Dixon paused as the news sank in. Horn, looking at Dixon, then at Darruznak and Benton in turn, said nothing. There was a look of surprise on his face, one of embarrassment on Darruznak's at being caught by surprise, and one of disbelief on Benton's. Again, it was Benton who spoke first. "When did they move from their assembly areas? How is it that the G-2 missed it?"
Still fidgeting, Dixon surprised everyone by announcing that that wasn't important.
Angry, Benton shot back, asking him what was important.
Again Dixon took no offense but simply blurted it out. "Sir, the Soviets preceded their attack with massive chemical attacks. Initial reports indicate persistent nerve agents were delivered by SCUD and SS-21 missiles at 0600 hours this morning. North American Air Defense Command confirmed the launch of sixty-plus missiles and rockets in the vicinity of Tobruk through Air Force channels. Full extent of the attacks and their effectiveness are unknown at this time."
There was a stunned silence. Horn considered Dixon's news for a minute, maybe two, before turning to Darruznak. "Billy, I want you to gather up the crisis action team ASAP. I want them to be prepared to discuss the following: one, cancellation of the redeployment; two, evacuation of American civilians from Egypt; three, the need to deploy the force to new assembly areas; and four, protective measures we need to take to protect our force, our evacuating civilians, and our equipment storage sites." Turning to Benton, he said, "Put everyone into MOPP level 2 and back into their assembly areas. Notify the commander of the 16th Armored Division to have the 2nd Brigade, 11th Air Assault prepare to execute the evacuation of dependents."
Darruznak was about to recommend that they should clear those steps with the chief of staff of the Army first, but then decided not to. They were sensible steps, to be expected. Besides, Horn had three stars, and three-star generals got paid to make hard decisions. Instead, Darruznak just nodded, jumped up, and was starting out of the room, followed by Benton, when Horn called, "Hold it!" Pausing, they turned back. "Alex, do we still have that contingency plan for the attack on Al Fasher with the Apaches?"
Benton didn't answer but instead looked at Dixon. Dixon looked back at Benton, realizing that Benton was waiting for him to answer the question. Turning to Horn, Dixon replied that he had saved the plan.
Horn looked at Darruznak while pointing an index finger at Dixon. "Billy, as a separate issue, I want Dixon to pull that plan out and begin putting it together. I want a low-level, low-cost response in hand when I talk to Washington. No doubt the Navy and the Air Force will get the job. But who knows — someone might ask us." Turning to Dixon but still pointing his finger at him, he said, "When they do, I want to be ready. Clear?"
Dixon nodded his head. "Clear, sir."
Standing up, Horn looked down at his desk, closing the folder that contained the order that almost had gotten them out of Egypt before Christmas. Without looking up, he sighed. "Thank you, gentlemen— that's all."
Dixon prepared to follow but was stopped by Horn. "Colonel, have my aide patch me through to the chief of staff of the Army."
Dixon mumbled, "Yes, sir," turned, and began to leave when Horn stopped him again.
"Scott, you have family here, don't you?"
Dixon paused. "Yes, sir. They're here."
From behind his desk Horn walked over to Dixon. "Do me a favor, Scott. Forget about telling my aide about the call — I'll do it. Instead, I want you to gather the members of the staff who are permanent party and have family in Egypt. Tell them what's going on. Go ahead and have them notify their families immediately. You have my permission to pass whatever information you need to in order to convey the gravity of the situation to the wives. Do you understand?"
Dixon thought about that. The general was right. Inevitably, some of the wives would insist that things weren't really so bad and would insist on staying, invoking the "for better or worse" clause. By letting everyone know from the start how bad things were, many arguments would be avoided. "Yes, sir, I understand. Is there anything else?"
Horn hesitated. "Back to the raid on Al Fasher… how much lead time do we need?"
Dixon considered the question before answering. "By 'lead time,' I am assuming you want to know how long it will be from when you give the order before we have the Apaches on target."
"Exactly."
"Thirty-six hours to pull it together, sir. That includes staging at Abu Simbel near Aswan the night before."
Horn thought about it for a moment. "How much time do you need before you can give me a detailed briefing, including a time line?"
"I can be ready to brief you in three hours, maybe less, sir."
"Okay, Scott, thank you. Now go take care of that other matter first and then get cranking on the raid. Let the chief know if the Air Force gives you any static."
Dixon, convinced that he was finally released, saluted, and left Horn's office. Moving along the corridor back to the war room, he had to dodge half a dozen officers and NCOs traveling at high speed without paying attention to where they were going. Turning the comer into the war room brought no relief. Officers from both the day and the night shift were crammed in there, as well as personnel from other staff sections who normally worked elsewhere. In the center of the room, standing there like the eye of a storm, stood General Darruznak, Colonel Benton, and Colonel Linsum, the intelligence officer. They were being briefed in front of the intelligence map by one of Linsum's assistant intelligence officers and Lieutenant Colonel Pfiffer, the staff chemical officer. About them a ring of straphangers and second-echelon staff officers stood, listening in and cluttering the room.
Dixon looked around the room for his senior NCO. Spotting him in the corner, he waved. Sergeant Major London saw Dixon, finished giving one of his sergeants some instructions, and worked his way through the crowd. Dixon smiled when London reached him. "Loc5ks like your plan for keeping nonessential personnel out of the war room has gone to hell, Sergeant Major."
London grunted and made a face. "If you don't mind me saying so, Colonel, we have too many staff officers. Someday, when we have the time, sir, could you explain what they all do for a living?"
Dixon chuckled. "Someday, after I find out myself."
London waited for Dixon to tell him what he needed. Dixon paused, looking around the room, before he spoke. He was collecting his thoughts. When he did speak, his voice was cold. There was no hint of humor, no emotion. "Gather up all the permanent party members with families in Egypt in the conference room immediately."
London waited for further information but got none. "Why, sir?" he finally asked. "And does that mean people on duty?"
"Yes, everyone," Dixon told him, again with a voice that betrayed no emotion, no inflection. "There aren't that many of us with families here. The people that came over as part of Bright Star can cover for us. You see, Sergeant Major, the dependents are going to be evacuated. We need to get that started before we get involved in serious planning."
Understanding the gravity of the situation and the need to tend to the soldiers' needs as quickly as possible, London acknowledged the order and moved to comply. With that taken care of, Dixon worked his way over to his duty station at the long desk that ran down the center of the war room and picked up the phone. With luck he would be able to reach Fay before she went to work.
Try as hard as she could, Fay Dixon couldn't ignore the ringing in her ears. At first, she thought it was just part of her hangover, the first she'd had in two years. It took a moment for it to register that the ringing was the phone. Again she considered ignoring it, hoping that it would stop. It did, but only because her younger son picked it up. It wasn't until he squealed, at the top of his lungs, "IT'S DADDY!" that Fay bounced out of bed, grabbed a robe, and went into the living room.