“And still go to Baghdad?”
“Indeed. We are sending three heavy divisions, and one of them, the 4th Mechanized Division, will stand ready to join your operation, along with a full brigade of our 1st Cavalry Division. With that, the US Navy and Air Force, will give you our full support. I’m told we will therefore have air supremacy in this action, and possibly before the ground combat ever begins.”
“Well Mister Ambassador, I am a military man, as I came up through the Army. I can tell you that even with command of the skies over Sinai, this will be a very tough fight. To secure the Suez Canal, we must cross it, placing a military force within striking distance of Cairo. The Egyptians know this, and I would therefore expect them to resist with all their might, which is considerable. All that said, I have consulted the ministers and cabinet, and they have given their assent to this operation. I only hope I will not be signing a mountain of letters to the mothers and fathers of sons and daughters who will enter Sinai, and never come home.”
* * *
As the US planners expected, the mobilization and movement of this massive naval armada prompted the Iraqis to immediately thin out their forces inside Saudi Arabia. They could read a map as easily as anyone else, and there could be only one reason for a force the size of the one now being reported to them by Chinese intelligence. The Iraqis realized how vulnerable their western flank was as their Generals now stared at the long lonesome line of Highway One from Jordan to Baghdad.
“Father says we must be wary,” said Qusay, though his older brother Uday was of a different mind.
“You think they are coming here? To Baghdad? That would be very arrogant. It would be more likely for them to cross into Saudi Arabia on Highway 25. Surely they are coming to try and liberate Kuwait, and force us to leave the Saudis in peace.”
“Perhaps, but what if they are more ambitious? Taking Highway One would be just as easy. If they do that, it would cut off the greater part of our entire army. Saddam believes this is what they intend to do. He has urged me to move forces north to prevent this, and I am inclined to do what he suggests.”
“Saddam, Saddam. He is just a fearful old man. He will not even live long enough to savor what we have taken over the last few weeks. Yes, they may have stopped us on the current front, but they cannot push us. They do not have the strength.”
“Brother, when the forces presently at sea reach the Levant, they will have the strength. We knew we might have to fight the Americans, but no one thought it would be so soon! All the Generals thought it would take them at least 90 days to move heavy forces to the region, and not one of them, not one, ever suggested they could come first to Israel. Everyone thought they would go to Oman. Now we are in a different war, Uday. Now we are no longer looking to keep what we have taken. The very survival of the Baath Party and the Iraqi State is now on the table. So I am immediately ordering the Republican Guard units in the south to withdraw. Those divisions will move north at once, along with Hammurabi and the Qusay Hussein Armored Division. That, at the bare minimum, must get north to see to the defense of Iraq. Furthermore, I will order all the National Guard Territorial Brigades to return to their native command centers, and rebuild. This must be done quickly. We have only the time it will take them to cross the sea and debark in Israel.”
“But we must leave enough to hold the line in the south,” Uday insisted. “Otherwise we will lose everything we have fought for!”
“What do we have in Saudi Arabia, brother? Nothing more than the same sand that surrounds us here in Iraq. We could not reach Ghawar, or even take Jubayl. As for Kuwait, that is another matter. Yes, we will hold out there as long as possible, because our presence inside Saudi Arabia gives us something to trade at the negotiation table, and our aim will be to keep all of Kuwait. If need be, all of our forces in the south will withdraw to the Kuwaiti frontier, but no farther. We have too much to defend in the south, Basrah, Abadan, and all the great oil fields in that region. So if they wish to take them back, it will be over our dead bodies.”
There was silence for a time, until Uday spoke again. “And that may be, brother. Yes… that may very well be. But before such a thing could happen, we will burn everything to the ground, and crush their bones while we are at it.”
“A brave thing to say, Uday. Let us hope you are the one who is correct in this, because if the Americans come here to Iraq, they may not leave for a very long time.”
“Then we will make Iraq a living hell for them, you will see. Yes, a living hell, and Allah, in his mercy, will smite them.”
“Oh? As he smites you for your wanton and lascivious behavior?”
“Brother,” said Uday, feigning injury with a wry smile. “Everyone knows I am favored by Allah, as are you. That is why we take all he has given us, and relish it so.”
* * *
“Jake, by God, we’ve got a mission!” It was Colonel Albert Beecham, the Brigade Liaison to Division HQ, and word had just come down to prepare for imminent deployment.
“So I’ve heard,” said Brigadier Kinlan. “We’re going to Israel.”
“Israel? Not us, Jake. No, they’re sloughing us off for something else. The other three brigades are off to Haifa, but we’ve got something very interesting.”
“Well , don’t keep me in suspense, Al. What is it?”
“We’re going to Egypt.” Beecham crossed his arms, smiling. “Parliament has been in a row over this business at Sultan Apache, and apparently we’re going down to sort it out.”
“What? To the Egyptian desert? How in bloody hell do they propose to get us there?”
“Ah, this is where it gets interesting. We go by sea, of course, with the rest of the division, but not to Haifa. I was told we’re staying afloat, or perhaps we put into Heraklion on Crete. Nobody seemed to know which. Well, I nosed about at division HQ, and lo and behold I ran into Sims. He has our orders, and he’s on the way here.”
“Did he say anything about them?”
“Of course! You don’t think I’d let him button up on something like that, do you? Jake, we’re going to Tobruk!” Again that winning smile, Beecham’s blue eyes bright over his ruddy cheeks.
“That’s in Libya,” said Kinlan. “A moment ago you said we were going to Egypt.”
“We are, but we can’t bloody well land on the Egyptian coast. Mersa Matruh is the only port that could handle us west of Alexandria, and the Egyptians have a brigade sitting there. So we’re going into Libya—at Tobruk.”
“Tobruk…” Kinlan felt a strange chill sweep over him at the mention of the place. That was the port where the ammo ships blew sky high during the last war, and something about that incident had always bothered him… frightened him. It was just old history, he knew, but it was most unnerving.
“40 Commando leads the way. They’ll get hold of the docks and quays, and we come in right after them. Then we form up and road march south along the Egyptian border, all the way to Jarabub. That’s Able One. From there it’s on to Able Two—Siwa, but we won’t be alone. 16th Air Assault is coming right off Queen Elizabeth and the landing ships and thumping it all the way to Jarabub ahead of us. By the time we get there, they’ll have a Forward Operating Base set up, and control of the small airfield there. We top off the tanks, then it’s off to Siwa, in Egypt, and that’s just 50 road miles to Sultan Apache.”
“By God,” Kinlan breathed. Who dreamt up this little nightmare?”
“Came right out of the central planning group,” said Beecham. “We’re to find and rescue all British nationals on site, and get them safely back to Siwa. From there they go by plane and helicopter to the fleet, or on to Crete. There’s also an option to move them overland by truck.”
“How do we know those people are even there?”
“Intel has that locked down. Don’t worry. Our job is to get them out alive and well. It won’t be easy, because the Egyptians stormed the place two weeks ago with a special forces Brigade. That’s where we come in, and we’ll have the
16th Air Assault watching our flanks and back. What a show, Jake. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
Kinlan nodded, a bit lost in his mind over this. Something kept gnawing at him, ever since Beecham mentioned Tobruk. That night he would have the strangest dream he could imagine. He was face to face with a Russian Navy Captain…. In the desert… In Egypt… In WWII….
There was movement from the grey brown sand out beyond the sheltering tent set up off the hatch of the FV432. Then one of the Staff Officers, the man named Simpson, emerged with another report.
“Excuse me, sir. Reeves’ scout section is back. They’ve a number of men in jeeps, a bunch of throwbacks, or so they appear. Jeeps look to be old relics, and one man is claiming to be a General O’Connor.”
That was where it started to get barmy—O’Connor. Kinlan had heard of the General, a desert warrior in the early British offensives in Egypt and Libya. This was obviously not that man, just another with a famous name, but he had never heard of a General O’Connor in the active service, and for that matter, what would a British General be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?
“Very well,” said Kinlan, the same problem on his hands, unresolved insofar as he was concerned. “Bring the man in. Maybe he can make more sense than this one.” He gave the Russian Navy Captain a disparaging look, a man called Fedorov.
“General Richard O’Connor,” Fedorov tried again. “Real man—from 1941. Look close at this man. Check photos. Look close at Popski. Look at jeeps. All 1940s!”
“Or all some elaborate theater you Russkies cooked up to hold up my column so you can lob another warhead or two our way.”
Yes… There had been a great light in the sky, obviously a massive detonation. Kinlan knew it must have been a nuclear tipped missile, and that it may have been meant for him, intending to wipe out his command and the entire Sultan Apache Oil Concern in one throw.
“No! Not true. No more missiles,” said Fedorov. “Let your eyes prove this. See General O’Connor. Then you believe….”
Kinlan took that all in, his eyes fixed on Fedorov, seeing the urgency in the man, hearing the sincerity in his tone of voice, and the desperate need to be believed.
“This all happened as I say,” said Fedorov. “An accident, but all true. Otherwise, you tell me, General Kinlan. Where is Sultan Apache? Go look with your own eyes!”
Chapter 14
Where is Sultan Apache?
That was the last fragment Kinlan remembered when he woke, and one of the first things he did that morning was look for a map. He knew of the big British Petroleum operation in Egypt, but now that he was going there, he’d better know the way. Most of Egypt beyond the Nile Delta was a complete desert wasteland. The Western Desert stretched south from the coast, to the rocky edge of the Great Qattara Depression that curved southwest towards the Oasis of Siwa. Between that depression and Siwa, just beyond the smaller Cara Oasis, was Sultan Apache, a sprawling oil drilling and refining operation that stretched for miles. A pipeline ran north around the great curve of the depression, all the way to Mersa Matruh on the coast.
Pipelines were the arteries and veins of the world these days. Another stretched south from Tobruk, which was now an oil terminal. It reached for another big oil development at Sarir in Libya, and Kinlan noted that the way south would follow that pipeline for some time before veering southeast towards Jarabub. That was his first objective, Able One, and the faster he got there, the better.
Intelligence noted there were not many regular Egyptian Army units in the central desert region, just that special forces brigade sitting on Sultan Apache. There was no rail connection leading to the area, so any other forces would have to come overland, heading west from the Nile. The most immediate threat might be the Egyptian 3rd Mech Division, three brigades, with the closest one garrisoned at the southern oasis of Bahariya. The other two were on the Middle Nile. How soon before they could reach his operational area?
He looked over the current structure of the Egyptian Army. That division organized its infantry brigades with two mech infantry battalions, and one armored battalion, Then there was a third brigade, with three more armor battalions and a mech battalion. That was a lot of tanks, an estimate of 180 in all, mostly the older Ramses III, but with some newer Ramses V. He would be taking just 48 Challenger II’s into the desert on this jaunt, outnumbered almost four to one in tanks. His Challengers were the superior tank, of that he had no doubt, but there was always something to be said for sheer numbers and mass. Beyond that, there was another armored brigade, the 10th, up on the coast near Mersa Matruh. That wasn’t likely to bother him on the way south, but what if it moved west along the coast to threaten Tobruk? Getting out may not be as easy as getting in.
To forestall that possibility, the planners had penciled in the British 11th Infantry Brigade plucked from 1st Division. That was a fine outfit, but it was an all infantry force, and that Egyptian 10th Armored Brigade might have as many as 108 tanks…. He decided something more had to be done about this, and that morning, he took the matter right in to 3rd Division HQ, getting a meeting with General “Black” Jack Arnold, the British 3rd Division commander. Named for his dark oily hair, Black Jack was busy with a ream of reports and status updates as his division prepared to embark.
“Morning Jake, ready for the show?” The General gave him a hearty handshake.
“Ready as a man can be,” said Kinlan. “But sir, that’s what I’ve come to wag about. You’ve seen the intelligence, I’ve no doubt. When we get down south to Siwa and the BP site, we could be looking at a full mechanized division coming at us from the east.”
“You’ll handle them,” said the General. “Their tanks are old hat. Put your squadrons in good defensive positions and you can pick them off like ducks on a pond.”
“Well sir, it’s really not my situation that I’ve come about. It’s 11th Brigade at Tobruk. The Egyptians have a full armored brigade at Mersa Matruh. Suppose it moves west? It could cut us off, root and stem.”
“I doubt if the Egyptians would cross the Libyan border.”
“Why not, sir? We’re certainly taking liberties. Seizing Tobruk like this is damn cheeky. I hope the planners know the Libyans have a regular army as well.”
“I’m sure they’ve looked at it, Jake. In fact, I was told that Colonel Staunton was the one who pulled in the 11th Brigade to hold Tobruk. He’s a senior officer on the planning staff.”
“Right sir, but that’s light infantry. I’d feel a whole lot better if we could get them something in the way of tank support. Might you be able to spare a company or two from the Royal Wessex Yeomanry?”
That was the battalion attached to 3rd Division HQ, a reserve to be used at the commander’s discretion. General Arnold gave Kinlan a look. He knew the man well, and also knew that it was very unlike Kinlan to step forward with a request like this, not unless he had a real concern. At the moment, that was all properly masked behind propriety here, but the General could see through a brick wall when it came to his men.
“Right,” he said, thinking. He was already a full brigade light as he contemplated the big operation slated for Iraq—Able Fire. At the same time, he wasn’t alone in that. The Yanks were putting in a full heavy armored division, the French had their 7th Armored Brigade, the Germans and Italians also bringing in tanks. It was real clout, and now he looked at things from Kinlan’s perspective. He was being asked to take a single brigade, which had but one battalion of armor, all of 300 plus miles into Egypt, and his L.O.C .was being anchored at Tobruk by light infantry. He pursed his lips, nodding.
“Well you’ve got it, Jake. I’ll detach the whole damn battalion for Tobruk, and see that the planners hear about it today.”
That lifted Kinlan’s mood considerably. “Excellent,” he said, smiling. “Thank you, sir. Sorry we won’t be with you in Iraq.”
“We’ll manage,” said Arnold. “I think you’ve got the short end of the stick with this jog down to Siwa. But I can’t think o
f a better man I’d pick for the job.”
That doubled the number of Challenger II’s available for Just Resolve, and it went a long way towards allaying Kinlan’s fears and worries over the situation. It wasn’t that he thought his men weren’t up to the job. Now he had adequate force in hand, and they would pull through, one way or another. It was just these nagging memories, snippets, premonitions, and an odd feeling of Déjà vu. Was it just that silly dream he had, listening to a Russian Navy Captain trying to convince him he was about to meet General Richard O’Connor of WWII fame?
Nonsense…. He had the Royal Wessex Yeomanry in his pocket, and that was all he needed.
* * *
The morning of January 4th, as the new year dawned, Israeli F-15 and F-16 fighters took to the skies, as they had each day for the last month. They would climb, watched by the Egyptians on radar, then vanish as they dove for the sea, not seen again until they returned to their bases, circling like the birds of prey they were named after. It was all very routine, and the Egyptians would mount their French built fighters, and Chinese J-10’s to scramble every morning, but never see an enemy plane.
This day was different. The planes climbed, then dove for the sea, turning west over the wave tops towards Egypt. At the same time, American F-22 Raptors took off from bases on Crete, heading south, and F-35’s rose from the deck of the Harry S. Truman in the Med. The battle for control of the skies over Sinai was about to begin.
The Egyptians had a mix of older French Mirage 5, 2000 and Rafale fighters, and two squadrons of Chinese J-10’s. They would be no match for the advanced and ruthlessly efficient Western Air forces, with planes that could not be seen or tracked on Egyptian radars. The opening air campaign would therefore be one of sweeping the skies clear over Sinai, then neutralizing Egyptian air bases in the Nile Delta region, and suppressing their SAM sites that might interfere with close air support missions over Sinai.
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