The respite was only temporary. They had perhaps only five minutes, no more, before the Egyptians recovered from their first shock of combat, figured out that their initial barrage had not done its work, and came up with a new plan. When they did, they would carry the fort and the adjoining defensive works. Of this Neboatov had no doubt.
At the command observation post Neboatov lay on his belly behind a wall of sandbags, watching as a second Egyptian tank company maneuvered into position. The first tank company had blundered into the teeth of the antitank kill sack that Neboatov and one of his captains had set up that morning. In short order they had killed three M-60A3 tanks and caused the others to drop back into a covered position. They would have done more damage had the Libyans waited until the entire Egyptian tank company was out of the wadi and in the open. But the Libyans were nervous, inexperienced, untrained, and worse, poorly led.
After being summoned to the command bunker earlier that morning, Neboatov had sat without saying a word for two hours while the leadership of the Revolutionary Guard battalion debated what they should do. Unable to contain himself, Neboatov had pulled Colonel Efrat off to the side. Using a simple diagram, Neboatov showed that his antitank weapons were best deployed in depth and facing to the south and southeast to cover the most likely armor avenue of approach. Efrat, not understanding what Neboatov was talking about, shook his head in agreement. Turning to his assembled staff, Efrat ordered one of his captains to go with Neboatov and see that the guns and antitank missile teams were redeployed. Satisfied that he had disposed of the Russian for the time being, Efrat turned his back to Neboatov and rejoined the debate that was still ongoing.
Realizing that he had been summarily dismissed, Neboatov turned to the Libyan captain and attempted to explain what needed to be done with the antitank weapons, but the man understood neither Russian nor English. Looking around him, Neboatov saw that the second Soviet captain had entered the bunker. Deciding that the only way they would get anything done was to do it themselves, Neboatov called him over and quickly explained what he wanted done, then divided up the task between them. Using gestures and pointing to the diagram, he got the Libyan to lead them to the first antitank positions. Once there, Neboatov and his captain took over. They had labored until dawn, leading, pleading, and prodding the Libyan antitank gun and missile crews. Only the initial artillery barrage had stopped their efforts.
From behind, Neboatov felt a slight tug on his pant leg. Turning, he saw one of his captains looking up at him. "What is it, Dmitri?"
"Sir, Colonel Rakhia wants you to contact him immediately."
"Did he tell you what he wanted?"
"Yes, sir. He wants your assessment of the situation here before he orders us out of here."
Neboatov looked at the Libyan captain next to him for a moment and hoped that he really didn't understand Russian. He turned back to his own captain. "Did you tell him we wouldn't be able to hold for more than a few hours?"
The captain shook his head in the affirmative, then added, "Yes, sir. He knows that. That's why he wants us to leave. But he wants you to talk to him personally. He said that there's nothing more that we can do here. I believe he just wants to confirm that before he gives us permission to go."
Cursing, Neboatov began to shimmy his way back into the main portion of the trench, grumbling as he went. "If he knows we're finished here, why the hell didn't he just tell us to go!" Just as his feet hit the floor of the trench, the Egyptian shelling began anew. The Egyptian gunners had the range now and used that knowledge to great effect. The first volley impacted just to the front of the command observation bunker. Neboatov and his captain flattened themselves on the floor of the trench as a shower of debris and dirt came raining down.
The captain, a veteran of two years in Angola, looked up to Neboatov as they lay there. "Those shits don't waste any time, do they?"
Picking his face up from the floor of the trench, Neboatov looked into his captain's eyes. Though the young captain was trying to make light of their situation, there was fear and apprehension in his eyes. "Dmitri, welcome to your first real war. Be thankful that we are facing, as Colonel Rakhia said, a third-rate power."
This caused Dmitri to laugh. "Yes, Comrade Colonel, I guess there is much I should be thankful for."
A second volley of artillery impacted just to the rear of the command observation bunker, sending more debris into the trench. "Come, Dmitri, enough of this idle chitchat. They have us bracketed. The next volley will be right on the mark. Let us get out of here before we are buried. Our colonel is awaiting our call. Lead on."
The young captain pushed himself up off the floor of the trench, turned in the direction of the command bunker, and began to move along the trench in a low crouch. Neboatov also got up but turned to take one last look at the situation before he followed. The sight that greeted him caused him to hesitate. The Libyan captain whom he had been lying next to was on his back. His elbows were tucked into his sides, his lower arms upright. The hands were clutched and frozen like the talons of a hawk clawing at the sky. Blood ran down the faceless head in tiny rivulets into the sand.
Neboatov shook his head and simply muttered, "Luck, that's all it is — simple luck. You are dead and I am not." The screech of the next volley caused Neboatov to lower his body below the lip of the trench before turning toward the command bunk. He wondered how much luck he had left.
Chapter 10
This is a very vicious animal; when attacked, he defends himself.
Five minutes ahead of the main strike group, the Egyptian aircraft tasked with flak suppression began to climb in preparation for their final run-in and attack. As soon as they did, Libyan ground-based search radars picked them up. The radar warning receivers, or RWRs, on each of the Egyptian aircraft readily identified the search radars. Referring to the data provided by his electronic counter measure, or ECM, pod, the leader of the flight confirmed the radar type and its direction. He gave a curt order and slowly corrected his heading, flying directly to the source of the Libyan radar beam.
The personnel manning the Libyan ground-based radar weren't the only people watching the incoming Egyptian strike. Though the pilots of the French-built Mirage 2000EMs could not see them, the skies were alive with electronic signals. For some time the Egyptians' RWRs had been signaling them that the Russian Ilyushin 76 Mainstay airborne warning and control aircraft, or AWACS, flying to the west had been tracking them. These aircraft, manned and controlled by the Soviets, were still operating over Benghazi, three hundred miles away. The Ilyushin 76 itself posed no immediate threat. But its reports on the size, direction, and location of the Egyptian strike force via a downlink to a Soviet ground station were critical to the air defense network covering the Cyrenaica. The Soviet ground station transmitted the information provided by the 11–76 to its counterparts in the Libyan air defense command. The Egyptians knew of the 11–76 and its role. For now, they only monitored the Soviet AWACS, taking no direct action against any Soviet aircraft. To date the Soviets had not physically intervened in the conflict, and the Egyptians wanted to keep it that way.