INTELLIGENCE FAILURE

by Jon Sedran

  * * * *

  “Mr. President, Prime Minister Klein on secure line two,” announced Kragen. Covering the mouthpiece she said, “He says they have their hands full stopping the Republican Guard QUDs forces on the Golan Heights.”

  Acosta picked up the receiver. “Mr. Prime Minister, I trust our supplies have gotten to you?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” said an exhausted Klein. “Mr. President, they have threatened for years to wipe us off the map, and they are close to making good on their threats. We are putting everything we have up onto the Golan. The U.N. peacekeepers all fled when the Syrians and Iranians attacked.” He paused, and then said, “If we are not successful with our conventional forces, we will have to resort to other means.”

  Acosta looked silently at Kragen for a few moments, and then asked, “What about the Jordanian forces? They were going to hit them too.”

  “Mr. President, the Iranian ground forces and Syrian armored columns destroyed the Jordanians in a matter of hours. What was left fled back across the border into Jordan.

  Acosta covered the mouthpiece, “Shit,” he mumbled.

  “If the world will not help us, we will have to go it alone,” said Klein, adding, “But then you must understand we will use all our resources…they will not push us into the sea.”

  “I understand, you are under attack and have every right to defend yourselves,” said Acosta, trying desperately to prevent any nuclear escalation. “Additional replacement F-15 and F-35 aircraft are on their way along with cruise missiles.”

  “We can only wait another day or two,” a sullen Klein informed him.

  “Right now the whole world is on your side. Even the Arabs are furious at Iran and Hezbollah, replied Acosta. “Please hold off for now, and allow us to do this with our military might and with NATO’s as well. We are making very good progress. Then if you are not satisfied with the results, you can consider your other options,” said Acosta.

  “I will bring your suggestion to our cabinet,” Klein replied.

  “Thank you,” said Acosta. He put down the phone and looked at Nancy, “If we send in ground forces to assist the Israelis, the Russians will do the same for the Syrians.”

  “And its World War III,” said Kragen.

  Klein hung up and looked at his military advisors seated around a table in the command center. “The President again asks us to hold off and allow American and NATO forces to keep hitting Iran,” he said.

  There was silence for a few moments and then Dayan said, “I put our chances of success at fifty-fifty,” adding, “We control the air over the Golan. We have been able to neutralize many of their mobile surface-to-air missiles, but not all. We are still losing aircraft and pilots.”

  “If they break through, they can be in Tel Aviv in less than a day,” advised Harel.

  “Then let’s not let that happen,” said Klein.

  * * * *

  “Maddy, latest BDA coming in now from Iran,” said Barillas, struggling to keep up with the flow of intelligence. “Also, the navy lost the LCS Freedom, and so far we have lost four fighter aircraft, two navy and two air force,” he reported. “Looks like two crewmembers were lost and the others were safely recovered…also Karg Island is ablaze.” He handed Maddy some photos. “Look at this satellite imagery.”

  Maddy put on her reading glasses and looked. “We need to put all this with our report for General Lowe to take to the Joint Chiefs, ASAP,” she directed, adding, “And a full BDA report.”

  Barillas nodded, as he reviewed some more imagery. “Got some shots here of ships on fire in the Strait too. And looks like maybe a dozen Iranian military aircraft parked on the ramp, all destroyed. Iranian naval vessel in port…burning and listing.”

  “Good, Joint Chiefs will need this stuff ASAP,” Maddy repeated.

  “We’ll have it ready in fifteen,” Barillas assured her.

  “Make it ten,” Maddy replied.

  * * * *

  The Defense Secretary was awakened by the early morning call from the Chief of Naval Operations. He turned on the light as he fumbled for his glasses. The news was not good; the U.S.S. Freedom had been sunk.

  “Shit…I thought that ship had the latest defensive equipment on it.” Simpson said.

  “Mr. Secretary, the Iranian military may be far smaller and technically inferior to ours, but it is still very capable,” confessed Hardy. He glanced at the report, “They fired two Sunburn missiles at the ship on a high-low trajectory from land-based mobile sites. The ship’s radar did not pick them up until they were about five miles out. It had trouble tracking them as the missiles were just skimming the surface and began pre-programmed evasive maneuvers. The ship’s new defensive laser system went into action but had no success. We don’t yet know why. Their twenty millimeter Phalanx and twenty-five mm CIWS guns were able to destroy the first missile at a range of less than one-hundred yards. But, the ship’s defensive radar failed to get a lock on the remaining missile. It got through and hit them on the port side, causing lethal damage. Casualties were heavy.”

  “Damn,” said Simpson, shaking his head. “One of our newer ships…one inexpensive damn missile.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  And the nations were angry, and thy wrath is come, and the time of the dead, that they should be judged, and that thou shouldest give reward unto thy servants the prophets, and to the saints, and them that fear thy name, small and great; and shouldest destroy them which destroy the earth.

  Revelations 11.18

  In the Persian Gulf things were going from bad to worse for the crew of the aircraft carrier George H.W. Bush. They had gone to general quarters and had just fought off most of an Iranian missile attack. Of the six Mach three surface skimming missiles fired at the big ship, three had gotten past the long range defenses. The close-in Phalanx weapon system had been able to bring down two of the remaining three. But one had gotten through and struck the hangar deck near amidships. The missile’s warhead exploded with devastating results. Several crewmen servicing aircraft were blown apart. Three F-18’s had been set ablaze and were burning furiously. There was imminent danger of ordinance detonating and damage control crews were working heroically to keep the fire from spreading.

  “Captain, we cannot launch or recover,” advised one of the officers on the bridge. Clancy nodded as he looked out at the clouds of choking grey-black smoke rising from the deck below.

  Davis and the crew of the attack sub USS Virginia had been cleared in a navy inquiry into the sinking of the Avland. They were now prowling beneath the surface of the Gulf trying to keep Iranian submarines away from the carrier. The Virginia had numerous technological advantages over their Iranian counterparts, but in the shallow waters where they were forced to operate, the smaller and more maneuverable subs might be able to evade detection. In their first day in the Gulf they had located and sank three of Iran’s mini subs trying to make their way toward the carrier group. But they were still only one sub and there were hundreds of miles of coastline.

  “Goddamn it, call the CIC! Where’s our Goddamn helicopters, where’s Ranger Two-Seven, where are our fucking eyes and ears?” yelled Clancy, as he scrambled to defend the carrier. “I need damage reports, now!”

  “Admiral on the bridge,” announced one of the officers.

  Morris looked out at the billowing smoke from the burning mess on the hangar deck below and glanced over at Clancy. “The fucking Russians provided the Iranians with some of their newest and deadliest anti-ship missiles. I’m sure the Russian military leadership was anxious to see if they work as well under actual combat conditions as they had in tests. I guess we’re showing them,” she said.

  The crew of the Iranian Kilo-class submarine, the Noor 902, had taken advantage of their sub’s capability to move silently in the shallow Gulf waters. They had managed to slip past the Virginia and had avoided detection by the array of sono-bouys deployed from the carrier’s helicopters. Using real-time information received from a
Russian satellite above, the captain had navigated his sub to an intercept point. He raised the periscope and took a look, and then exclaimed loudly, “Praise be to Allah!” For there at a range of less than four miles, was the carrier. The firing solution was quickly entered into the sub’s computer and on the captain’s command four torpedoes were fired at the big ship.

  “Captain, CIC reports sonar has detected likely three…no, four torpedoes, bearing zero-niner zero degrees, six-thousand yards and closing!” yelled the carrier’s defensive systems officer.

  Clancy said nothing, and then mumbled, “We’re just a big fucking target.”

  “Our defensive systems are slowly being overwhelmed by firing numerous weapons at us simultaneously…just as we had all figured,” observed Morris.

  * * * *

  In a tent set up on a hilltop near the Golan Heights, the IRGC Quds Forces Deputy Commanding General greeted his long-time Hezbollah friend with a big smile. “Allah Akbar Commander Marid,” he said.

  “Good to see you again general,” he replied, offering his hand.

  The men walked a few paces to a map hanging on board.

  “As planned, today we began to rain more death on the Zionists,” said Marid, pointing to his launcher sites on the map.

  “Praise Allah, Haifa has been destroyed, next Tel Aviv!” said the general, also pointing to the map. “Our forces are advancing rapidly, in three days’ time we will liberate Jerusalem.”

  “Victory for our beloved Palestine,” said Marid.

  The general pointed to several more locations on the map as he spoke. “Our forces swept the Jordanians from the field, next we proceed along the Golan Heights, smash through the Zionist defenses and re-take the territory stolen from the Palestinians,” he declared, making a sweeping motion with his hand on the map. “Did you know over one-thousand terrorists have been forced to flee into Israel to seek refuge?”

  “Yes, and our rockets will continue raining down on them from our bases in Lebanon,” reported Marid, “The Zionist state will wither and capitulate soon under our bombardment. We are using the newer longer range rockets you sent us. They are capable of hitting Haifa and even a few can go all the way to the outskirts of Tel Aviv.”

  “Good, our forces will soon retake Jerusalem, then Tel-Aviv…then push the Jews into the sea,” the general boldly announced.

  * * * *

  The Iranian leadership in Tehran was continuing to get reports and assess the military and regional situation.

  “Saudi oil production facilities are ablaze, as are those in Bahrain,” reported Rabiei, excitedly. “Our long-range missiles have hit targets in every country, except Israel.” He glanced up at the wall map, “Ayatollah, I do not understand why you have not yet authorized us to strike the Zionist heartland with our long range missiles?”

  “Patience,” replied Kaviani, “Haifa was partially destroyed and our Hezbollah allies are raining more destruction on the Zionists daily. As you are aware, General Namazi’s Quds forces are advancing in the Golan Heights toward Israel. But, we must remain cautious until our full complement of special weapons and missiles are ready. If we fire missiles at them, they will have every right to fire nuclear tipped missiles back at us…and the world would see it as justified.”

  Rabiei nodded.

  “Ayatollah, glorious news,” interrupted Tovar, “We have reports that our missiles and torpedoes got through…the American carrier George H.W. Bush is burning ferociously and starting to roll over.”

  “Praise be to Allah!” said Kaviani.

  * * * *

  Of the four torpedoes fired at the George H.W. Bush, one had missed, another hit but failed to detonate, and the remaining two had each punched a ten-foot hole in the side of the ship below the water line flooding several compartments. Launching the torpedoes had given away the Noor 901’s position. A U.S. Navy P-8A Poseidon anti-submarine aircraft quickly arrived on scene and sank it with an air-dropped torpedo before the sub could fire again. Damage control crews on the carrier were doing everything they could. The carrier was now further crippled but still functioning at a reduced level, and still able to recover aircraft. Morris was keeping fleet commanders and the Pentagon appraised of their situation.

  * * * *

  Rasid turned and headed the F-14 out over the Persian Gulf. They were less than fifty miles from the carrier. So far, they had been able to avoid detection by allied forces by staying low over the Iranian coastline.

  “Captain Rasid, we have but one missile,” his back-seater reminded him.

  “Yes, but we still have enough fuel; we will find an inviting target,” replied Rasid. “Let’s climb and take a look around.” He pushed the throttles forward and lit the engines’ huge afterburners. They watched as their airspeed increased and the air data computer sweep the wings back. Then at four-hundred eighty knots Captain Rasid pulled back on the stick and pointed the nose of the aircraft up at a steep sixty-degree angle.

  “There is a cloud deck at twenty-thousand feet,” advised Paria.

  “I see it, okay…we will level off just below the cloud deck,” said Rasid.

  “Cobra-One, radar contact. We show you level at two-two thousand. Fly heading two-three zero, descend and maintain one-niner thousand,” the George H.W. Bush air traffic controller instructed the F-18 pilot.

  “Out of two two-zero for one-niner thousand, heading two-three zero,” the pilot crisply replied.

  “Cobra-One, advise the ship in sight,” instructed the air controller.

  “Will do,” replied the pilot, adding, “And be advised I’ve had to shut down number-one engine, I’m declaring an emergency.”

  “Captain, fires are being brought under control,” reported the first officer. This was followed shortly by, “We can recover aircraft,” the air boss announced.

  Clancy breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s bring Cobra-one down,” he directed, looking at the bridge radar display.

  “Look just ahead. Do you see it?” asked an excited Rasid. “An F-18…he just popped out of the clouds for a moment.”

  “I do not see him,” replied Paria.

  “There, just ahead,” repeated Rasid, as he pulled the engines out of afterburner and closed to within two-hundred yards, directly behind the F-18.

  “I see him…does he have a wingman?” asked the RIO.

  “I do not see one, but keep your head moving, and leave the radar off,” instructed Rasid.

  “Cobra-one, copy emergency, descend and maintain one-zero thousand, fly heading two-five zero degrees, base leg,” instructed the air traffic controller. “Be advised we are condition ‘Zebra’…we have damage to the hangar deck.”

  “Down to one-zero thousand, two-five zero the heading, and copy condition ‘Zebra’,” replied the pilot. He could now see the smoke rising from the carrier.

  “Praise Allah, he must be heading to a carrier and he cannot see us. We will stay close to hide us from their ship’s radar…and just follow him,” said Rasid.

  “Yes, he will lead us to their carrier, praise Allah,” replied Paria.

  Cobra-One, descend to six-thousand, maintain present heading,” directed the ship’s air traffic controller.

  “Down to six, present heading,” replied the F-18 pilot.

  “There, just ahead, do you see it! Glory to Allah, their carrier!” shouted Rasid over the intercom. “Arm the missile, but leave the radar off,” he ordered.

  “Done,” replied Paria.

  “Look, it is less than three kilometers ahead. They still must not see us on their ship’s radar,” said Rasid, adding, “Praise Allah; there is a broken cloud deck just below us.”

  As the F-18 continued on its final descent toward the carrier, Rasid leveled the F-14 off.

  “I’m going into afterburner…then we will dive straight down onto them,” he said. “Turn on the radar now.”

  “It is on, Allah Akbar,” replied Paria.

  “Here we go,” said Rasid, as he lit the afterburners and p
ulled the stick back putting the plane into a climb. Then after about fifteen seconds, he rolled the plane inverted and pulled the nose straight down. They were now screaming nearly vertically at the carrier. “They have planes on their deck and I see a lot of smoke!” Rasid yelled into the intercom.

  “The radar shows one huge return, we have a lock!” said the excited Paria.

  “Fire,” yelled Rasid. “We cannot miss.” The missile instantly left the rail and streaked straight downward trailing white smoke.

  “Captain, CIC! Radar says there is an Iranian F-14 directly above us!” yelled the XO.

  “Fuck!” yelled Clancy, as he grabbed his binoculars.

  “They must have snuck through our coverage, Goddamn it,” said the XO.

  “How? Where? Overhead? What the fuck…dammit, where’s our Goddamn fighter cover?” yelled a furious Clancy. He glanced up at the radar display. “Shit, tell CIC to get our Phalanx gun…!” He was cut off mid-sentence as an enormous blast and fireball erupted directly in front of the bridge. This was quickly followed by several secondary explosions.

  * * * *

  At the Israeli military command center in Tel Aviv, progress in destroying priority targets in neighboring Syria and Lebanon, was being evaluated by senior leaders.

  “We are now fully mobilized Mr. Prime Minister,” reported Harel.

  Klein nodded. “What about the Syrian armored units and their Iranian troop support?” he asked anxiously looking down at a map laid out on a table.

  Dayan stood. He pointed to various places on a large display screen showing military force status, speaking as he went. “We know the greatest threat has been those Syrian armored units, reinforced by five-thousand Iranian Republican guards and a thousand Hezbollah fighters. They destroyed the Jordanian forces and have moved quickly in the last couple of days toward the Golan Heights. We had detected several Russian-made SA-300 mobile launchers moving with them.”