by Tom Clancy
★ Jeddah is located on the Red Sea about midway down the Saudi coast. It is a large city, the capital of the westernmost province of the kingdom, and the port of entry for pilgrims to the holy city of Mecca. The airport is vast, and during the hajj, millions of travelers pass through it from all over the world to travel to Mecca. It is a beautiful, majestic city, old and new, with blue sky, blue water, and blue hazy mountains to the east. Its mosques are lovely, quiet, and splendid. There are grand parks along the waterfront, palm trees, and old buildings built out of huge blocks of coral cut from the sea, their balconies decorated with delicate carved wooden screens. A giant water fountain shoots water high into the air. The same sailing ships Arab seamen have used for centuries fill the harbor.
Because of its long history as a port, codes aren’t enforced as strictly in Jeddah (or in Dhahran, on the Gulf) as in the interior. For example, foreign women are not harassed when their hair is uncovered as much as they are in Riyadh. And because of its proximity to the sea and to more moderate weather, the summer palace is located there — actually beside the sea, in a grove of date palms.
The American party descended the aircraft ramp past the Saudi honor guard and the ever-present television cameras with their satellite hookups. As always, CNN was there, which got a laugh from Horner. He couldn’t tell his wife where he was going, yet when she turned on the morning news, there’d be her husband in Jeddah walking down the steps behind Secretary Cheney.
Soon they were in the Saudi VOQ, which was inland about ten blocks from the palace. Like the palace, the VOQ was surrounded by date palms, which provided much-needed shade from the glaring sun and gave cool relief from the hot ride in from the airport. Hot gaua followed by hot sweet tea was offered. Chuck Horner was home.
The gaua service followed ancient Bedouin custom. In the past, the desert dweller would roast green coffee beans over a camel-dung fire, and then grind the roasted beans with cardamom seeds and brew a greenish, sweetish, heavily flavored coffee in a distinctive long-spouted brass pot. Since water is so scarce, the coffee is served in tiny cups without handles, small enough to hide in the palm of one’s hand. Maybe two tablespoons of coffee are drained with great flourish down the twelve-inch-long spout into a cup. This is offered first to the senior personage, then other cups are offered to each guest according to rank and status. He downs the boiling hot fluid in one or two gulps and holds the cup out again for seconds or to be collected. Normally, he takes only one or two cups, signaling the server that he’s had enough by tipping the cup slightly. After the coffee, the server will return with a silver tray filled with small mugs of steaming hot tea, sweetened with two or more lumps of sugar. The taste of the tea will vary from area to area, depending on the local custom. But invariably, it is flavored with spearmint.
No matter how long a man has traveled, no matter how mysterious or strange the desert nation may seem, this simple ceremony, repeated every time he meets his Arab host at the airport, in his home, or even in his office, becomes the familiar opening that lets him know he is a welcome and honored guest. He is truly home.
When you are hosted by the king, you never go hungry. Sodas, juice, and dates and nuts were available in the VOQ rooms; dinner was served about eight; and Horner could call room service at any hour for anything else he wanted.
Sometime toward midnight — for that’s when business in Saudi Arabia normally takes place — the U.S. delegation made the short trip over to King Fahd’s palace. During the day, just as in the West, a visitor meets with his Saudi counterpart and talks over whatever subject is on his agenda. After nightfall, when things have had a chance to cool off, he gets together late and drinks tea and juice, and sometimes has dinner. Then, around midnight, he gets down to serious business and decisions are reached.
The trip to the Palace of the Defender of the Two Holy Mosques was a first for Horner. He’d heard it was splendid, and he was eager to check it out.
It turned out to be every bit as lovely as its reputation — with the usual Arab features: curving arches; brown, tan, or reddish-brown adobe; earth tones that blended in with the color of the surrounding desert; brick stairs; flowered tiles; fountains; and a glorious profusion of roses. The Saudis are especially astute at creating serenity and comfort in the midst of the beautiful but harsh desert in which they live.
While Horner and John Yeosock waited in an outer room, General Schwarzkopf and Secretary Cheney met with the King, joined by Chas Freeman, the U.S. Ambassador to Saudi Arabia, and Major General Don Kaufman,[27] the top U.S. military officer residing in the kingdom.
During that session, King Fahd made one of the most courageous, farsighted decisions ever made by an Arab leader. The situation was clear. Iraq was in Kuwait, and much of the Kuwaiti population was in various Saudi Arabian hotels. The Iraqi army was on the border, and while it had not threatened to attack, no one could forget that Saddam had promised not to attack Kuwait either. All of this was a good argument to invite the help of the Americans and other friends.
On the other hand, asking in the Americans presented the Saudis with serious problems — not, as some people think, because the Saudis feared and rejected America and the West. That wasn’t true. The Saudis admired and respected the West. Inviting in the Americans was problematic because Saudi Arabia was the most deeply fundamental Islamic nation. To the Saudis, fundamental Islam required them to stay as close to the teaching of the Holy Prophet and the Holy Koran as possible, and this required them to reject the aspects of our culture that, in their view, were offensive to God, such as pornography, drunkenness, and the like. They had no wish to encourage the spread of these vices inside their country. Like it or not, many Arabs viewed the people of the United States (including the U.S. military) as drunken, pot-smoking skirt-chasers. The ghost of Vietnam haunting us again.
So here was the King of Saudi Arabia trying to work out what to do after an army of brother Arabs had successfully invaded a neighboring brother country. As he gazed upon that ghastly situation, he couldn’t help but ask himself, “Will my Arab brother attack me?” even as the ruler of the attacking country assured him that his armies meant no harm. So should he trust the good intentions of his admittedly treacherous brother, or should he invite a foreign legion of godless drunks and rapists to defend his people? It was one hell of a choice!
For a long time, the debate continued in Arabic between the King and his brothers, with Cheney, Schwarzkopf, Freeman, Wolfowitz, and a few other American representatives still in the room (since Freeman spoke Arabic, the main points of the debate were later reported to the others). On and on, with no clear answers. Then, at last, the King articulated very simply what he had probably had in mind ever since it had become clear that the United States was willing to offer military help… Horner wasn’t to know what that was, however, until after the meeting broke up.
As the American delegation left the Palace of the Defender of the Two Holy Mosques, everyone seemed unusually calm and peaceful. Cool breezes were blowing off the Red Sea, fountains sang in the courtyard. The only other sound was the chirp the tires made, like sneakers on marble, as the staff cars glided over the polished tile driveway. The delegation filed into the cars without speaking, everyone deep in thought, heavily troubled by what lay ahead.
Horner and Paul Wolfowitz climbed into the backseat of the car they were sharing. As they drove out the massive gates of the palace grounds, Horner quietly asked him how things had gone in the inner sanctum. “The King has asked us to come in and help,” he said, with some wonder in his voice. “He said I’ve seen this nation come too far to have it destroyed.”
It was as simple as that. Yet it meant that Chuck Horner was about to embark on nine of the most intense months of his life.
Back at the guest quarters, Secretary Cheney held a short staff meeting to discuss what needed to be done right away. Then everyone turned in for some well-needed rest.
Even though Horner was worried that the change in time zones and the adre
naline racing through his veins might make sleep impossible, for some reason he enjoyed one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had. The decision had been made. Now all he had to do was execute his end of the operation.
The following morning the Americans met with the King’s younger brother, Prince Sultan, the Minister of Defense and Aviation, the Arab equivalent of Cheney. After everyone filed into the vast, luxurious reception room (there was a light scent of rose water in the air), Prince Sultan took a seat in the corner in a large upholstered chair, Cheney sat to his right, while Prince Bandar stood between them to translate. (By this time, Bandar was the Saudi Ambassador to the United States; smart and devastatingly charming, he was the equal to Colin Powell at political maneuvering.) Prince Sultan, Bandar’s father, was fluent enough in English to conduct the meeting in that language, but this was not the time for misunderstandings. Each word had to be carefully weighed before it was spoken; and then it was up to the former F-15 fighter pilot, Prince Bandar bin Sultan bin Abdullah Aziz, to make sure everyone understood what each side was agreeing to. Meanwhile, various Saudi military and the rest of the U.S. delegation took other chairs. Except for Sultan, all the Saudi military chiefs were in Riyadh.
Those in the room were tense and uncertain. They were in the first moments of a singularly important marriage, and the bride and groom were not sure they could get along… though they were more than willing to try. John Yeosock’s and Chuck Horner’s long experience in that part of the world — only Ambassador Chas Freeman knew the Arabs better — made them probably the most relaxed Americans there. They were familiar enough with Arabic not to totally depend on the translator; and, more important, they could read the facial expressions and body language of the Arabs, which allowed them to understand the emotions behind much of what was going on.
This is what the two sides agreed to that morning: the Saudis would open their bases and ports to U.S. military forces, and pay for the lion’s share of the huge undertaking upon which both nations were embarking. The U.S. representatives promised that their forces would respect Saudi laws and culture, and would leave immediately when requested by their hosts. The United States had learned from Vietnam.
Once all this was settled, another question came up: who’d be in charge while the CINC returned to the States to start the great enterprise that would become Desert Shield? Someone had to be appointed as the United States’ forward commander, to stay in the capital in Riyadh to organize and run things as the units and supplies arrived in-country — and to be in command of U.S. forces, in the CINC’s absence, in the event of an Iraqi attack. After some discussion, General Schwarzkopf, sitting next to Secretary Cheney, pointed across the room to Lieutenant General Chuck Horner, USAF.
Two feelings hit Horner as he learned that for the next few weeks he was to be “CENTCOM Forward.” First the big head—“Gee, I’m going to be in charge!”—swiftly followed by the more chilling realization that what he was in charge of could become a tremendous, tragic disaster. He thanked God silently for the presence of John Yeosock, Grant Sharp, and Don Kaufman, who were sitting beside him in that grand but somber meeting hall. Another prayer, never far from his lips, also came. “Please, God, keep me from screwing things up.”
By midafternoon, Cheney and the others returning to Washington were at Jeddah’s international airport, delivering last-minute instructions to those who were to stay in Saudi Arabia. No one there guessed that in six short months, this huge complex, called Jeddah New, the primary entry point for Islamic pilgrims making the hajj to the two holy cities of Mecca and Medina, would be wall-to-wall with B-52 bombers and KC-135 tankers.
Meanwhile, over two dozen battle-hardened Iraqi divisions stood at the border. Horner had at his disposal exactly two armored-car companies of Saudi National Guards.
In the windy afternoon heat, amid the bustle of loading and goodbyes, Schwarzkopf and Horner stood on the airport ramp, at the foot of the stairs leading up to Cheney’s 707, and discussed what needed to be done.
Among the points they talked about was campaign planning. “Since your staff will be disrupted packing up and deploying,” Schwarzkopf said, “I’m going to ask the Joint Staff”—the planning staff of the JCS in the Pentagon—“to start work on a strategic air campaign plan.” (Later this became the USAF staff in the Pentagon.)
The phrase “strategic air campaign” rang like Easter bells in Chuck Horner’s head. The CINC was acting like a CINC and not like an Army general. Instead of talking about a ground campaign to repel an Iraqi invasion or to evict the Iraqis from Kuwait, he was talking strategic[28] air campaign.
What did that mean?
Most air campaign plans are put together at the behest of the Army, and the purpose of the Army is to defeat the enemy army. To an army person, air planning means using airpower to support his own operations. That is not the way an airman looks at it. To the airman, his job is to defeat the enemy—a job that may or may not include defeating an enemy army. Therefore, the Air Force code for use of airpower aimed at the heart of the enemy, and not at his ground forces, is strategic air campaign.
Back in April 1990, Horner had briefed Schwarzkopf about the need for a strategic air campaign plan in preparation for the planned July Internal Look exercise. The scenario there had been army-against-army, but Horner had wanted to show airpower as something beyond a ground support role, to expose his new boss to ways of thinking that would allow Horner to exercise airpower in a more productive and effective way. At the briefing, Horner had talked ballistic missile defense, close air support, how to work with Allied air forces, and how to use airpower “strategically.” Schwarzkopf had liked the briefing and, as always, was sensitive to expanding his concept of airpower to complement his already vast understanding of land power.
Thus, when Schwarzkopf started talking right from the start about the need for a strategic air campaign plan, he showed that he remembered that briefing back in April. More important, in Chuck Horner’s view, he showed that he had grown up — and away from — his Army roots.
For a moment, Horner was thrilled. How could he not be?
But then the sounds in his head changed from Easter bells to Klaxons, and the ghosts of Vietnam assaulted him. “Washington?… the Pentagon?… Shit!” As soon as it dawned on him that the CINC intended to have the plans made in Washington, Horner went ballistic and shouted, “Okay, but we ain’t picking the goddamn targets in Washington!”
Though his air component commander’s anger caught him off guard, Schwarzkopf smiled. “Look, Chuck,” he said, “you’re my air boss, with final veto authority over everything connected with air. Any air plans will be ‘presented’ to you. We’re going to plan and execute this war in the theater.” He, too, remembered Vietnam.
The Joint Staff has its virtues, Horner was thinking, as he heard these words. It’s even good at a few things. But it’s best at compromise between the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corps. Any plan that is the product of compromise is bound to be mediocre. And any air plan that is built by anyone other than airmen is bound to be a disaster. Horner trusted that Schwarzkopf knew this in his guts and would ensure that any work started in Washington would be delivered to the fliers who had to execute it and succeed. He proved true to his word.
After the VIPs boarded their aircraft and headed home to America, Grant Sharp and Paul Wolfowitz left to tour the Gulf allies to consult, seek agreements, and secure support for the U.S. forces, while Ambassador Freeman, John Yeosock, his aide, Major Fong, Don Kaufman, Bill Rider, and Horner boarded a small, twin-engine C-12 prop plane operated by an outfit known as “GUTS Airline” (Greater USMTM[29] Transportation System — Kaufman’s guys). Flying in this fragile-looking aircraft didn’t bother Horner, but the Ambassador and Major Fong looked a little worried as they bounced into the hot desert air. Horner sat back in his seat as the noise from the props drowned out attempts at conversation, and tried to work out what he had to do.
Earlier, he had already started to
unleash the flood of aerial reinforcements by notifying Bob Russ at TAC to get the 1st Tactical Fighter Wing F-15Cs headed east to supplement the Royal Saudi Air Force F-15s and Saudi AWACS who had been guarding the skies around the clock since the invasion.
The 1st Fighter Wing would be assigned the air-to-air missions, while the other wing, the 363d Fighter Wing, would be assigned primarily to do air-to-ground missions with their F-16C swing fighters. These were the two Ninth Air Force wings Horner had put on alert in July at the start of the crisis. For this, he had taken some heat from his bosses in the Air Force who were not in the CENTCOM chain of command. He also had the other Ninth Air Force units leaning forward.
Meanwhile, the Navy had a carrier task force headed for the Gulf, and Marines embarked on transports were also en route, as was Horner’s good friend, Lieutenant General Gary Luck, with the lead elements of the XVIII Airborne Corps, primarily the paratroopers of the 82d Airborne Division.[30]
He then ran over where they would unload the Army and Marine Corps, as well as where to beddown the forces. How do we house and feed them? he asked himself, with the memory of the Beirut barracks bombing, where hundreds of Marines had lost their lives, still fresh in his mind. While Saudi Arabia was the safest nation in the world, some there would still side with Saddam Hussein. What could they do to our forces as they deployed into the airfields and ports? he asked himself. And then as they moved to the bases and into the desert? No matter how good the Saudi or U.S. forces were that were tasked to provide security, a single well-placed bomb could wipe out the deploying CENTCOM staff. Riyadh hotels were also an inviting target, vulnerable to a well-trained Iraqi special forces team.
If the threat of air or terrorist attack, or just plain accident (as in the crash of a troop-filled aircraft) weren’t enough to give him pause, there were the growing numbers of Iraqi tanks and troops just over the border to the north. Consequently, the single most important question Horner had to ask himself in those dark days before his own forces were in place was What will we do if the Iraqis come across the border tonight? That particular night, any effective response would have been tough, since there wasn’t much standing between the Iraqis and Riyadh but the Saudi Air Force and hundreds of miles of desert. If they’d come toward Riyadh that night, Horner planned to drive to Jeddah and rent a boat. Each night thereafter, new and stronger forces were available to resist the invasion that never came.