Bright Star

Chapter 19

The trip from the 3rd Brigade command post to Task Force 3–5 Armor was done in total silence. The driver of Headquarters 6, the bumper number assigned to the task force commander's hummvee, kept his eyes glued to the trail and his instrument panel. Dixon hoped the lad was always that quiet. Though a casual conversation was good every now and then, there was nothing worse than having a driver whose mouth ran at a higher RPM rate than the transmission. Dixon liked to think when he was being driven from place to place. On this particular night he had much to think about.

His meeting with the commander of the 3rd Brigade had been long and quite informative. It started with a mission briefing by the brigade staff. Other than showing how the brigade viewed the enemy situation, the intelligence portion added very little to what Dixon already knew. With no organic recon elements deployed, all information the intel officer had came from the 2nd Corps intelligence summary, a copy of which was in Dixon's map case. The briefings by the brigade operations officer and fire support officer were more informative. Though Dixon knew what the 16th Division's mission was, he hadn't seen anything on how the 3rd Brigade intended to execute its assigned mission. Succeeding briefings by the brigade's personnel officer and logistics officer and commanders of combat support units attached to the brigade added little.

With the formal briefings over and a copy of the brigade operations order in hand, the brigade commander, Colonel Clyde Joy, accompanied by the brigade executive officer, had taken Dixon into his tent to discuss several matters with him. Joy went over again how he believed the operation would unfold and how he intended to fight it. Dixon learned a great deal from Joy in a very short period of time. It was critical that he be able to understand what was going on inside of Joy's head and how Joy viewed warfare. Even the words Joy used— "kill" instead of "engage," "attack" instead of "advance," "smash" instead of "destroy" — conveyed his personality and philosophy on waging war. Though some would argue that use of such colorful words was unnecessary, Dixon believed differently. The old adage "If he looks like a soldier, walks like a soldier, and talks like a soldier, by God, he's probably a soldier" was a fairly good gauge to go by when judging men. Until otherwise proven, Colonel Joy was a soldier in Dixon's eyes.

The major reason Joy wanted to talk to Dixon in private was to review how he, as the brigade commander, viewed Task Force 3–5 and its men. Joy prefaced that portion of the conversation by telling Dixon that under normal circumstances he would have allowed Dixon to discover who was good and who wasn't on his own. Given the timing and the nature of the operation, however, Dixon wouldn't have the chance. Starting with the task force's executive officer and operations officer, Joy went down the list, name by name, of the primary players in the task force. The story Joy told was not very encouraging. Under Lieutenant Colonel Vennelli, control and operation of the task force had been extremely centralized. And in a zero-defect environment, neither the staff nor the company commanders showed initiative.

Joy told Dixon that, given the prevailing conditions, the questionable ability of the officers, and the lack of time, he had a free hand in dealing with the unit's officers and NCOs. If Dixon thought that he needed to relieve a man, he was to do so. Joy would attempt to buy as much time as he could for Dixon to get a handle on things, but he didn't know how much time they had. Dixon, having listened to the 2nd Corps plans briefings, did. Whatever he had to do to make Task Force 3–5 Armor combat ready had to be accomplished within the next thirty-four hours.

Now, as the hummvee bumped and jerked along the desert track, Dixon mulled over how best to approach his assumption of command. He could go in like a lion, kicking ass and taking names. Though that might be effective in yielding some short-term results, the side effects might well spell disaster down the road. Or he could go in and let things ride as they were, dealing with each and every problem only as it came up. While he didn't know exactly how he would act, he knew how he wouldn't. Dixon had no intention of going into the unit like a lamb, the poor lost soul, the new boy on the block. Whether or not the soldiers of Task Force 3–5 Armor — officers, NCOs, and enlisted-liked him didn't matter to Dixon. Only two things mattered to him. One was that the task force made it to the Egyptian-Libyan border. The second was to ensure that most of the soldiers in that task force were still with it when they got there.

Dixon hadn't made up his mind when they pulled up near the tactical operations center, or TOC, of 3–5 Armor. Shutting off the engine, the driver pointed to the entrance of the TOC. Dixon got out and looked around. There were a number of other hummvees parked about the TOC in a haphazard fashion. None of them had camouflage nets up or even the hood raised to prevent glare from the windshield. As best he could see, there was no guard and no security about the command-post area or the TOC in particular. The TOC itself was poorly camouflaged. Its camouflage nets were dropping down and lying on the four command-post carriers and their canvas extensions. As a result, the camouflage nets did nothing, leaving the command post carriers and extensions clearly visible in the light of the three-quarter moon. Even worse, the noise of the vehicles running and the loud talking and laughing from the crowd gathered in the TOC could be heard all over the area. Dixon began to wonder if he had discounted the lion approach too soon.

Moving over to the TOC, Dixon found the entrance — three overlapping canvas flaps arranged to prevent light from escaping when someone entered or exited. It was like moving through a maze: first, you went between the first and second flaps to find the end; then you changed direction and went between the second and third flap; finally, you found the end of the third flap, then changed direction again before entering the interior. Often soldiers burdened with pistol belts, holsters, canteens, ammo pouches, protective masks, or other gear had difficulty moving through them. When frustration overcame good light discipline practices, soldiers stuck their arms through all three flaps, forced them apart, and entered straight in. With the skill of an officer who had spent many months in the field, Dixon began to tangle with the flaps.

Emerging on the interior, Dixon bumped into someone blocking the door. Whoever it was didn't move. Instead a voice asked, in a rather put-out manner, what he wanted. Dixon simply said, "I'm coming in," and pushed. Free of the flaps and blockage, Dixon stood upright in the TOC and was momentarily blinded by the bright lights: all he could make out was wall-to-wall people. Sensing that no one noticed him, Dixon called out, "Who's in charge here?"

From somewhere on the other side of the TOC, a voice responded above the babble of conversation. "Who wants to know?"

Something inside Dixon, probably his self-restraint, snapped. In as deep a voice as he could muster, Dixon responded, "Lieutenant Colonel Scott A. Dixon, commander of Task Force 3–5 Armor, that's who."

Silence descended upon the TOC as if someone had flipped a switch. All heads turned to the entrance as everyone tried to get a look at the new commander. Dixon returned the stare. The first man to move was a major, who plowed through the crowd to Dixon. Reaching him, he stuck his right hand out to shake Dixon's as he introduced himself. "Sir, I'm Larry Pettit, task force S-3."

Dixon raised his right hand to his forehead, saluting Pettit and catching him by surprise. As Pettit pulled his hand back and raised it to return the salute, the smile that had been on his face disappeared. "Sir, I apologize for not meeting you. I'm in charge here."

Dixon was about to ask where the task force's executive officer was when a soldier attempting to get into the TOC through the entrance flaps rammed his helmet into Dixon's back. Yelling through the flaps, the intruder warned everyone that Headquarters 6 was back and the new old man was in the area. Stepping aside, Dixon opened the third flap to allow the soldier in. When the intruder, a young sergeant E-5, came face to face with Dixon, Dixon looked him in the eyes. "Don't worry, son. They already know."

For several minutes there was a scramble as people who didn't need to be at the initial briefing left the TOC. The operations sergeant — a tall, blond, heavy-set sergeant first class — grabbed Dixon and took him to a seat, shoving a cup of coffee in his hand as he did so. The S-3, in the meantime, got all the primary staff officers, company commanders, and combat service support unit leaders seated. Dixon overheard Pettit tell the soldier manning the radios in the command post carrier to contact the XO and have him report to the TOC ASAP.

As everyone settled, Dixon, seated three feet from the task force map, began to study the graphics that represented the task force's plan for the upcoming operation. Sipping his coffee, he tried hard to make sense of the lines and circles drawn on the plastic overlay that covered the map. He did not like what he saw. The map of the area was attached cockeyed to a sheet of unpainted plywood. The plastic overlay was taped to the plywood map board with many short, torn-off strips of tape. There was no other information, friendly or enemy, posted on the map board. Even the plan itself bothered him. Try as hard as he could, Dixon could not see how the task force plan coincided with the brigade plan. Even worse, all the map sheets needed to show the operation were not put together and posted. The result was a series of lines (representing unit boundaries) and circles (representing objectives) sitting over blank plywood where the map had run out but the brigade plan hadn't.

Still, Dixon held his tongue. Perhaps, he thought, these people really do have their stuff together. Perhaps they have a good plan and just haven't been able to put together all the graphics and supporting data yet. Sitting back, Dixon cleared his mind and allowed the staff, orchestrated by the S-3, to brief their new commander. As they did so, Dixon's theory about them having a better plan than their map showed soon collapsed. Officer after officer stood up, mumbled, hemmed and hawed, danced this way and that before the map, then sat down without adding to Dixon's knowledge. Even when Dixon took into account that they were nervous, briefing their new commander for the first time, and preparing to go into combat, there was still no plan — at least not one that would support what the brigade commander intended to do. If there ever had been a plan, it died with the former task-force commander.

Just when Dixon had reached the conclusion that he had seen enough, the TOC entrance flaps flew open, allowing Major Jerry Grissins to enter. Without pausing, Grissins approached Dixon and reported, apologizing for not being there for Dixon's arrival: he had been, he explained, in the throes of securing two new engines and a transmission for three nonoperational tanks. Dixon nodded, telling Grissins that his arrival was timely, that he was about to end the briefings and issue some new guidance.

Dixon remained standing while he allowed the XO and the commanders and staff of the task force to settle. Once he had their undivided attention, he started. "First off, I want each and every one of you here to understand one thing. We are about to go to war. There is no 'maybe,' no 'possibly.' In less than thirty-two hours, this task force, and the rest of the 16th Armored Division, is going to cross the line of departure. When we do so, our sole task will be to close with and destroy the enemy by use of fire, maneuver, and shock effect." Dixon paused. Looking at them, he could tell that he had their undivided attention.

"You have all heard those words before. That happens to be the mission statement for the armored force. But I have no doubt that few of you have given serious thought to what that means. I'm going to tell you, right now. As a unit, we are going to leave here and attack. Right now, where that is doesn't matter. Even 2nd Corps doesn't know where we'll eventually smash into the enemy. But it will happen. Forget about rumors that there is a negotiated settlement in the offing. Forget about being held in reserve. Forget about making a policy statement with a simple show of force. In fact, forget about going home, 'cause you ain't!"

Easing back a bit and moderating his tone, Dixon let his last statement sit for a second before he continued. "I have been told that most of the men in this task force are not veterans. Well, in forty-eight hours, we will either all be veterans, or we will be dead. Do you know what will make the difference?" Dixon waited, then answered his own question. "We will, gentlemen — you and me. The commanders, the staff, and the noncommissioned officers of this task force are going to be the deciding factor in who wins and who loses, who lives and who dies.

"It's too damned late for us to retrain everyone in their job. Right now, either the tank and Bradley crews of this task force can put steel on target, or they can't. What we can do, the officers and NCOs, is give them a plan that's worth a shit — come up with the best possible scheme of maneuver that will allow them to place their weapons systems where they can do the most damage and then execute it.

"Company commanders, prepare to copy a new warning order." Pausing, Dixon folded his arms across his chest while he waited. When all four line company commanders were ready and looking at him, he issued his first order to the task force. "I want you to go back to your units and get some sleep. The staff and I are going to develop a new operations order tonight. That order will be ready and briefed at 0600 hours tomorrow morning here. At 1100 hours, we're going to have a full brief back from each of you as well as the engineer company commander, scout platoon leader, mortar platoon leader, and air defense platoon leader. That will be followed by a mounted rehearsal at 1400 hours. Some time between those, you're to conduct precombat inspections. Commanders, you're to coordinate those inspections with the S-3 so that I can be there when you do them. Use your time wisely, and do not forget a sleep plan for your men, your leaders, and especially yourself. Once we go into the attack, we are going to be moving fast, and we ain't stopping till we hit the Libyan border."

Dixon stopped, pondering whether he wanted to say more or hold it at that. There was so much to cover, so much to say, to discuss. But time would not permit him to cover it all. There was only so much he could do. He hoped that those things he chose to do were the best and wisest, the ones that would better their chances for success and survival. Deciding that he had said enough, Dixon dismissed the company commanders and told the XO to gather up the staff. There was a plan that needed to be developed and an order to write.

On the side of the road, Colonel Hafez stood counting his vehicles as the remains of the Republican Brigade passed through the forward outpost line of the 3rd Armored Division, Egyptian 2nd Army. Next to him at the passage point were the commanders of both the 2nd Army and the 3rd Armored Division. They had both come forward to see Hafez, now the commander of the Republican Brigade, and receive his report and observations. Of ninety-four tanks that had been with the Brigade on 16 December, Hafez counted only thirty-seven returning to friendly lines that night. From the Libyan border to where they stood, the Brigade had fought the Libyans in a dozen minor fights, mauling its lead division. In their wake they had left hundreds of burning vehicles and thousands dead and dying.

As terrible as the cost had been to Hafez's Brigade, the sacrifice had not been in vain. Two complete divisions of the 2nd Army, the 3rd Armored and the 10th Mechanized, had been able to deploy and assume hasty defensive positions from El Daba to Sidi Ibeid in the south. South of Sidi Ibeid, the American air assault brigade prepared to conduct a covering force operation between Sidi Ibeid and the Qattara Depression.

While they waited, a staff officer from the 2nd Army briefed Hafez on his next mission. When he told Hafez that he would become part of the army's reserve force, Hafez protested. Not letting the staff officer continue, he went over to the commander of the 2nd Army to protest. In a tone that bordered on insubordination, Hafez said that he and his soldiers had retreated too far and been in reserve too long. He demanded that they be allowed to participate in the counteroffensive. Though surprised, the general was pleased at Hafez's fighting spirit. When he asked how soon Hafez could be ready to attack, Hafez thought for a moment before he responded: given fuel, ammunition, and some rest, twenty-four hours.

Without hesitation the 2nd Army commander turned to the commander of the 3rd Armored Division, informing him that the Republican Brigade was attached to his command under the provision that it would be the lead unit when the counteroffensive began. The commander of the 3rd Armored looked at Hafez, then at the commander of the 2nd Army. Saluting, he announced that it would be an honor to have such a unit under his command.

Though he was tired — more tired than he had ever been in his life — Hafez was satisfied. They would be able to go back, to inflict upon the Libyans a humiliating defeat that would not be forgotten and save the 1st Army. There was nothing, not even life itself, that was more important to Hafez at that moment than going back. Only when he was finished with his duty, only when he had done all that he could to right his terrible wrong, would he worry about atonement for his sins.

Colonel Nafissi watched as General Boldin, accompanied by his operations and political officers, climbed aboard their helicopter. Though he resented their meddling, the Russians were still a necessary evil. Nothing would please him more than to see the helicopter they were boarding shot down. If he had thought he could get away with it, he would have done it himself. As it was, with Russians all over, such an order would be hard to cover. Instead, he had to pray that the cursed Egyptians would do so.

In a meeting called by Boldin, Nafissi had listened politely as the Russians explained the situation as they saw it. The Soviet Union, Boldin pointed out, was willing to support the defense of Libya. The attack of the 24th Tank Corps and the 8th Division had, as Boldin pointed out, amply demonstrated that. Nafissi's operations east of Mersa Matruh, however, exceeded Libya's claim of self-defense by a wide margin. To continue east would cost them what little support they, the Soviet Union and Libya, had in the United Nations and the world community in general. Even the use of chemical weapons, stringently denied by both parties, could be ignored if a solution could be found before full commitment of American forces.

When Nafissi asked what difference the pitiful number of American forces in Africa would make, Boldin deferred to the political officer. The political officer, a colonel, answered carefully. "You must understand our position. We cannot afford even the appearance of a defeat. What we stand to lose in prestige around the world far outweighs any short-term advantages we might gain in Africa, even if we win. For years our premier has been working to build an image of trust and peace without giving up what our fathers gained with their blood and sweat. To survive and maintain our global interests, the Soviet Union needs peace and the cooperation of the West. When Russians start killing Americans, that peace and cooperation will cease."

Nafissi was confused. Interrupting, he asked about the raid on Al Fasher and the incessant naval bombardment.

"Those were small, isolated affairs," the political officer responded, carefully picking his words. "They can, through mutual agreement, be officially forgotten, if both sides so agree. A major ground battle between our units and American combat troops is another matter. We would have little choice but to respond in some way, somewhere. If that weren't possible in Africa, we would be forced to exert pressure elsewhere — Europe, or perhaps Central America. You see, what happens here could have worldwide repercussions. We, the Soviet Union, are a world power, with global responsibilities."

Without realizing it, the political officer had captured Nafissi's imagination. That was exactly what he wanted for Libya; that was exactly his goal. From the very beginning Nafissi had been looking for change, a change that would sweep the Arab world. To topple Egypt and replace her as the head of the Islamic world and the leading power in Africa was his ambition. What happened in Europe, the Soviet Union, and America was of little concern to him. If they fell into war among themselves, it did not matter to him. They were, after all, infidels, nonbelievers. Both the Russians and the Americans could be used as he saw fit. But to do so he needed time, just a little more.

Incessant delaying actions by small Egyptian units had cost the force that had invaded Egypt heavy losses, not to mention expenditure of munitions and other supplies — losses that it could ill afford. Nafissi's dream of reaching Alexandria and Cairo seemed to diminish with every kilometer they advanced and every battle they fought. The blocking of supply columns by the Soviets at Halfaya Pass threatened to stop his divisions entirely. Searching for a solution, Nafissi agreed that he would halt the eastward movement of his forces only after they reached defensible terrain. Citing the North African campaign in World War II as his defense, he claimed that he would be able to hold only after he reached a line running from Sidi Abd el Rahman to Jebel Kalakh. Only there, where the Mediterranean and the Qattara Depression restricted maneuver space, would his two divisions be able to hold until a cease-fire was arranged.

For several minutes Boldin and the political officer discussed the matter in Russian. Though the political officer was uneasy about doing so, Boldin and Nafissi agreed to suspend offensive operations after reaching the line specified by Nafissi. For his part Boldin knew that there were only two Egyptian divisions deployed along the coastal road. Those two divisions were insufficient for a counteroffensive. According to his operations officer, at least six divisions would be needed. It would be ten to fourteen days before the Egyptians could muster that force in the Western Desert. The deliberate buildup of combat power and stockpiling of supplies, necessary for a prolonged offensive much like that of the British in 1942, would take weeks. The weak American division, covering the entire area from Sidi Ibeid to the depression, would be hard pressed to secure the southern flank. Spread as it was, it would be useless in any offensive operations.

Since it was nothing more than a simple adjustment of the front line, Boldin insisted that he had the authority to make that decision. Militarily it was a sound decision. It would be foolish to leave the Libyans hanging out in the desert in positions that could not be defended. The political officer disagreed but, in this case, deferred to Boldin's judgment. The line Nafissi proposed was, after all, nearly the same one at which Rommel had held the 8th Army for months. So Boldin agreed to let Nafissi press on a little further. If he got out of hand, Soviet forces in Halfaya could always turn off his supplies again.

Now, with the Russian helicopter safely away, Nafissi returned to his bunker. He had to finish his final orders to his commanders in Egypt. In sealed orders Nafissi instructed his two division commanders to mass their forces and break through the new Egyptian line. Once they were through, Alexandria was only sixty miles away. Another battlefield defeat, followed by the appearance of Libyan forces in Alexandria, would be more than enough to bring down the Egyptian government. It had to be. It was Nafissi's last hope.

To a casual observer, the mounds of dirt, strips of cloth, and lengths of string spread across the sand were meaningless. To Captain Harold Cerro, his XO, his first sergeant, and the platoon leaders, platoon sergeants, and squad leaders of his company, they represented North Africa. Gathered around the captain's sand table, the leadership of B Company listened as Cerro reviewed the main points of the operation. Once he was done, each platoon leader would brief Cerro on how their platoons would perform their assigned tasks.

Using a section of antenna, Cerro pointed to each part of the sand table, identifying the terrain feature it represented. "Here, we have the coast of the Mediterranean in the north, and here, in the south, the Qattara Depression. Jebel Kalakh is here, Ras el Kenayis here." Cerro stopped and looked around the group. Everyone was listening and paying close attention. Their taut faces masked the wide spectrum of emotions, fears, and apprehensions that soldiers carry with them into battle. In the past, at times like this, Cerro would always attempt to relieve the strain with humor. Since his return from Sudan, however, he found little amusement in the growing war. Even if he had been so inclined, there was little in their upcoming operation that lent itself to humor.

"Our mission is to establish a blocking position here, where the coastal road and the railroad climb the high ground just south of Ras el Kenayis. We are to hold there, blocking traffic going back to Libya, until relieved by the 3rd Brigade, 16th Armored Division."

Cerro drew a line in the dirt west of the rock that represented Jebel Kalakh. "That brigade will cross a line of departure here, at 0600 hours, 21 December. That coincides with our insertion here." Cerro moved his pointer to the coastal road south of Ras el Kenayis. He then traced the route the 3rd Brigade would follow. "We expect that maneuver to take, at a minimum, twelve hours. Link-up between our airhead and the armored brigade will come no sooner than 1800 hours 20 December. Should the Libyans turn to block or attack the 3rd Brigade in the flank, one or both of the Egyptian divisions will attack the Libyans on or south of the coastal road. Any way you look at it, the Libyans will be between a rock and a hard place. In this operation, we have to be the hard place fighting any-and everyone that comes our way."

Pointing to blocks of wood with the numerals 1, 2, and 3 painted on them, Cerro showed where each of the platoons would go. The company would deploy between the railroad and the road near and on top of the escarpment that rose up from the coastal plain south of Ras el Kenayis. The other companies of the battalion were deployed on either side of Cerro's on the escarpment. A Company would be on the left, C Company to the right. The five platoons of the antitank company were divided between the three line companies, with Cerro's company getting two of them. These two platoons, each with four TOW antitank guided-missile launchers per platoon, would provide his companies long-range antitank capability. Six organic Dragon antitank guided-missile launchers and over two hundred single-shot AT-4 light antitank rocket launchers would provide medium-and short-range antitank firepower.

The other two infantry battalions of the brigade were deployed to the south, bent back to the west and almost to the coast west of Cerro's position. A Marine battalion, attached to the brigade for this operation and landed by the 6th Fleet twelve miles west of Cerro's position, completed the perimeter. They, like Cerro's battalion, would establish blocking positions on the coastal road where it descended off of the escarpment down to the coastal plain. One Marine infantry company, reinforced with a Marine tank platoon and traveling in LAV armored personnel carriers, constituted the brigade reserve. Located in the center on the coastal road, this reserve force would go wherever the Libyans threatened a breakthrough.

In addition to the weapons organic and attached to Cerro's company, fire support would be available from several outside sources. The brigade's eighteen-gun 155mm howitzer battalion, reinforced with a six-gun Marine battery, would eventually provide the bulk of the artillery support. The brigade, however, lacked sufficient helicopters to move itself in one lift. Four lifts, each taking over two hours, would be needed to move the entire brigade's combat power into the airhead. The artillery battalion was slated for the third lift. As a result, its guns would not be in place, ready to fire, until 1000 hours, four hours after Cerro's unit was on the ground. During that initial period, naval gunfire would provide artillery support. The USS Clancy, a Butterworth class destroyer, would be in direct support of Cerro's battalion. The battleship USS Kansas would also be on call to provide additional support as needed.

Attack helicopters, U.S. Army Apaches and Marine Corps Cobras, were also available as needed, should Cerro's unit be the target of a major Libyan counterattack. They would operate from a forward rearm and refuel point established in the center of the brigade's airhead or defensive perimeter. Finally, aircraft from the carrier Hornet provided both close air support and MIG cap, or air superiority.

Finished with his initial briefing, Cerro signaled the 1st Platoon leader to commence his brief back. Squatting down and balancing himself on the heels of his boots, Cerro listened as each principal leader in his company briefed him. He was interested in more than a simple regurgitation of the information he put out. Each platoon leader was expected to explain in detail how he would prepare and organize his platoon and position to accomplish its mission. Cerro mentally checked off each item as the platoon leader discussed the execution of his tasks. Whenever it was appropriate, Cerro made corrections or asked a question if the platoon leader said something that didn't make sense. In this way he made sure that all of his leaders understood their mission, had a plan for executing it, and understood what the other platoons in the company were doing. Only when he was satisfied that everyone understood his role and the roles of the other units in the company did Cerro release them.

The next step, precombat inspections, would take place that afternoon. While Cerro was checking the soldiers and their combat loads, First Sergeant Duncan and the executive officer had to check the loads that would be carried under the helicopters. Those loads included antitank mines, barbed wire, sandbags, five-gallon cans of water, extra rations, antitank guided missiles, small-arms ammunition, and, to assist in hauling these items around, two hummvees.

When everyone had dispersed, Cerro looked at his watch. He considered the timetable he had set up for preparation and inspection. There was more than enough time to do what was necessary, get some sleep, and make the 0545-hour liftoff the following morning. Getting ready and getting there were easy. It was after they got there that things would get interesting.

His first concern was having enough time to prepare his position before the Libyans attacked. His second was holding, once they were attacked, until relieved. Provided the intelligence officer was correct and his planning and the company's preparation were sound, they would have just enough time to prepare their positions. Holding on, however, was as much a matter of luck as it was of preparation. Success would come if he guessed right and the enemy cooperated, hitting Cerro's unit where he expected them. If, however, the enemy did not cooperate and did something unexpected, or showed up in greater strength than expected or earlier than anticipated, things would be rough.

For now, however, there was nothing for him to do. Looking about, Cerro saw his officers and NCOs going about their jobs. Rather than become a nuisance, he decided to find himself a quiet spot and have his breakfast. Walking over to where his rucksack was, Cerro reached down, stuck his hand inside, and rummaged about until he found an MRE. Pulling it out, he looked at the brown plastic bag. When he saw it was chicken a la king, Cerro made a face. It ranked next to the notorious pork pattie. The main course of micro chicken chunks and unidentified green, brown, and red particles were suspended in a tan gravy that had the consistency of vomit. As a joke, First Sergeant Duncan started the rumor that feeding chicken a la king to prisoners of war constituted a war crime. At least, Cerro thought, the crackers and candy would be edible.

Sitting in a hotel room, surrounded by equipment, suitcases, and clothing that still had store tags hanging from it, Jan Fields prepared for her next story. Originally brought out of Egypt to cover the meeting of the NATO ministers scheduled for 21 December, she was supposed to have a full day to recover and prepare herself. Her arrival in London, however, coincided with the surprise announcement that the President of the United States and the Soviet premier would meet in Reykjavik on the twenty-first. Instead of twenty-four hours, she was given less than four to pick up whatever winter clothing she needed before being rushed off to Iceland.

Caught in the eye of the storm, Jan had not kept up with all of the developments emanating from the conflict in Africa. Though appalled by the alleged use of chemical weapons and condemning Soviet intervention, most European nations had so far remained aloof and uncommitted. Active and increasing participation in the conflict by U.S. naval and ground forces, however, was forcing a decision upon those nations.

Italy, home base of the 6th Fleet, was the first to be drawn in. That government's decision to allow continued use of bases and facilities drew violent criticism from the Italian Communist party and an exchange of angry notes with the Soviet Union. Next came Britain, the home base for the F-111s that had hit Al Fasher. A letter of concern over the use of British bases for American aircraft involved in the war was sent from the premier of the Soviet Union to the British prime minister. The Soviet note was greeted with the announcement that ships of the Royal Navy would join the American 6th Fleet to ensure Egypt's sovereignty and free navigation of the Suez Canal. The Soviet response to the British announcement drew Turkey into the growing conflict. Transfer of ships from the Soviet Black Sea Squadron required traversing the Dardanelles. Turkey, a loyal NATO member, technically could not restrict the movement, as the conflict in Egypt was not a NATO matter. The issue was therefore officially ignored.

The next Soviet move, however, prompted out of necessity by the Al Fasher raid, could not be ignored by Turkey. A Soviet request to the Turkish government for permission for Soviet military aircraft to overfly Turkish air space was denied. In their response the Turkish government reminded the Soviet Union of preconflict agreements concerning overflights and the number of Aeroflot aircraft that were permitted into Turkish air space. The reaction by the Soviet Union was a harsh response and moves by the Black Sea Squadron that could only be interpreted as threatening.

Unable to maintain total neutrality, NATO called an emergency meeting of its ministers. This act alone, meant to be a low-key affair to discuss the position NATO should take in an open forum, caused concern in the Soviet Union. Within twelve hours of the announcement of the NATO meeting, Warsaw Pact units were placed in a higher state of vigilance. The Soviet move was nothing more than a gesture. As NATO is a military alliance, a military response was used to demonstrate Soviet concerns. Within six hours of the Soviet increase in vigilance, NATO units were ordered to an increased state of vigilance.

Seeing the situation deteriorating, on the nineteenth of December the President of the United States called for a meeting between the principals involved in the conflict. Egypt rejected this proposal out of hand, claiming that it would not negotiate while its 1st Army was being held hostage by Soviet forces. Libya followed suit in rejecting such talks, though its reasoning was questionable and unclear. The American President did not give up. He was determined to take positive action in order to avoid a full-fledged confrontation between the two great powers. In a message to the Soviet premier he insisted that a meeting take place immediately, even if it was just the two of them. That message, carefully leaked to the press corps, was greeted with great enthusiasm worldwide. Lost in that enthusiasm, however, was the President's warning that no agreement would be possible without Egypt's participation or agreement.

Reviewing the draft script and the background information provided by the WNN crew's field producer, Jan was appalled by its lack of depth. There were many words but no complete thoughts, lots of sweeping statements and cliches but no focus. It was as if the field producer were trying to cram the history of the Western world since World War II into a ninety-second news spot. Fay, Jan thought, would never have handed her garbage like that.

The sudden thought of Fay brought Jan's preparation to an abrupt halt. Fay, of course, couldn't help. She was dead. The last time Jan had seen her friend was in a hospital in Cairo, lying on a tile floor in a pool of her own blood, covered by a bloodstained sheet. Fay's death bothered Jan like nothing else she had ever experienced. The revulsion and despair were natural, human reactions. Given the circumstances, they were expected. But what really bothered Jan was her sudden feeling of relief. Fay's death left Jan's life less complicated. Scott Dixon was now unencumbered by a wife, even a divorced one.

That line of logic — so cold, so selfish, so spontaneous — appalled Jan more than anything else. Had she, in her years as a correspondent, become so cynical, so hardened to the horrors and woes of the world around her, that she no longer felt them? Had her training to look at the facts only and treat the human side of tragedy only as an adjunct to a story diminished her own ability to feel?

In the wake of that incident Jan seized the opportunity to go to Britain when it was offered. To stay in Egypt would be too much. Though she had no doubt that she truly loved Scott, she wanted some distance, both temporal and physical, in order to sort out her feelings. When, in calmer times, the opportunity to see Scott again arose, she wanted it to be on her terms, unencumbered by guilt, no longer haunted by the memory of Fay, as a friend or a rival.