by Tom Clancy
During these months of captivity, Mugniyah would from time to time force the hostages to read statements aimed at the release of the seventeen terrorists imprisoned in Kuwait. The statements were videotaped and then shown over television.
When this failed to produce results, Mugniyah and his Hezbollah terrorist friends hijacked a Kuwaiti airliner flying to Iran. This also failed to budge the Kuwaitis.
Meanwhile, Buckley’s kidnapping had become a major CIA concern. Not long after his capture, his agents either vanished or were killed. It was clear that his captors had tortured him into revealing the network of agents he had established—the source for most of our intelligence on the various factions in Beirut. It’s thought that the Jihad eventually killed him. The United States had once again lost its primary intelligence sources in Beirut, making it even more dangerous for the Americans remaining behind.
I left Beirut in late May 1984 and returned to an assignment in the Pentagon. Saying goodbye to General Tannous, Ambassador Bartholomew, and Ambassador Rumsfeld21 was one of the toughest challenges I have faced. 1 respected them for their tireless work to bring peace to Beirut—but it was just not to be. For my part, I hated to leave. Though it had been a professionally rewarding experience, and I had learned much that would stay with me, it was the first challenge in my military career that I had failed to complete to my satisfaction.
As I stood on top of the hill at the helipad waiting for the Blackhawk from Cyprus, my thoughts and prayers were for those I was leaving behind.
BY October 1985, when the hostages from the hijacking of TWA 847 were released in Damascus, nine Americans had been kidnapped and held hostage by Mugniyah. But of these, only six remained: Bill Buckley was dead; Regier had been set free by the Shiite militia; and Jeremy Levin had escaped to the Syrians. The six remaining hostages had been in captivity for better than a year and a hall—a very long time.
We wanted them back, very badly.
When I left Beirut, never did I imagine that I would return again. But in September 1985, I found myself with a Special Operations Task Force at a location in the eastern Mediterranean, prepared for a hostage rescue attempt. We had intelligence information indicating there might be a release of all the hostages. My orders were to set up a mechanism for their pickup and covert return to the United States. We were also prepared for a rescue operation, in case something went wrong.
We did not know the actual release point, except that it would be somewhere in the vicinity of the American University in West Beirut.
At midnight on September 14, 1985, the streets were vacant near the American University. A car pulled up, the back door opened, and a man got out dressed in a running suit. The car sped away. The man was picked up by one of our operators, brought to a predesignated point on the beach, the proper code signal was sent by the operator, and a helicopter picked the two of them up and brought them back to an aircraft carrier over the horizon. When the helicopter landed, the Special Forces operator announced, “This is the Reverend Weir.”
Reverend Benjamin Weir, an American missionary, had been held captive for sixteen months by the Shiite Muslims. Weir was fed a hot meal in the Admirals’ Mess, then taken to the hospital bay in the belly of the ship, where he was given a complete physical examination (he was in remarkably good shape considering what he had been through) and held for the next three days while we waited for the release of more hostages.
When he was picked up, he had with him notes from other hostages for their families and a message from his captors for personal delivery to President Reagan. We did not look at any of these messages.
Three days later, the deal for the release of the other hostages had failed to materialize, and we were told to return Reverend Weir to the United States. Reverend Weir, dressed in a flight suit, was flown to a location elsewhere, where a C-141 was waiting to return him to Andrews Air Force Base.
Some months after that, the intelligence community located the building in West Beirut where the hostages were being held, and described it in sufficient detail to allow us to locate a similar building in the western United States. We modified this building to mirror the Beirut buildings interior, a rescue force rehearsed the mission, and an infrastructure was established in West Beirut to support the operation.
Then disaster hit.
Two weeks before the planned launch of the rescue attempt, the Hezbollah uncovered one of the agents with access to the building; he was tortured and killed. Before he died, he revealed the names of the other agents involved, who were also killed. It was assumed then that the hostages would be split up in various locations, and so the rescue attempt was scratched. There was never again sufficient credible intelligence to support a rescue attempt, but eventually the hostages were released.
BECAUSE such anarchic violence is blessedly beyond most Americans’ experience, my countrymen seem to have had a hard time grasping the complexities that led to the factional fighting and ultimately to the destruction of Beirut. Maybe this story will bring additional insight:
In December 1983, as Colonel Tom Fintel was nearing the end of his tour as chief of office of military cooperation, General Tannous arranged a going-away ceremony, complete to the presentation of a Lebanese medal on behalf of President Gemayel.
Sporadic artillery fire made an outside ceremony unsafe, so Tannous decided to hold the ceremony in an officers’ club on the top floor of the Ministry of Defense, overlooking the city. Only principal staff officers and brigade commanders were invited, along with wives, but wives were not expected to show up, because of the risk.
To my surprise, two wives—Christians—actually braved the shelling to attend.
I’d never met them before, but as soon as they entered the room, they came straight to me. Without even introducing themselves, one brought her face close to mine: “Why don’t you do something about this shelling that’s killing our children?” she practically cried. “You’ve got all those ships sitting out there, with aircraft carriers. Bomb the heathens that are destroying us.”
“We can’t do that,” I said. “The people who are shooting and shelling arc also Lebanese citizens. This is a Lebanese problem, and it has to be worked out by Lebanese.”
They came back at me with fire in their eyes. “They arc not Lebanese citizens!” one said. “They are nothing! They don’t even have a soul.”
“We teach our children that they are born with a little black tail,” the other said. “And it is their duty to kill them, pull their pants down and hack it off!”
Lebanon’s wounds are cut deep. Healing that agony may require as many generations as it took to create it.
Two days after this ceremony, the Ministry of Defense was hit by an artillery barrage that destroyed the officers’ club.
AND less than two years later, I was on my way to Sicily to deal with another hostage-taking, this time aboard the Achille Lauro....
IX
THE ACHILLE LAURO STRIKE
Carl Stiner resumes the account begun in the first chapter. It is Tuesday, October 8th, at the Sigonella NATO Base, Sicily:
As soon as we arrived in Sigonella early Tuesday morning, we began refucling the planes, but we would not take off until later that day, since we had to time our departure to arrive at about dusk at Cyprus (Cyprus would provide us with coverage of the eastern Mediterranean, and a base for the takedown of the ship, if that proved feasible). Meanwhile, we off-loaded the small contingent of SEALs and the two Little Bird gunships that would remain at Sigonella.
This ground delay proved useful, since it gave me my first opportunity during the mission to talk to my commanders face to face. We had lifted off from three bases in three states, assembled en route, and landed sequentially. Now, on the ground at Sigonella, I held a commanders’ conference to talk about conducting the operation.
There were blessedly only three possible scenarios:First scenario: The ship remains on the high seas and in the vicinity of Cyprus. In that case, we could reach it from t
here and wouldn’t need Navy platforms (ships) for staging and recovering our helicopters. Of the three scenarios, this would be the least complex for us, and would offer us the best conditions for success, since the terrorists wouldn’t have a sanctuary, such as, for example, Iran, Libya, or Algeria.
Second scenario: The ship finds a port somewhere. In this case our operation would be easy or hard depending on the cooperation of the host country. Yet, even if the host country consented to our operation, surprise would be difficult to achieve; we would have to be concerned about the territorial waters issue, and perhaps we’d have local police or military forces to deal with.
Third scenario: The ship sails beyond the recovery range of our helicopters. In that case, we would need Navy platforms for recovery of our helicopters after our initial assault.
After the conference, I communicated these options to the Pentagon and USEUCOM. Then I talked with the U.S. commander at Sigonella, Bill Spearman, to find out if he had learned anything useful from his Italian counterparts, such as the Italian base commander. We also talked about support I might need when we returned. I knew this was prudent but, at the time, I was convinced it was unnecessary. We were focused on a takedown at sea and never imagined that the action would end up (as it did) back at Sigonella. In any event, I asked Bill to take care of my troops who’d remain at Sigonella and promised to keep in touch through my liaison team there.
By afternoon we had reached our window for reaching Cyprus at dusk. Before boarding the plane, I decided to check with Vice Admiral Moreau (whom Admiral Crowe had designated to work the details and to keep him informed) about what was going on in Washington, to find out if we were cleared into the military base on Cyprus, and to update him on our planning options for the takedown. I did this on the SATCOM, which my radio operator carried (he was always by my side).
Moreau had three messages: Efforts to locate the Achille Lauro were continuing, and the Israelis had been asked to help. The decision had been made to take the ship down; I would receive the “Execute Order” soon. And approval had been granted by “our friends to use Cyprus.22 That had been expected, but it was good to know.
“We’re launching now,” I told him, “and are scheduled to arrive by dusk. If the ship can be found today, and it’s within range of our helicopters, we might be able to do a takedown before daylight”
“Sounds good,” he replied. “I’ll pass it on.”
Next I decided to check with my liaison officer in Rome. 1 was glad to learn that he had established contact with Ambassador Rabb and was operating from the U.S. embassy. All the pieces were moving into place.
I boarded the plane and we launched. This involved staggering our launch times, which in turn allowed us to sequence our landing in order to accommodate the available ramp space at our destination. No more than four C-141s and two C-5s could be on the ground off-loading at any one time.
ON BOARD THE ACHILLE LAURO
The Achille Lauro had set sail from its home port in Genoa, Italy, on October 3, 1985, with 750 passengers on board, for a seven-day voyage that would include a visit to Ashod, Israel. Most of the crew of 344 were Italian, while the passengers were an international mix of travelers.
On the morning of Monday, October 7, the 633-foot liner had docked at Alexandria, Egypt, to let off passengers who wanted to tour the Pyramids. The ship would loiter off the coast of Egypt and then come back that evening to pick up the passengers at Port Said before continuing the voyage to Israel.
Most of the ninety-seven passengers who had elected to stay behind were too elderly or infirm for a rigorous day among the antiquities. Among these was the sixty-nine-year-old Leon Klinghoffer, wheelchair-bound after two strokes. Klinghoffer was accompanied by his fifty-eight-year-old wife, Marilyn. There were ten other Americans.
During lunch, a pair of Arab-looking men burst into the dining room, firing machine guns in the air. Moments later, the passengers were all flat on the dining-room floor.
When they heard this commotion, the officers standing watch on the bridge were able to send the distress signal that the ship was being hijacked. This was the message received in Göteborg, Sweden, that had been monitored.
As all this was happening, two other Arab-looking terrorists were taking over the bridge. When the ship’s captain, Gerardo de Rosa, arrived, the terrorist leader, Majed Molqi, ordered him to put the ship into radio silence and head for the Syrian port, Tartus, which was four-hundred miles away—punctuating his demand with a burst of machine-gun fire into the deck. Syria was a haven for terrorists, and Hafez Assad, the president, exercised considerable leverage over several terrorist organizations.
In all, there were four terrorists—not the twenty claimed by the terrorist leader. But they had the advantage of shock and surprise.
The terrorists, it was later learned, were PLO (Palestine Liberation Organization) members. Their original plan had been to wait until the ship entered the Israeli harbor at Ashod, where they would take control of the ship. They would then hold the passengers hostage, while negotiating for the release of fifty other Palestinian terrorists who had been tried, convicted, and sentenced by Israeli courts. But things had not worked out according to plan. The four men had not behaved like normal cruise-liner passengers, a fact noted by an alert ship’s steward, who figured lunchtime would give him an opportunity to check out the stateroom they occupied. What he found when he entered was the four men cleaning automatic weapons. Their only choice was to make their move.
WHEN the Achille Lauro arrived off the port of Tartus Tuesday afternoon, the JSOTF was still flying to Cyprus. Though aircraft from the U.S. 6th Fleet were crisscrossing the eastern Mediterranean searching for it, no one other than a few on board the vessel had any idea where the cruise liner was until the terrorists announced their presence near Tartus, where they broadcast a request to land and a demand for the release of the fifty Palestinian terrorists. Their hope was that Syrian President Hafez Assad would provide them a sanctuary and a platform for negotiations. Their hope was misplaced.
Though President Hafez Assad remained friendly to terrorists, he was not at that time friendly to Yasir Arafat’s Palestinian Liberation Front terrorists. Assad had fallen out with Arafat, and since Assad had by then identified the Achille Lauro hijackers as members of the PLO, he saw an opportunity to undermine Arafat.
Assad, taking advantage of the opportunity, refused this request.
The terrorists were now in a desperate situation, knowing that they were no longer hidden and increasingly vulnerable to an attack. To deter that, they arranged twenty hostages in a circle out on an open upper deck, visible to aircraft. One of the twenty hostages was Leon Klinghoffer. His wheelchair prevented him from ascending the stairs to the deck and joining the others. “The terrorists ordered me to leave him,” his wife Marilyn reported later. “I begged them to let me stay with him. They responded by putting a machine gun to my head and ordered me up the stairs. That was the last time I saw my husband.”
Majed Molqi then broadcast threats. Passengers would be killed unless he saw movement on his demands by 3:00 P.M.
At three, Molqi went to where Leon Klinghoffer had been left, moved him near the starboard rail, and shot him in the head and chest. Two of the ship’s crew were ordered to throw the body overboard.
Afterward, Captain de Rosa was told to call this information to Tartus.
This message may have been picked up by the Israelis, because I was informed later that we had reason to believe someone had been killed, even though by that time the hijackers were claiming that all of the hostages were safe.
Meanwhile, the hijackers had picked another victim, Mildred Hodes.
Though Majed Molqi continued to demand action from Tartus, the Syrians continued to stall.
By this time, the PLO leadership had realized that matters were getting out of hand and it was time to institute damage control. Using a codename, “Abu Khaled,” Abu Abbas, who was one of Yasir Arafat’s chief lieutenant
s and a member of his executive council, broadcast a message over an Arab-speaking radio station, directing the terrorists to return to Port Said without harming the hostages.
The Achille Lauro set sail from the vicinity of Tartus somewhere around 4:30 or 5:00 P.M., to take advantage of the coming darkness. The ship again went into radio silence.
WHEN the Achille Lauro first broke radio silence near Tartus, the JSOTF was about midway into its flight to Cyprus, and I was being kept abreast of the intercepted communications between the terrorists and the Tartus port authorities by Vice Admiral Morcau at the Pentagon. At the same time, our liasion officer in Rome was keeping me up to date on developments within the Italian government.
What I learned was that Ambassador Rabb had met with Italian Prime Minister Craxi, Foreign Minister Andreotti, and Defense Minister Spadolini to explain that President Reagan was pleased at the Italian governments collaboration during the hostage crisis, but the U.S. government had learned authoritatively that an American citizen had been murdered and others had been threatened, and that this was “untenable.” Rabb stated further that the U.S. government was absolutely unwilling to undertake negotiations, and had decided to attempt a military rescue operation some time Wednesday night.
Meanwhile, the Achille Lauro had vanished again; and again, 6th Fleet aircraft lost it.
CYPRUS
The arrival of darkness also meant that JSOTF aircraft had started landing on Cyprus. We instantly raced into action.
Based on an intelligence guess that the Achille Lauro might not be headed for Egypt but for Larnaca, in Cyprus, which was not far away, we clandestinely rushed forces into position for a takedown, just in case the ship did show up.
Things did not in fact work out that way.