In some ways this whole massive effort, aimed at the safe recovery of just three men was an example of just that. It was a message that said different things to different recipients. To the American servicemen, it was reassurance that if they went down, there was nothing, literally nothing, the United States would allow to get in the way of their recovery. It was a message to anybody who thought of fighting Americans, do it and the world of hurt that engulfs you will be beyond your comprehension.
The massive military operation now unfolding had another purpose though, one that was buried deep. It was a desperate attempt to make the other side realize what it was they had started, make them understand the sheer, raw military power they had provoked. It was a desperate attempt to make them back down before they were destroyed. America kept the peace by threatening the nuclear destruction of anybody who broke the peace. It was a hard and a brutal policy and it was one that had won America few friends in the world. But it kept the peace and peace, however hard-won, was more valuable than being popular. The catch was, if the arsenal of nuclear warheads was used again, if another country was wiped off the map, the peace that cost so much to create would be worth far less.
Admiral Mahan looked at the huge displays that dominated his CDC. Shiloh had her F6D Missileers up, for what they were worth. The F6D was pretty much a failure, Douglas had only built a handful of them and it wouldn’t be in service much longer. Grumman were already designing a new heavy fighter for the fleet, the XFI3F-I Tomcat. Its J-58s would give it the double-sonic cruise of the latest Air Force fighters combined with the battery of long-range nuclear-tipped air-to-air missiles from the F6D. When it arrived, if it arrived, it would be deadly. Until it did, fleet air defense really rested with Vought’s F9U Super-Crusaders. They could dash out at almost 2,000 miles per hour to intercept a raid but, unlike Chuck Larry’s super-fast but clumsy F-108s, they were vicious, agile dogfighters as well. Just the tool needed for the operation tonight.
Mahan sighed. For all the super technology that was being displayed tonight, in the final analysis, it would all come down to the Marines holding a beach and the SEALs doing, well, something unspeakable, as usual.
On the Goal-Track, Sinai Coast, south of Gaza.
“Where do you think they are Sergeant, and who are they?” Captain Ivan Jaeger trained his binoculars on the rock field that lay just beyond the burning Safra.
“Where Sir? That’s easy. See those rock scrambles either side of the track? Just there, they’ll be. Sucker bait those rocks are. Look very good for cover but they’re too far forward and too obvious. Who are they? That’s a hard one. That was a 3.5 inch bazooka sure enough and that says Americans. Only the rifles were something different. They weren’t Garands. They could be Italians, their BM-49 is chambered for the same round as our Stg-44s. Or perhaps they’re Egyptian gendarmerie trying to escape. If that’s so sir, I say we let them go. They deserve better than what’s been done to them. Maybe it’s both, Gendarmerie on the beach and Italians come to get them. That makes sense Sir. We know the Italians are helping refugees escape, its driving the raggies mad.”
Jaeger thought then made his decision. “Whoever they are, we know they are hostile. We’ll take them on, we have to. If they are Gendarmerie and Italians, and they give it up, we’ll turn a blind eye to any who escape.” He marked his map with the likely hostile positions then he and his Sergeant slid off the low dune and back to where the unit was waiting.
“Mortars. I want four rounds rapid each, these positions here and here. Take one position each, then drop four smoke rounds in front of the rock line. Infantry, as soon as the smoke is down, get those carriers forward. There’s a wadi about two hundred meters short of the rockline. Stop and debus there. That’s far enough out so the carriers will be out of range of the anti-tank stuff but their machine guns can cover the infantry as they move forward.
“I think there’s a mix of Italian and Egyptian gendarmerie in there, they’re probably using the American rescue effort as cover. Anyway, the Americans are well west of here. Panzers, move off to our left and get into position to provide covering fire . My guess is a few rounds of HE will drive the people in that rockpile back. Just look for the muzzle flashes and take them down. Go to your commands, we bounce off in five minutes soldiers.”
In the Rock-Pile, Sinai Coast, south of Gaza.
“You think that’s it Gunny?” Lieutenant Admire nestled down in the rocks. The flames from the burning armored car were dying down now and the bodies around it had stopped moving. It had been brief, just a split second or two. The bazooka crew had taken down the armored car and the riflemen had killed the crew as they’d bailed out. A beach patrol probably, had done this run a hundred times and forgotten there was a hundred and first. He’d reported the contact, got his acknowledgment and so, that was it.
“Sir, no Sir.” Gunnery Sergeant Tomas was trying to make something out in the darkness. It was just something a little smaller, a little further away than he could see. But there was something out there. “I think there’s more out there. I can feel them.”
“Learning something from your SEAL friends Gunny?”
“Sir, don’t knock it. When you’ve had a couple of men walk up to you in broad daylight and you just don’t see them, something sticks.”
“They that impressive on the exercise Gunny? We hear a lot about them but I’d always thought...”
“No, not that Sir. SLALs and I met up a long, long time ago. Back in Mex......Holy hell.”
The explosions had come suddenly, without warning. Eight of them, big ones that made the rocks shake and the ears rattle. Each one following the one before it so fast they merged into a single continuous rumble.
“Corpsman, Corpsman. For God’s Sake, get a Corpsman over here.”
Admire stuck his head cautiously over the rock as there was another series of explosions. White smoke was billowing in front of the Marine position. Over to his left, what he could see made him sick. He’d thought the positions he’d chosen for his bazooka teams were perfect. Rocks to give good cover, far enough forward to give a good field of fire. Only the mortars had landed straight on top of them. The Marine screaming for a medic was in the far position, those in the nearer one were ominously silent.
Even before the situation had time to register properly, he heard a roar of engines. He had his binoculars, they weren’t as good as the night vision equipment on the vehicles but they’d do. Through the drifting smoke he could see more armored cars, big ones, how many he couldn’t tell. They were dancing around, dipping into the ground and approaching mightily fast. However many there were, there were too many.
“Radioman. Charlie-Two-Zero this is Charlie-Two-Three we are under attack. Artillery and armored vehicles. Need support.”
Ahead of the marine position, the armored vehicles had dipped into a deep gully. Now they could hardly be seen, just a sliver of their tops. The position didn’t hide what they were doing, the Marines could see their infantry debussing. “November-Zero. Armored vehicles are armored personnel carriers. They are unloading about 200 yards in front of us. Estimate at least company strength. Am engaging.”