‘At the moment,’ Hailsham explained to Ricketts, ‘with the cooperation of the American Special Operations Central Command, we’re working hand in glove with the 5th Special Forces Group, the Amphibious Sea Air Land, or SEAL, units, the US Air Force special force and the Psychological Operations and Civil Aid or, to be brief, Psyops and Civaid. Also, since it’s perfectly clear that the outcome of any war with Saddam Hussein will be determined by air power, we’re boning up on the use of lasers for target designation with the Tornado and similar bombers. Front-line reconnaissance, however, is still under the control of the 5th Special Forces Group and US Marine Corps recon specialists. This isn’t raising the spirits of the men to any great heights.’
‘Presumably we need the permission of our imposing US Commander-in-Chief, Norman Schwarzkopf, to take a more active role,’ said Ricketts.
‘Unfortunately, yes – though I have it on the best of authority that General Sir Peter de la Billière, our former SAS commander and now commander of the British forces here in Saudi Arabia, is putting in a good word for us.’
‘I should bloody hope so,’ Ricketts replied.
‘Apart from that we’re just twiddling our thumbs.’
‘There are worse vices, boss.’
Hailsham grinned. ‘Anyway, it’s bound to happen soon and I think we should consider our course of action. My view is that we should revert to the kind of campaign David Stirling ran during World War Two – deep-penetration, hit-and-run raids behind enemy lines, destroying their planes on the ground, attacking their lines of communication, ambushing their patrols and causing general disruption and mayhem.’
‘In armed Land Rovers.’
‘Right. The Pink Panthers. In and out in clouds of dust with all guns firing. Personally, I’d love it.’
‘Then let’s hope we get to do it,’ Ricketts said. ‘Come on, boss, let’s go for chow.’
They were just about to leave the tent when the telephone rang.
‘I’ve called you together,’ Major Hailsham addressed the troopers assembled outside his lean-to on the edge of the city of tents spread across the desert plain, ‘to tell you that plans for the liberation of Kuwait are already well advanced and the operation’s been codenamed “Desert Storm”.’
When the men burst into applause and cheering, it hit Hailsham just how frustrated they had been during the past few days, not knowing exactly why they were here and fed up with the repetitive lessons on survival in the desert or the use of the latest high-tech equipment. While this FOB was busy and noisy all day, with helicopters constantly taking off and landing, aircraft roaring overhead and Challenger tanks and armoured vehicles being put through their paces, the activity was purely of a time-filling nature, albeit masquerading as practice. Meanwhile, the ‘Pink Panther’ Land Rovers and motorcycles were sitting idly outside the tents. What Hailsham’s men wanted, he now realized, was more positive action and a clearly defined reason for being here. Now at last they were getting it.
‘The basic plan,’ Hailsham continued when the men had quietened down, ‘is for battleships of the US Navy to bombard the Iraqi coastal positions and offshore islands of Kuwait while US Marines make an amphibious landing from the Gulf. At the same time, Arab elements of the Coalition forces will head overland, straight for Kuwait. Meanwhile, US Marine Corps will be engaging the Iraqis due north of them. The Syrians and Egyptians will push to the north, make a right-handed swing, and come into Kuwait City from the west – hopefully, if things go as planned – meeting up with the Coalition Arab forces already there. No Western forces will enter the capital until it’s been cleared by Islamic troops.’
‘Very decent of us,’ Geordie said sarcastically.
‘Very sensible of us,’ Ricketts pointed out. ‘It shows that this war is for the Kuwaitis and we’re simply supporting them.’
‘Correct,’ Hailsham said. ‘The city must be liberated by Muslim forces to avoid accusations of exploitation or desecration by Christians. We’ll follow them in.’
‘So what’s the state of play at the moment?’ Sergeant Andrew Winston asked. ‘Are we ready to move?’
‘Not quite. As our heavy tank units haven’t arrived yet, all that stands between Saddam’s five thousand-odd tanks and the oil riches of Saudi Arabia are a few thousand US paratroopers and Marines…’ Jeers and farting noises from the SAS troops interrupted Hailsham, who went on, ‘…around twenty-four US Army AH-64A Apache attack helicopters, a few hundred Coalition aircraft, US special Forces Troops…’ – more derisory remarks and noises from the SAS troopers. – ‘…And, of course, us.’ Loud cheering. ‘However, while thousands more Coalition troops – British, American and French – are being flown and shipped in every day, the Gulf is filling up with aircraft carriers and their F-18 Hornet fighters, F-14 Tomcat attack fighters, A-6E Intruder bombers, and KA-6d tanker jets for mid-air refuelling. By the time the UN deadline for Saddam’s withdrawal is reached, the greatest army in history will have been assembled in Saudi Arabia and will be ready to move.’
‘What’s our new role,’ Danny ‘Baby Face’ Porter asked solemnly, ‘now that all the hostages have been released?’
‘A good question, Corporal. As you’re doubtless aware by now, on 2 December Saddam Hussein test-fired three ballistic missiles – similar to the Soviet-built Scuds – over four hundred miles of Iraqi territory, provocatively aiming them in the direction of Israel. It’s our belief that if the battle for Kuwait begins – which it will if Saddam ignores the Coalition’s demand for withdrawal by the fifteenth of this month – he’ll deliberately fire on Israel in order to lure it into the war.’
‘So?’ Paddy Clarke said. ‘We can do with all the help we can get and the Israelis are sharp.’
‘I agree about the Israelis, but in this particular theatre of operations we simply can’t afford to have them taking part. In fact, their intervention would be an absolute disaster, losing us the Arab members of the Coalition and maybe even turning them against us. Our new task, then, is to help prevent Saddam attacking Israel.’
‘And how do we do that?’ Jock McGregor asked.
‘By locating and destroying the Scud bunkers, trailer-erector launchers, mobile units and support systems hidden deep in Iraqi territory.’
‘Can’t they be located by satellite?’ Andrew Winston asked. ‘I’ve heard that the Yanks have two orbiting spacecraft that can sweep the launch areas with infrared detectors every 12 seconds.’
‘They’re not all that brilliant,’ Sergeant-Major Ricketts pointed out. ‘In fact, they even failed to spot Saddam’s so-called supergun at Jabe Hamryn, north of Baghdad. That barrel was 170 feet long and sticking into the sky like a big dick – yet the satellites missed it!’
‘Ricketts is right,’ Major Hailsham said. ‘Aerial reconnaissance can be flawed. The recent Scud test shot, from a base near Basra, was in the final stages of its flight before a US satellite detected the flare from its rocket motor. The satellites, it seems, can only pick them up when they’re in flight – and that’s often too late. Also, the Iraqis are switching off their Squat Eye guidance radar systems, which further reduces our chances of finding them – so we still need good old-fashioned eyeball recces.’
‘From OPs.’
‘Yes,