There was talk of Gaddafi being given refuge in Venezuela, but also of his determination to remain in Libya. The NTC appeared keen to kill or capture him and his sons and inner circle. This made a fight-to-the-last-man scenario more likely. But perhaps if the rebels could gain the advantage in Brega, Zlitan and the Nafusa mountains to the south of Tripoli, all at the same time, then the tipping point might arrive sooner. The rebels could then advance across all three fronts.[9] Gaddafi would not be able to contain them. Defections and desertions would increase. No one would be available to defend Tripoli. Those who could do so would take off their uniforms and leave their posts. Conscripts would run back to their families. Support for Gaddafi out of fear of his internal intelligence apparatus would disappear. Libyans could stand up for themselves in ever greater numbers as they calculated that the security forces of the state would not reach them. This was the scenario NATO needed. On the telly, the usual talking heads peddled their expertise – some spoke of the stalemate continuing for another six months, others said this thing could go big pretty soon. In HMS Ocean we wanted a little bit more, but not too much. We felt we were winning our own small battle but we were also very alert to the dangers we faced, and those weren’t going away. By 3 August we had been at sea for 100 days. So much for a six-week exercise!
Chapter 11
The Rebel in the Mountains
With combat in Brega and Zlitan we had fought on two of the three Libyan front lines. The third appeared too far inland to risk helicopters. Keeping to the coastal options kept the decision men happy: short missions with minimum vulnerable time. But the taking of risk is about the balance of reward, and we were constantly analysing this risk-and-reward calculation. The layering of jets and drones and the timeliness of target fidelity were all part of trimming away that risk, real or otherwise.
The easiest thing to do was not fly at all. This would keep Gaddafi guessing, but without action was ultimately toothless. If we had to fly, the safest way was to remain feet-wet over the sea and launch Hellfire from as far away as possible to remain outside the triple-A and MANPAD range. But this required targets right on the coast, almost on the beach. Beach fighting was not big in Libya, so we had to go inland. This was where we entertained the most risk. But getting tangled up with the best of 32 Brigade and coming out on top had proved we could operate inland and that the cautious approach to risk could be reconsidered.
Intelligence assessments made a long way from us that shaped planning ideas in NATO had begun to point to the third front, the Nafusa mountains. Here the same stalemate existed as everywhere else. When intelligence is presented to the front-line combat operator, he can question it, he can ask where it came from and he can try and analyse it himself. None of this is ever met with anything other than a patient stare from the Intelligence Officer. The work is done. The information has been gathered, considered, analysed and distilled into options. These options are then considered by the decision men, and a plan is made. The plan is then given to the combat operator. We are expected to get on with it; the asking questions part is not in our gift. Our part was in providing a plan that satisfied the risk warriors, then manning up, guns and night sky, and charging again into the barrage. And now intelligence suggested that the third front would break out first. It was closest to Tripoli but it needed a catalyst, and helicopters could help.
The analysis was clear: Colonel El-Moktar Firnana, the rebel commander south-west of Tripoli, wanted more from NATO. He wanted to unlock the third front line as the quickest and most likely route to Tripoli. Intelligence analysts had asserted only the previous month that the rebels in the mountains would remain there. They were tribal, it was their home, they had won it back and they had no interest in advancing on Tripoli. Now that view had changed completely.
Talk of a deep strike into the mountains began in early July, but these were just exploratory discussions. We were used to coastal strikes, and the Brega raid had made the CAOC apprehensive about sending us a long way overland. But the information kept coming in. During a slow off-mission day in a quiet flip-flop, with most crews in rest or flying maintenance sorties, the Commodore’s Intelligence Officer bundled down the chain ladder and pointed at Nick.
He always wore a half quizzical grin, perfect for man in his line of work. ‘How do you fancy unlocking a war?’ A fair ask, given that it had gone on long enough, we were probably running out of luck and a rapid win was what we were in it for.
Nick was quick to reply: ‘But what would we do afterwards? We’d probably just get sent to fight somewhere else, or worse, get sent home. Some of us would have to get proper jobs, meet our families and everything!’
‘Fair one. However, if you were tempted, the commander of the rebel forces down in the Nafusa Mountains appears to have been admiring your work. Word in the mountains is that if that area gets some Apache attention they might break out. His troops will be in Green Square in two weeks.’
‘Wow, that’s quite a bold shout. Which mountains again?’
The intelligence man pointed at our map. ‘About 50 miles south-west of Tripoli… he’s a big hitter, this guy, and the source is good. This might happen. Just have a think in case the CAOC throw it at you as a fastball, you know, fuel, weapons, routes in and out, all that risk mitigation stuff too.’
It was a curious heads-up. Someone had placed an idea in someone else’s head; it turned into half a plan, then made its way to us. This was compelling, completely new. The mountains were a long way inland and the whole land track would be over consolidated pro-Gad territory. No change to any other land mission, but here it was right over Tripoli’s surrounds and certain to be rough all the way. If the rebels thought they were likely to break out from the Nafusa mountains, then Gaddafi might have noticed it too. If Khamis had told his Dad that he’d been well and truly knocked in Zlitan and Brega by helicopters flying low, apparently ignoring his MANPADS and triple-A and smashing his soldiers, then it was likely the regime would guess we would be used on the third front. They would be expecting us.
But nothing came of it. It all went quiet. The chance flashed and then went out altogether. Throughout July we flew coastal missions to Zlitan and west of Tripoli. Several other missions were suggested, planned, briefed and subsequently cancelled when no targets could be verified prior to launch. Our frustration increased. After the blooding of June we were certainly overconfident, and the CAOC were right to clip us when we suggested wilder alternatives, but it was clear we could do more and succeed. Coastal or inland? It was all about risk versus reward, time and need. July wasn’t the time, and we had all but run out of lives in Brega in late June. The need now was for us not to come unstuck – keep the Apache in the campaign for all the reasons it was introduced, but not put it in too much danger. The fanfare was over, the media had gone home, we’d got away with our lives but come close to losing 80 per cent of the squadron’s combat power and aircrew over Brega; brutal war was now our firm reality.
9
Apache missions were launched in all three front lines in Libya (Brega, Zlitan and Nafusa), with our final missions taking place in the Nafusa mountains