The battalion commanders looked over the results of their training exercise with satisfaction. Their newly acquired GPS locators had been like magic, and now the Iraqis understood one of the reasons why the Americans had treated them so harshly in 1991. With GPS one didn’t need roads at all. The Arabic culture had long termed the desert a sea, and now they could navigate on it like sailors, moving from point to point with a confidence they had never known before.
Corps and divisional staff officers knew why this was so important. They had just been issued new maps, and with them a new mission. They also learned that their three-corps mechanized force had a name, the Army of God. By tomorrow, sub-unit commanders would be briefed in on that, and many other things.
IT TOOK AN hour for them to get in. Admiral Jackson had been sleeping in his office, but Secretary Bretano had gone
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home after a marathon session of reviewing deployments within the country. The White House dress code had been relaxed, they saw. The President, also red-eyed, was wearing doctor clothes.
Dan Murray and Ed Foley repeated their brief.
Jackson took it well: “All right. Now we know what we’re up against.”
Bretano did not: “This is an overt act of war.”
“But we’re not the objective,” the DCI told him. “It’s Saudi Arabia, and all the other Gulf states. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He figures that if he takes over those states, we can’t nuke him–it would turn off the oil for the whole world.” The DCI almost had it right, but not quite.
“And he has India and China in his pocket,” Robby Jackson went on. “They’re just running interference, but it’s good interference. Ike’s in the wrong place. The Indians have their carriers blocking the Straits of Hormuz. We can’t get the MPS ships in without air cover. Zap, he moved those three corps down. The Saudis’ll fight, but they’re outmanned. It’s over in a week, maybe less. Not a bad operational concept,” the J-3 concluded.
“The bio-attack’s pretty clever, too. I think they got more than they bargained for. Almost every base and unit we have is out of business at the moment,” SecDef observed, catching up fast on the operational side.
“Mr. President, when I was a boy in Mississippi, I remember the Klukkers used to say, when you see a mad dog, don’t kill the poor thing–toss it in somebody’s backyard. You know, some sheet-head actually did that to us once, ’cause my pap was real big on getting people registered to vote.”
“What did you do, Rob?”
“Pap blew it away with his Fox double,” Admiral Jackson replied. “And continued the mission. We have to move fast if we’re going to move. Problem is, what with?”
“How long before the MPS ships get to Saudi?”
“Just under three days, but there’s somebody in the way. CINCLANT’S cut orders for that surface group to scoot down the Suez, and they can be at the strait in time, but we gotta get those tank-carriers past the Indians first.
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Those four boats are escorted by one cruiser, two ‘cans, and two frigates, and if we lose them, nearest equipment re-supply’s in Savannah, sir.”
“What do we have in storage in Saudi?” Ben Goodley asked.
“Enough for a heavy brigade. Same in Kuwait. The third brigade-set is afloat and standing in harm’s way.”
“Kuwait’s first in line,” the President said. “What can we get there?”
“If we’re balls-to-the-wall, we can fly the 10th ACR out of Israel to mate up with the POMCUS site south of Kuwait City. That we can do in twenty-four hours. The Kuwaitis’11 handle transport. They have a quiet understanding with Israel on that. We helped broker it,” Robby said. “The plan’s called BUFFALO FORWARD.”
“Anybody think that’s a bad idea?” Jack asked.
“One armored cavalry regiment–I don’t think it’s enough to deter them, sir,” Goodley said.
“The man’s right,” the J-3 agreed.
Ryan looked around the table. Knowing was one thing. Being able to act was something else. He could order a strategic nuclear attack on Iran. He had B-2A stealth bombers at Whiteman Air Force Base, and with the information he’d been given in the past two hours, getting CINC-STRIKE to validate the order under the two-man rule would not be a problem. The “Spirits,” as the B-2s were called, could be there in less than eighteen hours, and turn that nation into a smoking, poisoned ruin.
But he couMn’t do that. Even if he had to, he probably couldn’t. Though American Presidents had long been faced with the necessity of telling the world that, yes, we will launch our missiles and bombers if we have to, it was a duty Ryan never expected to carry out. Even this attack on his country, the use of weapons of mass destruction– to America the equivalent of nuclear arms–had been the decision of one man, and carried out by a relative handful. Could he flatten whole cities in response, kill the innocent as Daryaei had done, because the other guy had done it first? And live with himself afterward? There had to be something better, some other option. Killing Daryaei was one.
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“Ed?”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Where are Clark and Chavez right now?”
“Khartoum, still, awaiting instructions.”
“Think they can get into Tehran again?”
“Won’t be easy, sir.” He turned to his wife.
“The Russians have helped us in the past. I can ask.
What would their mission be?”
“Find out if they can get in first. We’ll figure out the
mission in a little while. Robby?” “Yes, Mr. President?”
“The 10th Regiment moves to Kuwait at once.” Jackson took a deep and skeptical breath. “Aye aye,
sir.”
TH ERE WAS TH E intermediary step of getting the approval of the Kuwaiti government. The Ambassador handled that. It did not prove to be hard. Major Sabah had kept his government informed of developments in their new neighbor to the north, and the satellite photos of the re-tracking of the UIR tanks turned the trick. With their own military fully activated, the Kuwait government telexed a formal request for America to commence an extended training exercise in the western part of their nation. This moved fast. The rulers of the small nation had fresh memories of earlier mistakes. Their only proviso was that the movement be made secretly, and America did not object. Within four hours, the plush, brand-new airliners of the national airline started lifting off, headed southwest over Saudi Arabia, and later turned north, up the Gulf of Aqaba.
The order was issued by Training and Doctrine Command, which administratively owned the 10th ACR, since it was technically a training establishment. Most other stateside units belonged to Forces Command, FORCECOM. The emergency-deployment order went by CaiTic-priority to Colonel Scan Magruder. He had roughly five thousand personnel to move, and that would require twenty jumbo flights. The roundabout routing made for a distance of 1,300 miles and three hours in each direction, with an
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hour’s turnaround time at both ends. But it had all been thought through, and the diminution of international air travel had made more aircraft available than the plan had anticipated for BUFFALO FORWARD. Even the Israelis cooperated. The pilots of the Kuwaiti jumbos had the singular experience of seeing F-15 fighters with blue Star of David markings flying escort as they came into the big Israeli air base in the Negev.
The first group out comprised senior officers and a security group to supplement the Kuwaiti guard force at the POMCUS site. The site was a group of warehouses containing the complete equipment set of a heavy brigade, which was exactly what the armored cavalry regiment was. The equipment was lovingly maintained by contractors, who were well paid by their Kuwaiti hosts.
The second aircraft had A-Troop, 1st of the 10th. Buses took them through the late-afternoon sun to their vehicles, which in every case started up at once, fully loaded with fuel and ammunition. A troop of the 1st “Guidon” Squadron rolled out under the watchful eyes of their squadron CO, Lieutenant Colonel Duke Masterman. He had family in the Philadelphia area, and he could add two and two together. Something very bad was happening in his country, and out of a clear sky BUFFALO FORWARD had been activated. That was fine with him, he decided, and his troopers.
Magruder and his staff also watched. He’d even insisted that the command group bring the regimental standard. This was the Cav.
“FOLEYEVA, IS IT that bad?” Golovko asked, meaning the epidemic. They were speaking in Russian. Though his English was nearly perfect, the CIA official spoke his native language with a poetic elegance learned from her grandfather.
“We don’t know, Sergey Nikolay’ch, and I have been looking at other things.”
“Ivan Emmetovich is bearing up?”
“What do you think? I know you saw the TV interview a few hours ago.”