Barbara Rosen had been in Bonn for her meeting with Chancellor Schmidt when news of the rescue attempt broke. She closed herself in her hotel bathroom and cried. She was terrified about what might now happen to her husband Barry and the rest, appalled at the display of American military ineptitude, and felt personally betrayed by Carter’s decision; did he still have the photos of her and Barry’s daughters she had given him in that first meeting with the families in December? But when she faced a large crowd of reporters later at the American embassy she took Schmidt’s advice and bit her lip. She declined to criticize the president or the military. She met up with the other members of the FLAG European mission in Paris the next day and together they went to Rome for an audience with Pope John Paul II. They had hoped to talk with the pope and solicit his aid in resolving the crisis, but instead they were put in a long line of ceremonial visitors and were ushered before the pope only for a few moments. He told them he would pray and work for the hostages’ release and gave each a set of rosary beads.
The Timms were not allowed to leave Tehran on Friday as scheduled. Barbara spent a long and difficult Saturday wondering if she and her husband would ever be permitted to go. She was further shocked to learn that an angry reception now awaited them at home. Phone calls from Milwaukee revealed that her “apology” had set off a furor in the United States. Threatening phone calls had come to their house and there were police stationed outside it. Timm felt that she was at the center of a colossal worldwide misunderstanding, and whatever she did or said just seemed to make it worse. She kept playing over in her mind the moment Ebtekar had said, “Time’s up,” and her son had been pulled from the room.
Permission to depart came on Sunday, and when their plane lifted into the air Timm collapsed into tears. She felt helpless and angry and guilty and terribly relieved all at the same time. As she cried, a journalist on the same flight took a picture of her. McAfee lost his temper, grabbing the camera and tearing the film out of it.
They stopped in London and ignored the press there, and when they landed in Chicago the next day there was another press mob waiting. It was not friendly.
Most Americans heartily approved of the rescue attempt, and were saddened and disappointed by its failure, but they did not condemn the president. Polls taken in the days afterward showed that while a substantial majority disagreed with the handling of the hostage crisis overall—Ronald Reagan called it “a national disgrace”—a full 66 percent agreed with the president’s decision to launch the mission. His approval ratings for handling the hostage crisis fell, but not precipitously, from 47 percent to 42 percent. Overall, Carter still led Reagan in the polls.
In the final meeting before Carter had given the go-ahead to the mission, Brzezinski had brought up the possibility of failure. He had suggested, in keeping with his aggressive posture, that the military draw up a plan that would, in a way, cushion the blow. If it became apparent that the mission was going to fail, then the United States should attack Iran from the air, destroying key oil facilities. The president could then go on television, Brzezinski said, and announce that his patience with Iran had been exhausted by its blatant disregard for international law and its refusal to negotiate in good faith and, as a result, he had authorized a hostage rescue mission and a variety of retaliatory air strikes.
“Then you could say, ‘I regret to say that the rescue mission has failed, but we have struck and destroyed the Abadan oil refinery,’” Brzezinski offered. “You could then warn Iran that if any harm comes to the American hostages, ‘This is just a foretaste of what is coming.’”
Carter had dismissed the suggestion. “We’ll discuss that later,” he told his national security adviser and had not followed up. Now there was just the cold fact of failure to report, and the president’s stolid, grim face appeared on television screens to deliver the news straight.
Across a wide, disappointed nation, the president took a predictable beating from the pious second- guessers of the nation’s editorial pages.
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There was a mixed response from the families of the hostages. Those who had become outspoken critics of the administration, like Timm and Bonnie Graves, were publicly appalled. “Eight deaths for what?” said Bonnie Graves. “I hope to God the Iranians are capable of restraint.”
“It’s a bumbling error by the president,” said Zane Hall, the father of Joe Hall. “We didn’t approve of it. We don’t know what this could lead to.”
Richard Hermening, Timm’s former husband and Kevin’s father, who just weeks earlier had lamented Carter’s slowness to act and lack of follow-through, now criticized the president’s “timing.”
However, most of the families, who had a ready and waiting press audience for their every utterance, were sympathetic to the president and respectful of the courage and sacrifice of those who had made the effort.
“I understand why he [Carter] had to go to this point in time,” said John W. Limbert, the hostage’s father. “He had to take action.”
A grieving but proud George N. Holmes, father of the Pine Bluff, Arkansas, marine crewman who had perished at Desert One, told reporters, “I think it was fine. It was a risk worth taking. That’s what I thought beforehand. I don’t change it now.”
It was a dejected group of Delta soldiers who reassembled at Wadi Kena after the mission, and none was more depressed than Beckwith, who treated his pain with booze. The colonel realized that the chance of his lifetime had been blown, badly, and he was liberal and unsparing in apportioning blame. He let it be known that he never again wanted to work with the mission’s commanding general, James Vaught, and in one tirade he placed