INTELLIGENCE FAILURE

by Jon Sedran

  “To counter this threat, our air force along with American carrier-based planes and cruise missiles, have been pounding Syrian and Iranian military forces which were greatly exposed as they neared the Golan Heights.

  Klein looked directly at Dayan. “We need to stop them,” he said.

  Dayan took a deep breath. “We will…we will,” he assured him.

  Harel stood, glanced at Dayan then said, “I just looked at the latest satellite imagery. The enemy ground forces are taking a real beating. We destroyed the Syrian Air Force and have full control of the skies,” adding, “Our cyber units have degraded the SA-300 threat. The latest imagery shows a great many burning armored vehicles. They cannot sustain this level of losses.”

  Klein sighed. “Armageddon,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

  * * * *

  “Wave off Cobra one,” screamed the air boss as a series of thunderous explosions rocked the big carrier.

  The F-14’s missile had punched through the flight deck to the hangar deck below where it had struck a two-thousand pound bomb. The missile’s warhead detonated and so did the bomb causing a massive explosion. Then in quick succession, several missiles waiting to be loaded onto aircraft began to explode.

  For the next two hours, the crew fought to bring the fires under control and to keep additional ordinance from exploding.

  “Captain, damage control teams are reporting it will take at least twelve hours before we may be able to resume limited air operations, and that is if they can get the fires under control in the next two hours, and we don’t list any more,” reported the XO.

  “Bob, the pumps are barely keeping up…we better head to port,” Morris quietly suggested.

  Clancy nodded slowly as he looked out at the large jagged hole in the flight deck, thick grey-black acrid smoke belching out. “Set a course for Bahrain, notify all airborne aircraft to divert,” he ordered.

  “I’ll notify the CNO,” said Morris.

  * * * *

  While reviewing some reports at the Pentagon, Admiral Hardy received a Flash priority encrypted message on his tablet PC, one he was hoping not to get. He shook his head and looked at Bingham. “The carrier George H.W. Bush has been hit by another missile which got through its defenses,” he reported, adding, “The hangar deck on fire, they have flooding in several compartments from two torpedo hits and they’re listing ten degrees to starboard. They cannot launch or recover aircraft. No time estimate for when the fires may be brought under control. One-hundred seventy-seven casualties. Many sailors still trapped below decks. They are heading to port.”

  Bingham shook his head. “The experts will come out of the woodwork now screaming, we told you so, about the big flattops.”

  “Yes, they will. But they are very much needed,” Hardy replied, in defense of his ships. “The Persian Gulf was just too tight of an area, too close to land-based threats.”

  Bingham slowly nodded. “We knew all that going in.”

  Hardy sighed. “What choice did we have? We could have moved a second carrier into the area. That might have helped.”

  “Might have, or we might just have two crippled carriers to deal with right now. Sounds like we need to rethink tactics.” Hardy knew his navy career was over.

  * * * *

  In the Kremlin’s underground command center Certov sat down with his senior intelligence officer and reviewed the latest intelligence coming in from the Middle-East. The Russian Chief of the General Staff was somewhat amused at the mess the Americans had gotten themselves into, but tempered his thoughts with the realization the situation could still get completely out of hand.

  “Comrade General, I was just reviewing your situation reports and the reports we intercepted from the Americans,” Certov paused and shuffled through some photos. “I see Iranian military forces sank one U.S. navy ship and severely damaged two others. Apparently, they also severely damaged the pride of their navy, the aircraft carrier George H.W. Bush,”

  Yes, the latest imagery showed it was still on fire,” replied the general.

  “Yes, it was our missiles that did this,” said Certov, a wry smile on his face, adding, “Our newest missiles are every bit as good as we thought.”

  The general nodded. “Their carriers are relics, expensive toys for their admirals, nothing more,” he added.

  “Yes, and now we have confirmed they are easy targets for us should the need arise,” said Certov.

  “I agree comrade general, but they are arrogant and will not admit to their carriers’ weaknesses,” said his senior intelligence officer.

  Certov adjusted his reading glasses. “My well-placed source at the Pentagon tells me their admirals are arguing if they had just been able to have another carrier in the area the attack would have been prevented.” He set the photos aside. “They have not yet seen our newest and most lethal missile systems.”

  Upstairs, the Russian President was becoming increasing concerned things could rapidly spiral out of anyone’s control. He would make a proposal to Acosta he hoped would prevent further escalation.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Not since the Cuban Missile Crisis had a President faced such a dangerous situation. A global nuclear confrontation could be just hours away. After a week of around the clock bombing of Iranian targets, the President and the country’s top leaders were meeting again at the White House Oval Office to assess the progress of kinetic combat operations.

  “Mr. President, CIA estimates the Iranian leadership will buckle under this relentless bombing campaign,” reported the CIA Director.

  “I’m not so sure,” said Simpson. “I think the ayatollahs might sacrifice everything and every person in Iran, to remain in power.

  So far they have not made many of the same mistakes Saddam Hussein made during our invasion of Iraq,” said Bingham, adding, “They have better utilized hardened communications systems and kept off the radios. They are relying heavily on encrypted e-mails to issue commands to their military forces.”

  “I’m concerned they may decide to send tens of thousands of their QUDs forces fanning out all around the Middle-East,” Acosta added.

  “Reports are that as many as five-thousand more IRGC troops may be in route to Syria to augment the three-thousand already in place,” said Simpson. “Those three-thousand have already tipped the balance of power in the Syrian regime’s favor. They swept the insurgent forces we were supporting, from the battlefield and from the cities and villages. They linked up with their Hezbollah allies and backed by Syrian armor, wiped out three Jordanian divisions. They are now on the Golan Heights and slowly advancing toward the border with Israel.”

  The President knew time was running out on preventing further, and possible irreversible, escalation. “I received a text message from Russian President Koslov early yesterday,” Acosta announced to the group. “He says he is very worried about a serious escalation of hostilities. If we agree to keep the Israelis from launching a ground offensive against Syria, he will pressure Iran to remove all of their forces from there.” He paused and looked around the table. “I held this for a day because I received recent information the Israelis are turning the tide on the Golan…and the Iranians are quietly seeking a peace deal. However, I agree with him, it’s in everyone’s best interest to end this as quickly as possible. I am going to call Klein and get him to accept this proposal…anyone disagree?” The room was quiet.

  * * * *

  Kaviani looked miserable. He tossed his tablet PC across the table. “Ayatollah Arachi, the world does not believe our denials. And I cannot blame them as it now appears we were in fact, involved,” he said, adding, “We are being bombed back into the stone age.”

  “Yes, the bombing is relentless…the damage reports are too horrible to read. We are being hit by American, NATO, Saudi, and Jordanian air forces,” replied Arachi.

  Kaviani leaned back in his chair. “I have pieced together most of the events, including the pilots and the Hezbollah connection,” he s
aid. He thought for a few moments and then asked, “What did you find out about those two cargo aircraft?”

  “General Harim told me he had been contacted by Syrian General Aboud about two cargo aircraft he said had flown from an air base near Dezful to Damascus, apparently without General Harim’s knowledge. General Harim decided to contact General Namazi and was told they were for a high-priority, most secret IRGC program. So he did not pursue the matter further.”

  Kaviani frowned. “Thank you…I will question both of them.”

  “Do you require anything else?” asked Arachi. Kaviani just shook his head and looked away.

  “You should get some rest,” Arachi advised him, getting up to leave.

  Kaviani motioned to his security detail chief. “Ayatollah Javadi has not answered any of my calls. Go find him and bring him here.”

  “Ayatollah, I regret we just learned Ayatollah Javadi was killed in a missile strike,” reported the security chief. “His body was found in his burned out car.”

  Have someone go to his office and open his safe; bring all the contents here. Also send someone to his home to look for any documents,” Kaviani angrily instructed him.

  “Right away,” replied the chief. He quickly turned to leave.

  “Ayatollah Kaviani, General Namazi is here, as you requested,” announced the Guardian Council special security team commander as he entered the room.

  “Have him come in, and I want four of your most trusted men to escort him.”

  “Yes, right away,” replied the team commander, wearing a somewhat bewildered look on his face.

  “General Namazi, come in and sit down,” directed Kaviani. The general complied and immediately noticed the four armed guards standing nearby.

  “General Namazi I have some questions for you, and you will tell me the truth,” said Kaviani, scowling.

  “Of course, what is this about?”

  “General, do you know anything about a shipment of U-235 from Pakistan some years back?

  “No!” answered the general,” emphatically.

  “I have information that says otherwise,” Kaviani replied, with a stern face, glancing down at some notes. “I also have information about your participation in a clandestine operation that did not have the Council’s approval, and of which I had no knowledge.”

  “I know of no such operation,” Namazi stated emphatically.

  “The two planes used in the attacks flew out of one of our bases on your orders, and without General Harim’s knowledge,” an angry Kaviani said, doing his best to not lose control as he tossed a document showing the unscheduled flights on that day, in front of Namazi. “He said you told him they were for an IRGC secret mission. What mission was that, general?” Kaviani glumly surveyed the room as he waited for an answer. The carpet was littered with pieces of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling due to the explosions of the bombs above.

  Namazi sat silently.

  There was a knock at the door and a security officer opened it. Standing outside the door was Mr. Benuit. He was in shackles and being escorted by two security men.

  “Come in and sit down,” Kaviani ordered. There was no mistaking the anger in his voice.

  Benuit shuffled to a seat while the two security officers stood directly behind him and two more stood by the door. Kaviani pushed a folder in front of Namazi, telling him to open it and look at the contents.

  As he did so he became pale and perspiration could be seen on his brow. It was clear from the notes in the folder Benuit had told the interrogators everything about the two bombs.

  “You have been lying to me…you have been deceiving me…why?” Kaviani demanded to know.

  General Namazi sighed, but said nothing.

  “Your stupid plan went awry and now the whole world is against us…you have killed us all and destroyed the revolution.”

  “No, Ayatollah, you are weak and indecisive,” Namazi replied forcefully, adding, “And you yourself said the Jordanian leadership should be destroyed for signing that treaty with the Zionists.”

  Kaviani could barely contain his anger, his face was bright red. He was now yelling at Namazi and Benuit. “You both lied to me! You told me we did not do this! You told me our nuclear materials were all accounted for and our own nuclear weapons would soon be ready for deployment!” He turned and looked up at the monitors. “Look at this you fools,” he screamed, as he pointed to the wall monitor. “Look at the live coverage of U.S. cruise missile strikes and precision bomb strikes all over Iran.” He turned again to face them, “Look what you have both done! Look!”

  Namazi and Benuit glanced up at the monitor then at each other, as they sat silently. Benuit was white as ghost and tears were streaming down his face.

  “We don’t have an ally anywhere in the world,” said Kaviani. “I lied to the world about our involvement because you two deceived me.” He pounded his fist on the table. “We were so close to having a nuclear weapon and a missile to carry it. Now we will have to give up everything and allow full inspections.” Kaviani again looked up at the monitor showing the multiple scenes of the destruction of Iran’s infrastructure. “You handed a victory to our enemies,” he said. He motioned to his security chief and instructed him, “Take them away, they will be put on trial.” Two security men forcefully stood Namazi up while two others handcuffed and searched him.

  Kaviani watched as both men were lead away. We would have had nuclear weapons with missiles to deliver them. Those idiots dragged us into an unwinnable war and we will lose it all, he thought.

  General Rabiei entered the room. He glared at Namazi as he watched him being escorted past. “Ayatollah, here is the latest report on our military forces,” he announced, placing a document on the table in front him.

  “Just give me a summary, damn it,” said a very dejected Kaviani, pushing the paper aside.

  “Of course, ayatollah. The air force has less than five flyable aircraft of any type left. All our airfields have been put out of operation. The navy has lost all of its large surface ships, both our Kilo class subs, and most of the mini-subs, as well. We have lost over ninety percent of our air defense system capability. The missile test site at Shahrud has been destroyed, completely flattened.” Kaviani just sat quietly and listened.

  “Should I continue?” asked the general.

  “There’s more?” Kaviani asked quietly, putting his head in hands.

  “Karg Island is ablaze,” replied the general, adding, “There is barely any electricity with our two reactors knocked out…but we did achieve a great victory. We severely damaged an American carrier and we sank two of their other large ships. We also severely damaged a British frigate and several others of their ships. Our forces also downed over twenty enemy aircraft, including two Zionist F-15’s and three F-16’s over Syria.

  “Thank you for your report general,” said Kaviani.

  Rabiei nodded, then turned and left the room.

  * * * *

  “This is a new type of war Mr. President,” offered the Defense Secretary seated in the Oval Office, discussing the situation. He took a sip of water, “It is being fought not just with bullets and bombs, but with autonomous drones and high tech electronic devices. And with bytes and bits and electromagnetic pulse weapons. It’s no longer necessary to obliterate the enemy’s weapons; frying the electronics that control them, is usually sufficient. We greatly mitigated the dangers to our aircrews by using smart autonomous drones that defended themselves. In the future armies will no longer need to face each other in mortal combat, electronic signals from half-way around the globe can now bring down a rain of death and destruction.”

  “Scary thoughts, Alex,” said Acosta, glancing away from his computer screen. He took off his glasses and then added, “I believe General Robert E. Lee said, “It is well that war is so terrible, lest we should grow too fond of it.”

  Simpson nodded.

  “If we automate war Alex, and make it easy to launch weapons from halfway around t
he world, I’m afraid we will be inviting even greater horrors to descend upon mankind.”

  “I suppose so Mr. President. but at least we showed how good we are at cyber warfare…and we have not had a single cyber attack on us since the conflict began.”

  “Thank God…at any rate, are the Iranians ready to call it quits?”

  “I think so…some mixed signals,” replied Simpson.

  Acosta put his glasses back on and went back to his PC screen, “I want this over with quickly…thank you for coming by Alex.”

  * * * *

  “Maddy, the Joint Chiefs and the President wants the updated battle damage assessment and status of all remaining Iranian military capabilities,” said Lowe. “Apparently, the President has asked the Joint Chiefs to starting making plans to draw down our forces. He wants to avoid a protracted conflict.”

  “It’s about ready general, we just needed one last look at the last satellite pass,” Maddy replied, reviewing the imagery with Barillas. “At this point, it doesn’t appear they have much left. The EMP bombs and the computer viruses were very effective. Once they were blinded and muted, our forces just mopped up what was left.”

  Lowe raised his eyebrows. “They had enough left to sink a couple of our ships and cripple a carrier.”

  “That’s true,” Maddy replied.

  Lowe started for the door. “Please bring it to my office. I have to brief them in thirty minutes,” he said.

  “We’ll have it there in fifteen, general.”

  * * * *

  Marid stood on a bluff and looked through his binoculars at the scene ahead. He could see the joint Iranian and Syrian offensive on the Golan Heights was running out of steam. Burning Syrian armored vehicles littered the landscape. The IRGC QUDS force general in charge had been killed and with Russian insistence, the Iranian leadership had changed its mind on sending in reinforcements. Marid made his way to a senior Iranian military commander standing nearby.