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 131
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.
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 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.
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.
