wreckage, and the powerful winch on an LAV combat engineer vehicle, landed by one of the LCACs, pulled it clear. Inside the door, the passageway made a right-angle turn, and the darkened corridor was under fire from both ends.
The security team had ordered the control crew, including the foreign contract workers, behind an armored door, and prepared to defend the room against the Marines that they now knew were inside the perimeter of the power plant. They had given up trying to call for outside help long ago, the phone lines having been cut by the Force Reconnaissance teams and the airwaves jammed by a LAV electronic combat vehicle brought ashore by the LCACs. There was little they could do except defend the room to the death, which was exactly what they intended to do.
The drill for the forced-entry team was not subtle. One man would toss smoke grenades around the corner, while a pair of AT-4 gunners, each wearing a respirator and lightweight FLIR goggles, rolled out onto the floor, firing into the next barrier. The team leader used a thermal viewer with a right-angle periscope to determine the results of each shot. This had to be repeated several times before the last guard posts were silenced and the final steel door to the reactor control room was breached with a demolition charge.
The assault force poured through the opening, to take the control room crew into temporary custody. The night-duty crew inside the control room consisted of about a dozen technicians. Some had been deafened by the blast, and a few were cut by splinters, but they had had the sense to stay away from the door when they heard the first muffled explosions. As the Marines cautiously entered the room, they quickly secured the technicians, binding their wrists with plastic handcuffs, and separating the contract workers from the Iranians. The native technicians were trooped outside to a holding area, while the three foreigners were kept in the room.
Among them was Lev Davidovich Telfian, who had wisely donned earplugs and goggles before the engagement began. He had decided as soon as the first warning had sounded to lay low, taking no action that might be construed as favoring either side. While he hoped that the Marines would evacuate him, he feared that they might just as well leave him behind. He was relieved when the young lieutenant commanding the assault team came forward and greeted him personally with a warm handshake.
AH-1W Crash Site South of Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Iran, 0255 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The two Cobra crewmen had taken cover behind a large rock, and were monitoring the status of the TRAP team's progress on their rescue radios. Colonel Newman was better than his word, and the big CH-53E with its security team arrived eighteen minutes after the emergency call. With two fresh Harriers flying top cover, the Super Stallion touched down, and a platoon of Marines fanned out to surround the site. While four Navy corpsmen saw to the injuries of the Cobra crewmen, four more Marines approached the wreck of the AH-1W, secured the classified and crypto components, and set demolition charges to ensure nothing useful to the Iranians was left behind. Five minutes later, mission accomplished, the CH-53E lifted off. The charges detonated, turning the wreck into a blazing fireball of jet fuel and ammunition.
Reactor Control Room, Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Iran, 0310 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The control room was becoming crowded with all the witnesses and the CNN camera crew. Colonel Newman had made it clear that this phase of Chilly Dog would be documented to the smallest detail. For Wendy Kwan, looking somewhat less than glamorous in a desert camouflage Kevlar helmet and battle-dress uniform, it was the most exhilarating and frightening experience of her life. She watched as the Marine technical team leader pressed the red SCRAM buttons for each reactor, setting off a chorus of alarms. Each move was supervised by Hans Ulrich, Professor Kennelly, and a Russian she did not know. After the alarms and warning indicators had been turned off, and the backup generators had automatically kicked in to keep the cooling circulation pumps running, the Marines went to work.
They rapidly dismantled the control rod assembly panel, leaving only cable ends clipped off, their connectors removed for good measure. The racks of control electronics were given the same treatment and wheeled out of the room. Finally, a pair of Marines with sticky-foam guns arrived. They filled the control conduits to the reactors with the quick-setting foam, making it impossible to restore the plant's control circuits without extensive demolition work. When this was done, the room was evacuated, and it was time to go home. Ten minutes later, at the suggestion of Lieutenant Colonel Shaw, the Iranian technicians returned to the control room, taking over the job of monitoring coolant flow to the rapidly faltering reactor.
LFOC, USS
Criminals say that breaking into a bank is hard, but getting away is harder. It was now time for the 22nd MEU (SOC) to get the hell out of Iran. While they had done immense damage, their luck could not hold forever. Already there were seven casualties, and additional delay on the Iranian coast would only cause more. First to go were the LCACs, with their load of equipment from the plant and reprocessing facility, as well as the heavy vehicles and trucks. The partially assembled warheads followed in a pair of CH-53Es, along with the prisoners from the assembly room in MV-22Bs. Charlie Company in their rigid raiders left next, escorted by the three surviving Cobra gunships. A single CH-53E, covered by Major Kidd's two Harriers, moved around the battlefield, retrieving sniper and Force Reconnaissance teams. Captain Hansen and his AAAVs withdrew through the mud flats, to begin their high- speed swim back to Trenton (LPD-14). Last out was Lieutenant Colonel Shaw aboard Lieutenant Colonel Taskins's Osprey. Five minutes later, the only sounds to be heard at the Bushehr nuclear power plant were the hum of the backup generators and circulation pumps and the sputtering explosions of ammunition cooking off in the barracks across the road.
USS
The Air Boss spent a busy twenty minutes getting LCACs and aircraft aboard; the elevators had never been worked so hard in so short a time. First aboard were the Harriers, which were rapidly rearmed, refueled, and launched to provide combat air patrol (CAP) during the critical hours to come. The nuclear material was loaded into shielded containers and sealed for shipment. The prisoners were processed into three groups. The 'special' tags were assigned to key leaders and technicians, who went straight to the ship's brig and a round-the-clock suicide watch. Minor personnel were restricted to a chain-link-fenced area in the hangar bay, until they could be returned to Iran through the Red Cross. Finally, there were evacuees like Lev Davidovich Telfian, who were given a ration of medical bourbon, a hot breakfast, and a stateroom to sleep off their adventures. He shared it with the Pakistani technician who had passed him the CD-ROM, and both slept well for the first time in months. For the Marines, Captain Rainbow had laid on a special meal of steak and eggs, followed by a quick cleaning and stowing of weapons before they hit their bunks. When
USS Constellation (CV-64) Battle Group, Arabian Sea, 0430 Hours, December 28th, 2006
