“The British want to strike back at the extremists who they think orchestrated this nuclear blackmail,” Ed DeWitt said.
Don Stroh looked at him with a jolt of surprise. “Ed, how could you know something like that? You’re right to a degree. That’s the general idea; however, they want to go about six steps farther. The Brits are furious with the terrorists and want to annihilate the three or four elements of the Arab extremist movement that have been causing the world so much trouble over the past forty years. They want to blast them into hell, to ruin them so completely and so thoroughly that they never will be able to reorganize or ever have any power again.
“The President told my boss that he didn’t have any real objection to a payback strike, something to tell the extremists that we know what they did and we want to hurt them. He is worried about taking it the next few steps, in effect conducting a war of attrition against the various Muslim hate groups. They include the Arafat Palestinians, the Fatah movement in Ramallah on the West Bank, and even the Mohammad Medein originally thought to be active only in Chechnya and Dagestan. Plus Hamas, the Shiite Muslim Hezbollah, and even the London-based Al-Muhjiroun. Now it is believed the Medein had a major hand in the bombing of the destroyer Cole in Yemen, where those seventeen U.S. sailors were killed and the billion-dollar state-of-the-art missile destroyer was seriously damaged and put into a repair dock for a year.”
“Just the U.S. and the Brits would be in this?” Murdock asked.
“Oh, no, in fact we would be junior partners. The main cog in the machinery would be Israel, who has the most to lose here and the most to gain.”
“The West Bank and the Gaza Strip,” DeWitt said.
“What are the Brits planning?” Murdock asked.
“We’re not sure. They haven’t told us. We know that once this story of the nuclear blackmail breaks, it will be documented within an inch of its life. There will be pictures of the dead Arabs, the complete scenario of what happened. The dead Arabs and the two who were caught alive will be tied to certain terrorist organizations by the British right up front. Once the story breaks, Britain will hit them quickly. We think it will be an air strike that will pulverize certain known headquarters. Beyond that, we have no idea what their plans might be.”
“What is Israel saying?” DeWitt asked.
“We know they are planning something, but we don’t know what. They have strongly urged that we should handle it on a triad basis, sharing equally in the planning, financing, and personnel. They have been feeling out our people on the idea. It would be scalpel-clean; it would be pinpointed at certain headquarters and people. It would be continuing until those involved in terrorism were blown off the face of the Middle East.”
“What about the U.S. no-assassination rule?” DeWitt asked.
“Technically these would not be assassinations. They would be military strikes in response to warlike activities by the enemy.”
“But we don’t want to take a reinforced regiment into the Gaza Strip to take down Arafat’s headquarters and his summer house?”
“Precisely. These strikes would be anonymous. There would be no footprints left or equipment lost to identify any of the attackers. No personnel would be left in the field, dead, wounded, or alive. It would be clean, probably not quick, and would take a lot of resources.”
“Do you think Washington will take on a job like this?”
“In view of the destroyer Cole, there is a certain feeling in the air that there should have been a response long before now. From what I hear, we were just not sure enough of the terrorists to tie them down to a nation and a headquarters we could pulverize with a response.”
“Any timetable?” DeWitt asked.
“None, but it has to be soon. Britain has been putting together a response since the start of the nuke threat. They have a plan by now, and are tying down the country and the area to hit. Israel isn’t that far along yet, but they have contingency plans for all kinds of retaliation against a number of targets.”
“So, Uncle Sam is the holdup here, dragging his size-sixteen feet,” Murdock said.
“As I hear it. A decision is due to come down within the next two days.” He paused. “Any wounds or injuries during the current bit of training maneuvers?”
“Well put, Stroh. We didn’t have much to do. No serious physical problems that I’ve heard about.”
“We’re solid and ready to go,” DeWitt said.
“I’d say we’re in for some training during the next two days,” Murdock said. “No firing, but we can do a lot of roadwork.”
“Can we tell the men what’s brewing?” DeWitt asked.
Don Stroh took a drink of coffee and pushed it away. “Not this time. This is more than top secret. If it doesn’t come off, we might talk about what might have been. If it happens, they men will know soon enough, and they always understand anything they do has to be top secret.”
“Fair enough,” Murdock said. “As long as you’re picking up the check here. You know we don’t travel with any money.”
Stroh looked at Murdock and snorted. “Don’t I always. When are we going fishing again? I’d even settle for some bottom fish, some sculpin, rock cod, and a few mackerel.”
“As soon as we hit Coronado I’ll give you the fishing report,” Ed DeWitt said. “Come out anytime you’re free. There’s always something to catch around the kelp beds off San Diego.”
* * *
For the first day, the SEALs used the temporary quarters and made a fifteen-mile run through the immediate area. They saw a lot of this semirural part of England up close and intensely personal. The locals had evidently seen a lot of military around, since they hardly glanced at the SEALs as they went jogging down the narrow English roads.
The second day, they did a ten-mile run in the morning with full combat gear except for the Draegrs. In the afternoon it was another ten-mile jaunt with only their cammies and primary weapons. They all chose the MP-5.
That evening, Don Stroh came into the barracks and waved at the SEALs. They hurried up around him and he gave them a tired smile.
“I’ve been up for almost thirty-six hours mother-henning this project, and I’m tired as hell, so no cracks and no comments,” Strohl said. “You have an assignment. A general assignment but with no actual action involved, yet. Tomorrow morning at 0800 you will board a British military transport jet and you will be flown to Tel Aviv, Israel, where you will quartered at an Israeli Army facility pending further orders.”
“Hey, Stroh, we gonna kick ass on some of them fucking A-rab terrorists who brought over the bomb?” Lapedusa asked.
“I’d say that’s a possibility,” Stroh said. “You’ll have to wait and see what your orders say.”
Tel Aviv, Israel
The SEALs’ quarters in Israel were much like those in Britain, a twenty-man barracks with an attached common room for gear and meetings, and a small dayroom with Ping-Pong and pool tables. They would eat at the general mess about a block away. The Army post had heavy security all around, and the interior guards carried loaded weapons.
Don Stroh was there to meet them at the military airport and rode with them on the bus to the Army post just north of Tel Aviv. He gave them some facts about the country as they rolled along.
“Israel is a small nation of not quite six million people, which is about the population of the state of Missouri. Israel has a land mass of a little over eight thousand square miles, which is the same size as New Jersey. It’s a fairly new nation, being created by the United Nations when it partitioned Palestine into Jewish and Arab states in 1948. The Arab nations have never recognized the partition, and have been at war with Israel almost constantly from that date to this.
“Israel is surrounded on three sides by mostly belligerent Arab nations many times its size. For example, Syria has sixteen million people, Lebanon has four million, and Jordan has five million, for a total of twenty-five million Arabs who are for the most part belligerent and would like nothing
better than to drive all Jews into the Mediterranean Sea. Egypt, on Israel’s southern border, is less belligerent and sometimes almost friendly, but Egypt has a population of sixty-nine million people. You can see why Israel can be paranoid at times.”
“We’re not here to fight all those different countries, are we?” Mahanani asked.
“Absolutely not. If this goes down, it will not be a war against a nation; it will be one or more strikes against certain terrorist organizations that have preyed on Israel and many other parts of the world, including the United States.”
* * *
The SEALs had been in the barracks for almost a day. They had cleaned and oiled their weapons twice, been on a five-mile warming-up march around the perimeter of the base, and had two excellent meals.
The call came at 1000 for a meeting. Don Stroh brought the message.
“Only three of you can go,” Stroh said. “It’s a planning session and to get some areas of concern ironed out.”
Murdock looked at his men. He pointed to DeWitt and Jaybird. They went in the military sedan Stroh had commandeered, and rode to the headquarters building. This was an Israeli Army post and well manned. Murdock guessed at least two regiments must be posted here. The GHQ was large but businesslike. They were ushered into a conference room that had a huge table with eighteen chairs around it. Each place had a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen, a glass of water and two pieces of chocolate fudge.
Twelve men sat at the table. Murdock and his team came in, followed closely by three men Murdock recognized as being British SAS, wearing their famous beige berets with the winged dagger on them. They kept their berets on, but the rest of the men were uncovered. All wore versions of desert cammies.
A man at the end of the oval table stood when the last six were seated.
“Good, we’re all here. I am Colonel Assaf Ben-Ami with the Israeli Army Department and I’ll lead the discussion. We all know why we are here. I’m pleased with the three-nation cooperation on this project. We have the SAS delegation from England. We have the U.S. Navy SEALs here. We have also the Israeli Special Forces from the Air Force, the Navy, and the Army. We welcome all of you. We are here to talk about our first strike against the terrorists. The diplomats have had a hand in our negotiations. They have stipulated that our first action will be on the Gaza Strip, at Gaza City, and concentrating on the headquarters of al Fatah and its military wing, Tanzim.
“The HQ of these groups is the same as that of their parent group, the Palestine Liberation Organization, which is directed by Yassir Arafat. Our first target will be the seashore headquarters of Arafat and the PLO. This is in the form of a mission assigned by our governments and is not open to discussion.
“Beyond that point everything is open. It has been suggested that the strike come as soon as possible. I know that all of our organizations are used to working rapidly, and I suggest we do so now. We’ll start by opening the floor to methods for reducing this target.” He looked at a man halfway down the table, who stood. “Yes?”
“Sir, one way would be to use a Naval bombardment. We can use guided rounds with good accuracy. A Naval action would be without risk to manpower, could be done quickly and with massive destructive power.”
Another man stood. “Sir, we could drop twenty SAS men by parachutes onto the beach in a silent attack. Surround the HQ and on signal use grenades and explosives and take over the building in five minutes. Then we would clean up, use explosives on any remaining structures, and egress into the water for a small-boat pickup.”
“How big is this headquarters building?” someone asked.
“As I understand it from looking at intelligence photos,” said Ben-Ami, “it’s three stories in parts, two in others, with side structures as well. So it’s going to take a massive attack to knock down a building that size.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“Any comment on the Naval attack?” the colonel asked.
“Too much chance for error,” one Britisher said. “We want this to be a scalpel operation, with pinpoint accuracy, so we don’t kill any civilians or blow up their houses.”
Several men nodded and some said yes.
The SAS man stood again. “Sounds like it’s too big a target for us to destroy. We could take out the personnel, but not the whole building without a lot of extra charges.”
Murdock recognized the men from the Israeli Special Forces units. There were four of them at their end of the table. None showed any sign of rank. All were young and lean with short haircuts and intense faces.
“So how do we attack this seaside villa?” the colonel asked. “The PLO headquarters is well known. We’ve hit it before. This time our mission is to totally demolish it and to waste as many of the upper-echelon leaders as possible. Any more suggestions?”
“Yes,” a tall, slender man with blue Israeli Air Force tabs on his shirt said. “I’d suggest an attack by four aircraft using laser-aimed air-to-ground missiles. That should do the job.”
“As a good start,” Murdock said. “Within two minutes after the missile strike there should be a landing party moving into what’s left of the building eliminating any surviving or wounded personnel, setting charges to reduce the structures to a three-foot level, then egress to sea for pickup by boat well out of range of shore fire.”
“How could the timing be kept down to two minutes?” the Air Force man asked.
“Position sixteen SEALs fifty yards off shore in underwater rebreathing gear,” Murdock said. “When the first missiles hit, the sixteen swim hard for shore, drop their rebreathers, and charge into the HQ within two minutes after the last missile explodes.”
“Yes,” another Israeli said. “Our underwater units can do the same thing. It’s a good plan.”
“A thirty-two-man attack force including the Israelis would make it easier,” Murdock said. “Some for security in a perimeter, some to do the blasting and cleanup.”
“We have the rebreathers?” the leader asked.
“Yes, Colonel, we use them all the time,” the Israeli UDT man said.
“One complication,” a British SAS man said. “We understand this is not a one-structure HQ. There are at least six smaller buildings mixed in with the civilian population residences within two blocks of the main unit. We have them pinpointed and identified beyond all doubt. Mossad has confirmed the units.”
“So, we have a wider target,” the colonel said. “Any suggestions on these units?”
There was a moment of silence. The SAS man spoke again.
“Colonel, if the attack comes at night, we could have a low-profile insertion boat a quarter of a mile offshore. When we know the jets are making their firing run, we charge at full throttle into the beach and put thirty men on the sand within three or four minutes after the missiles hit. We then split into six teams and charge to the targets, putting five men on each building. We blast in the front doors and clear the building of all terrorists, then set charges and leave incendiaries to go off after the blast. This turns the rest of the rubble into ashes.”
The colonel nodded. “And what of PLO personnel found in the six organization buildings?”
“They would be eliminated,” the SAS man said.
The colonel looked around the table. “The plan sounds good. It takes a minimum of synchronized work dependent on another unit. It puts the manpower where it can best be used. Now, any other ideas how to get at the HQ building?”
“We could send teams of sappers in through the surf after dark,” one of the Israelis said. “Take out the sentries and blow up the place. We wouldn’t have enough personnel to clear the building.”
“We could drive a remote-controlled truck filled with explosives against the side of the GHQ,” Jaybird said. “But then that would take a week to set up, and get the explosives on site and the radio control for the truck. Forget it.”
The colonel looked over the group again. “I think we have a good plan with the Israeli jets and their missiles. They
may need more than four; we’ll let their planners figure that out. Then the SEALs and the SAS hit the beach. Egress will be by the same SAS boat if it can maintain its position, and the SEALs would be picked up offshore after a swim. Now timing.
“I can get the Air Force to make this hit with four hours notice. SEALs, what kind of lead time do you need?”
“We’ll need to arrange with the Israeli Navy for a boat to carry sixteen SEALs to within a quarter of a mile of the target. Navy?”
“Our regular patrol boats can do the job. It’s now about 1100. They patrol near Gaza every three or four hours. It’s routine and would bring no alarm. We have units at Ashdod south of here, which is only twenty miles from Gaza City. They can do twenty knots, so it’s a little over two hours from Ashdod to the insertion area. We can also move the SAS men via the same patrol boats.”
“Both the SEALs and SAS men can be flown by chopper from here to Ashdod,” the Israeli Air Force man said.
Colonel Ben-Ami smiled for the first time. “Yes, it’s coming together. What time should the attack come?”
“0200,” one of the SAS men said. “Their people will be asleep, their guards will be getting tired, and it gives us plenty of darkness to get into position.”
Colonel Ben-Ami looked at Murdock. “SEALs?”
“Fine. All we need is more ammo and charges and the Air Force to get us down the coast.”
“SAS?” the colonel asked.
“Plenty of time, sir. We like to move quickly. We will want extra ordnance if it can be supplied.”
“Ordnance is no problem,” one of the Israeli Special Forces men said. “Both of you see me as soon as we’re done here.”
“Good,” Colonel Ben-Ami said. “I’ll make the contact with the Air Force and get clearance for the attack and the choppers for transport. Moshe, you handle the Navy. Be sure those patrol boats are big enough to haul the needed men. We’ll meet back here at 1400 to see that all of the details have been worked out. The choppers will be here by then to fly the forty-six men to Ashdod. That’s all, gentlemen.” The colonel stood, and the men around the table jolted to attention while he walked out.
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