Sword Point (19 page)

Shortly after that the fleet went to general quarters and began to take evasive maneuvers. At first light half of the Yak-36 fighters had scrambled from the Gorki. It wasn’t until 0800 that the ship’s captain had begun to release the men for breakfast and then only one third at a time. While the men ate, no one dared speculate or inquire as to why the unusual behavior. They would be told in time, one petty officer said, if they needed to know.

Admiral Boleylev and his staff would not have been able to give their men a clear answer if they had wanted to. They were operating in the dark just as the crews of their ships were. The call to general quarters, the evasive maneuvers and the combat air patrol were in reaction to a series of reports that were not clear and could mean anything. The first report, with which the duty officer had woken the Admiral, was that there had been a sudden and unexplained surge of encoded communications traffic from the American carrier battle group operating to the north of them in the Arabian Sea.

They had even intercepted several uncoded ship-to-ship communications from the U.S. S. Franklin and her escort that talked about transfer of wounded and survivors. This had been rapidly followed by an increase in air patrols by the U.S.S. Hornet’s carrier battle group to the south of them and initiation of electronic jamming of the Gorki’s long-range radars. The

Gorki was now running blind.

Boleylev sat in the officers’ mess but could not eat. The only reason he was there was that he needed a break.

His stomach was upset by acid from too much coffee and from nerves. He was pushing himself too hard. Not that he had much of a choice. The orders given to him before they sailed from Vladivostok were to proceed to the Indian

Ocean, where his fleet would put pressure on and harass U.S. naval forces. On order he was to neutralize the base at Diego Garcia and commence operations against U.S. convoys headed into Iran.

The

Gorki and the task force built around her were outnumbered in ships three to one and in carrier aircraft four to one. Rather than Boleylev’s putting pressure on the Americans and harassing them, the Americans were doing it to him.

There were two carrier battle groups, one north of him, built around the

U.S.S. Franklin and the battleship U.S.S. Utah, and one south of him with the U.S.S. Hornet. The day before, the Utah had detached itself from the

Franklin’s battle group and headed south toward the Gorki. Contact had been lost shortly before nightfall yesterday. This worried Boleylev, especially since patrols from the Gorki had so far failed to find the Utah that morning. In addition, the normal morning recon flight made by U.S. aircraft had not yet been reported. The two U.S. carrier battle groups tracked the

Gorki constantly and alternated “practice” strikes against Boleylev’s task force daily in an attempt to keep him off balance and wear down his men. On one such occasion, all the planes from both carriers popped up over the horizon and came in from all points of the compass toward the Gorki at full speed. The speed of the attack and the surprise it had achieved had almost resulted in a shooting incident.

As a result, very tight control was maintained on the ship’s surface-to-air missiles. Standing orders were that they could be fired only on Boleylev’s orders. He did not want to start a war with the U.S. accidentally.

In the Gorki’s operations center the air-defense officer stared at his radar screen and his instruments. For the last hour and a half he had seen nothing but static. The Americans were jamming his radar. Though that could be considered a hostile act, the air-defense officer was sure nothing would come of it. The strength of the jamming indicated that the source was relatively near, probably a carrier-launched

EA-6B Prowler, an aircraft specially built to conduct electronic-warfare operations. Whatever the source, it rendered the ship’s radars ineffectual except for very close in. To overcome this, the escorts had dispersed more widely than normal in order to increase the early-warning distance for the task force and, in particular, the Gorki.

It was the electronic-warfare officer who detected the incoming missiles.

Faint signals were heard. The electronic-warfare officer leaned forward and listened intently. When he was sure of the signals, he notified the air-defense officer that multiple Harpoon missiles were inbound. A computer plot indicated an intercept course with the Gorki and the cruiser Kynda, which was providing close-in protection for the Gorki. The air-defense officer hesitated. He had not seen anything quite like these plots before.

The radar was still unable to provide the computer with the clear data needed to positively identify them. Whatever they were, their number continued to grow: from six to ten, to fifteen, to twenty-one and still more coming. The air-defense officer finally recognized the missile attack for what it was just as a wave of similar plots began to appear from the south.

He hit the ship’s alarm and shouted over the intercom that they were under attack from thirty-plus antiship missiles. With the incoming missiles too close for the jamming to have any effect, the Gorki’s computer began to relay accurate information to the ship’s officers and weapons systems, and antimissile missiles were automatically trained on the incoming missiles.

Green lights flashed on the control panel, indicating that the systems were locked on and ready to fire. All that was needed was the initiation of the automated defense sequence.

The air-defense officer, however, did not initiate it. He was, as the standing orders stated, waiting for the order from the ship’s captain.

The captain, in turn, was waiting for the order from the Admiral, who was, at that moment, scrambling up a ladder to the control room, wondering why the antimissile missiles had not yet been launched.

Boleylev stormed into the control room, out of breath and yelling,

“Fire, damn it, fire!” just as the first U.S.made Harpoon missile slammed into the Gorki just above the waterline.

Bandar Abbas 1107 Hours, 16 June (0737 Hours, 16 June,
GMT
) The C-141 was coming into Bandar Abbas low over the Persian Gulf as instructed. Aboard it, Major General Edgar Thorton, commanding general of the 12th Infantry Division (Light), was miffed. The General wanted to make a grand entrance into Iran. Skipping over the water like a stone seemed undignified somehow. At least he had taken the precaution of sending his chief of staff and the division’s public-affairs officer, or
PAO
, with the advance party to ensure that all would be ready when “Condor Six,” as

Thorton was called, came walking down the ramp into the war.

The greeting Condor Six got was far from the one that he had planned for.

As he walked down the ramp of the C-141 onto the runway, what he saw was an

MP lieutenant and two hummers with machine guns mounted and manned. The 12th Division’s band, the
PAO
and his photographers and the special honor guard with the division’s colors were not there. Thorton stopped midway down the ramp and let out a stream of obscenities. Refusing to continue, he ordered his aide to find out from the MP lieutenant what was going on and why the reception for the division was not ready.

Dutifully, the aide trotted down the ramp, spoke to the MP lieutenant and trotted back up to his general’s side to report. The MP

lieutenant, according to the aide, knew nothing of the planned reception, had no idea where the 12th Division’s chief of staff was and had orders to take the

General to meet with the corps commander without delay.

Thorton swore loudly. Totally put out by the failure of his people to do as they had been told, he was in no mood to hop into a hummer with a second-lieutenant messenger boy and miss the chance of a lifetime. The first units of his division were due to arrive momentarily. He intended to greet them with full honors, a speech and a review of troops. He began to issue a string of orders. His aide was sent to find a photographer from somewhere. A major was sent with the MP lieutenant to find out what the corps commander wanted.

Another officer was instructed to begin marshaling the soldiers of the division into ranks as they deplaned and to find a suitable place from which the General could address them when they were assembled. The 12th Infantry

Division was going to march into Iran and be greeted by the division commander in a manner befitting the occasion.

The preparations for the General’s greeting to his troops were interrupted by a pair of hummers that came careening across the airstrip and stopped in front of the ad-hoc reviewing stand. Thorton was beside himself with rage until he saw the deputy commander of the 13th Airborne Corps get out of the lead hummer. As if he had flipped a switch, Thorton’s face changed from anger to a broad grin, and he walked over to greet the deputy commander, extending his hand.

Instead of accepting the hand, the deputy blurted, “Thorton, what in hell do you think you’re doing? The corps commander is waiting for you and is fit to be tied.”

Thorton stopped. Obviously the people at Corps were in a foul mood.

Continuing to grin, he tried to put the best possible light on the subject.

“Gee, Tom, I sent one of my people to find out what the corps commander wanted while I stayed to greet my people as they came in.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” the deputy said. “You ignored the commander’s instructions so that you could stay here and put on your Hollywood production. Don’t you know there’s a fucking war going on?”

The deputy had gone too far, had hit too near the mark. Thorton changed expressions and went over to the attack. “Yeah, I know there’s a war on.

And the division that’s going to take care of those camel herders is coming in and is going to receive an appropriate welcome. The Muslim rag heads can wait another hour before we make them martyrs.” The deputy looked at Thorton for a moment before he 134 continued.

“Obviously, General, you don’t understand what’s going on. We’re no longer concerned with the Iranians.

It’s the Russians we’re concerned with now. Since this morning we have been at war with the Soviet Union. Now get off your high fucking horse and get in the hummer. The corps commander is waiting.”

Thorton was dumbfounded. He had had no idea that the Soviets were now fighting the United States. Without further ado, he followed the deputy and headed off to see his commander.

Memphis, Tennessee 0237 Hours
CST
, 16 June (0837 Hours, 16 June,
GMT
) Like most of the men in the 2nd Battalion of the 354th Infantry, Ed Lewis had taken advantage of the three-day break they had before departing for

Iran to visit his family and say goodbye properly. He was almost sorry he had. The situation at home was very strained. Everyone, including Lewis himself, was trying hard to make believe that this was nothing more than another training exercise. No one talked about Iran or Lewis’ impending departure. This pretense made everyone even more uncomfortable and on edge.

Each night Lewis’ wife would lie next to him awake, unable to settle down.

When she thought he was asleep, she would get up and go into their bathroom and cry. Lewis heard her tonight, but said nothing. When she finally calmed herself and returned to bed, he rolled over and put his arm around her.

With her emotions vented, and comforted by her husband, she drifted off to sleep. When she had done so, Lewis got up carefully and went downstairs to watch the news on the cable network, something that he didn’t do when his wife was awake, for fear of upsetting her.

The news of the U.S.S. Franklin and the retaliations by aircraft from the

Hornet against Soviet warships in the Indian Ocean did not surprise Lewis, disturbing though it was. A confrontation had been inevitable.

Everyone had expected it. In fact, now that it had happened, things seemed clearer, easier.

What did disturb Lewis the most was that while he watched satellite films of the Franklin burning, while men were dying thousands of miles away, the news program was interrupted by commercials for a product to shrink swollen hemorrhoids and for a new improved panty shield to protect ladies’ underwear. The new war, obviously, wasn’t interfering with the pressing demands of life in the United States.

Logistics is the ball and chain of armored warfare.

-
HEINZ
GUDERIAN

Fort Hood Officers’ Club 2150 Hours, 24 June (0350 Hours, 25 June,
GMT
)

When the farewell ball for the brigade had been proposed by the wife of the brigade commander, it had seemed like a good idea-at least to her and to some of the other older wives. True, no one was sure of what proper etiquette demanded when it came to sending one’s spouse to war.

The last war that anyone had any experience with had been Vietnam. But that war had been far different for the wives, who had seen their husbands go to war one at time except in a few rare cases. They remembered it as a very lonely and personal affair. It was because of this that the older wives pushed for the ball. It would give them a last night together before the two groups, the husbands and the wives, parted and dealt with their own little wars.

The commencement of hostilities between the U.S. and the Soviet Union had acted like a wet blanket on the entire affair. While it had been disquieting to imagine one’s spouse going to war against the Iranians, it was even more so now that the Russians were actually shooting at Americans. The more realistic wives said that it had been inevitable, some even claiming it had been planned. But even the most cynical had hoped that somehow that conflict could be avoided. There had always been the hope that this crisis would blow over and go away.

The latest news reports coming from Southwest Asia crushed those hopes, however, on a daily basis. First there was the commitment of the 17th Airborne Division, followed by strong resistance from the Iranians and by mounting casualties. The sinking of the

U.S.S. Franklin and the Gorki began a cycle of retaliation and escalation.