The last comment made the general angry, but he contained himself. Neboatov, he reasoned, had just been through hell and was still not fully recovered from the trauma of combat. Instead, Uvarov offered Neboatov some hot tea, explaining that the reason Neboatov had been asked to come to the front headquarters was so that he could personally report his observations on the performance of the Libyans and shed some light on what had happened. While they waited for the tea, which came with a small stack of biscuits, Uvarov made some small talk in an attempt to put the major at ease and get his mind off the horrors he had just been party to. Slowly Neboatov relaxed and eased himself back into his seat. When Uvarov felt he was ready, they began to go over what had happened and why.
The story Neboatov told was no surprise. Poor staff work at all levels, erroneous reporting or no reporting at all, the inability to fight the subordinate brigades as part of a division battle, the inability to project with any degree of accuracy where the enemy was going and what he was up to, and the panic that paralyzed all levels of command when the Egyptians broke through — all this confirmed Uvarov's belief that the Libyans would be unable to stop the Egyptians. Without intervention by Soviet and Cuban forces — an option Uvarov violently opposed — the war was lost.
Uvarov asked a few questions, then called the duty officer over and instructed him to find a place where Neboatov could clean up and get some sleep. Neboatov, sensing that he was about to be dismissed, stood. When Uvarov thanked him and told him to get some sleep, Neboatov hesitated. Noting that he didn't move, Uvarov looked up and asked if there was something else he wanted to say.
"Comrade General, with the destruction of the last unit I was with, I have no duty assignment. To whom will I report in the morning?"
Uvarov grunted. "Oh, yes — I forgot." He thought about it for a moment, then looked up at Neboatov. "Report to my chief of staff."
Uvarov went back to work on the report, but Neboatov still didn't move. Slightly agitated, Uvarov again looked up. "Now what, Comrade Major?"
"Begging the general's pardon, what duty position should I tell the chief of staff I am filling?"
Again Uvarov grunted. "Oh, yes — quite right. I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you. Inform the chief of staff that you will be my new aide." Finished, he went back to writing, then paused just as Neboatov, dumbfounded, was turning to leave. "And Major Neboatov — when you report to me in the morning at 0630 hours for duty, make sure your driver's brains are off your uniform."
Chapter 12
War is the realm of the unexpected.
Flying at less than one hundred feet, the Blackhawk helicopter skimmed along effortlessly. From the helicopter, the windswept sands below, blowing this way, then that, looked like haze. Jan Fields, who enjoyed helicopter rides under any conditions, was glad that they were not traveling by road that day. Of all the curses of the desert, being pelted with sand for hours on end was the worst. Turning away from the small window, she looked at Johnny sitting with his head between his knees, busily filling his second barf bag. She smiled a wicked little smile. Serves him right, she thought. He wanted to come along for the ride — well, he's having one he won't soon forget.
The helicopter's crew chief tapped Jan on the shoulder. When he had her attention, he pointed out the door. Looking out, she saw the temporary airfield where the 1st of the 11th Heavy Attack Battalion was established. Although she had been there before, this would be the first time since the war had begun. And it would be the last.
The announcement that the President was ordering forces out of Egypt had taken everyone by surprise. Prompted into action by Congressman Ed Lewis's resolution, dubbed the "Home by Christmas" resolution, the leadership of both parties had gone to the President with the recommendation that he make the decision rather than let the resolution go before Congress. In the words of the House majority leader, the resulting fight on the floor of Congress would yield nothing but bad blood between the two parties. Though the President's order had not specified a date for the final withdrawal, everyone assumed it would be done quickly. Seeing the final curtain coming down on the drama, Fay thought it would be a good idea for Jan to go out to the American units. With luck, she would be able to get some good comments and reactions from the soldiers.
Making a wide sweep, the helicopter came in for a landing near the battalion command post. The bump of the wheels on the ground announced to the passengers that they had landed. The crew chief undid his seat belt, slid the door open, and hopped out. Jan followed without being told. As she stepped down and looked around, there was little doubt that the unit was preparing to move. Camouflage nets and the tents under them were already being pulled down. From behind a truck, a young captain came out and jogged over to where Jan and her camera crew were assembling. "Miss Fields, if you and your party would follow me… the battalion commander is with someone right now but is expecting you."
Leading them between the trucks and tents, the captain took them to a GP medium tent. The captain held the flaps of the tent open for Jan and followed her, leaving the camera crew behind to manage for themselves. Serving as the headquarters for the battalion, it was filled with a number of folding tables, large and small, chairs, phones, radios, computers, and maps hung along the walls. Across the tent was a group of officers, seated in front of one of the maps, their backs to her, listening to a briefing. No doubt, Jan thought, the information being put out was unclassified, the "good" information that meant something having already been covered before she was allowed in.
Behind her the cameraman and sound technician came in, lugging boxes and cases. The noise of their stumbling and bumping about caused several of the officers in the back row of the briefing to look, then turn back to listen to the briefer. Jan turned to the cameraman and technician and put her finger to her mouth, indicating that they needed to be quiet. They paused for a moment, looked around, then immediately began to carefully open up the camera and equipment cases as they prepared to check the equipment and set it up. Not seeing Johnny, Jan began to leave the tent to look for him. The captain who had escorted them stopped her, quietly whispering, "He's still outside. Probably something he ate."
With nothing to do until the battalion commander and the camera crew were ready, Jan moved to where she could hear the briefing. Perhaps she could pick something up to use in the report. A major was finishing a briefing on the sequence of their redeployment. From the questions asked and the major's responses, it seemed that the order to redeploy had already been issued. The major had difficulty answering some of the questions. When an officer in the back row asked him a question he could not answer, an officer in the front row, whom Jan suspected was the battalion commander, turned to the man to his right and spoke. "Scott, perhaps you can answer that one."
As Scott Dixon stood and turned to face the assembled officers, Jan felt her heart skip a beat. Like a reflex, her left hand went up and swept through her hair, making sure it was neat and presentable. Scott, caught in the crossed beams of two headlights bolted to a board hung from the ceiling of the tent, began to speak. He explained that because the Navy wanted to be ready for action at all times, the use of carriers as refuel points was out. He had begun to detail some of the restrictions the aircraft would be under while they were flying to Crete when he saw Jan. He paused in mid-sentence when their eyes met. Noting that Dixon was distracted by someone in the rear of the group, the battalion commander turned in his seat to see who it was. When he saw Jan standing there, he smiled. "Miss Fields, sorry for the inconvenience. We're about to wrap this up." Turning back, he nodded to Dixon, indicating that it was all right to continue.