Dixon watched Jan Fields and her TV crew jockey for position to his right. They too had rehearsed. Their movements shadowed those of the VIPs, who, ever mindful of the press, dutifully ignored the TV crew with their best profiles showing. Once the presidents were in place, the briefings began. One camera crew taped the briefings, given in Egyptian and English, and the reaction of the VIPs. To one side of the platform, where there was a view of the action, Jan Fields stood with a second camera crew. That crew would tape the actual demonstration and Jan as she made comments. Hundreds of feet of videotape would be shot and turned over to Fay Dixon. Her task, to be done in a matter of hours, would be to oversee and direct the cutting and splicing of the tape and commentary into a nice, neat, and meaningful twenty-second news blurb that told an important, world-shaking story.
The screech of four jets, two Egyptian Mirage 2000EMs and two American F-16s, followed by the rumble of bombs impacting several thousand meters from the platform, announced the beginning of the demonstration. Even before the last of the reverberations of the explosions had ceased, the beating of approaching helicopter blades could be heard from the southwest. At the same instant, Dixon heard the distant rumble of artillery, followed by the impact of their high explosive shells. Looking at his watch, he turned to Colonel Hafez. "Well, it's show time."
Hafez acknowledged Dixon's comment with only a nod and a faint smile before he turned away and scanned the vehicle parking area. Dixon watched for a moment as Hafez continued to glance from the vehicle parking area to the road leading to it. He seemed to be nervous, jumpy and on edge, almost as if he were looking for something. But for what? Everything seemed to be in place. Hafez's men, located in pairs along the road at a checkpoint leading into the vehicle parking area and at strategic points overlooking the whole area, were up and alert. The four fighter-bombers had come and gone. Dixon monitored the order to lift and shift the artillery fires to the next target given by the fire support officer to the gun batteries. The first wave of helicopters was about to touch down and disgorge their human cargo. The tank company commander who would rush forward and relieve the paratroopers was on the radio, awaiting his cue. All seemed to be in order. The operation was unfolding as planned and rehearsed. Dixon could not understand why the colonel was so tense.
He was about to lean over and ask Hafez what the problem was when he caught a glimpse of movement along the road leading to the parking area. He settled back into his seat and turned to watch the dust cloud that grew on the horizon. For a moment, Dixon couldn't imagine who that could be. He glanced around to the front and watched as several of the security personnel accompanying the presidents also alerted to the approaching vehicles. One of them cocked his head to one side to speak into microphones to report the sighting.
Dixon turned back to watch the approaching vehicles. Picking up a pair of binoculars, he focused the lenses and trained them on the lead vehicle. They were jeeps. Since no U.S. units in country had the old style jeeps, these had to be Egyptian army. Dixon continued to track the jeeps as they came closer and clearer. As they turned toward the platform, a momentary glimpse of a blue light and white markings was enough to identify them as military police. Okay, Dixon thought, the standby escort in case the presidential party has to travel by land. A quick scan of the parking area showed that there were no MP vehicles there. In all the last-minute confusion, no one had double-checked to see if the backups were on station. Well, no harm done.
They were here now. No wonder the colonel was so uptight, Dixon thought. He's probably the only guy that noticed they were missing.
Turning to talk to Hafez, Dixon stopped. Expecting to see a relieved man, Dixon was surprised to see Hafez get out of their vehicle, his face frozen in a dark, solemn mask as he watched the two jeeps continue their approach. It dawned upon Dixon that something was wrong — but what? What the hell is going on? Dixon's attention was diverted by a call on the radio from the American artillery officer, who announced that one of the guns had just had a hang fire and they were unable to clear the gun.
The moment was here. There would be no more delays, no more lies, no hiding. Colonel Hafez had to decide, right now, in the next thirty seconds, if he was a patriot or a — or a what? If he allowed the Libyan commandos to perform their tasks, what would he be? A martyr? A traitor? A rebel? What?
As he watched the jeeps approach the checkpoint at the parking area, he saw one of his men begin to lift the pole barrier to prepare to allow the jeeps to enter. Suddenly Hafez was incensed. The order he had issued to all of his men was that all vehicles and personnel entering the area were to be stopped and checked. Those were his own orders, and now his men were about to violate them. In his moment of crisis, it hit Hafez that the one thing he would not be if he allowed the Libyans in was a soldier — a soldier trained to obey and defend. In a flash he reached into the vehicle, grabbed the hand mike that was being used for administrative command and control, and called the sergeant at the checkpoint. Without waiting for acknowledgment, Hafez ordered him to close the pole barrier and check the identity of all personnel in the two jeeps as he had been ordered to.
Holding the hand mike to his mouth, ready to broadcast his next message, Hafez stood there and watched. He could see the sergeant call out to the soldier at the pole barrier. There was a moment of confusion, then hesitation before the soldier dropped the barrier down and unslung his rifle. The lead jeep, expecting to be waved through, had to break fast, fishtailing as it came to a stop in a cloud of dust just before the barrier.
The squeal of the jeep's brakes caused Dixon to turn his head in the direction of the checkpoint. He glanced at Hafez, who stood with the radio mike to his mouth, staring in the direction of the checkpoint.
Dixon, not knowing what was happening, also turned and watched the checkpoint. The sergeant there approached the lead jeep while the soldier who had been opening the barrier stood to the other side, rifle at port arms. The sergeant could be seen stooping over and sticking his head into the jeep as if to talk to the passenger in the front seat.
The unexpected muzzle flash, the image of the sergeant's body flying backwards, and the belated crack of rifle fire totally bewildered Dixon. "Colonel, what the fuck is going—"
Dixon was cut short by a volley of fire from the second jeep, which cut down the soldier standing at the barrier. The first jeep gunned its engine, then literally jumped forward, crashing through the pole barrier. Without hesitation, Hafez threw down the radio hand mike, drew his pistol, and began to run toward the vehicle parking area, waving and calling to several of his men to follow him.
Dixon grabbed the hand mike on the American control net, called out the code word that an emergency was in progress, and, like Hafez, drew his pistol and began to run in the direction of the two jeeps, now approaching the platform at full tilt.
In the excitement of the moment, Dixon's call over the radio was missed by most of the people on the net. At the artillery battery, all attention was turned to processing the next fire mission, which for a peacetime operation was close. Cerro and his men, in hastily prepared positions, watched as ten Egyptian tanks rolled from around the side of a hill and deployed into line, firing over their heads as they went. Only the Air Force forward air controller caught the call; but, wanting confirmation, he called for Dixon to repeat the message. Dixon, now gone from the radio, failed to respond. Unfamiliar with the habits of Army types, the Air Force major let it drop. Besides, with two F-16s rolling in for an attack in less than sixty seconds, he didn't have the time to mess with the administrative control net.