"Believe I'll try my luck at the gaming tables, old man. Used to be a croupier in my line back some generations." He smiled under his regulation mustache. Then his face turned serious. "I'm for packing it in, too. I've had a good run here, wouldn't have missed it for anything. But I feel it's time for a change."
"Very well." Bennett stood up. "I'll be in touch by phone when you get to Bahrain. Ed, you and Geoff might as well take my bird to Tiger Base. My 001 is due for an annual. That'll leave your two fighters for use here." He raised a cautionary finger. "But don't you dare scratch my pet. She's been good to me and I may want to take her home."
Lawrence waited for the others to leave before talking to Bennett. "Pirate, I'm staying. This isn't over yet, and I'd sort of like to stick around for the finish." He glanced at the floor. "I raised these kids from pups. I couldn't leave them now. Not while there's still some flying to be done." Bennett knew his exec meant, While there's still some fighting to be done. Ed Lawrence had long since passed the point where merely flying-even flying supersonic fighters-satisfied him. The aircraft had become an extension of himself, of his purpose. And his purpose was combat.
That's the difference between us, Bennett thought. I look at a Tigershark and see freedom. Devil looks at the same airplane and sees a weapon.
Bennett patted his friend on the shoulder. "I figured you'd want to stay. Just keep checking six, will you?" Bennett had the unnerving impression he might never see Lawrence again.
"Always have. Don't worry, Pirate. We'll get all the guys together in a year or so for the first Tiger Force reunion. Maybe the king will foot the bill." They made plans to meet on the flight line before Lawrence took off.
Later that afternoon Bennett stood before the situation chart in the briefing room. It was updated twice daily by the Saudi intelligence officers attached to Tiger Force. With professional detachment, Bennett evaluated the developing blitzkrieg against Israel. In the manner of all staff studies, friendly forces were blue, opposition red. The blue arrows thrusting inward from Sinai, from the north, and particularly from the east threatened to slice Israel into pieces.
It was now two days since the combined power of Syria, Iran, Iraq, and Egypt had smashed into Israeli territory behind artillery barrages, air strikes, armored columns, and mustard gas. Though he lacked precise details, Bennett knew that many-perhaps most-of the Israeli airfields were within range of enemy artillery. As the Heyl Ha'Avir consolidated its squadrons on the decreasing number of operational fields, two factors would work against them. Maintenance facilities, ramp space, and accommodations would become overloaded. And the planes bunched on available fields were more vulnerable to shelling or air attack. It was a descending spiral of options which seemed to lead inevitably to defeat.
Bennett pondered the turbulent history of Israel. Since her birth in 1948, the Jewish· State had lived with the ever-present threat of destruction. She had survived against impossible odds because of superior organization and combat skill. Now that the Arabs had matched Israeli resolve, their vastly superior numbers were wearing down Tel Aviv's fighting edge. Not even American support-crucial to Israel's existence-could reverse the situation. And this time there was no U.S. aid. Washington, acting in its own best interest, lacked the willingness or resolve to jump in.
The Tiger Force leader acknowledged his ambivalence toward Israel's peril. They're undoubtedly the ones behind Claudia's death, he thought, and for that they deserve extinction. But he recognized that "they" did not include the nation's entire population, nor the military personnel who would continue to die in this expanded war.
Bennett also felt mixed emotions about his allies. To an extent he felt betrayed by the duplicity of the Muslim states which had reneged on their pledge of reclaiming only Jordan and the West Bank. The opportunists had seen the chance to carry their crusade much farther than announced. True, the Saudis were not participating directly, for the king had remained true to the letter of his declaration. But neither had the House of Saud spoken against the invasion.
Well, what could the Saudis do, anyway? Bennett found himself engaged in a mental debate which neither part of his psyche was winning. The royal family will be lucky to survive on the throne after this is all over, that's for sure.
To hell with it. There are TW clear answers. It's time to go home. Absorbed in his thoughts, Bennett suddenly became aware of Bear Barnes standing next to him. The ex-Marine asked, "Doing more homework, boss?"
''The irony just struck me," Bennett said. "Most of our European allies long ago abdicated the responsibility for their own defense-the most elemental duty of any government. The Israelis have fought their own battles for over two generations and now they're on the ropes. "
Barnes gave a wry smile. ''That's an odd sentiment for the leader of an Arab air force. Besides, you know damn well Israel couldn't stay afloat without U. S. aid and weapons. They barely repay half of what they receive."
"Yeah, I know. But at least they fight. They call a spade a spade. There's seldom any doubt about their position. Hell, some of our so-called friends around the world take billions of dollars in aid and vote against us in the U.N. Or they look the other way when some assassin or terrorist sneaks through their country en route to somewhere else."
Barnes shrugged his big shoulders. "Well, what's the option?"
Bennett looked at the map again. His gaze fell on the port city of Haifa. "Did you ever hear of a contingency plan called Pharaoh?"
"No, don't think so."
"I studied it at War College," Bennett explained. "It was a scenario in which U. S. naval forces attempted to rescue the survivors of an Israeli collapse. The logistics people estimated that maybe a quarter-million Israelis-mainly women and children-could be recovered by sea. I wonder if they've dusted off that study and delivered it to Com Sixth Fleet." He glanced at the two carrier battle groups plotted in the Mediterranean and thought of Dave Edmonds, a rear admiral now. With a start, Bennett realized he had not thought of his friend in months. Maybe Dave was riding one of the carriers out there.
Barnes whistled softly. "I don't see how they could pull it off, John. Not on that scale. It'd be tough enough in peacetime, but under fire? Man, they'd lose more than they saved just getting from the beach to the ships."
"Probably so." He tapped Bear on the chest with the back of his hand. "Let's see Devil and Geoff tuck their wheels in the well."
Forty minutes later Bennett and Barnes stood near the runway and watched 001's engine run up to 80 percent military power. Bennett could tell when Lawrence released the brakes, then heard the afterburner cut in. Instead of pulling up to climb for altitude, the sleek little fighter remained near the runway, retracting its landing gear in level flight. Then, abruptly, the F-20B rolled inverted and passed the two onlookers at 20 feet, wings rocking in farewell. It was a prideful, foolish piece of flying-something only Devil would do. Bennett shaded his eyes from the sun as the nose came up sharply, angling into the sky under negative G.
Watching the Tigershark disappear from sight, Bennett realized he probably never would see his jet airborne again. He might get one last flight in 001 before he headed home.
Bear Barnes wondered why Bennett stood watching for so long.
The two-seater had disappeared from view two minutes before. Finally he tapped the CO's arm. "Come on, Skipper. Let's go to chow. Dinner's ready."