policy.' He swallowed but the metallic taste lingered. 'We have viewed with alarm over the past twenty years the possession by your country of nuclear weaponry. Our intelligence is unassailable.' He was sorely tempted to add that much of the information came from inside Israel. Some people would do anything to contact relatives still in Russia.
'We know that Israel has approximately one hundred such weapons.' This with a faint smile. But the Soviet was. slightly disappointed when Ran gave no sign of surprise.
'Mr. Ambassador.' Ran's voice was even, controlled. 'What has this to do with current events in my nation? After all, your client states have invaded Israel.'
Servenoff never tired of sloganeering. 'After your own illegal invasion of Jordan, and the cruelties practiced upon the Palestinian peoples displaced from their homeland, the Arabs are united in opposition to Israel's military arrogance. We Soviets have no desire to see war come again to your region, but we will supply our Arab friends with whatever weapons are necessary for their legitimate defense. This is the message I deliver to you.' He held up a stubby finger. 'If you Jews-' He halted from force of diplomatic habit. 'If you use atomic weapons against the Arab states, the Soviet Union will immediately provide nuclear-armed artillery shells which could reach almost anywhere in your country. I tell you in candor that these weapons are in position at this very minute.'
The Russian glared at Ran for a long moment. The Israeli made no comment. Then, without another word, Servenoff turned on his heel and walked briskly toward his waiting men.
That night Avrim Ran flew to Washington for an emergency meeting with Tel Aviv's ambassador to the United States and the chief military attache. Already a motion condemning the Arab invasion of Israel had been defeated in the Security Council by the Soviet veto. However, Ran now held no illusions about the power of diplomacy. He intended to help press the Arnold Administration as hard as possible to intervene in some form.
Ran told his dinner companions about the Soviet decree. They dined in Mordechai Weissman's apartment, free to converse without distraction from other Israeli embassy personnel. But Ran was visibly shaken. 'I think they mean it, Mordechai. This doesn't sound like a bluff.'
The diplomats turned to General Lom Olmert. They asked his opinion.
'I don't see that we have any choice,' Olmert said. 'If we do not employ our nuclear force, we'll go under in a week-two at the absolute most. On the other hand, if we issue a pronouncement, threatening their use, that may provoke the Soviets into carrying out a preemptive strike.'
Ambassador Weissman said, 'Then it's over for us, one way or the other.'
Olmert shook his head and sipped some wine. 'I'm inclined to believe the nuclear option should be played without announcement. It increases the shock value and forces the Arabs into a defensive mindset.'
'What might the Americans do to help?' asked Ran.
'First, I doubt this administration wants to get directly involved. Particularly when Servenoff's threat becomes known. Even then, it's probably too late.' He shrugged. 'We are as we have always been-on our own.'
Avrim Ran leaned forward, hands clasped under his chin. 'I must say, General, that seems a remarkably detached evaluation.'
Lom Olmert looked frankly at the diplomat. 'Mr. Ambassador, if I'm not objective, you should fire me on the spot.' He took another sip of wine. 'There's one aspect we've not addressed. Are the Soviets really going to turn over nuclear weapons to the Arabs? Just consider that prospect from Moscow's viewpoint. Atomic artillery in the hands of Muslim fanatics-heirs to the Ayatollah. There's an American fleet in the Mediterranean. What if the Syrians or anyone else fired at those ships?' He paused for emphasis. 'No, gentlemen. I do not think the Russians will be so stupid.'
Weissman spoke in a near-whisper. 'But Lom, what if you're wrong?'
'Then we're finished anyway. You know, I've fought in three wars and I've seen hundreds of dead men. Not a single one ever complained about being killed by a bomb instead of a bullet.'
Solomon Yatanahu faced his pilots and maintenance and intelligence officers in the briefing room. It was evening, and the past two days had whittled down his Eagle force even further. Everyone looked tired, the ground officers as well as the fliers. Attrition had set in; the Darwinian principle applied to supersonic aircraft and proud- tired young men.
'Boys, you know the situation.' Yatanahu tapped the map.
'These three armored columns are on a converging course. If they merge, we've lost.' One glance showed that the projected axes of the Arab thrusts would meet at Tel Aviv.
The base commander continued. ''The Arabs have changed tactics for this new thrust. They're continuing to move tanks and troops under an umbrella of mobile SAMs, but they're concentrating their fighters better. Coordination between SAMs, anti-aircraft artillery, and fighters means a near-continuous air defense net. We can't get our strike planes at their armor without exposing them to interception.' He bit his lip. 'In honesty, we've lost aerial supremacy. Now we're fighting for local superiority over our own territory. '
Those words rang with a deadened peal; not since 1948 had such a condition existed within Israel's borders. Few of the men in the room had even been born then. They had grown up with certain natural laws. The sun rose in the east. Water ran downhill. Israel owned the sky. Now it was as if the laws of nature had been suspended.
Yatanahu asked the senior intelligence officer for his projection.
Major Eliazar Maimonides shuffled his papers and began. 'We have run these figures with every variation that occurs to us. But the fact is, we have no more than two days to effect a change. The median is one-point-eight days-call it thirty-three hours from midnight. By then, anyone or all of three things can happen.'
Maimonides looked at his notes. 'Either we'll be out of fuel or out of sufficient planes to put up a worthwhile strike. Or the first tanks will reach Tel Aviv.' He glanced up for a moment. 'We're still outshooting them over eight to one in the air, without recent F-20 engagements, and we have enough twenty-millimeter ammunition to last. But missiles and fuel are going fast.'
'Solomon.' It was Major Yehudi Ne'eman, the senior squadron commander. He was thirty-two years old but right now he looked about forty-five. He had shot down six Arab aircraft in the past two days, and landed a crippled F-15 when nobody would have blamed him for ejecting. 'It's obvious we need to break the pattern, try a different approach. We have to get into their second echelon.'
Yatanahu agreed. 'Precisely, but the Arabs also know the importance of their backup formations. They are what sustain the drive. That's no doubt why they allocate their strongest fighters to patrol those areas.' He cleared his throat, not wanting to leave anything unsaid. 'We're at parity with the Saudi F-20s, trading them essentially one for one. But it's no good, we can't afford that kind of exchange rate. We're forced to back off from the deeper strikes and concentrate over the battle front. '
Maimonides interjected. 'Gentlemen, we do have some things on our side. We're definitely superior at night, and what strikes we've flown in darkness have been pretty successful. Also, our decoy measures against the surface missiles are taking effect.'
Though he couldn't explain details to anyone likely to be captured, the major was pleased with the latter ploy. It had been his idea. When Soviet-made SS-20 surface-to-surface rockets began dropping on and near Israeli airfields, the Syrians needed spotting reports to gauge their accuracy. Israeli intelligence, already onto most of the clandestine spotters, scooped them up and sent false corrections and optimistic results. It seemed to be working, but some SS-20s still found their mark. Meanwhile, Arab fighter-bombers were freed to concentrate on the front lines.
Mildly irritated, Ne'eman, the heavy-eyed F-15 skipper, pressed his point. 'All right, that's fine. But what do we do tomorrow morning? We're faced with a vicious circle. We must stop the armored thrusts, but we can't do that without engaging their fighters. Our losses already are near-prohibitive, as you noted.'
The pilot and everyone else knew that the loss of 265 Israeli aircraft had forced the
Yatanahu explained the results of the tactical panel's evaluation. But he also knew that a backup plan was being considered.
