghdad. However, military sources indicated that eight or nine Syrian MiGs were downed in the early-morning clash and four Iraqi jets about two hours later. Syrian spokesmen admitted that "a number" of their planes had not returned from a reconnaissance sweep over eastern Jordan, but claimed destruction of "several" Israeli warplanes. A carefully worded Israeli communique said that all its pilots were "accounted for" after each combat.
Unconfirmed reports stated that crippled Iraqi French-built Mirage fighters landed across the border in Saudi Arabia. Sources said it is unlikely the Saudis granted permission for such emergency landings, given Riyadh's effort to remain uninvolved in heightened tensions since Israel occupied most of Jordan more than three years ago.
Today's action was the first direct clash between Israeli and Arab aircraft since Tel Aviv's move into Jordan.
Bahrain
That afternoon the instructor pilots seated in the briefing room were more subdued than usual. They had been called to the meeting on short notice, and several still wore flight suits from their training flights. Tim Ottman and Bear Barnes speculated that the Saudis wished to renew their contracts. Others, like Geoff Hampton and Brad Williamson, adopted a wait-and-see attitude.
Lawrence and Bennett strode down the aisle and took the stage.
There was immediate quiet in the room. Bennett asked that the doors be locked, though this had never been done before.
"Gentlemen, good afternoon. I'm sorry to call you here on such short notice-I intended to do some flying myself." Bennett was dressed in his Nomex flight suit with the Tiger Force patch on the right side and the Tigershark patch sewn on one shoulder.
"Early this morning there were two large hassles over eastern Jordan. One involved Syrian MiG-23s and the other apparently had more MiGs plus Iraqi Mirages. We don't know the full story, but it seems to have been quite a shootout, with losses to the Israelis as well as the Arabs. It's suspected but not yet proven that Iranian pilots were involved in at least one of these incidents."
A murmur ran through the room.
"Evidently the first combat was the result of Syrian overflights of Jordan to assess Israeli strength and dispositions. This has happened before, but has never been answered with such a hostile reaction. What makes this morning's events of interest to us is the fact that at least two Iraqi aircraft entered Saudi airspace to avoid pursuit by the Israelis. One Mirage was shot down barely on our side of the border. The other, already battle-damaged, landed without permission at one of our advanced fields." He paused to allow the gravity of that news to sink in. ''This means we can expect attention from the Israelis almost anytime."
Bennett had expected a vocal response to this news. Instead, there was dead silence.
"I've been on the line to Riyadh several times since noon. This could well begin the direct involvement of Tiger Force, and all Saudi Arabia for that matter, in combat with the Israelis. They'll see our forward strips as a threat, offering assistance to other Arab aircraft. And they may decide to come after us, even though F-15s are patrolling the border to try and head off other Iraqi or Syrian intrusions.
"Consequently, I've reached an agreement with Safad Fatah and the Royal Saudi Air Force command. Each of you will be paid the balance of his existing contract, with a release from obligation to complete the tour, effective today. Mr. Fatah said to regard it as a bonus for a job well done." He paused, knowing that the audience awaited the other option.
"However… " Bennett let the word float for a moment, "if any of you should choose to remain with Tiger Force in the capacity of a planner or flight leader, you will be welcome. The legal implications will be explained in writing. I'm not saying you can have it all your own way because we don't know how the State Department might interpret it. But there's precedent which allows U.S. citizens to serve in the armed forces of foreign nations as long as those nations are not engaged in armed conflict with the United States. We don't have a full reading from London on this point-not yet."
Tim Ottman raised his hand. "Boss, what are you going to do?" Bennett had anticipated the question. And he had decided that he would hold his counsel, preferring each man to decide for himself rather than follow the CO's example. "I've not made up my mind yet. You should decide what you want to do without considering anybody else's decision."
Peter Saint-Martin asked, "How long do we have to decide?"
"Riyadh needs to know by noon, day after tomorrow. That means I'd like a written decision from each of you by 2100 hours tomorrow." He looked around. "See you then."
Bennett knew there would be many transatlantic phone calls in the next several hours. He and Lawrence had already gone down the list of remaining IPs. They identified three who almost certainly would stay, and perhaps three more. Lawrence was already committed.
"Don't act hastily, Ed. You ever think about going home and picking up things again?" Bennett already knew the answer.
"My God, John," Lawrence had replied, "don't you get it? There's a war just around the corner. I am home." After an uncomfortable silence Lawrence had asked, "What about you?"
Bennett stared at the floor momentarily, then leveled his gaze at the redhead. "I'm staying."
* * *
Next day at noon, well ahead of Fatah's dead-line, Bennett and Lawrence met with the three other IPs who had decided to stay. Bennett looked around the room, checking off the motivation and capability of each pilot.
He had known that Bear Barnes would stick, and he had been equally confident of Geoff Hampton. Brad Williamson, the former Thunderbird, was a surprise. Bennett knew that Williamson had a family in Ohio and could get a slot in a Reserve F-16 squadron without difficulty. Well, never mind, Bennett thought. Maybe he needs the extra money.
Bennett went over the pertinent federal laws, just to reinforce the Americans' legal status.
"According to Title Thirty-seven U. S. Code, Section Nine-oh-eight, Subsection A, Congress consents to retired members of the armed forces and members of the reserves-that's us-being employed by foreign governments provided the Secretary of State approves such employment. We're already covered, since State approved the Saudis' original request for us under this provision. We are acting on the assumption that as long as we don't hold military rank, we're not in violation. Technically we're civilian employees advising the Saudi government, despite any honorary titles. Whether we're called to account later on is uncertain."
Bear Barnes spoke everyone's mind. "With what the Saudis are paying, it doesn't much matter." There were nods of assent all around.
Bennett glanced around the room. "Bear is remaining as head of Tiger Force operations. As such he'll remain here, but may fly out to the staging bases as necessary. I'll be here part-time, spending the rest of my time at the fields and coordinating with Riyadh. Ed, that means that you, Brad, and Geoff will be de facto squadron commanders, but operationally you'll be flight leaders."
The exec stood up. "Suits me fine. I want to take two flights from Black Squadron out to the strip where the Mirage landed. If there's any activity tomorrow or the next day, it'll be there."
Bennett looked up at the eager redhead. "All right. Coordinate your departure with Bear. Geoff and Brad, you're with White and Red squadrons, respectively. Rajid has taken over Orange and Ahnas Menaf fleeted up from IP to lead Green. Former F-5 COs are running Blue, Yellow, and Pink. Rajid and Ahnas are good flight leaders-that's the biggest step on the road to command, as you guys well know. But when you're working with them keep an eye open. They have a hell of a lot to learn in a short time. "
Lawrence strode toward the door. "I'm gone. Good hunting, guys. Bear, I'll check in regularly."
Bennett was mildly upset with his friend's hasty departure. But there were other matters to attend to. "Bear, I'd like you to schedule a meeting with the two of us and the maintenance folks sometime tomorrow afternoon. We'll probably receive some of the birds from Turkey and Morocco before this is over, and I expect they'll have a lot of deferred maintenance."
That evening, before going to bed, Bennett looked up Tim Ottman. They sat in Ottman's room for half an hour, and the instructor thought that Bennett seemed even more withdrawn than when he had returned from Riyadh and Claudia's death. At length Bennett produced a thick folder from his briefcase. He handed the manila envelope to Ottman.
"I'd like you to take this back with you," Bennett said. "It's a summary I've compiled of our training syllabus, selection process, academics and flight grades, and debriefs on the combat down by the border."
Ottman's eyebrows went up. Flipping through the pages, he asked, "Anybody's name in here I might recognize?"
Bennett gave a tight grin. "No, nobody's names. Your secret is safe. What I want to do is ask you a favor, Tim. Sometime, when this is all done, I know goddam well that the managers and bean-counters will return to form. They'll start talking complexity and sophistication again. They'll come up with buzzwords like 'self-escorting' and try to make one airplane do everything.
"Well, you know and I know that it can't work. You build a thirty-five-million-dollar airplane that'll fight air-to-air and drop bombs, but the pilot doesn't have enough time or funding to train for both jobs equally well. He gets jumped inbound to the target, has to jettison his ordnance to survive, and even if he bags one or two MiGs, the opposition has won. Our guy is prevented from bombing his target."
Ottman said, "Boss, you're preaching to the converted."
"Old habit of mine." Bennett tapped his fingers together, as if in time to an imaginary tune. "Look, what I want you to do is hang onto this file. Put it away somewhere safe, make a duplicate copy. Then someday, when I'm gone and they start pushing more complex birds on the guys, you can show them in black and white what we've done. Our doctrine works, our training works, and our airplane works. I tell you, Tim, I'd give anything I have left to fly the 20 in combat. But that's not my job." He paused to catch his breath. Ottman noted with surprise that Bennett's eyes were misting. "Will you do that for me, Tim?"
Ottman extended his hand. "Count on it, Skipper." Bennett gripped the proffered hand, then was gone.
Tim Ottman had trouble getting to sleep that night. Bennett's phraseology worried him. When I'm gone. Anything I have left. Though he was not a religious man, Ottman said a short prayer. He asked that John Bennett find peace of mind.
Northern Arabia, 3 September,
0735 Hours
Early next morning two Israeli RF-4C Phantoms streaked south-east across the Jordanian border into Saudi airspace. The reconnaissance aircraft had orders to photograph several of the advanced airfields now that Saudi F-l5Ss no longer were flying standing patrols. The Eagles' replacement by Tigersharks was not yet known to the Israelis.
Still, this was to be a quick mission-in and out in minimum time, minimum exposure. One pass at each target, taking oblique photos to evaluate the type and nationality of aircraft on each field.
Assigned to each recce bird was a four-plane flight of F-l5s.
Trailing the RF-4s at two miles, one flight of Eagles crisscrossed 10,000 feet above the Phantoms, which would make their runs at 8,000. The other Eagle flight was deployed by sections, one upsun of the RF -4s, the other on the opposite side.
Saudi radar had tracked both flights over Jordan before they crossed the border. Reaction time had been calculated by the Israeli planners, who estimated the Saudis could not intercept before the photos were obtained and the mission was egressing back into Jordan. But from the moment of radar warning, Tiger Force had sprung into action.
A call to Black Base had Ed Lawrence's squadron airborne less than two minutes after the alert sounded.
Lawrence flung his second section out to his left at a range of six miles and sharply banked his own fighter to the northwest. Streaking across the barren desert at 2,000 feet, his wingman was in right-hand loose deuce at a mile and a half. Up to his left at 4,000 was his second flight. Lawrence had decided to keep his planes low even though the F-15 had a good lookdown-shootdown capability.
He gambled the Eagles would rely on ground-based radar in this limited-war scenario, hoping to surprise any Saudi pilots searching for airborne emitters-because "That's what I'd do in their shoes."
Lawrence pumped his control stick slightly, inducing an up-and-down motion of his nose, and four pairs of hands activated armament switches. Lawrence armed his left-hand Sidewinder and moved his gun selector to CHARGE. A reassuring hard thump reverberated through his Tigershark as 20mm rounds were driven into the chambers of his two M39 cannons.
Ed Lawrence still had twenty-fifteen vision, and at twenty-five miles he saw the flicker of sunlight from a canopy. Moments later he made out the distinctive smoke trails of the closest Phantom's twin engines with the range down to ten miles. Briefly he wished he had been able to deploy his other two flights to circle behind the Israelis and cut them off. But there was too much sky to cover all the possibilities. He put the idea out of mind and prepared to engage.
Black Lead made a slight right turn to offset and, at five miles, pulled hard in a climbing left turn. Belatedly, the Israelis visually acquired the second section and started a nose-down hard left turn. Lawrence keyed his mike, partly from long habit from hundreds of mock combats, partly to give the familiar call for morale's sake:
"Fight's on!"
The exec put his gunsight reticle on the lead Eagle. Tiger Force had adopted a West German non-radar sight, capable of switching from the standard 30-mil circle-and-center pipper to the funnel-shaped sight he now used. Both were gyro-stabilized to provide lead computation, and Lawrence selected the latter, wide at the top for minimum range and narrow at the bottom of the funnel to indicate maximum range on a standard-sized tactical aircraft.
When the Eagle's forty-three-foot wingspan filled the narrow portion of the reticle, Lawrence fired his port Sidewinder. The AIM-9
streaked off the rail and headed for the big McDonnell Douglas fighter from the one o'clock position. Lawrence's minor angle advantage from his first turn was not decisive, but it was a start.
The Eagle, already in afterburner, pulled up abruptly to defeat the missile. Lawrence used the seconds thus gained to pitch up, roll almost 180 degrees, and follow the maneuver from his opponent's belly side. Invisible to the Israeli pilot, Lawrence allowed himself to drop back slightly in a lag pursuit. When the Eagle pulled over the top, the Tigershark was 1,500 feet astern at five o'clock.
Lawrence heard his wingman, Badir Qurat, call, "You're clear," and accepted the estimate as a matter of faith. He rolled out, momentarily at normal G with wings nearly level, and pressed the trigger.
"Guns!"
The big shells, three-quarters of an inch in diameter, hammered into the twin-tailed fighter from almost directly astern. Pieces flew off the wing and fuselage as the Israeli rolled inverted and pulled into a six-G split-S. Lawrence was right behind, hearing the voice of his wingman under heavy G, almost unintelligible. Lawrence estimated that the young Saudi was engaged with an Eagle himself.
What would I do in this guy's position? Lawrence asked himself.
He came off the throttle and pulled up briefly, then pitched back down to regain his spacing. Sure enough, the F-15's huge speed brake behind the cockpit was deployed and the orange-white glow of the afterburners was gone. The Israeli had tried to force an overshoot. But now, with reduced energy the Eagle could not shake the F-20 locked firmly at its six o'clock. Lawrence placed his gunsight carefully and, in the minimum time available, triggered another burst.
Mortally hit, the Eagle rolled violently and the canopy came off.
Out came the seat as the pilot ejected.
Lawrence took no time to savor his victory-he had done this before. Instead, he blinked the sweat from his eyes, checked his tail, and selected afterburner. In the F404 engine's tailpipe raw fuel was sprayed into the red-hot exhaust gases from the main engine and reignited. The normal 2,300 pounds per hour fuel flow which produced 450 knots airspeed rocketed to 60,000 pounds per hour-enough to propel the jet at Mach 1.3. But Lawrence wanted acceleration more than pure speed; he remained nose-level long enough to regain his energy state, then pulled up to rejoin his wingman.
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