A pause. "He's firing chaff. One missile has overflown the Egyptian."
Another pause. "The second missile has gone past the Egyptian." The radar operator watched the frantic maneuvers of the Egyptian boat as it tried to avoid the second pair of incoming missiles. Slowly, however, two of the blips, which represented the follow-on missiles, closed in on the boat; then one of them merged with it. "He's hit! One missile impacted." The radar operator paused. The second missile blip closed and merged with the Egyptian boat. "A second impact!" The cluster of blips where the radar plot of the boat and the two missiles had come together fluttered for a moment on the screen, then disappeared.
Sitting upright, the radar operator turned to the combat information officer. "Sir, the boat's been blown up. It's gone."
Rashid stood motionless for a moment as he watched the glow on the horizon disappear. Attempts to raise the third boat by radio failed. It was gone. Turning to his executive officer, he told him to report what had happened to squadron headquarters at Mersa Matruh. He paused, then told the officer that he was preparing to attack the Libyans. All eyes turned to him for a moment. He stared back in turn before he issued the order to bring the boat about on a course that would take them to where the Libyans had been last reported.
When the second boat had turned to conform to the maneuver of Rashid's boat, Rashid looked at his chart, made a few quick calculations, then ordered his helmsman to change course slightly. Turning to the radar operator, he ordered him to stand by to switch on search radar on his orders. He ordered the weapons operator to arm all missiles and be prepared to launch, on his order, two missiles at the lead Libyan boat at ten-second intervals. Over the radio he told the commander of the second boat his intentions. Rashid ordered the commander of that boat to conform to his maneuvers and engage the trail of the Libyan boats.
After both the radar and the weapons operator acknowledged his orders, Rashid turned his back to them and looked out into the darkness. He waited several seconds before he ordered the radar on. All four Libyan boats appeared on the green radar screen in the first sweep of the radar. The weapons operator took the data, checked that the missiles were locked on target, and informed Rashid that he was ready to fire. Without a pause Rashid gave the order.
Outside, on the deck of the missile boat, the darkness was shattered by the ignition of the first missile's rocket motors and its eruption from its canister. A streak of blinding light against the blackness of the night trailed the missile as it arced up for a moment, then dipped down to skim along the surface of the sea just above the waves toward its invisible target. Silence and darkness had just returned when the second missile was fired, followed by the third, then the fourth, at five-second intervals. The other boat, now to the left, was visible briefly as it too fired its missiles. When all missiles were expended, Rashid ordered the two boats to turn back toward the Egyptian coast and head east.
In morbid fascination, the crew of the Hawkeye watched the sea battle as it unfolded on their radar scope. The two surviving Egyptian boats, which had been hugging the coast, turned and ran for the Libyans. The attack against the Egyptian boat had taken the Libyans out to sea, away from the coast, leaving the Egyptians free to come up behind them undetected. Then the radar operator on the Hawkeye announced that the two Egyptian boats had cut on their radars. This brought no immediate reaction, almost as if the Libyans had not detected them. It was nearly a full minute before the Libyan formation began to turn about in an effort to reorient against the new threat. The commander of the Hawkeye, watching the action, dryly commented, "That minute's going to really cost them."
Like a sportscaster at a baseball game, the radar operator described the action to the rest of the crew. "The Egyptians are firing now, one missile from each boat." Five seconds later he announced two more missiles. "The Libyan formation has broken up. They're scattering, but the missiles appeared to be locked on."
After several seconds he began to record the hits. "First missile hit the Libyan farthest south. Second missile hit the Libyan in the east. Another hit on the Libyan in the south." There was a slight pause. "He's gone now. The Libyan in the south is gone. Must have blown up. Missile hit on the Libyan in the west. One missile has gone erratic — it's crashed halfway to its target. Another hit on the Libyan in the east. He's stopped in the water."
The rest of the crew was silent as they listened. Two hundred miles away, men were dying. The green blips, squares, and triangles identified by computer-generated numbers were boats, warships being torn apart by mindless missiles of silicon, wires, aluminum, and composite materials that sought their prey unerringly and struck without feeling, without remorse.
The green blips that represented boats might have been disappearing from the screen of the Hawkeye's radar scope, but for the Libyan sailors who had manned those boats the horror continued. Death by fire, mutilation, and drowning was still going on. The crews of the boats, some wounded, some on fire, were in the water, thrashing about in an effort to save themselves or a shipmate. Screams of pain and cries for help blended with the hiss of raging fires and explosions from unexpended ammunition on the derelict boats. While the boats remained afloat, their fires cast an eerie glow over the scene. When they sank, the survivors were plunged into darkness, a darkness that hid them from each other. In that darkness, where sky and sea merged, the cries of pain from the wounded turned to soft moans, then silence as their lives, like their boats, slipped away into oblivion.
The crew of the Hawkeye saw none of this. Defeat at sea left few traces, few survivors. After ten minutes, only the two Egyptian boats were still showing on the radar screens. The sailors struggling in the sea were too small to be detected by radar. They did not appear on the Hawkeye's scope. It was over, for now.
From the Citadel, the view of Cairo is breathtaking. Jan Fields had hoped to shoot her report from one of the bridges over the Nile in central Cairo, but the police and the military kept interfering with her or blocking the camera crew. Attempts to secure permission or assistance from the Egyptian government through the American embassy to allow shooting at the bridges failed. Frustrated, Jan did the best she could. Besides, by the evening of the eleventh, the bulk of the Egyptian combat forces moving to the Western Desert had already passed through Cairo. Only occasional truck convoys now came through, and these were no substitute for tanks and personnel carriers being hauled on transporters to the front. Her attempts to go into the Western Desert were even more futile. Turned back twice at military checkpoints, Jan had to rely on official news releases made by the Egyptian government and on her own sources. Even at the Citadel, police armed with automatic rifles were still in evidence, watching, intimidating.
Still, Jan had her sources and kept the reports coming. This evening, dressed in a khaki safari jacket topped with a red scarf, Jan faced the camera with Cairo and the setting sun to her back as she began her report.
"Five days after the aborted assassination attempt against the presidents of the United States and the Republic of Egypt, military preparations for retaliation against Libya appear to be reaching the final stages. Long convoys of tanks and armored fighting vehicles that jammed the streets of this city two days ago are now absent. The tapering off of military traffic here and at other crossing points along the Nile indicates that those forces that will be used against Libya are already in place in the Western Desert.