Warriors by Barrett Tillman

by Barrett Tillman

  Bennett walked to the front of the room. Without consulting the notes in his pocket, he began his presentation. It had been imprinted in his mind for three years.

  "Many of you have heard us discuss portions of what we call the fadeaway plan. It is based upon two principles: goading the opposition and economy of force.

  ''The Israelis have run recon flights over several of our forward fields, and they attacked four of them, as you well know. Two bases were badly damaged but now are back to a limited operational status. The timing of the raids indicated that the Israelis were confident that hostilities would very soon occur. They didn't want to have to deal with their southern flank at the same time as the main threat out of Syria and Lebanon.

  "So the object is to give them a reason to come after us. Just running counter-air operations against our northern fields is well within their current capacity, and all we would accomplish is about a one-to-one exchange rate. That means attrition warfare, grinding them down a bit at a time. It could work over a prolonged period--assuming they had little or no resupply. But to accomplish our goal, it has to be done at a condensed period in time and space."

  Bennett moistened his lips. He was coming to the crucial part of his plan. ''The Syrian Air Force, and to a lesser extent the Iraqis, are involved in supporting their ground forces. Riyadh indicates that the Egyptians will conduct offensive sweeps over Sinai, requiring Israeli attention on their western flank. This leaves us to play the main role in drawing the bulk of their air force into battle--on our terms.

  "A bit of philosophy, gentlemen. I believe that the air weapon is the most fragile of all. Tiger Force is a prime example. It's taken us nearly four years to bring the F-20 squadrons to their current combat-ready status, and we've done it faster than anybody else ever has. It's been a combination of streamlined training, rigid pilot selection, and a relatively inexpensive, easily maintained aircraft. But even the few losses we've sustained have not been replaced in kind.

  "The same applies to the Israelis. They cannot put an equally competent, experienced pilot in the next available cockpit after losing one of their first-line aviators. Thus, the experience level is degraded with each loss.

  "If we can force the Israelis to come out and fight us over our own territory, we gain a double advantage. We're fighting close to our bases, and we keep anybody who ejects. The Israelis will lose not only their KIAs, but most of those who bailout."

  Bennett thought back to the long-ago War College class and the treatise he had written-the paper which had brought him to the attention of Safad Fatah.

  Only airpower can defeat airpower. And in the Middle East, with no weather to hide in, without forests and towns to conceal one's troops, everyone is vulnerable from the air.

  Looking around the room, Bennett was confident his air arm could do the job. He saw Ahnas Menaf, skipper of Green Squadron, stylishly sporting a green scarf. He noted Rajid Hamir had sent his exec, preferring to remain with Orange Squadron. The acts were typical of each young Saudi. Ahnas leading from the most visible position, confident and assured; Rajid accomplishing the same results in the opposite manner.

  Bennett briefly thought of Ed Lawrence, moving tonight with Black Squadron to a second-line base for two days. They're living like supersonic gypsies, Bennett thought. Devil must be enjoying himself. At least I hope so; this is the biggest thing he has to look forward to for the rest of his life.

  DAY TWO

  Over the Mediterranean. 2200 Hours

  The U.S. Air Force Boeing E-3 made a gentle turn, taking a heading west-northwest toward its base on Crete. The huge radar disk mounted atop the fuselage, capable of detecting targets almost 500 miles away, was secured, its mission completed. The vast array of monitors remained in operation, however, to detect electronic emissions of any kind.

  Previously the U. S. Air Force had kept the sophisticated airborne warning and control systems aircraft in Saudi Arabia. In fact, it had been a political sore point for two U.S. administrations, since the Israeli lobby protested loudly. But with Arabia's declaration of war on Israel, in support of regaining Jordan and the West Bank, it was not feasible to keep the AWACS planes in Arabia.

  Normally, constant monitoring flights were made by the converted Boeing 707s, collecting valuable intelligence from almost every nation in the region. But this October evening six fast, low-flying jets temporarily went undetected by any radar. Their mission plan had taken into consideration the E-3's routine schedule, noted several days before.

  The Six British-built Panavia Tornadoes, each bearing the green and white cockade insignia of Arabia, penetrated Israeli airspace from three directions. Flying at low level, in the dark, their navigation had to be precise if the plan was to succeed. And it very nearly did.

  Mission planners had timed each two-plane section's approach to coincide exactly for weapons release: one section from seaward into Tel Aviv, two more from east and northeast over Jerusalem. But the wide-ranging western section had missed a turning point by fifty seconds and was late popping up to identify its target.

  The nature of the three targets could not be ignored in Tel Aviv.

  In less than three hours the picture was clear to the Israeli leadership, and orders were hastily transmitted to air force headquarters:

  Destroy Saudi bases earliest time possible. Highest priority. Prepare contingency plan for air raids on Mecca and Riyadh.

  DAY THREE

  New York

  Avrim Ran stepped down from the rostrum amid a scattered chorus of shouts and catcalls. The Israeli ambassador to the United Nations had cut short his prepared speech to the General Assembly, for clearly the mood of the international body was against him. His face flushed, fists clenched, he crumpled his text, stared straight ahead, and walked from the hall.

  Ran had intended to cite the Arab assault upon occupied Jordan when he prepared his speech the day before. But the news from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem during the night had changed the complexion of his address.

  Avrim Ran went straight to his office, locked the door, and sat by himself. He felt humiliated, embarrassed, and angry. But most of all, he imagined the grim smile he knew must cross his younger brother's face. David Ran had never believed in the power of diplomacy. Avrim had set his life and his career to the pursuit of peace through negotiation. Now, it appeared David had been proven right. Only military force could retrieve the situation. The thought galled the ambassador.

  Pulling the telex from his file once more, Ran reread the starkly objective report which still was less than twelve hours old. The Wailing Wall destroyed and the Knesset damaged. How were such things possible?

  Despite the emotions seething within him, Ran knew that the Arab outrage was calculated in its objective. The television news early this morning contained vivid images: the crumbled stones of the Wailing Wall open to Israeli cameramen anxious to show the world what the Jewish State now faced. No scenes were permitted of the Knesset.

  Ambassador Ran was enough of a realist to know that air strikes against military facilities were more important than cultural or political targets. But wondered what his brother would think of the retaliation orders which were certain to follow.

  Hovda Air Base

  "The fools! The goddam idiots! Not even those imbecile politicians can be this insane!" Lieutenant Colonel David Ran brandished the warning order alerting his squadron for strikes against Mecca and Riyadh. "It's playing straight into the Saudis' hands. Don't they realize that?"

  Ran vented his anger at the desk, at the walls of his office, and peripherally at the two flight commanders standing before him. His face was flushed and the veins stood out in his forehead and temples.

  "Sir, maybe headquarters can get the order rescinded." It was Major Yarom Sarig, the senior flight commander, second in command of Ran's Kfir squadron.

  "That's already been tried," Ran snapped. ''The Knesset is running-scared right now. The damage was minimal but you know politicians. They're hellfire orators when t
hey send somebody else to get shot at. But let a couple of bombs fall near them and they start thinking about their own skins."

  The political fallout in Israel was beyond all magnitude of the actual damage inflicted. When the six Saudi Tornadoes struck within minutes of one another, the full spectrum of the nation's vulnerability lay exposed: political, cultural, and military. Most of the military professionals recognized that loss of the sacred Wailing Wall was trivial in practical terms, even less so than targeting of the legislative assembly. But the Saudis had struck a nerve. David Ran bitterly wondered what hard-eyed intellect was behind it.

  At length the squadron CO calmed down. He heaved a sigh which spoke volumes. He was physically drained and mentally spent. Both flight commanders recognized the symptoms; they had only to look in the mirror to see the same strain on their own faces. They had been flying multiple sorties for three days, with no letup in sight.

  "Well, I have to say one thing," Ran declared. ''The Saudis did a professional job on this mission. It's now apparent that they sent in the first two Tornadoes to focus our attention on Jerusalem while the other four went after the wall and the Knesset. Their electronics coverage and deception tactics across the Jordanian border were well conducted. We can't assume they are anything but first-class opponents. "

  Captain Uzi Nadel, the second flight commander, spoke up.

  "Excuse me, sir, but isn't it true that we shot down two Tornadoes? That's a thirty percent loss rate on this mission."

  Ran lanced the captain with a frosty glare. "Wouldn't you trade two aircraft for a shot at an enemy's primary political and cultural centers, with a major airfield thrown in?" He let the question dangle momentarily. "Of course you would! It's partly our fault that they succeeded as much as they did, anyway."

  "How is that, sir?" Nadel asked.

  "We've known for the past few years that the Saudis were buying Tornadoes from Britain. We know the performance and ordnance capabilities of those aircraft as well as the designers. It's basic doctrine to evaluate the threat based upon what the enemy is capable of doing, not what you expect him to do."

  The captain knew his CO was right. The twin-engine, two-seat Tornado, built by a consortium of British, German, and Italian firms, was one of the world's premiere strike aircraft. It regularly won NATO bombing competitions, and with a two-man crew it was capable of delivering precision weapons at low level in any weather. "Do we know how they conducted the strike, sir?"

  "Pretty much, based on known capabilities." Ran's voice was flat, almost toneless. "Their Tornadoes are configured for the French AS.30 missile, directed by the Atlis laser pod. This system gives at least a ten-kilometer standoff launch capability with accuracy of under two meters. Apparently both missiles launched at the Wailing Wall scored hits, but it was risky from their viewpoint. They passed within two hundred meters of the Dome of the Rock."

  The two officers instantly grasped the significance of that fact.

  The Dome of the Rock is a mosque covering the site where Muhammad was said to have ascended to heaven and therefore is the oldest monument in Islam. But the site also is sacred to Jews. Abraham, patriarch of the Hebrews, prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac on the same spot. The Wailing Wall, also called the Western Wall, formed part of the 60-foot-high perimeter around the Dome, but now most of its 160-foot length was reduced to rubble.

  Sarig spoke up. "Sir, is it known why the missiles launched at the Knesset fell short?"

  "Supposition. We know that one Tornado was shot down during its approach. The second was hit, apparently after launch. Evidently that hit caused the laser operator to flinch off-target just before impact. The AS.30 struck about fifty meters short of the building but there was still a lot of damage." The missile's 528-pound warhead, impacting at nearly 1,500 feet per second, was capable of penetrating two feet of concrete. Blast damage alone would have been considerable. "Anyway," Ran continued, "we still have to plan for the Mecca and Riyadh strikes."

  "We're going after Muslim shrines, then?"

  "No, I don't think so. My guess is the government wants to present a high moral tone to the world, so we won't retaliate that way. If that were the case, we could use the upgraded Jerichos. But the Saudis have surface-to-surface missiles from China and since nobody can defend against them, nobody is likely to use them."

  ''Then what is our target, sir?"

  "I don't know yet. Evidently we'll be told when Tel Aviv condescends to let us in on it." Ran's voice dripped bitter sarcasm. "Meanwhile, pass the word to the maintenance and armament sections. And get Asher in here to start work on mission profiles and planning. That's all."

  The two flight commanders had been dismissed, leaving the CO to rub his temples with his fingertips, closing his eyes. David Ran, warrior, prepared himself for an unnecessary mission from which he quite probably would not return.

  Chapter 14

  DAY FOUR

  Ha'il

  JOHN BENNETT AND BEAR BARNES CHECKED THE TIGER Force status board, pleased to note that aircraft availability was running at more than 90 percent full-mission capable going into the crucial test. There were ample stocks of fuel and ordnance, including Sparrow radar-guided missiles. The two-seat Tigersharks attached to each squadron were ready with radar installed. The General Electric APG-67 system was capable of detecting a five-meter-square target 85 percent of the time at more than forty miles, and this day the F-20s would employ their Sparrow option.

  Bennett asked his operations officer about coordination with other Saudi units.

  "We're all set," Barnes replied. "The schedule has been passed by discrete land line to the F-5 and F-15 squadrons, which will move to the northeastern bases. We've confirmed authentication codes with every unit, and the Eagle drivers understand they're not supposed to engage. They're only Sparrow shooters today."

  Bennett concurred. With F-15s on both sides, the Saudis did not want any of their $35 million Eagles shot down by F-5 or F-20 pilots. Instead, the Eagle's outstanding long-range Sparrow capability was to be used as a preliminary means of breaking up the anticipated Israeli strikes. Bennett was less enthusiastic than the Saudis themselves about the prospects for scoring many kills with radar missiles, but that was beside the point. He knew that "the great white hope," as the AIM-7 was called, would force the Israelis to' concentrate on evading the initial shots. That would give the Northrops time to position for an advantage when the close-in, cut-and-thrust dogfighting began.

  Barnes was smiling to himself for no apparent reason. "What's so funny?" Bennett asked.

  "Oh, I was just thinking of what Tim Ottman used to say. You remember? He said he'd just as soon have a cardboard tube filled with a smoke generator to get the opposition's attention. It'd be a lot cheaper than a radar missile and accomplish the same thing."

  Bennett chuckled aloud. It was a reassuring sound; Bear had not heard the CO laugh since Claudia died.

  "Yeah, I remember. And that's from a thousand-hour Eagle driver. I just hope none of our 15s gets buck fever and piles in. The way the Tiger Force honchos are keyed up, not to mention the F-5 troops, I wouldn't want to get within visual range of an Eagle today. "

  Bennett recalled the briefing from the night before. The Israelis would come with everything: F-15s, F-16s, Phantoms, and Kfirs.

  Bennett's word on aircraft recognition: "If it isn't built in Hawthorne, California, shoot it!" It shaped up as Northrop against nearly everything in the Israeli inventory.

  Rubbing his back, Barnes straightened up from the table. "You know, Skipper, this is going to be one hellacious donnybrook. There will be bogeys all around the clock, heat-seekers and radar missiles, heavy ECM from both sides. It's going to be a jet-propelled Dawn Patrol." He grinned. "I'm almost sorry I won't see it."

  Bennett did not respond for several seconds. Then, softly, he replied, "I used to feel that way. But I think a lot of good drivers are going to die pretty soon. The desert's going to be littered with smoking piles that once were beautiful flyi
ng machines." He raised his gaze to Bear's face. "You know something? I'm glad I won't see it." He noted the concern on the ops officer's face, and understood. "Oh, don't mistake me, Bear. I'm not having second thoughts. After all, it's my plan. But whoever was behind Claudia's killing, it wasn't any of the guys in cockpits over there. No, I'm just glad I won't have to watch it, that's all."

  Bennett turned to the situation map in the briefing room. The forward lines were revised every two or three hours, according to field reports and photographic reconnaissance. It was obvious that the Israeli Army, overextended into Jordan, had been unable to hold its ground in the face of the massive, violent assault. The units in danger of being encircled had made a reasonably orderly withdrawal toward the West Bank, fighting hard all the way. Low-flying jets with the Star of David had inflicted heavy losses on Arab troop columns, and antitank helicopters made sizable dents in enemy armored columns.

  But from Amman to Al-'Aqabah, Israeli units had been forced to pull back in the previous three days. Those not actually in contact often were left in precarious positions, one or even both flanks exposed by the withdrawal of adjacent regiments. Fighting had stabilized on the East Bank of the River Jordan, mainly helped by Israeli armor and airpower. But nearly half the Heyl Ha'Avir tactical aircraft had been siphoned off for the massive retaliatory strikes ordered by Tel Aviv. The air force professionals recognized it as a blunder. And so did a young paratroop captain fighting near Amman.

  Amman

  Captain Levi Bar-El had had no time to think of his fixation on the American John Bennett lately. The intelligence officer had been fully occupied identifying nearby Syrian and Iranian units, interrogating occasional prisoners. Other than that, it was. a constant routine of filling in small pieces of the overall puzzle, making some order out of near-total chaos.