Returning to the office, they found emergency rescue crews removing bodies. As the only permanent member of the WNN news staff in Cairo, Jan had to identify each of them. Though Jan, like Tim and the sound man, had seen death, the victims had always been strangers, the subjects of stories. The corpses lined up on the sidewalk outside the building were friends and coworkers, real people Jan had known and lived with for two years. The process was made worse by the condition of some of the bodies. Young Johnny, just learning the trade, could only be identified by the few clumps of red hair that had not been burned away. The bodies of two women had nothing that allowed immediate identification. Never had Jan been so touched by the horror that she had so fervently chased around the world. By the time she finished looking at all the remains, she knew that she would never again be able to look at a news story as nothing but a product to be packaged and marketed. She couldn't.
Only the word that survivors had in fact been found kept Jan going that afternoon. They had been evacuated to the Kasr el Aini Hospital on the north end of Roda Island and to the Anglo-American Hospital on Gezira, and Jan and Tim spent the afternoon looking for survivors from the office. Jan found that task was no easier than identifying the dead. Still, the hope that there was someone left was enough to allow them to continue.
Andy, the sound man, was a veteran of the Royal Marines and the '82 Falklands campaign. While Jan and Tim went about their grim task, he worked on getting the story together. Contacting a friend on the staff of another news agency, he arranged for the use of its facilities to process WNN's story and beam it back to the U.S. With the equipment they had at the bridge and some borrowed tapes, Jan's crew agreed to finish the story for the day with a follow-up. The question of whether they would try to continue to report from Cairo or accept evacuation the next day was left open.
Looking up, Jan inhaled deeply. "I'm okay now, Tim. Please, let's try it again."
Tim looked into her eyes and smiled. "We don't have to carry through with this if you're not up to it, love. Red eyes don't show well on the TV, you know."
Jan gave him a weak smile. "Really, I'm ready. Let's do it before I lose my nerve."
Retrieving his camera from Andy, Tim set up the shot. Ready, he gave Jan the signal to start.
Taking in another deep breath, Jan began. "Tonight, the city of Cairo and communities along the Nile continue to recover from the massive air raids launched by Soviet and Libyan forces this afternoon. Though their targets were military — the bridges over the Nile — the bombs they dropped didn't discriminate between soldiers and civilians. Initial reports of the casualties inflicted continue to grow. By one account, well over three hundred civilians were killed and several times that number wounded in the raids that ranged along the Nile from Cairo to the Mediterranean. In our own news offices here in Cairo, six members of the WNN news staff are dead and four other are hospitalized."
For a moment Jan paused. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she continued. "As terrible as this bombing has been, the news from the Western Desert becomes more distressing by the hour. Confirmation that the 1st Egyptian Army has been encircled at Bardia, Libya, came this afternoon. Soviet forces, in a lightning thrust from the Cyrenaica Desert early this morning, seized the Egyptian town of Solium and the critical Halfaya Pass just inside of Egypt. Supported by at least one Cuban division, the Soviet tank corps that spearheaded the attack pinned the Egyptian 1st Army against the Mediterranean, clearing the way for the advance of Libyan forces into Egypt.
"Destruction of the Nile River bridges has effectively halted the flow of forces from the Sinai to the Western Desert for now. This and the movement of Libyan forces through the Halfaya Pass leave little chance that the Egyptian army will be able to muster the forces necessary to launch a counteroffensive in time to save the 1st Army. Of more immediate concern is the defense of Matruh, the provincial capital of the Western Desert. If the Egyptian forces are unable to halt the Libyan advance before Matruh, few natural obstacles will lie in the path of the now victorious Libyans toward Alexandria, less than one hundred and seventy miles away.
"To date, U.S. forces have remained aloof and uncommitted to the growing conflict. Except for their role in the evacuation, Bright Star units and elements of the 6th Fleet have yet to take an active role in the war. Whether they will be able to do so, now that Soviet forces have set foot on Egyptian soil, remains to be seen. Rumors that the president of Egypt has sent a personal letter to the President of the United States appear to be true. The contents of that letter, and the American President's response, when made public, cannot but influence the course of this war. Until that time, American forces remain postured and ready for any eventuality.
"From Cairo, this is Jan Fields for World News Network."
Chapter 16
Air power is a thunderbolt launched from an egg shell invisibly tethered to a base.
In the distance the faint drone of turboprop engines cut through the cold night air. Squatting next to the beacon, Sergeant Jackson cocked his head. "Willy, do you hear that?"
Sergeant E-5 Willy Hall stood up. Like Jackson, he cocked his head and listened. For a second the noise faded. None of the pathfinder team moved. Most were hardly breathing. All were listening, waiting.
When they heard the drone again, it was stronger, steady. "C-130s. At least two of 'em."
Jackson listened for a few more seconds, then concurred with Willy's call. "Okay. That's got to be them. Switch the beacon to continuous mode. Lou, get ready to hit the light. Those airborne paratroopers 'bout to make their big jump might need a little help findin' us."
The C-130s approached the Meidob Hills in line, the pilot of the lead aircraft homing in on the beacon's steady signal. In the rear of his aircraft and the one following, the load masters were lowering the ramp to where it was even with the aircraft's deck. Other drewmen prepared the pallets with the fuel blivets for the drop. In the third C-130 Cerro stood postured in the open door, hands gripping the side of the aircraft as the cold wind whipped his face. His eyes were glued to the red light next to the door. In a second it would turn green, and once again he would be expected to throw his body into the black abyss below. As he waited, every reason he hated jumping raced through his mind.
He looked down at the dark, featureless terrain passing beneath the toes of his boots, now hanging out over the lip of the open door. He didn't know the wind direction or speed. Ground cover and composition were unknown. He, and his ad hoc platoon, would literally be jumping in the dark.
"God, this is dumb! This is fucking dumb!" He knew what would happen. He knew every sensation, every pain he was about to experience. Once he was out the door, the prop blast of the C-130's engines would push him back and catch the deploying parachute. By the time the chute was stretched out, he would be almost horizontal. Then the opening shock came. The stiff nylon risers on either side of his neck would suddenly be jerked taut. If a man didn't have his chin firmly planted into his chest, the risers would cut his neck cleaner than a straight razor. When the canopy was open, there was little time for joy. A quick check of the canopy had to be followed immediately by the unlocking of equipment bags and untying of the rifle bag. Without doing either, it was hell landing. Just as embarrassing was accidentally unhooking the wrong thing. As soon as the jumper felt the equipment bag tug at the end of its rope, there was only enough time to put feet and knees together, bend the knees, and prepare for the landing.